Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

the Monk ever turned against him. The Monk was acknowledged by all as the most powerful sorcerer in Castle Midnight.
    There were also those who whispered that the Monk wasn't Real.
    Lewis decided, not for the first time, that he wasn't going to think about that. He turned his back on the
    Monk, and walked away to stand under his oak tree. He found its shade soothing. He looked aimlessly round his apartment, but there was nothing he could see that needed his attention. Everything was as it should be. The apartment had started out as just another stone-walled chamber deep in the Castle, but over the years Lewis had adapted it to suit his needs and whims. The earth magic he'd inherited by his Blood gave him power over everything that lived or grew in the earth. It wasn't a very useful attribute inside the Castle, but Lewis liked to exercise his magic, so he brought the outdoors inside. The floor of his apartment was covered with a layer of earth, from which grew a thick carpet of neatly trimmed grass. Its rich scent perfumed the air. A huge oak tree filled one comer of the room, its branches pressed flat against the high ceiling. It had no real roots, but Lewis's magic kept it alive. From time to time Lewis would grow flowers or vegetables in his apartment, just to prove that he could, but of late he hadn't been in the mood. Since his father's death, he'd had more important things on his mind. Killing Dominic and Viktor wasn't going to be easy.
    Lewis leaned back against the wide trunk of his oak tree, and glared at the still figure of the Monk. He hated to be kept waiting. No one but the Monk would have dared to make him wait. Lewis pushed himself away from his tree, and walked over to look at himself in the full-length mirror on his wardrobe door. His scowl slowly gave way to a satisfied smile. Every now and again, Lewis liked to check that he was still looking good. Not that he ever doubted it, but still he found the confirma-tion soothing. He nodded approvingly at his reflection, who nodded, politely, back. Lewis was a tall, imposing man in his late twenties, with a harsh bony face and thinning brown hair. His chest and shoulders were well muscled, and his waistline hadn't varied by so much as an inch in almost twelve years. His superbly tailored clothes were cut in the latest fashion, but dyed in the only colours he ever wore: earth brown and forest green.
    Even his cloak was a pleasant russet brown. He carried a sword at his hip, and though the scabbard was ornately decorated with gold and silver curlicues, the sword within was standard military issue. Lewis was a master swordsman, and ready to prove it to anyone at the drop of an insult. People talking to Lewis tended to be very careful about how they chose their words.
    The Monk's cowled head rose suddenly, and Lewis felt a familiar chill run through him as he saw that the open cowl held nothing but an unfathomable darkness. The Monk's robe might hold a human shape, but if there was a body inside the robe, no one had ever seen it. Lewis kept his face calm as he strode over to rejoin the Monk, and held his head a little
    higher. He was a Prince of Redhart, soon to be its King, and he stood in awe of no man.
    'Well?' he said coldly. 'Have you located them?'
    'Yes, your highness,' said the Monk. 'They're out on the moors, by Barrowmeer. Count Roderik's spells of concealment misled me for a while, but I have them now.'
    The Monk's voice was distant and echoing, as though it came not from just inside his cowl, but rather from some unimaginable distance further in. The words were clear, if quiet, and the tone was polite enough, even courteous, but there was no animation in the voice, no emotion, or humanity.
    Lewis nodded curtly. 'All right, you've found Roderik's party, but is Viktor with them?'
    'See for yourself, your highness.' The Monk's sleeves parted, revealing no hands at the grey cuffs, and only darkness within. The right sleeve gestured gracefully, and the air before Prince Lewis shimmered and then cleared to show a vision of Barrowmeer. Lewis fought to keep his expression calm and unim-pressed. It was like looking through a window that wasn't there, save that the scene was utterly silent. Lewis watched closely as the four men on horseback reined in their horses and looked out across
    the open moor. His gaze settled on one familiar face, and he nodded grimly.
    'Viktor. I knew he wasn't in the Castle any more.'
    The Monk gestured lightly, and Prince Viktor's