Shadows of Sherwood (41 page)

Robyn, Hoodlum

“That's right,” the hoodlum declared, hitching her chin up a notch. “I'm the real Robyn.”

“At last we meet,” Sheriff Mallet answered. She surveyed the defiant girl. Tall for her age, thin, skin the pale brown color of Mallet's own, and complete with the intricate braid.

Papers poked out of a pocket in her stretch pants. Mallet delighted in the fear that flashed across Robyn's face as she reached over and plucked the pages free. Green sticky notes, some kind of rhyme dashed upon them. A folded canvas.

Harmless trinkets, Mallet figured. But the pendant that hung at the girl's neck was a different story.
The crescent of Shadows, the orb of Light.
There was something in the moon lore, she seemed to remember . . .

Mallet reached toward the pendant. It would be hers now.

A small figure, limbs sprawling, came flying off the truck cab.

“Laurel!” Robyn gasped.

The blond child dove full force on top of the MP holding Robyn. She knocked him off his feet, freeing Robyn. Without hesitation, Robyn dove past Mallet's outstretched arm, off the tailgate and into the crowd of T.C. residents.

They caught her.

Now they knew who Robyn was—and the people of Sherwood were determined to protect her. She crowd surfed above a swelling chant of her name.

Mallet stood in the pickup bed, eyes narrowed. “No,” she muttered. “I had you!”

Her lip curled in disgust. The MPs appeared cowed by the lunging people; her men were showing all manner of weakness not in keeping with their training. That would have to change.

A red glow rose from the cardboard city. Much like the fire rising behind them, the crowd hissed and surged. The hoodlum Robyn floated atop their raised hands like a ship rocking at sea. Mallet surveyed the chaos and made the call.

“Let's go,” she ordered the MPs. “Leave it to burn.”

They would all learn their lesson soon enough.

The people delivered Robyn to the far edge of the crowd, away from the MPs, close to the edge of the tents. Something was wrong. The crowd fought on and the MPs began to retreat, but something was terribly wrong.

Robyn came to her feet. She could smell the campfire burning—but no, it wasn't that. This smoke carried the stench of things that should not be burning. T.C. itself was on fire.

Coughing and choking, the people in the crowd stumbled away from the edge of the shelters. Robyn gazed at the flaming cardboard.
Burn it
, Mallet had said.

No!

A flap of cardboard rustled and Chazz staggered out of the burning rubble. His eyes were closed, lungs wheezing. He was barely on his feet. Robyn reached out automatically to catch him as he lurched toward her. “Chazz!” she exclaimed. “You were in there the whole time?” How had the MPs not found him in their search?

“Heh.” He wheezed. “Been on the run a long time, girlie. I know all the tricks.” He leaned against her awkwardly as he worked to catch his breath. “Heck, they don't even know what I'm up to now. They still after me for the last round.”

Tongues of flame licked higher and higher. Soon all of T.C. would be consumed. How do you put out a fire? Robyn thought frantically.

With water
, said Key.

With air
, said Laurel.

With earth
, said Tucker.

We
are
the earth
, Nessa Croft had said.
I am inspired by air
.

Breath.

Blood.

Bone.

Your friends will help you
, Eveline had said.

The Elements mentioned in the curtain's prophecy, and the cryptic verse written on the map . . . what if they weren't the actual substances out of the earth? What if they were people?

Maybe she needed her friends' help to put out the fire. Maybe she needed their help to solve Dad's clues and decipher the message in the moon lore curtain!

Together they had saved the day already—driven Mallet and the MPs from the fairgrounds with the power of numbers. Without Laurel, Scarlet, Key, Merryan, or Tucker—without any one of them—the distraction and the escape would have utterly failed.

“Quick,” Robyn cried, pushing Chazz away. “I have to find my friends. We can put this fire out.”

“Let it burn.” Chazz caught her. “We can rebuild.”

“But—” Robyn protested, struggling against his grip. She had finally found the answer to the riddle of the Elements. She couldn't stop now. “My friends are the Elements! We can do it. We have to try.”

“Let it burn,” Chazz repeated. His gruff voice turned quietly insistent. His hands on her shoulders were firm but surprisingly gentle. “I promise you, we will come back stronger.”

Robyn's eyes filled with tears. The flames lapped and hissed as the corners of the cardboard city curled into themselves. “Everything will be destroyed,” she whispered. “What will happen to all the people?”

Chazz did not answer. Alongside them, residents of T.C. stood or crouched or knelt in a loose circle around the fire. They wept, choking and clinging to one another as billows of smoke from the burning tents wafted over them. Robyn's eyes and mouth stung.

Laurel scampered up beside her. “I tried to get the hologram back,” she said.

Robyn was relieved to see her safe after the flying rescue attempt. She held out her hand to retrieve the device. “You got it?”

The smaller girl shook her head sadly. “It's not there. I climbed all the way up both pillars to be sure.”

Robyn deflated. Her shoulders sank and her spine curved. Dad's hologram. Gone. This time, forever. Lost to the hands of the MPs, or worse, Sheriff Mallet herself?

Robyn tried to breathe, but drawing in the smoke made her chest hurt even more. She tried to think about it being okay. She had given up the hologram to save Key. To bring hope and to inspire the people. To protect T.C.—and for what? The fire still blazed. It radiated a painful heat. Soon the lot would be covered in ashes. Nothing to show for her loss but greater loss.

“We have to put it out,” she whispered. It was the tiniest, most desperate of breaths.

“We will come back stronger,” Chazz wheezed from behind her. “It's when we think we have nothing that we learn who we truly are.”

 

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

The Elements

Nothing.

No parents. No hologram. No map. No curtain verse. Nothing.

But Robyn had more than nothing. She had her friends. They gathered around, one by one. Laurel stood beside her. Key moving out of the crowd to get closer. Merryan and Tucker emerged from the woods looking horrified at the wreckage that was once T.C. Scarlet was long gone to somewhere, but Robyn knew their paths would cross again.

“We should get out of here,” Key said, rubbing his chafed wrists as Laurel picked his cuffs.

“We can't,” Tucker said. “There are people who need our help.”

Merryan nodded. One glance around told Robyn there were plenty of people wounded from the fire, or from the struggle. Clinic vans had begun to arrive. It was too late to save the structures, but not the people.

Robyn felt helpless to do anything. Tucker and Merryan
knew about helping people that way. She didn't. “There's somewhere I have to go,” she told them. “Meet us back at the cathedral, okay?”

Tucker, Merryan, and Key began to tend to the people who had been injured.

Robyn hurried back toward Sherwood, with Laurel alongside. “You could have stayed, if you wanted,” Robyn told her.

“You left me behind. AGAIN,” Laurel said. “After you promised.”

“Yeah.” Robyn suddenly felt bad about that. “Well, you're supposed to be sick.” The girl's skin still appeared slightly ashen. Her breath a bit shallower than Robyn would prefer. “That's not the same thing as before.”

“Felt the same,” Laurel grumbled.

“Well, you came anyway,” Robyn said, putting an arm around the girl. “And it's a good thing, too.”

Laurel smiled. “Where are we going now?”

“To get some answers,” Robyn said. The TexTer at her waist vibrated. The small screen said: You alive?

Robyn glanced at Laurel. Her hands were empty “What—?” She held up the TexTer.

Laurel blushed, looking guilty. “Oh. I gave it to the other girl.”

“Scarlet?”

Laurel nodded. So Robyn keyed in: I'm alive.

She felt a twinge of annoyance. Great. First the modem, now the TexTer. That girl was going to appropriate all of Robyn's coolest stuff.

As if Scarlet could read her mind, the next text read: You have cool old stuff.

Robyn answered: I want it back.

Yeah, yeah.

Okay, where?

Nottingham Cathedral.

When?

Now.

Fine.

Robyn turned to Laurel. “I wanted you to have the TexTer. So you keep it next time, okay? Don't let her trick you.”

“She didn't trick me.” The smaller girl turned even redder. “I-I don't know how to use it,” she admitted.

Robyn was confused for a second. Then it dawned on her. Laurel didn't spend much time in school. Robyn put her arm around the smaller girl. “Well, okay. I can teach you to read better, and you can teach me how to pick locks,” she said. “That seems like a fair trade.”

Laurel beamed. “And pick pockets,” she said. “I'm a really good pickpocket.” She held up a pad of green sticky notes and Robyn's folded canvas map.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO