Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

butchered in the first few minutes, their screams mercifully short. There were just too many demons.
    Light blazed suddenly against the night, a crackling white flame that burned unsupported in the air high above the battle. Jagged bolts of lightning stabbed down into the Darkwood, scattering the demons.
    Dozens of the creatures staggered blindly through the battle, howling silently as they burned like torches.
    Others clutched at their throats and fell choking to the ground as the air suddenly vanished from their lungs. Balefire blazed silver on the night, and the High Magic was everywhere. Demon turned on demon and they tore each other to pieces, the few survivors running amok through the demon horde until they too were brought down. Slowly the demons began to give ground, and the army pressed forward, cheering the High Warlock's name as they eagerly pursued the retreating demons. And then the balefire was suddenly gone, and the High Magic no longer beat upon the air. Darkness returned to the Forest,
    and the only light was that of the Blue Moon.
    Rupert leaned out of his saddle and cut through a leaping demon, and then had to duck sharply as a barbed tentacle lashed at him from an overhanging branch. He started to aim a blow at the tentacle, but the unicorn had already carried him out of reach. The battle had degenerated into an unholy mess. There was no pattern or structure to the demons' attack; they came from every side at once, and for every creature that fell there were a hundred more to take its place. The army and the demons surged back and forth in a bloody confusion of swords and axes and fangs and claws, and the ground grew thick with unmoving bodies. Rupert glared about him, searching for some kind of cover. His guardsmen were gone, separated from him when the army fell apart. He swore harshly, and cut viciously at the demons that milled around the unicorn. With the High Warlock's magic gone, the army had lost what little advantage it had seized, and already some of the smaller groups were falling back as the demons tore into them with renewed ferocity.
    Rupert hewed at a demon that clung tenaciously to his boot even as he hacked it in two, and looked quickly about him. Less than half of the Forest army were still on their feet and fighting, and all but a few were being forced steadily back by the demons. Rupert swallowed sickly as he realised how many of his army were already dead, with the battle barely begun.
    They never had a chance, he thought slowly. I promised them a chance to save the Forest Land, and all I did was lead them to their deaths. Damn it all to hell! There has to be something that'll stop the demons! There has to be.
    He laid about him with his sword, trying to open up a space around him, but no matter where he turned there were always more demons, closing in on the unicorn from every side. Slowly, foot by foot, the demons pushed the army back, the battle now nothing more than a slow, dogged retreat to Forest Castle. Blood streamed across the torn wound, dark and viscous. Some of the demons turned aside to drink it, thrusting their muzzles deep into the dripping mud. The army fell back and the demons went after them, leaping from the shadows, falling down from out of the night, reaching up from cracks in the earth.
    The night grew steadily darker, and the shadows were purulent with distorted life.
    Harald gutted a demon with one well-calculated blow, and then clung tightly to his horse's reins as it trampled the writhing creature under its hooves. His gleaming chain-mail was scarred and broken and soaked in blood, some of it his own. His sword rose and fell readily, and still the demons came at him.
    He met them coldly, calmly, as hard and unyielding as the sword in his hand, but still the demons came.
    He glanced quickly behind him every chance he got, checking and rechecking how much further it was to the edge of the moat. The King hadn't given the order to retreat yet, but the battle was lost, and everyone knew it. Harald felt no guilt, or even regret; no one could have won against such overwhelming odds. The Forest army had been beaten even before it crossed the drawbridge. The moat wasn't far away now, and Harald tried to turn his horse around, but the sheer press of bodies made it impossible. All he could do was back his horse away from the demons, step by step, following the rest of the army back to the moat.
    He felt suddenly trapped and helpless, and panic flared up within