The Two Torcs (12 page)

“I’ll have my chance,” he said, and in four long strides he reached the rail of the ship.

He began chanting.

Then he stepped up, and stepped off.

* * *

Back on the shore, Tuck spun one way, then another, wishing he still had hold of his weapon. As it was, all he could do was shout out warnings to the others. His terror was practically choking him, and he struggled to keep his voice strong and not let the fear close up his throat, as it was threatening to do.

Turn around.

He listened to the voice in his head and twisted just in time to see a humpbacked man rushing toward Robin. There was a flask in his outstretched hand, which he cocked back as if making ready to throw the contents.

“No!” Tuck bellowed and threw himself between the two men just as the liquid in the flask was released. It hit him squarely in the face and he screamed as he expected to feel hot oil or burning acid removing his skin.

It took him a moment to realize that he felt nothing but wet. He blinked open his eyes and stared at the man who was, in turn, staring at him, eyes wide in a kind of fascinated wonder. Suddenly blood bubbled out from the man’s lips. Tuck looked down and saw a sword protruding from his chest. He tumbled to the ground and Marian pulled her sword free.

“Are you safe?” she shouted.

He could barely hear her over the din, but managed to nod.

“What was that?”

Poison.

The thought came, horrific and sudden. He tried to swallow down his panic. There was no reason to frighten her. Not yet.

“Nothing, I suppose,” he managed to shout back.

It
had
to be poison. Why would the man have thrown something harmless? It made no sense.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. If only the man wasn’t dead, maybe they could have forced him to reveal the truth. As it was, the flask was smashed on the ground, and there was no way to tell what it once had held.

“Get out of here!”

He turned. Robin was shouting to him—to all of them. He wanted them to leave. Were they losing? Were the others dead? He looked around, trying to pick out other cloaked figures among the smoke and flame, but he couldn’t.

Dead, all dead
, he thought.

Then he saw someone mounting a horse. He got a good look at the boots. Fancy. They had to belong to Will. What was Will doing mounting a horse? Maybe he should, too, if he could get one to stand still long enough for him to try and haul his girth onto it.

Alan was there, pulling a horse forward, his cloak over its eyes to keep it from shying away from the flames that were engulfing the ship.

Something in Tuck’s chest broke and relief flooded him at the sight of the slender bard. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been worried for him.

“Get on,” Alan said.

“No, you take the horse. I’ll…”

Alan pushed him. “I can run faster and farther than you, and I know the forest. Get your fat arse up on this horse and give the horse its head. It will get you to safety.”

Tuck quit arguing, grabbed the saddle, and began pulling himself up.

Marian’s mind raced frantically as she kicked her horse faster and faster away from the scene of the ambush. Images of burning men filled her mind, and she prayed that none of them was Robin.

The others would be regrouping at the monastery no doubt—except for Will who might make his way straight to the castle in an effort to avoid suspicion. He would look for her there, and worry when he didn’t find her.

She couldn’t think about that right now, though. They needed Richard to return. Only he could help set things right, and it was time to stop sending emissaries, most of whom couldn’t even grasp the full extent of the danger that they were in. It was becoming more and more of a struggle to leave the castle unseen, and this might well be her last chance, her one hope to get word to the king.

Even if it meant going herself and leaving behind those she cared for. She tried not to think about what might happen to Chastity in her absence. The truth was, if they didn’t stop John and the Sheriff, they were all as good as dead anyway. She had to have faith in her friends, too. Chastity was clever. She was a survivor, and Marian had to believe she could outwit the others, and either find a way to hide in the castle or to escape, if it came to that.

She rode through Sherwood. The forest had ceased to hold any terrors for her. It was far safer than the open road. The messengers she’d sent had been too afraid of the forest to use it for passage to the northern harbor. She was not. Whatever had befallen them on the road—whatever the creature was that had attacked her—she hoped it would not be watching.

Her shoulder burned like fire, but she could not stop and inspect her wound. There would be time enough for that once she was aboard the
Kestrel
. Beneath her she could feel her horse trembling in fear. Whether it was from the fight or from the forest she did not know. She put her hand on the animal’s neck and tried to whisper soothing words to it. At the same time she was wary, knowing that the horse could easily be sensing a danger that she couldn’t.

After a minute the animal seemed to relax, but Marian remained alert. The closer she got to the harbor, the more she worried that someone or something would try to stop her. She could not afford to be caught, not now. There would be no explanation for her appearance, or the fact that she was there.

She considered abandoning the cloak in the forest, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She might still have need of it. Besides, if more than one of them was found, then their enemies would have proof that more than one person was masquerading as the Hood.

That is, if the rest weren’t already dead.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, urging herself to focus. She couldn’t help any of them at that moment, but she could save whoever was left… if she could just make it to the king.

* * *

When she was within minutes of the harbor her heart began to pound even harder, and she wanted to kick her horse into a full run. Inside her mind, though, a small voice whispered vigilence. This might be the most dangerous part of her journey and she couldn’t afford for it to end in failure simply because she abandoned caution.

She slowed her horse to a walk and forced herself to listen as hard as she could. The edge of the forest came close to the harbor, but she would still have a lot of open ground to cover once she exited the safety of the trees.

Something brushed her hair and she jerked, startling her mount. She twisted in her saddle and forced a sigh when she realized it was just a branch. A couple more steps and she saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned just as another limb seemed to suddenly stretch out beside her, and catch at her cloak.

Marian blinked rapidly. She was seeing things. That had to be it. She was overly agitated by everything that was happening.

Yet she could have sworn the branch actually had moved.

Another one caught her hair, and then another. A root seemed to thrust suddenly upward from the ground and her horse tripped, nearly falling. The beast whinnied in fear and Marian lacked the words to calm him. Around her the forest began whispering, and she felt chilled to the bottom of her soul.

It doesn’t want me to leave
, she realized at last.
But why?
Why were the trees suddenly acting alive, and trying to keep her from her destination?

All the old stories came flooding back to her, about the forest and its fey. Was it trying to do her mischief? If so, why wait until now? Or was it something else?

A warning, perhaps.

Her heart pounded painfully hard in her chest, and her horse began to lift its feet higher, eyeing the ground with clear suspicion.

“Please,” Marian heard herself whispering. “Please, I have to make it to the harbor. The lives of so many depend on it.”

No.

She blinked, stunned. She had heard the word whispered on the wind, as clear as any word ever spoken by man.

“I must.”

Can’t.

“I
will
.”

No answer this time. All around her the trees started shuddering, as if shaken by a fierce wind, although there was none upon her skin. Then it was as if they shrunk back from her slightly. She could see light, the edge of the forest. Ten more strides and her horse stepped free of the trees, coming onto a small rise that overlooked the end of the harbor.

Marian looked down.

The entire dock was on fire.

* * *

They were all of them dead men. Will kicked his horse harder, streaking through the forest. At a signal from Robin they had scattered. He could hear guards chasing behind him, practically feel the breath of their horses upon his neck. Scatter and regroup, that was the plan.

This had been a trap, and Will knew he needed to get back to the castle as soon as he could, before someone realized he hadn’t been there when this debacle took place. Marian had taken off seconds before him, though in a different direction. He didn’t have time to go chasing after her, though. She was smart, and a better rider than most men. She could make her way back to the castle. Hopefully at least one of them would make it. If they were together the odds increased that they would be caught.

He heard a whistling sound and ducked just as a sword cut through the air where his head had been a moment before. He cursed and kicked his beast harder. He didn’t know how many men had followed him. Outrunning them, then, was his best chance at survival.

In his right hand he gripped his horse’s reins and in his left he held a sword. The hood of the cloak kept falling farther down, blinding him, and he kept shoving it back up, trying not to jerk his horse’s head as he did so, and wishing he dared remove the hood completely.

He heard a sudden sound to his left, swung with his sword, and connected with something that let out a shrill scream.

Something hit the ground and his horse leaped sideways to avoid it. With his stomach twisting in agony he prayed that he had killed one of John’s soldiers, and not one of his own comrades.

There was a sudden shrieking sound on his right and he barely managed to switch hands as he ducked beneath an arcing sword that seemed to burn the air where he had been. He thrust with his blade, felt it connect, and kicked his horse faster. He had to find a way to lose them quickly, so he could get back to the castle unobserved.

* * *

Marian felt as if she was going to be sick as she forced her horse down the hill to the harbor. The
Kestrel
, Richard’s fastest ship—the one she had meant to board to go and bring him back—was in flames. Her crew were dead, lying on the docks. One man, the captain by the look of him, lay with his stomach split open and guts piled on the ground beside him. His eyes were frozen in a look of horror.

Two other ships, trade ships by the looks of them, were each sinking slowly below the water, scuttled.

Whoever had done this could still be close by. She felt a prickling along the base of her skull and she turned, then kicked her horse back toward the safety of the woods.

The forest had tried to warn her.

Somehow it had known.

Marian’s stomach twisted into knots as the full impact of what she’d seen hit home. These were the only ships left behind when Richard set sail on the crusade. With the ships destroyed, there was no escape. There was no way to get word to Richard.

They were trapped, and no help would be coming.

Will managed to leave his horse at the stables without being seen. No one knew he had taken the beast out that morning, so he should be safe in that regard.

He made his way quickly to the kitchen, heart still in his throat. He had no idea if he’d lost the last of his pursuers, but he’d managed a few seconds to bury his cloak at the edge of the woods just in case.

Once inside the kitchen he was relieved to see the woman in charge, Jansa, who according to Marian was friendly to their cause. Fortunately, given the time of day, she was alone in the kitchen when he put in his appearance. He was out of breath and disheveled, and when she saw him she looked clearly taken aback.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I hope so,” he said, grabbing a bottle of wine and taking a seat. “Have you seen the Lady Marian today?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Damn,” Will muttered under his breath. He quickly uncorked the bottle and took a long swig, then splashed a little on his clothes.

“You are a friend to my lady, yes?”

The woman’s lips tightened. “Yes,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“We are both dearly in need of friends at the moment. Friends who understand discretion,” he said, taking another long swallow.

“That’s potent stuff you’re drinking,” she warned.

“I’m counting on it. Why don’t you have a seat and join me, and we can pretend we’ve been swapping stories for hours.”

“Why I never…” she said, and she bristled.

“My life might well depend on it,” he said, lowering his voice. “Milady and I would be ever so grateful.”

He was taking a huge risk, trusting in the woman and her ability to keep her mouth shut. He had no other choice, though. Either he was going to be under suspicion, or he wasn’t. If he wasn’t, then nothing would ever come of this. If he was, then he needed an alibi, and if Marian wasn’t back at the castle yet, it certainly couldn’t be her. After a moment standing there, frowning, Jansa pulled up a stool and picked up a glass, which Will filled. She brought it to her lips, but he noticed that she barely sipped it.

“Now, did I tell you about the time that I won a bet with old Lord Raleigh about who could hold his liquor better?” Will said, louder than would be considered normal. He slurred his words slightly.

“No, you didn’t,” Jansa said.

“I bet him fifteen gold coins that I could stand upright longer than he could when drinking.”

“That’s a large sum to wager,” she observed.

“It was an incredibly large sum to wager, given that at that particular moment I didn’t even have
one
gold coin on me,” Will said, letting his voice swell with pride.