Chapter 23
Oh, that sweet moment of victory! It was worth all that time and effort! Simon de Bellem did not even try to hide his triumphant smile.
The reversal spell worked. It was amusing to watch those two goons from the bandit gang stare at Loxley dumbfounded, as if they'd seen a ghost. And Loxley looks at them and doesn't recognise them, as he only sees what Simon makes him see.
Truly, revenge is sweet and pleasant! His Saracen servant Nazir had once betrayed the Baron by joining the gang of his nemesis Robin of Loxley. This big guy called Little John did the same. And now they will know the price of their betrayal when they fall at the hands of the one they swore allegiance to and recognised as their leader.
In buying them from the sheriff, Baron de Bellem had imagined their fate: the role of sacrificial rams. And Loxley's glazed look made it clear that he was completely at the mercy of the Darkness. With only a little time left, Loxley would become the black magician's obedient slave, and the source that fuelled the black sorcerer's power and might. Of course, the wizard wouldn't do Loxley any favours.
Just as the Baron had no intention of providing Robin with quiet marital bliss. After the two brigands are finished, Simon gives the order to kill Marion and her unborn offspring, but Loxley won't care by this point.
The Baron quietly stood at Robin's right hand and proceeded to whisper mesmerisingly in his ear like a tempting serpent.
- He who betrays once will betray twice. It's obvious, my boy. These two don't even deserve to breathe and walk the earth, let alone regret their deaths. Their paltry lives are just the price to pay for becoming powerful and free. Let their blood free you from fears, pain and suffering, for it is the life-giving elixir that gives man insight and happiness.
Simon placed the ritual knife in Locksley's palm. Robin's fingers gripped its cold hilt with force.
- Then do it! -The black sorcerer said, and stepped back silently.
Nazir saw Robin in front of him, holding a sharp blade. Loxley stood staring at him point-blank. Nazir thought he was having a bad dream or it was a vision and he shook his head, trying to chase away the obsession. It was all too unreal. A living Robin, clad in a strange black outfit, doing someone else's bidding? This is unthinkable! Robin looked at him with eyes full of pain and hatred. Nazir had never seen him like this, it was as if Robin had been replaced, the Saracen realised it was the sorcerer's shenanigans, but how to shout to his friend to stop him?
Nazir strained with all his might and tried to loosen the restraints in some way. In vain, too little time and the ropes too tight. Nazir turned his head and saw Little John, who was also trying to break free and prevent Robin from doing what the black magician had planned. John was in a panic and was tearing at the ropes as hard as he could.
The light of the torches dimmed, the shadows grew darker and thicker, and the hall grew colder. The last act of the demonic performance in which Locksley was to play the leading part was in preparation. Robin knew that, and realised there was no turning back.
Darkness began to thicken in the ritual hall. Some strange monotonous sound suddenly appeared as if from nowhere and hung in the air. It gradually increased in intensity, and soon a muffled, inarticulate muttering became audible. Reflected by the echo, it came from all directions at once.
Robin glanced around. They were the baron's servants, monks in dark robes. Like ghosts, they crept from the dark corners of the castle and moved slowly towards the centre of the hall, muttering in unison the words of the devil's prayer. Forming a wide ring around the altar, they froze, continuing to mutter quietly. Faceless shadows, lost souls in the service of dark forces. The measured sound of their voices blending into a monotonous hum was strangely soothing to Robin. The rage and anger gradually receded, and the fog in his head cleared. He realised that he could think clearly again.
Damn it... Why did he deny the obvious for so long, blindly trusting those who were simply using him? He thought that justice was the same for everyone and those he had always helped would never betray him. Naive fool! The Baron was right all along. Robin should not have taken on this mission of defending the weak and oppressed. A madman! He thought he was a fighter for justice and nearly lost the most precious thing in his life.
Robin looked at Marion. There she was, tied to a column not far from him. He smiled encouragingly at her, catching her frightened look of fear and confusion.
"It's all right, darling, it's going to be all right. We'll be free soon. I can protect you and our future baby. I swear you'll never know want, hunger or cold again. I'll give you back a peaceful and happy life, and save our friends."
His gaze darkened, his smile slowly fading. Shifting his eyebrows, he turned his gaze back to the altar where the bound captives lay. Pitiful wretches. If you have to trade their worthless lives for the lives of those Robin cares about, so be it.
The handle of the knife felt pleasantly cold in the palm of his hand.
A dark figure in a black hooded cloak appeared in front of him as if from the ground. A graceful hand with thin fingers and long nails pulled back the hood. Lilith! There she was again. The demon sparks still danced in her black eyes, her lips curved in a sneer.
"You see, my sweet, everything happened just as I told you!" read Loxley in her mocking gaze. Sneaky little devil.
In Lilith's hands, an object glistened. It was an elaborate bowl of pure silver, quite deep. The light of the torches reflected brightly on its smooth, well-polished surface.
Robin realised what the vessel was for. The witch stepped silently around the altar and took her place at the headboard of the prisoners. It was obvious she couldn't wait to look Loxley in the face the moment he accepted the seal of Darkness.
Lightning flashed outside the castle and thunder rumbled as a harbinger of something terrible and irreparable. Not a muscle on Robin's face twitched. He tilted his head slightly to the side, staring at his victims indifferently, wondering who to start with.