Ghosts of Sherwood

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Ghosts of Sherwood Page 5

by T. S. Maynard


  Sir Lancelot limped in and embellished every step. He grimaced as he picked up the ball.

  Sean couldn’t help but wonder aloud. “Is this a real event?”

  King Arthur’s jaw dropped with insult. “Lawn bowling is the premier sport in the civilized world.”

  With perfect form, Lancelot tossed his ball and dropped all the pins. The crowd erupted, including King Arthur, who sprang to his feet and cheered. “Heart of a champion.”

  Alex stepped forward for his turn. He took up a ball, then lined up his shot. After a deep breath, he flung the ball down the grass lane. His efforts took out a majority of pins, but not enough to top Lancelot.

  Sean pursed his lips and looked down, disappointed. He had no interest in watching the remainder of the event in part because of his father’s performance but also because it’s lawn bowling.

  Arthur nudged him with his elbow. “No shame in losing to Lancelot.”

  Guinevere patted Sean on the back. “Don’t worry, Sean. His performance in the joust will get him through to the final.”

  “What’s the final?” As if on cue, the trumpeter blared his horn beside a giant target. “Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time for archery! First up, Sir Galahad versus Sir Lancelot.”

  The crowd cheered for Lancelot, who stepped to his mark. He grimaced in pain as he drew his bow back, then eased the tension to collect himself. It was too painful. The crowd held its breath.

  Arthur leaned over to Sean and whispered, “Carpal tunnel syndrome. Years of paperwork building his franchise—by far the most profitable.”

  Lancelot gathered his strength, drew his bow again, and bellowed in pain as he released the arrow. It struck the target just outside the center ring. Lancelot waved to the roaring crowd while holding his shoulder.

  Galahad smirked as he stepped forward. With perfect form, he drew back his bow and released without hesitation. The arrow tagged the target dead center. Galahad’s cheering section roared with delight.

  Off to the side, Alex stretched the string of his bow to get the feel. It had been many years since he last held one of these things.

  The trumpeter shouted, “And now, Sir Alex versus Sir Percival.”

  Alex exhaled, wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, and stepped up. He scanned the faces in the crowd while his mind raced and took him back to the state championship when he was a fifteen-year-old boy. He remembered surveying the stands for his dad, but he wasn’t there. Young Alex shuffled to his mark and launched a shot that whiffed the target. Spattered, muffled laughs came from the spectators. It was both humiliating and heartbreaking.

  Alex shook the memory out of his thoughts. He was a grown man now and needed to focus. Stepping to his mark, Alex drew back the arrow and aimed. He let go, and the arrow sailed through the air and tagged the target. But it was far from the center—a very beatable shot. Alex glanced up at the crowd and made eye contact with Sean, who smiled for his dad, trying his best to put on a supportive face, but Alex could see through it. He exhaled in disappointment and stepped off to the side. All he could do at this point was watch and hope his shot held.

  Sir Percival waddled up, struggling to grasp his bow, which looked like a toy in his beefy grip. He pulled the bow back with just two fingers and released his shot. The arrow whizzed like a rocket and pierced the target, but just outside Alex’s shot.

  The crowd cheered, now rallying behind the underdog—Sir Alex of Richmond. Alex’s spirit lifted from the shouts of encouragement. He had one more chance to make his son proud.

  The trumpeter announced, “And now, to decide the tournament champion, Sir Alex versus Sir Galahad.”

  The arena fell silent, and Alex stepped up to take his mark. He glanced at Sean and pushed all thoughts of fear and failure aside. He could win this! Alex pulled the bow string back, aimed, and let his arrow fly. Swoosh. The arrow sailed through the air and pierced the target almost dead center, triggering thunderous cheers from the crowd. Alex only focused on his son, who grinned ear-to-ear. There was nothing forced about this smile. Alex tapped his heart, then pointed to Sean.

  Sir Galahad tipped his hat but wasn’t rattled in the slightest. He stepped forward and drew back his bow. Like Alex, he stole a glance at Sean, who watched with his hands clasped together, praying for his father to win. Ever so slightly, Galahad adjusted his aim and let the arrow go. Thump. The arrow pierced the target less than an inch outside Alex’s shot. The crowd burst into cheers and applause. Sir Alex had beaten Sir Galahad!

  Sean leaped up from his chair. “He did it! He did it!”

  “Yes, he did,” Arthur said as he watched the crowd storm the arena floor and envelope Alex.

  Moments later, two guards escorted Alex from the arena and into the castle. As they walked down a hallway, they turned a corner and bumped into the Sheriff who grabbed Alex by the shoulders and gave him a great big hug. “My dear friend, that was amazing.”

  Alex eyed him. “You sure it’s okay to be seen with me?”

  “Of course, we’re practically equals now. In fact, I’ve decided to represent you.”

  “Represent me?” Alex asked.

  “As the champion of the summer games, the king is likely to make you an offer to serve in his royal court.” The Sheriff smiled with a twinkle in his eye.

  “I just need to get home,” Alex said.

  “I’ll make that clear in the negotiation,” the Sheriff replied and inserted himself into the entourage.

  The guards led Alex and Sheriff deeper into the castle until they reached the king’s office chambers. Upon entering, Sean hurried over and hugged his dad.

  King Arthur sat behind his desk, poised to do business. He furrowed his brow upon seeing the Sheriff. “Why are you here?”

  The Sheriff patted Alex on the back. “For moral support, advice… and a fifteen percent cut.”

  “Very well,” Arthur replied, and then turned his attention to the star of the afternoon. “Sir Alex, that was quite a display. No one has ever won the games on their first try. I’m prepared to make you an offer…”

  The Sheriff stepped forward. “Two thousand gold coins, nothing less.” He sliced the air with his hand to emphasize this was his bottom line, then gave Alex a wink. He had this negotiation under control.

  Alex held up hands in disbelief. “What about going home?”

  “You can’t go home yet,” Arthur said. “You weren’t honest with me before, and I wasn’t honest with you. The games were a test to find the fittest knight to undergo a quest.”

  Alex couldn’t believe his ears. “The fittest? I have trouble running a 5k.” He sat down to collect himself. This was all too much. First, Sean and he were transported to this strange land; then they traveled to Camelot where they met King Arthur; next, he had to win a medieval tournament, and now he had to embark on some quest?

  In a deep, stoic voice, Arthur replied, “It was fate that you won.”

  Alex shook his head. “It was dumb luck.”

  Arthur remained unbowed. “You sayeth po-tay-toe, I sayeth po-tah-toe. Either way, the Magician came to me not long ago and prophesied a man that would come from a faraway land to save us. That man is you, Sir Alex. It is fate.”

  “I just need to get us home.” Alex looked over at his son.

  “Your wish to go home leads you on the same journey. You see, the only way to get back to Richmond is to recapture the Book of Magic. Robin of the Dark Hood stole it. This book contains the secret to getting you home.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “That seems awfully coincidental.”

  Arthur growled. “Fateful.”

  Alex held up his hands and shrugged, “I don’t even know where Robin Hood lives.”

  Arthur rose to his feet. “Precisely the reason for the quest. To defend ourselves from Achilles and his army, we need to recapture the items Robin stole—swords, treasure, and even some of our people.”

  “And don’t forget my precious Lucy,” the Sheriff added.

  “Your wi
fe?” Alex asked.

  The Sheriff got a lump in his throat and fought back a tear. “My horse.”

  “He’s also taken Excalibur, the only weapon capable of destroying Achilles. The problem is no one can find Robin Hood’s camp. I need one brave knight to face the witch of Mount Drudgery.”

  “What can the witch do?” Alex asked.

  “She grants the wish of any person able to make it to the top of the mountain. You will wish to know the location of Robin Hood’s camp,” Arthur explained.

  “Why not wish to destroy Achilles?”

  “You cannot wish harm on another. That’s called a curse, and she only grants wishes.”

  Alex’s mind swirled. He had his own problems. Anna was on the verge of leaving him. He had issues with his father, and he’d almost forgotten about his promotion, which he could very well lose if he didn’t get back soon. “I can’t go on a journey. My Lordship is at stake, remember?”

  Sean tugged at his father’s arm. “Dad, we need to help save Camelot.”

  Alex shook his head. “We need to go home.”

  “Robin of the Dark Hood is trying to destroy Camelot and The Magician.” With stern eyes, Arthur stared at Alex. “If he’s successful, there is no going home. No Lordship. Nothing.”

  Chapter 7

  Outside the gates of Camelot, Alex gave Sean a hug before mounting his silver stallion. King Arthur stood with the Sheriff and looked on with trepidation, hoping this plan would work. It might be the last chance to save the kingdom.

  Arthur waved. “God speed, Sir Alex.”

  “Hiking up a mountain shouldn’t be too bad,” Alex said, trying to convince himself more than anyone. “I climb the rock wall at the gym all the time.”

  “Right. Of course, no one has ever come off the mountain alive,” the Sheriff said.

  Alex’s eyes widened. “What’s so dangerous?”

  “I’d ask them, but they’re all dead.”

  “Good pep talk.” Alex dug his heels into his steed and headed off towards Mount Drudgery, a massive and foreboding sight on the horizon. Dark clouds encircled the peak, and it had sharp edges and a steep face just below the clouds.

  Alex rode for several hours through the forest. As he neared the mountain, he passed a ragtag group of refugees in tents. Aside from a few people with small knapsacks, these people had nothing except the clothes on their backs.

  Alex guided his horse towards a small boy. “Young man, what’s your name?”

  “Jack,” the boy answered.

  “What happened here?”

  “Achilles. He destroyed everything. I was lucky and managed to save some potatoes and beans.”

  Alex sputtered, “I bet they’re your magic beans.”

  Jack cocked his head. “How did you know?”

  “It’s that type of day,” Alex said, and rode on. He soon passed the area where Achilles had struck. The land was barren and black, as if a massive fire scorched everything to a cinder. Alex hated Achilles as a boy, and he was beginning to hate him as an adult. He clipped his heels into his stallion and hurried past the wasteland.

  A short time later, Alex arrived at the base of Mount Drudgery. The trail leading up was too narrow for a horse, so he hopped off, tied the animal to a tree, and started up the path. At first, Alex moved up the hillside at a nice clip, swerving through trees and around rocks, but he soon tired. After several hours of maneuvering through thickets of bushes and squeezing between craggy rocks, he could climb no more. He perched himself atop a rock for a breather. When he looked out to enjoy the view, he gasped. At best, he was thirty feet high. It was as if he’d been on a treadmill all day. Alex slumped his shoulders and groused, “Guess that explains why no one gets to the top.”

  How could he scale this never-ending mountain? It would take him thirty or forty years to reach the summit at this rate. It seemed an impossible task until an idea struck him. He hurried off the mountain, which only took a minute since he was so close to the ground. Alex mounted his horse, then rode back to the refugee camp where he searched the people until he found Jack huddled near a campfire.

  “Jack, do you have any of those magic beans left?” Alex asked.

  Jack stroked his chin, sensing Alex’s desperation. “What’s it worth to you?”

  “I don’t have any money.”

  “Then you don’t have any beans.” Jack turned back to the fire and held up his hands for warmth.

  “How about this watch?” Alex popped off his Tag Heuer watch. “It’s very expensive.”

  Jack scrunched his nose at the offering. “I’ve got magic beans, and you want to give me a watch?”

  Alex clicked the light, illuminating the display.

  “Oooh.” Jack jumped to his feet, snatched the time piece, and handed the beans over. He drifted back to his seat by the fire, pressing the light button on and off like a toy.

  Darkness set in, and Alex rode back to the base of the mountain where he planted one bean and stuffed the rest in his pocket. Within seconds, a vine sprouted. It grew in inches at first, then in feet before it rocketed skyward.

  Alex took a deep breath before grabbing one of the oversized leaves protruding from the shaft. The beanstalk lifted Alex higher and higher into the sky until he was up near the cloud line. It grew so tall it buckled under its own weight. The shaft listed towards the mountain until gravity gained the upper hand. As the stalk fell towards the mountain, Alex scampered higher up the trunk, but it was a futile effort. He clutched the falling stalk and braced for impact. At the last second, he spotted a soft patch of bushes. He let go and landed in the shrubs, which absorbed most of the impact, but his momentum sent him rolling downhill. When he stopped, he dusted himself off and discovered he was near the summit. Tucked amid a cluster of trees was a tiny, rickety shack built for someone petite. A faint, ominous gray light glowed from within. Alex creaked the little door open with his finger, revealing a modest home and the source of the dim light—a small fairy buzzing about. Alex wondered aloud, “Tinker Bell?”

  The fairy whirled around. When Alex got a good look at her face, he startled too, as she was nothing like what he remembered from the books. This fairy was middle-aged with wrinkled wings, a crooked wand, and her face had a perpetual scowl. “Oh, I’m sorry, for a second I thought you were—”

  “Tinker Bell?” the fairy asked in a raspy voice and more than a hint of irritation. “She’s my identical twin sister. I’m Tinker Nell.”

  “Oh, yeah. You look exactly the same, except you’re…” Alex swallowed. “… prettier.”

  Tinker Nell studied Alex from head-to-toe. “I’ve never seen anyone so young up here. Most people spend their entire life trying to get up the mountain to get their one wish. Those that make it usually forget why it was they started. They lose touch with all their friends and family and end up wishing for a place to rest.” She waved her hand and motioned to the far side of the mountain. Several cottages were perched along the hilltop, with elderly people napping on the porch.

  “Why are you on Mount Drudgery?” Alex asked.

  Tinker Nell huffed. “I’m not bothered by all the people below asking me to grant wishes.”

  Alex became worried. “Can you still grant my wish?”

  Tinker Nell put her hand on her hip. “Let me guess, you want fame?”

  Alex shook his head.

  “Fortune?”

  Alex shook his head again.

  Tinker Nell jabbed her crooked wand at Alex. “You better not ask for a million more wishes because I’ll cast you right off this gosh darn mountain.”

  “People try that?”

  Tinker Nell had no interest in a conversation. She motioned for Alex to look up to the sky, eager to get this over with. “Pick a star from the sky and make your wish.”

  Alex glanced at the night sky. There were only a few visible stars. He then gazed in the distance at the lights of Camelot. “I wish for you to send my son and me home.”

  The wish surprised Tinker
Nell. She pondered for a moment. “That’s two wishes now, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s one wish.”

  “I heard an ‘and’ in there.”

  “Fine. I wish to go home with my son,” Alex said.

  “You just rephrased two wishes to make it sound like one.”

  “Are you saying that if I wished for a sundae with a cherry on top, you’d only give me a sundae?”

  “Is that what you want?” Tinker Nell waved her wand to the sky and poof—a star went black, and a sundae rested on the window ledge complete with an enormous cherry.

  Alex sneered at the dessert. “I don’t want a sundae.”

  Tinker Nell fluttered to the window and called out to a scraggly old man napping on one of the cottage porches. “Hey Bill, got a sundae up here if you want it.”

  Bill tipped the brim of his Stetson and considered the offer, but decided it was too much effort, and dropped his head to continue his nap.

  Tinker Nell turned back to Alex and crossed her arms, annoyed this was taking so long. “So, who’s it going to be, you or your son?”

  Alex shook his head with dismay. “I thought this was a magical fantasyland?”

  “It doesn’t seem so magical these days. So, choose or start climbing.”

  Alex considered his options. “If you can’t send us both home, then I need to know the location of Robin of the Dark Hood.”

  “Why do you call him that?” Tinker Nell asked.

  “Because he turned to sorcery and is trying to destroy Camelot.”

  “Is he, now?”

  “Listen, that’s what I was told. Unless I can find him, I can’t get some book he stole, which means I can’t get my son and I home, so can you grant me my wish?”

  “Very well.” Tinker Nell fluttered outside with Alex, closed her eyes, and raised her wand. As she concentrated, her already weak gray light flickered even dimmer. She waved her wand, and another star went black. Seconds later, a massive dark cloud formed beside the mountain.

  Alex stared up at the sinister formation. Ominous figures darted through the mist. One wore a dark hood. An image came into focus as the figures emerged from the fog. They were at Camelot. The hooded figure headed for a bedroom and opened the door, revealing Sean, fast asleep. The hooded figure snatched Sean from his bed before disappearing back into the fog. A single arrow flew from the mist and stuck in the bedroom door.

 

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