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crossoverficTitle: Just Another Ordinary Day in Sherwood
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
morgynleri_fic and sparrows_lady
Fandoms: Robin Hood and Highlander
Rating: PG13
Warnings: violence
Pairings: Guy/OFC
Character(s): Sir Guy of Gisbourne, Methos/Adam Pierson, Duncan MacLeod, Mordre ferch Gywddion/Victoria Arthur, Makenzie Sudworth, Alexandra Sloane
Summary: Sir Guy of Gisbourne goes out to retrieve some personal items stolen by a witch, and ends up in the 21st century, where his manor is now owned by the world's oldest Immortal.
Notes: Set after the first season of Robin Hood, and after the entire series of Highlander, and mostly ignoring Endgame at the moment.
Just Another Ordinary Day in Sherwood
Prologue
Mordre hummed quietly under her breath as she paced the circle, lighting the candles set at each of the four points. Each cast a small circle of light that danced across the items stolen from Sir Guy. Personal items that would help to attract the essence of the perfect woman for him.
Standing to the north, she raised her hands, tilting her head back to look up at the night sky, her voice rising in a chanted spell, in a language that had not been heard this far north, a plea to the gods to grant her desire. To bring forth in the circle the woman who would suit well the man whose belongings lay at the edge.
~ ~~ ~
Sir Guy of Gisbourne was furious and he rode full tilt into the darkness of Sherwood. Marian had betrayed him. Robin Hood wanted him dead. And of course there was the dear Sheriff who stabbed everyone in the back. To add insult to injury, that woman, that... witch, had the nerve to steal into Locksley Manor and abscond with items precious and dear. He would have never learned who had done it if not for the fear of retribution from the peasants of the village.
He wasn't sure how deep into the forest he had rode, but he saw the glow of candles up ahead and pressed his horse on. His eyes narrowed, fury on his face, Guy entered the small glade, pulling back hard on the reins. "You!" He pulled his sword, his horse dancing as he gazed at the items. His items. He pointed the sword at Mordre. "Do you know what the penalty for theft is?" he bellowed.
"Sir Guy!" Mordre backed away, staring across the circle at the man she had planned to help. "I... I was going to bring them back. I swear, on that's holy, I would have brought them back in the morning." She took a deep breath, holding out one hand, the one she'd just slashed open to offer her blood to finish the summoning. "I wanted to help you. Please... please..."
Guy stared at her, watching the blood slowly slide down her wrist. The horse danced into the edge of the circle. "What were you helping me with, witch? Helping me lighten my load in case I have to move out of Locksley Manor again?" His rage was formidable and after the last few weeks, he no longer had the strength to rein it in. "I am tired of your meddling." He raised his sword and kicked the horses' flanks, stepping full into the circle.
"No!" Mordre's eyes widened, and she reached both hands for Guy, trying to pull the spell back as it swirled around him, lighting the clearing as brightly as daylight for a moment. When the light faded, circle, candles, man, and horse had vanished, leaving Mordre alone in the dark.
"Christ's blood." Mordre sat down on the ground, running her uncut hand through her hair, staring at the circle with dismay. "I just handed bloody Robin Hood a victory on a silver platter," she muttered to herself. "And once that blasted sheriff finds out what I've done, I'll be lucky to keep my head on my shoulders. I hate moving."
~ ~~ ~ ~~ ~
Chapter 1
Alexandra Sloane had just dumped a bucket of dirty water out of the house and stared at the far field. She was done for the day and was so tempted to go riding. Her employer, Adam Pierson, wouldn't be back for at least a few more hours and she really didn't want to sit alone in the small cottage at the edge of his property line. She ran her fingers through her short wavy brown hair and went back inside to clean up the last of the supplies.
Within an hour, she was done, the house locked up, and the horse she had decided to ride saddled and beneath her. The afternoon had turned sunny and unusually warm for the English countryside, which made riding even more enjoyable. She slowed the horse into a trot and weaved her way through the woods, listening to the birds singing in the trees above her. She would stop at the clearing and water the horse before turning back towards home and dinner. She loosely held the reins, taking in the beauty of the forest as she entered the clearing.
Alex dismounted and led the horse to the stream. Something caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise and she listened. The forest had grown quiet.
Too quiet.
She turned just as the ground shook and lightning struck the ground in the middle of the clearing, losing the horses's reins as it shied and bucked at the sudden disturbance. She was thrown to the ground, her back scraping against a tree and she somehow managed to avoid getting trampled on by horse's hooves. She thought it was her horse until she came face to face with a very wicked looking and sharp blade pointed at her throat. She followed the line of the sword up to a black gloved hand and then higher to a set of vivid eyes staring down at her.
Guy kept the point of his sword to the throat of the woman who pressed against a tree at the edge of the clearing. The clearing itself looked as he remembered, but the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. There was something very different here, and he knew the witch had something to do with it.
"Where is the witch, and what has she done with me?" He held the woman's gaze, silently demanding an answer.
Alex leaned back slightly so she could swallow. "I'm the only person here," she answered as she stared at him. His clothing was from another time. Hell, his sword was definitely from another time. "I have no idea who or what you're talking about." She remained as still as she could. "Are you lost? Are you part of some Ren Faire reanctment?" she inquired.
She had to admit he was quite handsome. But she would've remembered seeing him in the pub if he was local. "Can I...uh..get up? This isn't exactly a comfortable position with this rock sticking me in the back."
Guy's brows furrowed at her words. "I do not know what this Ren Faire you speak of is, but I have no part in it." He nodded when she requested to get up, pulling his sword back enough to allow her to stand, but not returning it to the sheath at his hip. "The witch Mordre, where is she? I've a score to settle with her, and you would do well to direct me to where she has fled."
Alex held up her hands in a 'T'. "Time out. Hold on a sec. I don't know a witch named Mordre. I've only been around these parts a few months myself." She pointed back towards the house. "I live in a cottage about five miles from here. If you just chill out, we can go there and I can see if I can help you find her."
And maybe get you naked and in the sack, she thought to herself.
"Do you have a name? I'm Alex. Alex Sloane."
"You don't know who I am?" Guy tightened his grip on his sword, a chill going down his spine. Her words had not entirely made sense, but her asking for his name made his concern that the witch had intended him harm even greater. "How can you live near to Locksley Manor, and not know who I am?"
Alex stared at him and smiled. "Locksley Manor? It hasn't been called that since...hell, at least 1560." She tilted her head as she gazed at him, her smile fading slightly. He was dressed like he had come from the late 1100's. He referred to Adam's historic home as Locksley Manor and they were standing at the edge of Sherwood. She blinked for a moment, her brow furrowing. "You said a witch was involved."
"Yes." He glowered at her.
Alex chewed her lower lip for a moment.
There had been lightning on a clear, sunny day. The ground rumbled and shook like an earthquake which England didn't have.
"Oh boy. You could be one of two people and if you are who I think you are and you can prove it, you're way out of your time," she said quietly.
"Prove who I am?" Guy's lip curled up slightly. "I am Sir Guy of Gisbourne, and I do not need to prove to some commoner who I am." He returned his sword to its sheath, nudging his horse with his knees, moving close enought to the woman to reach down and grab her arm. "You will tell me where the witch is, or I will turn you over to the sheriff, and he is not as kind as I. You will hang in the witch's place if you continue to protect her."
Alex was not one to be manhandled. God only knew, Adam had painstakingly taken the time to teach her how to defend herself when she first arrived there and was mugged before she even made it to his doorstep. She gazed up at the man, though, in shock, every self-defense technique flying right out of her head. "Sir Guy of Gisbourne? Well, at least I got the better looking of the two," she laughed nervously. "It's always the bad boys."
She sighed and tried to pry his fingers from her arm. "You aren't going...to find...this witch," she stated through clenched teeth as she worked his hand. "You are in the year of our Lord 2007. She is long gone and by some really bizarre twist of fate, you landed on my doorstep."
"Two thousand and seven?" Guy stared at her, his grip tightening. "How is this possible?" He shook her slightly. "And who else could I have been that you call me a 'bad boy'?"
"The Sheriff. You know, mister backstabbing, let's revolt against the king?" She stopped struggling, exhaling. "Look, I'm assuming your little witch buddy somehow tossed you into the future." She gazed up at him. "And that's assuming your not some pyscho from the local looney bin playing Robin Hood." She jerked her arm. "And you are bruising my arm. If you want my help, whoever you may be, let go. It's gonna be dark and I'd like to get home while I can still see."
"Robin Hood is nothing more than a common outlaw." Guy sneered as he pushed her slightly away from him. He wondered why she thought he might be the sheriff for a long moment before shaking the thought off. "What has become of Locksley Manor?" He looked down at her again, manuevering his horse to keep between her and the other steed in the clearing until he got an answer.
"Well, I won't be telling you how you wound up in the story," she breathed. "Locksley Manor is a private home. The village of Locksley is a tourist attraction as is the forest. My boss owns Locksley now. Look, it's getting dark, I'm getting cold and there's a storm moving in. Please."
"Your boss? What is that?" Guy shifted the horse again when she tried to get around to her steed. "And who is he?"
"My employer. Adam Pierson and the owner of Locksley Manor," she snapped. She ducked beneath his horse's neck and headed towards her own steed, mumbling something about annoying 12th century lords and the damn haunted forest. "I am heading home," she stated as she swung up into the saddle. "You want me, come and get me." She snapped the reins once and took off in a gallop.
Guy stared after her as she rode off, before nudging his horse after her, shaking his head at the tale she had told him. "Two thousand and seven, indeed." He snorted, pushing the horse to go a bit faster as the wind picked up, already making plans for what he intended to do with the witch when he caught her. She would regret trying to make a fool of him.
He rode out of the forest, and hauled his horse to a halt, staring at the building in front of him. It didn't look as he remembered it, though he could see the familiar building structure beneath the strange additions. He carefully dismounted his horse, kneeling next to a strange path of black, touching it with gloved fingers. It was hard, like stone, but the pattern of it looked more like gravel bound together with some unfamiliar potion, perhaps.
Standing once more, he stepped gingerly onto the surface, testing it before leading his horse onto it, and up towards the house he had called home. A gate barred his way through the arch into the inner courtyard, and he tested it, judging its strength. The lock was worked into the gate itself, and the bars were iron, as well as he could judge. At least this was something he could recognize the workmanship in. But he had placed no gate here, and he could hear no sounds that indicated there were servants inside whom he could demand entrance of.
Alex watched from the stables as Sir Guy tested the gate across the driveway to the main house. She shook her head, listening as the thunder rolled in the distance. Even though the sun was on its way down, she could see the clouds moving in. It was going to be a nasty night. "Sir Guy," she called. "Stable your horse and come with me. I'm not lying to you."
The sound of a bus coming up the street made her pause and she watched his reaction as a big double decker red bus passed the entrance to the long drive that led to the gate. She saw the look of shock and something else cross his features and shook her head, chuckling to herself. She wasn't going to be caught in the rain and headed for her small cottage and a warm cup of tea.
Guy stared as the.. thing rumbled by, the red color of it bright even in the falling light. An acrid smell acompanied it, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he scowled, leading his horse over the strange path once more, offering a small prayer of thanks that the stables were at least where he recalled they should be, even if they looked little like the stables when he'd left, what he thought had been merely the night before.
The floor of it appeared paved with some form of stone, a large slab without seams of mortar to show where it had been fitted together, if it had. Three other horses already occupied stalls, one of which he recognized as the one the woman had rode. Guy led his horse into one of the unoccupied stalls, grimacing as he took in the lack of stable-hands. He'd had to care for his horse when no stable was availible, but this... this he'd never done before.
Removing the saddle, he settled it across the back of the stall, and tied the horse to the slats before going in search of tools to groom his horse, as well as bedding and feed.
A young man walked into the stable and bumped into Guy. "Sorry gov'nor. Wasn't expecting ya in the tack room. Miss Sloane sent me to care fer ye 'orse. She said to just come on in." Thunder rolled across the land. "I'd be 'urrying before the downpour comes." He pointed to the small cottage and then went into the main stable area to groom Guy's horse.
Guy clenched his jaw, glaring a moment across the small courtyard at the cottage, one hand curling into a fist before he stalked out of the stable. He despised the thought of sleeping in servants' quarters for the night, but with no entrance to the manor house itself, he had little choice. He paused in the doorway of the cottage, blinking at the light inside.
"What sorcery is this?"
Alex walked into the kitchen at his voice, having changed into a pair of sweat pants. "It's called a light. Electricity." She watched as he hesitantly stepped into the room, sneering as he looked around. "For someone who just appeared in the middle of Sherwood on a beautiful day, you don't seem very grateful to be out of the wind and cold." Just as she finished speaking, lightning crackled across the sky and the clouds opened up in a down pour. "Can I offer you some tea? Ale? Rum?"
"Ale," Guy replied quickly, despising the first as a witch's brew, and not knowing what the last was. "What is 'rum', and what sort of sorcery is elektrisity?" He drew out the last word as he sounded it out, uncertain of the effect of mentioning it on the magic itself. He'd been told often enough as a child that the name of a witch or her magic had power over it.
Alex blinked at him as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a Coors Light. She twisted the cap off it, thought about handing Guy the bottle and then decided that maybe a mug would be a better idea. She opened the freezer and pulled out a frosted mug, shoving it closed with her shoulder as she turned to him. "Electricity. It's not sorcery, it's part of nature. Like lightening in a storm. It's just been...harnessed for lack of a better word." She figured the simple explanation was better than the technical one. She slid the mug to Guy and set to making herself a cup of tea.
Guy reached out a hand to pick up the mug, and raised an eyebrow at the chill of the material. It felt like nothing he'd ever encountered before, but was as cold as metal in winter. "What is that box? This is as cold as if it were winter." He took a careful taste of the ale inside, and grimaced. "And your master ought find a new brewer. This is of no quality to be served to any but peasents."
Alex chuckled at his comment. "It's an ice box, Guy. It keeps things cold." She measured out some jasmine tea into a strainer and poured the boiling water over it, letting it steep as she dug through the cabinets for some shortbread. The lights flickered and thunder rolled across the sky just as the rain began to pour. She looked over her shoulder towards the window. "Do me a favor." She handed him a box of matches. "Could you go light the candles in the other room? We're gonna lose power." She watched his eyebrows draw down at the matches and sighing, she showed him how they worked. "And hurry," she added as she moved to the window to close it and lock the back door.
Guy found the candles on the mantle of a fireplace, carefully drawing the match along the box as Alex had shown him, wrinkling his nose at the smell of brimestone that came as it flared into flame. It was far easier than a flint for lighting flame, and he wondered for a moment if a fire could be lit as easily. The candle wicks appeared to be trimmed properly, and they caught easily when he held the match to them.
He quirked one corner of his mouth upward when the room went suddenly darker, the only light the candles he'd lit. This was more familiar, and so long as the roof had been well-cared for, there would be light availible.
Alex walked into the living room just as Guy lit the last candle. She stood there for a moment, tea in one hand, a plate of cookies in the other and watched as he knealt to arrange the wood in the fireplace. Within moments there was a warm and cozy fire crackling away, the storm outside building. "Well, that was a good idea," she commented. She sat down and leaned back on the couch and sipped her tea. "So, you want to tell me again who you really are and where you came from?" she asked.
Guy gave her a disgusted look. "I am Sir Guy of Gisbourne, and I own Locksley Manor. Or, at least, I used to own it." He was rather annoyed to find the manor in the hands of a complete unknown. The owner could, in fact, be a relative of Robin Hood for all he knew. "I went to confront a thief, a witch by the name of Mordre, and then it was daylight when it should have been night, and a century of sorcery, not the year it had been the day before."
She balanced her mug on her knee. "Sir Guy Crispin Gisbourne, Lord of Gisbourne, born in the year of our lord 1157. Your family was disgraced, hence you not really owning any property, and you took up with Phazey, Sheriff of Nottingham, in an effort to reestablish the family name." She noticed he paled slightly. "You were enamored of Marian of Knighton Hall and probably could've won her had Sir Robin of Locksley not come home when he did." She tool a sip of her tea. Not very many people knew the true story behind Robin Hood. She did. It was the basis of her doctorate in history. "You snuck off to the Holy Land in an attempt to murder King Richard, but wounded Robin instead..."
"Enough!" he bellowed, clearly disturbed that she knew all of this.
"Ah...so am I right," she said quietly.
"How did you know all of that about me?" Guy glared at Alex as he found a chair suitable to sit on. "Where was it recorded?"
Alex smiled as she finished off her tea. "Oh wait. I'm not done yet. You disappeared in 1193 exactly two months after your wedding to Marian was interrupted by one Robin of Locksley never to be seen again and presumed to have died of a broken heart." She set her cup down. "It's not recorded in all one place. There are variations of the Robin Hood story. I've pieced together over ten of the variations and weeded out the truth from the fiction and have the facts and historical records to back it up." She smiled and stood up. It was close to nine at night. "I'm off tomorrow and I'm tired so I'll be saying good night. If you'd like, you can either sleep on the couch or the spare bedroom upstairs." She walked towards the stairs and stopped gazing at him. "Sir Guy, you are way out of time and place. You have two choices. Get used to being in the modern world or find a way back to your own time." She started up the stairs. "Blow out the candles before you come to bed."
~ ~~ ~
Duncan raised an eyebrow at the contents of the package dropped off at his barge by a harried-looking messenger. There had been no message with it, only the location of the barge scrawled across the outside of the package in a familiar hand. Why had Alysse sent Methos' sword to his barge?
Of course, Duncan didn't have to wait long for the answer. He felt the presence of another Immortal before the question had reverberated through his head. With purposeful strides, Methos' sword in his hand, for one was as good as another, he walked to the door and opened it. "Methos," he stated in surprise.
"MacLeod," Methos greeted in boredom. He leaned one arm on the doorframe and stared at Duncan. "Where is she?"
"Where's who?" Duncan set Methos' sword against the wall, inviting the other Immortal inside. He knew Methos was asking about Alysse, but the pirate wasn't the only woman in the old man's acquaintence, and Duncan suspected Alysse was playing a game. Again.
Methos stared at Duncan before sighing and walking in. "Alysse. That's who." He pointed to Duncan as he passed. "And you knew that." He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on the back of the couch, holding out his hands over the fire place. He looked up at Duncan and paused. "Is that my sword?"
Duncan grimaced. "It arrived in a package half an hour before you showed up. Without a note."
"Oh, well, isn't that just bloody lovely." He plopped down on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table, one arm slung across the back of the chair. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you know what that...woman did to me this time? Do you know how close I am to taking her head and ridding this world of her miserable little existance?" he asked.
Duncan didn't bother to say anything, knowing that Methos would tell him what the oldest Immortal wanted him to know, whether he asked what Alysse had done or not. And having been the subject of one of Alysse's games before, he had a clue how annoying they could be.
"She dragged me away from my nice little manor in the middle of Sherwood Forrest where I had a very pleasant maid who also cooked and enjoyed horses, martial arts and fencing. And then, to add insult to injury..." He stood up and walked over to the small sideboard, helping himself to a glass of brandy before Duncan could object. "...she steals off in the middle of the night, stealing my sword and leaving me in Cherborg with nothing but a single change of clothing and an expired credit card." He looked at Duncan. "I'm going to kill her."
"You have to find her first." Duncan headed for the kitchen, intent on fixing himself the lunch he'd meant to when first the messenger showed up, and then Methos. "She doesn't use GPS on her ships, and she's been sailing all the time you've spent avoiding being out on water."
Methos' eyebrow went up. "Really?" He followed Duncan to the little kitchen, his lips twitching. "Spending some time in our mutual 'friends' company, MacLeod?" he asked, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice at the word 'friend'.
"She had a new sailboat a few months ago, and Amanda wanted me to see it. She co-owns the boat." Duncan shrugged, putting together a sandwich for lunch. He had a feeling he wouldn't get to enjoy more than that. "Alysse was arguing with someone over the lack of GPS, and the merits of sailing by compass, chart, and knowledge of the ocean when we arrived. And insisted on proving that she was perfectly capable of sailing without modern technology."
Methos simply blinked and leaned against the doorframe. "How long were you lost at sea?" he calmly asked.
"We weren't." Duncan shrugged. "It took me six months to convince the Australians I wasn't part of her crew when they caught her pirating. She and Amanda forgot they weren't the only two in a prison cell because of it."
Methos smiled. "You can be deviously wicked when you want to be, MacLeod." He looked at the sandwich Duncan had made and snatched off his plate. He took a bite and pointed at him. "I'm still going to kill her when I find her." His cell phone rang and he dug it from his pocket, his brow drawing down at the number. "Hmm. I'm not answering it right now. If there's an emergency, she'll leave a message." He returned to the couch sandwich in hand. "So, did you leave them in Australia?"
Duncan glared at Methos a moment before making himself another sandwich. "They left me in Australia. I don't know where either of them are."
"Well, no harm no foul, I guess. I have my sword back." He looked up as there was a knock on the door. "Company? You're popular today."
Duncan felt the fainter sensation of an Immortal who had yet to die their first death, and reached into the fridge to pull out the container of left-over take-out that sat in the door. "She's expected company." He opened the door, beckoning Makenzie in.
"Hey, Mac, sorry I'm late. Overslept." Makenzie shed her jacket as she came through the door, pausing when she saw Methos on the couch. "I didn't know you had company. Is he...?" She gave him an inquiring look, not mentioning the word immortal, just in case.
"Yeah."
"Oh, good." Makenzie tossed her jacket over the back of one of the chairs, heading for the kitchen until Duncan handed her the take-out container. "Thanks, Duncan." She sat on the table, facing Methos, and ignoring Duncan's sigh of exasperation. "Makenzie Sudworth. And you are?"
Methos looked at Duncan. She knew what he was so there was no sense in telling her otherwise. "Methos," he purred, taking her hand and kissing it.
Author:
morgynleri_fic and sparrows_ladyFandoms: Robin Hood and Highlander
Rating: PG13
Warnings: violence
Pairings: Guy/OFC
Character(s): Sir Guy of Gisbourne, Methos/Adam Pierson, Duncan MacLeod, Mordre ferch Gywddion/Victoria Arthur, Makenzie Sudworth, Alexandra Sloane
Summary: Sir Guy of Gisbourne goes out to retrieve some personal items stolen by a witch, and ends up in the 21st century, where his manor is now owned by the world's oldest Immortal.
Notes: Set after the first season of Robin Hood, and after the entire series of Highlander, and mostly ignoring Endgame at the moment.
Prologue
Mordre hummed quietly under her breath as she paced the circle, lighting the candles set at each of the four points. Each cast a small circle of light that danced across the items stolen from Sir Guy. Personal items that would help to attract the essence of the perfect woman for him.
Standing to the north, she raised her hands, tilting her head back to look up at the night sky, her voice rising in a chanted spell, in a language that had not been heard this far north, a plea to the gods to grant her desire. To bring forth in the circle the woman who would suit well the man whose belongings lay at the edge.
Sir Guy of Gisbourne was furious and he rode full tilt into the darkness of Sherwood. Marian had betrayed him. Robin Hood wanted him dead. And of course there was the dear Sheriff who stabbed everyone in the back. To add insult to injury, that woman, that... witch, had the nerve to steal into Locksley Manor and abscond with items precious and dear. He would have never learned who had done it if not for the fear of retribution from the peasants of the village.
He wasn't sure how deep into the forest he had rode, but he saw the glow of candles up ahead and pressed his horse on. His eyes narrowed, fury on his face, Guy entered the small glade, pulling back hard on the reins. "You!" He pulled his sword, his horse dancing as he gazed at the items. His items. He pointed the sword at Mordre. "Do you know what the penalty for theft is?" he bellowed.
"Sir Guy!" Mordre backed away, staring across the circle at the man she had planned to help. "I... I was going to bring them back. I swear, on that's holy, I would have brought them back in the morning." She took a deep breath, holding out one hand, the one she'd just slashed open to offer her blood to finish the summoning. "I wanted to help you. Please... please..."
Guy stared at her, watching the blood slowly slide down her wrist. The horse danced into the edge of the circle. "What were you helping me with, witch? Helping me lighten my load in case I have to move out of Locksley Manor again?" His rage was formidable and after the last few weeks, he no longer had the strength to rein it in. "I am tired of your meddling." He raised his sword and kicked the horses' flanks, stepping full into the circle.
"No!" Mordre's eyes widened, and she reached both hands for Guy, trying to pull the spell back as it swirled around him, lighting the clearing as brightly as daylight for a moment. When the light faded, circle, candles, man, and horse had vanished, leaving Mordre alone in the dark.
"Christ's blood." Mordre sat down on the ground, running her uncut hand through her hair, staring at the circle with dismay. "I just handed bloody Robin Hood a victory on a silver platter," she muttered to herself. "And once that blasted sheriff finds out what I've done, I'll be lucky to keep my head on my shoulders. I hate moving."
Chapter 1
Alexandra Sloane had just dumped a bucket of dirty water out of the house and stared at the far field. She was done for the day and was so tempted to go riding. Her employer, Adam Pierson, wouldn't be back for at least a few more hours and she really didn't want to sit alone in the small cottage at the edge of his property line. She ran her fingers through her short wavy brown hair and went back inside to clean up the last of the supplies.
Within an hour, she was done, the house locked up, and the horse she had decided to ride saddled and beneath her. The afternoon had turned sunny and unusually warm for the English countryside, which made riding even more enjoyable. She slowed the horse into a trot and weaved her way through the woods, listening to the birds singing in the trees above her. She would stop at the clearing and water the horse before turning back towards home and dinner. She loosely held the reins, taking in the beauty of the forest as she entered the clearing.
Alex dismounted and led the horse to the stream. Something caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise and she listened. The forest had grown quiet.
Too quiet.
She turned just as the ground shook and lightning struck the ground in the middle of the clearing, losing the horses's reins as it shied and bucked at the sudden disturbance. She was thrown to the ground, her back scraping against a tree and she somehow managed to avoid getting trampled on by horse's hooves. She thought it was her horse until she came face to face with a very wicked looking and sharp blade pointed at her throat. She followed the line of the sword up to a black gloved hand and then higher to a set of vivid eyes staring down at her.
Guy kept the point of his sword to the throat of the woman who pressed against a tree at the edge of the clearing. The clearing itself looked as he remembered, but the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. There was something very different here, and he knew the witch had something to do with it.
"Where is the witch, and what has she done with me?" He held the woman's gaze, silently demanding an answer.
Alex leaned back slightly so she could swallow. "I'm the only person here," she answered as she stared at him. His clothing was from another time. Hell, his sword was definitely from another time. "I have no idea who or what you're talking about." She remained as still as she could. "Are you lost? Are you part of some Ren Faire reanctment?" she inquired.
She had to admit he was quite handsome. But she would've remembered seeing him in the pub if he was local. "Can I...uh..get up? This isn't exactly a comfortable position with this rock sticking me in the back."
Guy's brows furrowed at her words. "I do not know what this Ren Faire you speak of is, but I have no part in it." He nodded when she requested to get up, pulling his sword back enough to allow her to stand, but not returning it to the sheath at his hip. "The witch Mordre, where is she? I've a score to settle with her, and you would do well to direct me to where she has fled."
Alex held up her hands in a 'T'. "Time out. Hold on a sec. I don't know a witch named Mordre. I've only been around these parts a few months myself." She pointed back towards the house. "I live in a cottage about five miles from here. If you just chill out, we can go there and I can see if I can help you find her."
And maybe get you naked and in the sack, she thought to herself.
"Do you have a name? I'm Alex. Alex Sloane."
"You don't know who I am?" Guy tightened his grip on his sword, a chill going down his spine. Her words had not entirely made sense, but her asking for his name made his concern that the witch had intended him harm even greater. "How can you live near to Locksley Manor, and not know who I am?"
Alex stared at him and smiled. "Locksley Manor? It hasn't been called that since...hell, at least 1560." She tilted her head as she gazed at him, her smile fading slightly. He was dressed like he had come from the late 1100's. He referred to Adam's historic home as Locksley Manor and they were standing at the edge of Sherwood. She blinked for a moment, her brow furrowing. "You said a witch was involved."
"Yes." He glowered at her.
Alex chewed her lower lip for a moment.
There had been lightning on a clear, sunny day. The ground rumbled and shook like an earthquake which England didn't have.
"Oh boy. You could be one of two people and if you are who I think you are and you can prove it, you're way out of your time," she said quietly.
"Prove who I am?" Guy's lip curled up slightly. "I am Sir Guy of Gisbourne, and I do not need to prove to some commoner who I am." He returned his sword to its sheath, nudging his horse with his knees, moving close enought to the woman to reach down and grab her arm. "You will tell me where the witch is, or I will turn you over to the sheriff, and he is not as kind as I. You will hang in the witch's place if you continue to protect her."
Alex was not one to be manhandled. God only knew, Adam had painstakingly taken the time to teach her how to defend herself when she first arrived there and was mugged before she even made it to his doorstep. She gazed up at the man, though, in shock, every self-defense technique flying right out of her head. "Sir Guy of Gisbourne? Well, at least I got the better looking of the two," she laughed nervously. "It's always the bad boys."
She sighed and tried to pry his fingers from her arm. "You aren't going...to find...this witch," she stated through clenched teeth as she worked his hand. "You are in the year of our Lord 2007. She is long gone and by some really bizarre twist of fate, you landed on my doorstep."
"Two thousand and seven?" Guy stared at her, his grip tightening. "How is this possible?" He shook her slightly. "And who else could I have been that you call me a 'bad boy'?"
"The Sheriff. You know, mister backstabbing, let's revolt against the king?" She stopped struggling, exhaling. "Look, I'm assuming your little witch buddy somehow tossed you into the future." She gazed up at him. "And that's assuming your not some pyscho from the local looney bin playing Robin Hood." She jerked her arm. "And you are bruising my arm. If you want my help, whoever you may be, let go. It's gonna be dark and I'd like to get home while I can still see."
"Robin Hood is nothing more than a common outlaw." Guy sneered as he pushed her slightly away from him. He wondered why she thought he might be the sheriff for a long moment before shaking the thought off. "What has become of Locksley Manor?" He looked down at her again, manuevering his horse to keep between her and the other steed in the clearing until he got an answer.
"Well, I won't be telling you how you wound up in the story," she breathed. "Locksley Manor is a private home. The village of Locksley is a tourist attraction as is the forest. My boss owns Locksley now. Look, it's getting dark, I'm getting cold and there's a storm moving in. Please."
"Your boss? What is that?" Guy shifted the horse again when she tried to get around to her steed. "And who is he?"
"My employer. Adam Pierson and the owner of Locksley Manor," she snapped. She ducked beneath his horse's neck and headed towards her own steed, mumbling something about annoying 12th century lords and the damn haunted forest. "I am heading home," she stated as she swung up into the saddle. "You want me, come and get me." She snapped the reins once and took off in a gallop.
Guy stared after her as she rode off, before nudging his horse after her, shaking his head at the tale she had told him. "Two thousand and seven, indeed." He snorted, pushing the horse to go a bit faster as the wind picked up, already making plans for what he intended to do with the witch when he caught her. She would regret trying to make a fool of him.
He rode out of the forest, and hauled his horse to a halt, staring at the building in front of him. It didn't look as he remembered it, though he could see the familiar building structure beneath the strange additions. He carefully dismounted his horse, kneeling next to a strange path of black, touching it with gloved fingers. It was hard, like stone, but the pattern of it looked more like gravel bound together with some unfamiliar potion, perhaps.
Standing once more, he stepped gingerly onto the surface, testing it before leading his horse onto it, and up towards the house he had called home. A gate barred his way through the arch into the inner courtyard, and he tested it, judging its strength. The lock was worked into the gate itself, and the bars were iron, as well as he could judge. At least this was something he could recognize the workmanship in. But he had placed no gate here, and he could hear no sounds that indicated there were servants inside whom he could demand entrance of.
Alex watched from the stables as Sir Guy tested the gate across the driveway to the main house. She shook her head, listening as the thunder rolled in the distance. Even though the sun was on its way down, she could see the clouds moving in. It was going to be a nasty night. "Sir Guy," she called. "Stable your horse and come with me. I'm not lying to you."
The sound of a bus coming up the street made her pause and she watched his reaction as a big double decker red bus passed the entrance to the long drive that led to the gate. She saw the look of shock and something else cross his features and shook her head, chuckling to herself. She wasn't going to be caught in the rain and headed for her small cottage and a warm cup of tea.
Guy stared as the.. thing rumbled by, the red color of it bright even in the falling light. An acrid smell acompanied it, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he scowled, leading his horse over the strange path once more, offering a small prayer of thanks that the stables were at least where he recalled they should be, even if they looked little like the stables when he'd left, what he thought had been merely the night before.
The floor of it appeared paved with some form of stone, a large slab without seams of mortar to show where it had been fitted together, if it had. Three other horses already occupied stalls, one of which he recognized as the one the woman had rode. Guy led his horse into one of the unoccupied stalls, grimacing as he took in the lack of stable-hands. He'd had to care for his horse when no stable was availible, but this... this he'd never done before.
Removing the saddle, he settled it across the back of the stall, and tied the horse to the slats before going in search of tools to groom his horse, as well as bedding and feed.
A young man walked into the stable and bumped into Guy. "Sorry gov'nor. Wasn't expecting ya in the tack room. Miss Sloane sent me to care fer ye 'orse. She said to just come on in." Thunder rolled across the land. "I'd be 'urrying before the downpour comes." He pointed to the small cottage and then went into the main stable area to groom Guy's horse.
Guy clenched his jaw, glaring a moment across the small courtyard at the cottage, one hand curling into a fist before he stalked out of the stable. He despised the thought of sleeping in servants' quarters for the night, but with no entrance to the manor house itself, he had little choice. He paused in the doorway of the cottage, blinking at the light inside.
"What sorcery is this?"
Alex walked into the kitchen at his voice, having changed into a pair of sweat pants. "It's called a light. Electricity." She watched as he hesitantly stepped into the room, sneering as he looked around. "For someone who just appeared in the middle of Sherwood on a beautiful day, you don't seem very grateful to be out of the wind and cold." Just as she finished speaking, lightning crackled across the sky and the clouds opened up in a down pour. "Can I offer you some tea? Ale? Rum?"
"Ale," Guy replied quickly, despising the first as a witch's brew, and not knowing what the last was. "What is 'rum', and what sort of sorcery is elektrisity?" He drew out the last word as he sounded it out, uncertain of the effect of mentioning it on the magic itself. He'd been told often enough as a child that the name of a witch or her magic had power over it.
Alex blinked at him as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a Coors Light. She twisted the cap off it, thought about handing Guy the bottle and then decided that maybe a mug would be a better idea. She opened the freezer and pulled out a frosted mug, shoving it closed with her shoulder as she turned to him. "Electricity. It's not sorcery, it's part of nature. Like lightening in a storm. It's just been...harnessed for lack of a better word." She figured the simple explanation was better than the technical one. She slid the mug to Guy and set to making herself a cup of tea.
Guy reached out a hand to pick up the mug, and raised an eyebrow at the chill of the material. It felt like nothing he'd ever encountered before, but was as cold as metal in winter. "What is that box? This is as cold as if it were winter." He took a careful taste of the ale inside, and grimaced. "And your master ought find a new brewer. This is of no quality to be served to any but peasents."
Alex chuckled at his comment. "It's an ice box, Guy. It keeps things cold." She measured out some jasmine tea into a strainer and poured the boiling water over it, letting it steep as she dug through the cabinets for some shortbread. The lights flickered and thunder rolled across the sky just as the rain began to pour. She looked over her shoulder towards the window. "Do me a favor." She handed him a box of matches. "Could you go light the candles in the other room? We're gonna lose power." She watched his eyebrows draw down at the matches and sighing, she showed him how they worked. "And hurry," she added as she moved to the window to close it and lock the back door.
Guy found the candles on the mantle of a fireplace, carefully drawing the match along the box as Alex had shown him, wrinkling his nose at the smell of brimestone that came as it flared into flame. It was far easier than a flint for lighting flame, and he wondered for a moment if a fire could be lit as easily. The candle wicks appeared to be trimmed properly, and they caught easily when he held the match to them.
He quirked one corner of his mouth upward when the room went suddenly darker, the only light the candles he'd lit. This was more familiar, and so long as the roof had been well-cared for, there would be light availible.
Alex walked into the living room just as Guy lit the last candle. She stood there for a moment, tea in one hand, a plate of cookies in the other and watched as he knealt to arrange the wood in the fireplace. Within moments there was a warm and cozy fire crackling away, the storm outside building. "Well, that was a good idea," she commented. She sat down and leaned back on the couch and sipped her tea. "So, you want to tell me again who you really are and where you came from?" she asked.
Guy gave her a disgusted look. "I am Sir Guy of Gisbourne, and I own Locksley Manor. Or, at least, I used to own it." He was rather annoyed to find the manor in the hands of a complete unknown. The owner could, in fact, be a relative of Robin Hood for all he knew. "I went to confront a thief, a witch by the name of Mordre, and then it was daylight when it should have been night, and a century of sorcery, not the year it had been the day before."
She balanced her mug on her knee. "Sir Guy Crispin Gisbourne, Lord of Gisbourne, born in the year of our lord 1157. Your family was disgraced, hence you not really owning any property, and you took up with Phazey, Sheriff of Nottingham, in an effort to reestablish the family name." She noticed he paled slightly. "You were enamored of Marian of Knighton Hall and probably could've won her had Sir Robin of Locksley not come home when he did." She tool a sip of her tea. Not very many people knew the true story behind Robin Hood. She did. It was the basis of her doctorate in history. "You snuck off to the Holy Land in an attempt to murder King Richard, but wounded Robin instead..."
"Enough!" he bellowed, clearly disturbed that she knew all of this.
"Ah...so am I right," she said quietly.
"How did you know all of that about me?" Guy glared at Alex as he found a chair suitable to sit on. "Where was it recorded?"
Alex smiled as she finished off her tea. "Oh wait. I'm not done yet. You disappeared in 1193 exactly two months after your wedding to Marian was interrupted by one Robin of Locksley never to be seen again and presumed to have died of a broken heart." She set her cup down. "It's not recorded in all one place. There are variations of the Robin Hood story. I've pieced together over ten of the variations and weeded out the truth from the fiction and have the facts and historical records to back it up." She smiled and stood up. It was close to nine at night. "I'm off tomorrow and I'm tired so I'll be saying good night. If you'd like, you can either sleep on the couch or the spare bedroom upstairs." She walked towards the stairs and stopped gazing at him. "Sir Guy, you are way out of time and place. You have two choices. Get used to being in the modern world or find a way back to your own time." She started up the stairs. "Blow out the candles before you come to bed."
Duncan raised an eyebrow at the contents of the package dropped off at his barge by a harried-looking messenger. There had been no message with it, only the location of the barge scrawled across the outside of the package in a familiar hand. Why had Alysse sent Methos' sword to his barge?
Of course, Duncan didn't have to wait long for the answer. He felt the presence of another Immortal before the question had reverberated through his head. With purposeful strides, Methos' sword in his hand, for one was as good as another, he walked to the door and opened it. "Methos," he stated in surprise.
"MacLeod," Methos greeted in boredom. He leaned one arm on the doorframe and stared at Duncan. "Where is she?"
"Where's who?" Duncan set Methos' sword against the wall, inviting the other Immortal inside. He knew Methos was asking about Alysse, but the pirate wasn't the only woman in the old man's acquaintence, and Duncan suspected Alysse was playing a game. Again.
Methos stared at Duncan before sighing and walking in. "Alysse. That's who." He pointed to Duncan as he passed. "And you knew that." He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on the back of the couch, holding out his hands over the fire place. He looked up at Duncan and paused. "Is that my sword?"
Duncan grimaced. "It arrived in a package half an hour before you showed up. Without a note."
"Oh, well, isn't that just bloody lovely." He plopped down on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table, one arm slung across the back of the chair. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you know what that...woman did to me this time? Do you know how close I am to taking her head and ridding this world of her miserable little existance?" he asked.
Duncan didn't bother to say anything, knowing that Methos would tell him what the oldest Immortal wanted him to know, whether he asked what Alysse had done or not. And having been the subject of one of Alysse's games before, he had a clue how annoying they could be.
"She dragged me away from my nice little manor in the middle of Sherwood Forrest where I had a very pleasant maid who also cooked and enjoyed horses, martial arts and fencing. And then, to add insult to injury..." He stood up and walked over to the small sideboard, helping himself to a glass of brandy before Duncan could object. "...she steals off in the middle of the night, stealing my sword and leaving me in Cherborg with nothing but a single change of clothing and an expired credit card." He looked at Duncan. "I'm going to kill her."
"You have to find her first." Duncan headed for the kitchen, intent on fixing himself the lunch he'd meant to when first the messenger showed up, and then Methos. "She doesn't use GPS on her ships, and she's been sailing all the time you've spent avoiding being out on water."
Methos' eyebrow went up. "Really?" He followed Duncan to the little kitchen, his lips twitching. "Spending some time in our mutual 'friends' company, MacLeod?" he asked, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice at the word 'friend'.
"She had a new sailboat a few months ago, and Amanda wanted me to see it. She co-owns the boat." Duncan shrugged, putting together a sandwich for lunch. He had a feeling he wouldn't get to enjoy more than that. "Alysse was arguing with someone over the lack of GPS, and the merits of sailing by compass, chart, and knowledge of the ocean when we arrived. And insisted on proving that she was perfectly capable of sailing without modern technology."
Methos simply blinked and leaned against the doorframe. "How long were you lost at sea?" he calmly asked.
"We weren't." Duncan shrugged. "It took me six months to convince the Australians I wasn't part of her crew when they caught her pirating. She and Amanda forgot they weren't the only two in a prison cell because of it."
Methos smiled. "You can be deviously wicked when you want to be, MacLeod." He looked at the sandwich Duncan had made and snatched off his plate. He took a bite and pointed at him. "I'm still going to kill her when I find her." His cell phone rang and he dug it from his pocket, his brow drawing down at the number. "Hmm. I'm not answering it right now. If there's an emergency, she'll leave a message." He returned to the couch sandwich in hand. "So, did you leave them in Australia?"
Duncan glared at Methos a moment before making himself another sandwich. "They left me in Australia. I don't know where either of them are."
"Well, no harm no foul, I guess. I have my sword back." He looked up as there was a knock on the door. "Company? You're popular today."
Duncan felt the fainter sensation of an Immortal who had yet to die their first death, and reached into the fridge to pull out the container of left-over take-out that sat in the door. "She's expected company." He opened the door, beckoning Makenzie in.
"Hey, Mac, sorry I'm late. Overslept." Makenzie shed her jacket as she came through the door, pausing when she saw Methos on the couch. "I didn't know you had company. Is he...?" She gave him an inquiring look, not mentioning the word immortal, just in case.
"Yeah."
"Oh, good." Makenzie tossed her jacket over the back of one of the chairs, heading for the kitchen until Duncan handed her the take-out container. "Thanks, Duncan." She sat on the table, facing Methos, and ignoring Duncan's sigh of exasperation. "Makenzie Sudworth. And you are?"
Methos looked at Duncan. She knew what he was so there was no sense in telling her otherwise. "Methos," he purred, taking her hand and kissing it.
