by Paul Kane
Then someone stepped out of the mist. A figure wearing a hood, carrying a bow. On the ground, he saw Mary stir.
Tanek grinned to himself, not just because he could picture the Tsar’s face in the AFV – and imagine him having to swallow his words – but because he would now get the opportunity to kill Hood himself.
The Tsar’s voice came over the speaker. “So, you are still alive after all? Then I will have your head for what you did this morning!”
Shots rang out, and before Tanek could tell them that the Hooded Man was his kill, bullets from one of the soldiers guarding Mary and the nurse peppered Hood’s torso. He sank heavily to the ground. If he hadn’t been dead before, then he certainly was now. Tanek swore under his breath and, turning, shot the offending guard with his crossbow. “He was mine!”
As he was turning back to the scene, though, Tanek’s mouth fell open. Hood had climbed to his feet, bow and arrow readied. Adele stared in amazement too. What was he, indestructible? A ghost? He certainly looked the part, with the mist swirling around him.
They’d hardly had time to recover from this when another figure stepped out of the fog on their right, also wearing a hood and carrying the same weapons.
Seconds later, there was another on their left. It was almost as if the man had cloned himself.
Tanek frowned. One of these had to be the real Hood – he’d just kill them all! With his bare hands if necessary.
Before he could do anything, arrows were shot into the circle from somewhere beyond the trio. They took out the spotlights on the lead vehicle, then the others.
“Shoot!” Tanek ordered. But, glancing around, he saw that a good number of the soldiers were already on the floor, unconscious. They’d been silently put out of commission by someone else while their attention had been focused elsewhere.
Then he saw the culprit. Yet another hooded figure jumped from the top of an AFV, down into the small group guarding the hostages. He was dispatching soldiers with a sword, incapacitating them before they could get a shot off – slashing two across the face, then burying the point in another’s shoulder before Tanek could blink. Tanek collected himself, raised his crossbow and shot.
The man stepped sideways, letting the bolt bounce off the AFV. He took out a knife and threw it at Tanek, embedded it in his right arm. Tanek immediately lost his grip on the crossbow.
More lights were put out. Everything was taking on a crimson shade from the light of the baleful moon.
The remainder of the Tsar’s soldiers were climbing out of their vehicles, but were being picked off by the three Hoods who’d come out of the mist, moving forward and firing all the time. One was not using a bow and arrow, but a shotgun.
Meanwhile, the Hood with the sword was helping the nurse get Mary to her feet, the gentle way he was holding the injured woman speaking volumes.
“Robert,” said Adele.
Tanek indicated that the women should move off into the mist, where another figure had appeared; a fat, bald man. The mystery arrow firer, Tate.
Tanek pulled the knife out of his arm, wincing only slightly. He felt pain, just didn’t show it; he never did. As the Hood who’d thrown it – the original, of that he was certain – came towards him, he grabbed Adele and put the knife against her throat.
“Tell them to put down their weapons. Or I’ll put it to use.”
Hood paused. “Go ahead.”
Adele looked from Tanek to Hood. “How can you say that?”
“Because you’re his daughter! The Sheriff’s!” growled Robert. “Because you deserve the same as he got.”
“Take cover,” Tanek said to Adele, letting her go. There was no point pretending any more. The only two hostages worth anything were getting away. But perhaps he could do something about that. Turning the knife around, he threw it at the escaping women. He had been aiming for Hood’s pet, to put her out of her misery, but the nurse saw what was about to happen over her shoulder and positioned herself in the way. The blade slid easily into her back and she slumped forwards, falling on top of Mary.
Good enough, thought Tanek.
All around them the Tsar’s men were falling, none able to get off more than a round or two. The replica Hoods had revealed themselves now, hunting coats flapping open to show bullet-proof vests beneath. The first was the boy Mark, the other a girl Tanek had never seen before. Next, the farmer who’d shot him over a year ago.
So many here who needed to be taught a lesson.
But first: Hood. He was coming towards him – was that a limp? – sword high, enraged at the attack on the nurse. Tanek braced himself to grab the man’s forearm when he made his first swing. As it turned out, he didn’t need to.
Hood’s blow was blocked by another sword. One of the twins had left her sister behind to guard the Tsar. Hood seemed taken aback, but not as much as when she kicked him squarely in the chest. He flopped against the AFV, then slid down it.
Maybe I won’t kill her so quickly after all, thought Tanek, although he knew she hadn’t done it for him. She can keep him busy while I see to other matters.
An arrow whizzed past him and he remembered there were still four of Hood’s people out there. Picking up his crossbow and switching it to the other hand, he fired at the girl. It didn’t matter if he killed her quickly; it was the other two he really wanted to savour.
The boy dived across and pushed her out of the way, taking the bolt in the thigh. At first Tanek was mad, but it was poetic justice. Payback for the bolt the boy had shot into his calf the last time they’d met.
“Oi!” came a call just off to his right. “Remember me?” It was the other one. The fucking farmer.
“Oh, yes,” said Tanek.
“Then you remember this, dontcha,” the farmer raised his shotgun and let off a blast.
Not this time, my friend. Tanek ducked sideways to escape the shell’s bite. “And you will remember this,” he said, loosing a bolt at his enemy and nicking the man’s gun hand. He dropped his weapon.
Tanek was up and running towards him moments later, issuing a terrifying, bloodcurdling roar. He put his head down and rammed the farmer, lifting him up into the air and launching him backwards.
ROBERT MOVED JUST in time to avoid the blade, which clanked off the side of the AFV. Dammit, she was fast.
Here was he thinking that the difficult part had been creeping up and fixing the Tsar’s men while Mark, Sophie and Bill created their little diversion. Or getting Mary to safety... except she wasn’t yet, was she?
Mary.
Words couldn’t describe how he’d felt seeing her alive. He thought the dream was coming true (it might still, he reminded himself, all of them dead; Jack probably dead already). He wasn’t going to let that happen, even if he wasn’t quite back to full strength – and how he’d recovered so quickly was still something Robert didn’t want to question.
He recognised the woman fighting him from the dream. One of the Tsar’s bodyguards. But only one, which begged the question, where was the other? Would she attack when he least expected it?
Robert silenced the thoughts – he needed to concentrate, to keep dodging this twin’s swipes. Over her shoulder he saw Tanek shoot Mark and go after Bill. If he could get rid of the bodyguard, he might be able to help them.
This time he met her sword with his, sending shockwaves up his arm, across his chest and into his bad shoulder – strapped up under his coat and bullet-proof vest. He groaned, which seemed to spur the woman on. She beat at his sword, hacking it like a woodsman chopping at a tree. Each time the pain was tremendous.
Robert waited for her to do it again, then pushed forwards, hooking their hilts together and headbutting her. He tried to wrench the sword from her grasp while she was dazed, but it took her seconds to recover and she disentangled the swords with practised ease. He was woefully outclassed. Here was someone who’d spent years studying with this weapon, while Robert – although this came naturally to him – had only been using his a little over a
year. Good enough to tackle machete-wielding cultists, but out of his depth with a true professional. He had to get that thing away from her before she –
Another swipe, this one slashing his combat trousers, almost cutting into his good leg. He was just about managing on it, but if she wounded that one as well...
Spinning round, she came at him again. No respite, no pause for breath. Robert found himself being forced backwards, losing ground. He couldn’t hold her off much longer.
Suddenly, she drooped. Something had struck her from behind; as she fell to the side, Robert saw Tate wielding his walking stick, the hard wood still wet with her blood.
“Now Robert!” For a moment he thought the Reverend was advocating murder, but Tate quickly clarified: “Disarm her, now!”
Robert brought down the hilt of his sword on her clenched fist, which opened like a sprung trap.
A thought struck him. If the Reverend was here, then who was watching Mary? Robert searched for her, zeroing in on the spot where Lucy had been murdered, brought down on top of Mary. Tate had at least managed to pull Mary out from under the dead woman, but now Robert saw Adele approaching her. And she had a gun; one of Mary’s Peacekeepers, in fact.
Shit! He began to go after De Falaise’s daughter, but before he could move, he felt a presence behind him – vaguely heard Tate’s “Look out!” The other twin was there, had come to save her sister. Was bringing down her blade on his blind spot.
About to cut into the side of his neck and deliver her master the Hooded Man’s head.
MARY!
She heard the voice but it was dull, muffled.
Mary, you’re in big trouble again. Even worse than before! Mary, you have to wake up. Have to get up! She’s coming for you!
She would have asked her brother who, but Mary didn’t care. Her whole body was numb, from the cold or because of the last thing she really remembered: things, heavy things, falling on her.
Adele, David told her, the harpy who did that to you. She’s on her way over here with Dad’s pistol – your pistol! – and she’s going to finish the job. Mary! Mary, PLEASE!
She told him to leave her alone. The blackness was calling again, regardless of the fact she thought she’d seen a glimpse of Robert.
David wouldn’t leave her alone.
Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary. On and on like a stuck record, telling her that she was in danger, telling her that she was going to die. (Funny, she thought she had already.) Telling her that Adele was coming.
Adele.
That’s right. The one who was all over Robert, who led Jack on. Who tricked you all, Moo-Moo. Lucy’s already dead, she died trying to save you.
Lucy? No...
Finally, an answer. Hallelujah! Now look, Adele’s coming, so you have to do something or Lucy will have died for nothing!
But I can’t move, David. I was blown up!
You can move, it’s just that you’re telling yourself you can’t. You’re giving up Moo-Moo, and if there’s one thing I never thought you were it’s a quitter.
It’s so hard. Too hard.
Bull. Get up Mary. Get up, or you’ll just prove Dad right. He always said that you could never do a man’s job, that you were weak.
Mary felt her hand twitch.
Do you think that’s what Robert thinks, as well? Does he think you’re weak, not up to being by his side?
Mary’s fingers began to curl.
He thinks you’re a –
“– useless wretch. Look at you. This will almost be a mercy killing.” Suddenly Mary was listening to Adele. The woman was close – close enough to fire at any moment – but she obviously wanted to vent first. “You were there, weren’t you? When my father’s life was cut short. You were partly responsible. You and that bastard who sleeps with dogs. Flea-ridden dogs like you!”
Mary’s fingers balled into a fist.
“But both will die. First you, and how fitting it should be by your own weapon. Then him. If there is anything left after the Tsar’s bodyguard has finished.”
“Robert...” Mary gargled.
“What was that? Are you trying to speak? Are you begging me for your life, Mary? Is that it?”
Mary said something unintelligible.
“I did not catch that. You will have to beg louder.” The voice was close now. Very close.
Mary lashed out with her fist, connecting with Adele’s cheek. She heard a surprised shriek, then a bang close to her ear as the Peacekeeper went off. There was a ringing in her head, but she said the words again, louder, not knowing or caring whether they were heard: “I said, shut your filthy mouth or... or I’ll shut it for you!”
Then she opened her eyes.
IT HURT LIKE nothing he’d ever felt before. Not even having his little finger cut off compared.
Because that was quick, over in a flash, and although the pain lingered, it dulled to a throb eventually. This? This was different. Every time he moved his leg it felt like someone sticking a knife into it. Not a knife. A giant splinter. Mark hissed through his teeth as he shifted position and the bolt in his thigh moved again.
“Oh, my God, Mark. Shall I pull it out?” asked Sophie, squatting next to him.
Mark didn’t know. Were you supposed to pull them out? Would he bleed to death if she did that? Mary would know, but... Mary was out of it at the moment. Better than dead, he reminded himself, as he’d told Robert she was. Imagine, thinking the woman you loved was –
That’s why Mark acted when he saw Tanek pointing his crossbow at her. The same reason he’d protected Sophie back at the castle, and even when they’d first met. At least he’d had a chance to tell her. At least if they bought it, she knew. He looked into her eyes. Now she was really looking at him, and all the panic, the fear he saw in her eyes was gone. He saw only one thing. One thing that made him want to fight. That made him want to survive this and keep Sophie safe.
“Aaauughh!” he cried out, the moment broken.
The bolt was being pulled, and he thought, to begin with, it was Sophie going ahead with the makeshift operation regardless. When Mark looked down, he realised his mistake.
There was Tanek, pulling and twisting the bolt, then shoving it back in. “How does it feel, boy? What you did to me?”
It felt bad, really bad. Not because of the pain, or because he’d shot Tanek back on that platform. Mark was actually regretting not being a better aim, not having another chance.
Tanek didn’t look like he was going to give it to him. The big man had finishing playing with the bolt, and had slung his crossbow over his shoulder. He grabbed Mark by the scruff of the neck, dragging him round and hoisting him up.
Tanek whirled him around like he weighed nothing. He lashed out, his fist catching the side of Tanek’s head, but Mark suspected it probably hurt him more than it did the giant. Where was Jack when you needed him?
As if reading his mind, Tanek suddenly said: “First you, then the farmer... Nostalgic. Pity your tall friend is not here, but I think I broke him during our torture session.”
Having been on the receiving end of one of those, Mark could well understand how. Now, on top of everything else, he was worried about what this sadist had done to Jack.
“Now, boy, I break you.”
Tanek lifted Mark up sideways, facing the sky. Although he couldn’t see it, he imagined Tanek had raised his knee, in preparation for dropping Mark across it. A thigh wound, he might be able to get over, but a broken back? No chance.
“Yah!” Tanek let out, and Mark thought it was a cry of victory before dropping him. He fell, sharply, and Mark braced himself for the impact... which never came. Instead, his whole body fell and smacked flat against the concrete of the car park. It winded him, but at least he could still move.
For some reason Tanek had let him go. As Mark raised his eyes he saw the figure of Sophie on the giant’s back, riding him like he was giving her a piggy-back.
She was clawed the sides of his head, raking his eyes with her nail
s. Tanek shouted again: “Gah!” Mark bet it was the closest they’d ever get to hearing him scream.
He was reaching up to grab Sophie’s wrists, to prevent her from doing any more damage, but she was holding on like a rodeo rider. Desperate to keep Tanek away from Mark.
Saving him.
THOUGH IT WAS agony, Robert hefted his sword aloft, threatening to tear the rough stitches in his shoulder wound.
But he caught the other twin’s blade just in time. Robert twirled, still locked with her blade, but she did the same and disconnected them. Then she took a swipe at his midriff, which Robert only just stepped away from. She was definitely pissed at their treatment of her sister. So much so that she’d left her master’s side to come to her aid, probably fearing Robert would kill her twin. Which would be no more than she deserved, but only as a last resort.
Probably should have, though, he thought when he saw the first twin getting up again. She retrieved the sword and turned it on Tate. He blocked it with his stick, which was just about thick enough to take it – but splintered nevertheless.
They had to end this, and quickly, before either he or Tate wound up being skewered.
Meeting the blows of the second twin’s sword – which, if anything, were harder than her sister’s – Robert tried to manoeuvre her around. He hoped Tate could see what he was trying to do, but didn’t have time to make sure. He was too busy trying to keep himself alive.
Clang, clang. Robert blocked another swing. Clang! And another. He couldn’t keep it up for much longer.
He felt something press against his back. “Reverend, time for evil to face itself again.”
“Agreed,” panted Tate.
“On three... one...” Robert lashed out at the twin in front of him, expecting Tate to do the same on his side. “Two...”
“Three!” shouted Tate.
Robert dived to the left – he had no idea whether Tate was going that way or the other. It didn’t really matter. The result was the same. Both twins had gone in for the kill, lunging in retaliation to Robert and Tate’s swipes. Their blades entered each other at the same time – the one Robert was fighting taking hers slightly higher than her sister, just beneath the ribcage. They remained like that for a moment or two, eyes wide, staring at each other. Perhaps they couldn’t believe they’d been caught out by such a simple trick. Or perhaps they were relieved they’d die together?
