End of the End
Page 34
The card, and the man it depicted, was THE FOOL.
Was that what he was doing? Was he rushing headlong towards his doom without knowing it, chasing the arrow still burning so brightly ahead of him? Or was it what he was doing in that other place? The real world he’d come from, where there were no symbols or warnings, where things just happened and you had to deal with them.
The stag couldn’t really stop anyway, his legs propelling him forward whether he wanted to go or not. And he’d suddenly been joined by another animal that ran alongside him, light brown in colour with a mane: a majestic lion, roaring to announce its presence. To offer its company. That was a comforting thing at the moment, because the forest was darkening. He felt like he was the one being watched now. Studied.
Then he saw that he was being observed. By dozens... no, tens of dozens of eyes. That was all he could see, in the darkness between trees: things scrutinising him, because he was sure they weren’t people. Or not really people anyway, not the way their eyes glowed red like that. The stag looked around for the lion, but it was gone, leaving him wondering whether it had been friend or foe—or even something in-between. He was safe enough, though, here in the middle, his way lit by the flaming arrow ahead of him.
Leading him on, finally, to his destination.
Before he reached it, he caught sight of the metal thing from earlier, now flapping its wings. A large bird of what looked like iron, hanging in the air ahead of him, above another clearing. It opened its wings wide and then transformed into something else, a cross of sorts—though all of its four ‘arms’ were bent. The stag stared at it, wondering what it meant, lit up by the arrow it had overtaken.
When he looked back down again, he saw what had been waiting for him at the end of this journey.
Death.
Not his own, no precipices to walk over while he wasn’t looking. This was much, much worse. The people he cared about, the people he loved so much were laying there covered in blood. He wanted to go to them—especially his beloved wife, his child, his brothers—but realised that he could not. Here he was not a man at all, he was an animal. He was only what the dream forest would let him be; all he could do was take in those bodies, those faces. All he could do was mourn them. Then came the anger—and the questions. How had this happened? Who was responsible?
He really had been a fool, hadn’t he? While he’d been bounding along, his family was being slaughtered by unknown hands. But if he hadn’t been able to save them, he could at least avenge them. The stag, teeth gritted, looked up again at the strange iron cross in the sky, saw the flaming arrow strike its centre. Knew, in his heart, that he’d been the one who’d shot it.
Yet he felt a compulsion to look back, look behind him over his shoulder. It was only at this point that he saw the damage done by the arrow, a forest alight. Burning brightly one minute, burnt to the ground the next, leaving behind only blackened stumps.
More tears came then, because not only had he lost his kin, he had also lost his home.
This dream of Sherwood had become a nightmare.
THE HOODED MAN woke, sitting bolt upright, looking around, a hand automatically on his bow.
He had to make sure they were still safe. For a moment he panicked; they were all prone, laid out like they had been in the dreamscape. But they were far from dead. He picked up soft breathing, even snoring, as they slumbered. And now a couple of them stirred, though only long enough to roll over and continue sleeping. He let out the breath he’d been holding, looked down and across to see his wife beside him, her dark hair splayed out beneath her like some beauty from a painting. Reaching out, he placed his hand on the swell of her stomach then wished he hadn’t, because she was instantly awake.
“Robin?” she said, on seeing his face. “Robin, what is it? What is amiss?”
He shook his head. “It is nothing, Marian. A troubling dream.” Now she looked concerned as well. Marian knew as well as he that a dream in Sherwood, probably of Sherwood if she knew her Robin well, did not mean nothing. Moreover, his dreams—the warnings the forest spirits gave to him—had saved them all on more than one occasion.
“Tell me,” she insisted, and he did... or as much as he felt comfortable saying. Robin did not—could not—share the image of her and his men, murdered where they lay: Much, who was like a son to him; Little John, his brother; Friar Tuck, a brother in more ways than one; and Will, who he was forever clashing with but loved all the same. Once more, he cast his eyes around their camp to check they were all right. For one thing, any intruder on this night would have to get past Alan and the Saracen, on lookout in either direction.
“There is more, is there not?” Marian was far from stupid, Robin knew that.
“Aye,” he told her wearily. “This dream was different from the others I have had in the past. It did not feel as if I was dreaming about us, about our conflict... That is to say, the Sheriff was definitely there—in the form of a snake as before—but it was not him. For one thing, he remains childless, as far as I know. And those others... The red bears, the dragon, the spider-witch. Enemies yet to be encountered, perhaps, but I do not think they are ours. I did not even feel like I was truly myself. I was the stag again, yet...”
Marian’s brow creased and she shook her head. “I do not understand, my love.”
“Neither do I,” Robin admitted. “But I did get the sense that what we are doing here, today, will affect what happens after this. Maybe even long after we are gone ourselves, leaving the struggle to those who follow.” He patted her belly again, rearranged the moss and leaves around her to make her more comfortable. It was a balmy night, this one, so they’d chosen to bed down outside under the stars. “Now sleep, Marian. We will speak of this again tomorrow.”
Before she could say another word, Robin placed a finger on her lips, then took her head and rested it on his chest, leaning back with her. Though he knew it would be a long time before sleep visited him once more.
Thoughts and wonderings about what was to come flitted and whirled around inside his head. Wonderings that would bother him from that day forward, until he took his dying breath. About the possibility of another Hooded Man.
A man whose dreams he may have accidentally stolen upon.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
MY THANKS TO the team at Abaddon for letting me loose with the characters in the Hooded Man world once again and allowing me to catch up with them down the line. I was just as surprised to see what they were doing as readers will be, I think. In particular my heartfelt thanks to David Thomas Moore and Ben Smith for their support. My thanks also to Jonathan Oliver who commissioned those first three novels, which I had so much fun with—as indeed I did with this one. To all my mates in the writing world, you know who you are and how important you are to me. And to my other family, the one that keeps me going, especially my lovely daughter and Arrowhead fan Jen, and ever-loving wife. My very own Mary and my inspiration: Marie.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Paul Kane is an award-winning writer and editor based in Derbyshire, UK. His short story collections include Alone (In the Dark), Touching the Flame, FunnyBones, Peripheral Visions, Shadow Writer, The Adventures of Dalton Quayle, The Butterfly Man and Other Stories, The Spaces Between and GHOSTS. His novellas include Signs of Life, The Lazarus Condition, RED and Pain Cages. He is the author of such novels as Of Darkness and Light, The Gemini Factor and the bestselling Arrowhead trilogy (Arrowhead, Broken Arrow and Arrowland, gathered together in the sellout omnibus edition Hooded Man), a post-apocalyptic reworking of the Robin Hood mythology. His latest novels are Lunar (which is set to be turned into a feature film), Sleeper(s) (a modern, horror version of Sleeping Beauty) and the short Y.A. novel The Rainbow Man (as P.B. Kane).
He has also written for comics, most notably for the Dead Roots zombie anthology alongside writers such as James Moran (Torchwood, Cockneys vs. Zombies) and Jason Arnopp (Dr Who, Friday The 13th). Paul is co-editor of the anthology Hellbound Hearts (Simon & Schust
er)—stories based around the Clive Barker mythology that spawned Hellraiser—The Mammoth Book of Body Horror (Constable & Robinson/Running Press), featuring the likes of Stephen King and James Herbert, A Carnivàle of Horror (PS) featuring Ray Bradbury and Joe Hill, and Beyond Rue Morgue from Titan, stories based around Poe’s detective, Dupin.
His non-fiction books are The Hellraiser Films and Their Legacy, Voices in the Dark and Shadow Writer—The Non-Fiction. Vol. 1 & 2, and his genre journalism has appeared in the likes of SFX, Fangoria, Dreamwatch, Gorezone, Rue Morgue and DeathRay. He has been a Guest at Alt.Fiction five times, was a Guest at the first SFX Weekender, at Thought Bubble in 2011, Derbyshire Literary Festival, Edge-Lit and Off the Shelf in 2012, plus Monster Mash and Event Horizon in 2013, as well as being a panellist at FantasyCon and the World Fantasy Convention.
His work has been optioned for film and television, and his zombie story “Dead Time” was turned into an episode of the Lionsgate/NBC TV series Fear Itself, adapted by Steve Niles (30 Days of Night) and directed by Darren Lynn Bousman (SAW II-IV). He also scripted The Opportunity, which premiered at the Cannes Film Festival, Wind Chimes (directed by Brad ‘7th Dimension’ Watson and sold to TV) and The Weeping Woman—filmed by award-winning director Mark Steensland and starring Tony-nominated actor Stephen Geoffreys (Fright Night). You can find out more at his website www.shadow-writer.co.uk which has featured Guest Writers such as Dean Koontz, Robert Kirkman, Charlaine Harris and Guillermo del Toro.
WHEN THE WORLD ENDED...
The Cull swept the world in the early years of the twenty-first century, killing billions and ending civilisation. Only a fortunate few, blessed with the right blood type, were spared. In the chaos of the Afterblight, scientists, priests—even armed robbers—may become leaders, or heroes. Three incredible writers, including the bestselling author of the Shadows of the Apt series Adrian Tchaikovsky, lead us into the apocalypse.
In Malcolm Cross’s Orbital Decay, the team in the International Space Station watch helplessly as the world is all but wiped out. Exiled from Earth by his blood-type, astronaut Alvin Burrows must solve the mystery of the “Pandora” experiment, even as someone on the station takes to murdering the crew one by one...
In C. B. Harvey’s Dead Kelly, fugitive and convict “Dead” Kelly McGuire returns from hiding out in the Bush to the lawless city of Melbourne. McGuire has three jobs to do: to be revenged on his old gangmates, to confront some uncomfortable truths about his past, and—ultimately—to discover his own terrible destiny...
In Adrian Tchaikovsky’s The Bloody Deluge, Katy Lewkowitz and her friend and old tutor Dr. Emil Weber, fleeing the depredations of the so-called New Teutonic Order, take refuge among the strangely anachronistic survivors at the monastery of Jasna Góra in Western Poland. A battle of faith ensues, that could decide the future of humankind...
Available from Kobo
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‘AFTER THE WORLD DIED, WE ALL SORT OF DRIFTED BACK TO SCHOOL. AFTER ALL, WHERE ELSE WAS THERE TO GO?’
Lee Keegan’s fifteen. If most of the population of the world hadn’t just died choking on their own blood, he might be worrying about acne, body odour and girls. As it is, he and the young Matron of his boarding school, Jane Crowther, have to try and protect their charges from cannibalistic gangs, religious fanatics, a bullying prefect experimenting with crucifixion, and even the might of the US Army.
Welcome to St. Mark’s School for Boys and Girls...
School’s Out Forever collects School’s Out, Operation Motherland and Children’s Crusade, with the short story The Man Who Would Not Be King, an introduction by the editor, interviews, and new, previously unpublished material.
‘Youthful idealism conflicts with jaded experience, and the characters are frequently forced to balance ruthless effi ciency with utopian optimism... A lot of provocative discussion sneaks in under the cover of machine gun fire.’
Pornokitsch on Kitschie Award Finalist Children’s Crusade
Available from Kobo
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AFTER THE WORLD DIED, THE LEGEND WAS REBORN.
When civilisation shuddered and died, Robert Stokes lost everything, including his wife and his son. The ex-cop retreated into the woods near Nottingham, to live off the land and wait to join his family. As the world descended into a new Dark Age, he turned his back on it all.
The foreign mercenary and arms dealer De Falaise sees England is ripe for conquest. He works his way up the country, forging an army and pillaging as he goes. When De Falaise arrives at Nottingham and sets up his new dominion, Robert is drawn reluctantly into the resistance. From Sherwood he leads the fight and takes on the mantle of the world’s greatest folk hero.
The Hooded Man and his allies will become a symbol of freedom, a shining light in the horror of a blighted world, but he can never rest: De Falaise is only the first of his kind.
This omnibus collects the novels Arrowhead, Broken Arrow and Arrowland, with a new introduction by editor Jonathan Oliver. The ebook edition also exclusively collects the stories ‘The Servitor,’ ‘Perfect Presents,’ and ‘Signs and Portents.’
Available from Kobo
www.abaddonbooks.com