The Two Torcs (30 page)

Ancient demonic designs were inscribed on his arms and his chest, spilling under raw skin across slabs of muscle. Antlers grew from his head, tangled and gnarled like a bramble of wicked bone, and his feet were black cloven hooves. His eyes glowed the crimson of spilled blood. A horsehide cloak and loincloth were his only coverings. He threw back his head and laughed and out of his mouth spilled perversions and filth.

The Sheriff began to smile.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Guy of Gisbourne.”

“What have you called me to do?” the voice that rumbled forth seemed to make the very air and the earth tremble.

“Go into the forest. Destroy the followers of the Hood, particularly whoever is leading them now, and capture the Lady Marian.

“Bring her to me.”

It was not quite morning when Marian woke, still exhausted. She lay still for a moment, trying to tell what woke her. A small nose nuzzled her hand, and she lifted it to pet Champion, who was squirming a lot more than he usually did in the morning.

That must have been what awakened her. She would have to tell Chastity that Robin and she were going to take the little fox with them. Then she remembered that Chastity wasn’t there. Tears filled her eyes as she thought about her friend. She didn’t even know if she was alive, and if so, what horrors were befalling her.

She bit down hard on her fist to keep from screaming in rage and pain. It took a few more minutes for her to regain control. Once she had changed into the men’s clothes she used for riding, she finally left the area of the tent and walked slowly to the main campsite. Champion bounded up and down next to her, clearly enjoying the feel of the earth on his paws. She still held trepidations about taking him with them, but she trusted Robin’s instincts.

All the men appeared to be asleep except for Little John, who was sitting apart from the rest. When he saw her he looked a little startled at first, and was clearly unsettled to see her in trousers, but quickly dropped into an awkward bow.

“Good morning,” she said. “Is anyone else awake?”

“Only… his lordship,” he said, voice twisting slightly as though “lordship” wasn’t the word he’d initially intended to use.

“He’s not a lord anymore,” Marian said softly. “Actually, I don’t know if you heard, but as of yesterday there isn’t a Lord Locksley anymore, either. The Sheriff killed him. Since he had no heirs, John will probably snatch up both Locksley and Longstride lands.”

Little John’s face twisted. “My wife and children are still living on Longstride land.”

Marian could feel the pain radiating off of him.

“If we can defeat John and the Sheriff, then they’ll be safe. Everyone will. If not, no one will be safe.” She paused, and then added, “I promise you that we will do our best to protect them. Everything that is happening is splitting families apart. I miss my uncle and fear for his safety. You do the same for your wife and children. Robin has lost all his siblings, his father is away and might be dead already, and his mother consorts with the enemy.”

Little John’s eyes widened at that.

“Lady Longstride?” he asked.

“Yes, she is in league with the Sheriff.”

Little John cursed then looked at her sheepishly.

“Beg pardon, milady,” he said.

“You said Robin was awake,” she said, giving him a little smile. “Where is he?”

“Where is he always?” Little John said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “In the forest.”

“Thank you.”

Marian moved to the edge of the clearing and stood just inside the tree line, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness beyond. Even before they could, she sensed a presence nearby.

“Robin?” she asked.

“Yes. Are you ready?”

“No, but it’s time to go.”

“Have you eaten?”

She shook her head, then remembered he might not be able to see the gesture in the dark.

“I have some meat and cheese when you are ready.”

Apparently he could see in the dark even if she couldn’t.

“I need to retrieve the book from Friar Tuck.”

“I already got it this morning,” he said.

“I didn’t realize the friar was awake yet.”

“He wasn’t, but there are only so many places he could hide something.”

Marian’s eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness, and she could make out Robin’s face.

“Very well,” she said. “Let’s go then.”

He reached out and took her hand in his. Together they began to walk deeper into the woods. She had to trust him to guide her, because she couldn’t see the ground. Occasionally Champion bumped against her ankle, so she knew he was staying with them.

“Dawn is coming,” Robin said after a while.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I can feel it.”

A few minutes later she saw that the darkness was growing lighter. Soon she could make out Champion, bounding and jumping and running beside them. She could see the ground at her feet, and had no more need of Robin’s hand to guide her. She did not let go, though.

As the light penetrated the forest, the sounds around them changed. The nocturnal birds went quiet as others came awake with rapturous song. More creatures began to stir as well.

They came upon a small, ice-lined spring where a family of deer were slaking their morning thirst. With them was a curious-looking creature with fine silver down on its body, and a long flowing mane of hair. It turned as if sensing her stare and she gasped. Its features were far more human than animal. Its eyes quickened with thought, and it dove beneath the surface of the water.

“What was that?” she asked Robin.

“That was one of the fey,” he said. “They guard the forest and its secrets. The closer we get to the heart of Sherwood, the more we are likely to encounter them. Some are hostile, others less so.”

“When I was little, Uncle Richard would tell me stories about them, but I never truly knew if they existed,” she said, wondering now if the king had known all along about these creatures.

“It does not take long for truth to pass into myth,” Robin said. “Not that many years ago, everyone knew the fey were real. Now some believe, while others think they are ghosts or devils of some sort. Others choose not to believe at all.”

Marian couldn’t help but wonder what time would do to the truth of their war against the darkness.

* * *

When they had journeyed nearly half a day, they stopped and ate some of the food Robin had brought with them. Champion gobbled down the bit of meat Marian gave him, then settled down on the tops of her feet for a nap.

Robin produced the book from the bag that he was carrying. He handed it to her and she opened it.

“From what I’ve been able to glean from the instructions here,” she said, “it seems that we must overcome challenges by three different guardians, in order to reach the heart of Sherwood.

“According to Cardinal Francis,” she continued, “the heart of Sherwood is actually a tree, the Oak of Thynghowe. The book refers to it as an ancient guardian at the center of the forest.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” he said. “How we’re supposed to know it from all the others I guess we’ll have to wait and find out.”

“The first guardian is of the body,” Marian said. “I gather that the challenge is a physical one of some sort.”

Robin frowned. “In order to take the black arrow, I had to best the creature that was guarding it. That challenge was a physical one, but there was also a component of strategy. I had to be willing to use the arrow, and it had to pierce my skin, then choose to spare me instead of killing me.”

“So, with each of these challenges we must keep our wits about us, and see what is beyond the obvious.”

“Yes.”

“The second guardian is of the mind and the third is of the soul. Not that I’m sure knowing that helps us at all. How much longer do you think it will take us to find the first guardian?” Marian asked.

“I’m not sure, but this is the farthest I’ve ever been in this direction. With our next steps the forest will be new to me as well,” he warned.

A few minutes later Marian woke Champion from his nap, and the three of them continued on, Robin in the lead and Marian a few steps behind, with the fox keeping mostly between them.

What had to have been a couple more hours passed and worry began to settle into the creases of Marian’s mind. It was as though she could physically feel the sands of an hourglass running out as time slipped away from them.

She found herself praying that they would locate the first guardian soon. It was growing even colder as the afternoon was waning, and even though she was moving, the chill was making everything ache—particularly her nose and her fingers.

She could only imagine what they would do when night fell. Robin might be able to see at night in the woods, but she certainly couldn’t, and she was already growing weary. She was starting to trip over roots in her path, and feared that they might have to stop for the night without having made any progress.

One more day until all is lost.

Then, suddenly, up ahead of them, directly in their path, Marian noticed two particularly tall, thin trees that grew exceptionally straight. They appeared to be birches, with smooth white bark, and looked like perfect twins. They stood with three feet between them. There was something about them that struck her as peculiar, and she slowed, touching Robin’s shoulder and indicating that he should do the same.

Indeed, they were exact twins, mirror images of each other with leafless branches alike in number and placement. She knew that in the world identical people might be born, but she’d never seen trees such as these. They were such an odd sight that they took her mind off the cold and the pain in her fingers and the aching in her joints.

Robin stepped ahead, moving closer to them, then swerved to pass to the left of the trees, instead of walking straight between them.

“Robin!”

He stopped and turned to look at her.

“You’ve been marching us straight as an arrow all day,” she said. “Why are you angling around those trees, rather than passing between them?” she asked.

He blinked at her. “I don’t know,” he said, frowning. “I just… don’t feel like walking between them. For some reason it feels wrong.”

“Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

“I suppose so,” he replied, still frowning.

“
Can
you walk between them?” she asked.

He looked as if he was about to take a step forward. His weight shifted, his muscles flexed, but he didn’t move.

“I don’t want to,” he admitted.

Marian could feel excitement growing within her. “There must be magic at play, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know.”

She walked forward, catching up to him. As she stepped close to the two trees she felt a sudden aversion to them, a wave of deep dislike. Her eyes slid off them as though she didn’t want to even look at them. Something inside her urged her to go around.

She moved toward the side of the one tree then stopped and forced herself to reach out and put a hand on it. It took all of her determination, as though she were actually fighting the muscles in her own arm to make it happen. At last her fingertips touched bark, and she yanked her hand back with a cry.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s… hot to the touch. It nearly burnt me. I definitely think magic is at play here,” Marian said. “There’s nothing else it could be. Something doesn’t want us to walk between them.”

She felt a glimmer of hope again. Maybe this was the first challenge. From what Robin had said, she had expected to find a fey standing guard. There was nothing that said it had to work that way, though.

“Which leaves us no alternative,” Robin said with certainty. “It’s exactly what we need to do.”

Marian tried to lift her foot, to force it in the direction of the opening between the two trunks, but she couldn’t. It was as if her foot had grown roots and was anchored into the ground.

“I can’t do it,” she gasped at last.

“Nor can I,” Robin said, the strain clear in his voice.

“I don’t have the strength,” she added, and she blinked as she heard the words she’d spoken.

Strength.

“Robin, this is the first test,” she said with a gasp.

And we’re failing it
, she told herself.

A failure. You are a failure.

The words had been rattling around in Friar Tuck’s mind for hours.

The last man of God, and you are worthless.

When the voice of the evil one came to him, it was sometimes disguised as his own. Other times it had a silken, oily quality to it by which he could tell its true origin. Never before, though, had the voice been that of someone he knew.
You let everyone die. You have disappointed God.

It was the voice of Cardinal Francis.

Hot tears burned in his eyes. It was hard to denounce a demon when you agreed with it.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, spinning around to see Alan standing there, eyes wide with concern. The elixir had healed his wounds but it didn’t have the power to give him back that which had been taken. The bard would never again speak words of wisdom and counsel, never sing and move men to acts of courage.

“I’m so sorry,” Tuck whispered before he could stop himself. “It’s all my fault. I should never have involved you in all this.”

Alan shook his head fiercely. He turned and gestured to the rest of the camp. Then he turned back and touched, first Tuck’s heart, then his lips.

“You want me to speak to them?” Tuck asked, gazing out over the survivors. He didn’t need to see their faces to feel their fear, their pain. It was evident in their hunched shoulders, their downcast eyes, and the silence with which they were going about their daily rituals.

“I can’t speak to them,” Tuck said. How could he give them hope, when he held onto none himself?

Alan tapped him again in the chest, harder this time, and nodded, adding an intense glare that seemed to lay bare Tuck’s soul.

“He’s right,” a voice said softly. “It’s you they need to hear from.”