Broken Arrow ac-8

by Paul Kane

"How did you…" Dale began, then: "The last time I saw you, you were…"

  Robert held up a finger. "Later, eh? I'll tell you guys everything then. Let's make sure the grounds and castle are clear first, then tend to our wounded."

  "Like you?" Jack pointed at the bloodstains at Robert's leg and shoulder.

  "We've all been in the wars," Robert said quietly, nodding at the state of Jack.

  "Aye, that's one way o' putting it." This was Bill, joining them, and Jack hugged the member of their family he hadn't seen in so long.

  Jack felt Dale moving away from his side, going off towards Sophie, asking how she was. Jack also saw the look Mark gave the lad. Even after everything that had happened, there were some things that still needed settling. Lots of things in fact.

  But it would take a while, Jack knew that. They'd been here before. Yet that victory had felt so much cleaner, much more final. When they'd ousted the Sheriff it was after a lengthy campaign of terror on his part. The Tsar had managed to achieve more than he did in much less time. And they almost hadn't regained what was theirs. The price had been high. So many injured, including those closest to them. So many dead.

  Everything felt broken.

  Jack also knew what Robert would say to that. What was broken could be mended… usually. He just couldn't help thinking that the scars from today would remain long after the battles were just a memory. That the ramifications might prove tremendous.

  Jack exhaled. He didn't have the energy to think about it. His body was crying out for rest, reminding him of every little thing he'd gone through. Like Mary, Mark, Robert and the others — even the castle itself — they needed to heal the physical before anything else.

  Then, and only then, could they begin to find their way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  They'd all lost their way to some extent.

  It wasn't until he took a step back from everything that he saw. It had taken so much to go wrong, before it could start to go right again. But then, Spring was here and it was the time for new beginnings.

  Robert looked out over the flowers that were blooming near the war memorial. The place they'd buried the dead from the battle with De Falaise, and those who'd died when The Tsar's forces had — briefly — taken the castle. Those who had fallen in the skirmish with the suited man's legions (Robert had since learned his name was Bohuslav) were buried where they'd made their stand against them, once all the detritus had been cleared. Tate had performed a moving service at both sites.

  They were still counting the cost, not just in terms of numbers but also morale. Those who were fit enough had been given the task of repairing parts of the castle that had been hit the worst. It had kept them focused on something other than training and fighting, given them a common goal of restoring their home.

  Because that's what this place was to them. He'd said it himself over the speaker when they'd arrived back here, commandeering The Tsar's own vehicle to take the place back (he'd used it reluctantly, conceding that Bill was right and they had no choice on this occasion; they needed to get Mary back to the castle quickly and safely).

  For the first time, he'd actually meant it. This was where he belonged, at least for now.

  That didn't mean he was abandoning Sherwood — his other home. For one thing he was continuing Mark's training there. The young man had certainly faced his fears: faced Tanek, and taken his first steps towards becoming the person he was destined to be. And Robert would always need to return, in spite of what Mary had once told him about not belonging there. She understood a little more about that now, the more she saw of the place — after experiencing its strange effects herself when she was so close to death. Plus Robert would always carry a little bit of the wilderness inside him, he couldn't escape it. Now he knew that the dreams would come wherever he was. He just had to let them.

  Relationships were being renewed, re-forged. From here Robert spotted Mark walking with Sophie, holding hands. Things had definitely changed between them since returning. It looked liked they'd finally worked things out with Dale, who seemed to have backed off to give them space. Mark had told Robert there'd been a conversation or two — between Dale and Sophie, Sophie and Mark — but he hadn't asked for details. He'd just been pleased that his adopted son was happy. Meanwhile, Sophie herself had turned out to be a pretty good nurse, with Mary's instruction and hours of dipping into text books on the subject. She'd definitely helped to patch them all back together when things had calmed down. Sophie said she'd always had an interest in medicine and now that Lucy was gone…

  Poor Lucy. It hurt Robert to even think about her with the others near that memorial.

  Bill, though he had things to attend to first with his market network, had agreed to come back and help with the general day-to-day running of the Rangers. He claimed Robert needed someone to "keep a bloody eye on him". This would allow The Hooded Man to go on more patrols, to be out there where he should be. "I still think ye should be armin' them lads properly," he'd said, Bill being Bill. But for now he seemed to have dropped the subject. For one thing he was busy fixing up one of the Black Shark attack helicopters they'd retrieved near Doncaster. "Look at that beauty," he'd practically drooled. "It'll be protection for the castle while you get your other defences up and running again…" Robert was too tired and too preoccupied to argue with him this time.

  Bill would be helped by Tate, who'd moved back permanently. Robert felt the most sorry for him. They'd both gone out to New Hope, after hearing that Gwen and Clive Jr were alive and safe, that they'd somehow escaped on their own. But Robert and Tate had been prevented from entering the village by the armed guards at the entrance. After Tate told them they weren't moving until they saw Gwen, the woman had reluctantly appeared. At first she wouldn't even look at the Reverend, even after he apologised. Then, when she did, she told him:

  "I never want to see you again. Don't come here any more."

  Robert saw how much the words upset Tate — he'd only been doing what he thought best. The Reverend never spoke all the way home.

  But even he hadn't moped as much as Jack. Robert's second had taken both Adele's betrayal and his own — he called it that no matter what Robert said — to heart. Or maybe it had been the torture; sometimes he woke the whole castle up at night with his bad dreams. Perhaps Robert's forthcoming wedding would take his mind off things. Who knows, maybe Jack would even meet someone from the neighbouring villages at that, because — like last year's summer fete — they'd invited all the people under The Hooded Man's protection.

  Robert recalled now those agonising days waiting by Mary's bedside, with Sophie telling him he should still be recuperating himself.

  "I need to be here," he insisted, and she'd left it at that.

  Robert held Mary's hand and was there when her eyelids finally fluttered open, a smile breaking on her bruised, but lovely face. "Hey…" she'd croaked.

  "Hey yourself."

  "Did… did we make it? Back, I mean. What happened… with…"

  "Sshh, shh." He stroked her hair, then kissed her forehead. "Everything's okay. We're at the castle. The Tsar's dead. Mark, Sophie, Jack, the Reverend, Bill, they're all…" He paused, but said it anyway. "They're all fine."

  Mary nodded, then winced. "I feel dreadful."

  "Well, you look beautiful."

  "Liar," she said, laughing, then wincing again. "How about Tanek… and Adele?"

  Robert shrugged. "Tanek I don't know. Adele you shot."

  "Good old Dad, all those hours hitting tin cans were definitely not wasted. Yay me. Did you find the other Peacekeeper, by the way? In the caves?"

  Robert nodded. "I know how much they mean to you, even though I don't technically approve. But yes, you have a pair again, now." He was skirting round what he really wanted to say, so he just got on with it. "Look, this probably isn't the right time or place, but, well, I've been thinking."

  "That's dangerous," she said.

  She must be feeling better. "I almost lo
st you, and I'm not sure if I could go through something like that…" Robert let the end of that sentence float away. "Mary, I guess what I'm trying to say is-"

  "The answer's yes, you know. It always was." She smiled back at him. "You looked like you needed helping out."

  And that had been that. They'd set a date over the summer, a special one that marked the anniversary of becoming a proper couple, and asked Tate if he'd perform the ceremony. His answer had been: "Nothing would give me greater pleasure." Now, if this quiet period would just hold out till then.

  They'd had no more reports of invasions, nothing about the Morningstars — it was as if they'd vanished, just as they did from the castle — no trouble yet from those prisoners that had got away, and that was how Robert hoped it would remain for the time being.

  As Mary joined him on that sunny, but slightly chilly morning — still using a stick to get about — he thought about what he'd said, about almost losing her. Not even the castle had been safe; they both realised that now.

  "When you're feeling up to it," he told her, slipping an arm around her waist, "how about we go out on a few patrols together. I know Dale would welcome the back-up. So would I."

  "You old romantic," she said to him, slapping his shoulder. He gritted his teeth, feigning pain at the wound he'd received at the hands of Bohuslav. "Oh, I'm sorry, love."

  "Maybe you should kiss it better."

  Mary grinned. "I think that can be arranged. I wonder if the stables are free…" She took him by the hand and led him down the path.

  As she did so, Robert realised that he didn't feel lost anymore. He been found, in more ways than one. He was both Robert Stokes — the man — and Robin Hood, the legend.

  There were worse things in life he could be, and this woman had rescued him from that.

  In a broken world, he said to himself, what more could anyone ask for?

  The country had welcomed him back into her arms like a concerned mother.

  One that also admonished him for ever wanting to leave. He comforted himself with the knowledge that none of this had been his idea. It had all been The Tsar's, the old Tsar's. Now that man was dead, along with Xue and Ying. Just as he had almost been.

  As he stepped out into the cold, flanked by soldiers to the left and right, on his way to the combat arena from the Marriott, Bohuslav's wrist throbbed again, at the stump which he'd cauterised himself, almost passing out from the pain.

  He felt the pull of the stitches at his stomach, the wound which would have seen his intestines spill out on the floor had it been a couple of millimetres deeper. As it was, he'd had to sew up the flesh with his one good hand — his driver useless at anything medical it seemed — dosing himself with antibiotics so there was no infection.

  By the time he was fit enough to travel, news had reached them of the failure of their troops to retain the castle. Bohuslav had been numbed by the realisation that their entire operation had been a spectacular catastrophe.

  There had been only one thing to do at that point. Waiting for them just off the coast were the fleet of empty hovercrafts, including The Tsar's, which he'd followed them in. He'd told his driver to radio that he would be returning, and that he would now be taking charge of the fleet — and indeed of The Tsar's entire army. They would return home to Russia to bide their time and replenish their forces.

  It had been enough of a pasting to make him think twice about trying it again for a good while. Or at least without any major allies. One day, however, one day…

  Because, as much as he loved his motherland, Bohuslav was also thirsty for vengeance. Not just on those who had done this to him, but also on the man who had lured The Tsar and his men across to that fated isle in the first place.

  Tanek.

  Even the name caused him to clench his fist as he climbed into the limo. He couldn't clench the other, as that position was now occupied by a handheld (Bohuslav would laugh at the inappropriateness of that, if it didn't remind him of the pain he'd endured) sickle, attached to the stump that was now aching so much.

  Yes, one day he would meet both Hood and Tanek again. And when he did…

  Bohuslav wondered where that cowardly giant had run off to after leaving his leader in the lurch. Reports were sketchy, but he'd apparently abandoned him at Sherwood after a confrontation with their enemies.

  "Drive," he instructed the man in front, once his personal bodyguards were seated on either side. (They were no oriental beauties, but he knew they would give their lives for him.)

  As the car pulled out into the snow-covered road, Bohuslav cursed Tanek, hoping that wherever he was, he was suffering.

  For weeks now, he'd sat there, beside her, watching her suffer.

  Quite how he'd managed to keep her alive was beyond him, not with the wound she'd suffered. He could put so much of it down to his skill with the blade, his knowledge of anatomy allowing him to perform the operation and remove the bullet — which had come so very close to penetrating her heart.

  After leaving Sherwood, Tanek's plan to return to the castle had been waylaid by Adele, who had finally passed out from the loss of blood, in spite of the field dressing he'd applied. He needed to get her to an old hospital, anywhere he might be able to find replacement blood quickly. Tanek already knew her type: O-Neg. He consulted the map he found in the jeep they'd taken, and decided to head for King's Mill in Sutton-in-Ashfield because it seemed to be closest to their current position.

  As he'd expected, the place was run down. People had picked over the stocks of drugs, but some of the medical equipment remained and the emergency operating theatre was still relatively intact — if woefully unhygienic after years of disrepair. They weren't in a position to be choosy, though.

  Placing Adele on the table, Tanek went off and gathered what he could find — including tubes and needles for a transfusion, seeing as there were no stocks of blood that he could find. Running out of time, he'd hooked himself up and conducted the transfusion at the same time he began to operate. Not ideal, but necessary. There was alcohol in the medical kit from the jeep, so he'd been able to sterilise the bullet wound that way. He hadn't needed to knock Adele out with anything as she was totally unresponsive.

  Tanek had cut into her with a scalpel that had survived the scavenger hunts, searching for the bullet that was causing all the bleeding. Little wonder, because it had glanced off the ribs and come close to actually puncturing her heart. Tanek had managed to remove the foreign item, stemming the blood flow; stitching her up and treating her with antibiotics that were also from the jeep. But he knew they couldn't stay there for ever.

  He was too woozy to drive that night, but once he'd recovered enough, Tanek carried her to the jeep and prepared to make the trip back to the castle in Nottingham.

  He hadn't got to the city limits when he saw that Hood's men were back on point. Tanek knew what that meant — they'd taken back the castle. He was tempted to go there anyway, gun them all down, but realistically he wouldn't get very far. And he had to look after Adele.

  The dreams, the promise… they were never far from his mind.

  He needed somewhere quiet, out of the way, somewhere he could care for her. So he'd retraced his steps from over a year ago, returning to Cynthia's little house out in the middle of nowhere.

  The door had been wide open this time when he arrived. Stepping cautiously inside with his crossbow raised, Tanek had searched the place for any signs of the woman or her fucking demon dog. There were none, just evidence of some kind of struggle. Obviously someone had stumbled upon this place and they'd either fled, or been taken away and killed. There were no corpses to indicate it had happened in the house. He neither knew nor cared.

  Tanek had carried De Falaise's daughter up to the bedroom, placing her on the comfortable bed that was still untouched. Then he'd looked after her, continuing to give her the antibiotics until they ran out, mopping her brow as she sweated out the pain, and willing her to wake.

  She opened her eyes only
twice. The first time she asked for water, which he gave her. Tanek had been feeding her intravenously with a drip he'd found back at King's Mill, while he'd been surviving on what he could hunt in the nearby meadows: small animals mainly, some birds which he killed with crossbow bolts. He'd lived on less.

  Adele told him she'd seen her father, that he'd talked to her.

  Tanek nodded. She'd had the dream as well.

  "He said I had to get better, had to… because…" She began to cough, and he gave her another sip of water.

  "Take it slow."

  "No, I must… must tell you… We have to… have to save…" That was all she could manage, then Adele lost her tenuous grip on consciousness. There was something wrong with her, any idiot could see that. Even in sleep, her face was a rictus of agony. Maybe he'd missed something internally, some fragment from the bullet that he hadn't spotted? Although he knew about the human body he was no doctor and hadn't had the best of facilities in which to work.

  Whatever the case, it was too late to do anything but sit and wait.

  The second time she woke, three days later, was the last. Tanek sat up when he saw her stir, especially when she'd grabbed his hand, gripping it tight. Adele looked at him, eyes wide, staring with an expression that only came when a person knew they were close to the end.

  "He made me promise," she spluttered. "My father."

  "Promise what?" Tanek leaned in. Maybe if he hadn't been able to keep his own pledge to De Falaise, he could fulfil Adele's. Would that make up for his mistakes?

  "Save-"

  "You said that before. Save who?"

  The grip tightened again. "His child."

  Tanek shook his head. He'd tried, he'd really tried.

  Then Adele said her final words: "My brother. My little brother…"

  She fell back on the pillow, letting Tanek's hand go. Tanek felt her neck; she was gone. It had taken this long but Mary had finally killed Adele with that bullet. He shed no tears, though. Not because it wasn't in his nature — he was just too preoccupied with what she'd imparted.