Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

being a little over-cautious, Sire?'
    'No.'
    'Very well, Sire. Which path do we follow through the Darkwood?'
    'According to all the legends there's only ever been one path, and that's miles away. No, sir Champion, we hack our way into the Darkwood, and cut out a path for ourselves as we go. It shouldn't be too difficult, those trees are rotten to the core.'
    The Champion studied him narrowly. 'If there are any demons nearby, they'll be bound to hear us, Sire.'
    Rupert shrugged. 'I've tried stealth, sir Champion. It doesn't work. Our only hope is speed.'
    The Champion nodded impassively, thrust the map back into his pannier, and moved away to give the guards their orders. Rupert turned his attention back to the Darkwood boundary, and then had to look away. The darkness brought back too many memories. He looked instead at his guards, already dismounted from their horses and searching for flint and steel to light their lanterns. The men seemed calm enough, but the horses were nervous. They stamped their hooves and tossed their heads, their snorting breath steaming on the chill air. They seemed fascinated by the darkness, but rolled their eyes wildly if any guard tried to lead them closer to the boundary. Rupert frowned, and called to the guards to wrap cloaks or blankets round the horses' heads, to keep the animals from panicking when they were led into the Darkwood.
    The guards nodded respectfully, and moved quickly to obey. Seeing the Darkwood close up had impressed the hell out of them, and knowing that Rupert had already been through it twice and survived suddenly meant a great deal more to them than it had. Rupert smiled grimly. The guards might see him as some kind of expert, but he knew better. He swung down out of the saddle and strolled casually among them, talking quietly and calmly, and answering what questions he could about the Darkwood. His answers weren't exactly reassuring, but the guards listened carefully to everything he said, laughed politely at his jokes, and without actually saying anything themselves, made it very clear that they appreciated his not lying to them about the dangers ahead. Several of the men clapped him on the back, and told him they'd had worse leaders. Rupert went back to his unicorn with tears stinging his eyes. He'd never been more proud of his men, or felt less worthy to lead them.
    Finally everything was ready, and Rupert leaned against the unicorn's shoulder as he looked his guards over one last time. Lamps and lanterns hung from every saddle, glowing palely in the daylight. Smoke
    drifted on the air from half a dozen torches. Swords gleamed dully in every guardsman's hand. The horses stirred restlessly, disturbed by the Darkwood's stench, but the thick cloth round their heads kept them manageable. Rupert bit his lip thoughtfully, checking for anything he might have forgotten. Provisions wouldn't be a problem this trip, but he'd had the guards fill their canteens from the nearby brook, just in case. Rupert sighed. Everything that needed to be done had been done. Anything else would just be an excuse, to help him put off the moment when he'd have to go back into the darkness again. The darkness that had laid its mark upon him.
    He shook his head angrily, and looked to the Champion, who stood waiting patiently at the Darkwood boundary, his huge double-headed war axe in his hands. The two massive blades flashed brightly as the Champion hefted the axe. He looked at Rupert enquiringly, and grinned when Rupert nodded curtly. The Champion took a firm grip on the axe's oaken shaft and turned to face the darkness. For a moment he hesitated, and then with one swift movement he raised the axe above his head and brought it savagely down on the first Darkwood tree. The steel blade sank deep into the rotting wood, and the stench of corruption was suddenly worse. The Champion jerked the axe free and struck again, shearing clean through the tree. The trunk was hollow, eaten away from within. The Champion worked on, swinging the giant war axe effortlessly, and then he stepped forward into the Darkwood, and the darkness swallowed him. The sound of his axe cutting into rotten wood could still be heard, but only faintly, as though from far away. Rupert gestured to the first half-dozen guards, and they set about widening the new path into the darkness.
    Rupert watched uneasily as their swords rose and fell in a steady rhythm, cutting quickly through the decaying wood. The scars on his face ached