Harlow turned and looked at the door behind her and turned the handle. She knew it was locked before she felt the unnatural push of the doors knob again.
She looked around the room, searching for anything useful.
She scanned her eyes around the raging war in front of her. Nothing popped out to her. She turned back to the door and gave it another shove, feeling the intense panic rise in her chest and eat at her.
She pushed all of her body's force against the door and when it didn't give, she backed up and slammed her fist against the door.
She looked up and around, before she had to twist and tilt her head back to the wall before her. She noticed a huge curtain cascading down from a high ledge just before the ceiling. She would bet anything that the curtain lead up to where Enders was being taken to.
She took hold of the curtain and gave it a hard tug. The curtain didn't move, keeping placed in it's designated position.
She let go and repositioned her hands on the curtain before pushing herself up and started to climb up the strand of fabric.
She heard the sounds of battle happening under her, but refused to look down. Her arms started to get weak and tired from the climb. It was getting harder with every push and pull. With every inch, she felt her arms might give away. It had been to long since she'd trained and now it had come to bite her painfully.
She gritted her teeth together and pushed herself up further. It was only when she was about to reach the top that her hand slipped and she hung from only her left hand, clinging to the red fabric for dear life.
Her eyes scanned the ground and war ensuing below. Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest and her hands started to become clammy. She felt her skin go red with panic and horror. It was a very long way down, and the sight made her think about what would happen if she fell.
She gritted her teeth again and thought only of Enders. She forced her body to swing back toward the curtain and forced her hands and arms to keep her going.
It was only about two feet before she climbed over the ledge at the top and fell to the ground on the other side.
She tried not to make any sound, although one 'oof,' came out as she landed on her stomach. She pushed herself up, and dusted her hands off on her dress.
She gawked at the sight before her.
The corridor was lined with large, stone, arched windows on the right side, where sunlight poured into the castle. On the right were doors upon doors, leading to different room and secrets that Harlow couldn't imagine.
She took a few cautious steps down the illuminated corridor, taking a look at everything she could see. The arches that lead to the outside world were intricately detailed with all kinds of designs. Harlow noticed it was well hidden from a side of danger. This side of the castle faced a meadow, where no archers could hide and no harm could come from. She took in the sun while she walked through the corridor, trying to listen for anything that could be useful.
Carefully, she took step by small step for less than five minutes before two muffled voices came to her ears.
She wasted no time, taking two steps at a time and trying to find where the voices came from.
The voices got louder and angrier. Sher was getting closer to them, and she prayed that they'd be the people who'd taken Enders.
Her thoughts were confirmed when Harlow took two more cautious steps and heard the voices coming directly from the door on her right side.
She felt her heart go numb for only a moment before she laid herself against the bright, white wall on the left of the door.
She heard the hushed voices of King Wesley and two other men she didn't recognize.
“Kill the boy and be done with it!” One voice rang out through the hallway.
Harlow crept an inch closer, sticking to wall, as the giant windows let the light pour in before her.
She tried not to think about the warmth of the sun and how great it felt to see daylight. Harlow turned her head, trying to keep her thoughts only on Enders and rescuing him from this castle.
Instead of letting herself get distracted, she crept ever closer to the door, listening intently as the sounds of an argument rang out.
“Simon, get him under control.” King Wesley said, nonchalance and annoyance clear in his voice. Harlow could almost feel him wave his hand in a passive way.
“Gregory,” A third voice chimed in, sternly, trying to regain control of the situation.
“If we kill the boy, the outlaws will have no reason to be here,” The man named Gregory, Harlow assumed, said with panic laced in his voice.
“Except revenge,” Simon said back, his voice still stern and serious. He was trying to remain calm.
A loud bang sounded from down the hallway, causing Harlow to turn back and start panicking. She saw one of the open windows and walked over, seeing a small overhang several feet below.
She raised herself onto the windowsill, hearing the clinking of armor and the pitter-patter of footsteps coming toward her.
The faster the footsteps came, the faster Harlow moved. She felt her heart beat faster and faster as she moved around the windowsill and placed her feet on a small overhang several feet below. Her fingers barely grazed the surface of the windowsill, her heart beating faster with every passing second.
“My Liege!” A panicked voice yelled out, knocking harshly on the oak door.
Harlow heard the oak door swing open, “What?”
“The outlaws are attacking from the west side as well. It's a full on ambush out there and we're running out of men to fight the battles. We've no other resources.” The voice cracked in panic toward the end of the words.
“What do you mean we have no other resources?” The King demanded.
“One of the commanders sent dozens of men out to search for the outlaws in Sherwood. We out of at least sixty men.” The panic had subsided for a moment, only to return and crack the man's voice again.
The King let out an angry, gruff sigh. “Where is this commander?”
“In the ballroom. That is, if the outlaws haven't slaughtered him yet, My Liege.”
Harlow cringed, knowing that they were speaking about Parker.
The King sighed again. “Where is the ambush happening?”
“The west wing, right outside the plateau.” The man said, his voice weak and unstable.
“On the plateau?” King Wesley grew irritated and stressed. He took several steps out of the room. Harlow heard his contemplative steps come closer to the window she was standing outside of.
Harlow moved her fingers away from the sill gently, keeping balance on the small overhang that her feet sat on. She forced herself not to look down, making sure she wouldn't scare herself into falling to her death.
“It's a distraction.” The King determined, looking out the window. He turned swiftly, sending air to play above Harlow's head when his cape swung behind him. Harlow heard a few steps of the king's steel boots on the stone before his voice rang out again. “Make sure he stays put. Do not let him go anywhere.” King Wesley took two steps forward before abruptly turning back and adding, “And Keep him alive.”
“Yes, Sir,” the two soldiers answered in unison.
The king and another set of footsteps fell down the hall and away from Harlow. When she was certain that no one would see her, she climbed back up onto the sill and looked back and forth down the hallways. She walked, quietly, to the archway that the two men stood inside of.
She spotted Enders, sitting on his knees, stealing glances at the men who stood before him.
“Why should we leave him alive? We should kill him and be done, Simon!” Gregory, an older man with a small stubble on his face pleaded with the other man, Simon. Simon looked far younger with a head full of brown hair and matching stubble.
“The King has ordered us to leave him be, and that is what we will do.” Simon said, sternly, shaking off Gregory's pleas.
Gregory shook head and sighed. He stood still for a moment as Simon stepped away for
m him and toward a window. “Fine,” He huffed angrily, the intensity in the room rising with each passing second. “If you don't do it, I will.”
Gregory stalked toward Enders, harshly, taking out his sword as he did so.
Harlow wasted no time in snatching one of the unlit torches off the wall and throwing it harshly at his head.
The man immediately fell over, unconscious, his head bleeding radically from the torch.
Everything happened fast in that moment.
Harlow took a step into the room, seeing Simon coming after her. She quickly turned to the table at her side and picked up a butter knife, plunging it deep into his chest, causing him to cry out in pain. The pain did not deter him from coming forward and unsheathing his sword.
Harlow took two steps backward, grabbing a fire poker that sat lonely against the wall. She stepped forward and held the poker out in front of her. She knew that it was either him or her who would walk away from this, and he was trained to never back down.
Then again, so was she.
She took another cautious step forward and stared up at him from below her eyelashes.
Simon kept still, attempting to mask the pain he felt.
Harlow kept her gaze even, holding the fire poker out in front of her. She saw him blink and his gaze faltered. She took that moment of thoughtlessness to lunge forward and plummet the poker into his chest.
Simon fell to the ground, the poker still stuck in his body, convulsions taking over him.
Seeing the body made her want to freeze, but she knew that she had no time to waste.
Harlow ran to Enders, who sat, staring at her, shock written all over his face. “Harlow,” he said her name. She wanted to revel in the sound, and in the way his voice echoed in her ears.
“We have to go. Now.” She said, going behind his back and pulling apart the ropes that bound his hands together.
“Harlow,” He sighed, his heart beating so hard, she could feel it in his arms as she untied him.
She dropped the ropes, taking his hand and pulling him out of the room and rushing down the corridor at her right. She came to the ledge she'd come over and looked over the area below. The exit was farther down the hall they were on, which would be through the door she couldn't shove open. A small war still waged on, although it wasn't looking good for the outlaws. Reinforcements from the king were pushing them back. Blood laid on the floor in renegade puddles, and dead bodies littered the ballroom. Harlow noticed almost all of them were Knights.
“The outlaws began their attack here on the south end, through the kitchen, but they've set up another ambush in the west.” Harlow pulled him away from the ledge and down the corridor to a door on the end.
Enders breathed in hard as he heard what she was saying. He squeezed her hand as if he'd never be able to again.
“They're going to run out of men and arrows soon, so we have to get out now.” Harlow said as she picked up the pace.
She glanced back, seeing Enders struggling to keep his eyes open in the sunlight of the hallway. His skin was intensely pale and he seemed weak, but he had a strong spirit and will, which he relied on to get him through.
The two made it to the door at the end of the hall. Harlow again noticed the intricate design on the door, but paid no mind to it. She turned the knob and opened the door as quietly as possible.
A quiet squeak sounded off in the room, echoing lightly. Torches lit up a carefully designed study and strategy quarters. Harlow walked in and determined the room abandoned. With Enders following in suit, she walked over the door on the right side of the fully furnished and decorated room and pulled open the second door.
A dark stairwell greeted them, and knowing that there was no other way out, Harlow wasted no time in rushing down the steps. Enders followed behind, somehow finding the energy to keep up with her.
Harlow noticed that Enders rested a hand on her back, pushing her down the stairs, his vision getting better with the small amount of light.
They made it to the bottom with no problem and, as Harlow had dreaded, the ballroom beyond the secret staircase was empty.
Slowly, Harlow walked into the colossal room, feeling apprehensive as she snaked against the walls, Enders following behind to her.
She felt his shock as he stared out over the dead bodies. Most had been Knights, yes, but maybe six outlaws laid dead on the ballroom floor.
It was deserted and messy. Plates and food littered the floor, along with the renegade dead bodies.
Harlow reached behind her and took Enders hand, pulling him toward the kitchen exit, and following the wall as she walked. Enders followed close behind her and squeezed her hand tightly.
The wall came to an end, opening up into a large archway on the left side of the room. The kitchen sat on the other end, a small curtain hang over the entrance.
Harlow eyed the room, suspiciously, pausing for a moment before propelling herself to the other end of the room, and pulling Enders along with her.
“Let's go,” Harlow breathed out, excited to see the exit she'd been dying to get to.
She felt herself yanked back and turned around by Enders hand before she could register what was happening.
She saw before her King Wesley, holding Enders by the arm, a sword at his throat. The King bore his eyes into her, scanning her up and down, an eyebrow raised. “A mere Castle-hand?” King Wesley sneered, his demeanor cynical and angry. His frustration was obvious in his face. “Yet, I don't recognize you.”
Harlow stared at the scene before her in shock. No, she didn't expect this. She hadn't planned for this. Intense panic rose from her heart and throughout her body. She didn't have a weapon, yet the king held one to Enders' neck.
“Nothing to say?” The king asked, his eyebrow still raised and a smile on the edge of his lips. “What if I dig this blade into his throat? Then what? Will you speak?”
Harlow paused for a moment before trying to compose herself. Her anger started to boil up at the mention of harming Enders. “I will speak regardless of your actions.”
“Who are you?” The king demanded, anger seeping into his voice.
“A Castle-hand.” Harlow answered, her frustration still building up.
King Wesley laughed bitterly. “Don't lie to me,” He boomed, boring his eyes into hers. “If you lie to me, he dies.” The king warned, pressing the blade an inch more into Enders throat, making the king's robes swing gently with the motion. “Who are you?”
Harlow smiled devilishly, raising an eyebrow, and a smile chuckle on her lips. “I'm an outlaw.”
The king laughed again bitterly, an evil tone coming from his lips. “Didn't I say not to lie to me? You expect me to believe that Robin Hood is recruiting women now?”
Harlow smiled still, side stepping gently to her left, where the middle of the ballroom sat. She shook her head as she looked at him. “You don't exactly have to believe it.”
“The life of this outlaw depends on your word. Don't you care?” The King asked, maliciously, happiness and giddiness on the brim of his voice.
Enders held a sad, hard expression, refusing to let himself get sucked into this situation. He would never give up, Harlow knew that, but he wasn't exactly fighting at the moment.
“I'm an outlaw. I have no reason to care for anyone other than myself.” Harlow shrugged at the King, taking another side step to the right.
“I don't believe you.” King Wesley narrowed his eyes at her and sneered. His gray hair was masked by his golden crown, and his maroon-colored robes detracted from his malicious expression. She noticed that his nostrils flared angrily, but he was trying to mask his anger with some hidden charisma, but Harlow knew better than to fall for that. He narrowed his eyes at Harlow devilishly, waiting for her a reaction.
It was then that she noticed her eyes in his own, the two sharing the same brown colored eyes.
“I don't expect you to,” Harlow stated. “But,” she said, holding up a finger, “who should ever trust an outlaw
?”
He laughed, again seeming bitter. “Aye, no one should believe an outlaw, but you are not an outlaw.”
Harlow held up one finger, a smirk on her lips. “Aye,” she mocked him. “I'm not simply an outlaw.”
She side-stepped again, finally making her way to the guests' feast table, she placed her hands on the edge of the table, letting herself lean on the edge of the wood. She picked up a renegade apple and took a bite. “Delicious,” she commented, looking at the apple endearingly while placing her other hand behind her, on top of a random carving knife she'd noticed moments earlier.
“You take another step and I'll kill you.” The King warned, his voice filled with annoyance. She couldn't tell if his nonchalance was sincere. A cold stare pierced her eyes as she took another slow, cautious bite into the apple.
Harlow placed the apple back onto the table she leaned against, earning a disgusted look from the king before her. King Wesley only moved his eyes, from her to the apple to her once again. The rest of his body was stoic and lifeless, Enders held firmly in his grasp. Harlow took a good look at him, although returning his cold stare. He was older, but not elderly. He was fit and slender with a semi-tall stature, towering over her, but only inches taller than Enders. His brown eyes were a color that Harlow knew matched her own and his wicked smile was one that sickened her to her stomach, not because it was evil, but because it resembled her face so well.
Quickly Harlow pushed herself up. While doing so, she grabbed the carving knife from the table and slipped it into the sleeve of her dress.
“I'm done playing games with you! Tell me who you are!” The king demanded, his voice booming and echoing throughout the ballroom and sending chills down Harlow's spine. She felt her heart start to beat faster, and panic rise within her belly. Her palms became sweaty as she wondered how she and Enders could get out of this alive.
Then an idea came to her mind. If she could pull it off, the man would be distracted, and she could make a break for it with Enders.
Harlow tried to keep her composure, plastering a grin onto her lips and sending a message of victory. “My name is Harlow McBride,” She said, her tone going from gleeful to serious as she proceeded with the plan. “My father is Harrison McBride. My mother was your daughter, the Princess of England, whom you murdered.”
Sherwood Page 18
