Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

few who didn't look away showed a profound horror and disgust at what the Astrologer had done in his name. King John sighed, and glanced at the black-clad figure standing patiently beside his throne. The dark, saturnine features were calm and relaxed, with only the faintest of smiles playing around his mouth.
    Thomas, old friend, thought the King, what's happening to us? We once swore we'd die rather than use such magics as these. The thought disturbed him, and he shook his head querulously, as though annoyed by a buzzing insect. His gaze fell upon Sir Bedivere, struggling to raise himself on one knee. The King gestured to two nearby men-at-arms.
    'Help the Landsgrave to his feet.'
    'No!' gasped Sir Bedivere. 'I don't need your help!'
    Slowly, painfully, he got his feet under him. He rested there a moment, breathing harshly, and then rose clumsily to stand swaying before the throne. His legs trembled uncontrollably but somehow he still held himself proudly erect. Dried tears showed clearly against the pallor of his face, but his steadfast refusal to be beaten by his own weakness lent him a kind of dignity. And then the red glare filled his eyes, and he threw himself at the King. He just made it to the steps when the Astrologer raised his hand and a bolt of lightning slammed into the Landsgrave, hurling him back from the throne. The blinding flash dazzled everyone for a moment, and when they looked again, Sir Bedivere was lying in a crumpled heap some twenty feet from the dais. Where the lightning had struck him in the chest, the intense heat had melted away his chain-mail and seared through the jerkin beneath. Thin wisps of smoke rose from the scorched leather. Sir Blays knelt beside the fallen warrior and checked his pulse and breathing.
    'He's alive,' he said finally. 'His armour protected him.'
    The King gestured to the two men-at-arms. 'Get the Landsgrave out of here. Have my surgeon attend him.'
    The men-at-arms hurried forward, picked up Sir Bedivere between them, and carried him out of the Court. King John shook his head wearily, leaned back in his throne, and eyed the two remaining Landsgraves dourly.
    Sir Guillam blinked unhappily at the King and smiled tentatively, obviously out of his depth. A faint sheen of perspiration glistened on his brow, and he constantly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, like a small child too shy to askhis way to the Jakes. King John frowned, and studied Sir Guillam more carefully. The man couldn't be entirely useless, or the Barons wouldn't have sent him. The King's frown deepened as he considered the various possibilities. Sir Bedivere had already tried to kill him, so Sir Guillam could be a back-up assassin, versed in spells or poisons or curses. He could be a spy, sent to contact any disloyal elements within the Court. He might even be a highly skilled diplomat, behind the timid facade. King John smiled tightly; there was only one way to find out . . .
    'Sir Guillam.'
    'Aye, Sire?' The Landsgrave started violently, and peered shortsightedly at the King.
    'You are new to my Court.'
    'Aye, Sire. I'm the new Landsgrave for the Birchwood demesne. I speak for the Silver Barons.'
    'And what do they wish of me?'
    Sir Guillam glanced furtively at the sternly brooding Astrologer, and swallowed dryly. He smiled nervously at the King, and ran a finger round the inside of his collar, as though it had suddenly grown too tight.
    'The Silver Barons also . . . require . . . assistance, Sire. They need, uh . . .'
    What little confidence he had left seemed to desert him entirely, and he fumbled quickly for a parchment scroll tucked into his belt. He unrolled it, found he'd got it upside-down, grinned foolishly, turned the scroll the right way up, and read from it aloud.
    'My masters instruct me to inform you that they are in dire need of the following: seven troops of guardsmen from your own Royal Guard; four troops of conscript militia; weapons, mounts and supplies for these troops ...'
    'That's enough,' said the King.
    'There's a great deal more yet,' protested Sir Guillam.
    'Really?' said the King. 'You do surprise me. Answer me a question, my noble Landsgrave.'
    'Of course, Sire.'
    'Why are you here?'
    Sir Guillam blinked confusedly, gestured helplessly, and nearly dropped his scroll. 'I represent the Silver Barons, Sire, I carry their words to you.'
    'No, Sir Guillam, I meant why did they select you as the new Landsgrave? You don't appear to have had much experience in this