Broken Arrow

of them. But he hadn't left any of his own men on watch. Which meant he either hadn't had time yet, or he'd already taken the castle and was supremely confident his forces could defend it.

Dale was hoping for the former, but if it did turn out to be the other option… Well, they'd already fought and won one battle that day against those very same forces. Okay, that also meant the men who'd come with him — who'd made that tiring journey, with no rest and not even a pit stop for something to eat — were not exactly at their best. Robert had already asked a lot of them, and now they were expected to fight another army, this time entrenched behind the castle's walls.

Dale was no good at making speeches. That was Robert's forte. Could try singing to them, I suppose, he thought. In the end he managed to persuade the men to come with him and do a recce, scope out exactly what was happening. They left the horses behind and made their way up through the city, keeping to the shadows and conscious that The Tsar could well have posted armed men anywhere.

When they got close enough, they entered a building which offered a direct line-of-sight up Friar Lane, towards the castle. From one of the upstairs windows they observed through binoculars. Each one of them saw the devastation The Tsar's men had caused, illuminated by lights from the armoured vehicles parked both inside and outside the castle grounds. The castle itself had taken a hit, too, one top corner having been chipped away by a rocket or shell blast.

Once each member of the squad had taken a turn, Dale hadn't needed to give any speeches. This was their home — the only one a lot of them had known since virus times. They'd headed The Tsar's forces off because they'd been trying to prevent this. But the sneaky bastard had divided his troops and hit the castle anyway. Now, each and every one of the fighters with him wanted it back.

And they didn't care what it took.

'So Robert has somewhere to return to,' Dale said to them, and they all agreed.

There had been no sign of any of those closest to The Hooded Man, though: Mark, Mary, Jack and Reverend Tate especially.

Or Sophie. Where was Sophie?

Dale had to assume they were being held somewhere inside the castle, because the alternative was just too horrifying.

All they needed now was a plan of action, and they were looking at him to provide one. He thought about what Robert would say if he were here.

'Okay, we'll divide into three teams,' said Dale when they regrouped. 'Hit them from the front and sides at the same time. We have our ropes, our arrows. We can scale the cliffside, the walls, and get inside. They haven't fixed up the mess they've made of the gate yet, so we don't even have to break in there. We've trained for this, guys. We know that place inside out. They don't.' He split the numbers, giving the cliff job to Azhar and his band, detailing how he wanted covering fire laid down for the frontal assault, and explaining how he would lead the third team in through those busted gates. 'None of us are gettin' any younger — so let's do this.'

Dale had played some gigs in his time, but this one had to take the cake. One day, he said to himself, songs actually will be sung about what we've done… what we're going to do today.

He just hoped he would be the one singing them.

'Before you start, you should know: I've had a really, really bad day.'

Jack ducked back inside the stables a fraction of a second before he heard the first bang.

His reactions were definitely slower than usual, because a bullet nicked his arm. Compared with everything else he'd been through, it felt like a gnat bite. And it made him angrier than ever.

'Right,' he said, taking hold of his machine gun. Reaching across himself, he poked the end out and treated the soldiers to a blast. After the first burst, the weapon clicked — either empty or jammed. 'Goddamn!' shouted Jack, tossing the gun away.

He looked around desperately for something, anything to use in its place. Then he saw it: there was an old broom over in the corner. He edged sideways and grabbed it — pulling off the head and testing its weight. It was a far cry from his staff, but it would have to do.

Jack crouched and rounded the corner, this time holding his makeshift staff out in front of him — charging at any of the soldiers still standing and slamming the wood against their knees, bowling them over.

He stabbed the handle left and right, hitting one soldier in the temple and smashing another one's front teeth in. Jack let adrenalin take over, just like he used to in the ring.

One soldier attempted to get up, and Jack jumped on him. Another was running off back down the slope towards the tunnel. Jack struggled to his feet, hefting the stick like a javelin, and threw it. The end of the wooden pole struck the fleeing man in the back of the head and he went down.

Jack moaned, only now feeling the mounting pain. He made his way down to the tunnel himself, willing his exhausted body onwards.

Picking up the staff, he checked the tunnel for the approach of any more soldiers — knowing that somebody must surely have heard the gunfire. But if they had, they'd be coming down the steps above him, not up the path, and so he was shielded for the moment.

Jack made his way down through the tunnel, pressing himself against the side when he got to the other end, seeing the armoured vehicles still on the castle grounds near the gatehouse. There were also clumps of troops — not as many as he'd been expecting (not as many as when they took the castle from De Falaise) but enough to cause him to groan in frustration. Not all were in uniform, some he recognised from the hotel prison — heck, some he'd even apprehended himself! They'd been given weapons as well, it seemed, drafted into The Tsar's employ. What he didn't see this time, strangely, were any of the cultists.

Suddenly there was shouting and Jack saw one of the troopers point up the slope in his direction. Then a squadron was heading his way, hefting their rifles.

They hadn't got halfway up the drive before they opened fire. Jack squashed himself flat against the wall, expecting bullets to spark off the stone. They didn't. And he could hear more gunfire, coming from another part of the castle, up and over to his right, over near the cliffside.

Jack looked again, and the group he thought were coming after him had veered off to the left, towards the gate. Then one of them was suddenly on fire. It was like he had spontaneously combusted, the flames spreading outwards from his chest to consume him. When he turned sideways, just before falling over in a blazing ball of orange, Jack saw the arrow sticking out of him.

Robbie! It had to be. The very thought that The Hooded Man had returned from fighting The Tsar's forces filled him with new energy.

More flaming arrows struck home, the soldiers they were hitting running this way and that, firing indiscriminately at shadows. That's because his men were following their training, sticking to the darkness where they wouldn't be seen; hitting their opponents hard and then retreating.

It was time Jack joined them.

He came out of the tunnel, just as a Russian soldier was running past him. Jack swung his staff, connecting with the man's face, knocking him flat on his back. Jack trod on him to get to the next soldier, hitting that one in the stomach as the man swung his rifle in Jack's direction. Jack struck the soldier's temple and he fell on top of his companion.

As he cleared the tunnel Jack looked up and saw other soldiers running from the castle, jumping down from the Middle Bailey, joining their comrades in the struggle. This time they were on the receiving end, but it was a stealth attack — not a show of force. And they'd been caught on the back foot.

Nevertheless, it was still machine guns against bows and arrows. And if they brought some of that other heavy weaponry into play… Jack had no idea how many allies he had out there — it was difficult to tell with a flash here, a flash there — but they had to cripple as many of The Tsar's men as they could, or this would be over as quickly as it had been the first time around.

More flaming arrows whizzed by ahead of him, but as he watched Jack saw these exploding in the grounds, flinging bunches of soldiers into the air as effectively as if someone had just tossed a grenade into their midst.

Soldiers ran around the grounds, confused. Nobody seemed to be in charge, and no-one apparently wanted the job. Jack guessed Tanek and Adele must have gone after Mark, Tate and Sophie at Sherwood. But where was