Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

his lungs, but one outflung hand grasped an outcrop of rock and he held on tightly as the sliding scree carried his body out over the long drop. For a moment he hung by one hand, feet searching helplessly for support, loose stones showering down around him, and then his free hand found a hold, and slowly he pulled himself up on to hard, solid rock. Rupert staggered a few feet away from the edge and then collapsed, shaking with reaction, his heart hammering madly. The unyielding stone path beneath him felt marvellously comforting.
    He rested a while, and then clambered painfully to his feet. His whole body ached from fighting the scree, and he'd torn his hands on the jagged rock. Without the water canteens he'd left with the unicorn, Rupert couldn't even clean his wounds, so he did the next best thing and ignored them. He hoped like hell they wouldn't get infected; he was a long way from the nearest healer. He shrugged the thought aside, turned his back on the scree, and trudged tiredly along the uneven path that would lead him eventually to his dragon.
    Some time later the trail suddenly disappeared, replaced by a seemingly endless series of narrow steps cut into the sheer rock face. Rupert turned away from the sight, and looked out over the long drop, taking in the view. Beyond the many miles of tended fields, the Forest seemed very small, and very far away. Rupert sighed once, regretfully, and then turned back to the steps and began the long climb.
    The steps were crooked and uneven, and pain blazed through Rupert's legs and back as for hour after hour he fought to maintain his pace. The stone stairway stretched out behind and before him for as far as he could see, and after a while Rupert learned to keep his head down, and concentrate only on those steps directly ahead of him. The air grew steadily colder as he made his slow way up the mountain, and the driving wind carried sleet and snow from the summit. Rupert huddled inside his thin cloak and struggled on. Vicious gusts tugged at him as he climbed, and the bitter wind blew tears from His eyes.
    The cold numbed his hands and feet, his breath steamed on the chill air, and still he climbed, step after step after step, fighting the cold and the surging wind and his own pain.
    He was Prince Rupert of the Forest Kingdom, and he was going to face his dragon.
    The stairway ended in a narrow ledge before a vast cave mouth. Rupert stood swaying on the ledge, ignoring the freezing wind that wrapped his cloak about him, and the harsh breathing that seared his throat and burned in his chest. The cave gaped before him like some deep wound in the rock face, filled with darkness. Rupert moved slowly forward, fatigue trembling in his legs. The Night Witch's map hadn't lied; he'd finally found his dragon. Ever since leaving the Court, he'd wondered how he'd feel when he finally had to face the dragon. If he'd be ... scared. But now the time had come, and he didn't feel much of anything, if truth be told. He'd given his word, and he was here. He didn't believe he could beat the dragon, but then he never had. Deep down, the'd always known he was going to his death. Rupert shrugged. The Court expected him to die; maybe he'd live anyway, just to spite them. He drew his sword, and took up the best position he could on the narrow ledge. He tried not to think about the long drop behind him, and concentrated instead on the correct form of the challenge.
    All in all, he'd never felt less heroic in his life.
    'Hideous monster, I, Prince Rupert of the Forest Kingdom, do hereby challenge ye! Come forth and fight!'
    There was a long pause, and then finally a deep voice from far inside the cave said 'Pardon?'
    Feeling slightly ridiculous, the Prince took a better grip on his sword and repeated his challenge. There was an even longer pause, and then Rupert dropped into his fighting stance as the dragon emerged slowly out of the darkness, filling the cave mouth with his massive bulk. Long sweeping wings wrapped the creature like a ribbed emerald cloak, clasped at the chest by wickedly clawed hands. A good thirty feet from snout to tail, light slithered caressingly along his shimmering green scales as the dragon towered over the Prince, studying him with glowing golden eyes. Rupert shifted his sword, and the dragon smiled widely, revealing dozens of very sharp teeth.
    'Hi,' said the dragon. 'Nice day, isn't it?'
    Rupert blinked resentfully. 'You're not supposed to say anything,' he told the