Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

eyebrow. 'What led you to make an exception in our case?'
    'We didn't,' said Harald. The drawbridge lowered itself, and the gates swung open of their own accord.
    That's why I assumed the High Warlock must be with you.'
    'Where's the dragon?' asked Rupert suddenly. 'Why didn't he come out to help us against the demons?'
    'Apparently he still hasn't got over his last encounter with the demons. According to Julia, he was hurt much more seriously than any of us realised. He's been hibernating for months, trying to heal himself. It's beginning to look as if he may never wake up again.'
    Rupert looked sharply at Harald. 'Julia. How is she?'
    'Oh, she's in excellent health, I'm happy to say. Actually, you got back just in rime. Julia and I were to have been married weeks ago, but what with one thing and another, there just hasn't been the time. Still, father assures me the ceremony will finally take place tomorrow. It'll do no end of good for Castle morale. I'm so glad you're back, Rupert, it wouldn't have been the same without you there beside me, as
    my best man.'
    Rupert stared at him silently, and Harald stepped back a pace. The tiredness and pain had vanished from Rupert's face and been replaced by a cold, calculating rage. Harald's eyes narrowed, and he dropped his hand to his swordhilt.
    'Do you think,' said Rupert thickly, 'that I fought my way through all the demons in the long night, and braved the High Warlock in his Tower, just so that you could take Julia away from me? I'll see you dead first.'
    Harald fought down an urgent need to step back another pace. He couldn't afford to appear weak. He swallowed dryly, remembering the last time he'd fought his brother in the courtyard. He still carried some of the scars. This time, Rupert was obviously weakened by his wounds and loss of blood, but still Harald hesitated. There was something in Rupert's eyes, something cold and dark and very deadly.
    'Things are different now,' said Harald finally. 'You've been gone a long time, almost seven months, and Julia's had time to think. Time to see things differently. Julia and I ... we've come to know each other very well, in your absence. Very well indeed. She's marrying me of her own free will, Rupert, because she prefers me to you.'
    'Liar!'
    Harald smiled coldly. Talk to Julia, if you wish. She'll tell you the same. You've lost her, Rupert, just as you'll always lose to me.'
    He turned to go. Rupert snatched his sword from his scabbard, and lunged after him. Harald spun round, sword in hand. Their blades met in a flurry of sparks, and then Rupert collapsed on the steps as his legs betrayed him. He tried to get up again, and couldn't. He'd used the last of his strength in the darkness, and now there was nothing left. He lay sprawled and helpless across the marble steps, panting harshly, still somehow hanging on to his sword. He slowly raised his head and there was Harald, standing above him, sword in hand. Harald smiled down at him.
    'Get some rest, dear fellow,' he said calmly. 'You've been through a lot, and I'd hate for you to have to miss my wedding.'
    He sheathed his sword, and turned and walked away, leaving Rupert lying in his own blood. Rupert tried to get his legs under him, but there was no strength left in them. His wounded shoulder was filled with a sickening ache, and the foul stench of the demon gore soaked into his clothes was suddenly overpowering. Rupert lowered his head on to his sword arm, and closed his eyes.
    I'm tired, he thought fretfully. I've done all I can; let somebody else carry the bloody burden for a while. I'm just so damn tired . . .
    He heard someone coming down the steps towards him, but he didn't even have the strength to raise his head and see who it was. The footsteps stopped beside him, and a firm hand took him by his uninjured shoulder and turned him over. Rupert moaned despite himself, and looked up to see the High Warlock scowling down at him.
    'Why the hell didn't you tell me you'd been hurt?'
    'Just a few scratches,' muttered Rupert blearily.
    'Idiot,' snapped the Warlock. He knelt down beside Rupert, and at a gesture from his stubby fingers, Rupert's leather jerkin slowly peeled itself away from the jagged wound in his shoulder. Blood ran freely as the barely formed scabs broke open again, and the Warlock whistled soiftly.
    'Will you look at that ... bit clean through to the bone, and then broke it in half a dozen places. It's a wonder you lasted this long. Now hold still.'
    The