Paul Kane - Broken Arrow

The man appeared confused, then it dawned on him what Bill meant. "The… the giant…"

"What?"

"B-Big man… olive skin…"

"Shooting people wi' a crossbow," Bill finished for him. The man nodded, then hissed in agony.

It couldn't be. I killed him.

Bill had certainly shot him, square in the chest as far as he could tell — though it had been pretty hard to concentrate on anything when that bolt had punched into him. They'd never found a body, though, had they? In spite of searching when everything had calmed down. Nothing in the wreckage from the platform; neither Jack nor Mark had seen anything. But still… How could it be? And what was he doing with Russians?

Well, he'd been with the Frenchman, hadn't he? He'd been with the German, the Italian and Mexican. Used them. Race meant nothing to Tanek, only the need to destroy and take what he could for himself.

Bill was brought back to the here and now when the man began to convulse. "Easy," said Bill again. But the man couldn't hear him anymore. Bill held him tightly by the shoulders. The convulsions ended suddenly, then the man went completely limp. Bill closed the dead man's eyes.

He stood, feeling numb: none of his original questions answered and a whole lot more lumped on the pile. If Tanek really had returned, bringing with him another army, then there was only one place they could be heading. As he was righting himself, though, at least one of the mysteries was solved. Across the sea, and almost obscured from view by an outcropping, he could see some kind of ship. Bill took a pair of binoculars out of his pocket and looked through them. Maybe it was just the light, but it looked slightly silvery, and it had three big fan-like things on its back. It resembled a grey slab of concrete on the water, except it wasn't quite on the water — a black ring was keeping it afloat like a fat man sitting on a rubber ring.

"A bloody hovercraft!" said Bill.

But only one of them, and now he remembered what that lookout at Whitby had said: "Several somethings." Bill had no clue what one of those brutes could carry in terms of equipment, men and vehicles, but he was guessing it wasn't to be sniffed at. Imagine what had come across in a handful, splitting up and branching out to land at different points along the coast so they could take out observers before a flag could be raised. Bill was betting the army would rendezvous somewhere inland before heading on for their final destination. "Shit," he added for good measure.

Time he wasn't here. Grabbing the other rifles — jamming them under his arm — and stuffing anything else he could find of use into a backpack one of the soldiers had been wearing (like grenades, knives and spare ammo) Bill began the task of climbing back up towards his chopper. Hopefully before anyone over at the hovercraft realised something was amiss.

What he was going to do first, he didn't have a clue. Deep down he knew not only was the region in danger again, but probably his friends as well.

And he realised they'd only been in the middle of the calm before the next storm. A lull which had made them complacent.

All of this and more was buzzing round Bill's mind as fast as the rotor blades on his helicopter when he started her engine.

Everything being mulled over, especially Tanek, always Tanek, as he made his way upwards and eventually away from Robin Hood's Bay.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

If he'd been asked that once today, he'd been asked it a million times. By Mary — of course — by Jack, and now the one person he'd thought would be guaranteed to be on his side: Mark. This was for his benefit, after all.

Wasn't it?

Mostly. Robert was finally beginning to concede that the boy was getting older, that maybe it was time he started his training in earnest — and that didn't just mean messing about on the Bailey with Jack and the other men. It meant taking him out to where he himself had learnt his skills.

Where Robert had become The Hooded Man.

"Sherwood? Are you serious?" That had been Mary. "You can't go off again now, with everything that's happening."

Jack had broached similar concerns. They were only just starting to figure out the cult, with Tate's help, and for their leader to keep vanishing like this…

"I'm not vanishing. You know where I'll be if you need me," he argued. The first trip to Hope had been essential. This one they really didn't understand, and his flimsy explanation about Mark hadn't cut it. Especially after he'd been the one who kept knocking the boy back, telling him he wasn't ready.

Robert couldn't blame them for being freaked out, not after the incident at The Britannia . Mary had only just been able to save Geoff Baker's life. She'd set to work straight away after getting there, seemingly taking the dead body slumped across the table in her stride. Then she'd had Geoff moved somewhere they could treat him properly. Mary hadn't even acknowledged Robert or Tate's presence. Though that was understandable because she had her hands full, Robert still had a niggling feeling she was punishing him.

Later, when Geoff was stable — though there was still a good chance he wouldn't see the next dawn — Mary had demanded to see Robert and Tate alone in one of the small conference rooms at the hotel. That was when she'd asked them what they thought they were playing at, interrogating a prisoner without her present, with only Lucy on hand to deal with the medical side of things. "What were you thinking?" she'd asked, pacing up and down in front of them.

"There wasn't time, Mary," Robert told her.

"No time to let me know you were back, either," commented Mary with a sour face. "But time to send for me when Geoff had been attacked?"

"Lucy had given the Servitor-"

"The what?"

"It's what they call themselves. Anyway, Lucy had given him something to calm him down. He was secured. We didn't think-"

"No, you didn't, did you?" Mary sighed. "Look, some people's reactions to any drugs can be totally unexpected. Here, the Chlorpromazine obviously had exactly the reverse effect to calming him down."

Tate, seated on one of the chairs, was tapping his stick with a finger. "Can I just ask, Mary — and by the way, it's nice to see you again." His smile was weak, but sincere. "Could that same side-effect have made him stronger?"

"It's possible, yes," Mary admitted. "And it's nice to see you again, too, Reverend. I wish it was under better circumstances."

When they'd finished going over what had taken place, possible causes and reasons, and coming to no definitive conclusions, Tate had left to go and get settled back at the castle, he'd be staying there until this mess with the cult was sorted out. Robert and Mary had hung back in the room, at first hardly able to even look at each other. It was Robert who broke the silence first.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? For leaving so suddenly, or not saying a thing when you got back?"

"For whatever it is I'm supposed to be apologising about this time." It hadn't been the wisest thing he'd ever said.

"How about for giving Adele the run of our bedroom?" Mary had said, hands on hips.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Robert wracked his brains. Had he done that? He didn't remember it… maybe something about borrowing anything if she needed it, but he just assumed she'd ask first. Robert shook his head. This wasn't really about privacy, no more than it had been the other day. This was about him and Mary. About how strong they were together or, right now, the opposite.

"You've got to stop this, Mary. Adele is-"

"I know exactly what she is — and what she's after," Mary stated emphatically. "What I don't know is, if she's being encouraged."