Once In a Blue Moon by Simon R. Green Page B
Authors: Simon R. Green
let me in, with your precious applicants for the Auditions, and no one saw me. I live inside people now. You saw to that. You’ll never find me, and I’ll be long gone anyway. Aren’t you glad to see me again, my most treasured enemies, my dearest rivals? You’re as much a legend as me now, Rupert. Julia.”
“What do you want?” said Fisher.
“Your grandchildren are in danger,” said the Demon Prince sweetly. “They will die, slowly and horribly, unless you return to the Forest Kingdom to save them. A war is coming. Country against country, army against army . . . Farms and towns and cities burning in the night, blood and slaughter in the woods, terror on the march. The darkness is rising, the Blue Moon is coming back, and you and I will play the game of Fate and Destiny one last time. And I will finally have my revenge . . . when the Wild Magic is loosed in the world of men forever. Stop me, my dear ones, if you can.”
He vanished, gone in a moment. Nothing left to show he had ever been there, except for the scorch marks his feet had left on the floor. The old dog at the foot of the bed raised his great grey head.
“Oh, bloody hell. Not again.”
“Hush, Chappie,” said Hawk.
TWO
A MARRIAGE IS ARRANGED
O n a perfect early-autumn day, under a perfect sky, Princess Catherine of the Kingdom of Redhart went running happily through the huge cultivated gardens outside Castle Midnight, along with her lifetime friend and one true love, the King’s Champion, Malcolm Barrett. She was tall and blonde and beautiful, and he was tall and dark and handsome, and they were so much in love that sometimes they would look into each other’s eyes and find it hard to breathe. They ran back and forth across the great sprawling gardens, chasing and being chased, laughing happily as they revelled and sported across the wide lawns. They ran round and round the artfully piled-up rockeries with their tumbling, bubbling streams, raced round and round the massive flower beds that blazed with brilliant colours, and finally in and out of the neat rows of poplar trees, where squirrels chattered angrily at them from the high branches.
Two young people, so happy in love, on a bright autumnal day. Not a cloud in the sky to warn them that a storm was coming.
Princess Catherine had hair so blonde it all but glowed, bouncing halfway down her back in heavy curls. She had eyes as blue as the sky, lips like heart’s blood, and without even trying she was as cool and refreshing as a drink of clear water straight from the well. Her face was high-boned but not harsh, with a merry gaze that could flash with fire in an instant, and a smile that sometimes seemed to go on forever. She was always happy, always laughing—except for when she lost her temper. And then wise men would flee for the horizon, or at the very least hide behind the furniture until she stopped throwing things. Catherine was always very sorry afterwards, and would even help clean up the mess. As the King’s only daughter, she had been thoroughly indulged, and to her credit, she knew that. Anyone who thought they could use her to get to the King, through gifts and flatteries and blatant insincerities, was in for a rude awakening. And quite possibly a good kick in the arse. Catherine had few real friends, by her own choice, and she was fiercely protective of all of them.
Today, as most other days, Catherine was wearing rough boy’s clothes, consisting of a simple tunic and trousers and boots, because she was always off doing something she knew she wasn’t supposed to be doing, like riding, hunting, exploring, and generally getting into trouble. When cautioned, or even scolded, by her father or others, she would just say that expensive robes and dresses and formal clothes weren’t practical. As though that was the answer to everything. If anyone was ever stupid enough to press the point, she would lose her temper. So most people didn’t press the point. The King
“What do you want?” said Fisher.
“Your grandchildren are in danger,” said the Demon Prince sweetly. “They will die, slowly and horribly, unless you return to the Forest Kingdom to save them. A war is coming. Country against country, army against army . . . Farms and towns and cities burning in the night, blood and slaughter in the woods, terror on the march. The darkness is rising, the Blue Moon is coming back, and you and I will play the game of Fate and Destiny one last time. And I will finally have my revenge . . . when the Wild Magic is loosed in the world of men forever. Stop me, my dear ones, if you can.”
He vanished, gone in a moment. Nothing left to show he had ever been there, except for the scorch marks his feet had left on the floor. The old dog at the foot of the bed raised his great grey head.
“Oh, bloody hell. Not again.”
“Hush, Chappie,” said Hawk.
TWO
A MARRIAGE IS ARRANGED
O n a perfect early-autumn day, under a perfect sky, Princess Catherine of the Kingdom of Redhart went running happily through the huge cultivated gardens outside Castle Midnight, along with her lifetime friend and one true love, the King’s Champion, Malcolm Barrett. She was tall and blonde and beautiful, and he was tall and dark and handsome, and they were so much in love that sometimes they would look into each other’s eyes and find it hard to breathe. They ran back and forth across the great sprawling gardens, chasing and being chased, laughing happily as they revelled and sported across the wide lawns. They ran round and round the artfully piled-up rockeries with their tumbling, bubbling streams, raced round and round the massive flower beds that blazed with brilliant colours, and finally in and out of the neat rows of poplar trees, where squirrels chattered angrily at them from the high branches.
Two young people, so happy in love, on a bright autumnal day. Not a cloud in the sky to warn them that a storm was coming.
Princess Catherine had hair so blonde it all but glowed, bouncing halfway down her back in heavy curls. She had eyes as blue as the sky, lips like heart’s blood, and without even trying she was as cool and refreshing as a drink of clear water straight from the well. Her face was high-boned but not harsh, with a merry gaze that could flash with fire in an instant, and a smile that sometimes seemed to go on forever. She was always happy, always laughing—except for when she lost her temper. And then wise men would flee for the horizon, or at the very least hide behind the furniture until she stopped throwing things. Catherine was always very sorry afterwards, and would even help clean up the mess. As the King’s only daughter, she had been thoroughly indulged, and to her credit, she knew that. Anyone who thought they could use her to get to the King, through gifts and flatteries and blatant insincerities, was in for a rude awakening. And quite possibly a good kick in the arse. Catherine had few real friends, by her own choice, and she was fiercely protective of all of them.
Today, as most other days, Catherine was wearing rough boy’s clothes, consisting of a simple tunic and trousers and boots, because she was always off doing something she knew she wasn’t supposed to be doing, like riding, hunting, exploring, and generally getting into trouble. When cautioned, or even scolded, by her father or others, she would just say that expensive robes and dresses and formal clothes weren’t practical. As though that was the answer to everything. If anyone was ever stupid enough to press the point, she would lose her temper. So most people didn’t press the point. The King