Free Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising by Simon R. Green Page B

emergency. His frown deepened as he took in the empty battlements, and he mentally reviewed the land they'd passed through since leaving the Darkwood. There couldn't have been a war or a rebellion, or they'd have seen burnt-out farms, and bodies lying in the fields for the gore crows. Plague? Rupert shivered suddenly as he realised he hadn't seen a single living soul since his return, but common sense quickly pointed out that at the very least there'd have been sulphur fires burning, and crosses painted on doors.
    'What's wrong?' asked Julia.
    'I'm not sure.' Rupert peered up at the gatehouse over the Keep. 'Ho, the gate! Let down the drawbridge!'
    While he waited impatiently for an answer, Julia turned her attention back to the Castle.
    'It's not very big, is it?' she said finally.
    Rupert smiled wryly. He had to admit that to the casual eye, Forest Castle wasn't all that impressive. The stonework was cracked and pitted from long exposure to wind and rain, and the tall, crenellated towers had a battered, lopsided look. And yet somehow the familiar crumbling battlements and ivy-wrapped walls still had the power to stir him deeply. The Castle had stood firm against wars and pestilence, against darkness and decay, guarding his ancestors as they guarded the Land. Fourteen generations of the Forest line had been raised within those walls, fourteen generations of service. Rupert sighed quietly. Sometimes the past seemed to lie heavily on his shoulders. But even though he'd spent most of his young life praying for a chance to escape from the Castle, it was still his home and he was glad to be back.
    'The Castle's much more impressive once you get inside,' he assured the Princess.
    'It would have to be,' said Julia.
    'We've four separate wings of a thousand rooms each, twelve banquet halls, three ballrooms, servants'
    quarters, guards' quarters, stables, courtyard . . .'
    Julia stared at the modestly sized Castle before her, no more than three hundred feet wide, and barely a hundred high. 'You've got all that? In there?'
    'Ah,' said Rupert casually. 'The Castle's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.'
    'How did that happen?'
    'Cock-up at the architects,' said Rupert, grinning.
    'A thousand rooms to a wing,' muttered the Princess. 'How do you heat the place?'
    'Mostly we don't,' Rupert admitted. 'I hope you brought some thermal underwear.'
    'How many rooms are there altogether?'
    'We're not actually sure,' said Rupert, beginning to wish he'd never brought the subject up. 'Some rooms are only there on certain days. And nobody's been able to find the South Wing since we lost it thirty-two years ago. It averages five thousand, two hundred and fourteen rooms in the autumn. I think. Still, not to worry; you're perfectly safe, as long as you stick to the main corridors.'
    He was saved from Julia's response by a coarse voice from the gatehouse.
    'Oi! You by the moat! On your way, or me and the lads'll use you for target practice.'
    Rupert glared up at the shadowed embrasures over the portcullis. Once inside, he'd have a few sharp words with the Officer of the Watch. No doubt there'd be a right old panic in the Keep once they recognised his voice.
    'Let down the drawbridge, fellow!' he called grandly, striking a regal pose.
    'Get lost,' came the answer. The unicorn sniggered audibly. Rupert's hand dropped to his swordhilt.
    'Don't you know who I am?' he asked tightly.
    'No,' said the voice. 'Don't care much neither.'
    'I am the Prince Rupert!'
    'No, you're not,' said the voice.
    'Are you sure you've got the right Castle?' Julia asked sweetly.
    'Unfortunately, yes,' said the unicorn. 'Now you know why we're always so glad to be away from it.'
    'I tell you I am the Prince!' howled Rupert, very much aware of how all this must look to the Princess.
    'Leave it out,' said the voice in a bored tone. 'Everyone knows young Rupe got sent off on a quest to kill a dragon. He is missing, presumed dead. Now beat it, you pair of tramps, or we'll