Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

stumble over to his bed and sit on it.
    An oil lamp burned steadily on the simple wooden stand that held his wash basin. Metal brackets on the bed's headboard held two unlighted candles. Rupert used the lamp to light both the candles, and then put the lamp back on the stand, taking care not to disturb its flame. He couldn't bear the thought of waking up to find his room in darkness. He slowly unstrapped his sword belt, and placed it on the floor beside his bed, safely at hand, should he need it. And finally, he just sat there on his bed, staring at the bleak stone wall before him.
    The Blue Moon was full. Darkness had taken the Forest for its own, because he hadn't got back in time.
    And Julia . . .
    I could have loved you, Julia.
    Rupert lay back on his bed, bloody clothes and all, and fled into sleep. His dreams were dark and restless.

    Lord Darius scuttled endlessly through the pitch-dark tunnels, muttering to himself as he went. The thin, querulous sound of his voice echoed hollowly back from the thick stone walls to either side of him, and
    seemed to reverberate on the dank, still air long after he was gone. From time to time there was a faint patter of many running feet as the air-vent rats retreated into their holes to let him pass. Darius ignored them. They were too small and too timid to hurt him, as long as he kept moving. A faint gleam of light showed in the darkness ahead, like a single star on a moonless night. Darius stopped running and crouched motionless in the dark, peering warily at the unsteady glow before him. Apart from his own laboured breathing, all was still and silent. After a while, Darius drew his dagger from his sleeve and started cautiously forward.
    Thick streams of dirty golden light fell from a side vent set high in the tunnel wall. A rusty metal grille split the light into a dozen gleaming shafts, choked with swirling dust and soot from the tunnel air. Darius crouched just outside the falling light, and bit his lip nervously. This much light meant he was close to an inhabited area of the Castle, and that meant food and drink and a chance to strike back at his enemies.
    But he had to be careful. Ever since he'd first fled into the network of hidden tunnels and air vents within the thick Castle walls (how long ago? he didn't know any more) he'd been afraid to go back into the Castle itself. Even when hunger and thirst finally drove him to leave his tunnels for a time, he lived in constant terror of being found and trapped by the King's men. He had no doubt the guards would kill him on sight. He'd have given such orders. It was only sensible. And so he left the darkness only when he had to, slipping out of hidden panels and concealed air vents at times when he was sure there was no one around to see. He stole bread and meat and wine, never enough to be missed, and never enough to satisfy the gnawing hunger that burned in his belly all his waking hours.
    Darius stared into the golden light before him, and fought down an impulse to leave his tunnels and take his chances in the Castle, just to be able to move and live in the light again. The constant darkness of the interconnecting tunnels fell remorselessly down on him like water dripping on a rock, gradually wearing it away with an endless lenience. Darius snarled silently, and shook his head stubbornly. He couldn't leave the dark yet. It wasn't time. He'd sworn to stay in the tunnels until his dark master called him forth, and in return he'd been given power over his enemies. Real power. Sorcerous power. He could feel it, burning within him, growing stronger all the time. The Dark One had taken Darius's long-neglected talent and stirred it into awful life. Darius smiled. Soon his power would blaze like a beacon, and then he would leave the dark and gain his revenge. Until then, he waited, for as much as he wanted to walk in the light again, he wanted revenge more. Much more.
    Darius moved forward into the golden light, and stood on tiptoe to stare into the side vent. The light hurt his eyes, and tears ran down his dirty, stubbled cheeks, but he couldn't look away. After a while, his ankles began to hurt. He ignored the pain as long as he could, but finally he was forced to move away from the side vent, and the golden light that comforted him. He stood thinking for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, and then he reached into his sleeve and took out his last precious stub of candle. He used his dagger hilt to strike sparks against the