Shadows of Sherwood (38 page)

“You're Nessa Croft?”

“Yes,” the young woman said. “And you must be Robyn.”

As they locked eyes, a surge of kinship arced between them. “You're Most Wanted, too,” Robyn said. Not the first thing she would have thought she'd say to Nessa Croft. But there was something comforting about laying eyes on another high-level fugitive.

Nessa laughed. “I'm down to number three now, thanks to you.”

“You broadcast from here?”

“I broadcast from a lot of places,” she said. “They try to trace my radio signal.”

She carried a carved wooden arrow sewn against the straps of her radio bag. She packed the portable equipment carefully away.

“Why does everybody talk about breath and blood and bone?” Robyn held the hologram sphere. “You always say it in your broadcast.”

“The Elements?” Nessa said. “They're all we are. They're everything we have. That's what we have to put into this fight.”

“Elements?” Robyn echoed. “Wait, I thought the Elements were earth, air, and water?”

“Yes.” Nessa shrugged. “In the moon lore, it's the same difference. We are the earth. The earth is part of us.”

Robyn shook her head. “I don't understand.”

“Earth is flesh and bone; air is our breath; water, our blood.” Nessa said. “It's in all of us.”

“Oh,” Robyn said. “So—”

“But on top of that,” Nessa continued, “each of our spirits aligns with an element. It drives us. For me, it is air.” She laughed lightly. “I guess it's fitting, then, that I use the airwaves to do my work. To serve the Crescendo.”

“What is the Crescendo? People keep saying that, too.”

“The Crescents' work isn't finished. They want to come back to fight Crown, but they are getting on in years. They can't do it again; not alone. We are rising
together
. The next generation. You and me. Many others.”

“We are the Crescendo?” Robyn said.

Nessa nodded. “Everyone who wants to be.” She reached out and touched Robyn's cheek. “Follow your heart, little one. Soon enough, the people will follow you. The fire is alive in you. Anyone who knows the moon lore will see it.”

“Fire?” Robyn said. “But, is fire one of the Elements? Blood, breath, and bone are only three . . .”

“Fire is the spirit, the soul. It breathes, it bleeds, it bolsters. It's not one of the Elements.” Nessa slung her radio bag over her shoulder. “Fire is not constant, or inevitable. It's . . . a blessing of sorts. And few are so blessed as you.”

She blew Robyn a kiss and disappeared through the door.

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

The Braid and the Prophecy

Robyn went back upstairs. She found Laurel sitting up, leaning against the wall. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” Laurel said. Her voice sounded weak, but when she opened her eyes, she looked much stronger already. The medicine must be powerful, to bring about a reversal so quickly.

Robyn put her arms around the younger girl, so happy to see her looking better.

“Your hair is really wet,” Laurel said, patting the damp spot on Robyn's shirt. The tail of her braid was dripping down her back. “Yeah, I just took a shower downstairs,” Robyn explained.

Laurel jumped to her feet so fast Robyn nearly toppled backward herself. “There's a shower!” she exclaimed. This sudden burst of energy was promising.

“Yeah.” Robyn led the way, keeping her arm around Laurel to steady her. “It's one of the things I wanted to show you here.”

When Laurel laid eyes on the working shower in the basement, Robyn thought the girl might implode from enthusiasm. “An inside shower!” she screeched, prompting Robyn to grin enormously.

“Can we keep it?” Laurel pleaded, bouncing up and down.

Robyn nodded. “We can stay here as long as we keep it secret,” she said.

Of course, all Laurel wanted to do after that was take a shower, so Robyn used the time to scout around the church for things they could use. She found the pile of thin, dusty cot mattresses in a basement closet and dragged a second one up to the room on the second floor where Laurel had lain. She positioned the sleeping pallets against adjoining walls so they each would have a personal area to occupy.

Key had been right about needing to move, Robyn realized. As temporary digs went, the church wasn't so bad at all. The kitchen was right across the hall. Definitely a step up from the tree house. Even though it was farther from her real home.

Good enough for now, Robyn decided, looking around the dilapidated church. But she wouldn't miss this place one bit when it was finally time to go home.

When Laurel came up later, sparkling clean and beaming, Robyn told her, “There's something else I want to show you.”

Laurel's energy was nearly spent. Robyn moved slowly as she led her friend through the secret entrance to the moon shrine. Laurel was immediately delighted by the glowing curtain.

“It's pretty,” she said, tilting her head.

“I don't know,” Robyn said. “There must be a meaning. Do you think it's some kind of code?”

“Code?” Laurel echoed.

“Yeah,” Robyn said. “What do you think the words mean?”

Laurel sighed dejectedly. She sat down on the gravel and lowered her head. “Oh. I don't know. What does it say?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Robyn answered. “It's a mess. And why is it cut into strands like that?”

“Six strands. What are there six of?” Laurel mused. “Six districts, if you don't count Castle.”

“The moon lore might not,” Robyn agreed. “It's older than the lines around the city.”

“Six days and six nights before the day of rest,” Laurel offered.

“Maybe we need the moon lore book,” Robyn said. “But I left it in the tree house.” Key's tree house. Who knew what he might have done with their things by now?

“Yeah, it must be something significant to the moon lore,” Laurel agreed. “Is six a special number? We could go to T.C. and ask Chazz. He knows lots about the moon,” she suggested. “Or you could ask the old lady. What was her name again?”

“Eveline.” Eveline, with the braid. The braid, which was important. Robyn stared at the divided curtain, as realization slowly dawned. “My braid has six strands.”

Laurel leaned to look around behind Robyn. “Really? It looks like way more than six.”

All the writing on the curtain was etched at a slant. “If I braid it, maybe we'll be able to read it!” Robyn exclaimed.

Laurel clapped her hands. “Oh, try it!”

Robyn did, but very quickly she realized it wasn't going to be that easy. After several failed attempts, she released the cords. “I'm used to doing it behind me,” she said, frustrated.

“I don't know how you do it at all,” Laurel said, gnawing on a piece of licorice that must have come from Tucker's kitchen stash.

“On my own head, it feels different.” Robyn pantomimed the motion of reaching back and over.

“Try it that way,” Laurel said. She scooped the ribbons into her arm and swept them over Robyn's head.

“That's brilliant,” Robyn said, and reached for the ribbons above her. The cloth strips were much thicker and wider than sections of her own hair, but Laurel was right, the motion came much easier. Especially since there was no need to worry about picking up and adding extra pieces, like she had to with her hair.

“Wow,” said Laurel.

Robyn stepped back to survey her handiwork. “Yeah. Wow.”

“That's so cool,” Laurel said. “What do you think it means?”

 

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

A Message in the Moonlight

Braided, the glowing strands no longer spoke total nonsense:

OFFSPRING OF DARKNESS, DAUGHTER OF LIGHT

GIFTING THE PEOPLE, BEACON INTHE NIGHT

EMERGE AFTER SHADOWS, HIDING HER FACE

HOPE OFTHE ANCIENTS, DISCOVER HER PLACE

BREATH BLOOD BONE, ALL ELEMENTS UNITE

BLAZE FROM WITHIN, INSPIRE THEIR FIGHT

SUN FINDS HOME, IN ANCIENT RUNE

DEEP INTHE CRADLE, OFTHE CRESCENT MOON

Each line had six words, one on each strand of the braid. But the rhyming message as a whole still didn't make a whole lot of sense to Robyn.

As they stood there, the curtain began to relax and unravel. Robyn reached down and caught the ends. She looked around for something to tie it in place with.

“I don't think it ought to be tied,” Laurel commented matter-of-factly. And Robyn agreed.

So Robyn stood reading and rereading the message out loud until they both practically had it memorized. Then she remembered the sticky notes in her pocket and copied the phrases onto that, just in case. When she released the bottom, the strands slowly separated.

The girls left the moon shrine and returned upstairs. By the time they reached the pallets Robyn had prepared, Laurel could barely keep her eyes open.

Robyn recited the moon lore verse in her head again as she lay down.
What does it mean?
she wondered, but the wondering was no longer so deep or so empty.
The one who can lead the people
. . . , she thought.
Offspring of darkness, the daughter of light. The hope of the ancients. Could it be . . . ?