Sherwood (27 page)

Harlow noticed that Enders
rested a hand on her back, pushing her down the stairs, his vision
getting better with the small amount of light.

They made it to the bottom
with no problem and, as Harlow had dreaded, the ballroom beyond the
secret staircase was empty.

Slowly, Harlow walked into
the colossal room, feeling apprehensive as she snaked against the
walls, Enders following behind to her.

She felt his shock as he
stared out over the dead bodies. Most had been Knights, yes, but
maybe six outlaws laid dead on the ballroom floor.

It was deserted and messy.
Plates and food littered the floor, along with the renegade dead
bodies.

Harlow reached behind her
and took Enders hand, pulling him toward the kitchen exit, and
following the wall as she walked. Enders followed close behind her
and squeezed her hand tightly.

The wall came to an end,
opening up into a large archway on the left side of the room. The
kitchen sat on the other end, a small curtain hang over the
entrance.

Harlow eyed the room,
suspiciously, pausing for a moment before propelling herself to the
other end of the room, and pulling Enders along with
her.

“
Let's go,”
Harlow breathed out, excited to see the exit she'd been dying to
get to.

She felt herself yanked
back and turned around by Enders hand before she could register
what was happening.

She saw before her King
Wesley, holding Enders by the arm, a sword at his throat. The King
bore his eyes into her, scanning her up and down, an eyebrow
raised. “A mere Castle-hand?” King Wesley sneered, his demeanor
cynical and angry. His frustration was obvious in his face. “Yet, I
don't recognize you.”

Harlow stared at the scene
before her in shock. No, she didn't expect this. She hadn't planned
for this. Intense panic rose from her heart and throughout her
body. She didn't have a weapon, yet the king held one to Enders'
neck.

“
Nothing to
say?” The king asked, his eyebrow still raised and a smile on the
edge of his lips. “What if I dig this blade into his throat? Then
what? Will you speak?”

Harlow paused for a moment
before trying to compose herself. Her anger started to boil up at
the mention of harming Enders. “I will speak regardless of your
actions.”

“
Who are
you?” The king demanded, anger seeping into his voice.

“
A
Castle-hand.” Harlow answered, her frustration still building
up.

King Wesley laughed
bitterly. “Don't lie to me,” He boomed, boring his eyes into hers.
“If you lie to me, he dies.” The king warned, pressing the blade an
inch more into Enders throat, making the king's robes swing gently
with the motion. “Who are you?”

Harlow smiled devilishly,
raising an eyebrow, and a smile chuckle on her lips. “I'm an
outlaw.”

The king laughed again
bitterly, an evil tone coming from his lips. “Didn't I say not to
lie to me? You expect me to believe that Robin Hood is recruiting
women now?”

Harlow smiled still, side
stepping gently to her left, where the middle of the ballroom sat.
She shook her head as she looked at him. “You don't exactly have to
believe it.”

“
The life of
this outlaw depends on your word. Don't you care?” The King asked,
maliciously, happiness and giddiness on the brim of his
voice.

Enders held a sad, hard
expression, refusing to let himself get sucked into this situation.
He would never give up, Harlow knew that, but he wasn't exactly
fighting at the moment.

“
I'm an
outlaw. I have no reason to care for anyone other than myself.”
Harlow shrugged at the King, taking another side step to the
right.

“
I don't
believe you.” King Wesley narrowed his eyes at her and sneered. His
gray hair was masked by his golden crown, and his maroon-colored
robes detracted from his malicious expression. She noticed that his
nostrils flared angrily, but he was trying to mask his anger with
some hidden charisma, but Harlow knew better than to fall for that.
He narrowed his eyes at Harlow devilishly, waiting for her a
reaction.

It was then that she
noticed her eyes in his own, the two sharing the same brown colored
eyes.

“
I don't
expect you to,” Harlow stated. “But,” she said, holding up a
finger, “who should ever trust an outlaw?”

He laughed, again seeming
bitter. “Aye, no one should believe an outlaw, but you are not an
outlaw.”

Harlow held
up one finger, a smirk on her lips. “Aye,” she mocked him. “I'm
not
simply
an outlaw.”

She side-stepped again,
finally making her way to the guests' feast table, she placed her
hands on the edge of the table, letting herself lean on the edge of
the wood. She picked up a renegade apple and took a bite.
“Delicious,” she commented, looking at the apple endearingly while
placing her other hand behind her, on top of a random carving knife
she'd noticed moments earlier.

“
You take
another step and I'll kill you.” The King warned, his voice filled
with annoyance. She couldn't tell if his nonchalance was sincere. A
cold stare pierced her eyes as she took another slow, cautious bite
into the apple.

Harlow placed the apple
back onto the table she leaned against, earning a disgusted look
from the king before her. King Wesley only moved his eyes, from her
to the apple to her once again. The rest of his body was stoic and
lifeless, Enders held firmly in his grasp. Harlow took a good look
at him, although returning his cold stare. He was older, but not
elderly. He was fit and slender with a semi-tall stature, towering
over her, but only inches taller than Enders. His brown eyes were a
color that Harlow knew matched her own and his wicked smile was one
that sickened her to her stomach, not because it was evil, but
because it resembled her face so well.

Quickly Harlow pushed
herself up. While doing so, she grabbed the carving knife from the
table and slipped it into the sleeve of her dress.

“
I'm done
playing games with you! Tell me who you are!” The king demanded,
his voice booming and echoing throughout the ballroom and sending
chills down Harlow's spine. She felt her heart start to beat
faster, and panic rise within her belly. Her palms became sweaty as
she wondered how she and Enders could get out of this
alive.

Then an idea came to her
mind. If she could pull it off, the man would be distracted, and
she could make a break for it with Enders.

Harlow tried
to keep her composure, plastering a grin onto her lips and sending
a message of victory. “My name is Harlow McBride,” She said, her
tone going from gleeful to serious as she proceeded with the plan.
“My father is Harrison McBride. My mother was your daughter,
the
Princess
of England, whom you
murdered.”

King Wesley's anger
weakened for only a moment.

Harlow took advantage of
this moment, dropping the sharp blade from her sleeve and flinging
it harshly at her grandfather's arm, just barely missing
Enders.

Quickly, Enders scattered away from
him, grabbing one of the many swords that littered the floor. He
held it up, looking at the man evenly and coldly.

“
Come on,
Enders,” Harlow said, moving backward toward the
kitchen.

Enders panted, taking a
step backward. He was brave, but that didn't stop him from being
scared.

Without any warning, King
Wesley sprung forward, seizing the swords blade with his bare hand,
and twisting it out of Enders palm. The blade glinted in the torch
light as the metal met flesh and the shimmer of metal mingled with
blood. King Wesley held onto the sword until he'd pried it from
Enders hands, blood dripping down form his hand and making a small
puddle on the floor. Pain didn't deter him from what he intended to
do.

The king turned the blade
and hit Enders in the stomach with the hilt of the sword, kicking
him once in the stomach, then turning to Harlow. He stared at her,
keeping the sword in his hand while he reached for the small
carving knife that protruded from his shoulder. He pulled it out of
his body with barely a flinch, keeping his eyes on Harlow the
entire time. Harlow watched as her grandfather dropped the blade,
letting it fall to the ground and echo throughout the
room.

Horror washed over her as
he stood over Enders, the sword hovering just over Enders
chest.

The glint of delight in
man's eyes as he looked down at Enders sickened Harlow to her very
core.

Enders scrambled back and
tried to stand up, slowly composing himself, as he found his way to
his feet. Harlow only knew he was scared because she knew him, but
if he'd been a stranger, she wouldn't be able to notice his
fear.

“
Kill
me.”

Harlow let her jaw drop as
she watched Enders come a step closer to the king. She was only
several feet back. Maybe she could rush forward and snatch the
sword away.

'
Maybe we could run?
Maybe we could get away?'
She
thought to herself, letting her mind run wild with ideas. She
couldn't focus much, but she knew that she was processing the words
late.

“
You'd like
that, wouldn't you?” The king sneered, an eyebrow raised. “To bad
you're still useful.”

Enders laughed bitterly.
“I'm better off dead.”

Harlow felt her heart ache
at the words. She took one small step forward, but found herself
stopping before she got close enough to do anything.

“
You, girl,”
King Wesley said to her, addressing her generically. “You move one
more muscle, and this man dies.”

Harlow, although her heart
ached and her throat dry, managed to get out a small squeak in
response.

“
Do you want
to be responsible for his death?” King Wesley asked, finally taking
one long glance at her before putting his attention back on
Enders.

Harlow wanted to look
around the room but decided not to, afraid that his threat was
serious.

“
Do it.”
Enders said, standing tall in place. He lifted his head and looked
directly into the royalty's eyes. “Kill me.”

King Wesley's lips twitch,
wanting to broaden into a smile but refusing to give into the
impulse. “Why should I?”

Enders narrowed his eyes
evenly with the man before him. “I'm the son of the man who
single-handedly killed thousands of your soldiers. I'm the son of a
thief and a liar, an ex-nobleman and an outlaw. My father could
bring down your throne. Now, imagine if I aid him in that
conquest.” Enders chuckled, disgust and disdain in his voice. He
took a step closer to King Wesley. “I'm valuable only to the
Outlaws. kill me then and let her go.” Enders nodded backward to
where Harlow stood.

“
Why should
I?” The king's lips twitched to smile and his eyebrow raised. “She
doesn't seem very useful. It would be a bad strategic decision to
let her go.”

“
Ah, yes.
Strategy is important.” Enders said, a sad smirk on his lips. “I'm
sure you knew that before, king. I'm sure you know many things,”
Enders held his smirk and kept his eyes on the king, “except where
Robin Hood dwells.”

The king's expression
stilled in a cold glare.

“
Not
surprising,” Enders shrugged, “for such an incapable
king.”

The king's expression grew
angry. His eyes flashed irritation and belligerence. He tightened
his grip on his sword and took a step and a half forward until he
stared into Enders eyes. “On your knees,” The king demanded, the
sword still hovering over Enders heart.

Enders exhaled. “No. If you
kill me, I will die with my pride.”

“
Outlaws have
no pride!” The king shouted, his anger echoing off the walls and
resonating throughout the ballroom.

“
I do,”
Enders argued, holding his defiant gaze, and keeping his voice calm
and even.

The king sneered, disgusted
with Enders. “Then you will die for your pride.”

Harlow watched as Enders
closed his eyes, accepting and expecting his own demise. King
Wesley brought back the sword in his hand and was just about to
propel it forward, into the Ender's heart.

Harlow wanted to rush
forward but found herself frozen.

Bang! Crack!
Doomsh!

Harlow felt herself rush
back to reality as the strange sounds broke out. She lunged
forward, taking Enders hand and pulling him a step backward, a
giant piece of stone cascading over King Wesley's head and falling
to the floor before the two outlaws.

The king stood still, sword
held in the air hovering for a moment. His old, dark eyes blinked
once before his knees buckled underneath him, and without warning,
he fell to the ground, limp and collapsed.

Enders stood in shock
beside Harlow, staring at the man's pathetic body, laying on the
ballroom floor for only a moment. They both looked up, turning
their attention to a woman who stood before them.