Hooded Man

by Paul Kane

  Both pieces of wood and metal twirled in the distance between the men, heading directly for each other. They met almost head on, but it was the stranger’s that had the advantage while Robert’s suddenly flew way off course. The stranger’s projectile struck Robert’s left shoulder, lifting him up off his feet and back into one of the oaks he’d once considered his only true friends. The arrow carried on through the shoulder and into the wood behind, pinning Robert there.

  “Dad!” screamed Mark, struggling to free himself from his bonds without success.

  Robert dropped his weapon, writhing in agony. It was now that he knew exactly what had happened – somehow this man in front of him had stolen his advantage. Taken away the protection the forest once afforded him, leaving him defenceless against this new threat.

  “How?” shouted Robert. “How have you done this?”

  He could tell by the Native American’s face that he understood the question. But he didn’t answer. Just walked over with a satisfied smile on his face – so slight it would have been missed by the average person – and stood in front of his impaled prey.

  Robert reached for his sword, but the stranger grabbed his wrist, pulling the length of metal out of its sheath and flinging it away. There was a part of Robert that wondered if it was because of his exhaustion, the burns he’d suffered at the Widow’s hands. But he’d endured more in a shorter period before – and it wasn’t just the fact that he was getting older, either. This man had taken something from him, of that Robert was certain. Not just the dreams, but the almost superhuman strength he apparently drew from this place. If he’d faced the Tsar’s men at this point and fallen in battle, there was no way he’d be getting back up to finish what he’d started. If the stranger chose to end this now, then Robert – the Hooded Man – would be dead. No two ways about it.

  But that wasn’t his intent. It never had been his intent. The stranger examined the arrow, nodding. “Clean wound. You’ll live.”

  “D-do what you want with me,” Robert said, breath coming in sharp gasps. “But let my boy go.”

  The stranger regarded him with those dark eyes. “That was always my intent. This was never about him.”

  That’s what this man had in mind all along. Like him, he was a hunter. Mark had been the bait, obviously, but this stranger had never wanted to kill either Robert or his son. Especially not the latter.

  “Then what’s this about?” asked Robert.

  “That is not for me to tell, but rest assured, I will free your son now I have you. There is nothing he can do to stop me, anyway.”

  “Stop you from what? Who are you working with: Tanek? The Germans?” Robert’s questions went unanswered once more.

  “It is time,” said the stranger, then he took something out of a pouch at his belt. He emptied the contents – which looked like tobacco – into the palm of one hand, then grabbed Robert’s chin with the other. Not again, he thought. I’m not being drugged again!

  “This will help the journey pass more quickly,” the stranger told him, forcing the weed into his mouth. Robert spat the first lot back into the stranger’s face, but he just squeezed harder on his cheeks, forcing more into Robert’s mouth, clamping his mouth shut. Though he didn’t chew, Robert felt some of it slide down his throat. The weird concoction was dissolving on his tongue. In his own way, this stranger was just as much a magician as the Widow.

  No, have to fight it, Have to –

  But already the stuff was having an effect. The stranger’s face looked to be melting, the whole scene falling away in front of Robert. He tried to look over at Mark, but couldn’t focus.

  “Sleep now,” he heard the stranger say.

  It seemed like such a good idea. He was exhausted, and it had been a gruelling couple of days. Some sleep would do him the world of good.

  Robert felt his eyelids closing, then there was blackness.

  But there was also the total absence of dreams.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  SHE’D BEEN GONE for hours now. And while they all knew the trip to Nottingham was quite a trek, things were growing desperate at New Hope.

  People were sick of the periodic attacks on the walls since Tanek arrived – scared that at any moment, the Germans would just come crashing inside – and their friends were dying. Graham and Andy weren’t doing well at all, in spite of Jennings’ best efforts. One of the bolts Andy caught had caused internal injuries that the doctor couldn’t do much about. “We need to get him somewhere we can operate. Otherwise I don’t think he’s going to make it.”

  Gwen had gone to see Andy, at his request, and they’d talked: about the old days, about what had happened to New Hope, about the direction she was taking. “Y-you have to promise me,” Andy said, “that you’ll turn away from this course you’re on.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she’d told him, avoiding his eyes.

  “There’s so much hatred inside you now, Gwen. This...” Andy winced. “This isn’t what Clive would have wanted for you.”

  She’d said nothing. She wanted to get up and leave when he started talking like that, but she owed him her time. Owed him the opportunity to get whatever this problem was that he had with her off his chest. Regardless of how things were with them now, Andy had done a lot for New Hope. He’d been there with her and Clive right from the beginning, just like Darryl, just like Graham. And this might be the last chance he’d get to say his piece.

  He’d reached out for her hand and she’d let him take it. “You promise me, Gwen. Don’t let it eat you up inside. I’m worried about you.”

  “You don’t need to be. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not,” Andy insisted. “You –”

  “Listen, I should go and see what’s happening out there. You get some rest.” Gwen removed her hand and let Andy’s flop back down on the bed. “Look after him,” she told Sat, the doctor’s assistant, as she left. She looked back just once to see Andy staring at her. He didn’t believe for one minute she was all right, but she didn’t know what to do to convince him. More than ever, she felt guilty for striking him when they were interrogating the prisoner. And, in a way, Andy had been right; they’d gotten nothing more out of the man, even after she’d gone back again.

  During the last session overnight, she’d dismissed the guards keeping an eye on him and got down to business. “Just you and me now,” she’d told the soldier. “I know who your boss is, outside.”

  The man had laughed. “You know nothing.” That earned him a punch in the face which broke his nose. He hadn’t been laughing then.

  “Me and him go back quite a way, did you know that?” Gwen said. “There’s not much love lost between us.”

  “Go to Hell, hure!”

  “You first, fucker!” She’d kicked him hard in the side, where his injuries were, and smiled as he’d howled in pain.

  They’d gone on like this for about an hour, until Gwen was satisfied she’d get no new information. In the end she’d wound up kicking the chair over, placing her foot on his windpipe and threatening to crush it just to try and get some answers. “Why does he want my son?” she’d spat into the German’s face. He’d remained silent, either not willing to say or because he didn’t know.

  Gwen left the room, calling the guards back in and giving them specific orders not to fetch Jeffreys when they saw the state of the prisoner. “We might still be able to use him if push comes to shove, but it won’t matter what condition he’s in. He’s alive, that’s good enough.”

  Was there a part of her that connected Andy’s words with her actions? No, she felt them entirely justified. She was protecting her village, protecting her son at all costs.

  When she looked into the faces of those villagers, however, she didn’t think that they felt the same. Yes, they wanted to keep this place safe, but she wasn’t convinced they wouldn’t just fling Clive Jr over the wall to save themselves. She’d thought about telling them: “I know Tanek. He’ll kill you all anywa
y, then, just for fun. The only thing keeping you alive right now in fact is that he wants my son and daren’t risk storming in and harming him.” But they wouldn’t have listened. She’d need to keep a close eye on them, especially when it all hit the fan. Darryl was still the only one she trusted to keep watch over her child, and she was pleased to see he’d almost fully recovered from giving his blood to the German.

  Gwen had been on her way from seeing Andy when she heard her name being called. “Come quickly,” came the cry, and when Gwen reached the part of the wall it had originated from, she got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was the section directly overlooking the opening of their tunnel’s hidden trap door. The man who’d called her across – Henry Collins, a middle-aged ex-veterinarian who helped look after their livestock – was crouching, holding his rifle and jabbing his finger in the direction of the secret entrance. Gwen climbed the ladder to join him, not liking the stern look on his face.

  “What is it?”

  “See for yourself,” he told her, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand.

  Gwen peeked out through the gap, and spotted it instantly. A group of German soldiers at the opening. They’d uncovered the camouflage Karen had replaced and were pointing down at the door. One was running some kind of wire from it.

  “They’re getting ready to blow it,” Gwen said.

  Henry nodded. “Bingo. And guess where they’re going once they have.”

  Up the tunnel and into this damned compound. How had they found out about the door in the first place? Must have been Karen, the stupid idiot! Someone must have seen her. Or maybe the Germans had just stumbled on it by accident? Gwen hoped that was the case, because if anyone had seen Karen then it meant she’d either been followed, or killed, or both. In spite of herself, the first thing Gwen found herself thinking was not about Karen’s death, but that they shouldn’t rely on any help from the castle now.

  More important even than that, their enemies were about to step the siege up a notch. If the people of New Hope weren’t going to give them what they wanted, their enemies had just discovered a way to come inside and get it for themselves.

  TANEK WAS HAPPY.

  For the first time in a long while, he was really, truly happy. And he was never happy. It didn’t happen. There was always something that came along to balls things up. Not this time. Luck was on their side for a change.

  Even before they’d made arrangements to begin the next phase of this campaign, they’d been given an unexpected break. Determined to get to the bottom of how his man was snatched, Tanek had ordered a thorough – if covert – search of the perimeter. It was then that they’d discovered the trap door. It hadn’t been concealed properly, and was almost definitely the way they’d snuck in and out. It could have been used to go and fetch help; Tanek had to move now. They’d forced his hand. But they’d also given him the perfect way to gain entrance.

  And while the villagers were dealing with German soldiers coming up through that tunnel into New Hope, Tanek and his team would concentrate on breaking in through the front door, sealing this locality’s fate. Once they were inside, they’d see just how fast the woman and her child were given up.

  That moment had now come, his men preparing to blow the lid on that secret door. Tanek felt satisfied this was going to end well.

  But more than anything else, he was looking forward to seeing De Falaise’s woman again.

  They still had unfinished business.

  GWEN HAD POSTED at least three people on the tunnel door in the village grounds. Like Karen before them, they had orders to shoot whatever came through that didn’t look like one of theirs. The only person out there was Karen, and no reports of her return had been made, more’s the pity. Even if she had come back alone, then she wouldn’t be able to get past the Germans to crawl through the tunnel.

  “Chances are it’ll be unfriendlies,” she warned. “Don’t give them the chance to fire on you first.”

  In the meantime, Gwen had gathered the rest of the villagers and handed out weapons to anyone who wasn’t yet armed. Whether they’d have enough firepower was another matter, but they’d bloody well try to fight those bastards off. Gwen would, at any rate – she still wasn’t sure about some of her fellow villagers. Would they turn their guns on her to hand over Clive Jr? Would she have to shoot the very people she’d been trying to look after all these months? People she’d lived alongside, fought alongside?

  She’d find out soon enough, because the word came down from Henry that the hatch door had been breached and men were climbing inside the tunnel. Gwen made sure Darryl was extremely well armed – a rifle, a shotgun and two pistols – and told him to stand guard over both her house and Clive Jr, while she waited out in the street. It was the longest wait she’d ever endured; even those hours back at the castle when she’d been De Falaise’s prisoner hadn’t been as bad as this.

  Gwen shook her head; such thoughts made her angry, made her want to put a bullet in every one of those men invading her home, and distracted her at a time when she needed to be focused. She gripped her Colt Commando rifle, holding it across her chest like a shield.

  Although they were expecting something to happen, the loud bang still came as a shock. But what happened next, none of them could have predicted. The door to the tunnel on this side was blown clean off its hinges, but what came out of the tunnel wasn’t men. At least not at first. Grenades were tossed up, causing the villagers defending it to move back. They began coughing, as multi-coloured smoke – some of it yellow, some orange, some blue – got into their lungs.

  “No, stay where you are!” shouted Gwen, running towards it. But that was easier said than done when they could hardly breathe.

  The next thing they knew, German soldiers were inside. Nobody saw them climb up through the hole, they just appeared wearing gasmasks, striding through the smog, rifles held high and zeroing in on the villagers surrounding the trapdoor. Several shots were fired and men and women fell straight away. Carol Fawkes was shot point blank in the face.

  Gwen opened fire on the advancing soldiers. They were spreading out, some heading to the nearest cottages and taking up covering positions – or maybe searching them? – others crouching in order to pick off the sentries up on the wall. Henry was one of the first to buy it, standing and firing on the men and being riddled with automatic rifle fire for his efforts.

  Gwen barely batted an eye; she didn’t have time. The soldiers were getting closer and closer to her house – to Darryl and to Clive Jr. Hefting the rifle up to her shoulder, Gwen aimed at one of the soldiers and got him directly between the eyes. She’d become so much better with a gun than when she first used one to kill Major Javier, the man who’d slaughtered her beloved Clive.

  She turned, shooting another German who was coming up on her left. Then she fired at a group on her right, breathing hard – relishing the feel of the rifle as it pumped out bullet after bullet. A smattering of machine-gun fire forced her to pull back behind the wall of a house, but she immediately bobbed her head back round the corner, firing again.

  Screams filled the air, but some were taking her lead, realising that if they didn’t fight, they’d die. Two or three had taken cover behind a notice board. The wood splintered as German troops fired at them, but they ducked and returned fire, causing the soldiers to try and find shelter now. One didn’t make it; shot in the legs as he ran.

  Gwen grinned, targeting the fallen man and putting a bullet in his chest to make sure he was out of the picture.

  “Fall back!” she heard someone shout, and for a moment Gwen thought it might be the Germans. No such luck: it was another team of villagers, being driven into doorways by an advancing squad of enemy soldiers. They just kept on coming out of that hole. Gwen needed to put a stop to it. She moved up, sliding along the wall of the house she’d been using for protection. Then she ran across, making the most of the thinning smoke cover. She could see the tunnel entrance,
and put several bullets in a German using his elbow to climb out. Gunfire raked the ground ahead of her and she dived out of the way, rolling and coming up shooting. She clicked empty and sprinted towards the bench just ahead of her, leaping over and ducking behind it as more bullets followed in her wake.

  She ejected the magazine, grabbed another from her pocket, slapped it in place. Then she got up and rested on the back of the seat, firing in the direction the bullets had come from, shouting in triumph when she saw one German soldier fall to the ground.

  Just when she thought they might stand a chance, there was an explosion at the front wall.

  Jesus, Gwen thought. What now?

  She wished she hadn’t asked when she looked over and saw the gates flung wide as Tanek’s armoured vehicle smashed through.

  “Shit!”

  Villagers fired at the jeep, but their bullets just zinged off. One man was caught in the vehicle’s path, turning as it was upon him; he fell under the wheels and was crushed, head popping like a melon.

  More German troops entered behind the armoured car, picking their targets, not wasting a round. How did she ever think they could stand a chance against professional fighters like these?

  Then there he was, climbing out of the jeep. He was even bigger than she remembered, but that dour face, that olive skin was the same. He’d only been out a few seconds and he’d already put two crossbow bolts into someone. Tanek was coming for her son, but she was damned if she was going to let that happen.

  Gwen came out from behind the bench, heading back in the direction she’d just come from: heading Tanek off at the pass before he could reach –

  “Shit!”

  The giant was striding across, busting in door after door and killing whoever resisted. He was checking every house for Clive Jr, and he didn’t have many to go. Sam Coulson came up behind Tanek, rifle raised. Gwen held her breath, watching as Sam was about to pull the trigger, but Tanek had already sensed his presence and was spinning, so quickly Sam didn’t have time to fire. The weapon was knocked clean out of his hands and Tanek grabbed him by the throat, lifting Sam into the air as though he weighed nothing. If Gwen had been closer – and if there hadn’t been so much noise – she probably would have heard the cracking of the bones in Sam’s neck as Tanek squeezed. Sam’s eyes bulged, his tongue flopping out as he dropped to the ground, legs giving out beneath him.