Enough, Marian thought, and let the arrow fly without pausing to think. For a moment, she was herself again, and the arrow flew true. Instead of thudding harmlessly into the ground, this one whistled through the air and pinned the hat from a crossbowman’s head to a tree a few paces away, making the man drop to his knees in surprise. Three of the horses reared, and one bolted, sending the rest milling about in confusion and fear.
Alan could not have missed that signal. Her eyes found a rustling of the canopy nearly opposite her around the clearing. Seconds later, a rain of acorns and branches sent those few of Gisborne’s men who hadn’t started running after their horses in pursuit of shadows. Alan abandoned stealth entirely, his path easily visible in the quivering branches and crashing leaves. When there was no ready branch for him ahead, he dropped to the ground and took off on foot.
Gisborne was already moving, shouting for a few of the men to stay with John. His horse had not bolted, but instead of making for the beast, he was sprinting after Alan. Marian’s breath stuck in horror. They’d anticipated that, crippled as he was, he’d go for his horse. And over a short distance, mounting and getting up to speed would waste the valuable seconds that Alan needed to reach the spot he planned to hide. With Gisborne on his heels, he wouldn’t be able to hide at all—he’d have to keep running.
Marian drew the bow, arrow at her cheek, eyes fixed on the black figure. She could prevent him from reaching Alan, or Little John, or anyone ever again.
What are you doing?
This time, Robin’s voice in her head wasn’t laughing.
Marian’s eyes widened and then she blinked, muscles freezing. Slowly, achingly slowly, she let the force of the taut bowstring draw her arm forward, her fingers still gripping the base of the nocked arrow. Her knuckles were white by the time she trusted herself to let go without shooting.
She’d been about to kill a man.
A pained yelp from below wedged its way past her horror. She looked down to see that one of the milling horses had knocked down one of Gisborne’s remaining men. There were four of them—more than Marian had hoped, but not more than she’d feared.
She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the sight of her arrow trained on Gisborne’s back, and made her way silently down the tree.
The rest was laughably easy. While Alan sprinted and sweated and, for all Marian knew, fought, she had only to sneak up behind the smallest of the four remaining men and catch him in a stranglehold, her dagger at his throat.
Marian whispered in her hostage’s ear, and in a shaking voice, he ordered the others to drop their weapons. Marian was shaking too, waiting to see if they’d call her bluff, watching the other three men size her up.
Sweat had loosened the knot fixing the mask around her head, and she realized that the sun was on her brow. Her hood had fallen backward—only Alan’s mask had saved her from exposure. The grip of the dagger felt slick in her palm.
Then one of the men, a stout, bearded fellow with a hard mouth, slowly stooped and laid his sword down in the leaves. Marian’s vision swam as the other two did the same. She inhaled shakily and whispered her next command.
“Un-untie the prisoner,” her hostage quavered.
His comrades glanced at one another, and the bearded one eventually nodded, and they went to remove the bindings from Little John. Marian was half-afraid he’d emerge from captivity swinging, and that the resulting melee would break the tentative command she held, but he moved carefully once his hands were free, watching Marian with an unreadable expression.
“Tie them up,” said her hostage, on her order in his ear. His fear was turning to chagrin, and when John had finished binding the other guards, he shot her a furious look as the big man led him off to join his fellows.
Marian waited until John had nearly finished with the last man’s bonds, then slipped away, moving quietly until she’d put enough distance between them to break into a run. The longer she spent with Alan and John, especially in daylight, the greater the chance she’d be found out as a woman. And after that revelation sank in, it wouldn’t be hard for them to realize which woman she was.