The Two Torcs

by Debbie Viguié

  She didn’t know what she could do to stop the vision from coming true. She just knew that she had to. Chastity couldn’t stand it if something happened to Marian, who had not only been her lady, but had also been her friend since they were both very young. Marian was everything that was good and right in the world. She was someone to believe in.

  She took a deep breath, waiting for the guards to clear the corners of the wall, then she ran, fleet as a deer across the small stretch of open ground where she was most likely to be caught.

  She made it to a patch of shrubs that concealed her and gave herself a moment to catch her breath. She was dressed in dark clothes from head to toe to match her need for stealth, and kept her eyes moving, making sure that no one was following her.

  No one, and no thing.

  Chastity had caught just the barest glimpse of one of the Sheriff’s pets a few nights ago as it wrapped itself around his collar, pretending to be naught but a fur stole. She knew better, though, and kept a careful eye out for it or any other minions that might do the Sheriff’s bidding.

  She’d planned to charm a groom into letting her borrow a horse, but had decided it was safer if no one knew she was leaving the castle. It would be a long walk, but at least none would be the wiser, except for Marian.

  Slipping further into the bushes, she moved quiet as a mouse. Her wary eyes darted ahead and behind. At last she began to move at a faster pace—she’d need speed to make it to Sherwood on foot and accomplish her mission.

  There was an elusive scent on the wind that seemed to disappear and reappear periodically. The farther she made it from the castle, the stronger it became. It was smoke. Not the warm, smoky smell of a hearth fire, but a deep, acrid stench. Something sickly sweet floated on the air with it, and the stronger the scent became, the more her insides twisted.

  She didn’t want to know where the smell was coming from.

  When she finally made it to the forest she began to breathe a bit easier. The stench wasn’t as strong, and she was off the roads and safe. Most folks were afraid of Sherwood, of the haints and fey that were said to roam it. She didn’t discount the existence of such creatures, but after seeing what the Sheriff and Prince John were capable of, she didn’t fear them, either. There was no darkness in the forest that could equal the one outside it.

  Once among the trees she was confronted with a new problem. Marian had said she wouldn’t need to find the Hood—that the Hood would find her. Chastity didn’t know why, but it sent a little chill up her spine to think about it like that. How could Robin know if she stepped foot in Sherwood unless he, himself, was one of the fey?

  She didn’t know, and she shrugged aside the thought. Marian had sent her with a job to do, and she planned to do it. It might just not happen exactly as her lady had said.

  It was dark in the forest but there was just a little light, enough that she could see a few feet in front of her.

  She began to walk slowly. A blast of wind startled her, lifting stray hairs from her neck with a touch that seemed almost human. She pressed a hand over her heart and kept going.

  She walked another couple of minutes, trying to accustom herself to the sounds of the forest around her. Her feet crunched in the snow. The wind whistled in the leaves. Nearby a small animal rustled in a bush.

  Leave.

  She started, spinning around.

  There was no one there.

  Chastity couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the blood pounding in her head. She stood a moment, fists clenched, defying whatever had spoken, daring it to show itself. She couldn’t deny the fear that was blossoming inside her. She couldn’t leave, though.

  Turning slowly, she resumed her course. She walked a couple more minutes and had just begun to relax when something brushed against her arm.

  Run away.

  Spinning, she took off at a sprint, then pulled herself to a stop. It was as though her body had been compelled against her will. It had cost her valuable ground, running back toward the tree line.

  Heart in her throat, she forced herself to turn back around.

  “I will not leave,” she said, her voice low. “I need to find the Hood.”

  Only silence answered her.

  Even the wind and the animals had grown quiet, and the absence of sound was more frightening than the disembodied voices. She began to walk, purposefully putting one step in front of another. When she came back to the spot where she had been, she tensed, waiting to see if the voice would come again.

  It didn’t, but she did see a thin twig that crossed her path. It was the hand that had reached out and touched her. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that there was worse outside the forest than there was inside.

  * * *

  It was well after nightfall when Much made it back to the outlaw camp. The men there welcomed him and shared his sorrow, and before long he realized that he was one of them. A man without a home. He did have a cause, though—one for which he would fight.

  He found a place to put his stuff, a little plot of dry dead grass just for him. It wasn’t like home, but it would be home until things were set right again.

  The men offered him some food, but he wasn’t hungry. Old Soldier told him that eating was wise, even if he didn’t feel like it. Much relented and put some of the meat and bread in his stomach. He felt a sense of accomplishment when he didn’t immediately vomit them up.

  Soon the others began to bed down for the night. Much lay down as well, but he wasn’t tired. His mind was busy reliving everything that had happened that day. It seemed like impossibly much for a single day. He wanted to cry there in the dark, but the tears wouldn’t come, as if too stubborn or too proud to reveal themselves.

  He heard a bird call, and it struck him as strange. He turned and saw a shadow standing in the tree line.

  It took him a moment to realize that it was Robin. He didn’t know how he knew—the face was obscured—but he just did. The line of his shoulders, the bearing Robin couldn’t shake no matter how primitively he chose to live.

  As he watched, the bird that had called—a raven, he believed—swooped down and perched on the man’s shoulder. It leaned its head toward the man’s ear and twittered, as if it was telling him a secret. Much stared in fascination as the man nodded, and then turned and melted into the forest.

  Without hesitation Much rose. He wanted to know very badly what the bird had told Robin. He didn’t know why, but it felt important. He walked into the forest, trying to tread lightly but knowing that he made a terrible amount of noise compared to the person in front of him, who seemed to make no more sound than a shadow as he moved beneath the trees.

  He finally came to a stop, unsure of which direction Robin had gone.

  “There’s an intruder in the forest.”

  Much turned, somehow not surprised that Robin had managed to walk up behind him undetected.

  “What will you do?”

  “I will go and see what she wants. Stay here with the others. I might have need of you later.”

  Much dipped his head in acknowledgment.

  Robin laid a hand on his shoulder. “I was sorry to hear about your family,” he said, his voice kind.

  “Thank you,” Much said. He couldn’t help but wonder if the raven had told Robin about that, too.

  * * *

  She was going in circles. All the trees looked the same, and the path had dwindled to nothing but a wider expanse of snow that masked a jumble of low growth gone brittle in the cold. She hadn’t found her own footprints, but for all she knew the forest was covering them. Chastity finally paused to rest herself a moment and try to get her bearings. She’d done her best to walk in a straight line, but the forest could be deceiving and the canopy overhead kept her from getting her bearing. She was a little surprised that she hadn’t heard anymore whispers. They had faded as she made her way deeper into the woods.

  At least she hoped she was deeper in the woods.

  A sudden low growl caus
ed the hair all over her body to stand on end. She turned her head slightly to the left and saw a pair of glowing eyes, staring fixedly at her. Her first thought was of the Sheriff’s nightmare pets, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

  A second growl came from her other side, and she turned quickly. Another pair of glowing eyes were upon her. This pair was bobbing up and down slightly, moving toward her. Seconds later she saw a giant wolf, fangs bared, its sides lean with hunger.

  Behind her more growling. She didn’t know how many of them there were, and forced herself to stand still, wishing that she had more of a weapon than the dagger tucked into her bodice. For the first time since Marian had commanded her to carry it with her, she felt as if she might need it.

  She also realized, however, that it would be useless against an entire pack of starving wolves.

  She shouldn’t run. Someone had said that once when she was little, and she struggled to remember who. If she ran, they would chase her and tear her to pieces. She turned slowly, trying to determine how many there were. They circled around behind her and then stepped slowly forward, five of them. She moved away and they kept walking toward her, adjusting their course a couple of times until she had the distinct impression that they were herding her somewhere.

  Yet they never attacked.

  The pace picked up, and when she tried to slow down, one growled and moved closer. She resumed her normal walking speed and he dropped back with his brothers. At last they stopped walking, and so did she, wary of what might lie ahead in the shadows.

  The wolves stood for a moment, heads cocked to the side as though listening to something, and then they melted back into the forest.

  She stared, trying to catch a glimpse of them, but they were gone. She turned around, wondering where it was they had brought her. She listened, but heard only the sound of wind and woodland creatures. Was there something she should do, say, to draw the attention of the Hood?

  A raven landed on a branch nearby, letting out a piercing cry that caused a chill to snake down her spine. The bird regarded her, staring at her as intently as the wolves had.

  “I need to speak with you,” she said out loud.

  Only silence greeted her. She had been foolish to think that it would be otherwise. She started to take a step forward, but then stopped as she felt cold steel touch her throat.

  “There are far worse things in this forest than wolves,” a voice rasped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “I do not fear what is in the forest,” Chastity said, half of the mantra that she’d been repeating to herself for the last hour.

  “What are you doing here?” The voice whispered in her ear, so close that she could feel his breath.

  Normally she would have driven her elbow into the stomach of the man standing beside her, taking her chances with him and the knife he held. Instead, something urged her to stand completely still and answer his question.

  “I am come with a message from my lady, for the Hood,” she said. “It is urgent.”

  At least her voice was steady, which was surprising given the panic she felt.

  For a long moment he didn’t reply.

  “It’s dangerous to walk alone in the forest.”

  “More dangerous still to walk alone outside the forest,” she countered.

  The cold steel lifted from her throat and she did her best not to show her relief. A moment later Robin walked in front of her, eyes narrowed.

  “Is something wrong with Marian?” he asked.

  “So many things are wrong,” Chastity said. “John has locked her in the tower, and she needs to escape. The cardinal came to see her yesterday, and John and his men took him prisoner. I fear for his life.”

  “Why does Marian need to escape?” Robin asked sharply.

  Chastity shook her head. “She did not tell me why, just that it had to be done and done quickly.”

  “So quickly that she bid you to come tonight?” Robin questioned.

  “Yes—I would have come last night, but we feared they might expect it,” she replied. “As I said, there is no time to waste.”

  Robin frowned. “Has word reached her of what happened today at the monastery?” Robin asked.

  “No, we have heard nothing,” Chastity said. Then she asked, “Why?”

  Robin hesitated, and suddenly she knew. “When I was making my way to the forest, I smelled smoke… and something more.”

  “The Sheriff burned the monastery, and killed every man of it, save Friar Tuck and the cardinal.”

  Chastity had thought herself hardened to the horrors committed by John and his monsters, but this shook her to her core. Burning tapestries was one thing. Burning holy men was quite another.

  “Then we have even more cause to fear for Cardinal Francis’s safety,” she said, voice quavering.

  Robin nodded. “It would not surprise me if he was already dead.”

  “Something has to be done.”

  “It will be,” Robin said, his voice carrying a dark promise.

  “What shall I tell my lady?” Chastity asked.

  “Tell her I am coming for her,” Robin said.

  “John is planning a great gathering of the nobles on the solstice, with games and a feast,” Chastity said. “They are scheduled to arrive in two days’ time to begin a week of festivities leading up to it.”

  “Then I will arrive with them,” he answered. “Tell her to be ready.”

  Chastity nodded.

  “And now it is time for you to return.”

  “I have lost my way,” she admitted.

  Robin whistled softly, and a gray shadow appeared at his side. It was one of the wolves that had been herding her earlier. Robin put his hand on the wolf’s head and the animal looked up at him. Something seemed to pass between them and Chastity blinked, wondering at the connection the two were sharing. She knew from the things that Marian had said, and the gossip she heard from others, that he had always been more at home in the forest than in a house. This was different, though. The change in him was profound. It was as if he had become part of the forest, an element of nature unto himself.

  “He will show you the way home,” he said, removing his hand from the beast’s head.

  Chastity nodded.

  For the first time she was afraid of Robin.

  * * *

  Marian had been up all night, studying the book, reading it nearly non-stop since the cardinal had pressed it into her hands.

  She couldn’t risk going to sleep, though. Fear drove her onward—fear that someone might discover it, and take it away. She couldn’t allow herself to be separated from the book before she’d gleaned the information she needed. The combination of diligence and study left her beyond exhausted.

  Cardinal Francis had revealed that she and Robin needed to take it to the heart of Sherwood, before the winter solstice. Something would happen there that would help them in their battle against John. Every second seemed to be slipping, the solstice marching steadily closer while she was no nearer to her objective.

  Panic welled up as it had more times than she could count. She forced herself to breathe. They had acted as quickly as they dared. It would have been madness had Chastity tried to leave the castle the night before.

  Recklessness would doom them to failure.

  She turned her attention back to the tiny pages. From what she could gather there were challenges, guardians to be met and defeated before they might reach the heart of the forest. This matched what they already knew. Robin had been forced to do battle in order to acquire the elixir that saved them all from the pox. When they asked what had happened to him, he had been reluctant to give any details. Whatever it was, she hoped the experience would serve them in good stead.

  * * *

  Will found himself tormented by restless dreams. Chastity’s sense of foreboding was contagious, and the sense of dread stronger within him.

  He picked up a black nightshirt and made ready to depart,
leaving his rapier behind, even though in the dark of the castle he wanted it strapped to his hip. Instead he settled for a wicked-sharp poinard he could slip into the top of his boot. Moving down the stairs, he went from the upper sleeping quarters into the main halls of the castle. Pausing at the stairway that led to the tower, he was tempted to go up and check on Marian. He resisted. To do so would simply arouse suspicion when he was stopped by the guard outside her door.

  His thoughts turned to Chastity.

  He was nobility, while she was a common wench, at least in the eyes of John and his retinue. Will could go and find her chambers without causing any suspicion at all. So he went around the back of the stairwell, and proceeded down into the bowels of the castle, where the servants quartered.

  It grew darker and darker as he moved deeper into the castle. Torches hung unlit. Arrow slits were covered in oilskin as protection against the cold winter air. Every thirty steps there was a landing. His breath fogged the air for most of the journey. Perhaps he’d chosen the wrong stairwell.

  He’d never been to the servants’ section.

  Thoughts of Chastity’s blonde hair and bright eyes kept him moving.

  After dozens of steps he noticed that his breath no longer showed in the air, and he was noticeably warmer. Was it just a little brighter down below?

  He slowed, and heard someone talking.

  So he stopped, considering whether he should carry on, or turn back. As he did so the voices became louder, and shadows danced up from below. His decision was made for him.

  He turned and dashed up to the next landing, grateful for the soft leather boots he wore. Once there he found a niche and pressed himself back into the deepest shadow, pulling the collar of his nightshirt high over his pale face.

  The sound from below became clearer as it drew closer.

  Voices.

  No, a single voice.