The sound was deafening.
He took a deep breath. They had come this far. He heard the rumbling again. It was definitely time to get onto solid ground and away from whatever might lurk beneath the water’s surface.
We can do this.
He measured the distance to the rock.
Just as he was preparing to jump, Marian shouted. “We need to go back!”
Startled, he lost his footing and almost slipped. He quickly regained it, however, and stood for a moment, staring at the final rock before turning to look back at her.
“What?” he asked. “But, we’re so close. Just a few more feet and we’ll have it.”
“No, there’s something wrong here,” she insisted. “I don’t like it.”
“It was your idea to go this way in the first place,” he said.
“And I hold to that still, but we need to back up and get around these rapids first.” She saw his look, and added, “I feel it, inside, there’s something wrong with that rock. I can’t explain it, but you just need to trust me.”
He stared longingly at the opposite shore. They were so close. He didn’t want to give up now.
“Robin, it will take us longer, but we need to go back,” Marian said, the urgency growing in her voice. He took a deep breath. Maybe Marian was seeing or sensing something he couldn’t. He tried to reach out to the animals here as he did in his part of the forest. None responded to him, though. Whether it was because they couldn’t or they wouldn’t he didn’t quite know.
With a shout of frustration he turned back to Marian. Instead of proceeding back upstream, however, Marian moved on a long series of rocks that brought them close to the shore from which they’d set out.
Maybe that was the answer after all, he thought suddenly. No one had actually told them they needed to cross the river. They’d just assumed it.
When they were within a foot of the original riverbank, he voiced his thoughts.
“I don’t think so,” she said, “I think the point is to keep going. If we were never supposed to cross in the first place, it would be a great trick, a clever mind trap, but it would also be lazy. Like Elian.”
“She most certainly disapproved of that,” Robin agreed. Another series of rocks zig-zagged close to the bank, and carried them downstream. The waters rushed and swirled about them and they could see dozens of sharp, jagged rocks all about, but there were still a handful of rocks that sat above the river, their tops flat enough to stand upon. One by one they navigated them until they were past the rapids.
Robin heard a sudden, deep rumbling behind them, much louder than what he’d heard before. He turned and saw movement. It was the stone on which they hadn’t stepped—the one he’d thought would take them to the far bank. He stared in fascinated horror as it lifted and fell to the side, revealing the slippery hide of a creature.
That last step would have put them on the back of a monster that was now flipping over on its side, sending spray into the air all around.
Marian followed his gaze and stared, slack-jawed.
“Move faster,” he told her.
She clamped her jaw shut, turned, and began negotiating another series of rocks, this path leading them again toward the far shore.
Every time Robin landed on a new rock he tensed all of his muscles, hoping fervently that it didn’t shift beneath his feet. They began to ache with the effort. At last they saw a final rock that led to a gentle slope in the bank.
“Marian,” he called, and he pointed to the rock.
She stared at it for a moment, and then shook her head and pointed to another one that was slightly larger, but farther from their destination. She leaped onto it, foot slipping.
He shouted and tried to lunge forward, even though he knew he couldn’t catch her if she went into the water.
Miraculously Marian regained her balance, and then leaped to the other side, grabbing hold of a tree root to help pull herself up. He followed, and when his feet were on dry ground Marian picked up a pebble and threw it at the rock she had rejected.
It sunk under the weight of the pebble.
“How did you know?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t. It just seemed off, though. The first one that turned out to be the creature was slightly wet looking, and none of the others on the path were. That one seemed… too easy, I guess.”
“You passed the test,” a familiar voice said.
Robin turned to see the girl standing on the shore beside them. Her chin didn’t even come up to his chest.
“A ruler must be willing to hear advice, weigh the evidence they have, listen to their instincts, and be flexible enough to change course quickly,” she said in a matter-of-fact sing-song. She wore a smug expression.
Robin nodded. “Your instincts were correct,” he said to Marian.
“Thanks,” she breathed. “There’s something about this place—I feel more attuned to it. It’s almost as if it is an extension of my body, or vice versa.”
His pouch squirmed. He opened it and pulled out Champion, whom he set on the ground. The fox stood stiffly, then shook himself, taking quick gulps of air. Then he stared at them as if to say, never again.
* * *
“Where do we go from here?” Marian asked the second guardian.
“To the Oak.”
“Show us the way.”
“You already have that which you need to find it,” the girl creature said.
“I don’t understand,” Marian said.
“I knew you were coming. I knew of your need long before you did. In preparation I gave you a gift, and I see that you have cared for it as I knew you would.”
Marian glanced down at the little fox.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her heart beating a bit faster. “How could he be a gift?”
“He is a woodland creature, born in the shade of the Oak itself, with the instincts to return if brought far enough by one who had raised him.” The blue girl smiled at the look on Marian’s face. “I took the kit from its mother, left it for you to find. If you were worthy, if you were the one, it would be your child, you its mother, and it would one day lead you home.”
Marian stared in astonishment as she remembered when they had found Champion. Even then Robin had been surprised that the kit was so close to the road. It hadn’t been an accident then; they were meant to find him, to care for him. And Robin had been right. They needed to bring him along on this quest.
“Lead him one hundred steps that way.” The guardian pointed with a long, bony arm. “Then let him lead you.”
Marian nodded. “Come on, Champion,” she said, her voice quavering slightly.
She began to walk in the direction the guardian had pointed and the fox went with her, bouncing along. Robin followed.
She counted her steps and as she approached one hundred she slowed, and then stopped. She looked down at the tiny bundle of red fur.
“Take us home, Champion,” she whispered.
The little fox looked up at her, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. Then he suddenly cocked his head and turned, his nose twitching. He smelled something that had caught his interest. He took a step, then another. Trotted a few feet away and then turned, as though anxious to make sure she was following.
She did so, and when she had reached his side he took off again, forcing her to hurry to keep up.
* * *
Little John returned alone to the old camp. Friar Tuck had begged him not to go, but there were weapons they’d left behind, and he wasn’t going to abandon them if it could be helped.
Plus moving was the only thing that kept him from feeling like the cold was freezing his very marrow. He had never been fond of ice and snow, and this winter, coming so hard, so early, it just seemed to chill him in a way he had never known. It was unnatural, but he didn’t like to think about such things if he could help it.
He didn’t like breaking camp, but at least it gave him the ability to move, and chase away
some of that freeze deep inside.
He didn’t know if he believed in the friar’s visions. He wasn’t sure what he believed in anymore, but he knew that a good steel blade would protect you from a lot of evils.
Everything seemed quiet as he entered the small clearing. He made a beeline for the things they’d missed, sitting behind a log. He would grab what he could and be gone within a minute. Not enough time for some great monstrosity to descend upon him.
He stooped down and began slinging the extra bows over his shoulder. The quivers would be next and then he’d carry the swords in his arms.
A sudden, foul stench assaulted his nostrils, like an animal dead and rotting. It was so terrible he thought he was going to retch. He stood, turning to see where the smell could be coming from.
Not five feet from him stood a monster who loomed taller than him—something he had never imagined. It had a head crowned with blood-stained antlers.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Champion bounded ahead, leaping through the undergrowth and knocking snow from the shrubbery. At times he pulled out of sight, over some ridge or down some hollow. Even so, they were able to follow his trail.
Finally they climbed a ridge, Robin pulling Marian up behind him. They turned and gasped in awe.
Down the other side, in the center of a long canyon, stood the mightiest oak they had ever seen. It loomed far above the canyon floor, a vision of symmetry, its boughs still green as spring and thick with foliage.
“That’s…” Robin struggled for the word.
“Astounding,” Marian finished.
Tears formed in Robin’s eyes. “I could stare at it forever.”
Marian took his hand.
“It calls to me,” he said. “It wants me to draw near.”
“I feel it, too.” And she did, like a knot of homesickness behind her breast.
“Then let us heed the summons.”
They made their way down the slope and across the flat ground of the canyon bottom. It was chilly in the shade of the primordial oak, but not bitter like the winter air had been on the other side of the gateway.
In front of the tree they found a very tall man.
He sat, impossibly long legs crossed beneath him, eyes closed as though in prayer or meditation. His grayish skin was covered with markings, ancient symbols, only a few of which Robin had seen before. Before him on the ground lay two swords, both of silver that shone brightly.
They came to a stop in front of him.
Marian cleared her throat, and the man opened eyes that were slitted like a cat’s. He regarded her calmly.
“Are you the third guardian?” she asked. “The one of the soul?”
“I am.”
“We are here to place a book at the heart of Sherwood,” she said.
“You would be queen,” the man said, and he turned to Robin. “Are you king?”
“I have no desire to be king,” Robin replied quietly. “I do, however, need to stop John from destroying all of England.” As he spoke, he was unable to take his eyes off the symbols.
“In order to do that you need a king,” the man said. “So, if not you, then who?”
Robin was about to respond when Marian spoke up.
“We are here to receive the right to rule as king and queen,” she said. “What must we do?”
Robin shot her a puzzled look, but remained silent.
“To be a ruler, a true ruler, you have to be willing to sacrifice for the people, for the land.”
“We have already sacrificed much,” Marian said.
“But not all,” he informed them. “You’ve bled for it, yes, and you are willing to die for it, but can you sacrifice the thing you love for it?” the tall man asked. “And along with it, your hopes for your own future?”
Marian looked at Robin.
“One person may claim the prize,” the tall man said. “Only the one.”
Robin stepped back. “Then I forfeit to her.” This time she wore the look of surprise.
“That is not good enough,” the tall man said. “Not good enough by half.”
“You should have come alone,” Marian said to Robin.
“He would have never found here without you.” The tall man leaned back, pushing the swords forward with his foot. “No victory without sacrifice, children.”
Robin stared at the swords. There had to be another way. None of these tests were ever quite what they seemed.
I will not fight Marian. That, at least, was a certainty, and he was sure she would feel the same. “What shall we do?” he asked her.
She stared hard at the tall man. “There is no way for one person alone to pass the first guardian, the trees, is there?”
“No,” he answered.
“Two must pass, two must cross…”
“In order that two may battle. There is no winner without blood being spilled, no sovereign, no saving your world.”
“I suppose we duel.” Marian picked up the swords, holding one out to Robin. They were heavier than they looked, the weight of them in the tip of the blade. He didn’t take it.
“I have a sword,” he said.
The tall man smiled. “The blade of iron and steel, stained by the hand of the invader in the blood of your people.” He shook his head “You cannot use that to gain the sovereignty. Defend it? Yes, but not to win it.”
Reluctantly Robin took the sword from Marian. The moment his hand gripped it, something changed, it was though the sword was speaking to him, much like the black arrow. His flesh tingled where it touched the weapon and inside him all the rage, all the aggression, he had ever felt and more swelled up like a wave.
Across from him Marian’s teeth were gritted and there was a wild, savage kind of gleam in her eye.
“King through combat,” Robin breathed. “The stronger, the faster.”
“The old ways,” Marian hissed.
“You are quick, children,” the tall man said wryly.
Marian raised her sword and slid back into the on-guard position. Terror rose up in Robin, the equal to his anger. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t stop himself from raising the tip of his sword. It was as though his arm and the sword were in perfect agreement with each other, possessing each other, and were ready to slash Marian to ribbons while the part of him that loved her, that would never harm her, could only watch helpless and horrified.
“Do you know how to use that?” she asked. “You are a bowman, after all.” And what terrified him most was he couldn’t tell if she was expressing concern, or mocking him.
“I’ve a passing knowledge.”
“I learned from the Lionheart himself,” she said, “so you will have to do your best.”
“She is correct.” The tall man stood, and he looked at Robin with eyes that seemed to see inside of him. “You can not make mockery of the Thynghowe by not striving to win. The sword will not allow it. You are committed now. Only one will stand. Her or you.”
“I won’t harm her,” Robin protested, even though he knew there was no way he could stop himself.
“Enough talking.” Spinning, Marian lunged at Robin.
* * *
The sound of steel upon steel rang across the canyon, rolling up the walls and skipping over the ground. Marian’s heart was breaking and she wanted to scream in her anguish, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. The sword pulled out of her all her skill, all her speed, all her agility.
Robin and Marian parried back and forth, striking at each other. Marian had been taught a controlled form, keeping her blade close to her body to block attacks, and then using the strength of her shoulder to push her own blade in short chops and thrusts.
Robin swung his sword with reckless abandon, sending it in wide arcs and sweeping cuts. He used the entirety of his body, twisting at the hips to hack and slash as if he were a woodsman clearing a path. He committed his full body to each strike. Against a less skilled opponent he would have destroyed their defense, crashing over it like a floo
d over a hut, and cutting them down. However Marian was too skilled, too quick, too clever in her own mechanics. She was the mongoose to his serpent, avoiding the bite of Robin’s blade while still striking with her own. Despite the difference in their styles, they were evenly matched.
Neither was winning.
Desperation began to slowly outweigh her pain and her fear. If one of them did not win, if they both fell dead of exhaustion, then John would win and he would destroy everything they had worked to protect.
She could do nothing to stop herself. Indeed, part of her felt rage and violence and was glorying in the combat. That was the work of the sword, too. If she could not use her mind to overpower the sword, to lose on purpose, then she needed to stop fighting the sword. She needed to embrace it and the strength it gave her and use all her wits to find a way to defeat Robin.
Marian shoved her agony into a corner of her mind. She couldn’t think of him as the man she had grown to love. He was only the obstacle between her and the salvation of England, and any obstacle could be removed if one was clever enough and committed enough.
She counted Robin’s blows until she found his pattern, the rhythm into which his body naturally fell.
Just like dancing, King Richard had told her in their early lessons. If you watch your opponent long enough, you can find his steps. Learn the pulse of their flow and you can cut in.
Richard… she thought wistfully. Then she pushed that emotion, too, to the side. It was a weakness she could not afford. She focused in on Robin. And in a flash, she knew how she could let the sword taste blood.
Robin cut three times, changed direction to slash, then stepped back. Without letting him know what she was doing, she led him into his pattern.
Cut, cut, cut…
Slash…
Back.
The Two Torcs Page 26
