Broken Arrow

CHAPTER TWELVE

He'd been hearing the rumblings of discontentment for some time.

Dale had debated about saying something to someone, but was faced with a dilemma. He was 'one of the guys', a member of the Sherwood Rangers who fought on the streets with his friends. Buddies that he'd made since coming to the castle last year. But he was also very close to Jack and Robert. If it wasn't for them, he might still be wandering around this country looking for a place to fit in. A former lead singer and guitarist in a band, whose life had fallen to bits after the virus struck, and who'd drifted from town to town, city to city, with a guitar in one hand and his other hand folded into a fist.

He often thought back to those days before everyone got sick: to the gigs he'd played with the other guys — Abbott on bass, Lockley on drums and Paige on keyboards. Only she hadn't just been one of the guys, had she?

Paige and he had formed 'One Simple Truth' together while they were studying music in college. They'd been good mates throughout the course, and it just seemed like a sensible progression, especially as they'd just started going out. Paige had a real natural beauty, and she'd come along at a time when he'd just started to notice the opposite sex. She could be a bit serious sometimes, though, which is why, initially, he left a lot of the song-writing to her. It wasn't that he couldn't do it, Dale could make up stuff on the spot if he had to, it was just that she seemed to come up with the most soulful tunes.

When they advertised on the bulletin board for more band members they'd had all kinds of responses — some genuine, some just time-wasters. But they'd really gelled with the long-haired Lockley and bearded Abbott, especially in the improvised jamming session the first time they all got together. Jesus, how he missed them! The first few live shows at local pubs had been the pits, however, and Dale had almost called it a day at one point. Paige persuaded him to go on, and to his surprise they started to develop a fan base — particularly amongst the college and uni crowd.

Then came bigger and better gigs, and soon the money they were getting paid made attending classes seem moot. They were making it anyway, practising what their tutors only preached. It wasn't long before a talent scout with an eye for the next big thing spotted them. They were signed to a small indie label, but that automatically meant bigger gigs, and supporting turns for artists much higher up the ladder. Local stations played a couple of their releases and they even found themselves being aired on BBC Radio.

By this time One Simple Truth — and specifically Dale — had attracted another following entirely. Girls would hang out at the stage doors after gigs just to try and get an autograph. Or a kiss. Paige said nothing because she knew, at the end of the day, he was still hers. But during the course of their journey, Dale discovered his own simple truth: he found it impossible to be tied down to just the one girl. He loved the adoration his — granted — limited amount of fame brought him. And, girl by girl, tour by tour, he gave in to temptation.

Paige had confronted him, of course, and he hadn't even bothered to deny it. "What can I say? I have a weakness," he'd told her. When she'd threatened to walk from the band, he'd tried to talk her out of it, telling her she'd be slitting her own throat as well. "You're going to hold this against me, when we could be as big as Oasis or U2?"

The decision was taken out of her hands, because that's when the virus had struck. Dale watched his fellow band members die from that terrible disease, while he remained healthy.

Paige had been the first to fall ill, collapsing after a gig one night. She'd been rushed to hospital for tests — back before anyone fully realised what they were dealing with. "Tell me," Paige had said to him from her bed as they'd waited for her parents to get there from miles away. "Tell me you still love me."

He clasped her hand, but said nothing.

"Please," she whispered.

Dale had been about to lie to her when suddenly she'd had a seizure, coughing up blood onto the bed sheets. The doctors and nurses rushed in, flitting around. There was nothing they could do. They whisked Dale outside, but he'd already seen the worst — and when they came and told him half an hour later that she was dead, he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He got drunk that night, asking himself what the hell was wrong with him. Why couldn't he have felt for Paige what she felt for him? Why couldn't he have committed to her when she was the one who'd been instrumental in getting them where they were?

His answer was to spend the night with some blonde girl he picked up in a hotel bar, someone who'd recognised him and he'd taken full advantage of the fact. He left early and hadn't seen her again. For all he knew she'd come down with the virus too, not long afterwards. Dale hadn't really paid it much mind.

He'd always been able to handle himself, a consequence of getting called a sissy for being interested in music growing up. The amount of fights he'd been in to show them, no, he wasn't actually a sissy at all and would happily rearrange their faces if that's what they really wanted… It had served him well after everything went to rack and ruin, and he'd had to defend himself from all kinds of dangers. He'd even stood up to gangs when he came across them, though sometimes came off the worst and crawled away to lick his wounds.

When he'd heard about what they were doing at Nottingham Castle, something seemed to click. It was a chance to be a part of a 'group' again, something that was being talked about and, yes, celebrated throughout the area. A major part of him knew he could do some good here, but how much of him wanted to join so he could be applauded again? So that he'd be sought after, not for his music this time, but because he could save the damsels in distress? If he could work his way up through the ranks, perhaps he would actually be a star once more?

Which brought him back to his dichotomy. Would keeping quiet about this hamper his relationship with Jack and Robert? Should he tell them about what he'd heard?

Not that Robert was here at the moment. He'd gone off with Mark, that little git who'd given him a bloody nose a couple of days ago. Dale realised that Mark would always be Robert's favourite — he'd heard the tales from the others about how the kid had been taken to the castle and tortured, then nearly hanged by the former sheriff. He was like a son to Robert, Dale got that. He also got that he himself was kind of a replacement for someone called Granger who'd been part of the final battle. Jack and Tate often remarked how much Dale reminded them of the guy, who'd given his life so that they could take the Castle. It was more than a bit annoying at times.

From his usual perch on the steps, Dale spotted Sophie walking through the grounds with Mary. Sophie. Now she was a prize worth possessing, a girl he thought he might be able to love. If Dale could actually figure out what love was. She'd shown more than an interest in him, that much was certain — but when push came to shove she'd always shoved him away. "Dale, don't," she'd said when he'd tried to kiss her the last time.

What was the reason? Was it Mark? The kid had feelings for Sophie, any fool could see that. But Dale had always assumed she wanted a real man, or at least someone old enough to vote and drink — not that laws about that stuff meant anything in this world.

The fact that Sophie was giving him the run around when all he wanted was… to show her how much she meant to him suggested that she must have feelings for someone else. What right did he have to interfere with that? If he hadn't been able to love Paige, then perhaps he couldn't love anyone, even Sophie.

Dale shook his head, this wasn't what he should be thinking about at the moment. The discontentment and the griping of the men; and whether he should talk to-

"Jack!" he was shouting to the large man before he realised he was doing it. "Hey Jack!" Now he was getting up and waving, grabbing his guitar and dashing down the steps to catch Jack as he came out of a side door of the castle.

"Hey Dale," replied his superior. As always, he had his staff resting over his shoulder. "You haven't seen Adele on your travels, have you?"

Dale told him he hadn't. And though he couldn't help it, a picture of that woman now flashed into his mind: her short, black hair, full lips. How he wished he'd been the one to save her that night in York rather than Robert.

Stop it, can't you see Jack fancies her?You just can't help yourself, can you?

"Not to worry," Jack said. Dale could tell he had more on his mind than where Adele was.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Hmmm? Yeah. Well, no, not really. Did you want something?"

Dale thought about whether this was the right time, about whether he should even be speaking to Jack rather than Robert, but the words were escaping before he could contain them. "It's the men."

Jack turned to him. "What about them?"

"They're… I don't know how to say this."

"Just spit it out."

"They're overstretched, tired. They're beginning to moan about the workload, about patrols, about the last time they had any time off."

"Time off?" Jack said it like the concept was completely alien. "This isn't a damned holiday camp."

Dale held up his hands, his guitar flying out sideways. "I know that, and they do too. But, look, with this new thing — the cult — they've been run ragged trying to fight them. They're only human."

Jack gave a reluctant nod. "I understand. I just don't know what we can do about it. Maybe when we've got on top of this-"

"I don't know if you've got that long."

Jack sighed. "If you only knew." His face betrayed him. Dale could see he knew something else he wasn't passing on… or the troops.

"What? Tell me." He didn't really have the right to demand any kind of information, but was hoping Jack might tell him anyway.

"I'd rather wait until… Robert!"

Dale followed Jack's gaze down to the gate, where Robert and Mark had appeared on horseback, returning from their visit to Sherwood.

Jack made his way briskly down to the riders, Dale not far behind. He ignored the glare from Mark, using Robert's second as a justification to be there.

"Robbie, I'm so glad that you're back," shouted the big man.

"So am I. In some ways," Robert said, then looked over at Mark. Dale realised that more than training had occurred in Sherwood. More secrets he wasn't yet privy to.

"I've got something to tell you," Jack said, walking up to the horse and stroking it. "But maybe it should be someplace more private, y'know?"

"Could I just say something first?" Dale cut in.

"No," answered Mark without hesitation.

Robert gave the boy a severe look, then turned to Dale: "What is it?"

He studied them each in turn. "I know something's kicking off here. I just thought you ought to be aware that you could have some walkouts on your hands if you're not careful."

"Dale was just telling me that the men aren't too happy."

"Is that so?" Robert said, as he dismounted.

"I don't want to go behind anyone's back or anything, just thought you needed to know the score." Dale told him.

"To be fair, they are being stretched a bit thin, Robbie. Possibly even thinner soon."

That was another slip, and now Dale was desperate to know what Jack had discovered. If they were about to face something else on top of the Morningstars, then he and the others had a right to know. They were the ones putting their lives on the line.

"Okay, Dale," said Robert finally, "we'll sort this out later." Then before he could say anything else, the man in charge added: "I promise. Right now I need to speak with Jack, probably as much as he does with me." Robert turned to his right hand man. "Fetch Tate and Mary, too. If you're about to tell me what I think you are, they should hear this as well."

Dale watched as Mark got off his horse, and the three of them made their way back up the path. Things hadn't quite gone as he'd expected them to. In spite of jeopardising his standing in the ranks by telling Jack and Robert about the unrest, Dale still wasn't part of that inner circle. He'd been noticed by the talent-spotters, but not signed to a label yet. What made it worse was that Mark was turning as the group led the horses away, looking over his shoulder and glaring at Dale again. He was automatically included in the talks, as one of the core band that had come here. Could Dale's hard work all fall apart again because of a girl? Because of his messing about with Sophie, and Mark's feelings about that?

But Robert had promised to talk to him later, so he'd no doubt find out what was going on then. Better late than not at all.

Dale sat down on a bench and began to strum his guitar. One day when stories were written and songs sung about their exploits, Dale still intended to feature prominently.

They gathered in one of the rooms inside the castle: Robert, Mark, Tate, Mary and Jack. All the original members of Robert's team, barring one, but it wasn't long before he was mentioned.

"This afternoon we received a radio message from Bill," Jack told them. He'd kept up with his CB interests after moving to the castle, as a way of keeping in touch with places beyond Nottingham. "Actually, it wasn't from Bill himself, it was from one of his… I dunno what you'd call 'em, staff?"

Robert shrugged his shoulders. Bill was a bit of a sore point with him.

"Anyhow, turns out there's a force that's hit the coastline up near Whitby, Scarborough, Bridlington. They used hovercraft to get their vehicles ashore: tanks, jeeps, the whole deal. And they've been striking villages and towns as they make their way inland. Bill's been monitoring the situation through his network of markets, getting to places that have been struck and offering help. Otherwise I think he would have come here in person to warn us."

"I know," said Robert simply, and Jack, Tate and Mary all looked at him. "About the army, I mean."

"Me too," added Mark, and they switched their focus to him.

"How?" asked Jack. "I only got the call a couple of hours ago, and you've been off in the forest."

Robert looked at Tate, who blinked his understanding. "I think you've just answered your own question, Jack," the Reverend said, though the American looked none the wiser. "They were in Sherwood."

"The man in charge is Russian, I think," continued Robert.

"I'll be God-damned," Jack said, blowing out a breath. "The radio message mentioned Russian troops."

"There's another thing." Robert walked around the room; Mark was biting his lip in anticipation of what was about to be said. "Tanek's with them."

"What?" said Tate, having to rest on his stick.

"It's true, Reverend. Robbie's three for three. That was also part of the warning."

All the colour had drained from Tate's face. "Dear Lord. And they're making their way here… this force?"

"Seems like," said Jack.

"If Tanek's involved, he'll probably be out for revenge," Robert said.

"I need to warn Gwen," Tate suddenly announced. "He'll be coming for her without a doubt. She should be brought to the castle, don't you think? Her and Clive Jr?"

"If she'll come." Robert said.

"This is all we need on top of the cult," Jack said. "And if the men really are thinking about quitting-"

"What?" Tate virtually shrieked this. "They… they can't. We need them, now more than ever."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Robert said. "We can't afford to lose a single fighter at the moment."

"Give 'em one of your patented speeches. Do the whole Braveheart bit," Jack suggested with a half smile, but there was little humour in his voice.

"The other thing is, we were attacked by members of the cult while we were in Sherwood. It was co-ordinated, intended to put me out of the picture." His eyes flitted across, searching for some kind of reaction from Mary, but there was none. She hadn't spoken, had barely been able to look at him since they'd all entered the room.

"You've rattled their cage," Tate said.

Robert ignored this and dwelt on Mary. "You've been very quiet, don't you have anything to say to all this?"

Mary looked him in the eye then, before speaking. "What's the point? You were in danger again in Sherwood. I know what you're going to do now about the army heading our way. It doesn't matter what I have to say, does it? You'll do what you have to do."

"Of course it matters, Mary," said Mark after a few moments, speaking for Robert because it didn't look like he was going to.

"I hate to say it, but the little lady's right — we are going to have to do what's necessary," Jack said.

"We're going to have to meet the army before it gets here," Robert stated. "We have to protect the people."

Mary nodded, then left the room.

Mark looked from the open door to Robert, his eyes begging the man to go after her, to fix this somehow. But both of them knew there was nothing Robert could say. Just as he'd been willing to sacrifice himself to save the villagers De Falaise was going to hang, now he was going to have to place himself between these new invaders and those who counted on him to protect them.

"Jack, call Dale. I need to sound him out about what's happening with the troops. I can't afford for them to turn tail."

"But Robert," Mark began. "Dale is-"

"Your personal feelings about him don't come into this," Robert interrupted, and Tate and Jack both stared. "I'm sorry," Robert said more softly. "He's one of our best, and he's very popular. If they won't listen to me, they might to him."

"He's popular all right," Mark said.

As the meeting broke up, each of them left except Robert. He walked over to the far wall and banged his fist against it in frustration.

What's the matter? You got what you wanted, didn't you? To be out there again, in action, in combat.

But even he wasn't sure whether he could win this time against such odds.

And he was frightened that even if he did, he might have already lost the one thing that meant more to him than any of that.

Robert left the room and searched the corridor for any sign of Mary. He caught a flash of a female figure and got his hopes up, decided that he would go and talk to her — try and explain himself.

Except as the woman moved into view, he saw it was Adele. She smiled at him, but he didn't smile back.

Robert continued on his way to the stairs. A man with a mission.

No, more than that. As he was constantly being reminded, he was a man with a destiny. One he could no more control than he could his love life.