The Greenwood Shadow (16 page)

It was Isaiah speaking, and Isaiah approaching, but the voice was different. It was deadly serious and dangerous.

Evey's eyes exploded with black spots. Her whole world was pain. Nothing else existed. There was a silver blur, then a darker one. They didn't mean anything.

Someone cried out. It did mean something. What did it mean? Isaiah's face floated vaguely before her.

Isaiah? Who was he? Was he hurt? For some reason, she cared. She tried to understand, but it was too much. Consciousness slipped. If she let go, the pain would be gone. Yes, that was the answer. Just let it all go. No more pesky body to deal with. Nothingness would be lovely.

Sudden relief! She didn't know why. All she knew was that the stretching had stopped. But it wasn't nothingness. She could still hear something. And there were vague shadows passing over her eyes.

As her mind slowly cleared, Evey understood that the ropes had been cut loose. Her arms and legs returned to their natural state. How did they get loose? It didn't really matter. Every inch of her body still throbbed in the pain that remained, but it was bearable by comparison.

Sudden movement. It jolted her sore muscles.

Finally her eyes re-focused. The first thing she saw was an unconscious Sir Guy slumped against the far wall. He had a bruise over his eye. Then there was a doorway and a dark corridor that grew long behind them.

She was in Isaiah's arms, and he ran like an east wind.

"Put me down. I can walk," she demanded. She heard his unmistakable sigh of relief.

"Not a chance," he said. "We're getting out of here."

"I can do it myself!"

He ignored her. She shoved against his shoulder and almost toppled to the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"Put me down," she ordered.

Behind them, she heard the echoing voices of soldiers. They would only have minutes before they were caught, and she couldn't imagine getting a very merciful reception after the fiasco they had just caused.

"They're coming," she said unnecessarily. "Seriously, put me down. We've got to go."

Isaiah hesitated, but he was tired too, and probably hurting as much as she was. Finally, he stopped and carefully lowered her feet to the ground. The moment she put weight on her legs, she wished she could pass out.

But that wasn't a choice. What they had to do was run. She gritted her teeth, and started to jog. Her overstretched joints and back screamed with each step. She could only hope that she wasn't permanently injured from the rack. She needed those back muscles to shoot properly.

The sounds of pursuit grew louder. A surge of adrenaline covered some of the agony. They rounded a bend, and the stairs to the courtyard came into sight. They had about fifty yards to run, and only one man with an axe stood in their way. Isaiah had taken a sword from one of the guards. He pulled it from his belt and held it ready.

Just as they came level with the axe man, three things happened at once. The man swung his axe, Isaiah swung his sword, and Evey shoved Isaiah forward with all her might. A split second later the heavy portcullis slammed to the stone just where Isaiah had been standing. The axe had been meant for the rope that kept the gateway open.

There they stood, Isaiah on one side, Evey on the other, with a heavy grate in between. The axeman was on Evey's side. He smiled ruthlessly and lifted his axe high. Despite her injuries, she was too nimble to just get cloven in half. Before he even began the downward swing, she charged him, slamming her shoulder into his gut. He dropped the axe, which landed bluntly on his head, knocking him completely unconscious.

"Marion!" Isaiah had recovered from his sudden crash landing and was trying to shake the bars.

"Go!" she yelled. "They'll be here soon. Get out!"

"No! No! You promised! You promised!"

He shouted and tried to lift the portcullis with his bare hands. Whoever that was, it certainly wasn't Isaiah. Not the calm, collected, reasonable boy she had gotten to know.

"I promised what?" She leaned close to the bars to get his attention. "That I'd let you be crushed by a giant rack of wood and iron spikes?"

He paused.

"No. I promised I'd try to escape if I had the chance. But I didn't. You do. So get a hold of yourself and get out!"

"I won't leave you." He seemed marginally in control.

"Then we'll both be captured. Good plan."

She infused her words with as much sarcasm as she could. It was the only weapon she had left. Verbal sparring had never been her forte.

Isaiah gripped the portcullis and leaned his forehead against a bit of weatherbeaten wood. "But they'll get you."

A tear coursed down his cheek. It felt kind of good, knowing he cared that much. But this wasn't the time or the place.

"Look." She tried to copy his old tone of calm and reason. "There's nothing that will change that. No one is getting out of this dungeon before they fix the portcullis rope, whether you're here waiting, or not. They can't sound the alarm up at the main castle. It's your best chance to leave."

She leaned in again. Isaiah seemed so close, though there was a foot wide barrier between them. He took her hand.

"I can't... " he said. More tears ran down his face. "I can't let them hurt you anymore."

His voice cracked. She stared into his piercing blue eyes and saw nothing but pain. She didn't fully understand it, but pieces started coming clear. Everything back in the room. Their chosen form of torture. Isaiah's wild frenzy.

She couldn't think of anything to say in reply, so instead she put her other hand through the grate and touched his blackened cheek.

"I'll be okay. I promised you I'd survive, didn't I? I keep my promises."

She wasn't sure if she would be able to keep that particular one. They might kill her as soon as they caught up, which could be any second. Another promise she couldn't keep. The thought of it tore her up, but she needed him to go. At least he could live.

"It should have been me," he lamented.

"And then I'd have to be the one refusing to run away."

Isaiah didn't laugh. He just gripped her hand tighter.

"Take this."

He slid the dagger through the bars. She put it back in her boot. Just as she did, the voices from the passage cleared the last bend, and she found herself facing ten armed guards.

"GO!" she ordered, but Isaiah stayed, as if frozen to the iron. She shouted again, "GET OUT! NOW!"

The guards circled her, all carrying swords or maces. She would stand no chance against them, even if she had been fully armed. She had to let herself get taken.

The men saw Isaiah standing on the other side of the barrier. Several of them had been injured during his crazed attack. They screamed and yelled insults, but they couldn't reach him. They were just as unable to capture him as he was to save Evey.

"We'll find you, boy!" the biggest one threatened.

Isaiah ignored him. His eyes fixed on Evey. Noting this, the guard turned and slugged her in the stomach, blasting the air from her body. She fell to her knees gasping.

"NO!" Isaiah shouted again and furiously pounded his fists on the metal and wood that separated him from the others.

The guard roughly dragged Evey to her feet. She tried to struggle, but she still had no air to fuel the fight. A man grabbed each arm and pulled her limply down the path to her cell.

"MARION!" Isaiah screamed louder, sobbing and beating the portcullis. "No! NO!"

The soldiers forced her deeper into the dungeon. Isaiah's voice faded away, but at least he was safe. They couldn't get to him. She stumbled into her cell, where she collapsed to the ground. Everything hurt. Her body burned in agony. Her mind spun wildly. For a long while, all she could think about was Isaiah pounding on the bars, trying to get to her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The days crawled by, seeming more like months. The beatings came sporadically, and without warning. All she had to measure time by was the arrival of the morning meals, which had seriously deteriorated since her recapture. If the bread wasn't moldy it was stale and too hard to bite. But it was bread, and she started to care less and less how it was served to her, as long as it was.

A week after the escape attempt, Evey dozed in the sparse pile of straw on the floor. Once again, the heavy door scraped loudly on the stone. Several people entered, and she involuntarily flinched. She'd always been tough, but even her bruises had bruises, now.

This time seemed different, though. The soldiers didn't attack immediately, and someone else entered with them. Whoever it was held a torch in front of himself, hiding his features. Unfortunately she recognized the knight's standard well enough.

"How is your nose, Sir Guy? Painful, I hope."

"You do get straight to the point, don't you?"

He put the torch in a bracket, revealing his now crooked nose.

Evey smiled. "So, to what do I owe the honor?"

"I am but your humble news bearer, my lady," he replied, echoing her sarcastic tone. "I thought you might like to know about the upcoming execution."

"Execution? Whose?"

"Yours."

His face split into a grin of wicked pleasure. Evey gulped, and couldn't reply. Her wit and her mouth had both gone dry.

"You have five days left, my lady."

Gisbourne enjoyed that taunt a little too much. Evey considered adding a second black eye to his already damaged face.

"Well, you are, indeed, the bearer of fine news," she jeered, trying not to let her voice break. "You see, the sooner the execution, the sooner Robin Hood will hunt you down. He'll not let me make the trip to the gallows."

Of course there would be no daring rescue from Robin Hood. She had planned the remark to throw off Sir Guy's insufferable arrogance. Unfortunately, Sir Guy smiled even wider.

"Ah, straight to the point once again. I see you really are very clever. You have exposed the core of my plan. One should not underestimate you, Lady Marion."

Evey gaped. What plan had she seen right through? She did her best to hide her confusion from the knight, but Sir Guy noticed anyway.

"I see I have the advantage yet," he remarked calmly. "You are clever enough to see through my designs, yet you are baffled that I know your name. Come now, think back with me. Recall your capture, while that boy stood safely on the far side of the portcullis."

"Of course," she answered.

If she played along with his assumptions, she might actually get some answers.

Sir Guy unconsciously touched his broken nose. "Yes. He showed some bravery, it is true, but in the end he betrayed you. That black grease on your face hides your features, but that hardly matters now. We know your given name. It is only a matter of time before we find your family."

She was now grateful that she never told Isaiah her true name, despite the many times she had wanted to. At least Emeric would be safe.

"Oh yes," Gisbourne went on. He seemed to like the sound of his own voice. "We'll find them, and they shall suffer. I promise."

"But–"

"Unless of course you see fit to inform us of your friend's whereabouts."

She gave up on trying to sound clever, and just rolled her eyes. "Would it do any good?"

Sir Guy made a show of thinking about the answer.

"For them, perhaps. There is only one thing that might save you."

That was unexpected. She couldn't help but to ask, "Which is?"

"Join me. I have seen your strength, dear Marion. I would never again underestimate you. Join with me, and you would have employment to suit your adventurous spirit. Good pay, appreciation, immunity from the gallows. All things that you want."

She spat toward the man. "I would never work for such a foul creature."

"Alas. Such a loss." He shook his head. "Well, at least tell me where to find Robin Hood."

"I'll still be on the execution block, even if I do. So why bother?"

Pretending to know the outlaw seemed less and less like the safe road.

Gisbourne lifted an eyebrow. "Yes. But your family will be saved. Surely that is incentive?"

Evey narrowed her eyes. "My family wouldn't want me to sell out. They know you'll make them hurt, but it's a small price to pay."

In fact, she wasn't sure at all how Emeric would react to the whole situation. He never was an ideal model of courage. Instead, she conjured up a picture of her father, just how she had always imagined him. He was brave and just, and he wouldn't dream of betraying a friend.

"Oh, they do, do they?" Sir Guy muttered grimly. "Well, I will make them hurt. That boy, too. I'll tell them what you told me. I'm sure they'll thank you for it as they scream."

Evey took a threatening step toward him.

Sir Guy looked casually at his fingernails. "Oh well. I think I like it better this way. You do make such marvelous bait."

Ah. So that was it. Isaiah was supposed to bring Robin Hood to a dramatic rescue. Evey thought she could see where it was all going, but she pressed for more information, just in case she was wrong.