Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

the things people expected of him. He should never have come back.
    He looked out across the courtyard, and nodded to Rupert as the Prince came over to join him. Rupert glanced at the bottle in the Warlock's hand, and his mouth set in a cold line.
    'I know,' said the Warlock. 'You don't approve. But sorcerer or no, I need a little something to lean on.'
    He took a long drink from his bottle, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 'I keep telling you I'm not the all-powerful sorcerer everyone thinks I am. There are no real magicians left any more. Not like there used to be. Magic is going out of the world, Rupert, and all because of us.'
    'Us?' said Rupert.
    'Man,' said the Warlock. 'All because of man. His logical, rational mind will be the death of magic yet.
    Magic works by its own rules, and they don't pay much attention to cause and effect. That's why all the truly great sorcerers have always been eccentrics; they mastered magic because they were as whimsical and contradictory as the sorcery they studied. Magic has its own structure and logic, but it's not a human logic. There are rules that magic obeys, but even those tend to be contracts of agreement rather than natural laws. I'm confusing you, aren't I? Magic's a confusing business. Every year there are fewer and fewer people who can bend their minds enough to control magic. Few and fewer mad enough to understand sorcery while still sane enough not to be destroyed by it.
    'All too soon, magic will be gone from this world, Rupert, driven out by man, with his need for logic and reason and simple, understandable answers. Science will replace magic, and we'll all be a damn sight better off. Science always works. All we'll have lost will be a little poetry, a little beauty . . . and perhaps a little of the wonder of the world. No more dragons. No more unicorns, or goblins, or wee folk.'
    'No more demons,' said Rupert.
    'Win some, lose some,' said the Warlock. He started to lift his bottle to his mouth, but stopped when Rupert looked at him. He shrugged, and put it down again. 'It's ironic, really. The one thing that could ensure the survival of magic is the Blue Moon itself. But that's Wild Magic, and a world ruled by the Wild Magic would have no room in it for man. There's nothing rational or logical about the Wild Magic, no subtlety, no control; just sheer naked power. Power to reshape reality itself. If we lose this battle to the Demon Prince, Rupert, it'll be the end of everything. The Darkwood will be all there is, and nothing will move in it save the demons.
    'Nothing human, anyway. Some life will survive. It always does. There's something unusual living in the moat, under the ice. A fascinating creature.'
    'The moat monster!' said Rupert.
    'If you say so,' said the Warlock. 'He used to be human, you know. I put a change on him, a long time ago.'
    'That's right,' said Rupert. 'If nothing else, that's one thing I'll see put right. Change him back.'
    'I beg your pardon?' said the Warlock.
    'Change him back,' said Rupert flatly. 'He was born a man, and it's only right he should have the chance to die as a man, not . . . some creature.'
    'He doesn't want to be changed back,' said the Warlock firmly. 'He's quite happy as he is. In fact, he was most insistent about it when I talked with him.'
    Rupert looked at him incredulously. 'You're kidding.'
    'I never kid,' said the Warlock frostily. 'It was only a temporary spell, after all. He could have changed back any time after it wore off. If he hasn't, it's because he likes his new form better.'
    Rupert looked at the Warlock, but his face remained serious.
    'I think I'll go and have a word with my unicorn,' said the Prince finally. 'If you'll excuse me . . .'
    The Warlock chuckled quietly as Rupert disappeared back into the milling crowd, shaking his head slowly in a confused kind of way.
    The Warlock took a long drink from his bottle. When he lowered it again, King John was standing before him, his face twisted with open disgust. Torchlight gleamed ruddy on the shining chain-mail that wrapped the King from head to foot, and the Warlock didn't miss the ancient leather-bound swordhilt standing up behind the King's left shoulder.
    'Hello, John,' he said politely. 'You're looking very . . . impressive. I'd offer you a drink, but I've only the one bottle.'
    'Can't you leave that stuff alone even for a moment?' said the King harshly.
    The Warlock shrugged. 'I need a drink.'
    'You always did,' said the King.
    The Warlock looked