Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow or any Arrowverse media, I don't own The Princess Bride (Book or Movie) or anything else, except-ish the story itself here that I'm writing. Ish. Sorta. Kinda. Anyway.
As with the last few fic updates, I apologize for the delay here. Hit a rough patch writing wise, things seem to have returned to a better pace now, so ideally we're back to every two months.
The Canary Bride
By Kylia
Chapter 4: Hanging By The Edge
Starring
The Green Arrow as "The Man in Black"
Barry, Damien and Laurel were all latched onto the harness attached to Ray's suit. Ray was a brilliant man, and his suit was giving him the strength to climb such a great distance, something no one would be able to do otherwise.
Well, almost no one.
Hand over hand, Ray started the climb. He could feel the strain that carrying three people was putting on his suit, but he'd run the numbers. It would make it to the top, but he couldn't go as fast as he'd like. Swallowing, Ray kept going, hand over hand, climbing up. He couldn't feel the rope under his gloves, but he knew it was a solid, thick, heavy one. Absolutely necessary for this work.
Seabirds were cawing, as if laughing, the cliff face covered in moss and other small plants, a few birds perching on outcroppings, clustering, watching them move. He could hear Princess Laurel's breath catch from her position hanging from the harness on his back.
"Don't worry Princess. We'll make it to the top safely."
"You say that as if I should be encouraged to go anywhere with you three."
Ray winced, internally. He'd done a lot of things he wasn't happy with, working for Damien, but this was definitely the worst. Princess Laurel wasn't your average noblewoman, prissy and demanding and arrogant. Sure, the Princess wasn't exactly nice, but Ray wouldn't be nice if someone had kidnapped him and held him prisoner too, so he couldn't hold that against her.
But she was a fighter, and had a spine of steel. And really, what had she done to deserve this?
It's not my job to question the job. Ray told himself. And if he wasn't working for Damien... someone else would have. Damien would have made a different plan, true, but that was his thing. Making plans. That was why he was the leader.
"He's climbing the rope," Barry said, sounding shocked. "And he's gaining on us."
Well that's not good at all. If Ray had been a different sort of person, he might have sworn, but that just wasn't him. He tried to speed things up, hand over hand - but with all three, there was just so much he could do...
He kept his eyes firmly ahead of him, on the rope, on the cliff. He was not going to let himself get distracted by this. If he slipped just a little they'd all plummet to their deaths.
"Inconceivable." Damien said, even more shocked than Barry, voice lower than usual. "How is - that's not - and what the hell is he wearing? Green? And a hood? What is this, Sherwood Forest?"
"Pretty sure that's in England, so no," Barry confirmed.
"I don't pay you to answer obvious questions, Allen! And you, Ray, I hired you because your armor made you stronger than any man could be, able to achieve feats no one else can. And now here's this man, gaining on us!"
Ray bit back a retort, taking a careful, steady breath, trying not to get distracted. "I'm going as fast as I can. But I am carrying three people. He only has himself." Though, that said, the fact that the man was gaining at all was still surprising to Ray. Climbing a rope like this, the distance he'd have to cross, at the speed he was apparently going? That took a lot of strength. And a lot of determination.
What does he want? He can't be after the Princess? Is he after Damien? Damien did sound pretty agitated, so that could be it... but he had also seemed very surprised by the man's apparent green outfit.
"I do not accept excuses. If you can't get us to the top with time to spare, I'm just going to have to find myself a new strongman." Damien berated.
"Don't say that Damien, please?" It would not be fun being unemployed again, not given everything he needed to do, everything that it took to keep this armor working...
Though at least I wouldn't have to keep working with Damien. That would be a plus. Smart and good at planning as he was, he just couldn't stop belittling everyone around him.
"Look, Damien, we're almost there," Barry pointed out, and they were indeed, the top of the cliff looming close, rapidly approaching... Barry deftly climbed past Ray to get up to the top, clearing the way for Damien to as well, and together they unlatched Laurel from the harness, allowing Ray to get up as well.
Even as Ray got over the top, on all fours on the rock at the edge of the cliff, Barry's hand helping him up, he could see Damien was already cutting at the rope with a knife, but the thick, sturdy material was working against him. He could hear Damien muttering under his breath.
"He couldn't wait until I was all the way on the cliff to start cutting?" Ray looked at Barry.
"You work for a man that would treat your lives so callously?" Laurel demanded, raising an eyebrow.
"Occupational hazard in our line of work," Ray admitted. "Damien's far from the worst." Barry shrugged, but nodded in agreement. Laurel frowned.
Part of the rope finally split, but there was still more to do, still more to cut. Ray got to his feet.
"You seem... honorable men, in your own way," Laurel finally said after a moment, to Barry and him. "You deserve better than working for a man like that," she gestured at Damien with her bound hands.
Ray started to say something, but then... well, he couldn't think of anything. Barry seemed as much at a loss for words as him.
I really don't want this to end how it has to. Surely they could start the war without killing the princess right? That way they'd still get paid and she wouldn't have to die? She really didn't deserve it.
Damien's knife finally cut through the rope and it snapped entirely, the cut-off portion zooming down, off the edge of the cliff, faster than even Barry's considerable running speed. Barry walked over to the edge of the cliff, then looked back at Ray, mouth agape, eyebrow raised.
Confused. But what could he be confused-
No...
Ray walked over to the edge, looking down. He blinked, looked again. There was a man in green, holding onto the cliff-face, looking up at them. That - how on... How? That shouldn't be possible.
He looked back up at Barry, mirroring his expression for a moment. "He's got very good arms?" It seemed wholly inadequate as an explanation, but... it had to be true.
Damien walked up as well, staring down. He brandished the knife, gesticulating furiously - Barry and Ray both stepped back a half-pace to keep away from the blade. "He didn't fall!? Inconceivable!"
Barry looked at Damien for a moment. "I - you keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means." Before Damien could do more than make a face, the man in green started to move his foot upwards and to the side, finding an outcropping he could use to leverage himself up, one hand doing the same.
Damien took a breath. "Whoever he is, he's seen us with the princess, and must therefore die."
Ray had to grant that it was fair. He felt less bad about this man dying. He couldn't be an innocent, not if he was chasing them like this. It would be regrettable, but just business.
Damien gestured to Ray with the knife, then the princess. "You, carry her." He looked over at Barry. "We'll push on ahead to the edge of Glades borderlands. Catch up after he's dealt with. If he falls, fine, if not, the sword."
Barry nodded as Damien walked away. Ray helped Laurel to her feet, murmuring a quiet apology as he hefted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"I'm going to duel him left-handed." Barry explained. Ray knew what this was about. Barry loved a good, challenging fight, and as skilled as he was with a blade, he didn't run into those often. So he liked to give himself a handicap sometimes.
"Barry, I don't have time for your sense of... fair play. I'm in a hurry. We're in a hurry!"
Barry shook his head, "If I use my right, it'll be over too quickly. I haven't had a challenge in months. You have to give me this. It's not like it will take that much longer."
Damien rolled his eyes, sighing, then spread his arms magnanimously. "Fine. Have it your way." Barry walked over to the edge of the cliff to take a look at the man in green.
"Be careful, Barry," Ray cautioned. "People who hide their face can't be trusted."
With Ray carrying the Princess, Damien and Ray headed further inland, away from the ruined fortress that sat at the top of the cliffs, and towards the borderlands of the Glades, where the rest of Damien's plan would be carried out, and he'd get his payday.
Meanwhile, however, Barry stayed at the edge of the cliff, before stepping away. The fencer was a man who did many things in his life quickly - he studied quickly, he ran quickly, he fought quickly. He was used to things going fast. And he hated it when things slowed down.
I hate waiting. Barry thought for the third time in as many minutes. He pulled out his sword with his left hand, giving it a few experimental swings, a thrust, a block. He still had it. It wouldn't be that much of a handicap, not against most opponents, but maybe this man might actually be a challenge.
Finally, Barry had enough and walked back to the edge. The man in green had made progress, but he still had a long way to get to the top. At this rate, even if he does make it to the top in the next... hour, or more, he'll be too exhausted to be worth fighting!
"Hey there!" No response, "Slow going?" Maybe he could get the man to move faster.
"This isn't as easy as it looks, so if you could spare the pleasantries and stop distracting me, I'd appreciate it." The man called back, eyes on the cliff, looking for handholds, probably.
How is he able to do this?
"Sorry." Barry stepped back.
"Appreciated."
A few more minutes of practice later, Barry frowned. Come on. He walked back to the edge.
"I appreciate that must not be easy, like you said, but there isn't a way you could speed it up? At all?"
"If it's really that important to you, you could always find something helpful to do, maybe lower a rope, or a tree branch?" the man in green demanded. "Otherwise, please, be quiet!"
Barry hated to admit the man had a point, but thankfully, Barry did have an option. He looked back, just to make sure. There was still quite a bit of rope tied around the boulder. It should be enough.
"I could help with that. There is some rope up here." Barry's sense of fair play compelled him to go on, "But... well, you might not accept it. I am only waiting around here to kill you."
The man in green said nothing for a moment, "That does make me less inclined to accept your help, yeah."
"But," Barry held up a hand, "I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top."
"That's very comforting," the man said dryly, "But I'm afraid you'll just have to wait."
Barry stepped away from the edge, sighting. "I hate waiting," he said again. He stepped back to the edge. "I could give you my word as a citizen of Central?"
"No good. I've had some bad experiences with people from Central." The man grunted, grabbing a handhold and getting a little closer.
"There has to be some way I could get you to trust me." Barry protested. "I kill with my blade, not with anything else."
"I can't think of anything. We can worry about blades once I'm at the top."
Barry frowned. For some reason, he felt like it was really important he not wait. That... speed was even more essential than usual.
He took a breath, and spoke slower. "I swear on the soul of my mother, Nora Allen, you will reach the top alive."
The man in green said nothing for a moment, then, "Throw me the rope."
With that moment of trust established, Barry indeed moved back to the rock, uncurling the rope from around it, and tossing it down to the man in green, who grabbed it. Barry held it tight - the weight wasn't easy, but with a good bit of leverage, he was able to use it, and to help pull the man up as he climbed. Soon enough, the man in green was atop the cliff.
Barry could finally get a good look at the man who would be his opponent. He wore green, and nothing but, save for some straps and buckles, and his boots, which were dark brown. It was a green vest of some sort, over top more green, the sleeves down to his wrists, a green hood and what looked like an equally green domino mask around his eyes. He had a beard and mustache, but it was closely trimmed.
The man in green had a sword at his belt. The hilt looked plain, but functional. Maybe this man could be a challenge after all?
"Thank you," he said, breathing heavily, but Barry held up a hand.
"You can take a breather first. No need to fight yet."
The man nodded. "Again, thank you." he moved over to a flat-ish rock, sitting down, taking off a boot to shake a few smaller rocks out of it. Barry leaned against a rock. The man wore green gloves over his hands.
Barry's memory of the man who had killed his mother was not as strong as he'd wished - everything had gone by so fast, so... the face was a blur, the build... but the one thing that he'd always noticed, that had always stood out, was his hand.
"I don't mean to sound like a crazy person when I say this, but your right hand isn't made of yellow gold, is it?"
"You're right. It does make you sound a little crazy. Do you always open conversations with future opponents this way?" The man asked, deadpan.
Barry had to lean his head to the left a little, acknowledging the point. "The man who killed my mother. I never got much of a look at his face, but his right hand was made of yellow gold - but it moved, held things, worked like any other hand."
The man in green removed the glove from his right hand, revealing a normal, pinkish human hand.
Barry nodded, "Thank you." He exhaled, "She was a great sword maker, my mother. When the man with the hand of yellow gold came, he requested a special sword. He was very particular about how he wanted it. She spent a year on it, but finally, she was done." He retrieved the sword from his scabbard, the perfectly balanced blade, the artfully and tastefully bejeweled hilt. He held it out, flat on his hands, and the man in green looked at it, picking it up with his left hand, examining it for a moment, then setting it back on Barry's hands.
"I've never seen one like it."
"The golden-handed man returned, but said he would only pay a tenth of what he had promised. Naturally, my mother refused." Barry exhaled. "He stabbed her through the heart, didn't even say anything." He shook his head, the pain never fully healed, still there, as he knew it always would be until he found the man. His father hadn't lasted for long, after his mother's death.
"I love my mother. So naturally, I tried to avenge her." Barry laughed hollowly. "I failed. He spared me, but he gave me this," he held up his right palm, revealing the scar there. "A reminder, he said."
"How old were you?"
"Eleven." Barry shook his head. "From the moment I was strong enough, I dedicated myself to the study of the blade. Eventually, I'll find the man with a golden hand. And I won't fail then. I'll look him in the eye, and make sure he knows why he'll be dying: Hello," Barry said, the words he'd resolved on many years ago coming easily from his lips. "My name is Barry Allen. You killed my mother. Prepare to die."
The man in green gave him a respectful look, "And you've done nothing but study swordplay since?"
Barry laughed, "More pursuit than study these days. I've looked, and I've listened for twenty years... no one knows anything about such a man." He shrugged, "I only work with Damien to cover my costs. There's not a lot of money in revenge."
The man in green nodded, was silent for a long moment, and then he stood.
"I think you'll find him, one way." He said, standing up. Barry stood as well.
"You are ready then?"
"Close enough," he confirmed. "You've been more than fair to give me a chance to catch my breath. The least I can do is not keep you waiting any longer." The man in green smirked. He was confident too.
Maybe he really will be a good challenge, as long as I use my left hand.
"You seem like a pretty good guy, at the end of the day." Barry drew his sword with his left hand. "I hate that this has to end with you dying."
"You seem pretty good too, your current line of work aside," the man in green said back, drawing his own blade. Left-handed. Always a few different tricks when you fought someone who was left-handed. He ran through them in his head, getting ready. "I can't say the prospect of dying is a pleasant one." He raised his sword, pointing it at Barry. Barry did the same.
"Begin." Barry said, thrusting forward.
