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“Rob, ” I called.
“Yeah?” he whispered.
“Twenty-six. ”
He nodded. “One must be downstairs. ”
“He’ll have company. ”
“I can handle it. Get these people into the tunnel and I’ll meet you; we’re running out of time. ”
I nodded, racing up to the front.
“Follow me as close as you can!” I told them, going up the steps and peeking out. Nobles were fl ooding out of the residences now, giving us some small bit of cover for the next part, true, but every pair of eyes that were looking the other way could just as quick look at us and raise the alarm.
“
Run,
” I ordered, and I shot up, going to the door and pushing people into it. The fi re sent smoke pluming in the air, and everyone in the courtyard were watching it. Thirteen people had rushed past when I saw Ravenna. She came out of the residences ’cross the courtyard, the sheriff a step behind. She looked at the people and spun sharp away, taking the sheriff ’s arm and leading him toward the arrow slots in the wall. When they moved I saw Gisbourne there, standing by the wall, looking out.
Sixteen went, then eigh teen, then twenty, then Gisbourne turned. He saw me, and his chin lowered and his eyes turned evil and hateful.
“Run!” I shrieked, lacing knives through my fi ngers like cord till steel pointed out between every knuckle. He yelled for the 212-47765_ch01_1P.indd 245
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guards. The rest of the townspeople fl ew up out of the prison, and I hid them, standing in front of them and blocking the way to the tunnel as guards began to charge me.
I began spitting knives, going for killing blows. There were too many people here, too many that could turn on me and start to fi ght against me. I needed more time, and I needed Robin.
“That one is mine!” Gisbourne roared, jogging up and drawing his sword, a huge Claymore with a black hilt. He crashed the fi rst arc down and I twisted away, throwing two knives into the necks of two guards as they headed for the tunnel door. Gisbourne grunted and lunged forward, but I stepped close and managed to stab his sword arm. I ducked away but he grabbed my hood, ripping backward.
He had the coil of my hair inside my hood, and he chuckled, jerking me backward till I fell.
“Got you, ” he laughed.
My blood fair boiled as he tugged again, dragging me. “You think I give a damn about my hair?” I spat. I twisted quick, ducking my head and slicing off the hood and my hair with it so I could wriggle away and jump up to stand against him. “And you never had me, not for a second. ”
With that I fl icked a knife at him that landed in the soft outer bit of his shoulder. He dropped his sword like deadweight, falling onto a knee with the heft of it. An arm grabbed me round the waist and I stepped on the guard’s foot, then slammed my elbow to his face, knocking him out. At least that were one I didn’t have to kill. Another 212-47765_ch01_1P.indd 246
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guard were opening the door to the tunnel, and I vaulted past Gisbourne. Clutching my last two knives, I fl ipped till I stood on my closed fi sts, the knives sticking out like wagon wheel spokes, and came up in time to spin my sharpest into his neck. He fell just short of the door, and twin threads of horror and victory spun through me at the sight.
Rob crested the stairs with a man covered in blood, bare walking on his own, leaning heavy on Rob. Gisbourne jumped to his feet, a black thrill in his eyes as he moved toward Robin. For a full breath I were frozen, staring. Gisbourne fi xed on Rob, but Rob never so much as raised his eyes to Gisbourne. Rob were only concerned for getting the man safe.
Rob were a hero, through and through.
And I
were none. But then, disreputable, angry, once-noblewomen had their place too, and whether Rob wanted it or not, I would always stand between him and Gisbourne. A thief could die to let the hero live.
It took me three steps, pushing off the dusty ground fast as I could, to get to Gisbourne. He were raising his sword at Rob, a twisted smile on his face, as Rob tried to pull the man away and weren’t fast enough. With a banshee scream I dove forward, darting at Gisbourne and tackling him round the waist, heaving him away from Rob. Gisbourne’s sword came clumsy down over my shoulder, and I shrieked as the blade split my skin in two, biting deep.
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out my eyes. “That’s all I want, you little tramp, ” he spat, spat in true, all over my face. “I want to see you die. I want to see the light tamp out of those dev il’s eyes. You humiliated me and taunted me for all these years, and now I want to feel it as you die. ”
I scrambled for breath, scratching at his face and twisting my legs ’bout. I punched his face but he just laughed, like he were possessed by some demon. I pressed my thumbs into his eyeballs and he swatted me away like a bug.
Fireworks were going off inside my own eyeballs, zigging strips of lightning that dazzled. I could feel my body fl ipping around without my say-so, panicking for air.
“Get the hell off her!” Rob yelled, and I saw his sword appear at Gisbourne’s neck, ready to stroke through his throat. Gisbourne let me go and rolled away to block. Robin charged him. Between the smoke in the air and the lightning in my eyes, he looked like some angel, all holy fury and righ teous fi re. Their swords hit and sliced through the smoke, Robin battling him back fast. “Get to the tunnel, Scar!” he roared. “A guard made it in, I don’t know how far!”
I were still sputtering for breath, and a guard came at me, but I kicked him in the chest and sliced his face, sending him to the ground. “I won’t go without you!” I snapped.
“How sweet, ” Gisbourne said, hacking at Rob. “So you’re the little drab’s new lover? Don’t believe her if she says she’ll marry you, ” he taunted, lunging at Rob again.
“Get the guard or the people are
dead
, Scar! I’m behind you!”
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“Guards, don’t let her get away!” Gisbourne called. I fought off another guard, hesitating. “Rob, come now!”
Gisbourne backed him up against the wall, and Rob hacked him to the side.
“He’s a little busy, Marian!” Gisbourne said. He had blood on his face and it made his smile look like it were slashed with demon blood, wicked and mad.
“Robin!” I shrieked, letting the guards push me back.
“Dammit, Scar, get that guard now!” Rob ordered. Every bit of me screamed, but I dispatched two more guards and made for the tunnel. I slammed the door behind me and started running, listening for the sound of the door opening again or for the heavy chain-mail steps of a guard ahead of me. It were pitch-black, but I listened, hearing the people’s voices far ahead, and a labored breath close by.
“Robin?” someone asked.
I touched a body, and it were wet with blood. “You’re hurt, ”
I said. “Where is he? Did he get far ahead?”
“Who?” he asked.
“The guard!”
He heaved out a breath. “I was hurt in the prison, ” he said.
“Where’s Robin?”
It were the man Rob brought out. I turned back, realizing what he’d done as my belly pushed up into my pipes and the world went off - kilter round my ears. I could hear guards now, entering the tunnel.
Rob had sent me running off without him, knowing he 212-47765_ch01_1P.indd 249
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wouldn’t be behind. Knowing Gisbourne would kill him. He’d lied ’bout the guard, knowing it were the only way I’d leave him. And he’d done it to save my life.
I dropped to a knee. My muscles couldn’t hold me none, and my eyes went wet. My head felt fair twisted, because half my heart squeezed with fear for him, with awful guilt, for his life were worth thousands of mine. Then, worse, the other half of my heart fl ew with the thought that maybe he trusted me after all. Maybe things weren’t as broken as I thought. It were a terrible thought, for Rob might have been dying for me just then.
My mouth twisted to a frown. That damn hero needed a few lumps to the head if he thought I were just going to let him do it.
The heavy sound of chain mail rattled through the tunnel.
“Come on, ” I told the injured man, struggling to my legs like a new foal and pulling his arm ’cross my shoulders. “We have to run now so I can get back to Robin. ”
He hobbled and I ran, seeing bleak moonlight at the end of the tunnel, hearing the heavy steps come closer. John stood at the end of the tunnel, and he took the man from me. I turned to go back and he grabbed me. “Scar, can’t you hear them? The guards are coming!”
“Rob’s back there!” I wailed, fi ghting him. “Rob’s back there— I have to help!”
“You can’t take on the army yourself!”
“Get your damn hands off me!” I shrieked. “I have to help Robin!”
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John didn’t let me go, climbing down and cutting the rope with me fi ghting him tooth and nail. Every inch farther he forced me sank and broke my heart. We were almost to the bottom when the guards appeared, watching us and the injured man climb down to Much and the rest of the villagers. John pulled me into the cover of the trees. “Christ, Scar, you’re bleeding everywhere. ”
I couldn’t feel it. I felt sick and numb, my heart racing and slamming without any emotion behind it. I felt tears— or maybe blood— on my face and I ground my palms into my eyes.
“Scar?” Much said.
I ignored him.
“Scar, I doubt the sheriff will kill him. He’ll want someone to hang, and the Hood is a pretty damn good catch. Come on. We’ll fi x you up and come back; no one’s leaving Rob to die. ”
The only thing I could hear were running water. Running water and my heartbeat, beating my insides up. Wait—
running water.
I looked up, searching the rocky cliff . There it were, tucked far to the side, not so much a tunnel as a spout, a river of water draining out from the castle. From the
prison.
“Scar!” John yelled.
Before anyone could stop me, I scaled the rocks and slid into the spout. Water splashed down my front and I yelped, but I fi t. I fi t, and no one else would. I pushed forward against the water, crawling deep into Castle Rock.
He damn well better be alive.
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k
The tunnel ran at a sharp incline and I had to claw my way up, freezing water running over the worn rocks. It ran over me, too, like it didn’t know that I weren’t no rock, quick and cold through my wound so I didn’t feel it none. I weren’t sure if it were still bleeding or if it would kill me, but I didn’t much care. My feet slipped now and again, sending me sprawling against the rock or, worse, sliding back down till I caught my feet again. My shoulders burned and trembled and shook, but the longer it went on, the less I noticed it. It didn’t matter none. I were going onward and upward till I couldn’t fi t no more or till I found Rob.
After a long while the tunnel started getting tighter, scraping my sides round. The water didn’t have nowhere to go, so it ran over my front and back and shoulders and face and thighs. I spat it out of my mouth, trying not to think of the blood and ash and sweat and waste that were in it.
A rock tore at my shoulder and I stopped for a moment. I pushed my head to the side, tears welling up about the stupid fi x I were in. He were more than like dead, and I would die in this tunnel, and then the sheriff would burn the whole shire trying to get a drop of tax out of the people. I stayed there too long, leaning into the rock, the water over me, pulling tiny little pieces of me down the tunnel and away. There were no light in there, no day, only the sound of the water, never stopping.
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I may as well have been dead already. If there were a Hell, this were it, hung in limbo between the living and the dead.
“Gisbourne says we can muck you up a bit, as long as you’re alive to hang, ” I heard. My head twisted; it were the torture master. Were I closer than I thought?
“You can kill me all you like. Have at it. ”
My blood lit up like a torch. It were Rob. Rob, sounding cavalier and confi dent and, more than anything, very much alive. I scrabbled along the rock. The water didn’t matter no more, nor did my fl esh or the rock against it. I saw a thread of light twisting through the water, and I went for it like a hound. I didn’t hear any cries, any whip cracks or none, which didn’t sit well. The tunnel opened up a bit beneath the prison, and I pushed above the water, hugging to the side to avoid a thick trail of blood sliming down. I could see fi relight and the shadow of the torturer.
“A little more?” he grunted.
I heard Rob heave a breath and spit, and I dodged to avoid that as well. I gripped the grating, trying to move it. It were welded and strapped into the stone with heavy iron spikes. There were a deep groan, and a few moments later there were more blood drooling down. Stupid, helpless tears burned at my eyes. It were Rob’s blood. Rob were bleeding a fair lot. I took out my knife and started stabbing at the rock around the iron pins.
“I’ll let that set till morning, and we’ll see what you can take then. ”
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hard. With no one to hear, Rob’s groans got heavier and more labored.
“Christ, Rob, I’m coming, ” I called to him. The knife were slipping off the rock, not fi nding any space or purchase.
“God, haven’t I been tortured enough?” he moaned. I stopped, pain sinking into my belly. “Rob . . . , ” I tried.
“Don’t turn my own heart against me, please, ” he said. It sounded pitiful. I heard something shuffl
e and then a rattle of
metal and heavy chains.
“Rob?” I wailed.
No answer came.
“Rob!” I shrieked. “Rob, answer me! Rob, I’m so sorry, please! Please!” Tears started, fi erce and hot from my eyes. I slammed my knife at the grate, cutting my hand. “Rob, please, I’m sorry I got you into all of this. I’m sorry I brought Gisbourne down on you. Please, just be alive. ”
No answer came. My knife snapped, and so did my will. I stayed, calling his name till my pipes gave out. When I couldn’t yell anymore, I dropped my knife and let the water carry me down.
What had taken so long to mount took nothing to go down, and I were dumped off the ledge and into the main fall of the river. I let it carry me down, away, rinsing me clean and sending me back to Sherwood and the lads.
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