Paul Kane - Broken Arrow

It was time Jack joined them.

He came out of the tunnel, just as a Russian soldier was running past him. Jack swung his staff, connecting with the man's face, knocking him flat on his back. Jack trod on him to get to the next soldier, hitting that one in the stomach as the man swung his rifle in Jack's direction. Jack struck the soldier's temple and he fell on top of his companion.

As he cleared the tunnel Jack looked up and saw other soldiers running from the castle, jumping down from the Middle Bailey, joining their comrades in the struggle. This time they were on the receiving end, but it was a stealth attack — not a show of force. And they'd been caught on the back foot.

Nevertheless, it was still machine guns against bows and arrows. And if they brought some of that other heavy weaponry into play… Jack had no idea how many allies he had out there — it was difficult to tell with a flash here, a flash there — but they had to cripple as many of The Tsar's men as they could, or this would be over as quickly as it had been the first time around.

More flaming arrows whizzed by ahead of him, but as he watched Jack saw these exploding in the grounds, flinging bunches of soldiers into the air as effectively as if someone had just tossed a grenade into their midst.

Soldiers ran around the grounds, confused. Nobody seemed to be in charge, and no-one apparently wanted the job. Jack guessed Tanek and Adele must have gone after Mark, Tate and Sophie at Sherwood. But where was The Tsar himself? Where were his bodyguards? Surely he wasn't so stupid — or overly confident — that he'd leave his castle with just his foot soldiers looking after it?

Somehow, over the top of all the gunfire, Jack heard the clack of a rifle being primed behind him. He turned, expecting to have his head blown off. What he saw when he made it round was one of the men he'd imprisoned in the hotel. Jack couldn't remember his name, but recognised him from his patchy beard. He'd caught him a few months ago picking on a group of teenagers who'd banded together, threatening them with a pickaxe if they didn't hand over their food. Now the man was out for revenge.

"Just wanted you to see who it was who offed you," said the man, venom in every word. He put the rifle to his shoulder.

"If you're going to do it, get on with it. Won't be the worst thing that's happened today, fella."

"Fair enough."

Jack waited for the bullets to hit home — with no archway to duck into, what choice did he have? But they didn't. Instead, the man's body jerked, his whole frame dancing like he was being electrocuted. His eyes went wide and he let go of his weapon, following it to the ground moments later.

Behind him stood a young man, his sword dripping with the bearded man's blood — which looked oddly black in this light. The youth beamed when he saw him. "Jack! You're alive."

Jack laughed, rushing up to Dale and clapping him on the arms. They didn't have time for a proper reunion though, as more soldiers happened across them.

Dale was on one of them in a flash, his blade slicing left and right. Jack handled another with the makeshift staff, forcing himself to ignore the tremendous pain he was still in.

More explosions nearby, and more gunfire. Jack's eyes flicked up to the castle again and saw troops being hit by arrows up there. "Your doing?" he asked quickly.

"Azhar," was all Dale needed to say.

As Jack's gaze was drawn towards the wall in front of him, he saw the black shapes of more Rangers clambering over. Some were immediately sprayed with bullets, tumbling over onto the top of the wall: dangling like lifeless marionettes. Others managed to get a foothold at the top, targeting the shooters with yet more arrows.

The grounds reflected how Jack's body both looked and felt; it had seen better days. But there wasn't an end in sight. Another wave of soldiers were coming from above, leaping down and firing into the dark recesses, covering any inch of ground their enemies might be hiding in. This lot seemed more together, and had obviously hung back to get a handle on the situation before rushing in.

"They're picking off my… Robert's men," Dale said, correcting himself.

Jack could easily see this kid leading his own division of the Rangers someday. He wanted glory, the adulation that came with bravery. But that was in the future. In Robert's apparent absence, Jack was in charge. "We need to round up as many of our lot as we can, bring them together and make a stand against The Tsar's remaining forces," Jack said, coughing and wondering how much longer he could hold out. This wasn't his first battle of the day — it wasn't his first of the week, or the month — and he'd been tortured by a maniac in the meantime.

Dale nodded, then whistled: a signal for the rest of the Rangers to converge, to make their way into the centre of the grounds. This they did, fending off the soldiers in their way with swords and arrows, fighting more valiantly than Jack had ever seen in his life — in reality or on the silver screen. It made him feel very proud.

They were still outnumbered and outgunned, but none gave up. It was quite a thing to see.

The remaining Rangers were gathering in the spot where Dale and Jack stood, forming a ring. They were being surrrounded by the numbers of soldiers and prisoners still swarming from every part of the castle and grounds.

Backs to each other, the Rangers fired arrow after arrow, stuck The Tsar's men with knives, struck them down with swords. But it was obvious who was winning. As Jack feared it would, the tide had turned, and not even the appearance of Azhar, swords in both hands, cutting and slicing his way through the mayhem, did any good.

"Always wondered what I'd choose for my final number," Dale shouted to Jack.

"What?"

But the youth wasn't listening. He was singing. Lines from a song Jack hadn't heard before, probably one from Dale's old band, or maybe something he was improvising — he was good like that. The words were beautiful and poignant, though, and spoke of kinship, loyalty and of trust.

"So we stand here on the brink,

Hardly able to even think.

Who'd have thought we could make it here,

Together.

What's waiting? Who can say…

But we'll face it anyway.

You can-"

He never got any further because the first of the explosions came. Their heads whipped sideways. These were coming from outside the grounds.

As Jack and Dale looked on, astonished, one of the armoured vehicles positioned at the wall blew up. The Tsar's troops had turned to watch as well.

"Is someone still outside?" Jack asked.

Dale shook his head. "We needed everyone for the assault."

Another explosion, another vehicle going up in flames. Now The Tsar's men were worried. They'd concentrated so much effort on the attack from Dale and his men that they'd taken their eye off the ball where the castle's defences were concerned. The result: somebody was having a merry old time blasting their toys to pieces.

The explosions died down and there was silence for a moment or two. Then:

"Invaders of Nottingham Castle. This is Robert… Robin Hood. Your beloved Tsar is dead."

"Robbie? Well, I'll be," said Jack. "Looks like you were only the warm-up guys, Dale."

The youth frowned and for a second Jack thought it was because of the crack. Surely he can't be mad at Robbie for stealing his thunder, can he? When Dale spoke again, it all became clear.

"I–I left him, on the battlefield. Jack, he was really hurt bad."

"Aren't we all," Jack pointed out.

"No, I mean… bad ."

Jack frowned. It did beg the question how in God's name he'd got from there to here, let alone what he was doing talking to The Tsar's men on a speaker system.