Shadows of Sherwood (5 page)

Mmm
. . . pie. Robyn's stomach growled again. She struggled to remember things her father had said about Sherwood County. How much farther could it be? She had to eat soon, and surely there would be stores over there.

Do not use your Tag. Do not even show it to anyone.

As her father's voice drifted back to her, Robyn remembered how she had giggled when he said this. Not use her Tag? Ridiculous! Points were the only form of currency; the only way to buy anything in a store was to scan your Tag and have the payment drawn from your account.

They will track you
, he'd told her.
Just do what you have to do until I find you.

There were fruit trees somewhere in the Notting Wood, she remembered. A few years ago, her class had taken a tour of the natural orchards. The students had been allowed to pick apples and pears from the trees, and there had been people from the other districts there, too, gathering fruit into baskets. If she could find those trees, she could eat without using her number.

As soon as the light came up, Robyn reached for the envelope in her pocket. The front was plain, which she already
knew. She turned it over and opened it swiftly, heedless of the scratches and cuts on her fingers after the plunge through the woods. Scrawled across the flap in Dad's handwriting:

The gloves will protect you—always wear them.

The map will guide you—keep it close.

The cash may come in handy, when the time is right.

The envelope contained a folded piece of old parchment and a collection of thin, rectangular colorful papers, with various symbols in the corners of each. The papers were uniform, and just the right size to fit in the letter envelope. The parchment unfolded into a ragged-edged map the size of a dinner plate. It was hard to hold the edges of the map up with the rest of the things in hand, so Robyn stuffed the envelope of colored papers into her backpack and focused on the map. She didn't know what “cash” was, but it must
be important if it was all Dad had left for her in the event of an emergency.

Robyn didn't know what to make of the symbols. It wasn't a map of Nott City, as far as she could tell. Nothing looked familiar on it, except for a green blotch that could possibly be the Notting Wood. But she wasn't even sure which end of the map was up, or if she was anywhere on it right now.

She folded the map and brought out the sphere again to examine it in the daylight. It was not entirely broken. The two pieces were unevenly split across seams in the metal, and sinewy wires snaked between the sections. Robyn pushed the halves together until they fit. The words
Breath, Blood, Bone
were etched into the metal in tiny script.

Robyn turned the strange sphere over in her palm. What was it? With her scratched-up fingers, she wiped off some smudges of dirt from the sphere, then she blew away a few leaf fragments from its surface.

The sphere vibrated in her hand. Robyn gasped, holding her arm outstretched. The thin silver surface began to glow. Up from the glow stretched a tiny figure. It looked like—Dad! The hologram grew to life size. Robyn tipped her head back, dizzy from the illusion. She set the sphere carefully on the bed of brown needles at her feet and stepped back.

“Robyn, honey, if you're receiving this message, I fear the worst has happened. Listen closely, love, for there is much I will need you to do now.”

The lifelike image brought tears to Robyn's eyes. Dad. He seemed so real that she reached out to touch him, but there was only light and air.

“I'm sorry you will be alone to deal with the challenges ahead. There are many others who can help you, but you will have to—”

The hologram blipped and blurred.

“Dad?” Robyn cried into the cavern of trees.

“You must visit the shrines. Gather the Elements. They . . .”

His voice came through clearly one moment, then faded the next.

“. . . moon lore has promised us there is one who can save us. One who will lead us through darkness and light, and Robyn . . .”

“Dad,” she whispered, stretching out her hand as the image dissipated once more.

“. . . for you and you alone . . . ancient map of Sherwood holds many secrets . . . every arrow . . .”

The sphere's light dimmed, but Dad's voice carried through in static fragments.

“. . . conceal your Tag . . . the gloves . . . are strong and brave . . . love you . . . believe in you alwa——”

The hologram blinked and faded. Robyn tucked away the sphere pieces, blinked back her tears, and kept walking. If only she hadn't dropped it. Dad's message might have been complete.

If Robyn had had any tools with her, she could probably have fixed it. She could have at least made sure all the wires were tightened and properly rebound the pieces to one another. She would have to find the right tools somehow and try. She had to hear the whole message and understand what Dad needed her to do. She couldn't let him down.

After a short while the terrain of the woods began to change. The trees thinned, the branches raised and straightened, and their leaves gave way to needles. The viny ground morphed into a carpet of brown needles. Robyn gazed around in wonder. She remembered coming into this part of the Notting Wood once, on the same class trip. The area was known as Sherwood Forest because the trees were evergreen and it bordered Sherwood County.

For the first time in a while, Robyn felt the slightest bit hopeful. She kept walking. It wasn't long before she heard voices among the pines.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Voices in the Forest

Robyn quickly tucked the map into her jeans pocket. She whirled this way and that, seeking the source of the voices. She saw nothing.

She stood stock-still and cocked her head to one side, listening. She heard nothing more. Perhaps the wind was playing games. If she could only—

Someone grabbed her from behind.

Robyn screamed. She fought the strong hands that gripped her upper arm. She wrenched herself around to see who was holding her. All she caught was a glimpse of a crisp brown sleeve.

A second man appeared in front of her, wearing the same uniform. A tall, hefty guy. “What have we here?” he said.

“Let me go,” Robyn cried.

The man smiled, but not to be nice. The smile revealed deep-set wrinkles. His skin was burnished gold from sun
exposure, such that his thin blond mustache almost blended into his lip. His shirt was not simple brown, it turned out. It was camouflage-swirled and emblazoned with a large purple shield that read, Nott City Military Police.

Police!
Robyn thought, flooded with relief. Someone who could help her. “Please,” she cried. “You have to help me. My parents—”

“Please,” the military policeman whimpered, in a mocking echo of Robyn's plea. “Please help me,” he mimicked. Then in his own rough voice declared, “What do you think, I was born yesterday?”

The other still held her fast by the arms. “Let's go,” he said. “Haven't you heard? The woods are off-limits.”

“Since when?” Robyn demanded, outraged that they dared hold her so roughly. “Let me go this instant,” she insisted. But the grip on her did not lessen. Robyn's outrage dissolved into fear. Were these the same men who had come after her parents? Nott City had a military, and it had police, but the two were supposed to be separate.

They tugged her backpack off her shoulders.
No
, Robyn thought.
The gadget from Barclay. The envelope from Dad. The hologram!

The MP in front of Robyn hefted the bag in his hand, testing the weight. It must have felt close to empty; he didn't unzip it. “Planning to fill this with contraband, eh?”

“I—I haven't done anything wrong,” Robyn stammered. “Please—”

“Trespassing,” he responded. “Resisting arrest.”

The PalmTabs the MPs wore pinged in unison. A voice through the speakers mumbled something Robyn could not make out.

The MP in front of her raised his hand to his mouth. “Negative. It's just some girl from Sherwood.”

Robyn struggled. “No!” she blurted. “I'm from Castle.”

The two men laughed. “Sure,” said the one holding her. “You were just out for a twenty-five mile stroll.” Had she really walked that far?

Robyn tried to fight off his grip. “Let me go. My father will—” She clamped her mouth shut. Best not to reveal who she was until she knew what was happening.

Both MPs had their hands on her now. One at each arm, they carried her between them. Her feet barely touched the ground. They hustled her to a clearing where a small jeep sat waiting.

The jeep burst out of the forest and snaked through the grid-like streets of Sherwood. The two MPs rode up front. Robyn finally got a glimpse of the one who had been holding her. He was much younger than the other, with dusty-brown hair and strong, chiseled features.

In the backseat, Robyn's hands were bound with a thin elastic rope, secured to the jeep bar above her head. Through the gap between her elbows, she studied the unfamiliar scenery. Tall buildings with many windows, built close together. The buildings did not have front lawns but were right up
against the sidewalks, which were right up against the street. Small shops and many nondescript doorways flitted by, separated only by the occasional alley. In the distance she recognized the iconic twin steeples of the Nottingham Cathedral, standing tall above the city.

Robyn had seen pictures of Sherwood, of course, but she hadn't ever seen it in person. She concentrated hard on the buildings and the people to counteract the looming question in her mind: Where were they taking her?

Along the sidewalks, people walked and talked and gathered. People everywhere. Some of them looked quite ragged, Robyn thought, but Sherwood was a poor district, so maybe that was to be expected. She noticed hunched elder women pushing small, loaded carts along the sidewalk. Men in ill-fitting suits standing in line beside the padlocked door of a building tagged Employment Office. Barefoot children jumping rope and chasing one another through a blacktopped empty lot.