Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

Champion's report had been full of praise for Rupert's valour and skill in battle. Even the Champion . . . King John scowled, and tugged at his beard. He was going to have to think about this. Rupert was finally showing signs of becoming a warrior and a hero, and that . . . was dangerous.
    'I've got to go now,' said Rupert to the goblin leader. 'We're rather pushed for time. You do know we're going out against the demons in a few hours from now?'
    'Of course,' said the goblin leader gruffly. 'Some of us will be there with you. We still remember what the demons did to our homes, our families. They came at night, and there was no moon in the sky. They killed our children first, and then our women, and only those of us who turned and ran survived to tell the story. We knew nothing then of fighting or hate or revenge. We have learned much in a short time. They say humans know how to forget, Prince Rupert. Perhaps one day, you will teach us this. There are so many things we need to forget, but we don't know how. For us, the blood and death lies forever before our eyes, and our ears still hear the screams.
    'All we've learned so far is how to kill demons. For the moment, that's enough. If we can't have peace of mind, we'll settle for revenge. Perhaps we can learn to be brave, too, now we've no choice.'
    Rupert put out his hand, and the goblin leader clasped it firmly with his own gnarly hand.
    'We'll make you proud of us yet, Prince Rupert.'
    'I already am,' said Rupert. 'I already am.'
    The goblin leader nodded quickly, and then turned and stalked back into the shadows, and was gone.
    Within seconds, the rest of the goblins had also disappeared from the corridor, sliding back into the darkness as silently as they had arrived. Rupert found his eyes were a little too moist and blinked rapidly
    until the feeling went away, and nnly then did he turn back to face the rest of his party. The King looked at him strangely, but said nothing. Harald was doing his best in pretend that nothing had happened, while still trying to get the wrinkles out of his clothes. The Seneschal was leaning against the far wall, staring at the ceiling, and tapping his foot impatiently.
    'Can we get on now?' he asked coldly, apparently of the ceiling. All this conversation may be very interesting, but it's not getting us any closer to the Armoury.'
    'A moment, sir Seneschal,' said the King. 'You have found us a route that avoids the missing Tower?'
    'Amateurs,' said the Seneschal. 'I'm dealing with amateurs. Of course I've found us a way round it!
    That's my job, remember? That's 'why I was dragged out of a nice warm bed to lead you through this damn warren. Now follow me, if you please, and stay close; I've got more than enough to worry about, without having to waste valuable time searching for strays.'
    'Of course, sir Seneschal,' said the King soothingly.
    The Seneschal growled something under his breath and hobbled down the corridor, and after a moment the others followed him. Rupert once again brought up the rear, scowling thoughtfully as he considered the Seneschal's words. What the hell was this missing Tower, and why was it so important they avoid it?
    Come to that, how had the demons the Seneschal mentioned got into the South Wing in the first place?
    Rupert shook his head grimly. There were a lot of things he wasn't being told, as usual. Obviously a great deal had happened during Julia's rediscovery of the South Wing, but then, knowing Julia, it was only to be expected that anything she was involved in would be far from easy or straightforward. Rupert smiled slightly at the thought, and then deliberately thought of something else. Thinking about Julia still hurt too much.
    Lights grew few and far between as the party moved deeper into the South Wing. Corridors gave way to galleries, which gave way to halls, rotundas and apparently endless stairways, until finally they came to the Armoury. The Seneschal unlocked the great double doors and then stepped back for the King to lead the way in, but for a long moment nobody moved. Rupert stared at the Armoury doors, and felt his flesh creep with something that was neither fear nor awe, but some strange mixing of the two. For almost fourteen generations, the Armoury had been the weapon house of the Forest Kings. Somewhere beyond those doors lay all the mighty blades of history and legend, of heroes and villains and defeated enemies of the Realm. And somewhere, in the darkness beyond the doors, lay the