Epic Short Fic: The Devil You Know (Part 4)
Title: "The Devil You Know
Author: ladyarcherfan3
Word Count: 11,335 total, 2,693
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Characters/Pairings: Robin, the gang, Gisborne, the Sheriff, Robin/Marian, OC
Spoilers/Warnings: Drug induced hallucinations; set between S1 and S2
Summary: A confrontation with a revengeful element of his past sends Robin into a world where nightmares and memories blend into something far more terrifying than either.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood and related characters are not mine, I'm making no money from this.
Thanks to my beta, auroracat65.
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5
Pat 4 - Fever and Fear
Several long minutes passed after Robin entered the church. Much fidgeted, growing more worried by the moment. Suddenly, he heard the sound of Robin’s voice, shouting. He jumped up, but Djaq pulled him back down.
“Remember! Robin said not to interrupt! Quickly now, watch for guards, they could have been attracted by his shouting.”
“Fine! Fine!” Much groused. “But I am going to blame you when something happens to Robin. No, wait, I’ll blame him, and then myself.”
Djaq just rolled her eyes.
From his station near the church doors, Little John could make out most of the muffled words that were being shouted back and forth. They made no sense to him out of context, but it did not sound dangerous. There was a lull for a few moments, and all John could hear was his own quiet breathing. Then, a sudden crash broke the silence and Robin shouted in pain and surprise.
“Allan, Will!” John called as he surged out of his hiding place. “We go, now!”
Allan whistled sharply, waving his arm at Much and Djaq before turning to join the other two outlaws at the church doors.
“Much, Dajq, with me,” John ordered. “Allan, Will, guard the door. If Gisborne’s men come, warn us.”
The door swung open with a firm push from John, and the outlaws recoiled from the smoke that rolled out.
“Is he tryin’ to burn the church down?” Allan cried.
“Robin!” Much shouted, peering through the smoke.
A form appeared from the smoke. Despite his limp, Lucian could still move with speed, and he lunged out at the gang with murder in his eyes. “Damn you Locksley and all associated with you!” he bellowed as he sprang forth, a dagger gleaming in his hand.
But before the gang could so much as move to defend themselves, Lucian’s game leg caught on the edge of the step leading down from the church. He stumbled and fell. A gurgling cry escaped his lips before he shuddered and fell silent. He had fallen on his own knife.
Even as the gang stood silent and shocked, Robin screamed from inside the church. It was a cry of terror and pain.
“Robin!” Much cried again, rushing into the church. He could see better now, as most of the smoke had cleared. The rest of the gang followed.
Inside, they saw Robin backed up against a wall, eyes wide but blank. He did not react as they entered, but focused at random places along the pews and behind the altar. Every line of his body was tense, but his movements were slow and jerky, as if he wasn’t controlling his own limbs.
“What’s wrong with him?” Will asked quietly.
Djaq was sniffing the air and prodding at the medicine chest, now dumped across the floor. “That smoke . . . it is not wood smoke or incense. It is some sort of drug.” She straightened and began to cross the room to Robin. “He is not seeing this world, but one that his mind has created because of the smoke.”
Much rushed forward and grabbed Djaq’s shoulder to stop her. “Stop. I mean, I’ve seen him like this before. That’s why I remembered Lucian, and he didn’t.”
“What do you mean?” Djaq asked.
Shaking his head, Much told the gang of his first meeting with Lucian on his search to find something to help Robin in the wake of his injury at Acre. The supposed cure had forced Robin to live out his nightmares while he was awake, and he attacked Much in self defense.
Much ran his finger over the faint scar on his cheek again. “He still has his dagger now.”
“I’m going to try to talk to him, Much, and try to get the knife away from him before he does anyone harm.” Djaq looked over at Robin. “He seems to be calming. Perhaps he recognizes our voices.”
The gang stood uneasily as Djaq made her way to Robin. The man appeared to try to follow her progress, but his eyes kept darting about, wary of the rest of the gang. Just as she was within arm’s reach, Robin loosed a terrifying snarl and grabbed Djaq and put the knife to her throat.
“Don’t move,” he hissed; his voice was stilted and uneven. “Order your comrades to leave and I’ll release you. Otherwise, I’ll cut your throat .”
“Robin,” Djaq began, choked, but his simply pressed the knife harder against her throat. “Do as he says, back away.”
“No, Djaq,” Will said firmly, his eyes betraying his fear.
“We can’t just leave you - both of you!” Much cried.
“Just back away!” Djaq snapped. “If we do as he says, he eventually will come out of the dream. If not . . .”
“Out the doors, now!” John ordered.
The lads hurried out, but could force themselves no further than the steps. They shuffled around, trying to keep Djaq and Robin within sight, but to stay as far away from Lucian’s body as possible.
“I can’t believe this,” Allan muttered. “This is one of the maddest things that’s ever happened to us. One of the gang held captive by the supposed leader! Who is livin’ a nightmare or somethin’!”
The rattle of hoof beats spun them around to face whatever new threat appeared.
“What now?” Much groaned.
The horse didn’t appear, but a few breathless moments later a cloaked and hooded figure appeared from around the side of the church.
“Marian?” the gang chorused.
“What are you doing here?” Much demanded.
Marian removed her mask and scarf. “I 'm not sure. I just had a feeling . . . Where is Robin?”
“Well, that is a bit difficult to explain,” Much began but Will interrupted him.
“Robin confronted a false Hospitaller, who drugged him, and now Robin is holding Djaq captive because he thinks he’s in some sort of nightmare world where we are a threat.”
The color drained completely from Marian’s face at his words. “And you are all just standing here?” she demanded. “Your leader and Djaq are both in danger, and what are you doing about it?” Her own fear manifested as frustration.
“Djaq was trying to talk to him when he grabbed her,” Much said. “He should shake the effects of the smoke soon, but . . . this is worse than the first time.”
“The first time?” Marian whirled on Much. “What do you mean?”
“We met Lucian in the Holy Land. Well, I say met, when I mean that I got herbs from him to help Robin sleep as he was recovering from his wound; Robin had “waking nightmares” or something, and well . . . I got in the way trying to stop him, and it didn’t end as well as it might have done. He seemed to come out of it, but went out and found Lucian. I wasn’t there, but I heard later that they fought and Robin broke his leg. Lucian’s I mean. So Lucian must have come back to England looking for revenge-”
“Much!” the entire gang shouted.
“Sorry.”
Marian chewed her lip uncertainly. “Do we know how long it will take before Robin comes back to reality?”
“There was a lot of that smoke in the church, I’m pretty sure he got a good dose,” Will observed. “But the doors are obviously open now, so that should be helping.”
The sudden glint in Marian’s eye was far too close to Robin’s when he had a foolhardy scheme but before anyone could articulate a protest, she spoke.
“What if I tried talking to him?”
“D’ya see how far that got Djaq?” Allan gestured violently to the interior of the church.
Marian glared at Allan a moment before looking at Much. “You told me once Robin had dreams in the Holy Land and said my name. Were some of those dreams nightmares?”
“Well, I suppose most of them were,” Much started, “but I don’t see what that has to do with this-”
“And you told me that he is basically living his nightmares now? Yes? Let me talk to him. He may recognize me where he didn’t recognize Djaq.”
“What if he tries to hurt you?” Much demanded.
“I’ll be prepared for it.” She reached out squeezed Much’s shoulder gently. “Trust me.”
Without waiting for any further discussion from the gang, Marian walked into the church. After what she and Robin had been through, she felt that if she could not get through to him, no one could. And if she was not willing to face possible danger to help him when he needed it most, as he had done for her, what was the point of them continuing their relationship?
The fog weighed heavily on his limbs. Yet, the darkness was retreating, so perhaps it was pure weariness that pulled on him. It would be wonderful to rest; his eyes drifted shut. His captive shifted in his arms, pulling him back to awareness. Blinking rapidly, he readjusted his hold on the knife. The captive was speaking, but not to him. He looked up. The shadowy figures of the other attackers still lingered around the borders of the fog but they made no move to advance. But another, unfamiliar figure approached him slowly.
He shook his head, fighting the clutch of the fog. The new figure was not shadowy as the others had been, but seemed to have a faint edging of light. It also spoke in a language he did not understand, but it was soothing, almost familiar. Troubled, he fought to understand this new development. All he knew was that his captive was his only bargaining piece and thus would not be surrendered easily. When the figure was a few steps away, he lifted the knife to a more threatening angle on the captive’s neck.
“Stop there,” he ordered. “Who are you?”
The figure stopped and backed a step as if to give him room. For some reason, he began to refer to the figure as “she” when she began to speak again. He wondered at his stupidity in asking for an identity. He still could not understand the words that seemed to float through the air before making gentle contact with his ears.
She continued to speak long past any explanation of name, rank and purpose could have lasted. All the while, he stood silent and mute, unexplainably soothed and intrigued by her voice. He stopped grasping for understanding even though everything about it was achingly familiar. He just let it ebb and flow around him, gently brushing away at the fog.
Some unknown amount of time had passed when he realized with a shock that there were words that he suddenly understood and could put meaning to.
Robin.
He was Robin. That was his name. She was calling him by his name.
Images and words began to leap and collide in his mind.
Locksley, the gang, Sherwood, horse races, escapes, archery, chases, home, Knighton, whispered promises, fear, pain, love. . . Marian.
Marian.
A rush of images, feelings, and words swirled in his head before suddenly and inexplicably gently falling into place. Marian.
He tried the word out, slowly, stiffly, with the new found understanding of the language she had been speaking.
“Marian.”
“Robin?” The figure stepped towards him but he did nothing to stop it. “Do you recognize me?”
He blinked. The fog still lingered, the world was fuzzy and unsteady. The figure before him hovered between the light gilded shadow he had known and the truth he knew to be Marian.
“Marian?” he whispered.
The shadows around her face were fading away, leaving behind only features that he knew and loved. He focused on those feelings and thoughts; the rest of the world was too uncertain to deal with yet. She continued to speak, a calm but firm litany that rose and fell in the air around him. Words that had no meaning gently slotted themselves into place with each repetition until he understood.
“Robin. Put down the knife. It is alright. You are safe. Put down the knife. You know me.”
He glanced down at the knife against his captive’s throat. He wanted to listen to Marian, but his fear of the shadow figures lingered on.
“You are safe, Robin. Put down the knife.”
He looked back up at her. “Marian.”
“Yes. You know me. Please trust me. You are safe. I am with you. Put down the knife.”
Uncertain still, he dropped the knife on the ground but did not let go of his captive.
“Robin, you can let her go. Let her go and take my hand.” Marian extended her hand to him slowly.
He hesitated for a few long heartbeats before pulling his arms away from the captive. Strange, he had not noticed the trembling in the captive’s body until he let go. Then, he reached out and took Marian’s hand.
The world swayed around her as she stepped forward and ran her hand gently along his cheek. “Can you tell me who you are?”
“Robin,” he whispered. He heard a noise behind Marian and looked. The gang hovered on the edges of the fog. He blinked, but the shadows he thought he saw around them dissipated. “What . .?”
“Don’t worry,” Marian whispered.
Disjointed images flickered through Robin’s head. Lucian, a smoking brazier, a shadow that resolved itself into . . .
“Djaq,” he muttered, alarmed, looking around.
She had retreated to the door of the church with the rest of the gang. He could see her fear and the mark that the knife had left on her throat.
“I’m . . . sorry,” he whispered, the lingering fog making it hard to put words next to one another.
“Guards!” The distinctive voice of Gisborne rang out harshly through the near silent village.
Robin started, eyes darting about in fear. The new threat didn’t have a name in his clouded mind yet, but he knew it was not good.
“Oh, great!” Allan shouted. “Gisborne and his men are closin’ in! We need to scatter!”
“Who was keeping watch?” Much cried. “Allan, I think that was you!”
“Well, I’m watchin’ now, and they’re gonna be on us in a few seconds, so let’s move!”
Robin staggered back at the sudden tumult, his unsteady senses overwhelmed. Marian steadied him, her hands gently gripping his shoulders.
“Robin, look at me. I need you to walk with me out of here.”
They took a few steps forward, but the world lurched wildly and Robin stumbled. “Dizzy,” he gasped.
“Close your eyes and I’ll lead you out. We need to hurry.”
Robin allowed himself to be led out of the church, trusting Marian to prevent his feet from stumbling and the world from collapsing. Outside, the voices of the gang surrounded him, babbling in confusion, fear and worry.
Marian suddenly spoke to him again, her breath ghosting warm over his ear and cheek as she bent close to whisper to him.
“Robin, you need to get on the horse and ride to Sherwood. Can you manage?”
He opened his eyes and looked at the animal in front of him. He reached slowly for the stirrup but his legs didn’t want to cooperate with his arms and he stumbled against the wide grey flank instead.
“Move.”
Little John was suddenly next to him. Robin felt himself lifted into the air and quickly scrambled to stay upright as he felt saddle leather under his hands and stomach. He righted himself just as Much sprang onto the horse behind him.
“Get him to camp as fast as you can,” Marian said. “The rest of the gang and the Nightwatchman will distract Gisborne.”
“I want to help,” Robin said, a hint of petulance in his voice. He was supposed to be the one heckling Gisborne, wasn’t he? His jumbled memory was telling him that much at least and pieces continued to fall into place with each passing moment.
“Master, you’re the reason they’re doing the distracting. Please just hang on.” With that Much kicked the horse into a canter and urged it into the dusk towards Sherwood.
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Author: ladyarcherfan3
Word Count: 11,335 total, 2,693
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Characters/Pairings: Robin, the gang, Gisborne, the Sheriff, Robin/Marian, OC
Spoilers/Warnings: Drug induced hallucinations; set between S1 and S2
Summary: A confrontation with a revengeful element of his past sends Robin into a world where nightmares and memories blend into something far more terrifying than either.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood and related characters are not mine, I'm making no money from this.
Thanks to my beta, auroracat65.
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5
Pat 4 - Fever and Fear
Several long minutes passed after Robin entered the church. Much fidgeted, growing more worried by the moment. Suddenly, he heard the sound of Robin’s voice, shouting. He jumped up, but Djaq pulled him back down.
“Remember! Robin said not to interrupt! Quickly now, watch for guards, they could have been attracted by his shouting.”
“Fine! Fine!” Much groused. “But I am going to blame you when something happens to Robin. No, wait, I’ll blame him, and then myself.”
Djaq just rolled her eyes.
From his station near the church doors, Little John could make out most of the muffled words that were being shouted back and forth. They made no sense to him out of context, but it did not sound dangerous. There was a lull for a few moments, and all John could hear was his own quiet breathing. Then, a sudden crash broke the silence and Robin shouted in pain and surprise.
“Allan, Will!” John called as he surged out of his hiding place. “We go, now!”
Allan whistled sharply, waving his arm at Much and Djaq before turning to join the other two outlaws at the church doors.
“Much, Dajq, with me,” John ordered. “Allan, Will, guard the door. If Gisborne’s men come, warn us.”
The door swung open with a firm push from John, and the outlaws recoiled from the smoke that rolled out.
“Is he tryin’ to burn the church down?” Allan cried.
“Robin!” Much shouted, peering through the smoke.
A form appeared from the smoke. Despite his limp, Lucian could still move with speed, and he lunged out at the gang with murder in his eyes. “Damn you Locksley and all associated with you!” he bellowed as he sprang forth, a dagger gleaming in his hand.
But before the gang could so much as move to defend themselves, Lucian’s game leg caught on the edge of the step leading down from the church. He stumbled and fell. A gurgling cry escaped his lips before he shuddered and fell silent. He had fallen on his own knife.
Even as the gang stood silent and shocked, Robin screamed from inside the church. It was a cry of terror and pain.
“Robin!” Much cried again, rushing into the church. He could see better now, as most of the smoke had cleared. The rest of the gang followed.
Inside, they saw Robin backed up against a wall, eyes wide but blank. He did not react as they entered, but focused at random places along the pews and behind the altar. Every line of his body was tense, but his movements were slow and jerky, as if he wasn’t controlling his own limbs.
“What’s wrong with him?” Will asked quietly.
Djaq was sniffing the air and prodding at the medicine chest, now dumped across the floor. “That smoke . . . it is not wood smoke or incense. It is some sort of drug.” She straightened and began to cross the room to Robin. “He is not seeing this world, but one that his mind has created because of the smoke.”
Much rushed forward and grabbed Djaq’s shoulder to stop her. “Stop. I mean, I’ve seen him like this before. That’s why I remembered Lucian, and he didn’t.”
“What do you mean?” Djaq asked.
Shaking his head, Much told the gang of his first meeting with Lucian on his search to find something to help Robin in the wake of his injury at Acre. The supposed cure had forced Robin to live out his nightmares while he was awake, and he attacked Much in self defense.
Much ran his finger over the faint scar on his cheek again. “He still has his dagger now.”
“I’m going to try to talk to him, Much, and try to get the knife away from him before he does anyone harm.” Djaq looked over at Robin. “He seems to be calming. Perhaps he recognizes our voices.”
The gang stood uneasily as Djaq made her way to Robin. The man appeared to try to follow her progress, but his eyes kept darting about, wary of the rest of the gang. Just as she was within arm’s reach, Robin loosed a terrifying snarl and grabbed Djaq and put the knife to her throat.
“Don’t move,” he hissed; his voice was stilted and uneven. “Order your comrades to leave and I’ll release you. Otherwise, I’ll cut your throat .”
“Robin,” Djaq began, choked, but his simply pressed the knife harder against her throat. “Do as he says, back away.”
“No, Djaq,” Will said firmly, his eyes betraying his fear.
“We can’t just leave you - both of you!” Much cried.
“Just back away!” Djaq snapped. “If we do as he says, he eventually will come out of the dream. If not . . .”
“Out the doors, now!” John ordered.
The lads hurried out, but could force themselves no further than the steps. They shuffled around, trying to keep Djaq and Robin within sight, but to stay as far away from Lucian’s body as possible.
“I can’t believe this,” Allan muttered. “This is one of the maddest things that’s ever happened to us. One of the gang held captive by the supposed leader! Who is livin’ a nightmare or somethin’!”
The rattle of hoof beats spun them around to face whatever new threat appeared.
“What now?” Much groaned.
The horse didn’t appear, but a few breathless moments later a cloaked and hooded figure appeared from around the side of the church.
“Marian?” the gang chorused.
“What are you doing here?” Much demanded.
Marian removed her mask and scarf. “I 'm not sure. I just had a feeling . . . Where is Robin?”
“Well, that is a bit difficult to explain,” Much began but Will interrupted him.
“Robin confronted a false Hospitaller, who drugged him, and now Robin is holding Djaq captive because he thinks he’s in some sort of nightmare world where we are a threat.”
The color drained completely from Marian’s face at his words. “And you are all just standing here?” she demanded. “Your leader and Djaq are both in danger, and what are you doing about it?” Her own fear manifested as frustration.
“Djaq was trying to talk to him when he grabbed her,” Much said. “He should shake the effects of the smoke soon, but . . . this is worse than the first time.”
“The first time?” Marian whirled on Much. “What do you mean?”
“We met Lucian in the Holy Land. Well, I say met, when I mean that I got herbs from him to help Robin sleep as he was recovering from his wound; Robin had “waking nightmares” or something, and well . . . I got in the way trying to stop him, and it didn’t end as well as it might have done. He seemed to come out of it, but went out and found Lucian. I wasn’t there, but I heard later that they fought and Robin broke his leg. Lucian’s I mean. So Lucian must have come back to England looking for revenge-”
“Much!” the entire gang shouted.
“Sorry.”
Marian chewed her lip uncertainly. “Do we know how long it will take before Robin comes back to reality?”
“There was a lot of that smoke in the church, I’m pretty sure he got a good dose,” Will observed. “But the doors are obviously open now, so that should be helping.”
The sudden glint in Marian’s eye was far too close to Robin’s when he had a foolhardy scheme but before anyone could articulate a protest, she spoke.
“What if I tried talking to him?”
“D’ya see how far that got Djaq?” Allan gestured violently to the interior of the church.
Marian glared at Allan a moment before looking at Much. “You told me once Robin had dreams in the Holy Land and said my name. Were some of those dreams nightmares?”
“Well, I suppose most of them were,” Much started, “but I don’t see what that has to do with this-”
“And you told me that he is basically living his nightmares now? Yes? Let me talk to him. He may recognize me where he didn’t recognize Djaq.”
“What if he tries to hurt you?” Much demanded.
“I’ll be prepared for it.” She reached out squeezed Much’s shoulder gently. “Trust me.”
Without waiting for any further discussion from the gang, Marian walked into the church. After what she and Robin had been through, she felt that if she could not get through to him, no one could. And if she was not willing to face possible danger to help him when he needed it most, as he had done for her, what was the point of them continuing their relationship?
The fog weighed heavily on his limbs. Yet, the darkness was retreating, so perhaps it was pure weariness that pulled on him. It would be wonderful to rest; his eyes drifted shut. His captive shifted in his arms, pulling him back to awareness. Blinking rapidly, he readjusted his hold on the knife. The captive was speaking, but not to him. He looked up. The shadowy figures of the other attackers still lingered around the borders of the fog but they made no move to advance. But another, unfamiliar figure approached him slowly.
He shook his head, fighting the clutch of the fog. The new figure was not shadowy as the others had been, but seemed to have a faint edging of light. It also spoke in a language he did not understand, but it was soothing, almost familiar. Troubled, he fought to understand this new development. All he knew was that his captive was his only bargaining piece and thus would not be surrendered easily. When the figure was a few steps away, he lifted the knife to a more threatening angle on the captive’s neck.
“Stop there,” he ordered. “Who are you?”
The figure stopped and backed a step as if to give him room. For some reason, he began to refer to the figure as “she” when she began to speak again. He wondered at his stupidity in asking for an identity. He still could not understand the words that seemed to float through the air before making gentle contact with his ears.
She continued to speak long past any explanation of name, rank and purpose could have lasted. All the while, he stood silent and mute, unexplainably soothed and intrigued by her voice. He stopped grasping for understanding even though everything about it was achingly familiar. He just let it ebb and flow around him, gently brushing away at the fog.
Some unknown amount of time had passed when he realized with a shock that there were words that he suddenly understood and could put meaning to.
Robin.
He was Robin. That was his name. She was calling him by his name.
Images and words began to leap and collide in his mind.
Locksley, the gang, Sherwood, horse races, escapes, archery, chases, home, Knighton, whispered promises, fear, pain, love. . . Marian.
Marian.
A rush of images, feelings, and words swirled in his head before suddenly and inexplicably gently falling into place. Marian.
He tried the word out, slowly, stiffly, with the new found understanding of the language she had been speaking.
“Marian.”
“Robin?” The figure stepped towards him but he did nothing to stop it. “Do you recognize me?”
He blinked. The fog still lingered, the world was fuzzy and unsteady. The figure before him hovered between the light gilded shadow he had known and the truth he knew to be Marian.
“Marian?” he whispered.
The shadows around her face were fading away, leaving behind only features that he knew and loved. He focused on those feelings and thoughts; the rest of the world was too uncertain to deal with yet. She continued to speak, a calm but firm litany that rose and fell in the air around him. Words that had no meaning gently slotted themselves into place with each repetition until he understood.
“Robin. Put down the knife. It is alright. You are safe. Put down the knife. You know me.”
He glanced down at the knife against his captive’s throat. He wanted to listen to Marian, but his fear of the shadow figures lingered on.
“You are safe, Robin. Put down the knife.”
He looked back up at her. “Marian.”
“Yes. You know me. Please trust me. You are safe. I am with you. Put down the knife.”
Uncertain still, he dropped the knife on the ground but did not let go of his captive.
“Robin, you can let her go. Let her go and take my hand.” Marian extended her hand to him slowly.
He hesitated for a few long heartbeats before pulling his arms away from the captive. Strange, he had not noticed the trembling in the captive’s body until he let go. Then, he reached out and took Marian’s hand.
The world swayed around her as she stepped forward and ran her hand gently along his cheek. “Can you tell me who you are?”
“Robin,” he whispered. He heard a noise behind Marian and looked. The gang hovered on the edges of the fog. He blinked, but the shadows he thought he saw around them dissipated. “What . .?”
“Don’t worry,” Marian whispered.
Disjointed images flickered through Robin’s head. Lucian, a smoking brazier, a shadow that resolved itself into . . .
“Djaq,” he muttered, alarmed, looking around.
She had retreated to the door of the church with the rest of the gang. He could see her fear and the mark that the knife had left on her throat.
“I’m . . . sorry,” he whispered, the lingering fog making it hard to put words next to one another.
“Guards!” The distinctive voice of Gisborne rang out harshly through the near silent village.
Robin started, eyes darting about in fear. The new threat didn’t have a name in his clouded mind yet, but he knew it was not good.
“Oh, great!” Allan shouted. “Gisborne and his men are closin’ in! We need to scatter!”
“Who was keeping watch?” Much cried. “Allan, I think that was you!”
“Well, I’m watchin’ now, and they’re gonna be on us in a few seconds, so let’s move!”
Robin staggered back at the sudden tumult, his unsteady senses overwhelmed. Marian steadied him, her hands gently gripping his shoulders.
“Robin, look at me. I need you to walk with me out of here.”
They took a few steps forward, but the world lurched wildly and Robin stumbled. “Dizzy,” he gasped.
“Close your eyes and I’ll lead you out. We need to hurry.”
Robin allowed himself to be led out of the church, trusting Marian to prevent his feet from stumbling and the world from collapsing. Outside, the voices of the gang surrounded him, babbling in confusion, fear and worry.
Marian suddenly spoke to him again, her breath ghosting warm over his ear and cheek as she bent close to whisper to him.
“Robin, you need to get on the horse and ride to Sherwood. Can you manage?”
He opened his eyes and looked at the animal in front of him. He reached slowly for the stirrup but his legs didn’t want to cooperate with his arms and he stumbled against the wide grey flank instead.
“Move.”
Little John was suddenly next to him. Robin felt himself lifted into the air and quickly scrambled to stay upright as he felt saddle leather under his hands and stomach. He righted himself just as Much sprang onto the horse behind him.
“Get him to camp as fast as you can,” Marian said. “The rest of the gang and the Nightwatchman will distract Gisborne.”
“I want to help,” Robin said, a hint of petulance in his voice. He was supposed to be the one heckling Gisborne, wasn’t he? His jumbled memory was telling him that much at least and pieces continued to fall into place with each passing moment.
“Master, you’re the reason they’re doing the distracting. Please just hang on.” With that Much kicked the horse into a canter and urged it into the dusk towards Sherwood.
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