Arrowland by Paul Kane Page A

wrong.
    It had started with the dreams. It sounded crazy, but he'd accepted that the forest was giving them to him. They hadn't begun until he'd moved to Sherwood. Then he'd moved out of the forest and into the castle to run the Rangers, and the dreams had deserted him for a spell - which had almost cost all their lives. The forest had also - and this sounded even crazier when he thought about it - healed him at least a couple of times, even brought him back from the brink of death.
    He'd come to realise that he needed to return there every now and again, to recharge. His excuse was the trips he took young Mark on to teach him hunting skills, but wasn't the lad starting to feel the forest, as well? He'd certainly spoken to Robert about strange dreams he'd had while he'd been there.
    More and more, though, over the last year especially, Robert had come to understand that he always carried a part of that special place with him wherever he went.
    In fact, that was literally true these days, because he'd struck upon the idea of making himself a little reminder of home. His true, spiritual home. In the pouch he wore on his belt were twigs, earth, stones, grass, bark and leaves he'd gathered from Sherwood - and copying him in all things, Mark had insisted on making one as well. When travelling or on a mission, and in times of great stress, he'd find himself clutching the bag unconsciously. It eased his mind. And while he'd been carrying it, the dreams had never deserted him again.
    Until now.
    It had happened last night while he slept, out under the stars with Mary beside him. He'd refused the offer of staying at a hotel Bill had commandeered for himself and the rest of the Rangers. Instead, Robert and Mary had found a local park and bedded down there; she was more used to sleeping outdoors now since the Christmas surprise he'd given her of a night out in Sherwood. So, falling asleep with the pouch in his hand, it hadn't taken long for the dreams to visit Robert.
    His eyes opened and at first he'd thought he was still in the park. But the sheer mass of trees and greenery soon told him otherwise. It had to be the dreamscape, and it had to be Sherwood. He was walking through familiar surroundings, enjoying being back once again, when there was a disturbance in the trees up ahead. At first he thought it was some kind of animal, but when the trees themselves began falling he realised it was something much bigger. Flashes of red appeared between the trunks, then the trees directly in front of him parted.
    And he saw a monster.
    It looked like a dinosaur, but was nothing so mundane. Robert recognised it from the tales of swords and sorcery he'd read as a kid. It was a dragon, its scaly crimson hide tough and impenetrable. And it was huge: as tall as the trees in Sherwood.
    It breathed out fire, cooking the trees, burning the leaves off branches.
    But this wasn't the only monster in Sherwood. Another parting of the trees and on Robert's right was a giant black spider, its multitude of eyes bulbous and glassy, regarding him with both hatred and longing. The dragon saw the spider and roared; the arachnid, for its part, made a series of clicking noises and weird shrills. Somehow Robert instinctively knew it was female, and although he was no expert he would have bet his life on the fact that the species was a Black Widow.
    These were the opponents he and his men were facing at the moment, or at least that's what they represented. Gaining power, becoming bigger and stronger, they would take over soon unless something was done to stop them. No sooner had he thought this than Robert's Rangers flooded the scene, firing arrows at the two behemoths and swinging their swords. Robert looked on as the Dragon crushed a couple of his Rangers underfoot, while the Widow stopped others in their tracks by spinning a web around them they couldn't break. She then turned on one poor soul and began to eat him, starting with the head. Robert winced at the sight,