by Tim Hall
* * *
Day gave way to dusk. The sawing and the hammering stopped. The outlaws broke into separate camps, each around their own fire, each telling their own stories and sharing their own jokes. Marian woke and detached herself from Robin, crawling out from under his cloak.
“It feels strange, being back in this place.”
“You don’t need to fear it,” Robin said. “You’re safe with me.”
“That’s what I mean, it’s the weirdest thing, but I’m not scared, not in the slightest. There are always darker places, I suppose. But it’s more than that. It’s a feeling almost like … coming home.”
Robin remained silent, strange possibilities rising in his mind. He set about building a fire.
After a while, Marian said: “I knew you’d come for me. I knew you’d stop at nothing. It’s like I told you before: All the stories are coming true. Remember, in the tower, I used to read you the story of Sir Orfeo, whose wife was stolen away? He spent years wandering in the wild, sleeping on the bare earth, until he learned where his wife was being held, and he traveled to the Underworld, to bring her back. We’ve both been to the depths, haven’t we?”
Robin sat back from the crackling fire. Marian curled herself against him. “We still have some distance to travel,” she said. “But we’ll make it, together. Once we destroy our enemy, then we’ll truly be free.”
Robin thought for a moment. “Those stories. Sir Orfeo. Orpheus. Lot. They all end the same way, don’t they? They all say: ‘Don’t look back or you’ll lose everything you’ve got left.’ We don’t need to go any further down that dark path.”
“Yes, we do. We’ve got to follow it to the end—that’s the only way back to the light.”
“I’ve seen what revenge costs. It will swallow us.”
An idea came to him. He got up and went to the cave and found his backpack. He returned holding Sir Bors’s scroll, moldy now to the touch. Marian hesitated, then took the scroll and unrolled it. She began to read and behind her words Robin heard the voice of Sir Bors:
“Robin, there are no absolute truths in this world. That is one of the things we will endeavor to show you, during your time with us. One man’s scripture is another man’s legend, and a third man’s lies. I want you to hold that in mind when you read the following lines. They are from a divination called The Dream of the Wyrdwood. Its complete contents are buried beyond my reaching, but over the years I have unearthed this much in full:
The tearing of an angel’s wing
Harbinger of silent spring
Mother divine, mortal sire
Quickening of Gaea’s pyre
A son in darkness, daughter chained
Two shall meet, blood will reign
Fenrir’s lust shall be returned
Birth-rite of the winter-born.
“I shall not dictate what you should make of these words,” Sir Bors’s scroll continued. “I have made such mistakes in the past and the consequences haunt me still. Suffice to say this: There are powerful men in this realm who hold this script sacrosanct. It is the wellspring of all the harm they do. Each of us, Robin, when it comes time to face our enemy, can go armed with more than sword and shield. We can attempt to grasp our enemy’s truths, and in doing so hope to guard ourselves against the worst of their hatred, and their malice.”
Marian stopped reading.
“What else?” Robin said.
“Nothing. It ended there.”
“There must be more. He was going to tell me why he made me his ward. He was going to tell me what happened to my parents.”
“I told you what happened to them,” Marian said. “Who do you trust, me or Sir Bors?”
As she spoke she rolled the scroll, placed it in the fire. The flames hissed as the moldy vellum began to burn.
“I told you …,” Marian said. “Your parents are dead. The villagers sent word to the Sheriff, telling him about you—how you were found in the wildwood—one of the winter-born. When Robert Loxley learned the Sheriff was on his way to Wodenhurst, he thought there was only one place you’d be safe. He took you into the wildwood and he left you there. He took the heart of a buck back to the village, told the Sheriff he had killed you himself—granted you a quick death. The Sheriff tortured him, regardless. Your brothers fought back and died for it. Your mother too. This is the truth. It is a part of you. You cannot hide from it, cannot run from it. You can only fight and fight until it’s put right.”
Robin listened to the scroll sigh as it curled in the heat, the unanswered questions twisting in his mind. Why did the Sheriff want to destroy the winter-born? What was that horror he kept chained beneath his castle? Who were Robin’s real parents?
A line of the scroll came back to him, an awful idea taking shape.
Mother divine, mortal sire.
He thought of the goddess of the forest, and her words to him.
You’re not the first. Others will come. For now you’re my only. My lover, my son.
His forest-mind searching for her …
Here she is, exhausted and pale, walking toward the forest edge, a crying infant in her arms.
We’ve planted the seed, now it must grow.
Marian pushed herself against him, but this time he barely felt her touch. He was thinking of his family now—of how deeply he still missed them, and of all they had endured.
The Sheriff tortured him, regardless … fought back and died for it …
The shadow shard was running cold through his bones, bleeding deeper than ever, leaking to his heart, hardening around it and blackening it, like an oak scourged by wildfire. And as it did so an old promise returned to his mind, burning bright and fierce.
A man with a ruined face.
Robin’s arrow buried in his chest.
I owe a great debt to my agent, James Wills, who was this story’s first editor, and its greatest champion from the start. My deepest thanks also to everyone at David Fickling Books, particularly my mentors there: David Fickling, Bella Pearson, and Simon Mason. All that is excellent within these pages is due to their guidance and patience. Finally, and most importantly, thank you to my wife, Lizzie, who helped me find the freedom to do this work, who suffered its trials at my side, and who makes all the effort worthwhile.
Tim Hall has written for various national newspapers and magazines. Most recently he spent two years in Bermuda, reporting for the Bermuda Sun. He has traveled widely in other parts of the world, including Asia and South America. Shadow of the Wolf is his first novel. He lives in Gloucestershire, England.
Copyright © 2015 by Tim Hall
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920, by arrangement with David Fickling Books, Oxford, England. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc. DAVID FICKLING BOOKS and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of David Fickling Books.
First published in the United Kingdom in 2014 by David Fickling Books, 31 Beaumont Street, Oxford, OX1 2NP.
www.davidficklingbooks.com
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hall, Tim K., 1977- author.
Shadow of the wolf / by Tim Hall.—[First U.S. edition].
pages cm
“First published in the United Kingdom in 2014 by David Fickling Books.” Summary: Two events change young Robin Loxley’s life forever—he encounters a wargwolf in the woods and returns home days later to discover that his family, believing him dead, have left the village, and six months later he meets the young and rebellious Lady Marian.<
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ISBN 978-0-545-81664-9
1. Robin Hood (Legendary character)—Juvenile fiction. 2. Maid Marian (Legendary character)—Juvenile fiction. 3. Werewolves—Juvenile fiction. 4. Sherwood Forest (England)—Juvenile fiction. 5. Great Britain—History—Medieval period, 1066-1485—Juvenile fiction. [1. Robin Hood (Legendary character)—Fiction. 2. Werewolves—Fiction. 3. Sherwood Forest (England)—Fiction. 4. Great Britain—History—Medieval period, 1066–1485—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.1.H3Sh 2015
[Fic]—dc23
2014035621
First edition, June 2015
Cover art © 2014 Richard Collingridge
Author photo © Stefanie Calleja-Gera
e-ISBN 978-0-545-82313-5
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
