I didn’t hesitate. I kicked him hard in the ribs, felt the air leave him in a grunt, and I tore the sword from his limphand. The blade was heavier than any I had trained with, but it gleamed with possibility. It was my only weapon, my only chance. I vaulted over him and sprinted toward Father just as the forest erupted.
Arrows rained down and the sheriff’s soldiers roared in response, charging forward through the underbrush. The clearing exploded into chaos.
Little John met the sheriff head-on, his quarterstaff cracking against the sheriff’s blade with a jarring clang that vibrated through the air. Little John planted his feet and spun, sweeping the staff low to force the sheriff back.
Three men barreled toward me and I barely had time to lift my oversized sword. The first man swung high. I ducked, feeling the wind of his blade skim my hair, then rammed my hilt into his sternum. He staggered, and I pivoted toward the second.
The sword in my hands was far too heavy, pulling at my recently healed shoulder with every movement, but I refused to let go. I swung with all the strength I had. The blade met the man’s with a teeth-rattling crash and pain shot up my arm. I gritted my teeth, shoved forward, and Father’s arrow whistled past my head to strike the third soldier squarely in the chest.
“Keep moving!” Father barked.
I did.
We fought back-to-back, a small island of resistance amid the onslaught of bodies and metal and screams. I tasted dirt and sweat and felt the sting of cuts I didn’t have time to register. Dale fought at Father’s flank, his sword flashing bright in the spring sunlight as he kept three soldiers at bay.
Then there was a cry.
Dale staggered, an arrow sprouting from his upper arm. His sword slipped from his fingers, and before he could regain his footing, he tripped backward over a root and slammed his head against a boulder.
“Dale!” I screamed, but he didn’t move. He lay sprawled across the earth, motionless, blood blooming beneath him.
The sight ignited something fierce inside me. I swung my heavy blade in a wide arc that nearly toppled me but forced two men away from Father’s side. Father and I continued to fight until at last, only one remained besides the sheriff himself. Father seized the final attacker, pinning his arms behind him.
“Stop!” Another person’s voice rang out. It was powerful and commanding—the voice I’d grown to love. Baron had found us. His face was shadowed by rage, and blood was streaked across it.
The only ones who seemed not to see the newcomer were Little John and the sheriff. As we watched, the sheriff’s sword cleaved Little John’s staff clean in two. Little John desperately clutched the two pieces of his broken weapon, but they were no match for sharpened steel. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Little John staggered backward, and the sheriff swung his sword in a wide arc, slashing it across Little John’s chest.
“No!” I screamed as Little John, one of my favorite people in the world, fell backward.
CHAPTER 40
Father rushed immediately to his oldest friend’s side while I heavily dropped the hilt of the sword I had to onto the final man’s head to knock him unconscious.
“Baron, you’re here. Finally!” the sheriff said. “Come help me.”
“No.” Baron took a step closer. Fear clutched at my chest. The sheriff was armed and Baron was defenseless.
The sheriff’s eyes snapped over to look at his son. “You can’t possibly be on their side.”
“I am.”
The sheriff’s mouth quirked into a vicious half-smile. “No, you’re not.”
“It’s over, Father. I’m done with you.”
The sheriff’s eyes blazed and he hurriedly looked around the battlefield. My father was frantically tending Little John’s injuries and I’d nearly closed the gap between myself and Baron, still holding onto my ludicrously-sized sword. It was only the sheriff left. All his comrades had fallen and he was cornered.
“Don’t do anything rash, son,” the sheriff cried. His voice changed from aggressive to wheedling. “Just this once, I’m willing to forgive your betrayal. No one will ever know about thisif you come back with me. I already covered for you, you know. I told them I sent you after the girl. You’ve been by my side for years. Soon, you’ll be the next Sheriff of Nottingham. Think of the power and wealth you’ll have.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want it.”
The sheriff snorted. “Then you’re a fool. They’ll never accept you. You’ll always be an outcast if you try to tag along after them. They may let you play pretend, but you’ll never be one of them. You know it’s true.”
A spasm of fear flickered across Baron’s face. There was some accuracy to what the sheriff was saying. Hadn’t we made that obvious when we put Baron on probation? As much as we tried to overcome it, the men still had reservations about Baron’s allegiances. Now it was time to test those loyalties.
“Baron,” I said quietly, hoping my voice would ground him. “Don’t listen to him. Remember what he’s done to you. You deserve better.”
The sheriff ignored me and continued, lowering his voice to the warm, flattering tone he had used upon first meeting me. “I’m sorry, Baron. I know what happened back at camp wasn’t your fault, and I forgive you for letting your guard down. I never should’ve left you alone with her. I failed you, my son. I’ll do better.Wewill do better. Together.”
