Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising Read Free

cheerful, or at least only mildly depressed.
    He was supposed to kill a dragon but truth to tell, nobody had seen one in ages, and they'd pretty much passed into legend. Rupert had become somewhat disenchanted with legends; they seemed to dwell on the honour and the glory and miss out the important parts, like how you killed whatever it was without getting killed yourself. 'Because your heart is pure' isn't a lot of help when you're up against a dragon. I bet mine breathes fire , thought Rupert dismally. He was working hard on a great new rationalisation that would let him turn back almost honourably, when his bladder loudly called itself to his attention.
    Rupert sighed and steered the unicorn over to the side of the trail. That was another thing minstrels never mentioned.
    He quickly dismounted, and set about undoing the complicated series of flaps that protected his groin.
    He only just made it in time, and whistled nonchalantly as he emptied his bladder against a tree trunk. If his diet didn't improve soon, he'd be the only hero going into battle with his flies undone ...
    That thought decided him, and as soon as he'd finished what he was doing, Rupert set about discarding his armour. He'd only worn the damn stuff because he'd been assured it was traditional for anyone setting out on a quest. Stuff tradition , thought Rupert happily, his spirits soaring as piece by piece the battered armour dropped into the trail's mud. After a little thought, he decided to hang on to the steel-studded boots; he might want to kick someone. Clad finally in leather jerkin and trousers and his best cloak, Rupert felt comfortable for the first time in weeks. Admittedly he also felt decidedly vulnerable, but the way his luck had been going recently, he'd only have rusted up solid anyway.
    'I hate grass,' said the unicorn moodily.
    Then why are you eating it?' asked Rupert, buckling on his sword belt.
    'I'm hungry,' said the unicorn, chewing disgustedly. 'And since we ran out of civilised fodder weeks ago
    ...'
    'What's wrong with grass?' Rupert enquired mildly. 'Horses eat it all the time.'
    'I am not a horse!'
    'Never said you were ...'
    'I'm a unicorn, a thoroughbred, and I'm entitled to proper care and attention. Like oats and barley and
    ...'
    'In the Tanglewood?'
    'Hate grass,' muttered the unicorn. 'Makes me feel all bloated.'
    'Try a few thistles,' suggested Rupert.
    The unicorn gave him a hard look. 'Do I even faintly resemble a donkey?' he enquired menacingly.
    Rupert looked away to hide a grin, and discovered a dozen goblins had moved silently out of the shadows to block the trail. Ranging from three to four feet in height, depending on the bandiness of their legs and the length of their long pointed ears, they were armed with rusty short swords and jagged-edged meat cleavers. Their ill-fitting bronze and silver armour had obviously been looted from human travellers, and the pointed teeth flashing from their unpleasant grins suggested what had happened to the armour's previous occupants. Furious at being caught off guard, Rupert drew his sword and glared at them all. The goblins stopped dead in their tracks and glanced unhappily at each other.
    'Don't just stand there,' growled a deep voice from the shadows. 'Get him, lads.'
    The goblins shifted uncertainly from foot to foot.
    'He's got a sword,' pointed out the smallest goblin.
    'A big sword,' clarified another goblin.
    'And look at those scars on his face, and there was all that dried blood on his armour,' whispered a third, respectfully. 'He must have slaughtered hundreds of people ...'
    'Chopped them into chutney,' elaborated the smallest goblin mournfully.
    Rupert swung his sword casually back and forth before him, light flashing the length of the blade. The goblins gave ground furiously, all but trampling one other underfoot.
    'At least get his horse,' suggested the voice from the shadows.
    'Horse?' The unicorn threw up his head, rage blazing from his blood-red eyes. 'Horse?