Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

'We can talk about the wine later, sir Warlock, right now I need your help.'
    The Warlock smiled crookedly. 'Do you know who I am, young man?'
    'You're the High Warlock,' said Rupert. 'The last hope of the Forest Land.'
    The Warlock looked at Rupert sharply, all the vagueness gone from his eyes. 'Don't you people ever learn? I don't give a damn about the Forest Land. Your whole stinking little Kingdom can rot in hell for all I care! Now get out of here! Get out of my home and leave me in peace, damn you.'
    'That's no way to speak to your Prince,' said a cold voice from behind Rupert. He looked quickly round, and was relieved to find the massive figure of the Champion filling the open window. The Warlock glared at the Champion, and then all the strength seemed to run out of him. He lifted his wine glass to his lips, but it was empty. His mouth worked, and he threw the glass away.
    'Why can't you leave me alone?' he whispered. 'Just go away and leave me alone.'
    'If it was up to me,' said the Champion, climbing carefully down from the window sill, 'I'd leave you to hide in your hole until hell froze over. Unfortunately, the King needs you.'
    'I'm not going back,' said the High Warlock flatly. 'And there's not a damn thing you can say that will change my mind. There's nothing to call me back to the Forest. Nothing at all.' He stopped suddenly, and for the first time looked closely at Rupert. 'The Champion said you were a Prince. Are you really one of John's boys?'
    'I'm Rupert. The younger son.'
    'Of course, Rupert. I thought you looked familiar.' The Warlock's face softened. 'You look a lot like your mother.'
    'I have twenty-five men outside,' said Rupert. 'Will you give them shelter from the night?'
    'They're safe enough out there,' said the Warlock. 'No demons can pass my wards. Your men can camp outside tonight, and leave in the morning. Of course, you're welcome to stay here, Rupert. It's been a long time since I last saw you.'
    'Twenty-one years,' said the Champion. 'Twenty-one years since you turned traitor.'
    'I'm not a traitor! I was never a traitor!' Bright crimson spots burned on the Warlock's cheeks as he stepped forward to glare up at the Champion, his hands clenched into fists. 'I left because I chose to! For more than forty-five years I watched over the Forest Kings, keeping the Land from harm. I was John's protector when you were still learning which end of a sword to hold! Why I finally decided to leave is my business, not yours. I gave forty-five years of my life to the Forest Land, you've no right to ask any more
    of me.'
    Take a good look, Sire,' said the Champion, calmly, to Rupert. 'There was a time, long ago, when this drunken old fool was a hero. The most powerful magician the Forest Land had ever known. His deeds are legendary. There are dozens of songs about him, you probably know some of them. There were even those who said he had the makings of a Sorcerer Supreme. But somewhere along the line, he decided to throw it all away. He turned his back on his duty, and frittered away his magic on fireworks, illusions and pretty baubles for the ladies. He could have inspired a generation, but he preferred to spend his time getting drunk and chasing the tavern whores. The High Warlock of legend — a coward and a renegade who betrayed his King when his King most needed him.'
    'It wasn't like that!' screamed the Warlock. 'You bastard, it wasn't like that at all!'
    The Champion laughed. The Warlock howled wordlessly with rage, and a pure white flame roared from his outstretched hand, smashing into the Champion's chest and throwing him back on to the crowded table-top under the window. Glass tubing shattered as the Champion crashed into it and lay still. Blood ran from his nose and mouth. The nearby animals screamed shrilly, and ran to and fro in their cages. The Champion stirred, and reached for his sword. The Warlock gestured again, and crackling white flames sprang from his fingertips to press the Champion back against the tower wall. Rupert drew his sword and started forward. The Warlock blasted him off his feet without even looking round. Rupert tried to get up, and couldn't. All he could do was watch helplessly as the Warlock's balefire slowly lifted the Champion from the table and pinned him to the wall a good twenty feet above the floor.
    'I never liked you,' said the Warlock. 'You and your precious duty. You don't know the meaning of the word! What did duty ever mean to you, except as an excuse