by Sara Ansted
Evey started rifling through the pouch, as much to avoid eye contact as to see what was in it.
"Yes. It's the best thing he's got right now. It will be a while before he can even sit up without pain."
"That doesn't surprise me at all," Lance said with a nod. "I'm just glad he's recovering. I worried that I didn't get to him in time."
They reached the camp, where they found John awake and boiling water. Evey went to Isaiah and examined his bandages. She accidentally prodded one a bit harder than she had planned to. He groaned and opened his eyes.
"Sorry!" she said quickly.
He just answered with another groan.
"I'm so glad to see you awake, Robin. How are you feeling?" Lance asked.
"Broken."
Evey leaned over him. "What do you need?"
"A new body."
"I think you've had a negative influence on him," Lance laughed. "There's never a shortage of sarcasm around here."
"How do you know I didn't get it from him?" she asked innocently.
Lance just stared at her.
She smiled and turned back to Isaiah. "No, really. What can I get for you?"
"I want to sit up. I don't want to just lie here anymore."
"You really shouldn't," Lance said.
"I know that, but I can't see or do anything like this, and my back is like an oak board. I need to move. If we go really slow, and both of you hold me up, we can do it."
Evey looked to Lance, who shook his head and repeated, "We really shouldn't."
"Oh, come on. It's my body. Just do it." Isaiah's tone grew sharp.
"Fine."
Evey went to his right side, and Lance to his left. For a while they discussed the best way to move him without breaking open any of his injuries. Isaiah tapped his fingers impatiently. She didn't blame him. Wounds like that could make anyone irritable.
Before they could come to any conclusion, an arrow whistled through the air and hit the tree only a foot above Evey's head. She immediately grabbed her bow and fit an arrow to it. Even while crouched, she could aim accurately, and she returned the fire. Moments later an unseen person squealed as the arrow hit.
By this time John had his crossbow and hammer. Lance had drawn his sword and Will sat up looking confused. More arrows sailed in. None of them hit their mark, and all four of the defenders crouched flat, waiting to catch a glimpse of their attackers.
Evey crawled forward, staying low. After two yards she had a clear view of three different men, all holding bows and wearing swords. She wanted to laugh. If the king's guards were so bad with crossbows, she could only imagine how hopeless they would be with longbows.
John fired as rapidly as his crossbow would allow him. He wasn't hitting anything either. The attackers had hunkered down behind large trees, and he had no clear shots. But he provided a good distraction, which Evey took full advantage of. In a flash, she raised herself to her knees, took aim, and fired, before throwing herself flat again. One man went down with an extremely painful hit to his calf. The others fired wildly in her direction.
Their aim was worse than the first volley.
Lance was only just behind her, and John was less than ten feet away.
In a whisper, she said, "I can see two men. More might be hidden. But from the looks of it, you should be able to sweep them clear, while I covered you and stay with Robin."
Far to the rear, Will called, "I'm coming. I'm coming."
She counted to three in her head, and then took another shot from her knees. The soldiers were quicker with their return fire, but not quick enough. They missed her completely. While they re-nocked arrows, John, Lance, and Will stood up and charged.
Evey was right. There had been only two more bowmen, and there were also many other soldiers hidden further in the trees. At the sound of the clash between the archers and the defending men, they came forward, engaging in a full scale battle. Evey counted at least ten of them.
Three she easily dropped with arrows, but the rest were too close to her friends. She didn't doubt her aim, but she did doubt her ability to predict the battle flow. Finding that her long distance advantage was gone, she dropped her bow and groped for her father's sword, which had been lying nearby.
She tried hard to remember every important thing that Isaiah had taught her as she charged into the fray. Without her bow she wasn't very effective in the fight, but Lance and Will were both sufficiently talented to balance her shortcomings. John was less skilled, but when he hit someone, they stayed down.
Most of the attackers went down quickly. After a few minutes, there were only two left - her combatant, and one that held his own very well against Lance. Will and John immediately noticed this, and closed in on the man she fought, which allowed her to back away. She gratefully took the reprieve.
Something caught her eye as she looked around. She turned quickly to see an eleventh man stalking toward Isaiah, sword drawn. Isaiah made a hoarse, frightened sound that stirred her into action. She didn't have time to run to her bow.
Sprinting as fast as she could over the dozen yards between them, Evey dropped her sword and leapt. Her flying tackle knocked the man cleanly from his feet. Like a cat, she landed gracefully, straddling the man's now prone form. She only realized that she had been furiously beating him when John pulled her off and held her arms behind her.
In the moment it took to restrain her, the man had jumped to his feet and taken off into the forest.
"Come back here, you coward! Try that again! Try it! I dare you!"
Will looked her in the eye. "Marion-"
"Let me go. Let me go!" she shouted.
John did, and she shook her arms out while asking, "Who were they?"
"I know this livery," Will said.
He kicked at a fallen soldier. Lance looked too, and swallowed hard.
"It's from the castle. These are the king's personal guards."
Suddenly Evey understood, and screamed out in fury.
"YOU! They followed you! How could you! You led them here!"
"I did not lead them!" Lance replied, too defensively.
"What did you do, huh? Save Robin just so you could get all of us at once?"
"Marion. He fought them with us." Will tried to reason, but she was past that point.
She slowly stalked toward him with balled fists, and even John hesitated to restrain her again.
"Isaiah almost got killed again and both times were your fault! The last mission failed because you didn't tell us everything, and now this! We can't trust you at all!"
Before John could grab her, she shoved Lance. He lost his balance. She swung her fist violently. It connected squarely with Lance's face, and he toppled to the ground, where he hit his head hard. His hood flew off.
Will and John dropped to their knees almost instantly. Evey had never seen the man before.
"Well, what's all this groveling for?" she demanded.
Will answered cautiously. "It's Prince David."
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
The prince did a lot of eye rolling, while they crouched on the ground.
"Would all of you stand up?"
Evey and the others were too stunned to react. They just knelt there staring at the king's youngest son. She was in for it now. The prince still pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stem the blood flow.
"Will someone tell me what on earth is going on?" Isaiah shouted from under the tree. "I heard a fight, saw Marion tackle some guy right above my head, and now you're all standing around staring at each other. Explain please!"
"We might ask you the same thing, 'Isaiah'," Will replied.
Evey's stomach did twelve somersaults.
"Oh, come on," she said hastily. "You didn't expect that Robin Hood was his real name, did you?"
She hoped that it sounded disdainful, but she was somewhat panicked. She hadn't meant to shout his name to everyone.
"Well, I gu
ess not." Will still sounded a little suspicious, but not enough to cause concern. Evey sighed with relief and walked over to Isaiah.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to. I was angry and I wasn't thinking. And then it was the prince, and I hit him, and then–"
"Slow down," he said calmly. "Beginning, please."
"Well, we were about to help you sit up, and those men attacked."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I got that far on my own, funnily enough."
"Well, there were three archers, and ten soldiers hidden behind them, plus the extra man that snuck up and tried to kill you. We beat them back, but then 'Lance' recognized them as the king's personal guard, from their livery."
He donned an understanding look. "Oh."
"Yeah. So I got mad at him and accused him of leading them here this morning. They obviously followed him anyway. I shouted your name, but I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. And then I punched him in the face. And, well, it was the prince. Our contact was Prince David. And I hit him!"
"Breathe," he replied, again just as calm as ever. "In. Out. That's it."
Evey took deep breaths in an attempt to quell the panic. Isaiah was the only person in the world that could have helped her calm down at that moment, and once again she was intensely glad that he was safe. The others gathered around Isaiah's bed, and Evey subtly locked her fingers around his during the commotion, drawing strength from his ever solid and reasonable demeanor.
He squeezed her hand just a little. "It doesn't matter, Marion. My name isn't important. Knowing it won't hurt anyone. I promise. But I'm sure all of you realize the value of continuing to call me Robin Hood. Not just for anonymity, but as a message to those we're resisting."
"Of course," John said.
Of the five of them, John seemed the most un-disturbed by the recent turn of events. Evey envied his ability to accept things so easily.
"So, Prince David," Isaiah stated. For a brief moment a flash of pain crossed his face, but he brushed it away and continued. "I never expected you. I'm sure you understand that we'll need a little explanation. Nothing personal, but the situation is rather suspicious."
"I am more than willing," the prince agreed. "You probably think one of two things. Either that I'm a spy, who set you up in order to capture you myself, and win glory in the eyes of my father, or that I am involving myself with you in opposition not only to my father, but to my brother, who will take the throne after him. That I am trying to fix the system in my favor."
Evey agreed with the last suggestion. It seemed the most obvious to her. But she noticed that both Will and John had nodded at the first. She wondered which Isaiah had suspected, but his face was a complete mask. Not just because of the one he wore over his eyes. There was a self-imposed stoic expression that she knew was hiding another surge of pain from his wounds.
"Are you okay?" she whispered. He nodded slightly, but didn't speak. The prince didn't notice the exchange, and continued his story.
"Well, I don't blame any of you for thinking these things. I am royal, and that is something to be mistrusted these days. But I hope you believe me when I tell you that neither are true. I am the youngest son, and that means that I will never get anything. People may not even remember that I existed, like they will with my brothers and father. But that isn't important to me. The only reason I could possibly want the throne is to fix what my father has destroyed, and I feel that there is still a chance to repair the damage without such a full scale revolution."
Evey cocked her head in interest.
"As you have undoubtedly guessed, my father isn't truly the king. Not anymore. There is a faction in the advising council that has effectively wrested all authority from him, while still leaving him as the figurehead and focus of the people's anger. He doesn't even realize it. He has been so blinded to current events that he thinks he is a wonderful king who loves and cares for his people. You and I know different.
"The leader of this faction, and the true culprit behind every tax and cruelty, is Sir Guy of Gisbourne. He has a few close associates, mostly from the military men in the council. With most of the knights in his pay, and the soldiers under his control, the king has very little power indeed."
"So," John said. "That's a real long-winded way to say 'the king lost his power to Sir Guy, and you're here to help him get it back, so's he can fix this mess."
"Well, basically," Lance - David - said.
"I knew it!" Evey shouted. "It had to be Gisbourne. The little–" She stopped herself before letting out a stream of unpleasant names, and re-focused on the prince. He smiled, and went on.
"As the youngest son, I have a unique position. I have no responsibility in the political affairs of the country, and no power to affect any change, but I am still privy to any and all information that comes through. I see and hear everything, while still being free to go about my business any way I choose. In the past few years, I have spent much of this time out among the people. Incognito, of course. And I have seen first hand the atrocities that have plagued this kingdom.
"That is why I searched you out. I know everything about the castle. I know what is going on, and what moves Sir Guy is making. And I also love this country. I want to make it what it used to be. And you are the ones that have the power to make a change. We need each other."
"You sure do like to make a speech of it," John muttered.
Evey thought for a moment, and found that she believed the story. Without the cloak hiding his face, she could see the honesty in it. He exuded an aura of trust and honor. For a moment she thought that he would make a wonderful king. But she realized that he was right about that. If it was possible to fix the problems without uprooting the system, they needed to take it.
Wow. She'd started to sound just like Emeric.
"Oh, and I have a favor to ask as well," the prince added. "From all of you."
"Yes?"
"Call me 'David', or 'Lance', or 'that guy', or whatever you like. But please don't call me highness, sire, majesty, or prince. I want to be a part of the team. Princes aren't teammates. There's always special treatment, and I don't want that. I'm one of you."
"I think we would be glad to, David," Evey agreed with a smile. She meant it, of course, but a tiny bit of her was relieved as well. Punching a team member in the nose was nowhere near as bad as punching a prince.
"Thank you."
"Well, that's that," she said.
She stood and turned toward the fire pit, but stopped in her tracks. She had forgotten about the dead men strewn on the ground. Men that she had helped kill.
No one else noticed her sudden discomfort. Will had already started toasting a bit of bread over the fire. John and David hauled some of the bodies out of the way with almost callous ease. How could they do it? These were men. Or had been, while alive.
The man at her feet had an arrow protruding from his forehead. Her handiwork. His eyes opened wide. The fear in them was still obvious, even through the glaze of death.
Evey turned around and took in several gasping breaths. Isaiah watched her with concern. She stumbled toward him and sat with her back to the battle scene.
He shifted just enough to look her in the eye. "What is it? Are you sick?"
Evey shook her head.
"You're not usually battle shy," he said.
His voice was so soothing. It calmed her a little.
"I've never killed a man before. Shot, maimed, knocked unconscious, sure. But killed?"
Isaiah rested his hand on her arm. "I see."
"He was alive five minutes ago, and now he's not. And it's directly because of me."
"Yes."
She laughed a little desperately. "'Yes'? Aren't you supposed to be the one who says something wise and un-guiltifying?"
He reached up and turned her face toward his. "Not this time."
They sat together in silence. There truly were no words to describe what she was feeling. But maybe there did
n't have to be. If killing were easy...
Twenty minutes later, Isaiah got restless again.
"As a matter of practicality, we should move camp. Now, if we can," he said, sounding increasingly uncomfortable.
Evey glared at him. "We can't move you. It's too risky."
Isaiah glared back. "It's either try to move me and risk some pain, or don't move me and risk a bigger army coming to find us here."
"Oh."
"Unfortunately, he's right," David said. "We've got to get out of here as soon as we can."
Evey went through every possible idea on how to transport Isaiah to the new camp. He turned each one down with increasing grouchiness.
"Fine!" she yelled. "Why don't you just walk?"
"Alright, then, I will," Isaiah yelled back.
John and Will took a step backward.
"Over my dead body, you will."
She folded her arms. He narrowed his eyes and sucked in a heavy breath.
"Curse you, woman. You're so blasted stubborn."
Evey replied with a few words that no genteel woman ought to know.
Isaiah set his jaw and threw off his blanket. "Yeah? Well, you're not the only one who can be stubborn."
"Don't you dare! Don't you even!"
Isaiah grabbed hold of a nearby stick and heaved himself upright.
"You idiot, pig-headed..." Evey snapped the arrow she held.
It took more than a minute for him to haul himself into a pseudo-standing position. By the time he had, he was covered in sweat, and obviously in an enormous amount of pain. Despite that, he looked up at her with his eyes still narrowed and his jaw still set.
He was such an idiot! Why would he do that? What was going through that stupid, thick skull of his? She couldn't watch anymore, so she turned to storm away dramatically. At the far end of camp, John, Will, and David sat together on a log, watching the row with obvious amusement. Will bit into a venison sandwich.
"What?" she shouted.
Then she did storm away. Not too far. Just enough to prove a point. She leaned against the far side of a tree about fifty feet away from the camp and folded her arms again.