Read Online Laura Strickland - The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy by Champion of Sherwood - Free Book Online

quite calm, replied, “You cannot stay here, Fal. I know you hurt. Do you think I do not hurt also? I have had a third of my life torn away this day. But we must think what is best for the future. You, Lark, and Linnet are now doubly precious, and must be kept safe.”
    The big man—Sparrow—planted his hand between Gareth’s shoulder blades and shoved him through the doorway.
    Everyone inside the hut turned and stared. So small was the space, it seemed crowded with the four inside—the woman with the fierce, golden eyes who had just spoken, her daughters, Linnet and Lark, and Scarface’s son.
    The latter looked distraught with grief, and that answered Gareth’s wondering. Aye, Scarface must be dead. He felt a surge of satisfaction at that; the man had been a brutal savage. Yet his death undoubtedly changed the game, and not for the better, so far as Gareth was concerned.
    “Do not bring that varmint in here.” Scarface’s son leaped to his feet. “I will not breathe the same air as he.”
    “Steady,” said Sparrow. “None of us will be here long. Linnet, have you packed up all you need? Lark, you have your weapons?”
    “I always have my weapons.” The small fury leaped to her feet, a knife appearing in her hand as if by magic. Before Gareth could draw breath she was upon him and had the blade at his throat. “Fal, would you have me end it now—blood for blood?”
    The big man at Gareth’s shoulder spoke in a rumble. “He is too valuable for that. Come now, I want to be away into the forest by nightfall.”
    The forest? Surely they did not mean to drag Gareth away with them into Sherwood? To be sure, he knew that was where outlaws and peasants alike disappeared when they did not want to face justice—the Sheriff’s or the King’s. But would they take a Norman captive with them?
    Apparently so, for the girl withdrew her knife with a scowl, they gathered up their packs, and Scarface’s son spoke, his face twisted by grief.
    “Aye, Norman swine, we shall take you to Sherwood, and maybe abandon you there—see how the forest deals with you then.”
    ****
    “Come along.”
    Yet another yank on the rope around Gareth’s neck, and he stumbled forward into the darkness. He could not guess how these people could see where they were going. All around was blackness, whispering tree boughs and shadows, and silence that steadily deepened.
    But the silence was not truly silent—it rustled with the movement of small animals, fluttered with the stirring of leaves, and bristled with a sensation that felt like someone touching Gareth’s bare skin.
    His companions moved with barely a sound. The woman—Wren—led the way faultlessly and without pause. The smaller of her daughters, Lark, followed her, with Fal behind, then Linnet and, keeping Gareth on a short rein, her father. Gareth could not see them but knew they were there.
    The curious thing was it felt as if someone came behind him, as well. So real was the conviction, Gareth turned his head a few times, but glimpsed only more darkness.
    “Sit,” the man Sparrow told him, and pushed him down where he stood. Gareth tried to feel offended at being treated like a trained hound, but all his indignation had disappeared into exhaustion. His broken arm ached incessantly, and the wounds at shoulder and thigh burned like fire.
    Light flared suddenly in a shower of golden sparks, and a torch was lit. A face swam above Gareth—Sparrow again. “We will stay here the night. I will hobble you, but should you get free, ’twould be foolish to hare away into the trees. Do you understand?”
    Gareth gave a nod, his only possible response. The others began talking softly among themselves while Sparrow fashioned a line between Gareth’s ankles and two trees.
    Above him the wind rose; he could hear the swaying of branches. It sounded like other voices whispering.
    He closed his eyes and tried to pray for strength. He struggled to remember the prayers his mother had taught