That was it, time to end this. “Tuttle, Fletcher, with me... Simpson and Hodges, cover us.” Bows raised, hoods up, they opened the door and braved the angry crowds. “Stick close together,” Jane said to her companions. Then to the protestors: “If you do not disperse, we will fight back!”
A large stone struck Tuttle on the shoulder, sending him reeling backwards. Fletcher shot first, aiming down at the direction the stone had come from. Then a couple of people, wearing scarves pulled up to cover their lower faces, rushed up the steps at Jane and she hit the first in the thigh, the second in the arm. She’d specifically said they needed to bring people down with as little damage to their person as possible: wound, nothing more, if they could help it.
Three more people came at them, closing the gap too quickly for Jane to use her bow effectively. Hodges winged one of them from above, and another arrow—presumably from Simpson—missed its target completely, bouncing uselessly off the steps. Then Jane was being struck with a piece of wood, which knocked her bow out of her hands anyway. Using the defensive techniques she’d been taught at Nottingham Castle, she blocked the next strike with her forearm, delivering a blow to her attacker’s sternum that pitched him into two more behind. A knot of them went down then, like pins in a bowling alley.
More arrows were shot into the crowd and it was only now that Jane heard a high pitched cry. It was coming from the back, and the crowds parted then to reveal a body on the floor with an arrow sticking out of her. A middle-aged woman with long, silvery-blonde hair, blood pooling at her chest. There was another, younger woman—teenaged even—with short hair beside her. A daughter maybe, thought Jane, and she was the one who was screaming.
“Help! Help her!” the younger woman was yelling to anyone who’d listen. “Please help her!”
Jane tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Time seemed to slow down, neither side fighting now, just standing there. Then the younger girl turned and glared at Jane.
“You! You did this! She only came out to see what was going on.”
All eyes were on the Ranger Captain now, boring into her. It didn’t matter that this lot had started the riot.
And, as much regret as Jane felt right now, she knew she wouldn’t be the only Ranger leader who would have to carry such a burden before this day was out.
CHAPTER NINE
IT WAS THE dream of a forest on fire again.
Except, was it a dream? He couldn’t remember. He recalled the run up to it well enough. The waiting—for something. Now what was it? Ah yes, night-time. No, not the night specifically, but what it would bring.
Monsters. Moving like a wave over that field, towards the fort. There had to be at least three times as many as them: sixty, maybe even seventy. Robert and Jack had watched them carefully, studying their movements. Watching how they bounded, some even using their arms and hands to propel them forwards. The Rangers were on the wall, including Hurst and Poynter. Robert knew from talking to her earlier that it would be her first time in a proper battle—and she’d certainly picked a peach to start off with. Looking over, Robert couldn’t help imagining April at that age, what she might be like—maybe a lot like Poynter. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be fine,” he’d said to her, not really knowing how much comfort his words would be. She’d given him the best smile she could muster.
“Here they come,” Jack had said, preparing himself as much as the rest of them.
Lagorio, holding a Socimi Type 821 submachine gun in front of him like it was about to come alive, began praying loudly in his native tongue. In the courtyard were a mixture of NRI and the Italians that were left. They were there to hold the gate in case any should get through, the second Lince turned sideways and propped against the already mangled doors.
Cole, who was also on the wall with them and armed with an HK53 rifle—a little way over to Robert’s right—called out, either in response to Jack’s line or the praying: “God help us all!”
They could certainly use the help of some kind of deity right now, Robert remembered thinking, touching that bag again on his belt.
Then the horde was just metres away, splitting off into different packs—some tackling the sides of the fort, others heading straight for the gates. “Pick your targets, everyone,” said Robert. “Aim for the heads.”
Several were scaling the walls of the outpost, clawed fingers and feet finding purchase. It should have been agony, but of course they felt nothing. Robert bent over the side and loosed two arrows in one shot. The creature he’d been aiming for swung away from the wall on one arm, dodging the projectiles, then swung back again and carried on climbing. Whatever else they were, they had fantastic reflexes.
There was the sound of gunfire, both on the wall and from down at the entrance, where Robert could see the beasts were making headway breaking in. For their part, the defenders of the fort weren’t making a dent in the enemy’s numbers. In fact, Robert didn’t think they’d taken one solitary creature out yet. It was time for Phase Two.
“Okay,” said Robert. “Let’s lighten things up around here a little.”
He bent and grabbed one of the arrows he’d made earlier; all the Rangers had them—with strips of cloth tied around the ends, doused in petrol taken from the jeeps they’d found in the courtyard, and the truck. Robert lit it with a match, aimed, and shot it at the monster he’d missed. It tried to dodge again, but this time Robert hadn’t been trying to hit it. He’d been aiming for a spot just to the side of the creature: difficult at this angle, but never impossible for him. The arrow struck, spreading the flames outward and across to the beast, who recoiled and lost his grip on the wall, then tumbled back and into more of his kind just below him. Robert followed it up with another flaming arrow, this time hitting the bodies that had fallen and setting them all alight. The hair covering them went up like a bush-fire.
He allowed himself a satisfied grunt, but soon regretted it when he saw that more creatures to the left and right had reached the top of the fort’s wall. Hurst was ripped to shreds almost immediately, letting out an ear-piercing shriek. Cole was firing at one of them, which had perched on the ledge like a bird, before springing off and leaping at the medic. There were sparks as the bullets hit the wall, but inevitably the man was carried backwards and fell off the battlements, dropping into the courtyard where his prolonged cries were suddenly cut off.
“We all going to die!” Lagorio was yelling at the top of his voice.
“Get a grip, pal!” Jack shouted, before turning his attention to a creature clambering over the wall. He thrust his staff into its face, sending it back where it had come from with a growl.
Another had got onto the battlements near the Italian, and he grabbed Poynter, spinning her around and using her as a human shield.
“For the love of...” Before it could reach either of them, Robert lit another arrow and loosed it at the beast, striking it in the back. The creature stumbled around, a living torch, reaching out to snag anyone close enough and take them with it. It found Poynter and pulled her over the side. Robert covered the distance quickly, though not as quickly as he would have done a decade ago—more’s the pity—but he did get there in time to grab the girl’s wrist. The monster was still hanging on to her by the legs, and Robert was struggling to keep hold of them both, to take their weight. He looked over for Jack, but the man was busy going toe-to-toe with another beast that had made it over. He turned his head the other way, looking to Lagorio for assistance. “Help me, man!”
The Italian stood frozen, still holding his weapon as if he didn’t know what its purpose was. Then, to Robert’s amazement, he turned and ran—off along the battlements, heading for the steps to take him downwards.
“Bloody coward!” Robert let go of his own weapon to cling on to Poynter with both hands. The girl’s eyes were pleading with him.
You’ll be fine... It’ll be okay. It’s all going to be okay, April.
“Y—You’re going have to work with me here,” Robert told her, but sh
e didn’t understand what he meant. Then the penny appeared to drop and she kicked out, dislodging the creature hanging on to her with the third attempt. “Good girl!” Robert began dragging her up the side, puffing a little as he did so.
“Look out,” she said, pulling a knife and lunging past Robert—plunging it in the skull of one of the monstri. Its eyes rolled back into its head and it fell over the wall with a whine.
Robert gave her a grateful nod, and she smiled back, only now remembering to put out the fire that had spread from the monster to her cargos. He looked around him, pleased to see that the men were now employing another one of his ideas. Robert had seen this plenty of times on prison visits when he was a copper. Boiling water, mixed with the sugar from the kitchens. Not only did it burn, it also stuck to the skin—or fur, in this instance. They had heated pans of the stuff up here, for use in close quarter combat, and so they could tip it over the side and douse the creatures still climbing up.
Were things actually turning in their favour? he wondered.
Apparently not, because it was then that he heard a noise from beneath him: the unmistakable sound of the gates giving way yet again, of the brutes climbing through over the Lince. Robert glanced down into the courtyard, only to see those red-eyed bastards leaping onto members of the NRI and Italian guard, a smattering of gunfire all they had time to let loose. One poor sod was torn limb from limb, blood spraying everywhere at once.
Robert shook his head. Now they were inside the fort once more, streaming inside even though the gap at the gate was relatively small.
Then, like a miracle, there was Azhar. His blades whipped left and right, so fast they were like helicopter blades. If the beasts thought their claws were savage, then they hadn’t seen this man in action. He was tearing through the mob that came at him, never once letting them get more than a foot or two inside his reach.
Good old Azhar! thought Robert, snatching up his bow once more and slotting one of the petrol-soaked arrows into it. Maybe there was still a chance after all then...
Who was he kidding? These guys were still flooding over the tops of the walls, relentless and unstoppable. There were just too damned many.
It was then that Robert heard an engine above all the confusion. Only this was on the outside of the fort rather than inside. He looked over, to see the Thesis revving up. Bloody Lagorio! Somehow, the man had made it to the state car and was attempting a getaway, leaving them to it.
But the monstri had heard the noise too, were gravitating towards it. In a panic, the Italian flashed on the lights, momentarily blinding those closest. Then he set off, mowing a few over and attempting to cut a swathe through the beasts.
Robert barely had time to register the development, when he was suddenly barrelled into. Three of the creatures were on him, clawing at him. It felt like he’d been fed to the lions.
“Robbie!” came a cry and Jack was suddenly by his side, attempting to bat them off with little success. Poynter was on the other side, doing the same.
Robert was struggling to balance, and he was beginning to feel not only the weight of the creatures latched on to him, but also of the years. The next thing he knew, he was falling. With nobody there to catch him, as he’d done with Poynter, he plummeted from the wall of the battlements.
It seemed like a long drop. Long enough for him to try and position himself so that the beasts bore the brunt of the landing.
Still hurt like hell when he struck, though—like being hit by a train. Two of the monstri popped on impact, or at least that’s what it felt like. Certainly something inside them popped, as indeed it did in Robert himself. One survived, rolling off him—but instead of attacking again, it limped away.
Robert’s head was fuzzy. He tried to straighten his left leg, but found he couldn’t. Found himself in excruciating pain, actually, looking up and seeing a hooded figure. A reflection of himself, perhaps? And a dead version of himself at that, because this figure had a skull for a face.
Or Death itself, finally here to tell Robert that his time was up.
It was holding a machete in one hand. “G-Go on then. Do it,” Robert managed, recognising the Morningstar Servitor he’d seen earlier on in the forest. “G-Get it over with.”
But instead of raising the machete, the man raised something in his other hand, and blew into it.
A whistle, thought Robert. Like the kind they use to train attack dogs. This man was calling back his pets, those that were left, so they could fight again another day. He nodded at Robert on the ground, then began striding away, joining the monsters flocking to him from the fort. As swiftly as they’d arrived, they began departing again.
Robert got on to his side, then his front. He hauled himself up, bracing himself on his good knee, and squinted. In the distance, he could make out the Thesis with its lights still on, inside and out now. The door was open, the driver’s seat empty. Lagorio had apparently been dragged out to meet his fate, leaving the car to carry on driverless. It had struck a tree at the forest’s edge, not far from where the Lince had overturned.
The Mornigstar and its monstri soon caught it up, heading inside the trees themselves.
“Oh... oh, no you don’t,” Robert managed through clenched teeth. He picked up his bow, knocked another arrow, and lit the end. “I... I can still see well enough for this.”
And the arrow was away, travelling the length of the field as only one of Robert’s could. It found its home, slamming into the state car’s tank with a force it shouldn’t really have had. Seconds later it went up, and with it the trees closest.
The fire spread, finding the Lince and devouring that too—until its own tank erupted. Soon the entire front of the forest was ablaze, the flames leaping from tree to tree, branch to branch.
Even at this distance, he could hear the howling from inside, the things in agony as they burned alive. Some even staggered out into the field, blazing…
Robert winced. Not because of his own pain, but because although it had been the only way to ensure the creatures didn’t get away, burning that forest down made him incredibly uncomfortable. And he felt sure one day it would come back, as Jack might say, to bite him on the ass.
But for now he was done. Spent. Could no longer even hold himself upright. His vision, which had been clear enough momentarily as he took the shot, was now blurring again. His head hurt; his everything hurt.
As he collapsed, blacking out—as he’d done so many times before—he wondered if this really was the end for him.
And he wondered if the real Death was on its way now to claim him.
HE BLINKED ONCE, twice, then opened his eyes.
It wasn’t Death’s face he saw hovering over him, but Cole’s. Last seen falling from the battlements, being attacked by one of the creatures. So, this was Heaven then? They’d sent someone familiar to greet him, to ease his transition?
Only, as Robert blinked a few more times and the misty halo disappeared from around the heavily-tattooed man, he saw that the medic’s left arm and upper body was in plaster. His face and other arm had also been stitched, where the beast’s claws had slashed him. But nevertheless, Cole smiled.
“Back in the land of the living, then?”
Am I? thought Robert.
“It was touch and go for a while there, so I’m told,” the doctor continued, trying to shrug under his injuries. “Professional curiosity. I have to say they’re very good here. Patched us both up nicely.”
Robert looked past the man, looked around him to see a couple of beds, a large window at the far end, taps and a sink. It smelt of disinfectant in here; he was definitely in some kind of hospital. Robert ached, inside and out. Tentatively, he moved his right arm and found there was a drip attached. Then he tried to hitch himself up the bed so he could see down the length of it. His left leg was elevated, and there was a similar white cast encasing it.
“Oh,” said Cole when he saw Robert pulling a face, “Broken in a couple of places, I’m afraid, though they w
ere clean breaks; didn’t have to be pinned or anything. You should be back on your feet fairly soon.”
Robert pulled down his covers a little, saw that he was wearing torn pyjama bottoms, that his upper half was bandaged tight. Where there was flesh exposed, he’d also been stitched up. “Broken collar-bone and a couple of ribs as well. Still, you were lucky. We both were, when you think about it, compared with...” The medic’s eyes dipped.
Robert’s eyes caught sight of something on the bed with him, resting beside him. His pouch.
“Yeah, Jack wouldn’t let them take that away, said you weren’t to be separated. That it would help. Medicinal herbs or some bullshit. That right?”
“Some... something like that,” said Robert. It could definitely have been a lot worse if his link to Sherwood had been severed.
“Speak of the Devil,” said Cole, waving with his one good hand. “He’s never been far away these past few days while you’ve been out of it.”
Robert craned his neck to see his best friend standing in the doorway. The giant took his cap off as he entered, nodding a greeting. “Howdy,” he said.
“It’s good to see you,” said Robert.
“Same,” his friend replied, pulling up a chair. “How’re you feeling?”
“Like I’ve just gone ten rounds with the Hammer,” Robert said with a dry laugh, and started coughing. Jack was there immediately with a glass of water, urging Robert to take a few sips. How he felt was old. Very old. “How... How did they find us?” he asked eventually.
“Bit hard to miss the forest fire.” This was Cole. “Might as well have sent up a flare.”
“How... how many...” They knew what he was asking, who had survived the night? Both men’s eyes brushed the floor this time, but it was Jack who answered.
“Not many, aside from the three of us—and Azhar, of course. He’d survive anything, that guy. Barely a scratch on him, in fact. One of the NRI is still in a bad way, one of the locals is looking like he won’t make it through the next hour.”
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