Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

web. The more he looked at it, the less it seemed like a spider's web. The pattern was wrong. The strands hung together in knotted clumps, falling in drifting streamers from the higher branches, and dropping from the lower in thick clusters that burrowed into the trail's mud. And then Rupert felt the hair on the back of his neck slowly rise as he realised that although the web trembled constantly, there was no wind blowing.
    'Rupert,' said the unicorn softly.
    'We're being watched, right?'
    'Right.'
    Rupert scowled and hefted his sword. Something had been following them ever since they'd entered the Tanglewood at daybreak, something that hid in shadows and dared not enter the light. Rupert shifted his weight carefully, getting the feel of the trail beneath him. If it came to a fight, the thick mud was going to be a problem. He took off his helmet, and put it down at the side of the trail; the narrow eyeholes limited his field of vision too much. He glanced casually round as he straightened up, and then froze as he saw a slender, misshapen silhouette moving among the trees. Tall as a man, it didn't move like a man, and light glistened on fang and claw before the creature disappeared back into the concealing shadows. Rain beat on Rupert's head and ran unheeded down his face as a cold horror built slowly within him.
    Beyond the Tanglewood lay darkness. For as long as anyone could remember, there had always been a part of the Forest where it was forever night. No sun shone, and whatever lived there never knew the light of day. Map-makers called it the Darkwood, and warned Here Be Demons . For countless centuries, Forest Land and Darkwood had been separated by the Tanglewood: a deadly confusion of swamp and briar and sudden death from which few escaped alive. Silent predators stalked the weed-and-vine-choked trails, and lay in wait for the unwary. And yet, over the past few months, strange creatures had stalked the Forest Land, uneasy shapes that dared not face the light of day. Sometimes, when the sun was safely down, a lone cottager might hear scratchings at his securely bolted doors and shutters, and in the morning would find deep gouges in the wood, and mutilated animals in his barn.
    The Tanglewood was no longer a barrier. . .
    Here Be Demons.
    Rupert fought down his fear, and took a firmer grip on his sword. The solid weight of the steel comforted him, and he swept the shining blade back and forth before him. He glared up at the dark clouds hiding the sun; one decent burst of sunshine would have sent the creature scuttling for its lair, but as usual he was out of luck.
    It's only a demon,he thought furiously. I'm in full armour, and I know how to use a sword. The demon hasn't a chance.
    'Unicorn,' he said quietly, peering into the shadows where he'd last seen the demon. 'You'd better find a tree to hide behind. And stay clear of the fight; I don't want you getting hurt.'
    'I'm way ahead of you,' said a muffled voice. Rupert glanced round to find the unicom hiding behind a thick-boled tree some distance away.
    'Thanks a lot,' said Rupert. 'What if I need your help?'
    'Then you're in bother,' said the unicom firmly, 'because I'm not moving. I know a demon when I smell one. They eat unicorns, you know.'
    'Demons eat anything,' said Rupert.
    'Precisely,' said the unicorn, and ducked back out of sight behind his tree.
    Not for the first time, the Prince vowed to find the man who'd sold him the unicorn, and personally do something unpleasant to every one of the swindler's extremities.
    There was a faint scuffling to his left, and Rupert had just started to turn when the demon slammed into him from behind. His heavy armour overbalanced him, and he fell forward into the clinging mud. The impact knocked the breath from him, and his sword flew from his outstretched hand. He caught a brief glimpse of something dark and misshapen towering over him, and then a heavy weight landed on his back. A clawed hand on the back of his neck forced his face down, and the mud came up to fill his eyes.
    Rupert flailed his arms desperately and tried to get his feet under him, but his steel-studded boots just slid helplessly in the thick mire. His lungs ached as he fought for air, and the watery mud spilled into his gaping mouth.
    Panic welled up in him as he bucked and heaved to no avail. His head swam madly, and there was a great roaring in his ears as the last of his breath ran out. One of his arms became wedged beneath his breastplate, and