Arrowland

by Paul Kane

  He hadn't even realised he was nodding, until he was doing so. Suddenly it had all made perfect sense, what she was offering him. Though they'd only spent a short time together, those minutes had become hours, days, and somehow he knew this woman better than he ever had Joanne or Mary. So much so that he'd agreed to talk with the latter. The Widow freed him, once she was certain he was under her control, dressing Robert so that he could come with her to meet Mary, to convince her.

  Even as he'd come forward, walking through that dream haze, speaking words that were his and yet weren't, he'd semi-believed it. Robert told Mary the Widow was going to share her magic, replacing what he'd lost, what had been stolen from him. He believed it all so much he'd taken the ring from Mary's finger.

  And then it happened.

  Robert recognised that look. He'd been responsible for it once before, when they'd been arguing, drifting apart, when Adele had been on the scene. When there had been doubt in Mary's mind, even though Robert had been faithful throughout. That look, that hurt. He'd sworn there and then he'd never do anything to warrant it ever again.

  Memories came back to him of all the time he'd spent with Mary, his wedding day, last Christmas. It hit him like a slap in the face, smashing its way through the fog and clearing his mind.

  But now was not the time to strike. Robert was still massively outnumbered and the Widow had armed guards trained on Mary. The only way was to make that harlot think he was still under her control. The fact that she wanted him so badly, that she thought he was some long-promised love, might just work in his favour. So he'd gone along with the kiss, this time responding as the Widow covered his lips with her own - trying hard to ignore Mary's wails and hoping she might understand if, no, when they finally got out of this.

  Mary had been taken back to her cell, and at least out of harm's way. The Widow had held up the hand on which she now wore Mary's wedding ring. "I'll have tae think about changin' ma name."

  Robert had smiled, playing along. The spell was definitely broken, but he couldn't allow this woman to see that. Now, it was simply a question of biding his time until he could incapacitate the Widow. That wasn't going to be easy. Even alone she was a force to be reckoned with.

  The question was, how far would he take this performance? Because the Widow was keen to consummate their sham of a marriage. "Come on, lover, I'll show you ma chambers," she'd said, batting her dark eyelashes and pulling on his arm as she dragged him through the halls. There were armed soldiers on every corner, no opportunity for Robert to act. Perhaps he'd stand a better chance when they were alone together in her bedroom.

  And what a room that was, located inside the Royal Palace it was certainly fitting for a king and queen. The Widow removed her skin-tight trousers, leaving just her corset and a thong on, then lay back on the four poster bed, beckoning him.

  Okay, now what? thought Robert. There was no way he was going to go through with this - even if Mary hadn't been in the equation, the Widow was just too damned... scary. No wonder the men in her past had disappointed her. Now here she was, expecting him to step up to the bat, her perfect man.

  The Widow patted the bed beside her. "What yer waiting for? Come here." There was a powerful edge to those words, and if he hadn't been such a strong-willed person, Robert might not have been able to resist. More tricks of the mind, coupled with drug fumes inhaled from those candles and incense sticks. As it was, he moved forward, almost involuntarily, but still in command of his own body. He was walking stiffly, though, finding it hard to conceal his true feelings. By the time he reached the bed, he could see the Widow suspected something was wrong.

  To throw her off the scent, he took off his top and sat down on the mattress.

  The Widow propped herself up on one elbow, placing a hand on his chest. "That strong heart's racin'."

  "With excitement."

  She smiled. "Aye. Let me calm yer down a bit." Her hand snaked lower, but before it could reach its destination, Robert grabbed her wrist. Rather than fighting him, the Widow seemed to enjoy it. "I just knew yer liked it rough," she growled. He grabbed her other wrist, pushing her back down against the bed. But she wrapped her legs around Robert, forcing him to straddle her. Obviously her idea of foreplay, but it was more like some of the wrestling moves Jack used.

  "Aye, that's it, that's..."

  Robert pulled away from her. She gripped him by the shoulders, attempting to draw him down on top of her, but he couldn't help resisting. Almost without warning, the Widow let go of him.

  Dammit, she knows, thought Robert.

  "There's one link left. She still has a hold on yer, doesn't she?" said the Widow. "Aye. I can see it. I can feel it."

  Robert said nothing.

  "I saw this, as well," the Widow confessed, and now he really knew he was in trouble.

  "I-I'm sorry," he offered. And part of him actually was. Because behind those hard eyes of hers, under the exterior - the bravado she put on - there was a woman who just wanted to be loved. Who wanted on some level what he and Mary had, who'd been filled up with nonsense about a perfect man when one didn't exist. And certainly wasn't Robert, could never be Robert.

  "Aye, well, there's only one thing for it." The Widow looked at Robert like she was expecting an answer, then replied for him. "For me to become yer new Empress, you have to kill the former one. Don't worry, there's nothing tae it. I've murdered more exes than yer've fired arrows."

  Of course, that woman who just wanted to be loved was also a complete and utter homicidal lunatic. Before he could do anything, she was already calling for the men guarding her chambers - ordering some to fetch Mary, while the rest escorted Robert and the Widow to the Great Hall.

  So he had to play along again, part of him relieved that the ordeal of the Widow's bedchambers was over, part of him concerned about what was to come next. It had been necessary for the Widow to believe, he knew that - her blind faith that he was the man from the card, her chosen one, was the only thing seemingly stopping her from focusing. It was a weakness he could exploit, he just wasn't sure how yet.

  As they waited in the Hall, though, the Widow impatient to get this over with so he could be totally hers, Robert kept an eye on everything around him: from the positioning of the guards - six on either side of the room, dotted between suits of armour with machine-guns, an eclectic touch - to the space around him and what he could use to initiate an escape; plenty of archways, which would be either a help or hindrance. When Mary was brought in, he attempted to act cool, but what he saw made his heart ache.

  She'd obviously been crying, but Mary seemed resigned to what had happened, that Robert belonged to the Widow. Her head was bowed and her body language spoke of a woman who'd given up.

  "All right, let's get this over and done wi', shall we?" said the Widow, and produced a knife, which she handed to Robert. A sacrificial dagger, thought Robert. Meant to represent the sacrifice not only of Mary, but of their whole relationship.

  Yeah, right. That wasn't going to happen.

  "Well, go on then," encouraged the Widow, nodding towards Mary. "Yer know what must be done. I cannae do it for yer, Robert."

  Yes, he knew exactly what to do. Robert approached Mary, hoping to convey what his plan was. But she wouldn't - couldn't - look him in the eye. Come on, Mary, look at me.

  "Kill her, Robert. Kill them both," urged the Widow.

  Robert paused. Mary raised her head.

  "Both?" said Robert.

  "Aye, her and the child. The last link. Yer rejected her, now do the same with that creature growing inside her."

  Robert's mouth gaped and he stared at Mary; she stared back. Her hands went to her stomach, a look of astonishment on her face. What the hell was the Widow talking about? He could see Mary had no idea either. Something to gauge his reaction, to test whether he was still loyal? Or perhaps to make him rethink what he was planning to do next? But if it were true... If-

  "Do it, man!" screamed the Widow.

  Robert
exchanged a look with Mary, all that was needed. "I'm sorry," he said, approaching her with the blade held high.

  "I know," she told him.

  "Now!" he cried, and twisted - flinging the dagger back towards the Widow. At the same time, Mary brought up both her arms. The guards obviously hadn't been expecting any more resistance after half carrying this defeated woman from her cell, and were taken completely by surprise when she elbowed them both in the stomach. They crumpled up, but Mary didn't wait to draw breath. Grabbing them both by the back of the neck, she knocked their heads together: hard.

  As the blade was flying towards the Widow, Robert was also diving to attack one of the Widow's men. The man's reaction was slower than Robert's and all it took was a blow across the windpipe to incapacitate him. Robert dragged the soldier around, using him as a human shield as the guard opposite opened fire. The first one took the bullets, his body jerking as they exploded into him. Robert glanced up to see what had happened with the knife.

  The Widow had caught it and was turning it around.

  "Mary, run!" he shouted, snatching both the guard's claymore and belt-knife before letting him drop. The knife he hurled at the soldier firing in his direction, and this time it did find its mark.

  The Widow was rushing forward, preventing any of her men on the opposite side of the room from getting a clean shot at Robert. Mary looked left and right, back towards the door she'd been brought through, then at Robert. "Run!" he yelled again, but it was already too late. The Widow had almost reached her, dagger ready to do what Robert couldn't.

  He was about to hurl himself at the woman, when he remembered the other guards. He ducked in time to escape the machine-gun fire, rolling over and bringing his sword up into the first. Robert offloaded the impaled man onto the guard directly behind, who was racing towards his companion. Wood splintered around Robert as the guards opposite were now free to train their weapons on him.

  Which also meant that the Widow had reached Mary.

  Robert rolled again, rising and throwing his claymore at one of the guards like a javelin. He snatched another belt-knife from the closest felled guard and tossed that at another guard diagonally opposite. Ducking sideways, he grabbed one of the suits of armour, pulling that in front of him for protection against yet more machine-gun fire. Bullets sparked off the armour, dislodging the rifle it held, but did at least allow him to move back toward Mary, and the Widow.

  To Robert's dismay, those archways were indeed proving a menace, as more guards - attracted by the noise - came dashing in. Pretty soon the whole damned hall would be filled with reinforcements. He had to take out the Widow right now.

  Robert ran at her, throwing the empty metal suit - the only weapon he had. As good as his aim was, though, the armour hit nothing, crashing instead across the floor and into the opposite wall. That was because the Widow had already circled around behind Mary and was holding the dagger to her throat.

  Weapons were being primed behind him, new soldiers swarming into the Hall. But Robert didn't care. For one thing he was in the direct line of sight of the Widow - any stray bullet might hit her as well, which he knew they couldn't risk - for another, he was more concerned about the golden blade pressed up against Mary's neck, the edge already drawing blood.

  "Wait, no!" he begged. "Stop! I'll do anything you want. Just please, please don't kill her." There were tears in his eyes. The Widow looked at him, and froze. Was there still some compassion in her? Something that recognised Mary was the one for him, not her?

  "All right," she told Robert. "And you'll agree to anything if I let her live?"

  He nodded.

  "Robert, no!" said Mary.

  "There is still a way we can be together. It wasnae what I wanted, though." The Widow ordered her men to restrain Robert. He held up his hands willingly. It was then that both he and Mary were marched out into the open, the light almost blinding him at first. Out, up and round to the reservoir buildings, then in through a door. The Widow had obviously been busy here, the place already set up for its new purpose, away from the prying eyes of most of her army. She only allowed two men inside with her, to help with what would come next, then she bolted the door.

  In front of them was what looked like a large funeral pyre. There was also some kind of pulley system that had been rigged up, attached to the walls and ceiling. Robert and Mary exchanged worried glances as they cottoned on to what was going to happen.

  With guns on both him and Mary, Robert had no choice. One way or another The Widow was finding a way for him to be her King, to make his strength her own so they could be together forever. Then she went over to a trunk, bringing out several bottles of liquid. She proceeded to coat his skin with this, mixing the solutions generously.

  "Cooking oil?"

  She didn't reply. There was a distinct air of disappointment in her expression, like he should have killed Mary - and his child, if what she'd said was true.

  "You and I have lived many lives," she told him. "And we will live on forever, whatever happens. We will be together."

  She nodded at one of the men who took Robert by the arms - wrenching him away from Mary when all he really wanted to do was kiss her, say goodbye to her. In all the scenarios he'd played out in his mind, after all the adventures and dangers he'd faced, he'd never once pictured this one. Being eaten alive by a crazy Scottish woman who thought they were soul mates.

  As he was pulled across to the ropes, his hands shoved inside them - then hauled upwards and across - he realised that the Widow had actually done worse to Mary than kill her. Now she would have to witness her husband being cooked alive, only to be devoured afterwards.

  On the Widow's orders one of her guards lit the fire, as she began her damned chanting again. Must have been part of whatever process she thought would give her his soul.

  He looked over at Mary. She was crying, trying to look away but not managing it. Wanting to capture his face, remember the moment - the last time she'd see him alive.

  And, once again, Robert wondered how he'd gotten into this mess.

  Chapter Fourteen

  So far, it was mostly going according to plan.

  Usually everything turned into such a mess. But not now, not this time. Twice he'd had to suffer defeat at the hands of his enemies. No more. As he drove along the road in the Eagle Armoured Vehicle Tanek thought back to his meetings with the Widow and the Dragon.

  Both had gone okay, the latter more so. That Widow was going to be trouble eventually. She'd already been trouble as far as he was concerned, with her magic tricks and supposed clairvoyance. More co-operative had been that bloated excuse for a human being, the Dragon. Tanek had radioed in to say he was close to the man's headquarters then, after a tour of the weaponry and vehicles, he'd been escorted to the meet. The Welshman had quite an impressive set up, Tanek had to admit, but funded by the people he himself represented. Tanks, armoured vehicles, guns, all supplied by the Germans.

  Both were just playing at being dictators, though. Neither the Widow nor the Dragon had the foresight, nor the clout, to pull something off like De Falaise, who'd swept up the country building an army as he'd gone. Nor did they possess the vision of the first Tsar.

  If the Dragon and Widow had pooled their resources and teamed up, however, it might have been a different story.

  His thoughts switched to those dreams the Widow had referenced, the promise he'd made to his former leader to watch over his child. Tanek had assumed that was Adele, who'd come out of nowhere and managed to almost cause the downfall of Hood. She'd been shot by Hood's woman, Mary, and had died in Tanek's arms - in spite of his best efforts to save her.

  "Take it slow," he'd told her as the bullet finally took its toll.

  "No, I must... must tell you... We have to save... He made me promise. My father."

  "Promise what?"

  "Save-"

  "Save who?"

  Her grip on his arm had tightened: "His child. My brother. My little brother."

&n
bsp; A brother? Could it possibly be? That somewhere out there, another child of De Falaise's existed? Tanek would have bet anything - back when betting actually meant something - that there were lots of little De Falaise bastards out there, providing, of course, that they'd retained his O-Neg blood before the virus hit. If he'd conquered women like he conquered territories, then Tanek would have quite a search on his hands. The kid - if indeed, it was still a kid - could be anywhere.

  Tanek had done as he had before, after De Falaise's death: retreated abroad. He figured he stood a better chance of tracking down the Sheriff's child if he scoured Europe first. After all, that had been De Falaise's playground for quite some time. Tanek had even tried searching back in Istanbul where he'd first encountered the Frenchman, but things had changed significantly while he'd been away. So many tin-pot dictators, exactly like the Dragon and the Widow, it was unbelievable. He couldn't move without getting into a fight, or having to prove to the people there exactly who he was; though part of him was very flattered his reputation had spread.

  If he hadn't been on a mission he might have stayed and showed them a thing or two, perhaps taking over a couple of their operations and building a force of his own. But he was also aware that it would be nothing compared to the armies already established in places like Germany.

  He'd heard the rumours, just as everywhere else seemed to have heard rumours about him. There was some kind of new Reich starting up, not that he was any great fan of the Nazis - the whole Aryan race thing put an olive-skinned guy like him off - but if nothing else they were organised. And this version's belief system was slightly more flexible than the old guard.

  That was the impression he got and the confirmation he received when he made contact with the Army of the New Order. He hadn't been able to gain access to the man in charge, but found himself talking to even more sympathetic members. One of whom had given him this gig, based on the tales about him almost taking out Robin Hood; twice! Those stories didn't go into details, thankfully, about how everything had gone to shit both times - just played up the notion that the upstart woodsman had nearly got his comeuppance at Tanek's hands. He hadn't corrected them.