Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

his blows carefully to avoid harming the unicorn, but still the creature wouldn't die. Mismatched arms and legs sprouted continuously from its hairy body, and were as quickly reabsorbed. Rupert ran the demon through from end to end, and it surged forward along the blade to seize his sword arm with half a dozen bony hands. Its touch burned like acid. Two sickly yellow eyes peered at him over a wide slavering mouth filled with hundreds of sliding, grating teeth. Rupert swore grimly, and struck at the creature with his numb left arm. The fingers of his left hand sank deep into the demon's flesh, just above its eyes, and then slowly started to close. The demon struggled to break free, but Rupert somehow ignored the mounting pain that seared through his arm and shoulder again, and concentrated on forcing his hand deeper and deeper into the demon's flesh. His fingers suddenly came alive, screaming agony with every movement, but past the pain he could feel something soft and yielding pulsing frantically in his hand — the demon's heart. The creature released his sword arm and launched itself at his throat, its slavering mouth stretched impossibly wide. Rupert laughed, and with the last of his strength, threw the demon to the ground. The unicorn trampled it under his hooves again and again, neighing hysterically. The demon finally stopped moving, and the unicorn rushed blindly for the Castle.
    The ice-covered moat lay straight ahead, and within moments the unicorn's hooves were drumming loudly on the ancient sturdy wood of the drawbridge. Rupert shook his aching head to clear it. He hadn't seen the drawbridge being lowered. The Champion had already entered the Keep, and was standing before the closed inner doors, hammering on them with his mailed fist. The doors swung slowly open before him. Rupert entered the Keep, and then reined in his unicorn, and waited impatiently for the doors to open wide enough to admit him. He heard a movement behind him, and looked back over his shoulder. Ten guardsmen were slowly approaching the drawbridge, exhaustion showing in their every movement. What remained of their armour was soaked in blood, but every one of them still carried his sword. The High Warlock floated slowly after them, power surging from him in great shimmering waves that bowed the huge trees like a mighty gale. Demons lay writhing on the ground as his magic moved over them, their bodies melting and running away into the gore-spattered earth. The Champion yelled that the doors were finally open, and the unicorn lurched forward. Rupert brandished his sword defiantly at the darkness, and rode through the gatehouse into the safety of the Castle courtyard. The doors started to close behind him.
    'No!' yelled Rupert, his voice almost inhumanly harsh from pain and fatigue. 'Leave the doors! My men are still out there!'
    'To hell with your men!' screamed back a furious man-at-arms. 'There are demons out there! Close the doors!'
    He broke off suddenly as Rupert reined the unicorn in beside him, and then leaned forward and set the point of his sword at the man-at-arms' throat. Their eyes met, and the man-at-arms' objections died away to nothing. He stared up at the torn and bloodied figure leaning over him and knew, beyond any doubt, that this man was more dangerous than any creature from the Darkwood.
    'Those doors are staying open till all my men are in,' said Rupert. 'Now give the order, or I swear I'll cut you down where you stand.'
    'Hold the doors!' yelled the man-at-arms. 'And stand by to repel demons, we've got men coming in!'
    Rupert lowered his sword and turned away to stare out into the darkness, the man-at-arms already forgotten. His men were finally coming home, and tired and battered and bloodied as he was, a grim pride welled up in him as his ten remaining guardsmen helped each other across the drawbridge and into the courtyard, waving away all offers of help from the Castle men-at-arms. Even after all they'd been through, after all the Darkwood had thrown at them, they were still determined to finish their journey on their own two feet. The High Warlock's light suddenly flickered and went out, and he flew down to stand in the middle of the drawbridge, glaring out into the darkness. The High Magic he'd unleashed no longer beat upon the air, but some trace of its ancient power still remained, lending his short frame a dark and brooding dignity. Demons gathered on the edge of the Castle's pool of light, but made no move