Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

into the crowd. Rupert watched him go, while in his mind's eye he saw]again the biggest goblin he'd ever known, hunched inside ill-fitting bronze armour, and growling sarcastically round an evil-looking cigar. A goblin who'd once asked Rupert if he could teach the goblins how to forget, because they'd never learned how, and there was so much they wanted to forget . . .
    Someone called Rupert's name, and he looked quickly round as Julia and the High Warlock came walking out of the crowd towards him.
    'I've got something for you,' said Julia cheerfully, and handed Rupert a length of black silk. He looked at it dubiously.
    'It's very nice, Julia. What is it?'
    'It's an eye patch, silly. Try it on.'
    Rupert opened it out, and after a few false starts, pulled the strap over his head and eased the patch into position. He glanced selfconsciously at Julia. 'Well? How does it look?'
    'You look very rakish,' said Julia, cocking her head on one side the better to admire the effect. 'Just like the pirates in my story books when I was a girl.'
    'Thanks a bunch,' growled Rupert. He glared at the Warlock, daring him to say anything, and the Warlock turned quickly away to study the stables. He gazed sceptically at the rambling, broken-down building, and looked distinctly unimpressed.
    'Are you sure you've got a dragon in there?'
    'He chose the stable,' said Julia. 'And I for one wasn't going to argue the point.'
    'Quite,' said the Warlock. 'How did you persuade him to come here in the first place?'
    'I rescued him from a Princess,' said Rupert, and Julia nodded solemnly. The High Warlock looked at them both, and decided not to ask any more questions. He didn't think he really wanted to know.

    Rupert unlocked the door, and pushed it open. Darkness filled the old timbered building, though bare slivers of light showed through the boarded-up windows. Rupert took a torch from its bracket by the door, and lit it with his flint and steel. The sudden flame pushed back the darkness, and the stable leaped into being before them. The empty stalls were full of shadows, and the low thatched ceiling showed dimly through the gloom. Rupert moved slowly forward into the stable, followed by Julia and the High Warlock.
    Their footsteps echoed dully on the still air, and the torchlight constantly jumped and flickered, though none of them could feel any draught. They found the dragon at the rear of the stables, curled up in a nest of dirty straw. His great folded wings rose and fell in time to the slow, steady burr of his breathing.
    Rupert stared silently at the sleeping dragon, and felt a hot flush of shame run through him. The dragon had been hurt in the Darkwood, because of him. Hurt so badly that the creature was still sleeping off his wounds months later. Hurt, and maybe dying. And now here he was again, hoping to wake the dragon so
    that he could ask him to risk his life in the Darkwood one more time. Rupert felt tired, and guilty, and not a little ashamed, but he was still going to do it. The dragon was the only chance the Forest Land had left.
    The High Warlock whistled quietly as he took in the size of the dragon, and nodded thoughtfully. 'How long has he been sleeping like this?'
    'Two, three months,' said Julia. 'He never really got over the beating he took on our first journey through the Darkwood. Once we got here, he took to sleeping most of the time, until finally we couldn't wake him at all.'
    The Warlock frowned. 'Odd, dragons don't usually take long to heal. Either a wound kills them, or it doesn't.'
    He moved in close beside the dragon, and passed his hand slowly over the creature's head. A pale, scintillating glow formed briefly around the sleeping dragon, and then vanished. The dragon slept on, undisturbed. The High Warlock stepped back, nodding grimly to himself.
    'As I thought, he's been under this spell for months.'
    'A spell? You mean this sleep isn't natural?' burst out Rupert. 'Somebody's deliberately been keeping him like this?'
    'I'm afraid so,' said the High Warlock. 'And whoever cast this spell must still be around somewhere, or it would have collapsed by now.'
    'I can't believe it,' said Julia. 'I just can't believe it. Another damned traitor? There can't be! The only ones with a grudge against King John were Darius and his conspirators, and they're all either dead or in exile. Who else is there that could be a traitor?'
    'No use looking at me,' said the Warlock. 'I'm rather out of touch with Forest politics.'
    'Whoever