Arthur Hood: the Heir of Robin and King

Chapter Twenty-Five

Arthur jolted awake to the scent of a cat.

'Fury?' he breathed in a whisper as looked around the train car.

Nothing.

Strange, he thought, before glancing over at a sleeping Little Johnny, the Shoes of Swiftness tucked under his bunk. He then gazed at Merlynna's and saw that it was unoccupied.

'Merlynna?' he snapped as he sat up in a rush, his backpack still strapped to his shoulders, but like Fury, there was no sign of the young witch.

Arthur jumped out of bed and flushed with panic. But right before he was about to wake Little Johnny, he heard faint voices, a conversation, coming from outside. One belonged to Merlynna, but the other, he didn't recognize.

Despite not knowing who the young witch was talking to, there was no menace or fright in their tones. Relief washed over Arthur and he decided to see what Merlynna was up to.

Out from the train car, he began following the voices. And down he went through the trees, but as he neared the forest floor, he heard a loud whomp. Panic washed over Arthur again and he raced the remainder of the way, dropping right beside a lit well and finding a tiny ripple in its water.

'Merlynna?' he snapped at the darkness around him. 'Where are you?'

There was no answer nor a response from the other voice either. But Arthur did hear something, a whizzing noise zipping through the air and it was getting louder.

Was it Fury? A flying broomstick? A fairy even?

Arthur stepped back from the well, about to flee back up into the trees if necessary, when the sound suddenly whistled down his ears before a loud thwack rang out below. He dropped his stare and saw an arrow sticking out from the ground. And it was no ordinary arrow. It was silver.

Gasping in shock, Arthur swiveled around to find the culprit who had shot it but saw nothing. He heard nothing more either. He then dropped his stare again, where he noticed that Robin's feathers were flapping around madly inside his backpack.

Why were they doing that, he asked himself, before quickly speculating if there was a connection between them and the arrow. Could it have been Robin Hood's?

Arthur felt like he should go and wake Little Johnny, but he just couldn't take his eyes off of the arrow. He was drawn to it like he was drawn to King Arthur's crown. He wanted to touch it.

He bent down to rip it out from the ground, but before he had a chance to grab hold, the projectile sprang into the air all by itself, turned like a wind vane and took off.

'Wait!' Arthur bellowed. He grabbed the light above the well and went after it.

Beyond the train in the trees he raced after the silhouetted arrow above him, dodging trap after trap that had been set to keep them safe from the ogre. And as he traversed tree roots the size and length of the biggest of snakes, Arthur wondered if it wanted to show him something.

Was it leading him to Merlynna? Was she in danger? Or maybe it was leading him to the Lady of the Lake?

Wherever it was going, Robin's feathers were acting up even more. And so much that they were hitting King Arthur's crown and causing it to whine like some distant jet engine.

Eventually, and after Arthur felt like he was going to collapse with exhaustion, he came to a brook that appeared to gurgle. And on the other side, the forest seemed to darken into a pitch black abyss. But without hesitation, and as the silver arrow shot into the lightless realm before him, he waded through the water. Little did he know, he was crossing the Babbling Brook, the border to the Wild Children's territory.

Once Arthur's feet were on the opposite side, he lifted the lamp as high as he could and entered into the shadowy giant timbers. And it wasn't long before the creepy and slithering sounds of critters wretched his insides.

Fright was quick to comfort him, making him shake and shiver, and his thoughts soon turned to the ogre. He was just waiting for the monster to jump out and claw at his face. It was now that he started to regret following the arrow, of which he could barely see anymore through the dim and overgrowth.

After only several more steps, Arthur stopped and pondered if he should head back to the train in the trees. However, as he turned to figure out where he had come from, all he saw was a wall of aping gloom.

He was lost.

Yet things were about to get worse, for suddenly, the sound of a crunching twig made Arthur cower to the ground. And as he fumbled with fear to extinguish the lamp, more and more biting noises came.

Time to run, Arthur thought, and despite not being able to see in front of him, he did.

Branches and leaves soon whipped at his face, scratching and gouging, and rocks and stumps made him stumble. But he kept on his feet. His heart raced and his breathing rumbled. And that's all he heard until he felt himself trip over something, setting off a violent clatter of what sounded like menacing wind chimes.

'Intruder!' a young voice yelled, and Arthur knew right then where he was.

Scrambling to his feet, he took off again, but in the blink of an eye, he tripped over something else and was launched into the air. And when the soaring stopped with an abrupt jerk, he found himself dangling by his leg, a rope wrapped around his ankle.

Arthur wanted to scream for help but he didn't want to give himself away. He should have, though, for a familiar voice growled below.

'Gotcha,' the boy with the bowler hat said, and in an instant, dozens of flaming torches flooded the forest floor, each one held by a wild child.

Arthur gulped at the sight, at the wicked smirks on each of the painted faces.

'What were they going to do to him?' he said to himself, as he swayed back and forth, blood rushing to his head. Then desperate, not even thinking about how high he was, he tried wriggling free.

'You can't escape,' the boy with the bowler hat cackled, setting off the other Wild Children into hysterics. 'You'll be coming with us.'

'Good,' Arthur replied sternly, not wanting to show any fear. 'And when I do, you will give me back the things you took from me and then you'll let me go.'

The forest erupted with more chuckling.

'You are in no position to dictate anything,' the boy with the bowler hat snapped.

Arthur didn't want to do it but there was only one thing he could do now and that was to threaten his captors with who he was.

'You'll be sorry if you don't do as I say,' he bellowed. 'I may look like an easy target to bullies like you but I am the descendant of two of the greatest legends, one of which this forest was named after.'

Arthur honestly thought that the Wild Children would all keel over and die crying of laughter this time but the boy with the bowler hat was about to say something that would completely shock him.

'We know who you are,' he spat. 'Mother and father thought as such. And they're really looking forward to meeting you.'

How? How was it possible that they knew? And who were their mother and father? Esme had never mentioned that the Wild Children had parents.

Just then, the familiar whizzing noise pierced the darkness above.

Arthur had completely forgotten about the arrow. And as he craned his neck, he saw it dip down, skirting the dome of light from the torches, and towards a dark figure looming in the shadows of two trees.

'Yes,' the figure then growled menacingly. It was a man. 'The outlaw's blood courses through this child's body. I can smell its foul stench.'

'Do you want us to get him down?' the boy with the bowler hat asked.

'No need for that. I'll do it.'

Suddenly, the silver arrow changed directions and charged towards Arthur.