Paul Kane - Arrowhead

"Out of the question," he said at last.

"I know people in lots of places, I could keep tabs on what's going on and get back to you with-"

"Didn't you just hear what I said?" Robert's tone was harder now. "I can't… Look, I just can't. Okay?"

Mark frowned. "I'll pull my weight, honest. I'm a hard worker."

"No," Robert told him.

Mark pulled items out of his bag now, as if he was trading at the market. "Please. Here, you can have it all… And I have other stuff, stashed away, really cool stuff that-"

"I said no!" Robert surprised himself with the harshness of his reply.

The boy's face fell sharply, and for a moment Robert felt sure he was going to cry. As he'd suspected, that streetwise attitude was simply a front, and now Mark had let Robert see too much of the real him. Slowly, the lad began to gather the things back into his bag.

"Listen, I'm sorry," began Robert, reaching out a hand as if to place it on Mark's shoulder, then quickly withdrawing it. "It's just that… I can't let you come with me."

Mark stared at him. "Why?"

It was a simple enough question, but the answer was so complicated. "I can't tell you that, either. Go back to Bill, Mark. You'll be safe with him." Robert pulled up his hood and stepped around the boy. This time Mark didn't try to stop him.

What are you doing? said a voice in Robert's head, the small part of him still connected to the past: to his family, to his job. He needs help… they all do. But he'd 'helped' enough for one day, caused more trouble than he'd prevented, probably. So what, you're just going to run away now and let them get on with it?

Robert tried to force the thoughts out of his head, but they persisted. Can you do that? Can you really? Have you strayed so far from who you used to be?

He was tempted to look back over his shoulder at Mark, but gritted his teeth and told himself that the kid would be better off without him; a dysfunctional excuse for a human being. Robert couldn't give him what he so obviously wanted, someone to look up to, someone to admire.

After a few minutes Robert broke into a run and pretty soon he was swallowed by the wilds he now called home.

De Falaise never liked to be interrupted when he was entertaining. Especially when the news was of this variety.

The knock on the door of the 'converted' office was light, but curt. It had been followed by a cough, then: "My… my Lord?"

De Falaise answered the door dressed in his robe. He recognised one of the young men they'd recruited on their travels – he didn't remember his name (it began with 'G'… Granville, Grantham possibly?) but he'd been a member of that ridiculous gang that called themselves The Jackals, and De Falaise did remember ordering one of his friend's deaths. Yes, there was the scar on the back of his raised hand, where Tanek's bolt had found its mark. Now the only thing that had stopped De Falaise from grabbing this silly boy by the throat and carving onto his chest 'Do not disturb' was the use of his new title, a mark of respect he was owed.

"Ahem…" said the young man, attempting to keep his eyes dead ahead, and not on De Falaise's lack of clothing, nor what was beyond him in the room. "My Lord, I bring news of an incident involving one of our units."

"What kind of incident?"

"We're… we're not quite sure. Tanek sent me to fetch you, he said it would be better if you 'talked' to one the survivors yourself. He's down in the stables."

De Falaise caught the youth gazing past him, at the woman on the bed. "Tell Tanek I will be with him momentarily, oui?" The youth made to leave. "Oh, and next time you see too much, I will take out your eyes. Do you understand?"

Granville or Grantham, or whatever his name was, nodded. There was no hint of disobedience anymore, just terror – pure and simple.

"So, run along, run along." De Falaise clapped his hands to get the moron moving, then closed the door and prepared to get ready.

Ten minutes later, after dressing and posting a guard to watch the woman from Hope, he'd joined Tanek and a handful of others in the former stables. He was not at all surprised to see that the big man had already put the stocks there to good use, but he did raise an eyebrow when he saw that the youth occupying them was wearing a uniform. As De Falaise joined them, Tanek explained that this 'soldier' and a couple of others – currently being held down in the caves – had been caught trying to flee the area by one of their routine patrols.

De Falaise bent slightly and asked the man his name.

"R-Rory," he gasped, obviously having trouble breathing in the stocks.

"Was he not in Henrik's unit?" De Falaise asked Tanek. The larger man nodded.

"What happened? Why were you trying to escape?

At first Rory didn't answer, but then De Falaise gestured to Tanek, who grabbed hold of the captive, yanking his head up by his sweaty hair. "Answer!"

"Gak… I was scared… Scared of… of what you'd do to me."

"I see," De Falaise said, "as opposed to what we are doing now, you mean? No one has the option of walking away from my army, my young friend, I thought I had made that abundantly clear?"

Tanek pulled Rory's head back further and he let out a frightened choke.

De Falaise leaned in, his face inches from Rory's. "Tell me what happened. Tell me what was so… frightening that you could not return."

Rory's eyes flitted from Tanek to De Falaise. "Our… our unit…wiped out."

De Falaise raised another eyebrow. "A whole squadron of men, with jeeps, motorbikes and a tank?"

Rory tried to nod, but Tanek's grip held him fast.

"And your commanding officer?" De Falaise enquired.

It was barely a shake of the head, thanks to Tanek, but it was enough.

"Impossible! Henrik was one of my best!" De Falaise searched Rory's features for any hint that he might be lying. "How could this be? A gang, a group of resistance?" Had the people of the region banded together to fight back so quickly? If so, it was serious news indeed and they would require wiping out. Then another thought occurred to him. "Or did you organise this yourself, perhaps? Kill the rest of the men and then make a run for it?"

Again, Rory attempted to shake his head, his breath coming in quick gasps.

"Then what? I need to know!"

"A… A man."

"What? Just one man? You're lying."

Rory forced out the words. "No. A man… one man did it all. He came from the trees."

"The trees? What on Earth are you talking about?"

"A man wearing a hood. He was like a ghost."

De Falaise frowned. "Where did this skirmish take place?"

It was Tanek who informed him this time that the incident had occurred not far from Rufford. De Falaise stood up and felt the corners of his mouth rise slightly. In spite of himself, and in spite of the fact he'd just lost one of his most capable and trusted fighters in Henrik, De Falaise was smiling. Then that smile turned itself into a chuckle, the chuckle a laugh. Suddenly De Falaise was guffawing like he'd just heard the funniest joke ever. Rory gaped at him, then stared upwards at Tanek, who appeared equally mystified.

"Can none of you besides myself see it?" De Falaise asked as he looked from the captive to Tanek. "Someone else is playing the game." They looked at him blankly. "Do you not understand? A man wearing a hood… A hooded man? Just like the statue outside this very castle!"

He waited for it to dawn on them. This all made sense now, especially when you factored in what Javier had told him about Hope; about the name De Falaise had acquired there. If he was to play the role of the Sheriff of Nottingham, then someone was auditioning for the part of his arch nemesis. Someone who was a little too enamoured with the old legends of this place.

"Gentlemen, history is repeating itself, is it not? But there will be a different outcome this time. History is written by the victors, and it has painted my 'predecessor' in a remarkably bad light. That will not be allowed to happen again. This hooded man must be destroyed at once, before news of what has happened reaches the rest of the towns and villages. Before we really do have rumblings of rebellion."