𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 3

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I led the way to the solar, somewhat reluctantly. I didn't particularly enjoy being at the forefront. Surely I'd be the first person to be attacked, and that wasn't something I was particularly keen on.

Mind you, bringing up the rear could have been just as bad. I wasn't sure which I'd have preferred, but I didn't have much choice. Robin and the gang seemed to be relying on Marian and me to take charge.

I suppose I should have been flattered that the gang had placed their trust in me, and why wouldn't they? Nottingham Castle was mine and Marian's territory, after all, and we had summoned the outlaws to help us. I just hoped that they would cover my back admirably if a vampire decided to ambush. I wouldn't blame them if they left me die after all I'd done to them, but sure enough, the lads came through for me. By the time we reached the Sheriff's chambers, we had dispatched five of the undead, leaving bodies littering the castle's stone floor behind us.

The door to the solar still stood open, and a quick search of the chambers showed them to be empty, although they had been ransacked.

"We'll have to search the castle," Marian said. "He could be anywhere."

"He'll be feeding," Robin said with certainty.

"So what do we do? Follow the trail of bloodless bodies?" Djaq cried indignantly, moving closer to Will.

"That may be all we can do," Marian replied sagely, seeming unruffled.

I scratched my chin, speculatively, my mind racing. Last night, the Sheriff had been in Sarah's room, and his devilish plans had been thwarted - by me. Maybe, just maybe, he had returned to finish the job.

"I think I know where he'll be," I said.

I was wrong. The Sheriff wasn't in Sarah's small room; however, Sarah was, and she had changed.

Nobody answered when I knocked on the rough wooden door, but the door wasn't closed properly and my ministrations dislodged the loose catch. It swung open slowly, the hinges squealing ever so slightly, and I peered into the gloom beyond.

".... Sarah?" Whereas normally I would have sauntered in, something told me that things weren't normal anymore, and I hesitated on the threshold, displaying a little more nervousness that I generally ever allowed for.

"Allan, is that you?" Her voice came from the direction of the pallet, and it sounded very much like she was lying down.

Maybe she was alright, I thought hopefully, edging forwards. "Are you well, luv?"

There was movement within, a smooth and slightly threatening hush of sound, and I stopped.

"I'm all the better for seeing you, Allan. Come to me." Sarah's voice sounded closer. The movement must have been the sound of her rising from the pallet.

I froze. Something was different. There was a tone to her voice that wasn't usually there. A seductive quality that I wasn't used to. To be honest, it scared me. Sarah was a lovely girl, and very accomplished at what she did, but her charm was in her down-to-earth manner. She was no femme fatale, yet the woman in her room definitely was.

"Errr," I said, having lost the power of rational speech.

"Come here, Allan. I've got something for you." Her tone was now sing-song, and I felt an inexorable pull towards her, like unseen hands were pulling me forwards.

Luckily, however, Marian was suddenly at my side.

"Get back, Nosferatu," she said, making me blink at her in puzzlement.

Next minute, she flung holy water into the darkness of the room. There was an unearthly screech and the sound of sizzling, and suddenly Sarah rushed from the shadows, her teeth bared and hands clawed before her, heading straight for Marian.

          

I acted without thinking. Stepping forward, I lifted my hand and thrust the wooden stake I was holding forward, more as a way of warding her off than harming her. Sarah, however, ran straight into it and came to an immediate halt as the sharpened point sank into her chest.

I stared, aghast, as black blood immediately began to ooze from the wound. Then, I looked into Sarah's red-rimmed eyes. They were already glazed, and her teeth had shrunk to their usual size. Her skin had a blue tinge to it.

She was dead, I realised, and I jerked away from her, releasing the stake and staring at the blood on my hand. Sarah slumped to the ground in an ungainly heap.

"Allan," Marian said in reproof, eyeing the corpse. "Don't drop her."

"Good work, Allan." Robin clapped me on the back as he moved past us into the room. He stood for a moment, looking down at Sarah impassively, before reaching down to pick her up, his hands beneath her armpits.

"Wait. What are you doing?" I held out a palm to him, but couldn't bring myself to move any closer to Sarah's body, visions of her sharp teeth still fresh in my mind. I wiped my gore-streaked hand on my tunic.

"Moving her to the pallet," Robin said. He paused and looked at me. "Don't you want to help? She's your woman, isn't she?"

"Not exactly," I said weakly, staring at her for a moment before I relented and moved to help him. She may not have been my woman, but she'd been a lovely girl and a fun, part-time companion. It wasn't her fault she'd become a blood-sucker. That was down to the Sheriff.

It was my fault she was dead though, and it filled me with remorse. The least I could do was lay her body to rest somewhere a little more comfortable than the cold, stone floor.

After depositing Sarah on the pallet and pausing to cover her somewhat tenderly with the old deerskins, I left the room to join the rest of the gang. I was feeling slightly flustered but hid it well. Still, Much placed a hand on my shoulder in solidarity, and even Little John afforded me a sympathetic glance. I lowered my head, feeling thankful yet a little despondent at the same time.

"Where's the Sheriff then?" Marian spoke up grimly, breaking the silence.

As she spoke, there came a shrill scream from the direction of the lower bailey. We all looked towards it then exchanged quick glances.

"That way," growled Little John, and we set off.

As we crossed the middle bailey and headed towards the portcullised gateway that led to the lower bailey, scenes of the Sheriff's passing became obvious. Bodies were strewn across the floor with torn-out throats and splayed limbs, and spilled blood stained the ground. Figures feasted on the prone or chased the living hungrily, while the hunted screamed in terror. It was like walking through hell.

Using his bow to send wooden stakes into the hearts of the monsters, Robin managed to despatch quite a few, while the rest of us tackled others by hand, working together to pin them down and stake them. It was hard work. Those vamps had quite a strength to them, and it took a few of us to hold one down. But there was no saving many of those who had been bitten. They seemed to change before our eyes, growing fangs and moving to attack us.

"To the chapel," Marian shouted, holding up her water skin. "I need to refill."

Thankfully, we followed her, with Robin, Much, John, and I bringing up the rear to hold off the approaching undead.

"What are we going to do?" said Much in despair. "They're multiplying!"

"They won't come into the church," Robin assured him grimly. "They're afraid of Christianity."

Halloween in Sherwood 3: The Sheriff's RevengeWhere stories live. Discover now