The King was used to battle, having been surrounded by death for so long the cries of the wounded no longer phased him, he had learnt how to block it out. At least during the day. Night was another thing. But he couldn't think about that now.
There were two battles occurring presently. One being fought upon burning sand, his most trusted friend, and his men, against a power mad sheriff. The other within the King; His mind told him to flee for the sake of his life, country and people, his heart telling him to fight. He had done what he could to help Robin on his way through the town, hurtling his sword through the air before a Saracen could attack the archer from behind. But with the loss of his sword he knew he had no choice but to leave the battlefield.
"For the sake of England" he muttered to himself.
Plumes of sand were kicked up by his horse as it galloped through the town, racing away under the Saracen sun. The King had told himself there was a difference between it and the English sun. It was the only way to convince himself he was doing the right thing. If the suns were different the people were different.
His distracted thoughts did not allow him to notice the short balding man behind him.
"Long live the king... No"
The Sheriff despised bows, the face of his enemy coming to mind whenever he saw one. But the thought of shooting King Richard with one brought a crooked smile to his face. Perhaps he would have even worn a hood if he'd had the time to change his clothes. Poor little Robin Red Breast, after all this time his trusty bow had been used to defend the King and now the very man would die by one.
Oh this is good... This is very good.
The arrow flew through the air, embedding itself with the King's shoulder.
A cry sounded throughout the town.
~•~
Robin ran. He was tired, he was hungry and he was sore with sunburns after being strung up in the desert. But he still ran. Yellow, brown and white walls blurring past him, a labyrinth of sand and desolation. He didn't know where the rest of his gang were, having split from them a while back.
"Go!" He had ordered "Find the King!"
Marian had gone one way, Will and John another, Djaq, Allan and Much (after some convincing) having already scattered. Robin had wanted to run after Marian, her pure white dress taunting him as she sprinted away in search of the King. But he couldn't allow any distractions from his mission.
Having charged through the serpentine streets he paused to catch his breath and bearings.
"Where are you?" He muttered between heavy breaths.
Lifting his head, once again preparing to start running, he saw a fork in the street ahead of him. Two options, two roads, two fates. The lighting that spilt over the corners looked similar and gave no hint as to what laid beyond them, yet they were very different paths. He paused to look at them both with equal deliberation. He knew from war that one wrong move could cost him his life, one wrong swing or parry. But he had learnt from other experiences that one wrong choice could cost him the life of a loved one.
Time seemed to pause as his eyes flitted from one path to another.
Everything is a choice, everything we do.
He cursed "Oh why are these things never easy?"
Exhausted from fighting, hot under the baking sun and persistent in his belief for justice Robin Hood chose the left path.
~•~
The king fell to the burning sand in agony, he had felt pain before but nothing compared to one that prevented him from fighting. The arrow protruded from his shoulder as he crawled across the ground before realizing how pointless it was. Was he to die of blood loss or the heat first?
~•~
Guy of Gisbourne cursed his black leather as he ran through the town.
It will be worth it. When I have power and wealth and her.
All he had to do was kill one man. He had killed before. It was easy.
And then he'd have her. How could she resist him then? Surely she would submit to a man who could offer her such security and protection.
This was the thought that spurred him on. Where once he tried to fill his empty life with such matters he now believed they were the key to his salvation. Salvation through her.
Marian.
So pure, so perfect.
And always out of reach.
But not for much longer.
Picking up the pace he twisted and turned through the maze of stone. A snarl at his lips, eyes cold, hair and skin slick with sweat. Guy of Gisbourne entered the open square.
A white stone water feature stood erect and proud in the centre of the square, empty with drought it looked over the equally barred land. It waited patiently for the man in black leather, omniscient and yet indifferent.
Gisbourne spotted the monarch lying in the sand. Blood stained the man's clothes and he couldn't help but compare the king to a dying animal.
Not so high and mighty now.
He made a start towards the king, sword in his hand.
"Stop!"
A sudden cry made him halter for a moment before he began running towards the wounded man.
No. Not this time.
"I won't let you do this! " The voice came again.
A figure ran into his line of sight and Guy gritted his teeth in rage.
"Get out of my way" He spat.
