by Wesley Brown
“I want them!” Reaper screamed at Blink, who flinched from the surprise of this sudden outburst. “You said I would become greater and stronger.”
“You will—you are. I don’t understand,” Blink said quickly.
“I want it right now,” Reaper demanded. “You destroyed that ship; it was consumed in fire. The sound alone felt powerful, and I want that,” Reaper’s irises flashed silver for only a second, but a second to Blink could be a very long time. The very instant that Blink noticed the change, he stopped time, leaving his boat held perfectly still by the water. Drops of water and ocean mist stood still as Blink leaned forward. He looked into Reaper’s eyes from several angles. There was no other color—only silver. It was brightest around his pupils. Blink got close to Reaper, but nothing changed. He sat back down and let time go on.
“Look, I can promise you things, but I’m not going to tell you that much about the future. You will get more power, but you shouldn’t be trying so hard to get it,” Blink said. Reaper’s eyes turned back.
“Why?” Reaper asked calmly.
“The older me who sent the eyepiece to me—the guy who, according to what I know, fought Specter in front of you—told me things about his future.”
“What things?”
“Well it’s just… it seems that one of the many ways the world ends is because you chase after power like some kind of addiction,” Blink said with a somber tone.
“You know me. I will not be destroying the world,” Reaper said.
“Yeah, I do know you,” Blink said under his breath.
They traveled up the Humber, and Blink dropped Reaper off. They parted on less than good terms. Reaper took the box with his new suit in it. When Blink started to suggest what he could do with the box, Reaper cut him off, then left. Blink clenched his jaw and went back to the future. He spent some quality time stress-exercising.
Once more, Reaper embarked on foot to meet his target. On his way south toward Windsor Forest, he made a few stops around Nottingham Forest. Tales of the local hero Robin Hood were the thing of legend—even to Reaper, with the many things he had faced and the life times he had lived.
Despite all the residents knowing his story, not one of the people he questioned knew where to find Robin Hood. Reaper unknowingly caught a lucky break when Robin crept by and overheard him, shrouded under a dirty brown cloak. The next day, when Reaper was asking around, Robin stalked him from the trees above. He squinted down at Reaper. The woman that Reaper was talking to left him with his head down in dismay. Suddenly, without warning, Robin shot an arrow past Reaper’s hood, burying the arrowhead the soil. Reaper turned with alarm and revealed his falchion. The man above him was perched on a thick tree branch, his bow tense. Reaper examined the man, taking in his tattered, dirty clothes. The cloth might once have been Lincoln green, but was now so filthy that it was practically brown. The archer’s pointed, disheveled beard was light brown but streaked with silver, as was the mess of hair hidden under his hood. His tanned skin was wrinkled, and the bags under his eyes riddled with crow’s feet. All that aside, there was still one feature that stood out to Reaper: Robin’s dark, deep blue eyes could be considered a weapon all by themselves.
“You may not have noticed, my friend, but I have the range,” Robin said.
I told Blink the range mattered, Reaper thought to himself.
“You appear partial to my wardrobe,” Robin said.
“This was a gift,” Reaper said.
“Why have you been searching for me? I disbanded my Merry Companions years ago.”
“Merry Companions?” Reaper asked. “I was sent to find you, but I assure you my wardrobe was not my design.”
“Then whose? Who sent you to find me?” Robin pulled back his bow string. Reaper thought for a moment, searching quickly for a believable answer.
“I have a friend—he’s a seer,” Reaper said. “He gave me the suit and told me to find you. You and I are to battle with a monster that dwells within Windsor Forest.”
“A seer?” Robin asked. Reaper nodded, and Robin climbed down. “You have my interest, but I want proof. Your seer failed to describe me to you.”
“I doubt you will find any better than him,” Reaper said.
“You hold this man in high regard,” Robin said.
“Oh, he is a boy—hardly a man.”
“A boy? You want my allegiance, and your almost-reliable seer is a mere child?” Robin asked. “I want to speak with him.”
“He finds me,” Reaper said. “I have no way of getting his attention.”
“Then you have no way of swaying me to your cause.” Robin said, getting very close to Reaper’s face. “I like the hood. It looks good on you.” He turned away.
“Wait,” Reaper said.
“There is nothing you could say or do that would convince me to stay and indulge a second more of this absurdity,” Robin said, waving his hand in the air without even looking back. “You simply have nothing to offer me.”
“Shoot me,” Reaper called to Robin, who promptly stopped and turned.
“What was that?” Robin asked, sincerely curious.
“Shoot me with one of your arrows.”
“I suppose I can indulge you a second more. In a few more seconds, you will be dead anyway.” Robin readied an arrow and pulled back. “Would you like a moment to make your peace?”
“I made my peace,” Reaper said, and Robin released the arrow. It cut through the wind as it flew toward Reaper’s chest and struck him directly in the heart. The strike and location pushed Reaper back. He turned to his left and bent down slightly at his middle. He took a breath, then faced forward, standing straight as the arrow in his heart. Robin’s mouth slowly opened in awe.
“Who… what are you?” Robin asked, nearly hysterical at the sight. Reaper walked toward him and yanked the arrow out of his chest.
“Will you be wanting this back?” Reaper asked. Robin’s blue eyes focused on the bloody arrowhead. He took the arrow back from Reaper.
“Your seer—he is not the only one with incredible abilities,” Robin said.
“No, he is not.”
“I help you, you tell me more. These are my terms,” Robin said.
“I accept.”
“Windsor is some distance from here. Do you need anything before going?”
“No, I do not need much.”
“Then, it is this way,” Robin said and began walking south.
They walked far in that first day, but Robin was getting old and his body had been corroded over the years of his active heroism. Then there was the simple matter that he was still human. Even if Robin were young and in his prime, he would eventually need rest. Reaper took this rare opportunity to satisfy his own desire to sleep. It had been some time since even his last nap. He dreamed that night, and it was no sweet dream. Instead, he was visited by a nightmare. A hellish beast haunted him. Specter and his horse Inferno tormented Reaper by laying waste to thousands of innocent helpless people, utterly powerless to defend themselves. Reaper woke and drew his falchion quickly, as if he were already in battle.
“My Reaper, there is sweat on your forehead. Bad dreams?” The real Specter was there, standing over Robin.
“Get away from him,” Reaper said as he rose to his feet.
“Would he be surprised if he woke and saw my face? You did tell him about me?” Specter asked, knowing the answer full well. “Do not fear—he will not be waking now, and he is not dead. When he does wake, he will sweat like you.”
“What did you do to us?” Reaper’s powder-keg temper had an especially short fuse at the moment.
“Just playing with your dreams,” Specter said. “I like that you form these strong bonds with people you have only just met.”
“Why are you here?” Reaper asked, his fuse growing shorter.
“You did tell him about Herne, yes?” Specter asked. “At least you told him what the time-traveler has told you.”
“I do not know what ga
me you are playing here, but your efforts will be fruitless,” Reaper said.
“I am working the soil.” Specter squinted and shifted his head. “Herne—he is spectral. He can pass through physical matter. He has a bow that does not need arrows and grants him the ability to speak to and control the minds of animals.”
“How is that possible? Why would you freely provide this knowledge?” Reaper asked.
“I made his bow; what I make does what I made it to do,” Specter said. “And you are helping me far more than I am helping you.”
“Be direct with me, demon, or we will not face him,” Reaper ordered.
“And risk destroying your precious future?” Specter said. “You need to kill him to act out your heroic duties, and this time, that means aiding me as well. Will you risk the future simply to defy me?”
Reaper frowned. “How do I beat him?”
The question made Specter smile. “He can only pass through objects under shadows or complete darkness. Lure him into the light, and you can kill him.”
“Sounds familiar,” Reaper snapped.
Specter leered with taunting pleasure. “Never say I was never there for you. The time-traveler did not supply you with this; I did.”
“Tell me what you want with Herne,” Reaper said.
“I employed him, and he has not lived up to my standers.”
“I broke away from being your puppet-destroyer, so you would force me to be your puppet-assassin,” Reaper said in a monotone.
“You have yet to realize that you are still my destroyer,” Specter said as his portal appeared and he walked into it. Reaper sheathed his blade and went to Robin, shaking him when speaking failed to wake him. Robin jolted awake and punched Reaper in the face.
“My friend, I apologize,” Robin said once he realized what he’d done.
“Nightmare?” Reaper asked.
“Indeed,” Robin answered. “Is it this Herne we seek, or coincidence?”
“Neither—the ghost that follows me,” Reaper answered. “He preys on the ones I care about.”
“He showed you your greatest fear?” Robin asked.
Reaper nodded. “I assume the same for you.”
“In a sense. Though my worst fears were realized years ago,” Robin said. Suddenly it hit Reaper—it was as if he were starring in a mirror of his past self.
“Your wife… she was murdered?” Reaper asked. Robin looked away and strapped on his sword and quiver.
“Yes. I could not save her.” Robin’s voice was colder than the early morning air. “I had never faced a threat I could not save her and my boy from.” Robin took several slow breaths. “It was the first loss I’d suffered since I donned my hood. It was also the last. This bow… it was a gift from my Marian. Now it is splintered and cracked.”
“Robin, I am sorry for your loss,” Reaper said. Robin turned and looked Reaper in the eye with tears in his.
“It should have been me. I should have died for them; I should have fought harder to protect them. If I had the chance, I would trade my life in place of theirs,” Robin said. “That day, every aspect of my life changed. My Marian died with my son, and I disbanded my Merry Companions and lived in solitude.”
“I know all too well your pain,” Reaper said. “My wife and son died in front of me. The monster responsible then took my adopted son from me. To this day he taunts me, knowing I cannot defeat him.”
“We are two of a kind, it would seem.”
Reaper and Robin left their campsite to continue south toward Windsor Forest. It took another couple of days because of Robin’s age and mortality. He frequently needed to stop to relieve or refuel himself. Rest was greatly required for him, as he feared that he may not have the strength to aid Reaper in the coming struggle. Reaper had become consumed with the weapon time had made him. He forgot some days that he no longer needed rest or food. In fact, one of the few things he still had in common with mortal men was the need to release waste after eating. It is uncertain at what length, but it is for sure that Reaper has gone extended amounts of time having never ate. By extension of not having intake of food there would be also segments of time when he lacked any need to relieve himself. So stopping for the old mortal left Reaper frustrated.
The morning air was crisp against their faces as they sought out Herne. Their breath turned to fog like that which surrounded them. In his own forest, they searched. The birds had reported to Herne, and their stories of the two men whose attire was similar to his own fascinated the emerald-clad recluse. As they sought him out, he ventured toward them. Finally, when Reaper and Robin walked through a short clearing, they spotted a pair of glowing eyes in the distance.
This was Herne; Reaper was sure of it. His orange retinas glowed like a canine’s, and his green hooded cloak came into view as he stepped out of the shadows. Through the fabric over his head sprouted two magnificent antlers. He was young—far younger than they’d expected, with a brush of stubble on his sharp jawline and an unruly crop of hair.
“Herne the Hunter, I presume,” Robin said. He looked at Reaper. “The horns?” Reaper shook his head.
“You are rank,” Herne said. His voice was steady, but something in his tone made him sound young.
“I think he means you,” Robin said, leaning towards Reaper.
“He said you. I am certain that you fall under you,” Reaper said.
“You stink like the Specter,” Herne said.
Reaper looked at Robin. “He means me.”
“He sent you to bring me back?” Herne asked.
“Specter did not send me, and I am not taking you anywhere,” Reaper said.
“You plan to kill me,” Herne said.
“Yes, but not for Specter.”
“He is only a boy,” Robin whispered to Reaper.
“This is the mission,” Reaper said.
“If Specter has no gain from my death, very well,” Herne said.
“Y-you are surrendering?” Reaper asked.
“No,” Herne said. “Only stating that if you can kill me, I can die knowing he lost.”
“I cannot promise that he will not gain in some way. Specter is resourceful,” Reaper said.
“Then I will not lay down my bow,” Herne said, and revealed his long bow. He pulled the string back as he raised it. A spiraling green bolt energized in the place of an arrow. Without hesitation, Robin Hood readied an arrow. “You have no place here, archer. Leave.”
“I know where my place is,” Robin said.
“Wait,” Reaper said a second too late. Robin had already released his arrow, which passed straight through Herne.
“What?” Robin gasped, shocked that he’d missed. Herne released his bolt, aimed at Robin. Reaper pushed Robin down and took the hit instead. The bolt pierced Reaper’s diaphragm. The force threw Reaper into a tree, holding him there. It was a strange pain—the sensations coming from the bolt felt like they should be paralyzing him. It seemed impossible for Reaper to pull the bolt from his abdomen. He looked up, fearing for Robin.
Robin began firing one arrow after another at Herne. Each one passed through Herne. Robin moved closer to Herne, who emerged from the shadowy place where he lurked. As Robin fired his arrows, Herne fired his bolts. These magical bolts vaporized the arrows as they flew toward Robin. Speeding up and down, Robin dodged these attacks. He looked to Reaper and saw him struggling to be released. He ran to Reaper, and without a concern for himself, leaped up on the side of the bolt that stapled Reaper.
Robin fell into the bolt, knocking it out and freeing Reaper. A chilly breeze carried fear past Herne’s whiskers. Reaper unsheathed his falchion and went at Herne. Robin called out to Reaper as he tossed his own falchion to Reaper. With a falchion in each hand, Reaper began his assault. Herne came out of the shadows. Reaper swung upward, but Herne blocked this and the following strike with the metal bow. Reaper continued in this pattern. Herne ducked and swept Reaper’s left leg with his longbow. With Reaper down on one knee, Herne readied a bolt
aimed down at Reaper’s head. Reaper rolled to his right at the very moment that Robin jumped at Herne from a charge. Robin bounded over Reaper, and his knee made hard contact with Herne’s jaw. Herne fell back, releasing the bolt randomly into the trees. Robin landed in a roll. Reaper threw Robin his falchion, and the two of them attacked Herne. The ability to fend off the two threats was impressive.
Herne fired a small bolt that struck Reaper’s foot. With this, Herne was able to push Reaper back. As Reaper stumbled and fell, Herne pivoted toward Robin. Herne forced the falchion away from Robin with one strong swing. Robin dodged the following blow with a backflip. He landed in a crouching position and readied an arrow. Herne had just let go, and a green bolt flew at Robin. The magic energy impacted the bow and arrow. The bow was decimated, as was Robin’s spirit. He held a piece of his bow in his left hand. Just before Herne could kill Robin, Reaper hopped onto Herne’s back, knocking the longbow down. Herne thrashed his head, the antler cutting Reaper. Through this, Reaper kept his grip. Reaper’s plan was to choke Herne, then kill him. This plan was working well until the moment when a jagged point went up into Reaper’s eye socket. The antler got stuck inside the socket as he continued to thrash, trying to get free. Reaper grunted with agony. Without realizing it, Reaper allowed himself to be moved into the shadows. There, Herne slipped away from Reaper’s grasp. Reaper held his eye, and by the time he looked up, Herne had him by the throat. Herne backed Reaper into a tree.
“In the shadows, I can do more than pass through solid matter. I can move the things I touch through them as well,” Herne said. “Or leave them inside.” *265 [Herne moved Reaper so that his chest had a tree through it and his feet dangled a foot off of the ground. Herne was satisfied with what he had done. He turned to retrieve his bow, pleased with his good work. It dawned on him that he’d forgotten something. He let himself get so focused on Reaper as the primary threat that he forgot about Robin. A magical green energy bolt was formed at the will of the greatest archer of the era. Robin fired the first one to lure Herne.]