PART FIVE
Chapter Four
For once, Sherwood seemed to be a rather mysterious and frightening place to Robin, as he and Tuck passed through the forest in the moonlight. Perhaps he felt this way because it was late and he was tired. Maybe all of the events of the evening had had more of an affect on him than he had first realized.
He thought he saw objects that weren't really there, as trees took the form of monstrous figures and shadows clawed with menace from their wake. The
eery echo of a lychfowl reverberated through the forest with fearful clarity. As Robin passed a glance to Tuck, he saw that the monk's eyes were wide and
that he trembled almost visibly in fear. Tuck had obviously heard the tales that had been told about the ghosts and spirits of Sherwood as well.
Robin had never believed in them himself but, at the moment, he couldn't help wondering if the sounds made by the various creatures of the night weren't
some signal to mortals from the dead...Robin quickly shook this ridiculous thought from his head. He scolded himself for allowing his imagination to run
rampant like that and for thinking that Tuck could believe in such stories. Surely even Tuck wasn't that superstitious...or was he?
A twig snapped and Tuck halted his horse, staring wildly around him. Robin stopped as well, but only with the intention of explaining to Tuck that there was nothing to fear, that the twig had probably been broken by a small bird or animal. However, Robin soon found that Tuck's fears were justified as a
man stepped quietly on to the road, his figure only a silhouette against the faint light of the moon.
There was the soft and deadly sound of metal sliding from a scabbard. The stranger had drawn his sword.
"Your money," he spoke, edging closer to them, "or your life," he added, eyeing the young noble on the grey horse in defiance. But Robin only smiled.
Some light had fallen on the stranger's face. Beneath the hint of an unshaven cheek and tousled, unkempt hair, lay fierce and aggressive eyes.
Robin knew who it was. It was Scarlet.
The cart wheeled into the courtyard, dwarfed by the oppressive vision of Belleme Castle. The cart rattled over rough, cold stones, its still passenger jolting momentarily as if possessing life once more. Marion gazed long and
hard at it, as if to ensure that it didn't but wishing that it did.
The cart stopped and John and Nasir were soon lifting Guy's bloody corpse from it, following their mistress' instructions and carrying it straight into the castle. Marion glanced anxiously at Gulnar, who only leered at her unpleasantly. She shivered. It was a cold night to be about in, a cold night to be waking the dead.
A sharp wind blew and, even in the darkness, Marion could see it was the young witch, Lilith, who walked on its tail. Lilith, who had once been
servant to her husband, Simon de Belleme, and one with the Lords of Darkness. No night was ever too cold for Lilith, thought Marion grimly, watching her approach their small party of horses with the utmost confidence. Oh yes, she knew the true Powers of Darkness as an enchantress and disciple of the Dark path.
Marion envied her her powers and the weight she seemed to wield with the Lords of Darkness. However, they had chosen her, Marion, to lead them in their
present quest, not Lilith. Or had they? Was there a look of smugness in those flaming, dark eyes and the slight upward tilt of her chin? Had they chosen
this woman to take her place?
Marion's eyes were ice to smoulder the burning coals, but the fire
kept burning as Lilith returned the waves of repugnance, intensifying them with her own fiery resolve.
She had never liked Marion, nor had she trusted her. She had always hated her for marrying the Baron and living so near him as his wife: a title that Lilith had sought and craved for herself, but had failed to attain. She loathed Marion because she feared that the Lords of Darkness and Azael favoured her for her greater beauty, intelligence and inner strength. And now Marion sat like some goddess upon her horse, making her, Lilith, feel more mortal than
she wanted to be. However, Marion didn't feel much like a goddess. She glared down at the cloaked woman in front of her with pure animosity.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded angrily. "I told you never to come here again."
"I was summoned here," responded Lilith heatedly. "Here, Baroness, is this not your hand?" she questioned more quietly. She reached into her
cloak and removed a scrap of parchment from it, waving it like a challenge before her mistress. Marion snatched it, trying to read its dark, curly scratches in the moonlight.
"This is not my hand," she spoke at last.
"Then who sent it to me, my lady?" inquired Lilith innocently, passing a silent glance to Gulnar, knowing full well who had sent it.
"You!" cried Marion, catching the meaning behind Lilith's glance. "What right had you to summon one of my servants?"
"Every right, Marion. We cannot bring him back without her," he answered softly.
"Bring him back?" queried Lilith. Then the fire behind her eyes grew brighter. "We're bringing him back?"
"No," replied Marion, knowing that she meant the Baron. "Not yet." Lilith frowned, her pretty mouth pouting angrily. "We are bringing back Guy
of Huntington. He was killed tonight," added Marion sadly.
"Guy of Huntington!" snapped Lilith. "Who is that?"
"He is the Earl of Huntington's son," said Marion.
"And his heir," added Gulnar, a faint glimmer of greediness dancing in his eyes.
"So? Why should you wish to save him and not your own husband? How can you even hope to save him without the Silver Arrow?"
"We have the Silver Arrow!" spoke Marion. "Do you really think I would have suggested such a plan without it? And as for Guy of Huntington, that is no business of yours! You are my servant and the servant of Azael and the Lords of Darkness. All you have to know is that they have commanded this to be done and so you will do it without question. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Baroness," hissed Lilith, with pure venom, "I understand."
"Good," replied Marion, shivering again. "Let's go inside. The sooner we begin all of this, the better."
The pause between the three men seemed to span centuries. It was only when Robin's smile diminished and he spoke the outlaw's name that the silence was broken.
"Scarlet. Will Scarlet."
"You know me then, do you?" questioned Will, with just the slightest tinge of pride and satisfaction in his voice.
"Aye, we know you," answered Tuck, more than a little coldly. Robin stared at him, surprised to see him look almost as angry as he was afraid.
"Don't worry, brother," hissed Will. "I don't kill monks or priests but," he added, approaching Robin, "I have nothing against killing Norman swine."
"No!" cried Tuck. "He's the Earl of Huntington's son!"
"Is he?" growled Will. "Well, that's too bad, ain't it? Too bad for him anyway." He moved a step closer and Robin's sword flew out of its
scabbard to meet him."
"Nice sword," commented Will. "Do you need someone to teach you how to use it?" Robin dismounted, facing Will at his own level.
"My lord, don't do it!" protested Tuck. "He's one of the most dangerous cutthroats in Sherwood!"
"Yeah," piped up Will, "and I've fought and killed better men than you."
"I don't want to fight, Will," spoke Robin. "I only wish to talk."
"Talk? About what? What is it with you? Are you afraid to fight or something?" he gibed. But Robin paid no attention to Will's attempt at an insult.
"Aren't you a member of Robin of Loxley's band?" questioned Robin casually, trying to discover as best he could what had happened to his friend.
"What? You mean Robin Hood?" stated Will. He started to laugh. "You must be joking!"
"Why?"
"Because he's a fool," said Will. "He and his men are absolutely useless. They can't fight. They couldn't even rob an old man if their life
depended on it. Believe me, I've seen them try! Why do you want to know about him anyway?"
"I need his help," stated Robin, causing Will to sputter with laughter again. "I need help from you both."
"My help? Now why should I want to help you?" drawled Will.
"Because I'm leaving you no choice," replied Robin calmly. He flew at Will, provoking an attack with his sword, almost before the outlaw had time
to defend himself. He then took another swipe, but Will blocked the blow effectively. Robin withdrew, waiting to see what kind of affect he had had on Will. It wasn't a good one.
"Who do you think you are waving your fancy sword at me?" shouted Will. "You don't know how to fight. You don't know nothing! You think this is a game, but I fight to survive. I've seen your kind hunting in the forest, destroying everything in their path. And the soldiers burning down villages, killing innocent people--"
"Then why don't you do something about it, Will? Why do you rob the rich if you're only keeping the money for yourself? Why not join others and help the poor? Why do you fight alone?" demanded Robin.
"My lord--" gasped Tuck, trying to issue another warning.
"How-how dare you?" spoke Will in a deadly rasp. "You know nothing about it! It was Norman bastards like you who ruined me! And you come here telling me...telling me that I should do something about it?"
"Yes," answered Robin, who still remained completely calm, "I do. So what are you going to do about it, Will?"
"I'm-I'm going to kill you, that's what I'm going to do!" he thundered, lunging forward with his sword.
"The circle is ready, my lady," Lilith informed her mistress. "Gulnar and I have prepared it."
"Then bring his body forward," instructed the Baroness to two cowering servants, who were terrified of the magical symbols and concentric circles painted on the floor. There were also the black candles surrounding the circle, marking each direction like the positions on a sundial, and the quiet mutterings and incantations being delivered by the witch and the sorcerer. But they were more terrified by what fate they might incur if they disobeyed their mistress' orders, so they brought Guy's body forward.
"Careful!" hissed Lilith, as one of the servants almost knocked over a candle. It was a wonder Guy's body made it to the ground without falling, they were shaking so much. However, Marion had some sympathy for their fears. She
dismissed them quickly, her eyes following them as they left the crypt. Then they fell on Gulnar, who was hovering outside the circle, fingering what
appeared to be a narrow piece of parchment in his bony hands. Marion looked closer, trying to decipher the runes written upon it. She blinked. Was it her imagination, or were the runes forged in blood...?
Gulnar turned to her and Marion could no longer see any sign of the unusual parchment. He observed her confused stare but only smiled, moving closer to the circle of power again.
"Should I light the candles, Baroness?" questioned Lilith, who suddenly stood before her, distracting her attention from Gulnar for a few seconds.
"Yes, Lilith. As soon as you are ready."
"I am ready now, my lady," answered the witch. With one last toss of her head towards the Baron's stone coffin, she lifted a torch from a bracket on the wall and walked over to the circle.
Gulnar, who had been leaning over the body with almost bulging eyes, quickly stood and moved to the outside of the circle, giving Lilith room to light
the candles.
The Silver Arrow was lying on the ground. The witch lifted it carefully, grasping it firmly in both hands. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she saw nothing but the body as she concentrated deeply. Then, her lips parted. A whisper as soft as the wind escaped from them.
"I conjure thee by the Lords of Darkness, by the shield of Solomon and by the power of Herne's arrow. Venite! Venite!"
In the frozen stillness of the crypt and the quiet rumblings of the ancient, magical power, Lilith took the Silver Arrow and placed it in Guy's lifeless hands.
"Palas aron azinomas!" she cried. The hands twitched. Suddenly, Guy's eyes fluttered open. Lilith turned pale and stared at him, unable to move a muscle. Marion could only manage a faint and almost inaudible gasp. However,
Gulnar stood and grinned, a quiet but menacing laugh escaping from him. The Silver Arrow slipped from Guy's hands, forgotten. Guy rose slowly to his feet. Then, to Marion's astonishment, he coughed and spit out the piece of parchment that Gulnar had made. Now how had that ended up there, thought Marion fretfully.
Guy seemed to wonder the same thing. His forehead crinkled as he studied the group with blank and confused eyes. Finally, he tore his eyes away and looked down at the dark patch of blood that had soaked through his tunic.
He leapt back violently, knocking over two of the candles. When he lifted his eyes again, Marion was shocked to see that he was shaking his head and that his whole body seemed to tremble. Words tried to leave his lips, but he couldn't seem to push them out of his mouth. Marion stepped forward, which only caused him to move further back.
"Marion?" he managed to utter.
"Yes," she spoke gently, laying a hand upon his shoulder. If it had been a branding iron, he wouldn't have given so passionate a start.
"My lord of Huntington, calm yourself. We won't harm you," she promised.
"My lord of Huntingon? What...what are you talking about?"
"My lord?"
"What-what's going on? Where am I? What is this place?" he demanded.
"You're at Belleme Castle, my lord," explained Marion.
"What?" he gasped. "No, no, it can't be!" he protested. "We...I can't be here...Not here..."
"But this is Belleme Castle," implored Marion, watching as he gazed wildly at his surroundings. What was wrong with him? He acted as if the place was full of ghosts. Then, she remembered that it was. Hadn't they just brought
this man back from the dead?
"My lord, you're shaking! What's the matter?" she exclaimed. His eyes had stopped their frantic search of the crypt and had rested upon the bald and bony man in front of him.
"He's...You're...But you're supposed to be dead!" Guy cried.
"What?" replied Marion. But Gulnar only stood where he was, smiling serenely.
"Am I?" he questioned, possessing all of the innocence of a child. "Perhaps, my lord, you should take a closer look at yourself," he stated.
Then, it slowly dawned on Guy that maybe the sorcerer suggestion was wise. He stared down at his tunic again, his hands reaching gingerly upwards to feel his neck and the head it was attached to, almost as if fearing that he had lost it.
"Am I dead?" he dared to ask.
"No, my lord," answered Marion sweetly. "We saved you."
"Saved me?" he whispered.
"We brought you back."
"Back?"
"From the dead..." drawled Gulnar dramatically.
"From where?" Guy uttered. "What-what do you
mean the dead ?"
"It's true, my lord," spoke Marion, in such an earnest tone that Guy found it hard not to believe her. He shook his head, unwilling to accept this. He tried to move away from them but found he was trapped, that he had backed himself up against a wall.
"Th-th-this isn't funny!" he stammered. "How did I really get here? What's going on?"
"We brought you here, Guy," spoke Marion slowly. "And together we brought you back from the dead." She took a step towards him, but he pushed her back roughly.
"Keep-keep away from me!" he barked. "You're all mad!"
"But my lord--"
"Why do you keep calling me that? You never call me that! What kind of devilry is this?"
"Devilry? I'm afraid I don't understand, my lord," said Marion nervously, hoping that he hadn't somehow discovered the truth about her plans.
She didn't know what she would do if he found out about Azael and the Lords of Darkness before she had prepared him for it. Why, even now he was watching her, his eyes colder that she'd ever remembered seeing them before.
"Don't lie to me, Marion," he spoke quietly. "He's a part of this, isn't he? That's why you're here."
"He?"
"That wolfshead! He's behind this, isn't he?" questioned Guy sharply.
"Wolfshead? What wolfshead?" asked Marion indignantly.
"Why, Robin Hood of course! Who else would do this to me? Oh, don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about! You know all about it...Lady Wolfshead!"
"Lady who?" gasped Marion. She turned furiously to Gulnar, whose laughter had reached its highest crescendo.
"What have you done to him?" she shouted.
* * * *
Will's sword was wrenched from his hand for the third time. He growled in anger as Robin graciously took his own sword and pushed the weapon back to him. Robin had hoped that the fight might wear Will down enough for them to talk, but the fact that Will was losing this duel only seemed to infuriate him further.
Robin sidestepped quickly as Will took another leap towards him, trying to suppress a laugh as his opponent lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.
"You're out of practice, Will," stated Robin, crouching down to Will's level to offer him a hand. Will only stared at it, grumbling some kind of
curse. Then, after a moment or two of hesitation over whether he should take it or not, a smile spread slowly across Will's lips. Before Robin realized the true intent of that smile, Will had tightly gripped his hand and Robin had been
thrown against the ground.
"You were saying?" teased Will, as Robin fought to get his breath back. "You shouldn't have let up your guard," he taunted further, as Robin struggled
furiously beneath him. Will lifted his sword and Robin waited for the deadly stroke that was to come. However, both Robin and Will had forgotten about Tuck, who had slipped silently from his horse to pick up a log and...
Will fell forward with a groan, his sword barely missing Robin's left ear. Robin rolled Will's prone body away and sat up.
"Good timing," he spoke, accepting Tuck's assistance from the ground without a smile.
"Are you still going to try to convince him to help you?" asked Tuck. Robin looked down at his fallen friend and current adversary, wishing
he could have influenced him to change his mind. Will was a valuable companion and ally and Robin badly needed both. But he couldn't afford to get himself half-killed in the process. No, unfortunately, Will was a lost cause.
He motioned to Tuck. They moved Will's body off the road and into some bushes before riding on.
