The Greenwood Shadow (13 page)

She sprinted from her cover and met Isaiah at the box in the back. With a few twists of an iron pick, the lock opened. Evey pulled it off and Isaiah hefted the lid.

It was totally empty.

At first Evey didn't believe it. She swept her hand around inside. It touched nothing but the four sides of the box itself. They looked at each other in the dim light and Isaiah shrugged. Something definitely didn't add up. Traveling at night, empty strong box, extremely expensive carriage. What had they stumbled into?

Then her eyes went dark.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When Evey came to, she found herself facing a pale, early morning sky. She tried to sit up, then sank back to the ground with a weak moan. Her head felt like she'd caught it in the mill grinder.

After a moment her eyes cleared. Trees. Ivy. Still in the forest, then.

Isaiah stood at her feet, with his sword drawn toward something. What was happening? Why was she on the ground?

"You're surrounded now, boy, and you're coming either way, so just put down sword the and come quietly. Let's not make this harder than it has to be."

Evey struggled back into a half sitting position. The speaker was a large mace-wielding soldier. Where had he come from? Obviously they were after her, but why?

The same man said, "looks like your little lady friend is awake. Let's just get on with it."

"No," Isaiah growled. He sounded unusually fierce. She'd never seen him act like that before.

"What's going on?" Speaking made her head dizzy again, but she fought it back.

"Ambush. There were soldiers in that carriage."

Evey groaned inwardly. How could they have fallen for that old trick? It was the second time, too.

"The lad's got spirit," one soldier said. "Ran halfway through the forest before we caught up. But you can't fight four of us with one sword. Two of us have crossbows. Tell him to put the sword down, and we'll be easy on you."

"Isaiah?"

He didn't move. "I'm not giving up that easily. Not just to go to prison."

"Obviously not." She looked around the circle of soldiers. "But what do we do?"

"You finished yet?" another soldier asked.

"No, but you're about to be," Isaiah roared.

He lunged at the man farthest to the right. The soldier fired his crossbow bolt in a panic. It missed, but the mace man and the sword-wielder stepped forward. Isaiah halted again, now trapped in a very awkward stance.

Evey stood slowly. "We are innocent. What reason do you have for holding us at arrow-point?"

The mace man poked his weapon toward Isaiah. "Don't play dumb with me. I saw you feeling around inside that box."

"We didn't actually get anything," Evey said as calmly as possible. "You can't hold us for theft."

He made an exasperated face. "You're obviously in league with the outlaw himself. Tell us where Robin Hood is and we might let you go."

"Never!" Isaiah replied. He lunged again, this time at the mace-man. Both crossbow bolts flew. Again, one missed wildly, but the other struck Isaiah in the shoulder. He dropped his sword. His face twisted in pain, but he refused to scream.

"Cowards and scum!" Evey shouted. She snatched up her bow, but all the arrows were scattered on the ground.

"You had better stop there, little lady." He turned his mace toward Isaiah. "If you don't put that down, your friend here won't live to see your execution. Trust me, I am much better with my weapon than these thugs."

She believed the man. Just the look of him showed that he wasn't lying about his skill. If it were just her, Evey would have gone for an arrow anyway. But Isaiah was helpless. Just the thought of watching him die made her queasy. She released the tension on the bow and let it fall to the ground.

"I knew you looked like a smart girl. Now tell us how to find Robin Hood. I won't take 'I don't know' for an answer."

Evey clenched her fists tight. It took every ounce of control to keep from leaping for the soldier's throat. Only a glance at Isaiah's bloody shoulder quelled her anger enough to allow for reasonable thought. She blurted out the only thing that she could think of.

"You won't take an 'I don't know', but will you take a 'fifteen armed men are on their way to rendezvous at this exact spot and are due any minute'?"

She spoke as calmly as she could and looked at her captor straight in the eye. He blanched, but composed himself quickly.

"Bind them both. Armed men or not, you're coming with us. There are better ways of making sure you tell us the truth. And believe me, before we're done with you, you'll be begging to tell me what you know."

"Let's see your pretty face, little girly," one of the crossbow men said, as he stepped forward to tie her hands. He reached out for the mask. With a flick of her foot, the bow was in her hands again and she promptly cracked it over his head.

"Put the bow down, or you'll regret it!" cried the leader. He stepped toward Isaiah.

She dropped it, but punched, kicked, and bit so that none of the soldiers could get too close. She was too small to fight them off indefinitely, though, and eventually they tied her hands behind a horse.

They walked for miles. The pace wasn't particularly fast for a horse, but for a person tied behind one it was harsh. The sun had started to set before they stopped in a small village, much like Evey's own.

The soldiers paraded them down the small main road, and made sure the villagers knew why. Though there was technically no proof, Evey and Isaiah were under arrest as Robin Hood's accomplices.

People stopped and stared at the young outlaws. A few of them seemed apathetic. A few others looked glad. But by far, the majority of them seemed to say 'I'm Sorry'. They believed in Robin Hood, even if they couldn't say it out loud.

At the other end of the town, the soldiers shoved Evey and Isaiah into the stable between a horse stall and an old hay wagon. They bound Evey's hands to the wagon, tied so tightly that they started to tingle. They bound Isaiah to the other side, then hurried off to the tavern.

They didn't even take her dagger. Idiots. As soon as the door shut, she twisted her body around to bring the pommel close to her hands. It was a tight maneuver. There was barely a foot of rope between the wagon and her hands. When she finally got a grip on the hilt, she nearly dropped it.

The blade was sharp, but the angle was awkward. It took a few minutes of gently sawing before the rope broke. She tried to cut through the knots around her wrists, but the angle was impossible.

"They weren't too clever, leaving you with that dagger," Isaiah said as cheerfully as he could. "I might have known you'd get us out of this."

Evey heard the pain in his voice. She tried to ignore his discomfort in favor of getting loose. It wasn't easy.

"As soon as we're free, we've got to go. Can you handle the crossbow bolt a bit longer?"

"It's not so bad," he replied.

She only hoped he wasn't lying.

Evey worked on cutting him free. It was tricky with tied hands. She had to be careful not to cut his arm along with the rope. When he was free, he sliced through her bonds in turn. She rubbed her hands together as the ropes fell away, trying to bring feeling back into them. She took the moment to explore the stable.

It was pretty typical. There were five stalls, four with horses in them. At the far end of the building there were shelves of equipment. Bridles, reins, saddle blankets, spare bits of leather, and rope all lined the walls. There were multiple windows very high up, but only one door. She pulled hard on it.

"Locked!"

They had cut their bonds only to find themselves still trapped. But that wasn't good enough. She refused to accept it. She tried the door again and again, pushing, shaking, pulling, and kicking it.

After a while Isaiah muttered, "It looks like it's closed up pretty good. We might as well not warn them that we're untied."

"Do you think we could make it out a window?" she asked, eyeing the openings near the roof.

Isaiah grimaced. "Too high and too small. And certainly not with an arrow sticking out of me."

She spun around at the sound of his shaky voice. "Your shoulder!"

He groaned in reply. Not a good sign. She hurried to him and pulled away the torn bit of his shirt.

"It doesn't look too bad," she finally announced. "The bone kept it from going very deep."

"Well, do you mind getting it out? It's not exactly comfortable."

Evey frowned and sighed. "That's got a broad-head on it, but your shoulder blade is in the way. I can't push it through like you're supposed to. I'll have to pull it."

"Just do it fast."

He gritted his teeth and took hold of the wagon with both hands. Evey knew the damage a bolt could do when it was simply ripped out, but there wasn't any other option. Without warning, she yanked the shaft as hard as she could, tearing the arrowhead from his shoulder. He screamed so loudly, the entire village must have heard.

Scabs broke and blood started running again. Evey pressed a cloth to it, putting on as much pressure as she dared.

"You couldn't have counted down or anything?" he asked through gasping breaths.

She adopted a business-like expression. "If I wanted you to tense all your muscles around it before I pulled. And you did tell me to make it fast."

She tried to sound calm, but inside she shook almost as much as he did. Blood didn't bother her, but she was no healer. She might do more damage than good.

While she held the cloth on, she looked around again. The stable was too basic. There were no useful tools or weapons. It didn't help that she was tired and more than a little scared. The knights would come back and find out who she was. She would hang. And Emeric? She had to protect him somehow.

The hood wouldn't be much help at hiding her identity, and neither would the mask. Not once the soldiers returned. Time to resort to an older, cruder method of hiding. She tied off Isaiah's bandage, then dug her fingers behind the hubcap on the wagon's front wheel and covered her hand in black grease. She smeared it on her face, covering every surface. It was sticky and smelly, but worth it, if it helped save Emeric. She only hoped that she had left no obvious holes in her grease mask.

"Let me see your face," she demanded. Isaiah turned. When he saw the grease in her hand, he tried to pull away, but she grabbed him back.

"What's that for?" he whined.

"Disguise."

"No way. They've seen me already. What do I need a disguise for?"

She popped him not-too-hard on the back of the head. "Don't be stupid. Your father's a knight. Maybe these men didn't recognize you, but it won't be hard to find someone who will. This grease won't come off in a hurry. It's the best defense we've got, right now."

He tensed at the touch of her fingers to his cheek.

"Stop fussing," she commanded.

Finally he allowed her to smear a black film around his eyes and over his cheekbones. He tried to pull away after that much, but she insisted on covering his whole face. When she was finally done, she wiped her hand on a nearby blanket. The skin on her fingers was stained as black as her face, but it was a small price to pay for anonymity.

"You're acting like a little boy who doesn't want to go to bed," she joked, as Isaiah pouted.

"I just don't like having stuff on my face."

"It's not permanent, and it does a good job. If I didn't know it was you, I wouldn't even recognize you. Believe me, we're safer this way."

He slouched a little. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I just don't feel so great. Is there any food around here?"

"Just raw oats."

Isaiah made another face. "Exactly what I wanted for supper."

"Better than starving to death."

The oats were just as unsatisfying as they sounded, but it was something.

"We'll escape," she promised. "I'll think of something. I just need to rest for a minute."

Isaiah nodded. Both of them dropped to the hay and fell asleep within seconds.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The next morning they woke to the sound of the door's bolt scraping open.

She sat up fast. "No!"

She'd planned to find some way to escape. She wanted to spend the evening getting out, but no. She had to go and nap the whole time instead.

The men who came through the door only seemed mildly surprised to find their prisoners untied. Evey struggled furiously against being re-bound, but in the end the crossbow at Isaiah's head was too convincing.

They spent the rest of that day tied behind the horses again. The sun burned down on them mercilessly. Evey tried to think of ways to get out the dagger, but the pace of her captors was too quick. She couldn't reach down for her weapon without being unceremoniously thrown to her face and dragged.

By the time they camped for the night, both she and Isaiah were hot, tired, muddy, starving, and most of all, deathly thirsty. Except for the oats, they hadn't eaten for two full days, and not one of the knights had considered giving them water. Now they lay on the ground, gasping for air through their parched and dusty throats.