Page 2 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

There’s no time for Henry to duck to avoid the sack of coins that comes swinging at his head. He flinches just enough to avoid a direct hit to the face, but it still slams into the side of his head with a force that knocks him to the ground, my arrow falling out of his grip.

John circles back on his horse, extending his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up so that I land on the horse behind him.

“You were supposed to split up!” I shout at him as we ride away from the Sheriff.

“You know I could never leave you behind, Robin. Besides, it looks like I got there just in time.”

I can’t deny that.

I’m pretty sure the Sheriff was about to get the thing he’s wanted most for the past two years. I shouldn’t be ungrateful I was able to disappoint him yet again.

When he spots my horse up ahead, John asks, “That’s yours, isn’t it?”

“It is now.”

I might’ve already grown a bit attached to the beautiful mare, and if I have the chance to keep her, I will.

John directs his horse toward mine, and I bring my feet up under me, crouching behind him with a steadying hand on his shoulder.

His horse gallops up beside mine, and I launch myself off its back, landing right in the saddle on top of my horse.

I squeeze my legs around her until my speed matches John’s, and we’re riding away, heading back toward the west to meet up with the others.

At least until we hear another joining us.

We both peer back to see the Sheriff pushing his midnight black horse harder than before, shaking the reins as blood drips down his temple, his face red and angry as he hunts us.

“He sure is persistent!” John yells, annoyed.

My responding grin is the most genuine it’s been today. “He always has been.”

It wouldn’t be much fun if he wasn’t.

God, I’ll miss this.

We don’t slow down, riding harder, faster. We aim for the denser trees with the goal of losing our shadow. He’s not used to the forest like we are. Our path manages to slow him down, but he’s still hot on our trail.

Then our horses skid to a halt.

There’s no sign as to why, but something has clearly spooked them. They neigh and snort, jerking their heads as their manes sway back and forth. Their front hooves come off the ground, kicking up dirt and forcing us to hold on tight.

Peering ahead, I spot… something .

I can’t quite make it out other than it’s a dark form between the trees.

The longer I squint into the distance, the more it takes shape.

A silhouette. A cloaked, hooded body. It stands several yards away.

Still. Unmoving. Only its long robe—the green fabric so dark it’s almost black—flowing around and dusting the ground in yet another breeze.

This one is stronger, the wind picking up leaves and twigs until it’s all swirling around our horses’ legs like a tornado of debris.

And then the forest seems to shift.

The gust blows through the branches until the entire trees appear to move. The ground below pulses with a kind of mystical energy, visible waves of it rippling across the earth. The sky above begins to dim, daylight fading speck by speck like stars blinking out of existence.

The sky turns black.

Real stars explode across the heavens.

Everything goes quiet. Calm. Still. The wind has died, and even the horses have settled.

Day has turned to night.

The only thing that hasn’t calmed is my racing heart. Blood rushes in my ears as I try to make sense of what just happened. The mysterious figure is gone. The trees look different somehow. The stars glitter against the velvety night sky that was bright with daylight moments before.

John and I share a look, and I can tell he’s as lost and confused as I am.

With the deafening hush that’s suddenly fallen over the forest, the thudding of hooves slices through like a knife. Even so, it’s not enough to snap me out of this bewilderment that’s shocked my system.

“Robin! We have to ride!”

Finally, I snap my head around to see the Sheriff once more on the chase.

Apparently, he’s recovered quicker than we have.

We don’t have a choice but to focus on getting away first. As soon as we lose him for good, then we can worry about what the hell that was.

But that doesn’t happen.

The trees break much sooner than they should.

The edge of Sherwood Forest is miles away, so it makes no sense when we come out the other side to an open field and open skies stretching far ahead—to what seems like the ends of the earth.

The full moon shines bright like a brilliant beacon in the sky, giving the expanse of grassy ground a silver hue.

It’s all wrong .

However, we keep riding because the Sheriff is right behind us, too close.

So close that when we have to suddenly pull on the reins to stop our horses, his nearly crashes into us, and we barely manage not to go over the sudden drop ahead.

It’s not technically a cliff, but the hill down is rocky and steep, too steep for the horses.

But that’s not what has us all freezing and going silent, forgetting all about the chase and everything that brought us to this moment. To this sight that I don’t think any of us can explain.

Far below in the distance is a city that’s ablaze with lights.

Not like the flickering glow of flames, but instead steady beams of yellow.

Some of them even move, gliding smoothly through all the others like constant fireflies.

It’s not the size of the city that’s unlike any we’ve ever seen—maybe twice that of Nottingham.

It’s the lights, the size of the strange buildings we can sort of make out beneath the glow of the moon.

It’s worlds apart from anything we know.

The chase that had seemed so intense and loud moments before has vanished in the wake of confusion and a suffocating quiet.

Even with the Sheriff on his horse right beside us, we’re all too shocked to acknowledge each other’s presence.

A heavy silence has settled over us as we stare down at the mysterious city until even time doesn’t make sense.

I have no idea how much passes before one of us finds our voice.

“What on God’s earth—”

Henry’s words are cut off when John jumps into action, swinging the bag of silver and gold through the air, hitting the Sheriff in the head for the second time.

Henry grunts as he falls off his horse, having had even less warning to defend himself this time.

He collapses in a heap on the ground, eyes closed, unconscious.

John pulls his sword from its scabbard.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my brain feeling sluggish, stuffed full with more questions than I’ve ever had before.

“We should kill him.”

I peer down at Henry’s still form. Something about that just doesn’t feel right. Not only do I not like the idea of killing an unconscious man, but…in this strange place?

“We can’t kill him, John. We don’t even know what the hell is going on.”

“I think that’s a mistake, Robin.”

I look from John to Henry again and sigh. “Then it’s a mistake.”

John huffs as he puts his sword away. “Fine. But we need to get out of here.”

As we ride away, leaving the Sheriff behind, there’s one question that’s loudest in my mind.

Where is here ?