Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

sharply at the King. 'I see you're carrying Rockbreaker. Whose idea was that?'
    'Mine,' said the King flatly. The Infernal Devices are our last hope against the dark.'
    The Warlock smiled sardonically. 'I thought that was me.'
    'No,' said the King, looking at the bottle in the High Warlock's hiind. 'Not any more.'
    'Don't use the sword, John,' said the Warlock quietly. 'You can't trust the Infernal Devices; between them they have the power to destroy the world. If you awaken that power, you don't have a hope in hell of controlling it.'
    'We'll use the swords,' said the King. 'We have no choice any more.'
    The Warlock sighed quietly, and looked away. 'You're quite right, you know,' he said finally. 'I shouldn't drink as much as I do. It's affecting my mind, distorting my spells, and I suspect it's slowly killing me.'
    'Then stop,' growled the King.
    'I can't,' said the Warlock simply. 'Do you think I haven't tried? I don't drink because I want to, John, I drink because I need to, because I can't get through the day without it.'
    'Same old excuse,' said the King, and the Warlock looked at him pityingly.
    'You never did understand, John. But then, you never wanted to. You've never needed a drink in your life. You've never needed anything. To hell with it. We can't all be perfect.'
    'You're nothing but a drunkard!'
    'I'm what you made me, John. You and your damned family. Pulling your precious hides out of one damn scrape after another. I wasn't always a drunkard.'
    'Only when it mattered.'
    'I got the job done, drunk or sober!'
    'All except once,' said the King. 'The one time it really mattered.'
    'Don't,' whispered the Warlock. 'Please.'
    'My Eleanor was dying, and you were nowhere to be found. I had to send men out to search the ale-houses and taverns and drag you back. And all the time I waited by her bed, my wife ... my Eleanor .
    . . You could have saved her!'
    'I didn't get back in time.'
    'You were drunk!' '
    'Yes,' said the High Warlock. 'I was drunk.'
    He looked at the bottle in his hand, and after a moment he started to cry.

    Prince Harald stood impatiently before the closed main gates, hiding his growing irritation behind his usual calm mask while a servant fussed around him, adjusting the buckles on his armour. The many layers of overlapping chain-mail were hot, heavy and restricting, but Harald was a great believer in armour. No matter how good you were with sword and buckler, sooner or later you were bound to face someone better or luckier than you, and that's when a good suit of chain-mail came into its own. Harald frowned slightly as he remembered his last fight with Rupert, here in the courtyard. His armour hadn't saved him then. Harald's face slowly cleared as he dismissed the thought. Things were different, now. Now, he had Flarebright. The Infernal Device hung down his back, the long hilt standing up behind his left shoulder. He caught glimpses of the hilt out of the corner of his eye every time he turned his head. Flarebright was eerily light for so large a blade, but Harald could still feel its presence with every move he made. There was a dull, unpleasant warmth the length of his back, as though the sword burned constantly like a hot coal in its scabbard. And sometimes, for no reason at all, Harald thought of how good it would feel to draw the Infernal Device, and cut down enemies without number . . .
    The servant finally finished his work, and Harald waved him away. He drew his usual sword from its scabbard at his side, and began a series of warming-up exercises. The solid weight of steel in his hand was a comfort to him, and he could feel some of the tension going out of his muscles as he moved gracefully through the familiar routine.
    He'd been taking his training a lot more seriously since Rupert beaten him, and he could feel the difference. He'd always been good, but now he was even better. Rupert's grinning face hung before Harald's eyes as he stamped and lunged and circled, his sword sweeping from thrust to parry to slash and back, over and over again. Flarebright's scabbard slapped against his back with every movement, as though reminding him it was still there. Harald whirled and spun, his sword slashing brightly in the torchlight, but still he knew that once he was out in the long night, his own sword wouldn't be enough, for all his skill and training. His only chance against the demons was to use the Infernal Device. Somehow, he wasn't as eager to use it as he'd thought he'd be.
    He