Wonderful responses, and another quick chapter in return. Another rough edit, so all mistakes are mine.

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Chapter Eleven: Death Like Dawn

There were three of them; moving silently like shadows, clinging to the walls, slipping inside the doors. Night was fading, and soon the early rays of the morning sun would be gracing the earth for the start of the new day. If they moved quickly enough, they could use the busy streets of the morning market to cover their tracks when they left.

Will paused just before he slipped inside, glancing back to where Much and Djaq stood quietly, tending to the horses they had freed from guards outside of the town. It had been hard convincing him to wait; Djaq knew of the importance, and Will was fairly sure that Much knew as well, but knowing one thing, and doing it, were two very different things.

Djaq had helped though, somehow reading Will's mind, knowing it was for the best. They had to do this quickly, and quietly, and Much was neither of those things, especially in times of panic, and even more so when it directly involved Robin. Things would hard enough for Allan and John as it was.

With the last thought Will slipped inside, parting ways with the other two men. They had all donned guard uniforms, save for John who preferred his own wardrobe. Then again, there were very few who would willing stand up to such a man, and for those who did, most of them lost and quickly.

On the way back to the castle, Will had spent most of his time explaining what he knew to the pair. Getting the key would be hardest part, he knew, but he trusted Allan's ability, and John's sheer strength if things should go poorly. He also informed them of Robin's exact whereabouts, and did the best he could to describe his situation. Still he knew it would be a shock to them when they would find the battered man.

These were the thoughts that occupied his mind, the same thoughts he had to push aside as he turned down the last hallway. His task was just as difficult. It would be up to him to convince the English Lord not to sign away possession of his lands, to a man that clearly had him convinced to do so. The Sheriff was a lot of things, including a trickster and a deceiver.

Will paused for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to knock first, or to just enter. He was a Lord after all, and probably would appreciate the courtesy, but then again, this was no time for a pleasant chat, or a quiet stroll as they had taken the evening before. Shaking his head, Will pushed his way in, disappearing from the hall.

He was always quick on his feet, and even quicker on his hands. Allan knew that if he was only as quick with his tongue, and convincingly so, he would be quite possibly one of the best thieves around. No, that was too harsh of a word…he was more of an artist. After all, it took quite a bit of skill to accomplish what he could do.

He and John had traveled the halls quickly, avoid what guards they could, and taking out those they couldn't. Part of him was quite thankful for John's assistance, feeling much more at ease than he ever would if he happened to be alone. It made him wonder almost how Will had accomplished this journey the first time. Allan didn't spend much time worrying though, having reached Gisborne's room.

John stood guard by the door, watching as he had slipped inside. The darkness welcomed him eerily, forcing Allan to wait by the closed door until his eyes adjusted. Quiet breaths, followed by soft snores filled the room, reassuring the man that the occupant of the room was indeed sound asleep. That was good, it was in his favor, and with a nod to himself he began his search.

It was amusing almost; Allan would have figured the Sheriff's right hand man would have a room that…accommodated him more. Bare floors, a simple bed, and an old table set in one corner. Perhaps this was the reason he had moved into Locksley, when he wasn't attending business in the castle that was.

Long days, and even longer nights left little time for travel between the towns, and Allan could understand why he chose to stay here. He was glad of it too, not wanting to know how far behind they would be if having to travel to more than one village in the same night.

It had been Will's call to be truthful. Allan hadn't been sure of Gisborne's whereabouts, but Will had pushed the idea that he would still be in the castle. He had pointed out; after all, that Gisborne wouldn't stray too far from his prisoner, especially knowing he had escaped once. Will had also advised him to tread carefully; Gisborne may also be aware of a rescue attempt.

If he was, he sure wasn't too concerned about it. Still fully clothed the man slept lightly on top of the covers, gloved hands folded across his chest. The key, he could see, was tied to string, looped around his neck. Allan had to keep himself from laughing. It all seemed too easy.

Removing it would take skill, but skill was something he had, in this department at least. Grasping the string in one hand he held a small section between his fingers, pulling free his sword, and gently frayed the rope. All the while he kept a close eye on Gisborne, who at the current moment had taken to snoring loudly.

With a few more quick strokes, the string was broken, and Allan slipped the key off easily, sliding it into his pocket as he backed off. John was still guarding the door when he came out. A quiet nod from him told Allan it was clear, and the two took off quickly down the hall, ready to reunite their group once more.

The old man was…perplexed to say the least. He sat on his bed, still dressed in evening clothes, a look of amusement on his face. Will had explained everything he could, rushing as fast as he dared. As much as this was important, his mind was on other events, listening intently for any cries of distress or calls for help. There would be telling what would happen if things went wrong.

"I traveled days to get here son," Barlow told him quietly, hands folded over one another, resting on his small wooded walking stick. "An old fellow like me doesn't move very quickly, and long rides hurt my back. Now you want me to just turn around and leave?"

"If you are loyal to the King, and you want what is best for your people, then yes. The Sheriff cares nothing for them; he only wishes to rob them of what is rightfully theirs."

"You wouldn't even tell me a truthful answer the last time we met, and yet you wish for me to trust you? It sounds a bit skeptical to me. Your Sheriff, that you so detest, has shown me around Nottingham when I first arrived; no one seemed hungry or poor then."

"It is a ruse my Lord; I have seen the villages, I know what they truly look like. I know what the people there feel, for I have felt it too. The long winters, and not knowing when your next meal would come. I know what it feels like to watch someone die a little everyday, and never come back. I know how it feels when those who are supposed to protect you, and keep you safe, instead drive fear through your heart. No one should have to live in such fear, least of all your people. They deserve better, don't you agree?"

"I am old; I have no sons to watch the land for me. I cannot leave my people without rule. Even a harsh ruler is better than no rule at all. Guidance, even at its worst, is still guidance."

"But surely there is someone else," Will argued. "A friend, someone devoted to the lands. If you give your lands to the Sheriff, you are not only risking your own life, but England's welfare as well."

It was silent for a moment while Barlow thought it over. Will could see the man contemplating and silently urged the man to agree. Minutes passed, stretching out the long silence, but finally the man nodded, slowly.

"You are not a guard, and not even on the right side of the law if I am to believe what you say. But you sound sincere, and that makes a man true at heart, better than any King or Noble in my eyes. If you are so certain of this, then I will take my business elsewhere."

"The sooner the better," Will encouraged him, relief spreading through him quickly. "The Sheriff does not take kindly to those who back out of such matters, especially one such as this. If you need any aid…"

"There will be no need," Barlow interrupted him; "I can still remember my young days when I snuck into barns and fields. As well, the guards hardly recognize me as it is. I will be gone and away before they even notice. Even at my slow pace. After all, I can sense you have other matters to attend to, I fear your help might be needed to help him escape."

"How…" Will started, but was cut off once again.

"A wise man looks with his ears, and listens with his heart. The trick is to be invisible out in the open. Anyone would say anything if they feel you are not a threat. Now go; I must pack my things."

The first door was easy. The lock simple and easy to maneuver. One would think by now they would have improved it, seeing the numerous times they had broken in. Still, Allan would use their lack of effort to his gain.

John went in first, Allan following behind down the narrow staircase. He had been here before, locked up as a prisoner, awaiting trail. Allan could remember it all too clearly. Having been sentenced to hang, mostly due to his own lie, curse it all. Still, Robin had saved his life that day, Allan figured he owed him this much at least. Then again, Robin seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble.

"In the back," John nodded towards him, moving quickly by the cells that held other prisoners.

Allan knew it as well. Will had been clear where he was. Still, there was something wrong. He had first gotten the feeling upon reaching the dungeon, and now it was growing. It turned quickly from concern, to downright worry. The last cell was empty.

"Maybe he got out," Allan suggested, needing to hear his own words to convince himself. "I mean, he's done that before, right?"

"Something's not right," John argued, shaking his head. "No guards, no jailer…"

"They took 'em already…"

The voice startled them both, John stepping up in front of Allan in case of any threat. But the voice belonged to a mere prisoner, watching them now with interest.

"Interesting fellow 'e was. They were quite interested in 'em, they were. Never 'eard anything like it before. What did 'e do?"

"Who is 'they'?" Allan asked quickly, "and where did they take him?"

The prisoner laughed, almost as though Allan had sprout off a joke. "The same place they take everyone when yer time is up. The last faithful walk, the same one every time."

"I'm not being funny, but that doesn't even make sense," Allan argued, "You mean they let him go? Are we even talking about the same person I wonder?"

"A good day for a 'anging, wouldn't ye agree?"

"Robin," John said quickly, "the gallows."

"Can't be," Allan argued, "surely…"

"We go," John told him, moving for the stairs, "now!"

Will had left the Lord with best wishes, keeping in mind the very words he had spoken. There was a mixture a feelings, of wanting to stay with him and making sure he made it out safely, and part of him not wanting to care, to only focus his efforts on getting Robin out of here.

He moved with quick strides down the hall, to the point of almost running, but not quite. Light was beginning to filter in, making the way easier to see, but likewise, it also meant occupants of the castle would soon be waking. That meant it would be harder to navigate the corridors with ease, and harder to attempt any profound escape.

It was almost as if on cue, the familiar voice flooded the hallway; this was early, even for the Sheriff. And the fact he was waking Gisborne was an unpleasant sign. His first thoughts of course went to Allan and John. Had they been caught?

His quick stride turned into a run then, moving about the hallways with ease. He knew these passages by heart, and he didn't even have to slow. If they were caught, they would be in the dungeons no doubt, he had to hurry.

But those notions were dashed as he rounded the next corner, skidding to a halt as he nearly met head on with the pair he suspected being caught. Curses were exchanged of both sides, swords drawn and quickly lowered as they recognized each other as they caught their breath and tamed their pounding hearts.

"Where is he?"

"You go me, but John thinks," Allan started, shaking his head.

"Not there, the gallows!" John interrupted.

"What?!"

He couldn't have heard that right. Will had been there that night with Robin, and Gisborne had said nothing of the sort. Surely he would have, if anything to fuel the fear that must had been inside of Robin. Then for sure, if Robin knew, he would have said…would have told him.

Will closed his eyes; of course he wouldn't have. Robin cared too much for everyone else; he would have kept it quiet, no matter what the price would be. "When?"

It was folly to even ask. The three were already moving, not caring now if they were heard or even spotted. If there was a chance, then they could waste no time.

The light of the morning greeted them, shadowed by the clouds that hung in the sky. They could see the gallows from there, ready and waiting, a pair of guards dragging the struggling victim between them, already bound and hooded, ready for the execution.

"Robin!"

Will hadn't even noticed it was he who had cried out, witnessing the sight before them. They were nearly there, the guards having reached the wooden stairs. A few more steps and the hanging would begin.

With a cry John raced down the stairs, snapping Will from his trance. Allan was next, Will taking up the rear, weapon drawn, ready to save him. But it wouldn't be that easy.

Even before they reached the ground, they were surrounded. Will hadn't even heard the alarm, but there was no other explanation. He stopped the first blow, sidestepping the next, dealing his own in the process. Avoiding bloodshed, as he had in the past, was nothing he was seeking this time.

Hard and heavy blows, precise, and fast and efficiently as he could. There was no time in this battle for that, no time…they needed more time!

Knocking aside another guard he dealt the fatal blow, risking a glance back at the gallows. Robin was still fighting, still resisting, an amazing feat considering how tired he must be. But it was in vain, all of it was, for the noose had already been slipped about his head.

Will ducked another blow, just barely, Little John taking care of the guard that nearly had done him in. Normally he would have thanked him, but Will's mind was elsewhere. He caught sight of Allan, who was using his sword as best as he could, but that wasn't what Will was after.

"Allan! Your bow, quick!"

The execution had already begun, each precious moment ticking away, and still they were in the fray of the guards. Allan followed his gaze, shaking his head sorrowfully.

"It's no use, I can't get my bow out, there's too many of them," he cried, knocking down another guard, gearing up to face another one. "Even if I could, I can't get a clear shot, I might hit him!"

"He's dead if you don't!" Will yelled back, "John! Clear a way for Allan!"

But the bigger man was shaking head, moving back towards Will as a new wave of guards closed in. "We go back."

"There's still time! There's still a chance!" Will cried, nearly begging now. They were so close; they couldn't give up, not now.

John shook his head again, "It's over."

And true it was, the shadow the of the body hung limp, swaying lightly, sending an eerie chill down all their spines, and straight into their stomachs. It was sickening, almost as though it was they themselves who had been led to the gallows. Worse than failing to get Robin out, they had led themselves straight into a trap; and now there was no one to help them.

TBC

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