Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

Demon Prince?'
    'Yes.'
    'Then we're in big trouble.'
    'Shut up,' growled Rupert, and moved quickly forward to greet the Warlock.
    'Ah, Rupert,' said the Warlock vaguely, draining his goblet. 'Are your men ready to leave?'
    'Yes, sir Warlock. They're good men, you can rely on them to protect your back once we enter the Darkwood.'
    'I'm sure I could,' said the Warlock. 'But luckily that won't be necessary. We're not going back through the Darkwood. I'm going to transport us straight to the Forest Castle.'
    Rupert's heart sank. His mouth was suddenly very dry. That's your short cut? A teleport spell?'
    'Got it in one, dear boy.'
    Rupert tried hard to hold on to his rising temper. 'Possibly I'm mistaken, sir Warlock, but as I understand it, there are an awful lot of things that can go wrong with teleport spells.'
    'Oh, hundreds of things,' said the Warlock. 'That's why nobody uses them any more. Except in emergencies.'
    'Sir Warlock,' said Rupert slowly, 'I did not lead my men clean across the Forest Kingdom and through the long night itself, just to throw their lives away on a sorcerer's whim! Look at you, the state you're in they'd be safer facing the demons.'
    The Warlock looked at him steadily. 'Prince Rupert, if there was any other way to reach the Castle in time, I'd take it. But there isn't. A teleport's our only chance.'
    'A teleport could get us all killed! Look, if it was just me and my men, I'd risk it, but I can't allow you to put your life at risk. You're the last hope of the Forest Land, sir Warlock. With you gone, there'd be no one left to stand against the darkness.'
    'Don't rely on me,' said the Warlock. 'That's a good way to get killed.' His voice was soft and tired and very bitter. 'I've lived too long with myself to harbour any illusions, Rupert. I'm nowhere near as powerful as I used to be, and I never was as powerful as the legends had it. I could have been, but I threw it all away on wine and women, just like the Champion said. I make no apologies, I had my reasons. Good ones. But don't be under any illusions about my magic. I can't just snap my fingers and make the Demon Prince disappear. What magic I have is at your disposal, along with whatever knowledge and low cunning my tired old mind still retains. If I can get us to the Castle in time, I think I can help. But I'm not indispensable to your fight, Rupert, I'm not that important any more. I never was, really.'
    Rupert shook his head slowly. 'I don't doubt your magic, sir Warlock, it's that goblet in your hand that worries me. Anybody can make a mistake when he's the worse for drink.'
    The Warlock smiled crookedly. 'I'm not much of a sorcerer when I'm drunk, Rupert, but I'm worse when I'm sober. There are too many memories in my old head, too many unhappy memories. It's only the wine that keeps them quiet. The Champion was right, you know, I could have been a Sorcerer Supreme.
    I could have been a hero out of legend. Unfortunately, I just wasn't up to it. Not everybody is. When all is said and done, I'm not the stuff heroes are made of. I'm not particularly brave, or clever. I have a talent for magic, I've studied the Art all my life, but your family always expected so damn much from me! Every
    time some new magical menace appeared, they'd send me off to deal with it. Never mind the risk to my life! Every ogre and demon and natural disaster . . . Eventually, I just got tired. Tired of the responsibility, the pressure, of being scared all the time. That's when I started drinking. It helped, at first. And still your family piled more and more responsibility on me, until finally I broke under the weight of it. Simple as that. And then I fell in love with a Lady who turned out not to care for me, and . . . Well, it's a familiar enough story, I suppose.
    'Look, Rupert, what I'm trying to say is... this is a kind of second chance for me. Don't ask me to stop drinking, because I can't. But if you'll trust me, I'll give you everything I've got. My word on it.'
    Rupert looked steadily at the High Warlock. All the sorcerer's new youthfulness couldn't disguise the tired, defeated set of his shoulders, but still he held his head high, his pride ready to stand or fall by whatever answer Rupert gave. The Prince smiled, and reached out to clap the Warlock lightly on the shoulder.
    'Prepare the teleport spell,' he said gruffly. 'It'd be a long hard struggle, fighting our way back through the Darkwood. I'd rather get my men home safely.'
    'Thank you, Sire,'