Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels) (37 page)

“Right,” said Fisher, peering blearily past swollen-shut eyes. “We got sloppy, Hawk. Too used to relying on our reputations to keep the wolves at bay.”

“There’s no telling who your attackers were,” said Sir Vivian, since it was clear they weren’t going to shut up and sit quietly. “They ran like rabbits the moment they saw us coming. All we got were glimpses of some black hoods. And since they had the sense to take their weapons with them, the only evidence we have is some bootprints in the blood on the floor. These guys were professionals. You’ve made a lot of enemies in your short time here, but my best guess would be Duke Alric’s men. Punishment beatings are a way of life where they come from. And you did humiliate the Duke of Court, in front of everyone.”

“And you can’t touch him … because he’s the Duke,” said Hawk.

Sir Vivian scowled. “If I can put together enough evidence, I will find the men responsible and make them pay. Diplomatic immunity only goes so far. No one does this on my watch and gets away with it.”

“You sound angry, Sir Vivian,” said Fisher. “I thought you didn’t approve of us.”

“I don’t. But while you’re here, you’re under my protection, just like anyone else. I take my responsibilities seriously. And this kind of cowardly ambush is beneath contempt. I will not stand for this. Ah, here comes the healer at last. Where the hell have you been, LeMark?”

“I got here as fast as I could,” said a calm, unhurried voice. Hawk turned his head painfully slowly to see an elderly, white-haired man bearing down on him, carrying a bulging black bag and the air of competence that all the best healers have. In fact, Hawk always suspected that learning to fake that air was one of the first things all healers were taught. LeMark looked at Hawk and Fisher, and then knelt before Hawk, studying him carefully without touching him. “Damn, you look bad. I’ve seen men trampled by horses that were in better shape than you are right now.” He felt for the pulse in Hawk’s wrist, and looked closely into his eye. “Where does it hurt, son?”

“Where doesn’t it?” asked Hawk. “Hit me with everything you’ve got, sir healer; I need to be up and about. I’ve got work to do.”

“Lot of my patients say that,” said LeMark, unmoved. “But quick fixes are nearly always a bad idea in the long run. I’m a healer, not a sorcerer. My magic won’t actually mend you, just assist your body in repairing itself by speeding up the natural healing process. From looking at you, I can see a dozen broken bones and a probable concussion. The blood dripping off your chin tells me all I need to know about your internal injuries. In my professional opinion you need at least a couple of weeks in bed, recovering naturally.”

“We don’t have a couple of weeks,” said Fisher harshly. “Do whatever you have to. We can take it.”

“Any spell strong enough to put you two back on your feet will drain your life forces to dangerous levels,” LeMark said sternly. “It could put you closer to death than your present injuries would. And, incidentally, it will hurt like hell. I really do recommend—”

“Do it,” said Hawk.

LeMark looked at Sir Vivian. “Can’t you make them see sense?”

“Probably not,” said Sir Vivian. “Do your work, healer.”

LeMark shook his head unhappily, and rummaged in his bag before bringing out a slender wand of what looked like pure ivory, with two green snakes coiled around it. LeMark nodded to Sir Vivian, who gestured for half a dozen guards to come forward and hold Hawk and Fisher firmly in place. The healer then bent over Hawk and Fisher, muttering under his breath. Hawk just had time to study the two snakes curled around the wand, and admire how realistic the carving looked, when LeMark stopped muttering and thrust the wand forward. The snakes’ heads leaped out from the wand, and sank their fangs into Hawk’s and Fisher’s cheeks. They both cried out as harsh, unrelenting energies surged into their bodies, pumped through the serpents’ fangs. Their whole bodies jumped and shook as the energies did necessary, painful things to them, while the guards did their best to hold them still.

Broken bones reset themselves with agonizing precision, splintered ends fitting together as torn muscles reformed around them. Bruised and damaged organs grew whole again, and Hawk’s left lung reinflated itself. Blood raced through Hawk’s and Fisher’s veins as their hearts hammered painfully fast in their chests. The healing process hurt more than the beating they’d just taken, compressed into a few unbearable moments. And then it was over. The snakes released their grips, the green heads drew back onto the wand, and the guards let go and stood back. Hawk and Fisher were left gasping and shaking, their hands jumping and twitching uncontrollably in their laps. Their faces were slick with cold sweat instead of blood, and they could see so clearly, it was almost painful. Hawk swallowed hard and tried to slow his breathing. He felt he’d just run several marathons, back to back, all of them uphill. A bone-deep weariness pinned both of them where they were, but deep inside they felt whole and intact again, as though they’d been washed through with ice cold spring waters. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other and grinned shakily. Their faces were back to normal again, no more pulped mouths and puffed eyes, and the dripping sweat was already washing away the blood. They forced themselves to their feet, leaning on each other for support. Sir Vivian knew better than to offer help. He sniffed heavily and glared at LeMark.

“They still look like shit. A good breeze would probably blow them over.”

“Well, yes,” said LeMark, closing his black bag. “They’ve both used up a month’s resources in a few moments. Their strength will return, but only slowly.” He looked chidingly at Hawk and Fisher. “I’d tell you to take it easy, but we all know I’d just be wasting my breath, so what’s the point? I will say this: Push yourselves too hard too soon, and you could die, just from simple exhaustion. You don’t have any reserves to rely on anymore.”

“Understood,” said Hawk. “Thanks for your help, sir healer. Send your bill to the Regent. Technically we’re her guests, so we might as well get something out of it.”

“Knew I was wasting my breath,” said LeMark. He turned and strode off down the corridor with an air of washing his hands of the whole affair.

“How do you feel?” Sir Vivian asked.

“Like a good sneeze would throw me off my feet,” Hawk admitted, feeling his ribs gingerly. “But I can still do my job.”

“Same here,” said Fisher. “Whoever sent those thugs is going to have to get away with it for the time being. Revenge can wait. After all, delayed revenge is always the sweetest.”

“We need to talk privately, Sir Vivian,” said Hawk. “Is there somewhere secure we can go?”

“Of course,” said Sir Vivian. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you to do the sane thing, and rest a little first?”

“If we sit down, we’ll never get up again,” said Fisher. “Long as we keep moving, we’ll be fine.”

“As you wish,” said Sir Vivian. “I have a place not far from here. My guards will ensure our privacy.”

Hawk and Fisher followed Sir Vivian down a side corridor, walking slowly and steadily and no longer leaning on each other. Hawk found he had to place his feet very carefully because his head felt a long way away from the rest of him. He also felt like he could sleep for a week, but that could wait. He probed cautiously at a loose tooth with the tip of his tongue and winced. He hoped he wasn’t going to lose another of the back ones. Fisher was right—in Haven their reputation had protected them and their authority as Guard Captains. In Forest Castle they were just two strangers and fair prey for anyone who thought they could get away with it. Hawk frowned. He couldn’t throw his weight around and intimidate people anymore; he’d have to use his wits to outthink and outmaneuver people. Strangely, the thought did not displease him. He’d increasingly disliked the kind of man Haven had made of him. It was one of the main reasons he’d been so ready to leave.

Sir Vivian ushered them into a small room, sparsely furnished with characterless furniture and a single portrait of King Harald hanging on the wall. Sir Vivian lit the only light and then gestured for his men to stand guard outside the door. He closed the door and locked it. He yawned once, shrugged apologetically, and then sat down on the most comfortable chair. Hawk and Fisher chose to lean against the wall.

“The Magus has to be involved in Harald’s death,” said Sir Vivian, diving straight into what he knew they wanted to talk about. “Either he dropped the wards to let the killer in, or they were never what he claimed in the first place. It’s the only explanation. And only a really powerful magic-user could have gotten past me and my guards without being seen. I had all the ways to the King’s chambers sewn up tighter than a flea’s arse.”

“Is the Magus the only magic-user in the Castle powerful enough to have done such a thing?” asked Hawk.

Sir Vivian frowned. “Technically speaking, yes. No one knows just how powerful the Shaman is if he’s pushed. He’s done some very disturbing things in his time. Harald worried about him. Wouldn’t see him or speak to him. In fact, I was under strict orders not to allow the Shaman anywhere near the King at any time. I tried giving the Shaman bodyguards, ostensibly for his own protection, so I could keep an eye on him, but he lost them so quickly, there was no point in continuing.”

“And there’s no one else?” Fisher asked after a pause. “We walked through a hall packed with magic-users when we first arrived.”

“None of them are worth a damn,” Sir Vivian said flatly, “or they wouldn’t still be in that hall. The Land has a crying need for competent high-level magicians, and the Throne pays good money for their services. If they were any good, they’d have brought themselves to our attention and they’d be out in the field earning their keep. And the Magus always has an eye for fresh competition. I know a few things about magic. You know who my father was? Of course you do. Everyone does. No, the only other name that comes to mind is Tiffany. The Academy is very proud of her. Practically forced her on the Court. And she did show up really well against the darkness yesterday. Suspicious that she never evidenced such power before.”

“You don’t care much for magic-users, do you?” asked Fisher. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“You can’t trust them,” said Sir Vivian. “Their magic is always going to be the most important thing in their lives. You never knew my father or my mother. The famously unreliable High Warlock and the infamous Night Witch. A drunk and a monster. When the Blue Moon was full, and the long night threatened all who lived, it wasn’t the magic-users that saved the day. It was Prince Rupert and Princess Julia. And all the rest of us, good men and true, fighting the demons with cold steel and steadfast hearts. We don’t need magic to run our lives. We just think we do, because it makes things so easy, so convenient. Well, some things aren’t meant to be easy; they’re there so we can become strong by overcoming them. Our reliance on magic makes us weak. We’d all be much better off without it.”

“The High Warlock and the Night Witch were extreme examples of their kind,” Hawk said carefully. “I take it you were never close to your parents?”

“I only ever knew my father, and that from a distance. He wanted nothing to do with the raising of us. I knew him well enough to know I wanted to be nothing like him.” Sir Vivian’s voice was steady, but his eyes were very cold. “Magic made him what he was, and ruined his life. He knew how to make himself a legend, but he never did learn the trick of being a man. As for my mother, she murdered young women and bathed in their blood to keep herself young and beautiful. No one knows how she and my father got together, or why she chose to give birth to me and my brother, Gawaine. When I was younger, I sometimes thought of going into the Darkwood to search for her. Though whether to embrace her or kill her I was never sure. Then the Blue Moon came, and it was all too late. She’s supposed to have died in the Demon War. I can’t honestly say I care much, one way or the other. She is irrelevant to who and what I have made of myself.”

“What about your brother, Gawaine?” asked Fisher. She’d never heard Sir Vivian open up so much before, and she was curious to see where it might lead. She only knew him as a traitor against King John, and it was clear there was much more to him than that.

“Gawaine? As children we were inseparable, but we grew apart as we grew older. He was the real hero of Tower Rouge. He decided he would stand and fight, no matter what the odds. Just because it was the right thing to do. I only stayed because I couldn’t leave him on his own. Everyone liked Gawaine. He was the charming one, the courtier. He was the warrior, the hero. I was just his companion, his brother, his shadow, following where Gawaine led. I was happy to do it. He forced me to make more of myself by following his example. I became a hero rather than disappoint my beloved brother.

“And then he married Emma. Beautiful, charming, and utterly empty-headed. She enchanted Gawaine, but not me. I knew her for what she was—a leech living off his fame and courage and potential. Just like me. We drove Gawaine to distraction, fighting each other over him. In the end there was a scandal, Emma’s fault, of course, and they went away to Redhart. I heard Emma died there recently. I’m glad. Perhaps my brother will come home now. Though I hear he’s become right-hand man to Redhart’s new King and Queen, Viktor and Catriona.”

“How did you feel about Harald?” asked Hawk, trying hard to make the question sound casual, just carrying on the conversation.

“The King?” Sir Vivian’s mouth pursed. “Not an easy man to get to know. Never really liked him. He betrayed me once, but he was right to do so. I was involved in a conspiracy against King John, a stupid thing. You can look up the details if you’re interested. King John could have had me executed. I certainly expected him to. But he saw something in me, gave me a second chance. He sent me into internal exile, to teach the peasants how to defend themselves against the demons. If I was still alive when the War was over, I could come back and be Pardoned. I fully expected to die out there in the long night, but I was glad of a chance to prove my loyalty and gratitude to the King.