Twisted Justice

Chapter 7…I'll take back what was stolen

Robin sat with her men. Those under her command of Raoul of Golden Lake and Malories Peak, and Evan Larse were easy enough, eating at a speed only soldiers could manage, and talking quietly.

Robin's men, far from the war-hardened soldiers they were surrounded by, were both pale and resolute. Though they had killed before, it was somehow different from this.

"We've all seen death." Robin said, more to fill the gaping silence than any other reason. "We all know how it feels to kill. To have someone dear killed. That's why we'll fight when the sun rises." She had their full attention. Was she supposed to be a rousing speech? She didn't know if she had the heart to. "If we want the land back, we must fight." Robin stumbled along, speaking with deliberation partially to disguise the fact it was unplanned and off the top of her head, and partially to stop her from making some kind of idiotic blunder. "It won't be a romantic fight to sing of. There will be all too much death and suffering. A sword through the guts has little glory." She lost her train of thought for a moment, then found a new vein. "But…even if we fall…" She had to swallow the lump in her throat. "Even if Finn still holds Avonsleigh, we will have tried our best, and Mithros will have been witness." She sent a hasty prayer that the god would be watching.

She might not have the men on their feet, war cries on their lips, but they looked…steadier. Calm and ready, and more than capable to face what they had to.

The first rays of sun that morning weren't the pale, weak rays Robin has expected, but a dramatic bloody red, as though even the sun was preparing for the coming battle.

With the first strong rays, Robin met Raoul's eyes across the meters that stretched between them.

The King's Own stood in formation, ready to attack. Men stood braced, a thick tree held in their hands. The walls were thick, but the gate was old. It would fall.

She brought her hands to her quiver, took an arrow in scarred fingers. Fitting it to the string, she glanced once over the archers flanking her.

She picked her target, an official of some sort, squinting down at them, blinded by the first rays of light. She loosed her arrow.

It all happened so slowly, like time suddenly turned to thick honey. She watched as it moved in a perfect arc towards the target. She saw the surprise flash across his features. She thought she saw his eyes darken. He flinched a little, then sagged, an arrow in his chest. In the last few seconds she imagined that she met his eyes. His were filled with shock, while hers were cold.

Then time snapped back to normal. The sound of arrows being loosed filled the air.

A few of Evin Larse's men ran along the line with torches. Across her line, Robin's men were dipping their arrowheads into oil then lighting them on the torches. They flew through the sky, burning tracks across the heavens.

Tears dribbled down Robin's cheeks unnoticed. Avonsleigh wouldn't burn, she knew. The fire-protection spells had been done by a man called Numair Salamin, one of the most powerful sorcerers this side of the emerald ocean.

But…

It was everything to her, her heart and soul, and more. Her heritage, her families past, her own future. She had grown stalking the kitchens, the stables. Later she had been put to work, but she would never forget those years spent learning every nook and cranny of not just the castle, but all the surrounding territory.

How could she forget it, when the innocent knowledge had surely saved her life, and the lives of others, time and time again?

Suddenly reality snapped back. The tree held by the King's own hit the gate. The sound was less than satisfying, overridden by the twang of bowstrings. They were now being answered by enemy archers.

Someone shoved a shield in front of Robin, the sound of an object hitting the metal surface made her skin go cold. She looked down to see a broken crossbow bolt.

"No time for tears." Kale held the shield. She should have guessed.

"What're you doing here?" Robin asked, fitting an arrow to her string and trying to push thoughts of enemy crossbows out of her mind. Kale lowered the shield enough for her to shoot. Three arrows later she gave him a chance to raise it. Angrily she dashed away-unwanted tears.

"Why're you crying?" He asked her. When her golden eyes met his, he fell silent. He had been across the lands…yet the stillness in her own eyes would have brought him to his knees, had she not looked away.

"It's personal." Had she said that before? She couldn't recall, but she knew he had seen more than she had waned to show…in her eyes and in her words.

"I've realized." He lowered the shield and she fired a quick volley. "Avonsleigh is your home?"

"Yes." She looked at her fingers, the scars already rubbed raw.

"Once I'm lord…" he trailed off. She felt the fast and fiery denial on the tip of her tongue, but forced it down. "Robin?" Kale asked, tentatively. She looked down. In one hand she held an arrow, the point a whisper away from his shirt.

How did that happen?

She fitted the offending arrow to the string but didn't draw it back until Kale lowered the shield once more.

"You'll always be more than welcome here Robin." He had been passing her arrows, but she hardly noticed, so intent was she on the men on the walls, falling, then being replaced.

"Well that makes it all OK." She said bitterly, kneeling to pick a fallen arrow up.

When she stood and met Kale's eyes, she regretted the sour reply. He looked hurt, though he quickly covered it. She realized then he had saved her life, and had been talking to her like she was a close friend.

She tried to choke out an apology through the up rush of emotion, but couldn't.

He saw it on her face, and it was enough. His free hand touched the corner of her lips, and then fell to his side.

The unspoken communication shook her more than she cared to admit. Yet they both knew that Kale's offer still stood, and that Robin was both sorry and forgiven.

She swayed a little towards him, his hand sliding to her, to pull her against him.

Robin stepped away, shaken. "Maybe at a more suitable time." Kale said, the sound of crossbow bolts hitting the shield not covering his voice.

"Maybe." Robin fitted an arrow to her bow, fired, then repeated the process mechanically. Maybe? Her mind screamed at her. Sure, you're upset, but I just gave him false hopes of a future together…Has the battle gone to my head? Robin shook the head in question, attempting to clear it. Men no longer manned the walls. Or, not where they were vulnerable.

"They had to withdraw sooner or later." Kale said, seeing her mildly disappointed look. Surely killing was easier to face than this.

"The gate's about to buckle, Robin." John's familiar voice drew her gaze to the old gates. It was, indeed, almost ready to buckle. She felt a pang of loss, and buried it for another time. A gate was a gate, regardless of how much history was behind it.

"Maybe now'd be the time to take that secret passage." Kale said, as she slung her bow over her shoulder and hefted her staff. He had seen her fight with it before—and had been glad she kept to long distance weapons.

She agreed with both of his views, though she didn't know the second, they were her own thoughts. "I can't take the passage." She told him. "Its too far away now to be of any use."

He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. Then he'd be watching out for both himself and Robin.

She watched the tree trunk hit the gates. They sagged, almost off their hinges. Robin led her men forward so they were but ten meters from Sir Raoul's group.

"Get your bows ready!" Robin called, as Raoul's group rallied again for the final blow on the gate. A few of the men weren't fast enough. The gates fell, and those who lingered were crushed. Robin and a few other archers were all that stopped the men from holding the pine tree from being slaughtered.

The enemy had waited by6 the gate and now they attacked. "We can't blame 'em for not going down without a fight." John gasped from beside Robin and Kale. "It's not like we nicely, waiting for the axe to fall, is it?"

Robin didn't have a chance to answer. If these men were illusions, then illusions could kill. The King's Own were being driven back. Kale swore and left Robin's side. His hand ran along her arm as he left in an unspoken farewell, understood by both parties. John saw it, but was too busy to comment or even privately puzzle. When the men became too mixed together, the neat ranks in tatters, Robin found it hard to pick targets. She would rather not shoot than run the risk of killing an allied soldier.

So she let her bow fall across her back, took up her staff, and made her way into the fray. She had been the last archer to continue to fire, the targets too uncertain for others long before.

Finn. The image flashed before her eyes, though the man was nowhere to be seen. Robin cast her eyes over the battle. She was nigh-on useless in close range. Plus, she had a personal score to settle with Finn.

Beneath the leather vest and the sweat-soaked shirt with its sleeves rolled high, even beneath the breastband that threatened to come undone was something heavy. It was attached to a tarnished silver chain, and it seemed to burn her skin.

She brought her staff around in time to save her neck, though a thick chunk of wood was knocked loose.

Robin brought her leg up in a kick. Even if most nobles thought hand-to-hand combat was beneath them, Robin was glad of it now. And besides, when you're out weighed, out maneuvered, and generally fed-up, what's so wrong with a little kicking or punching?

Her opponent doubled over, clutching his groin. She swung her staff around and broke his nose. Looking around, she saw Kale at the other end of the courtyard. He grinned at her, having seen her defend herself. She attempted to look down her nose at him. And he had thought she needed looking after!

Then her blood ran cold as a man approached Kale, unhindered, from behind.

She saw the arrow bloom in the center of his chest, found she held her bow in her hands. Kale met her eyes, and the fear she had seen in them would have turned her even colder, if such a thing was possible. Had she thought she was aiming at him? And could she really blame him, if he had? After all, she had spent more than a few hours coming up with creative methods of torture for him.

The he glanced over his shoulder, and saw the dead man.

When he tried to find Robin, she was gone.  

AN: I'd like to blame my slack updating on YOU SLACK REVIEWERS (hint hint) but I'm officially banned from my computer, which means I have to write it free hand at home, then type it up in class when my teacher isn't watching. *checks over shoulder for teacher* and for those of you who read both my current stories, I'll have an update on the 8th, latest.

Gotta run, um, thanks to Ab-scriberer and PsychoLioness for the reviews. No Dom in this series, he's off charming Kel. And Yep, Raoul was kinda grinning….that was exactly what I wanted you to see.