Outplayed

by Hayley Osborn

  “I should have, because it needed to be said. And, so does this.” His words slurred again, and he wobbled so much I threw my other hand out to steady him. “You are more than capable of finding our friends and bringing them to Tuck and me. You’re not going to cower here on the side of the trail waiting for Gisborne to find you. All right?”

  I nodded. What choice did I have?

  “Good.” He blinked three times, like he was clearing his vision. “Now, get me on that horse before I pass out.”

  Rob wasn’t joking about passing out. Whatever strength he’d found to talk to me and then get onto the horse, left him the moment he was seated. He wobbled so much, Tuck had to grab hold of him as he climbed on behind.

  “You need to stop the bleeding.” I looked up at Tuck. The leg of Rob’s pants was wet with his blood.

  “I know.” Tuck’s reply was terse; he was as worried as I was. And that worried me all the more.

  “You need to make a tourniquet.” He stared blankly at me. “A bandage that you tie tightly up higher than the bleeding.”

  “Yes,” said Tuck, like he knew already.

  “And you need to clean it. The wound. Maybe with whiskey?” My mind was racing. “And use clean linen for bandages. Everything needs to be clean.” My words were getting faster and faster as I realized I wouldn’t be in control of Rob’s recovery. Infection was a killer in the twelfth century. I didn’t want him to die.

  Tuck’s reply was soft. Softer than I’d ever heard him speak. “It’s all right. I know what to do. I’ve done it before.”

  I glanced again at the blood on Rob’s leg, too scared to ask how often he’d dealt with wounds this bad.

  John and Miller were waiting at Black Hole. I’d been terrified for no reason. They’d packed up everyone’s gear and were ready to leave the moment I arrived. As we walked, I relayed the morning’s events. They listened in silence as if they already knew what I would tell them. They probably did. Tuck had sent me back to them alone, with a message to meet them at the apple grove. Combined with Rob’s scream when Gisborne’s sword hit him, it didn’t take much to guess what had happened.

  When I finished speaking, Miller nodded at my arm and said, “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s just a graze.” Gisborne’s sword had cut a slit in my tunic, right through to my skin. My blood had soaked through the surrounding tunic making it wet and cold. Something I hadn’t noticed until Miller reminded me of the cut.

  “You should bandage it. We’ve got a long walk ahead.” The bruises on Miller’s face were already turning from purple to yellow. It was good to hear him focusing on something else, even if he shouldn’t be worried for me.

  I nodded, taking the cloth he held out and winding it around my arm before following him along the trail toward the apple grove. I’d clean it properly once we were somewhere Gisborne couldn’t find us.

  Once, a long time ago, someone had built a home in the apple grove. No one lived here now, but a tiny hut stood in the center of the grove. After the caves we’d been sleeping in since I returned, this was practically luxury.

  The apple grove was Miller’s favorite place in the whole forest, and he’d talked about it non-stop while we walked. It probably helped put Rob further back in his mind, and it eased some of my worry to hear light in Miller’s voice after days of lifelessness.

  Gisborne’s horse, munching grass at the edge of the grove eased my worry further. They were here. Gisborne hadn’t captured them.

  Tuck strode outside when he heard our voices. The neck of his robe was dark with sweat and his forehead creased into a frown. “I need firewood.” The lack of pleasantries, or even a greeting, made me stride toward the little hut to check on Rob.

  John and Miller dropped their packs and retreated into the forest without another word.

  “How is he?” I asked to Tuck’s back. He’d turned back to the hut the moment John and Miller left.

  “See for yourself.”

  Rob sat with his legs out in front of him, his back resting against a wall that was cracked and badly in need of repair work. Beside him was a stone-lined fireplace that was cold and empty. There was no chimney, just a small hole in the roof—I really hoped there was no rain on the way.

  Around Rob’s leg was a tourniquet, as well as another blood-smeared bandage covering the wound. A pile of linen, also covered in blood, lay beside him. The corners of his lips were pinched with pain, and he focused on an invisible spot beside his feet we entered.

  I turned to Tuck. “I thought you knew how to fix him.”

  “I do,” snarled Tuck.

  “Well…?” Because he wasn’t fixed. Rob was no different to how he’d been a couple of hours ago when I last saw him.

  “We haven’t been here long. We couldn’t ride fast because Rob was having trouble staying on the horse.”

  That would explain the empty fireplace and Rob’s bleeding wound.

  Tuck ran his hands down his face, his voice softer when he spoke again. “I need to cauterize it, but every time I go in search of firewood, he tries to follow. Makes the wound start bleeding again.”

  “Got to look out for you in case Gisborne followed.” Rob’s words slurred together, worse than he’d slurred earlier.

  I glanced at Tuck. There was no way Rob could look out for anyone in his present state. I was surprised he could walk. He must be delirious with pain.

  Tuck shook his head, dropping his voice. “If I don’t do this soon, things are going to get bad. I’m pretty sure it’s just the pain bothering him at the moment, but the longer I leave it, the greater risk of infection.”

  Tuck didn’t have to tell me. I understood all too well. I started for the door. “I’ll go help them with the firewood.”

  He stopped me with a hand on my arm. “If Rob wouldn’t let me go on my own, he’s not going to let you.”

  I glanced at Rob. In his pain-riddled state, he mustn’t have realized Miller and John were here and already searching for firewood.

  The hut was well set up with six crudely formed hammocks strung side-by-side between poles, and pots and pans on a shelf above the fire. I picked up one of the pots. “I’ll go and get some water to boil.” At least that would make me feel like I was helping. And the river was close enough to see from the hut, just a short walk through the apple grove.

  Tuck nodded in agreement.

  By the time I got back, John and Miller had returned, dumped their arms full of wood and left again. Tuck was coaxing a flame from the tinder, a large flat-bladed knife lying beside the fire.

  Rob’s eyes were closed, his hands balled into fists.

  “How do we do this?” I whispered to Tuck.

  Tuck glanced over his shoulder at Rob. “It’s going to hurt like hell, so I might need you to hold him down. If the others aren’t back, that is.”

  Once the fire was roaring, and the water in the pot had boiled, I cleaned Rob’s wound. It was a straight cut, and so far, showed no sign of infection. No matter how gentle I was, his body stiffened with pain whenever I touched him. I’d never been so glad to see Miller and John arrive back—we would all help Rob through the next part.

  Tuck pulled the knife from the fire. In silence the rest of us took hold of Rob—Miller gripping his ankle, John his hips and me his chest. Without a word of warning, Tuck pressed the knife to the wound. Rob bucked and screamed, and although the sound tore at my heart, it was short. I glanced at Tuck. He nodded.

  It was done.

  I sighed, feeling like I could breathe for the first time in hours. I bandaged the wound, and John and Tuck moved Rob onto the hammock closest to the fire.

  John, with a few quiet words to Tuck, walked out the door with his pack on his back. He didn’t say where he was going, and no one seemed to have the energy to ask.

  I sat on the dirt floor next to Tuck in front of the fire, watching Rob doze. “He’ll be okay now?”

  “Hopefully.” Tuck
shrugged. “Won’t know until morning.”

  I kept my eyes on Rob, waiting to see his chest rise and fall, the stress of the day catching up with me. A tear escaped down my cheek. He couldn’t die. There were things I needed to tell him.

  “He’s alive, Maryanne. There’s no infection. That’s all we can hope for at the moment,” Tuck said, gently. Probably the kindest tone he’d ever used with me.

  Rob was no longer pale, and the bleeding had stopped. Still, I wasn’t taking any chances. “I’ll watch him for a bit if you want some fresh air.”

  Our peace of mind didn’t last long. Minutes after we’d all settled into our hammocks for the night, Rob cried out. I slid out of my hammock, the ground freezing against my bare feet, and ran the few steps to Rob, my way lit by the glowing coals of the fire. Tuck was faster, beating me there.

  He swore under his breath.

  I took Rob’s hand, then touched my fingers to Rob’s forehead.

  Fever.

  Tuck unwrapped the bandages around his wound. Even in the dim light, it was red and angry. He swore again.

  “Miller,” Tuck called. “We need to get…” Tuck stopped himself and I knew what he’d been about to say.

  A healer.

  We needed a healer because Rob’s wound was infected.

  I shook my head. We weren’t sending Miller. Not after what happened last time. Tuck caught my eye, then spoke almost to himself. “I’ll go.”

  I released Rob’s hand and nodded toward the fire. “Miller. Bring me that pot of water.” I pulled my first aid kit from my pack and wet one of the bandages in it, pressing it to Rob’s head.

  He growled and pushed it away, curling into a ball without opening his eyes. “Cold. Too cold.”

  Tuck pulled on his boots, watching Rob with a set jaw.

  I didn’t want to risk Tuck’s life by sending him out into the forest alone in search of a healer. And I didn’t want Rob to die. “Wait,” I called. “I can help him.”

  Tuck’s eyebrows lifted. “Cool cloths won’t fix that infection. A healer’s the only one who could. And even then…” He shook his head. A healer might not save Rob, either.

  I riffled through my first aid kit. “No, but these will.”

  Carrie had insisted I bring antibiotics in my first aid kit. We didn’t know any doctors personally and telling a medical professional I was about to travel eight hundred years back in time would probably have gotten me a different type of medication. Instead, she made an appointment with our family doctor, made him believe she had a urine infection—I had no idea how she pulled it off—and he gave her a course of antibiotics. Which she gave to me.

  One course. Five tablets.

  Make sure you don’t die, she’d said as she handed them to me. I hoped she’d agree that keeping Rob alive was just as important.

  I held up the tablets, and Tuck scoffed.

  “I don’t know what they are, but I know they can’t help my friend.”

  “Please, Tuck.” I tipped a tablet from the container into my palm. “Just give me this chance.” I met his eyes. “You know I’m going to do everything I can to save him. This is what we use for infection in my time.”

  Tuck blew out a breath and walked over to the fire, throwing a log on and raking up the coals. “If he dies…”

  “He won’t.” I’d never hoped more that I was right.

  SIXTEEN

  I woke, three nights later, down at the river. My feet were soaking in the icy water and my dripping clothes stuck to my body. I didn’t remember coming down here. Must have sleepwalked. And taken a sleep swim. I’d been dreaming of Rob dying with an arrow in his back over and again, I remembered that much. At least swimming made the dream disappear.

  Shivering, I trudged back to the hut, kicking my saturated boots off at the door. I glanced at Rob, sleeping in his hammock by the fire, his face peaceful and relaxed. His fever had broken, and his wound was no longer red and puffy. He was through the worst thanks to Carrie, though he’d done nothing but sleep these past few days.

  I threw another log on the fire and watched the flames dance and catch on the dry bark, the warmth soothing on my cold skin. Shaking off my wet clothes, I lay them in front of the fire to dry. I wrapped my cloak around my shoulders—the cold fabric making my teeth chatter—and moved closer to the flames to warm up and lie down.

  I hadn’t even closed my eyes before the dreams returned. This time Rob’s death was interspersed with the villagers from Oxham, the letter G carved into their faces, showing off their injuries. Eye sockets without eyes, mouths without tongues, hands without fingers. And always Gisborne’s laughter.

  “Maryanne. Maryanne. Maryanne!” The villagers knew my name, called it over and over. They wanted my attention; I wanted to look away. The dream wouldn’t allow it. I was stuck here. Trapped, looking at their injuries or watching Rob die.

  I fought against it, finally dragging my eyes open to find Rob awake and sitting on the ground beside me, his injured leg sticking out in front of him. His hand was on my forehead and he stared at me with frown lines between his eyes. “Maryanne? Are you okay?”

  I nodded and pushed myself up to sit. “I’m fine. How are you?” It was good to see him awake.

  The frown didn’t move as he watched me before finally nodding. “I’m feeling okay. Sore, but okay. Unlike you, I think.”

  Miller sprinted into the hut, a pot in his hand. “I got the water you asked for. Does she need cold cloths, like you did, Rob?”

  “I’m fine, Miller.” I rubbed my eyes. I wouldn’t admit it, but I still felt like I was inside my dreams. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Rob touched his palm to my forehead again. “You’re not fine. You have a fever.”

  A laugh bubbled up from my chest. That was absurd. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” Apart from the dreams.

  Rob raised an eyebrow. “Really? So how do you explain your pants and tunic?” He nodded to them, lying in front of the fire.

  I folded my cloak tighter around my body. Now he mentioned it, I did recall swimming in the river then removing my clothes. Which meant I was close to naked beneath the cloak. “I was hot. I went for a swim.” I felt a little warm now, especially when reminded of my nakedness.

  Rob beckoned Miller closer. “You’re not fine, Maryanne. But you will be soon. Put your clothes on so you can take off your cloak. We need to cool you down.”

  I shook my head. It was sore and heavy. I needed a drink, but apart from that, I was okay. “How’s your leg?”

  Rob looked pointedly at my clothes then gingerly turned away. His message was clear. He’d talk once I was dressed.

  I pulled on my clothes – now mostly dry. My arm was tender where Gisborne’s sword had nicked me. I’d cleaned it each day since we arrived at the apple grove, as well as smearing it with anti-bacterial cream from my first aid kit. It was nothing to worry about. A scratch compared to the wound he’d given Rob. “Dressed,” I said.

  “Good. Miller, wet some linen and wrap her in it. It should cool her down.”

  “No, Miller, don’t.” I didn’t need their fussing. Apart from a slight headache and a sore arm, and feeling sluggish when I moved, there was nothing wrong with me. If they’d let me lie down and sleep like I wanted to, my headache would be gone by morning.

  “Your…arm.” Miller pointed. “It’s bleeding.”

  I looked down. The sleeve on my tunic was wet and red. I must have removed the bandage when I went swimming. As if reminded the wound existed, my arm began to throb.

  Rob shuffled closer. “Jesus, Maryanne. What happened?” He took my arm.

  I pulled away. “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t think you are. Did Gisborne do this?” He rolled up my sleeve, easing it gently over the wound. Then he let out a quiet curse. “Okay. Change of plan. Miller, wake Tuck. Tell him he needs to go get the healer from Mansfield and bring him here. And bring me the whiskey bottle.”
He cursed again.

  I glanced at my arm. It was throbbing badly now.

  Gisborne’s sword had slashed from one side all the way to the other. The cut wasn’t deep. But it was puffy, and the edges were red and angry. I knew what that meant, and it terrified me. Especially because there were no more antibiotics in my first aid kit. “It’s infected.” I shook my head. How had this happened? I’d been careful with it, cleaned it each day.

  Rob’s face was grim as he took the whiskey bottle from Miller. “This might hurt.” He took hold of my upper arm and poured the alcohol over it.

  I bit back the scream that wanted to tear from my body. “Ouch,” I whispered. Understatement.

  “Sorry. I need to do that again.” Rob glanced at Miller. “Miller, can you bring me the pills Maryanne gave me. There’s still a couple left, and she needs them more than me.”

  I shook my head. “You have to finish them. Or your infection will come back. Anyway, there’s not enough left to fix me.”

  After that, things grew hazy. I was cold again, but Rob insisted on draping me with freezing, wet linen. I protested, but he did it anyway. I remember curling up into a ball and shaking so hard the world distorted and I had to close my eyes. All that did was give the dreams an opening to return, and I watched Rob die, again and again.

  If the dreams allowed it and I opened my eyes, Rob was always right there beside me, his face pale and lips pressed into a thin line as he held my hand, his injured leg propped out in front of him. He kept telling me the healer would be here soon, and I would be fine.

  It was a lie. There was nothing a healer could do to fix my infected arm, or stop the infection spreading. “I don’t want to die,” I rasped.

  “Good,” said Rob, dribbling some water into my mouth. “Because I’m not planning on letting you. There’s a carriage coming through the forest in a day or two, carrying more gold than we’ve ever seen. I’m going to need your help to stop it.”

  That carriage would have to come and go. Neither Rob nor I would be in any state to be there. Maybe I wouldn’t ever stop a carriage again.