Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

Wing, something so terrible that the echoes still remain. It's in the floor and in the walls and even in the air itself, a sense of something evil, that happened here long ago and is still happening, even after all these years. The Stones remember. You feel it too, don't you, Rupert? Everybody does, after a while. The first people we settled here came running out after only a few hours. The others we tried didn't even last that long. Eventually, we gave up, and left the South Wing to itself. Whatever's in here, hiding in the dark, it doesn't want company.'
    Rupert swallowed with a suddenly dry throat. 'So this Wing's completely empty?'
    'Apart from your disgusting friends,' said Harald.
    'Ah yes,' said the Seneschal. 'I'd forgotten about them. The goblins live here, Sire. They seem quite happy and unaffected. Either they're simply not superstitious, or they're all completely insensitive.'
    Rupert smiled. 'That sounds like them.'
    'Got it in one,' growled a deep bass voice from the shadows. 'Welcome back, Prince Rupert.'
    Rupert's party came to a sudden halt as the goblin leader stepped forward into the dim light, followed by half a hundred other goblins from the surrounding shadows. They all wore some kind of armour, and knives and short swords and axes gleamed in every hand. For a long moment nobody moved, and then, as one, the goblins knelt and bowed to Rupert. Even the goblin leader tucked his head quickly in and back, in what might just have been a bow. Rupert looked around him, a delighted grin spreading slowly across his face. Regular food and better living conditions had put meat on the goblins' bones, and removed some of the gauntness from their faces. More important, most of them now handled their weapons with the quiet competence of the seasoned fighter. Altogether, the goblins looked a great deal more impressive than when Rupert had first met them, back in the Tainglewood. He almost felt that he should be kneeling to them.
    'On your feet,' he said finally, not even trying to hide the warmth in his voice. 'You're warriors, now.'
    'Well, they try,' growled the goblin leader, glaring disgustedly around him as the goblins scrambled awkwardly to their feet. 'It's good to see you again, Sire. They told us you were dead, but we didn't believe them. Not one of us.'
    Thank you,' said Rupert. 'It's good to be back among friends.'
    Harald chuckled mockingly. 'Trust you to make friends out of goblins, Rupert. But then, anyone else wouldn't need to associate with such creatures, would they?'
    The goblin leader made a casual gesture, and the nearest half-dozen goblins took a firm hold of Harald and unceremoniously turned him upside-down. Harald sputtered with outrage and reached for his sword, only to stop short as the smallest goblin stepped forward and pressed a jagged-edged knife against his throat.
    'Just say the word,' said the smallest goblin cheerfully, 'and we'll skin him for you, Prince Rupert. Or just nod, if you like, we're not fussy. Dead informal, that's us. Or maybe you'd like him fricasseed? We can do some very nasty things with a banked fire.'
    'I wouldn't doubt it for a moment,' said Rupert. 'Unfortunately, we need Harald alive, for the time being.
    You can let him loose now, I'm sure he'll mind his manners in the future.'
    'Can't we at least bounce him off the walls a little first?' pleaded the smallest goblin.
    'Maybe later,' said Rupert.
    The goblins dropped Harald in a heap on the floor and moved reluctantly away, muttering disappointedly. Harald sat up and glared aibout him. He made a tentative move towards drawing his sword, but stopped as he realised half a hundred well-armed goblins were glaring back at him. Harald decided to ignore them. He scrambled to his feet, and set about rebuilding his injured dignity.
    King John studied Rupert as the Prince spoke quietly with the goblin leader. At first, the King had been rather amused by the goblins' awe of his son, but he was slowly coming to see that underneath the ridiculous adoration, there was a very real respect and reverence. In all the time they'd been at Court, the goblins had never once bowed to their King. If anyone had ever suggested it, the revolting little creatures would probably have split their sides laughing. But they bowed their heads to Rupert. So did the guards who'd come back with him out of the long night. To hear the stories they'd been telling in their barracks, you'd think Rupert was one of the great heroes of legend. Even the