Page 135 of Queen of Sherwood

Besides the jarring sounds and inescapable feeling of impending doom that surrounded fights such as these, there was the stench. The body odor, the tanned leather, the blood and rank breaths as a man bore down on you with a blade and breathed through a dry throat. The sharp tang of swords clashing together, mingling with the other earthy musk of battle.

Perhaps I over-thought everything. My analytical mind was more suited to fantasy, whimsy, and music.

Creativity. There was no creativity in this sort of thing.

Then again, tell Will Scarlet that. The angry little badger fought like a master artist of death. The field was his canvas, and his swords the brushstrokes. I watched him in awe as he took on two, then three, soldiers at once.

He was swifter than them. Smaller than them. I tried aiming my bow into the fray, but worried I would hit his fit, tight body if I wasn’t careful.

So I hesitated. It was never encouraged to fire a volley into a melee when your own people were involved. I’d nearly forgotten that in my mad rush to help my brothers.

Then a soldier charged across the glade at me, barreling into the trees as he managed to get past Will’s whirling dervish.

My eyes widened and I only had time to toss my bow at the man to slow his charge. He batted the wood away, and I drew my sword in his hesitation.

Our blades met. Pain surged up my forearm when we clanged, and my teeth rattled.

I snarled, saying low, “This is very unseemly, sir.”

He said nothing, only growling in response.

“Why did you have to be waiting for us? Now you all must die. A shame, really.”

“Shut up, fucking cur!”

I smiled at him and our blades pushed off one another and banged again.

He tried to slam his shield into me, but I danced away behind a tree. I’d learned from Will to be sprightly and quick on the balls of my feet.

If we lived through this, I’d make sure to give Will’s balls a particularly fond celebration. Him and—

Wait, where was she?

My face contorted. Fear plunged my stomach.

Robin wasn’t where she had been just moments ago.

My eyes widened—

The soldier came lunging again.

I parried his blade, riposted with a quick jab, and kept him back. I didn’t need to kill this man, I only needed to keep him at bay long enough for—

The soldier fell forward on his knees, abruptly, with a dazed look in his eyes. Robert stood over him, blade reeling back as he pulled it out of the man’s spine. He gave me a curt nod and moved on, and I scrambled to my hands and knees to find my bow on the ground.

Long enough for that, really.

Finding the weapon, and my spilled quiver of arrows near it, I hauled it up and crouched on my knees, keeping to the tree line outside the glade.

Sir Gregory was charging at an enormous man who nearly took my breath away. He attacked a full-fledged Templar Knight in the middle of the glade, and everyone was keeping a wide berth around them.

The battle had momentarily stopped, and I used that to my advantage.

I didn’t care much for watching others fight. It wasn’t my style. Unless it was Will, I supposed, but I only liked watching him spar because he fascinated me, and I imagined those wiry, corded muscles wrapping around my body as I had my way with him.

I had an ulterior motive when watching men fight, see, and it all went back to my fantastical outlook and daydreaming qualities.

Blinking, I rushed back to the present. The massive swords of Gregory and the Templar Knight clashed with an explosive, mind-jarring clang.

---