Hooded Man (115 page)

“Tanek, dammit, listen to me! You know he’ll kill whoever’s left when –” Robert had to step sideways to dodge yet another attack, but this time he clambered onto Tanek’s back, kicking as he used it as a springboard. The larger man lost his footing and ended up on the ground, while Robert landed awkwardly and turned. “He’ll just kill whoever wins,” Robert finished.

“He will not get the chance,” Tanek said, sneering. Then he righted himself and came at Robert once again. He lunged with the axe, but then twisted and brought round his shield, using that as a weapon instead. Robert barely had time to lean back, falling over in an effort to prevent the edge of the shield connecting with his windpipe.

Damn and blast, the bastard’s stubborn
, thought Robert. “Unless we work together, it’ll –” Robert rolled to the right, missing another stroke with the axe. He couldn’t believe this; it wouldn’t be his first choice to try and work with one of his greatest enemies either, but Tanek was too obsessed by the idea of killing him and Bohuslav to see clearly. To see how they could win. There was only one way Robert could convince him, that he could see.

That was to beat him.

Robert hunkered down, trying to ignore his body’s protests and waiting for the next strike from Tanek. When it came, he clumsily swung his blade – but hit the handle nonetheless and splintered it. Then he cast the net, but instead of tangling up Tanek’s weapon, he laid it on the ground, so that Tanek would step into it, pulled forward by his momentum. Robert put the end of the net over his good shoulder and tugged as hard as he could. Tanek wobbled, but didn’t fall – so much for that plan – so instead Robert ran around the big man, tangling him up. It was then a matter of batting the axe out of Tanek’s grasp as it poked up through the net, leaving Tanek with just a shield that was bound up with him and couldn’t be shifted.

Robert saw a newfound respect for his fighting abilities in Tanek’s eyes. With shaky hands, he lifted his weapon aloft, blocking out the cheers of the crowd. “The only way we’re going to do this is
together
,” Robert said, close enough that only they could hear. “Remember that.”

He brought the axe down, but veered off at the final moment, cutting through the netting to free Tanek. As far as the onlookers – and indeed Bohuslav himself – were concerned it simply looked like he’d missed, but what he’d done was not lost on the olive-skinned giant. Again, Robert could see in his eyes that an understanding had finally been reached.

Which was why he was surprised when the big man got up, leaving his shield on the floor and grabbing the pollaxe, lashing out again with it seconds later. Robert blocked him with his own axe, but this time he could feel there was no real tension. Tanek grunted, as they drew closer together in a struggle with the weapons. “I will settle with you later,” he promised Robert, then suddenly turned his back, and thrust his axe into the nearest guard.

Robert himself jabbed the blunt end of his axe into another guard’s stomach, bringing it up and knocking the man backwards, taking him down without serious injury. He refused to do as Tanek had and just kill the armed men surrounding them. That was the difference between them, and always would be.

There was gunfire as the remaining guards attempted to get the gladiators to move back into position. To fight each other again, not them. Robert ducked and rolled, lashing out with the handle of the axe to knock a rifle out of a guard’s hand. Then he whacked another over the head with the flat of the blade. Twirling, he saw a gunman draw a bead on him and fire, so he raised the axe, holding his breath as the bullets pinged off the metal. “No, you idiots!” Bohuslav screamed from above. “I want them alive. If they will not kill each other, then
I
will have the satisfaction of ending both their lives!” He ordered one of his personal troopers to gun down the pit guard who’d fired on Robert. At least that would work in their favour, thought Robert; the others wouldn’t dare shoot to kill now.

More gunfire, this time from behind him. Tanek with the first guard’s rifle, spraying bullets into the air, sending the crowd into a panic. It provided necessary cover, but then he shot at more guards on the lower level, hitting chests, heads and stomachs.

“No!
Wound
them, Tanek. Just –”

Another burst told Robert the giant wouldn’t listen. Life meant very little to Tanek, and it was too late to try and change him. For a second Robert wondered what would happen if it came down to him and the giant? If he couldn’t take him alive? Would he himself do as he’d done to De Falaise, to the Tsar? Kill, to rid the world of another monster? And wasn’t there more than a hint of good old-fashioned revenge, as well? Didn’t he want retribution for all the things Tanek had done to them, to Mark and Jack in particular?

Another smattering of machine-gun fire, now targeted at the viewing platform. Robert looked up to see the Native American withdrawing; this wasn’t his fight. But Robert needed something from him, wanted back what the man had taken.

He looked around and saw Tanek’s discarded shield on the ground. He slipped it along one arm until it covered his shoulder, then made a play for the platform, ducking beneath the cordon. Robert pushed through both the guards and the crowd.

“Hood!” roared Tanek. “Leave him!”

Robert cast the axe aside and began to climb towards the ledge. It was a struggle, his muscles and shoulder on fire, but he had to get up there and follow the man in black. It was more important right now than anything else, even getting his hands on Bohuslav.

Bohuslav’s guards were now leaning over the rail, firing at Robert. He pulled his arm across, letting the bullets bounce off the shield. They sparked around him and he wondered how much more the metal could take. In the lull of changing magazines, he urged himself upwards. The threat of being shot at again was a distinct incentive.

Just as one guard was about to open fire, Robert put on a final spurt and grabbed the barrel of his rifle, pulling him over the ledge. Another man turned and aimed at Robert’s head, but was slashed across the back of the neck by Bohuslav. He wanted to kill his captive personally, which was warping the Tsar’s judgement, and for that Robert was grateful.

“Hood!” he heard Tanek shout up again, and risked a look over his shoulder. He saw the giant making his way through the panicking throng.

Robert pulled the shield down to his forearm and struck an oncoming guard full in the face, sending him crashing onto his back. There were now only a couple left – and Bohuslav. Robert bent when one of the remaining guards attempted to restrain him, lifting the man and pitching him over onto the ground before kicking him across the face. The final one he dispatched by bringing up the shield again and catching him under the chin.

There was a swishing sound and Robert leaned to his right as Bohuslav’s sickle came down. Then he ducked a sideswing, aiming to catch him across the face. “I was intending to savour this, but I should just get it over with,” Bohuslav told him. “Now, where did we leave things last time? Ah yes, I was about to end your life.” The mad Russian lashed out again and Robert brought up the shield to block him.

“Hood! He’s mine!” came Tanek’s distinctive rumble from beneath them. It said a lot for what Tanek thought of Bohuslav’s chances against him.

Robert brought up the shield again, deflecting another blow. “You can have him,” Robert answered, then pushed forward, taking Bohuslav to the very edge of the rail.

“No... Wait...” said Bohuslav, but Robert shoved again, harder this time, tipping the man over.

Bohuslav managed to grab one of the bars, his cape flowing behind him. Robert placed his boot on Bohuslav’s fingers. “You two deserve each other,” he told the man, then removed his foot. “Happy landings!”

Leaving Bohuslav to fall, Robert headed off through the doorway of what had once been the office, in search of the Native American.

It led out into a corridor, and Robert now realised he was in some kind of abandoned warehouse. Checking doors left and right, holding the shield up in case there were more guards with guns inside, he ventured up the corridor, following the trail of the man who’d brought him here. The man in black had a head start, that was true, but Robert had to hope he’d just carried on in a straight line, since his tracking abilities were all over the place at the moment. For all the Native American knew, Robert was still occupied downstairs; with a bit of luck, he hadn’t tried to hide his trail too much.

And suddenly there he was: up ahead, a shadow amongst the shadows. Like the professional he was, the Native American
felt
Robert behind him, casting a quick glance over his shoulder, then picking up his pace. There was a bend coming up, which the Native American negotiated quickly.

Damn, I’m going to lose him
, thought Robert, speeding up.

When he rounded the corner, he found the man in black had waited. The first blow struck Robert across the chin; a warning. “Do not follow me.”

“Like Hell. You have something that belongs to me.”

The man grimaced, then came at Robert again, this time with a knife suddenly in hand, slashing furiously. Robert could do nothing but use the shield to fend off the attack. The blows rained down hard, knocking the battered metal from his arm. “My quarrel is not with you,” the kidnapper told him.

“You should have thought of that before,” Robert replied, grabbing the Native American’s arm, bringing it down on his knee and forcing the weapon out of the man’s grasp.

The response was a fighting move Robert hadn’t come across before, somewhere between wrestling and kung fu. It took Robert’s legs out from under him, coupled with a swift elbow to the stomach. “I will not say this again. Do not follow me.”

Robert was getting ready to rise again, so the man in black gave him a kick to keep him down.

“Hey, you,” Robert heard a voice. “I think we’ve got unfinished business.” A fist slammed into the Native American’s face, hard. It knocked him back against the corridor’s wall. Robert couldn’t see who’d delivered it at first, uitil a hooded figure stepped out, following up his first move with a roundhouse kick. “I owe you this!”

The figure pulled back his cowl and it was Mark, his son, last seen tied to a tree, his head covered in dried blood. Robert didn’t question it; he got up, and while the man in black was still disoriented, Robert snatched his bag he’d been carrying – the one the Tsar’s guards had given him. Mark had his bow and arrow out already and was covering the Native American at close range, the tip of the arrow pointing directly at the man’s head. “So much as a twitch,” warned Mark, jabbing the weapon even closer. “Go on, try me.”

Robert smiled; the boy had come on in leaps and bounds since his training had begun and, given the circumstances, he was proud. “Now, let’s see what this was all about.” Robert opened the bag and looked inside. He looked up, puzzled. Then he took out the single object inside: a stone.

“This is what you sold us out for?”

“I don’t expect you to understand. You do not even understand your
own
heritage.”

“I understand enough. What did you do, out there in the forest? How do we put things back to... to normal?”

It seemed a strange thing to say and Mark glanced at him, but they both knew what he meant. It wasn’t exactly normal to dream about things that were going to happen, to have a connection with nature that gave you strength and health, but it was
their
normal. If Robert had been a superhero, then this man had found his weakness. He looked again at the stone he was holding. “Is this it? Is this the way to put things right again? Destroy this?” Robert made as if to drop it on the floor.

“No!” shouted the Native American, holding out his hand. Mark drew back his bow even further. “No... please don’t do that.”

That got his attention anyway,
thought Robert. “Okay, so tell us, or I really will break your precious stone.”

Shadow sighed, slumping back against the wall. He reached down to his belt. Mark tensed, but Shadow held up one hand to show that he was only reaching for another small pouch.

“Easy, mate. Nice and slow. We’ve both seen what you keep inside those things. I don’t fancy another nap.”

“You asked for the way. This is it,” explained the man. He threw the pouch to Robert, who looked inside.

“Looks like ash. What is this?”

“You must take it back to your forest. Release it there and the spirits, your gods, will be freed.” When they both frowned, he continued: “It must mix with the essence of your spiritual home. Now, hand me back what
you
have taken.”

“How do we know this will wor–” Robert didn’t finish the sentence; gunfire filled the corridor. Russian soldiers were approaching. Everyone ducked, and Robert tossed the stone over to the man in black to free his hands, then shoved the pouch of ashes in his pocket. Mark shifted his aim to fire on the Russians, which left their enemy free to nock his own bow, after tucking away his prize.

At first, Robert thought the man might actually shoot at them. Instead, he let off a couple of precisely aimed arrows at the guards. Robert nodded to him and the Native American nodded back. But then he was off, running towards the Russians, leaping over their heads. Mark was about to shoot at him when Robert placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Let him go. We have other problems.”

They certainly did, as automatic fire raked the walls. Rounding the corner, Mark pressed himself up against the pock-marked plaster and shot at the men. Robert had already grabbed the shield to protect himself from the barrage and joined him. “Now what?” asked Mark.

“Fall back,” Robert told him. They backed up the corridor until they reached one of the rooms Robert had checked on the way. “Inside. Cover us.”

Hiding behind the doorframe, Mark continued to pull arrow after arrow from his quiver. Robert called for Mark, pointing to the window. His son loosed a few more arrows to buy them some time, then followed Robert as he ran at the window, using the shield to break the glass and then plummeting towards the ground.