XXXVII

The Hostage

Shy sat opposite from Lady Isabella of Gisborne, the carriage rocking steadily down the road. She had been an utter fool thinking that she could trick Isabella into believing her. Last night when she had arrived back from the barracks she had been partially drunk, unable to keep up with the charade if she did not partake in part of the drinking. She had not been anticipating fending off a ruthlessly persistent inquisitor. She had misjudged her opponent. Isabella had been awake and waiting for her when she arrived. Shocked, Shy listened as Isabella informed her of how she had overheard pieces of Shy's conversation with Sir Brennan. Intrigued at the mention of one of the famed Nottingham outlaws, Isabella decided to wait and see exactly what her new servant was up to.

Shy had had no choice but to partially explain the circumstances surrounding her behavior. She told Isabella only that the outlaws had offered to rid her of Lord Foster in exchange for any valuable information she could give them. She did her best to make it sound as impersonal as she could, but either Isabella was having none of it, or she simply did not believe her protests. Senses dulled by drink, Shy could only weakly insist that she could not travel with Isabella, even as she was dragged to the carriage, and one of the servants was woken to drive.

Now, as morning light appeared through the windows of the carriage Shy felt her head clearing into gray, cold sobriety. "My lady..." she said softly, "where are you taking me?"

"To London," Isabella replied, "If what you told me is true, there is certain to be a trial. You shall bear witness and give your testimony and be on your way. Surely that is what you wanted?"

"Yes, but...but there is to be a trial first at Warwick, then a council is to be summoned in London. I was to be taken to Warwick by...by the outlaws, my lady," Shy said.

"Led into a city by a band of wanted outlaws? How ridiculous! You are lucky I don't charge you with associating with enemies of the Prince," Isabella laughed.

"My lady, you know none of this has to do with you," Shy said, "I did not even know you were alive when I agreed to this."

"And I, likewise, did not know you were a spy."

"My lady can you not just let me go? I will not speak of anything that has happened. I'll not tell the outlaws where you are! Please!" Shy begged, hoping the desperation in her voice showed.

"Now Shy, it sounds as if you have some other reason to want to stay on in Nottingham," Isabella slowly pulled out a dagger from her sleeve, she held it up to her face, twirling the blade with her good hand, letting the sun catch the iron shine. "Is that true?"

"I wish to know if the job is done. I wanted to be there to see it, my lady," Shy shrank back against her seat, restraining herself from reaching into her own sleeve and retrieving her own weapon.

"I do really want to believe that, Shy," Isabella said. "And I think you think you are telling the whole truth."

"I am, my lady!"

"No, there is something missing. Something I am not yet seeing, so you will be staying with me. Don't fret, I won't harm you. You know we are quite alike you and I? Yes...quite alike."

"My lady...please put that knife away! If you say you do not want to harm me then why hold me against my will? Why take out a weapon? Please, my lady, anything I did was done for my own sake."

Shy felt a shudder race through her as Isabella compared herself to her own plight. Shy tried to find a madness in those eyes, but all she saw was cold calculation and bitter sanity. Shy swallowed the bile building up in the back of her throat. "My lady," she began to say in far less of a coddling tone one would use to talk to a mad person, "just let me go. The outlaws will come for me. I think you know this."

"I am counting on that, yes," Isabella replied. She had stopped twirling the knife. She had placed it upon her lap, no longer threatening her.

"That is only asking for trouble, my lady. I don't want to see any harm come to you, I really don't," Shy surprised herself with how much she meant that. "You saved me once because there was a kindness in you, you can save me again. I will tell them not to go after you, if that is what you fear. They will listen to me."

"Really?" The knife went up again, "and why would they be inclined to listen to you?"

"We are friends, I think, my lady. They helped me and I aided them. They will have to listen to me. They will owe me."

Isabella scoffed at the notion of remaining friends with the outlaws. She turned her head so that she stared out the window. "When we arrive at the next village I will...let you go where you will. Do not ask for more."

Shy sighed, thanking the Lord she had managed to reach Isabella's compassionate side at last. The compromise was a decent one, she was not so far out of Nottingham to not make her way back before the day was out, and if she did not make it to the town she could at least make it back to the camp in Sherwood. Archer and the others would return there eventually. Shy nodded her head, her mouth dry. "Thank you, my lady." Isabella did not acknowledge her thanks, she simply stared silently out the window. Shy frowned, struck by the pang of empathy welling within her. By rights she should be furious for this kidnapping, but all she could summon was a half-hearted annoyance. She saw herself, Shy realized, she saw how she had looked all those years imprisoned under Lord Foster, she saw the maddening fury and the hopeless sorrow.

"My lady..."

The horses outside gave a whinny of terror and suddenly the carriage was jerked to a stop. Shy nearly tumbled from her seat, Isabella winced at the jarring motion and clutched at her injured arm. Outside, Shy could hear the pounding of horse hooves and the frightening protests of the servant accompanied by a frantic shouting.

"Guy!" The name left Shy in such a shock she could not register the grave error she had just made. Immediately, she locked eyes with Isabella who appeared stricken at the mention of her brother. Shy's face paled and she was about to try and find some way of explaining herself when Isabella bridged the gap between them, bringing her against her chest, the dagger at her throat.

The carriage door was opened almost at this very same moment. Isabella found herself staring directly at the figure of the brother she long thought dead and buried underneath the rubble of Nottingham Castle. There was only a fraction of a second for the two siblings to get over the shock of seeing one another alive. Isabella pressed the dagger against Shy's flesh, "Stay where you are!"

It was clear that Guy wasn't going anywhere. "Isabella, let her go."

"Why so you can arrest me as well?" She snarled.

"My lady, what are you doing? You said you would release me!" Shy asked. Isabella wasn't pressing the blade hard enough against her skin to cause her to bleed or feel any discomfort at all. Was she trying not to hurt her? In which case she was reacting out of fear and desperation.

"You...you knew my brother was alive," Isabella spat, "and yet you lied to me. I wonder what you have told her about me, Guy!"

"He hasn't told me anything!" Shy said, "I swear. He's just a part of the gang like the others. He helped me to arrest Foster, that's all! He's nothing to me, my lady apart from an ally. Don't do this!"

Isabella could see Archer and the captain of Foster's guard, Brennan. Guy was monopolizing any effort to help, blocking the carriage door as he did. "This is between you and me, Isabella," he said, he did not even look at Shy. "Shy has nothing to do with this."

"But she does," Isabella said with a thin laugh. "She has allied herself with you, she has made this her fight as well."

"She hasn't Isabella," Archer said from behind Guy. "You can not blame the girl for seeking help when she had no choice."

"He's right," Shy said. "You are trying to defend yourself, I know, my lady. We can give you our word we will not give chase. Just leave me here with them."

"That we can do, Isabella," Archer said.

"And since when has your word counted for anything!" Isabella, snapped at him. "And yours even less so," she added to Guy.

"It is not their word you need to trust. It is mine." Shy felt Isabella press the knife harder against her throat as soon as Guy dared to reach out a hand for hers. Shy hissed at the pinprick of pain.

"I cannot," Isabella said, a note of apology in her voice.

"Then I am truly sorry, my lady," Shy said. Without warning she reached for Isabella's limp and injured arm, twisting it with cruel force. Isabella fell back with a scream of pain which chilled Shy. Shy scrambled from her clasp as the woman clutched at her arm. Guy caught her with a gasp and helped her down from the carriage. Shy did not allow her arms to linger about Guy's body, but she willed the man to feel the caress in her hands as she released him.

Shy looked up at him and noticed he was smiling at her. A sense of overpowering relief swept through her body. The nightmare of going back to Foster dimmed for a moment, the panic of losing Guy to her hastily spoken, and spiteful words vanished.

There was the stinging sound of metal singing through air, then the dull sound as it struck into its intended target. At first the sound seemed odd to Shy's ears, and even odder was the sight before her. Guy staggered back away from the carriage, his hands clutching a hilt of a dagger which had buried itself in his side. That was not right. That could not be right. There was a scream of fear unlike anything Shy had ever heard ringing in her ears, it took her a moment to realize it was coming from her own mouth. Guy crashed to the ground and from inside the carriage, Isabella began to laugh. Archer shouted something Shy could not comprehend and he launched himself into the carriage, to tackle Isabella into submission. Brennan was kneeling beside Guy's body, surveying the damage done. It was only at Guy's pain-filled whimpering at being moved which managed to shake off Shy's shock. She hurried to him, nearly knocking Brennan to one side.

"Shy..." Guy said, his voice whisper soft and tight with pain.

"Hush," Shy surprised herself at how steady her voice sounded while the rest of her trembled, "Let me see."

The dagger was buried up to the hilt. Shy dared not pull it out. She had no means of stopping the bleeding in time. "Not too bad," she told him, lying through her teeth. "I've seen worse on you." Guy smirked at that last comment.

"What can we do?" Brennan asked as Archer came over, leading a bound, gagged, and unconscious Isabella over to them. He deposited her onto the floor. "Shy?" Brennan asked again, seeing the silent panic paralyzing her, "What can we do?"

"Oh...yes...I...I need to get him somewhere inside. I...I need supplies..."

"Locksley is closest, but that's long down the road. Can we get him there in time?" Archer asked.

"I don't know," Shy whispered, "I don't know...if the knife is moved it will cause further damage...but, I don't..."

Guy reached for Shy's hand, he hushed her as she had him. Shy felt the ball of tears wax hot in her eyes, but she forced them down. Her throat was constricted and tight. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. The gentle motion of Guy's thumb tracing up her wrist to the base of her fingers calmed the panic fogging her mind. She gave her head a little shake. "I will need a fire," she said looking up at the two men.

Brennan was the first to respond. "I will go," he said as he rose to his feet, disappearing into the wood.

"And what can I do?" Archer asked.

Shy unsheathed her own dagger, "Help me cut around the knife. I need to get his coat and tunic off." She made a tear along the side of the coat, sawing her way in a circular pattern around the hilt of the knife. Archer assisted with a blade of his own and soon, coat was removed and tunic was able to be pulled up and over the wound. For the moment there was only a thin trickle of blood from where the knife was imbedded in him, but Shy knew the moment she removed the blade more blood would come, fast and as furious as water pouring from a crumbling dam. Guy was still awake, and still coherent. "What I will have to do...it will be painful," she told him. She looked over at Archer, "When Brennan returns with the wood, and after the fire is started I will need you to place a sword into the flames. It must be heated until it is glowing red, understand?" Archer nodded.

Brennan crashed through the trees with a bundle of sticks and fallen branches. "Will this do?" he asked, breathless.

"It will have to," Shy said. "Quickly, get a fire going as hot as you can make it."

Without another word Brennan went to the packs still attached to one of the horses and rummaged about for flint. Archer unsheathed his sword and went over to assist Brennan. Guy gripped Shy's hand harder, bringing her focus back to him. "How are you?" he asked her. "Are you...unhurt?"

Shy felt laughter bubble to the surface. "You are lying here with a dagger in your side and you ask me if I am unhurt? Oh, Guy!"

"Will you not answer the question?"

"Not now I won't."

Shy could see from Guy's face that he took this avoidance as confirmation of his worst fears. His face fell and he gripped her hand with renewed fervor. Seeing this Shy gasped, "No! No, Guy I was not hurt. Please don't think otherwise, please."

He did not seem to believe her. Shy leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Guy tried to raise his head to keep his mouth to hers, but he could not. "Content yourself with this answer," Shy whispered.

Tedious minutes passed as the fire was lit and the sword heated in the flames. "We are ready!" Archer called out.

Shy fumbled with the sheath to her dagger. The straps were difficult to untie in her present state. The breath would not come properly to her lungs and her fingers felt cold and alien to her. At last the straps fell away and she pulled the sheath from the sleeve of her dress. "Bite down on this," she advised Guy, placing the straps in his mouth.

Archer came over with the sword, it glowed a hellish red. It was hard to remember that the use of that sword could save Guy's life. Shy had the sudden urge to throw the sword aside and not let it touch him. "You must prepare yourself," she said to Guy. He only nodded, his body having already grown ridged at the oncoming pain.

Shy placed her hand upon the dagger's hilt. "When I pull this out you must quickly place the flat of the blade against the wound. Hold it there until I tell you to move," she explained to an ashen-faced Archer. "Ready?" He nodded.

Shy pulled upward and felt the blade come away. Immediately blood began to rush out of the wound to stream down Guy's body. Archer wasted no time, as soon as he caught sight of the bleeding he pressed the red-hot sword against the open wound. There was a hiss and a rise of smoke. The sickly, sweet smell of burning flesh hit both Archer and Shy full on. Guy screamed into the leather straps, biting down hard and squeezing Shy's hand even harder. He tried to kick out in an instinctual effort to get away from the maddening pain, but Shy held him down, doing her best to keep him still, hushing him all the while, her voice weak and her face a pale green. She could only signal to Archer with a small wave to move the sword. An ugly burn now replaced the open wound. The healthy skin which had surrounded the wound was red, blistered and painfully raw, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

"We must get him back to Locksley," Shy said. "Lady Thea will have medical supplies there and she can help me."

"But how will we get him there?" Brennan hazarded the question. "He can't very well ride in his condition."

"He won't have to," Archer said brightly. "We have a carriage at our disposal!"

Shy had forgotten about the carriage. "Help me carry him to it!"

Brennan and Archer managed to lift Guy and carry him toward the carriage. Shy jumped inside, helping the men set him down. Shy sat with Guy's head in her lap, her arms about him. Archer spoke as calmly as he could to her. "Isabella will ride with me and Brennan is going to drive the carriage, seeing as my sister's servant seems to have run off. Oh well, I'm sure we'll see him fleeing for the authorities somewhere down the road. Poor fellow, doesn't know I am the only authority in this shire at the moment. Will you be all right?"

"Yes," Shy assured him. "The sooner we get back to Locksley the better."

"Right, and don't worry about this one dying," Archer said with forced confidence, "He's far too much in love with you to leave you." He winked and shut the carriage door.

"Meddlesome bastard," Guy groaned, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Shy could not help the small laughter which emerged. Guy was shivering from shock and Shy wished she had a blanket she could place over him. She wished also she had had clean bandages to cover the wound with, and water to clean it. She wished she had Lady Thea's medicines with her so that she could dull his pain. All she could do was hold him to steady him and minimize the shocks of the unkempt road. Guy looked up at her, his eyes unusually clear.

"Forgive me."

"I want to," Shy said, brushing his hair away from his sweat-soaked brow. "Just as I want you to forgive me. But if I were to forgive you absolutely right now it would only be because I am so scared of losing you."

Guy sighed, closing his eyes briefly as exhaustion began to take its toll on his weary body. Shy continued weaving her fingers through his hair. It was an action which seemed to soothe him and calm the tremors. Shy could see Guy's face was a mask of pain. "I think you planned this. I think this was all a part of your scheme. Get hurt to make me feel guilty for leaving you so that I would spoil you something terrible."

"Is it working?" Guy asked, cracking one eye open.

"Might be," Shy said shakily, her breath hitching in her throat. She took his hand and kissed it.

Soon talking became too much of an effort and Shy let Guy rest in silence. He refused to sleep; however, as if he knew that Shy would wake him if he did. If he closed his eyes it was only for a moment or two before he blinked them open. Shy's face was nearly as white as his own. She could see him getting worse with each moment. The hold about her hand became weaker and weaker. Even as he shivered Shy could feel him burning. How long before the mounting fever made him delirious?

"Stay with me." It was a pathetic, whispered plea. She must have sounded like a child.

Guy could not answer. He turned his head towards her and gave her hand a small squeeze. At first Shy thought he was merely trying to assure her he would be all right, but when his grip refused to slack off she realized he was anchoring himself to her.

"I love you," she said as if this was what he was merely waiting for her to say, and at the very words he would be made well again.

Guy moved her hand so that it rested over his heart and Shy could not help the shuddering laugh at the gesture. His heartbeat was still strong. Shy took courage from that. She blinked back tears still unwilling to be shed. She had brought him back from the brink of death once before. Guy stared up at her, and Shy noted the resolve in his gaze. He managed a small smirk. A look of defiance? Shy felt her own strength returning. He was not going to leave her. She was not going to let him.

A/N: Ahehe...Well and least Shy and Guy are finally together right? Right...? *Runs like hell*