The Two Torcs (28 page)

Shouts came from right outside the door.

“It is time for you to retire for the evening,” her love told her. “Quickly, before these idiots gain entrance and make everything even more complicated.”

She pouted. She’d much rather have stayed and watched him kill every last man who dared to intrude. No, she’d just have to wait to lick their blood off him when he came to bed. Moving toward the door that would lead to the staircase nearest their room, she paused and turned. The main doors flew open. Four men ran in, blades dripping the blood of the guards outside.

She frowned. It wasn’t much of an assault. Were it not for the surprise, they’d be dead already. Somehow she thought there would have been more.

* * *

They crept up the stairs from the dungeon. Old Soldier had been right about the secret passageway. At the top it was a simple matter for Robin to put an arrow through the throat of the lone guard. Then they flooded out of the dark, dank basement and made for the throne room, where the sounds of battle had just begun.

A moment later they burst through a back door, one usually reserved for the king alone. Robin stepped in and quickly moved to the side as he let arrow after arrow fly. Men streamed past him, fanning out around the room.

Much headed straight for Marian, as Robin had told him to. He covered the boy’s progress with his bow, felling any who stepped in front of him. All the while Robin was trying to keep an eye out for the Sheriff. He could hear the black arrow in his quiver as though it were singing to him, begging him to take it out and use it.

Much reached Marian and frantically began untying her. His feet slid in blood that was pooled on the floor. Robin tried not to think of whose blood it might be.

His fingers kept flying, each arrow was barely notched before it was buried in another enemy. Those who had come at his call streamed into the room, attacking the Sheriff’s men with a host of different weapons. As grateful as he was for the help, it became harder to find clean targets. He didn’t want to risk shooting one of his own people. He had full faith in his aim, but in the heat of battle people moved quickly, and a friend might suddenly be where a foe had been only a heartbeat earlier.

Old Soldier was in the thick of things, bodies piling up around him. He was a magnificent sight with blood dripping from his sword as he yanked it free from another of the Sheriff’s demons who crumpled to the ground.

Ten feet away from him, though, Aiden was not doing nearly so well. The man had not always been the bravest, but he had charged into that room with the rest of them.

One soldier lay dead at his feet.

Robin quickly put arrows through two others that were converging on him, but watched helpless as a third seemed to rise up as though from the floor itself and ram a sword through Aiden’s gut. He heaved the poor man into the air and then tossed him aside like a rag doll.

Rage filled Robin as the lifeless body hit the floor.

* * *

Chastity made it to Marian’s side just as the miller’s son finished untying her. Together they got her to her feet, but Chastity was dismayed to discover that Marian couldn’t stand.

The sickness that had taken her seemed worse now. Her mistress’s face was pale, her skin nearly translucent. Her eyes were glassy and bloodshot and there was no tension in her body. She could barely even hold her head up straight let alone move her arms or legs.

“We’ll have to carry her,” she told the boy.

He nodded, and before she could do anything he had hoisted Marian up into his arms as though she weighed nothing.

“Take her back the way we came,” Chastity ordered.

Much nodded and started to run for the back of the room. She began to follow but then stopped, turning to look for Will. He’d been wounded earlier, and she’d never had a chance to find out how badly. Fear prickled along her skin.

At last her eyes fell on a hooded figure some distance away from Lord Longstride, struggling against a soldier. Though she could not see his face, the quickening of her pulse was all she needed to know that the hooded fighter was Will. With her very next breath, though, her fear increased as she realized that there was blood dripping down both his arms.

She ran toward him, yanking the dagger free of her bodice and ramming it into the neck of the soldier Will was fighting. The man hit the floor and she reached out to Will.

“We have Marian,” she said. “Much is taking her back out the way we came. Go, protect them, I’ll alert the others.”

Will nodded and turned to go. She sucked in her breath as she noticed that a patch of blood on his back was quickly spreading. He was wounded worse than she had feared.

She forced herself to turn and scan the room, looking for the rest of their compatriots.

* * *

The Lady Marian weighed almost nothing, and Much was nearly to the door that would lead back out the way they’d come. He could see it just up ahead. Then, suddenly, a dark figure seemed to slither into the space between him and it.

Much slid to a halt and stared in awe and fear at the Sheriff who transfixed him with eyes that seemed to burn like flames.

“Give her to me, boy, and I won’t hurt you.”

It was a lie. Even if it wasn’t, there was no way he was giving the lady to him. He took a step back, looking around for Robin—who was no longer where Much had last seen him. He turned back as the Sheriff began to stride toward him, a sneer twisting his lips.

“You can’t run from me, boy,” the man growled. “Don’t even try.” Then, from out of nowhere, Lenore raced into sight. She threw herself onto the Sheriff’s back and began stabbing at him with a dagger. He roared in surprise and fury and twisted, trying to reach her.

Much darted around them and made it through the doorway. He ran and didn’t look back until the sounds of fighting had faded into the distance.

* * *

Tears were streaming openly down Friar Tuck’s cheeks as he untied the bard that had been his friend through so many years and so many trials. They had taken Alan’s tongue. It was unthinkable, but true.

Alan had revived at some point and struggled to stand on his own. Chastity ran past.

“We have Marian,” she shouted before she disappeared from view.

He heard a clamor of noise and he turned just in time to see a host of nobles enter the room, moving stiffly and carrying swords. Each of them had a glazed look on their face as though they were sleepwalking.

Or under a dark curse.

Friar Tuck crossed himself.

It was time to go. Crouching down, he put his shoulder into Alan’s stomach and then stood, the bard draped over his shoulder, and made his way to the exit.

* * *

Will was hurt bad. Every step was getting harder to take as he chased after Much and Marian. At last he came upon them, just short of exiting the castle, clearly waiting for someone to give them orders. The rest should be coming soon. He prayed they would.

Suddenly he could hear screams, carrying far more clearly than the sounds of battle. It chilled him to the bone. Had he not already been shaking from his injuries it would have been enough to cause his knees to quiver.

He looked at Marian and all he could think about was Robin, and how much his cousin loved her. Robin was still back there, fighting. He just hoped Chastity got to him soon.

* * *

Little John swung his sword, cleaving in half the demon that had been on the verge of killing Audric. Rage roared through him. The boy was too young to be here. The others shouldn’t have let him or his brother come. It just showed how selfish they could be, putting children in harm’s way.

“We’re leaving!” the castle girl who served Marian shouted as she raced past toward the far side of the room. He scooped up the boy under his left arm and turned to go.

As he did he saw Timothy, one of his friends since youth who had worked the fields with him. He was disarmed, standing before a soldier. John hefted the sword in his right hand, and then threw it for all it was worth. Propelled by his massive strength, it impaled the soldier.

“We’re leaving!” he shouted, and Timothy needed no second warning.

“Nice move,” Old Soldier grunted as he fell into step.

“What’s wrong with them?” John asked, coming to a sudden halt as he saw nobles moving around the room, some fighting, others just waving their swords in the air, all of them moving stiffly as if they were made of wood.

“I don’t know and I’m not going to stick around to find out,” Old Soldier said grimly.

Sound strategy.

* * *

As their men began pouring back down the tunnel, Will looked for Robin. He felt relief when he saw him helping another who was limping. There were many wounded and others who had not yet shown. He saw Jansa, the woman from the kitchen who had saved his life, running down the corridor, clutching the hand of a child. He was glad she was getting out. She and some of the others passed them, Old Soldier shepherded some more.

At any moment the soldiers would be coming, in numbers too great to fight. They were never going to make it, not without some sort of distraction. And Robin would be fool enough to stay until the last straggler left, getting himself killed in the process.

Much stood, moving from foot to foot, looking to him for an order. Marian was in the boy’s arms, pale, but looking resolute. Will coughed, and blood bubbled up on his lips. He reached out and put a hand on Marian’s arm.

“What would you do to save Robin?” he asked.

She paused. “You asked me that question before.”

“I’m asking it again.”

“My answer is the same,” she said. “I’d do anything.”

“Unfortunately, my answer is the same, too,” Will said. He touched her cheek. “Take care of him.”

“Will, what are you—”

He turned and ran back toward the throne room, passing the others, and pulling the hood of his jerkin up. He had an arrow in one hand and a sword in the other and he stabbed and thrust with them both until he had made it back inside.

Prince John turned.

“You!” he thundered.

“Yes,” Will said. His heart was pounding in his chest as he reached up and revealed his face. He could do this for Robin, for Marian, to give them a fighting chance. He took a deep breath.

“I am the Hood.”

* * *

“
No!
” Chastity tried to shout, her heart stopping within her. Her words came out only as the faintest of whispers. She had been just about to enter the corridor when Will had come running back into the hall. She understood now what it was he was doing.

“Stop!” John thundered.

The soldiers had been about to rush from the room after the others. At his command, they stopped. The nobles who had been milling aimlessly about stopped as well. All eyes turned to John as he strode toward Will, his face contorting.

“You!” he said again.

Will smiled, that rakish, charming smile she had found so endearing and childlike. Only now there was blood on his lips, and it made the expression seem sinister instead.

“Of course, you fool. Who else could it have been?” Will said, his voice mocking. “I nearly laughed myself to tears when you thought Marian might be the spy in your castle. It was me all along, and the steward worked with me.”

Chastity blinked.

“Bring the steward!” John roared.

Two soldiers left hastily. Moments later they returned with the man who looked like he was about to crawl out of his own skin.

“Do you know who this man is?” John demanded of the steward, a shaking finger pointed at Will.

“My liege, that is Will Scarlet,” the steward said, voice trembling, eyes bugging from his head. He probably thought that John had lost his mind. He might as well have.

“It’s alright, my friend, you don’t have to cover for me anymore,” Will said to the man, his voice gentle. “John knows I’m the Hood.”

“The Hood?” the steward gasped. “Surely not, I mean no, I don’t know any such—”

“It’s alright,” Will repeated. “I’ve always loved you for your courage, your loyalty to Richard. Don’t let it fail you now.”

The steward stood, open-mouthed.

He was still standing there, staring, an instant later when the Sheriff ran him through.

“Goodbye, old friend,” Will said as the steward’s body hit the floor.

Will coughed, and more blood appeared on his lips. That was when Chastity realized what he was doing. He was dying, and he was using his final moments to save the others. Tears burned her eyes and streaked down her cheeks.

“So you want us to believe that Marian knew nothing of your masquerade as the Hood?” the Sheriff asked coldly.

Will rolled his eyes.

“That girl child doesn’t understand anything about the way the world works. The night I failed to kill John, I tried to hide in her room. She woke and I had to attempt to seduce her so that she wouldn’t discover the true reason for my being there.”

“So, she’s not even the object of your affection,” the Sheriff said.

Will laughed. “No, Marian’s not my lady.”

Chastity blinked. Her vision came roaring back to her. People weeping because the Hood was dead, and crying “woe to his lady.” The bells would toll, the people would spread the word that the Hood was dead and that woe had befallen his lady. Her. She didn’t know what would become of her, but she knew that she could not let him die alone.

She dropped her weapon and rushed forward. She threw her arms around him. He was cold, so very cold, as she pressed shaking lips to his, blood coated her mouth. She pressed her face against his chest and began to sob. The vision hadn’t been about Marian and Robin. It had been about her and Will.

He collapsed into her arms and they fell together to the floor. She cradled him in her arms, his blood seeping into her clothes.

“I should have kissed you sooner,” he said.

“I kissed
you
, remember?” she responded, suppressing a sob, trying to be strong for him and knowing that she was failing. A light appeared in his eyes and he smiled at her so gently it broke her heart.

“I love you,” he whispered, for her ears alone.