Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

to approach the Warlock. He turned his back on them, and stalked through the Keep and into the courtyard. The demons surged forward.
    Men-at-arms howled orders to the gatehouse, and the two huge double doors swung slowly together.
    Rupert just had time to glimpse the drawbridge rising into the air, already overrun with clinging demons, and then the great oaken doors slammed shut, and men rushed forward to slide the heavy steel bolts into position. Rupert finally sheathed his sword, and slumped exhausted in the saddle. Thousands of demons pounded frustratedly on the outer walls of the Castle, the deafening sound rising and falling like a never-ending roll of thunder. And far away, deep in the rotten heart of the darkness, something awful and inhuman howled its cheated rage.

    Rupert swung down unsteadily from his saddle, managed a few uncertain steps, and then sat down suddenly with his back to the inner wall. Even through twenty feet of solid stone, he could still feel a faint vibration from the demons hammering on the outer wall. He cradled his left arm in his lap, and for the first time in too many months, allowed himself to relax. His head was swimming madly, he was starting to shake with delayed shock and reaction, and only the jagged pain in his left shoulder kept him from passing out on the spot, hut he didn't give a damn. He was back in the Forest Castle, and that was all that mattered. For good or bad, whatever the consequences, he'd come home.
    Bit by bit the demons stopped their assault on the Castle wall, and die great roar of sound slowly died away to an unbroken silence that was somehow even more ominous. Rupert closed his eyes and just let himself drift for a moment. He'd done everything he'd been asked to do, and now he was entitled to a rest. Just for a while. A quiet, tired whickering close at hand jerked his eyes open again, and he looked up to see the unicorn standing beside him, his great bony head hanging wearily down, his hooded crimson eyes staring at nothing. Rupert smiled fondly at the animal.
    'Good run, unicorn,' he said hoarsely.
    The unicorn snorted, and fixed him with a sardonic eye. 'You'll never see better, that's for sure. I've never run that fast in my life. It's amazing what you can do when you have to. How are you feeling?'
    'Awful, bordering on lousy. I think I'd kill for a drink of water. Assuming I could find the energy.'
    'Never mind the malingering, where's that barley you promised me.'
    Rupert managed a kind of laugh, and for the first time found the strength to raise his head and look about him. The courtyard was packed with people from wall to wall, farm folk, villagers and townspeople who must have fled to the Castle for protection when the demons overran their homes. Refugees from the long night, they huddled together in small family groups, their few remaining possessions scattered around them in pathetic little heaps. Open fires burned fitfully throughout the courtyard, fighting off the dark winter with a little heat and light. But still the courtyard remained bitter cold, and dark shadows gathered between the fires. There were a few ragged tents and lean-tos, providing an illusion of privacy, but little actual shelter. Animals wandered freely from fire to fire, grubbing quietly for what scraps of food they could find. With so many people and animals packed together the smell was appalling, but nobody seemed to notice. They were too used to it.
    The worst part was the silence. People huddled together for warmth and comfort, but said nothing. They just stared lethargically into their fires, with eyes that had seen too much horror and too little hope, and waited for the darkness to come and take them. Rupert smiled sourly. Even the Castle walls, and the magic they contained, weren't enough to keep out all of the Darkwood's influence. Fear and uncertainty and despair hung upon the air like a thick choking fog, reflected clearly in the helpless terror that showed in every refugee's face. Darkness had entered their souls, and laid its mark upon them. Rupert looked away. After all his travels, and despite everything he'd faced and accomplished, he'd still failed in his mission. He'd got back too late. The Blue Moon had risen, and the Forest had fallen to the endless night.
    And out of the fifty men who'd followed him on his quest to the Dark Tower, only ten had returned.
    I tried, thought Rupert dejectedly. At least I tried.
    He fought off a wave of self-pity that would have