Crossing blades

[Maeve]

She was still smiling softly, but the reply that came back at her was one she had definitely not expected. And when Caipra suddenly turned around and started walking away, leaving her sitting on the stone bench like a small child scolded for stubbornness, her eyebrows arched up in bewilderment. At a loss of words, she found herself unable to do anything but stare back at her retreating form, and for a second, she wondered if the wise sorceress was truly serious about leaving her like this, or if she was simply toying with her to teach her a lesson.

And it wasn’t long before she got her answer, for as quickly as she had turned away, Caipra faced her again and sent a teasing, prickly remark in her direction. It was a witty comment about saying hello to the crew on her behalf, a witty comment to nag her about her obstinacy to control everything, a witty comment to needle her about her stubborn desire to always have the last word, a witty comment that even left her pondering about what an interesting scene it would be if she were to actually address the crew in the middle of a conversation with something along the lines of By the way, Maeve says hello…

And again, she could only stare back as Caipra started walking away once more. She had lost. Being stubborn obviously had no effect on the other sorceress, and now, in the blink of an eye, she was left with no more arguments. She was cornered. And somehow, for a reason that escaped her totally, despite the insufferable annoyance eating at her for being beaten at her own game, the smile on her face widened on its own. Unbelievable. She should have grunted irritatingly at the fact that things were once again not going her way, but somehow she only felt like laughing at the whole situation. She shook her head, astounded, making a mental note of never trying to outwit the wise sorceress ever again.

After a few seconds, before Caipra had wandered too far, she bit on her lower lip and shrugged off what was left of her pride. Calling after the wise woman, she finally surrendered the victory to her. “Alright! You win! I give up!” Shaking her head again amusingly, she cautiously rose from the stone bench. Dizziness washed over her as soon as she was back on her feet but she forced herself to ignore it.

She was about to join Caipra down the busy market alley but she only had time to take three steps when throaty, snarling laughter echoed from a sideway lane close by. Turning her head, a bunch of scrubby ruffians suddenly appeared a couple of feet in front of her in the intersection. Wearing disheveled clothes and empty grins, half blocking the lane where people were circulating and where Caipra had walked into, they were snickering loudly without reserve, and with their eyes red and puffy, she knew right away they had had quite a night.

Caught up in a probably very lame joke, they hadn’t noticed her yet, and as hesitant bystanders subtly shrieked away from the intimidating bunch in the alley, her instincts told her to quickly pass in front of them as well to reach Caipra and avoid trouble, especially public trouble. But as the thought finished processing in her head, her eyes locked with the dark gaze of the leader of the group, a big, gruff-looking bald guy at least a head taller than she was, with arms the size of her thighs. Right then, she knew it was too late.

His eyes immediately flickered when he looked her way and a smirk appeared on his lips. His voice was coarse like sandpaper rubbing on metal. “Well, well, well…Look here, boys!” The rest of the party turned silent for a moment and the thugs’ attention slowly centered on her. Five new wicked smiles flashed her way as the bald ruffian’s friends stared back at her with new-found interest.

She felt her blood run cold. Right now, things could easily go astray in a matter of seconds and she knew it. These guys weren’t in any conditions to reason with. But on the other hand, chances were she would probably provoke them just by ignoring them. She didn’t know what to do. Staying completely still, arms at her sides, she kept staring back at the leader, hoping her fiery glare would dissuade him from attempting anything. But she knew that was only wishful thinking, not to mention that the sensation of vertigo kept coming back and forth inside her head like ocean waves.

Eying her up and down, the broad, bald man cockily smirked down at her once again. “Lost your shoes, puppet?”

She didn’t flinch. She kept glowering at him, clenching her jaw. “Yes. And I’d like to keep looking for them so get out of my way.” Her voice was strong and firm. She knew it was probably not the wisest tone to use at the moment but when it came to cheeky thugs, her patience had always been pretty short.

However, the ruffian didn’t even seem impressed by her stern command. In fact, it only seemed to amuse him all the more. He raised his hands up in the air to show he meant no harm, but there was an evil glint shining in his dark, mischievous eyes as they continued to dance on her. “Easy now, what’s the hurry? Don’t you want to get to know us a little better?” He turned to his friends as they leered and then turned back to her again with a snide. “I’m sure you have many secrets hidden up those pretty legs of yours that you’d like to share with us…”

Anger simmered up in her stomach as she held his twisted gaze with her own blazing, fiery one. Fighting to keep her cool, she sent him another spiky remark without hesitation. “Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, Baldy, but I’m not the sharing type. Especially not with arrogant, empty-headed gorillas.”

She picked a nerve. All at once, the ruffians’ smiles disappeared and their gazes turned dark. They huffed and growled angrily at her insulting comment, ready to jump at her throat. But she stood her ground. And nervously held her breath...

[Dermott]

While his sister and the wise sorceress started bickering about who should get the last word, It was not without secret amusement that he witnessed to their face-off. Of course he didn’t dare to enter their conversation, he knew better than meddle in the battle for power of two equally witted and stubborn women.


And other than that, thanks to Caipra, Bryn’s subject had been set aside at least for now. And he was grateful to the old sorceress for having given him more time. Time to get used to the idea of his sister meeting such a conflict-ridden person from their past. And time to also give her maybe the possibility to start knowing Bryn for whom she really was. But it wasn’t use to worry about it now, the first thing to do was to come back to the others and let Maeve rest.


Nevertheless her reaction gave him a strange feeling of something hidden under the surface. Even if Dim Dim could have told her he sent Bryn to the crew, she initially looked too harsh at the mention of her name. But whatever the reason may be, he wouldn’t have certainly forced her to talk about it, not when she was so eager to change the subject as well.


And this made him finally remember that since when the world around them started functioning normally once again, he still hadn’t re-opened his telepathic link with Bryn, who at this point must have been dead worried about him. However, when he was on the point to contact his friend, a mob of drunken wranglers had already surrounded his sister, who with her fierce personality didn’t fail to rebuke to their provocative allusions.


In the blink of an eye all his attention was back on the scene in front of him. His sharp senses perceiving the tension coming from the circle of people across the stone bench. So he warily stood still, and prepared to take flight and use his claws at any moment if need be.

[Caipra]

Caipra was silently laughing. She could only imagine Maeve's reaction as she was walking away from her.

The old sorceress just realized at this moment how happy she was. Despite the tiredness, after all the recents events, she was glad to see all her friends in the same place, after so long.
Her life in Basra was quiet, she knew a lot of people thanks to her work, and had found in Kriss a wonderful friend. But the link she had with the Nomad's crew was stronger than anything else, even if she didn't see them often. And nothing had been easy for any of them, since DimDim had disappeared, followed by Maeve a year after.
But now things would change again. Caipra's husband might not be back, but Maeve's return was the sign of a new hope.
So, yes, Caipra was happy, and things would get better in a moment...she hoped.

Getting out from her thoughts, she slowed down and turned around to see if Maeve was following her.
Her smile completely disappeared when she saw the scene in front of her.
A bunch of guys were facing Maeve, creating a wall between the two women. The old sorceress understood that their intentions towards the red-headed were not gentle.
This was not good, really not good. And there was nothing Caipra could do, first because she was too far from them, and then because without her powers, she's a simply old healer.

The tavern was not far, but she wouldn't have time to warn the crew.

Seeing no other option, she held her breath and waited...ready to act...if it was needed.

[Maeve]

As the ruffians kept hissing angrily amongst themselves, Baldy rubbed his chin with his calloused fingers and chuckled lowly, both at her blunt affront towards his gang and at the gracious nickname she had bestowed upon him. Although he was remaining incredibly calm, she could see his composure had sharply tensed, indicating he wasn’t used to being insulted so rudely and openly. Especially by a woman.

As his piercing gaze settled back on her, her mind began racing at the speed of sound. Quickly, she surveyed the five other thugs, noticing they were all carrying razor-sharp swords at their sides, just like their huge leader. Who knew what they’d be capable of…Their senses and judgment were obviously still fogged by a night of carousing, and it seemed to have magnified their boastfulness into dangerous proportions…

A wave of dizziness washed over her again. Gritting her teeth, she aimed her glare back at Baldy and cursed the situation silently. She was barefoot. She didn’t have any weapon. She couldn’t use magic because of the new laws. And on top of it all, she could faint at any moment. With odds like that, things couldn’t possibly get any worse. The day just kept getting better and better.

After endless seconds, as his friends' anger was about to peak, Baldy finally made his move. Slowly, he walked up to her, closing the gap between them step by step, stopping merely a foot away from her. Deliberately invading her personal space, towering over her closely, he could easily touch her if he so much as raised his hand now. But she held his gaze steadily, her nerves twitching, her heartbeat accelerating, her blood pumping.

He smirked down at her coldly, his grey eyes plunging right into hers, his breath on her face. “Now, that wasn’t very nice…” There was a silent warning in the coarse tone of his voice. “But I’m willing to forget your insolence if you give me a kiss...” He smirked again, his lips crooking up with an evil curve.

Staying completely still, with her arms at her side, she glowered back up at him with her jaw clenched tightly. Her voice simmered with annoyance as she fought to keep control over her shuddering muscles. “And I’m willing not to hurt you if you get out of my way.” She emphasized every word, her chocolate brown eyes sending daggers as she glared up at him. “Now.”

Baldy’s only reaction was a smile, a cocky one. He was enjoying himself, enjoying the challenge, taking pleasure in provoking her just to see how far he could go. It made her blood boil. And if he didn’t step away now, something told her that things would degenerate. Just like the tiniest spark could ignite a blazing fire. But he just kept smiling, toying with her, calculating his next move as his friends stood afar like a watchful audience. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. But then, as a wicked spark flashed in his cold grey eyes, Baldy leaned forward, raising his hand up to cup the side of her face in his palm.

That’s when she snapped.

Before his fingers even had time to touch her skin, she punched him square in the face, sending him tumbling backward in the nearest stall.

And then everything happened all at once. His crushing weight destroyed the market stand in a loud echoing crash, followed by yelps and gasps of shocked bystanders, potteries shattering on the ground in ringing clashes, fruits rolling everywhere in the alley, merchants red with anger yelling in her direction…

Amidst the chaos, she was having a hard time focusing. A sharp pain was spreading in her knuckles from the impact of Baldy’s hard head, and as she winced at the soreness, wondering if the bones were broken, the vertigo sensation hit on her once again, making her head buzz. She fought it tooth and nail, blinking the nasty feeling away as best as she could, and then she caught sight of the five other thugs unsheathing their swords with a cry of rage. They didn't look happy. Buried under the debris of the stall he had smashed into, Baldy was already coming to as well, and as he struggled to pull himself up, licking his split lip ragingly, his grey eyes locked with hers, an evil fury burning in them. “You wench!”

He was angry.

Very angry.

[Maeve]

The vertigo kept assailing her but Maeve held on to consciousness with everything she had. She couldn’t faint. Not now. Not here. Seeing as Baldy was still trying to work his way out of the stall debris piled up on top and around him, she turned her attention to the other trouble at hand: his five pals angrily strolling towards her with their swords drawn. Powered by pure fury and remnants of the ale they drank the night before, they were roughly shoving people out of their way and it was a matter of seconds before they would reach her and wring her neck. They looked like a hungry pack of wolves, growling at a prey they knew they had cornered. But Maeve hadn’t said her last word. If she was going down it wouldn’t be without a fight.

Frantically looking about for some sort of weapon she could use, she suddenly noticed a woman positioning herself beside her to her right. It was Kalani, but before Maeve could speak to her a merchant to her left, the one whose stall Badly had crashed into, gripped her arm with an iron hand. Waving his free arm wildly over his ruined merchandise on the ground, the angry man shouted at her, his face as red as a tomato. Maeve thought smoke was about to come out of his ears. Although she didn’t understand a word of the furious lecture he was giving her, she did notice the extent of the mess on the alley floor. Shattered potteries, sacks of spices, crates of fruits…

The fruits.

Stealing a glance at the dangerously close thugs advancing towards them--Baldy was almost on his feet now--Maeve pushed the fuming merchant yelling at her back against the wall and out of the way. “Get back!”

Wheeling on her heels to face Kalani, she quickly picked up papayas on the ground. “Have you ever played dodge ball?” Without waiting for an answer, Maeve shoved fruits in Kalani’s hands. “Because I could use another player in my team.”

Not losing another second, she gripped papayas of her own and threw one at the advancing five ruffians. Hitting home, the front thug with a lousy mustache received the fruit right between the eyes and fell backward, causing two of his friends to trip along with him.

Maeve wasn’t thinking anymore. Two things were keeping her together: pumping adrenaline and the sheer will not to faint. She was also immensely glad for Kalani’s presence by her side. The woman’s timing couldn’t have been any more perfect. Maeve just hoped Caipra was alright on the other side of the alleyway, in which the previous loud commotion was now replaced by utter chaos.

[Mala]

Mala watched with horror how the scene changed drastically, the early morning air suddenly buzzing with this unmistakable trace of danger which those six men seemed to be surrounded by. The young Celt found herself in the centre of their leader's attention and if the ghost had not already perceived the darkness that radiated from his drunken mind, his words and gaze would have told her.
Instinctively Mala stepped forward, her urge to protect the red-headed woman resurfacing with even more intensity than she had experienced back in the guard's post. And just like then it got easily replaced by another feeling that rooted deeper even than the worry for her son's friend. It was frustration. How much her soul longed to help, how much it wished to create a physical presence so that she could interfere in the world she had left behind - but all she could do was yet again watch and hope that others would realize what was beyond her power. And as if some unknown might had mercy not only with her, but also Maeve, another spirit suddenly approached the Celt, taking a stance right next to her and offering support when there was no one else nearby.
It didn't take Mala long to recognize the brunette who had offered her help mere hours before already. For some reason Kalani had ended up here just at the right point of time and even more important than that, she wasn't alone. The ghosts bright eyes caught sight of the tall man before any of the drunkards noticed his purposeful stride, and despite his looks she instantly knew that his soul distinguished him as someone of good intentions and a pure heart.

[everyone]

Majid



Majid's breaths were even, his muscles tensed as quickly he crossed the short alley. His senses allowed him to take in all the different sounds around - merchants yelling, unsettled children crying in fear while their mothers dragged them away from the chaos that had just exploded amidst them - and yet filter the important details for him to process. His dark eyes, almost black now again, took in the attackers' every movement and did not fail to see the silver leer of swords unshed. His expression was grim and only for a split second did an undefined kind of surprise melt into it as he noticed the red-headed stranger grab for something that shortly after she hurled forcefully at one of the pack, causing the unprepared man to topple over and drag two of his friends along with him.
Almost imperceptibly Majid's eyebrows rose when he realized her weapon of choice had indeed been fruit but deciding quickly that this fact contributed nothing to his own considerations, the merchant directed his gaze to lie on the bald man who now came dangerously close to the two women, his grey eyes preying on the redhead with undisguised fury before they suddenly came to focus on Kalani.
Being now in range to actually get the other one's words, Majid heard the low snarl that instantly left the tall man's lips, his voice a disconcerting mixture between an infuriated hiss and a lustful grunt. It was obvious the ruffian was surprised by the current events, the sudden presence of the graceful merchantwoman distracting him for a second. His shadowy gaze stared madly at the young brunette, his mind obviously foggy still not only from alcohol but also rage. Yet, despite his blood all too evidently beginning to boil he did acknowledge Kalani and while his friends howled in anger over the other woman's daring assault, their leader's attention got drawn to the newcomer who stood proud next to her friend.
"Now look what we have here", he spat venomously but in his eyes there was something sinister hiding and revealing itself through the twitch that started occupying his lips, his intentions found expression in more than only his words.
"It's not very clever of your friend to offend me. In fact it's very rude. But don't ya worry; we know just what to do with girls like her. She will learn her lesson. You on the other hand..." and as he moved forward just another inch he looked her all over and there was something in his gaze that made Majid's blood run cold.
Before the drunken agitator could even do as much as blink, he stood in front of Kalani, his tall frame effectively shielding her from the other man's approach.
The bald thug's eyes widened as he got cut off from his newfound subject of interest, and growling audibly he stared at the merchant who was about his height though maybe not of as impressive a statute as he himself.
For a moment the two of them lingered frozen in time, their dark gazes lying on each other and fighting a silent battle that both of them knew was going to come to an end soon.

"Leave."

This time it was Majid who spoke. His voice was nowhere near the warm sound he had bestowed upon the young merchantwoman just a few moments ago. It was a low whisper - a warning and laden with determination it left no doubt that Majid's threat was very real indeed.
Unnoticed by his opponent, his hands flexed, ready to reach for his scimitar if necessary and straightening his back he awaited the other one's response.
The same came within a heartbeat.
Reddening even more, if that was possible, the aggressive man's face contorted to form an ugly sneer.
"Who do you think you are?" He almost screamed, the words obviously beginning to slip from his mind without thinking as his anger was reaching its peak. And releasing a roar worthy a wild beast, he then plunged forward while at the same time his right hand fumbled for the side of his brown leather belt where a short but nevertheless sharp sword dangled menacingly.
"Nobody gets in Hakit's way", he snarled and emphasized his name as if it was one well-known, "Especially not some useless scum of a servant!"
The last bit he had spoken, his tongue had spat out with disgust. And as if his words of hatred had carried a secret signal, around the group of three all hell broke loose.

---

[Kalani]

Though most certainly determined to lend whatever aid that she could to Maeve... Kalani hadn't really the slightest clue what exactly she could do. Still, her sky-tinted gaze was scanning the area carefully, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. The pack of thugs seemed well armed, each one with at least a sword, if not likely a dagger or two hidden on their persons as well. She had no sword - had not wielded one in years, and then only in playful sparring with her foster brother - and a quick glance told her that the Celt was equally weaponless. And currently distracted, it seemed, as an angry merchant seized the red-head. The man's face was a crimson akin to the hair of the sorceress he was shouting at, though in all the chaos it was difficult to hear enough of his tirade to understand what he was saying. Kalani could sympathize, though. Such damage would cost money and she highly doubted the brutish men whose leader had confronted Maeve were the sort to offer to recompense the merchants for the destroyed wares. Perhaps when this was all over, she could do something about that. Until then, however, there were much more pressing matters to be dealt with. Mannerless drunkards, namely.

With a tensing of her slender frame, Kalani noted with a grim look that the bald-headed leader was nearly to his feet now. Worse, his compatriots were closing in now as well. Focused on that problem, it was with the slightest jolt that the brunette realized Maeve was addressing her with a question. And before she could frame any sort of answer, she found herself laden with fruit. Hardly a typical weapon, but given the situation, anything at all would be better than facing these brutes with nothing. Gripping a papaya in her right hand and another in her left, she readied herself for... well, whatever came next. Seeing as the Celt had already taken aim and felled one of the thugs - much to the dismay of the rest, particularly the two who tripped on their fallen comrade - Kalani prepared to do the same. However, before the young merchantwoman could follow suit, blue eyes measuring distances for a throw, a low snarl caught her attention. Finding herself the target of "Baldy's" attention, his venomous words had her sending an icy glare right back at him. Recognizing that a throw from this distance would be useless since he had managed to get so close, Kalani tensed herself even further, flexing her wrist slightly. Just a little closer and she could clout him in the head with one of the papayas she held. Not dodge ball after all, for her. At least, not at the moment.

Jaw tightened at the implied threat to Maeve, not to mention whatever it was that he was not saying in regards to herself. Were she back home, he would never have dared address her in such a fashion if he wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders. But this wasn't the land of her birth and no longer was she the ward of a king. Just a simple merchant. Easy prey, perhaps was his thought. The way he was looking her over made her skin crawl, but Kalani held herself erect, not wavering for an instant. Blue eyes were utterly frigid as the bald thug inched forward a little more, almost within range for her to strike. However, before the brunette could slam her papaya weapon into the side of the drunkard's head, a tall obstruction proved to be a shield between herself and her intended target. That shield being her companion, Majid. Stilling so as not to accidentally clout the newly-made friend she'd become acquainted with just that morning, the young merchantwoman released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Much as it would have been a vindictive pleasantry to fell that smug-looking beast - for the second time that morning, by a woman - she would be lying to say she didn't appreciate a barricade between herself and that ugly leer that set her skin to crawling.

Thus relieved of having to deal with the bald-headed leader of the thugs, Kalani let a quick glance fill her in on what was going on. While Majid and drunken brute were locked in silent combat of wills, there were still the five comrades to be dealt with. One might have been knocked down by a well-aimed papaya from Maeve, but the two that had tripped on their comrade were on their feet by now. And the two that had been lucky enough to avoid falling had gotten closer. Not too close yet, seemingly waiting on some sort of signal from their leader. Which seemed to come with the angry bellow of the brute facing Majid. Picking out the closest of the lot as bedlam broke out, Kalani shifted her position enough to be able to aim in a way to avoid hitting either of her friends. Then she cast the papaya hard, though the faint sound of its passage through the air was inaudible in the chaos of sound. While she unfortunately missed getting the drunkard between the eyes, she did successfully hit his nose, the impact of the fruit enough to crunch delicate bones and cartilage. He fell back with a howl, clutching at his nose, blood spurting between his fingers. Focused on keeping track of each threat, she paid his bellowed threats little heed for the moment, seeing as he had fallen back. It was his comrades that were more worrisome for the time being. The odds were better than they had been when Maeve had first been confronted by the pack of thugs, but still were not ideal...

[Caipra]

Even if she knew Maeve's strenght, Caipra wasn't sure that the young sorceress could take care of those men by herself, unarmed, above all.

The old sorceress couldn't hide her surprise when a young lady appeared, next to Maeve, quickly followed by a tall man she recognize to be a merchant of the city.
Without knowing them, neither knowing why they were helping the red-head, Caipra felt glad to see them here. Three against those ruffians would be a fairest fight.
Because the fight was now inevitable.

Caipra was already seeing Ziad getting angry against them, for causing troubles once again in his city. Another subject she would have to deal with later on, if he ever hear about it.

For now she focused on the fight happening in front of her. Staying immobile when friends needed help was not part of her habits. She was looking for some weakness on the baddies that she could exploit, when an idea came in her mind.

She mentally called Dermott, who was still on the bench on the other side of the alleyway, and she asked him to fly in circle above the market place.
Then, using her powers, she started a small gust of wind, blowing sand toward the ruffians's eyes, to distract them.

Now she hoped she would have earned enough time for Sinbad and his friends to notice Dermott in the sky and to head to where he stood.

If Maeve and Caipra couldn't join the crew, then maybe the crew could join the witches.

[Maeve]

Everything was happening at the speed of sound in the alleyway and Maeve’s mind was spinning on a wheel. The thugs who hadn’t tripped kept on advancing but as Kalani was about to throw the papayas Maeve had shoved into her hands, Baldy came up on his feet with an angry growl and his fuzzy attention centered on the beautiful merchant woman. Hungrily eying her up and down, he addressed her with the same wicked eyes and smirk he had directed at Maeve only moments before. Driven with the desire to wipe his vicious expression off his face, and with a new and ready papaya already in hand, Maeve would have gladly whacked him again but a tall man in black robes suddenly stepped out of nowhere and shielded Kalani from the ruffian. Having no idea who he was and with no time to make guesses, the fact that he stood before Kalani to protect her was plenty enough for Maeve. It appeared, by some miracle, that the odds were turning in her favor.

For a split of second time seemed to stand still as Baldy’s gang of thugs waited for their leader’s reaction to the mysterious man’s objection, gauging if they could attack or if they should retreat. By the roar he let out in unleashed fury, it became quite clear that Baldy—whose real name Maeve missed amidst the buzzing in her head—was not going anywhere. In fact, he ragingly unsheathed his sword and dove for the dark-robed man.

As tension exploded, Kalani swiftly threw a papaya at the charging thugs—the three Maeve had sent down were already up--and broke one’s nose with an accurate shot. However, unaffected, his four comrades ignored him as he stumbled back and with their swords ready to draw blood, they finally closed the distance separating them from the two women. They launched forward. Simultaneously though, a whirling gust of wind rose and blew sand in the air. Maeve shielded her eyes but the mysterious wind, which had a life of its own, thrust the sand in the wild brute’s direction. As they wailed back in pain as the tiny grains stung their eyes, Maeve instantly knew that the only person who could have conjured up that jolting breeze was Caipra, wherever she was. She inwardly thanked the old sorceress for the few precious seconds she bought them, for it gave her and Kalani just enough time to brace themselves.

Indeed, when they could see again, the ruffians lunged forward with furious bellows.

Two burly and hairy ruffians threw themselves at her. One swung his sword at her mid-section and as she jumped back to avoid being slashed in two, Maeve nearly lost her footing as she stepped on shards of pottery that cut and scratched her soles. But she had no time to wince in pain because her other boorish opponent, growling in blind rage, swung his sword as well and tried to hack her in two. Maeve ducked out of the way and his blade cut into the fruit stall of a terrorized little merchant, sending a cascade of apples tumbling down in the alley like a river of blood. Crimson with heated-fury at having missed his target, the hairy brute gave her no quarters and lunged again. Maeve’s mind raced as she kept stumbling back to avoid his blows as well as the slashes of his comrade. She hadn’t been involved in a fight for a year. Her skills were rusty and her reflexes had trouble adjusting, not to mention the fact that she was seeing double whenever she turned her head too abruptly, making it look as if she was battling four men instead of two.

As people shouted all around, mothers wailing in fright, merchants yelling in anger and others running for their lives, Maeve fought to focus through the dizziness harassing her and had no choice but to deal with the terror of fainting at any moment. With the vertigo, she lost track of space. It was chaos everywhere and even if she knew they were probably mere steps away from her, she couldn’t see Baldy, or Kalani, or the man in black. Not knowing if the merchant woman had any fighting abilities, Maeve hoped she was alright and that the mysterious man was protecting her. But that was assuming the man himself had fighting abilities and that Baldy hadn’t shred him to pieces in his outburst of rage.

Raising his sword above his head once more, one of the thugs pursuing her tried to slice off her arm but Maeve dove out of the way just in time, only to end up cornered against a wall. Not losing a second, her other burly attacker swung his sword up high to chop her head off but swiftly ducking down, Maeve immediately came back up and using the man’s momentum, she backhanded him across the face. As his head twisted with the unexpected blow, she didn’t wait; grabbing his sword, she kicked him down. She whirled around just in time to block her second attacker’s blow as he lunged for her ribs. Twirling his blade down, she then rammed the hilt of her sword in his face. The man fell backward with a cry of pain.

As wooziness assailed her like a tidal wave, Maeve grunted at the shards of pottery once again scratching her bare feet. She had no time to catch her breath though. Her first attacker was already coming to and although she now wielded his weapon, it only fed his anger all the more. Back on his feet, the thug grabbed one of the wooden tarp poles of a booth to his left and ragingly yanked it free, causing the installation to collapse onto itself and pour its merchandise into the already chaotic mess of the alley with a crash. Holding the pole in both hands, he broke it in two on his knee and advanced on her with venom in his eyes. Maeve struggled with great effort to deflect his persistent double thrusts as he charged at her through the jumble of jewelry, clothes and fancy items of all sorts on the ground. She came close to tripping and stumbling with every backward step she took.

Maeve’s vision was beginning to blur and she could feel the blood pumping at the base of skull. She didn’t know how long she would be able to hold on like this and it scared the wits out of her.

[Dermott]

With his sharp senses stretched to the core, the hawk’s gaze was fixed on the bald men harassing his sister. He was ready to take flight and attack him, so to give Maeve the time to escape, but suddenly, people started to gather around the scene, and with Dermott’s helpless dismay, to press towards each other. With such a little range of open space to fly, it would have been difficult to aim at the drunk men and at the same time avoid to hurt innocent people by mistake.


His worries were interrupted by the arrival of a dark haired woman, somehow familiar, who had walked the street to place herself by Maeve’s side, followed by a tall man in black who shielded the two with his own body.

The relief of not having his sister facing this dangerous challenge by herself, let him loose enough anxiety to give a look around, and check if Caipra was okay. She left them before the arrival of the offenders, and he wondered if she was among the crowd. As soon as his attention was on her, the wise sorceress spoke to him mentally, and then he knew what to do.


In the blink of an eye he was up in the sky, right above the area when the quarrel was taking place, circling around the bunch of drunken men. Looking at the scene below, he took him very little to realize that the providential help his sister just received wouldn’t have been sufficient in the long run. Even if the tall man looked fierce and strong, the girls were not armed, and Maeve was still barely standing on her feet. The numbers were unbalanced, and Dermott was aware they needed more help. So he did the only thing in his power to be of assistance in this situation, starting to dig inwardly in search for that familiar presence he failed to perceive all day long.




And for the first time since the voices of nature had shut down, he finally found her. Her feelings of worry, and quizzical concern hit him with relief, as he realized she was awake. The last time he saw her, she was laying unconscious at the “Crown of Ogotay”, and he left to scout the city in order to find out more about what stroke her so hard.

“Bryn”

Whispered the hawk as their mental link slowly reconnected. It was a feeble sensation at the beginning, but it kept on growing stronger as they gradually restored their connection. And at that point, as they were used to do whenever one of the crew members was in danger, he send her a mental picture of the ongoing battle, sharing both images and sensations.



All of a sudden, a breeze of magic wind struck the thugs pouring sand into their eyes. While keeping on flying, Dermott moved his sight on a particular point in the middle of the crowd, where, with a inner giggle spotted Caipra looking at him with a knowing smile.

Right after, his attention was captured by the young brunette throwing fruits at one of the brutes, and then he had an straight away moment of recognition. It was Kalani, one of the most trusted merchants the Nomad was used to trade with. He would have identified her first if it hadn’t been for the commotion.



But he couldn’t finish his train of thoughts, as an abrupt mix of pain, distress and dizziness blew him like a dagger, cutting hastily his mental-bond with Bryn. They could still sense each other’s presence, but the shared vision was gone.

With dreaded anticipation the hawk shifted his focus towards the source of the soreness, already knowing with despair that Maeve’s condition was getting worse. She was stepping backward as one of the felons had advanced on her with a dead glare.

Without even thinking anymore about the people on the scene, the bird of prey nose-dived upon him with fierce rage. And while the drunkard desperately tried to shield his eyes with his bare hands, he peremptory spoke in Maeve’s mind “Move aside! Try to regain your strength”



He could still feel Bryn’s presence in the near surroundings. She was near, and able to find his position. She was approaching. And hopefully, she was not alone.

[everyone]

Majid



Only subconsciously did Majid notice how Kalani turned behind his back and made sure that the ruffians approaching from the other side wouldn't come to close. Too focused was he on the man who now leapt in his direction, his physical strength and statute being his biggest advantage against the merchant.
Narrowing his eyes Majid tensed, his dark gaze never leaving the bald man whose right hand now drew his sword to use it as a deadly weapon. With blind rage deciding his movements the other one missed on one important detail though, and that was the slightly curved scimitar which was firmly attached to his opponent's belt and partly covered by his night-coloured robes. And thus it came as a surprise to him when suddenly its silvery blade glistened in the bright sun, its owner wielding it swiftly to meet the blow and use the momentum to guide Hakit's sword downwards while Majid himself completed a half-circle with his arm and thus yanked his opponent's hand to the site.

While the bald man's eyes widened in surprise, a furious growl escaping his throat at the same time, the merchant brought his blade back up to block the move the other one he knew was bound to make. Just as Hakit began to haul his own weapon towards the merchant again, Majid's armoured hand skirted his body and catching up with the brute's weapon he forced the other man to turn on his heals if the same wanted to keep his balance.
Facing away from the two women now, 'Baldy' grunted as he almost toppled over but in the end was able to avoid the fall. For a short moment he lingered in this position as ragged breaths escaped his lungs.

"You", he hissed through gritted teeth, "will regret that!"

Too quick for Majid to prevent it, as the last of those words left his lips the thug suddenly straightened up again and forced the blade to arch upwards, aiming for the merchant's chest. The blow was surprisingly well-measured, too well in fact, and although Majid hurried to step aside he knew he would not be able to escape it completely if not by some miracle the drunkard was forced to change direction of his strike. And as if sent by the Gods he worshipped a strong gust of wind suddenly passed them by, the sand it carried whirling violently around the two combatants.

Hakit missed by mere inches while he shut his eyes, screaming furiously as the grit stung the soft tissue. While his attacker's sword raced past him, the tall merchant exhaled sharply, preparing his body to strike when he knew that he had to be fast. And as the ruffian was bound to the laws of his movement, Majid flexed his wrist, and hauled his scimitar to meet the other one's sword with a piercing sound. Accelerating the momentum of Baldy's blade the same began to slip from the drunken man's grip and with a final turn down to the ground Majid yanked the deadly item free.
The short sword met the soil with a muffled thud while its owner was having a hard time processing what had just happened.

Within a heartbeat's time Majid spun around, his hand turning the weapon it held, and with often-trained precision he used the handle of his scimitar to clout Hakit in the side of the head.
While the ruffian's sword came to rest in the sand beneath their feet, the bald man himself grunted before his legs finally gave way and he sank to the dust-covered street.

Panting, Majid rested for a second. His dark eyes quickly assessed the other man's condition and while he had made sure not to use too much force as to cause any serious injuries, he liked to be certain that the aggressive thug wouldn't come to too soon.
His attention however was drawn from the still form on the ground when he noticed something rush past him, a shadow so familiar and yet unknown to him that his instincts had him whirl around and look for the small falcon that he had left to guard his stand. But what he saw instead was a desert hawk that shot out of nowhere as it seemed and aimed straight at two of the men who were loyal to their drunken leader.

The target's painful scream rang through the air as the bird's claws met his vulnerable face and the thug backed up, almost running his companion over as he stumbled backwards in agony and surprise.
Majid's gaze focused on the two for a second then, before straying to the red-headed woman who was the reason why his fellow merchant had dragged both of them into this fight. It didn't take the tall man long to realize she was exhausted, the faint colour of her skin being too pale even for her people.
She wouldn't hold out much longer.
But, and he noticed that too, she had managed to nick a sword and obviously knew how to use it, too, as he could assess by the way she held it firmly and yet not too tight as to hinder its swing.
She would be fine for the minute if only her feathered companion supported her. It were two men against a young woman and a bird of prey. But the odds were definitely better than Kalani's.

His heart skipping a beat, Majid realized that if only two of the brutes had decided to aim on the tall Celt, his own companion was left to fight off the other three.
A fight the young brunette could hardly win unless her looks deceived him and she was well trained in combat. But choosing not to take a chance, he spun around and let his near-to-black eyes search for the young woman.

---

[Kalani]

With one down, it seemed there were still four ruffians charging forwad. Not the best of odds, when at the moment neither Kalani nor Maeve were armed - unless you counted their papayas as weapons, though the fruit had come in useful thus far already. Tensing, fingers gripping a papaya and ready to use it in some way or another, a sudden wind had her shielding her face - though the drunken brutes were not so lucky, their pained wails eloquently indicating the effectiveness of this sudden wind that seemed almost an non-human ally. A brief glance was cast Maeve's direction, wondering if it had been the Celtic sorceress who had conjured such a wind, but there was little time for further thought or question in that vein. That wind might have bought them a moment or two to brace themselves for the conflict, but the drunkards were recollecting themselves quickly and it would only be a matter of seconds before they were charging once more. In those last few seconds, Kalani once more sought with her eyes anything further that could be used as a weapon to augment the papaya she already held. A glimpse of pottery shards had her leaning quickly to grab a large piece of such, hoping that it might be useful against their drunken assailants.

And then came the charge that had been anticipated and complete bedlam ensued.

There was a single heartbeat to note two of the thugs had lunged at Maeve, obviously intent on blood, but there was no time to ponder this any longer than the brief blink of an eye. For the other two - egged on by their broken-nosed comrade, who was hurling invectives her direction with venomous fury and whom also wouldn't likely stay out of the conflict for long - were headed in direction. Clearly infuriated that what had seemed an easy enough task of taking advantage of a lone woman had become so much more complicated, there was nothing in their eyes at the moment but an obvious intent to do harm. Blue eyes slit in concentration, focus narrowing in for the moment on the two closest ruffians and the bloody-nosed comrade only hanging back for the time being. Of the two charging, one had closed the distance more rapidly than his drunken compatriot and slashed violently at her with his sword. Kalani had to dance backward quickly to avoid harm, and there was little opportunity just yet to use either of the unorthodox weapons she gripped.

The second thug moved in while his comrade was trying to regain his balance and as he raised his sword for a tremendous swing, Kalani was wishing for a sword in hand. It might have been years since she had wielded one - and even then, it had only been in playful sparring with her foster brother - but there would have been some comfort to be had in such a weapon when faced with these brutes. She did her best to keep track of her surroundings, to use the terrain to her advantage - she could still remember such advice from Cadfael when they had sparred - though automatically trying to avoid the stalls of various merchants, though the endeavour was quite difficult in this crowded street where so many were located. As it was, she had to do a great deal of ducking and weaving, avoiding the violently swinging blade by mere hairsbreadth more than once. She was certainly wishing she had kept up with some sort of combat practice since leaving her homeland, for it most definitely would have been handy in a situation like this.

No point wishing for what could have been. There would be time enough for that later, when this was all over. Focus needed to be on the here and now. That reminder was reinforced in reality when she felt her back against the white stone of a wall. Grimacing a little, not liking at all the triumphant gleam in the eyes of her assailants, relief came from an odd source. Eager to avenge his broken nose, the third ruffian who had, until now, been holding back, shoved his comrades aside in order to be the first to get at the slender merchantwoman. That heartbeat of brief bickering between the trio was just the advantage she needed. Once again bringing a papaya into play, she cast, aiming purposefully for the thug's nose this time. At this distance, it would have been impossible to miss and another howl of agony erupted from the man whose nose had already been broken once. He again shoved one of his comrades, this time at the brunette in the hopes that the other drunkard would have better success. Fortunately for Kalani, that push had unbalanced the ruffian and he missed completely, blade bouncing harmlessly against the wall beside her. Not waiting, in that brief instance his limb was in reach, she lashed out with the shard of pottery.

Miraculously, her timing was just right and the sharp edge of the pottery shard sliced deep into the arm of the thug. Kalani hardly heard his cry of pained rage, so focused was she. As it was, she had to duck to avoid the third ruffian - also urged onward by the twice-bloody-nosed comrade - but managed to also time the motion enough to seize the sword that had been dropped by the other when she'd wounded his arm. Though she heard a tear to the hem of her skirt with the rolling motion of avoiding getting sliced by either of the armed thugs, there was little time to worry about the condition her dress might end up in as this fight continued. Now properly armed - even if the blade was nothing like the finely-crafted weapons she had used when she was younger - Kalani felt a little more confident. Even so, as the trio of angry thugs began closing in again - more furious than before with two of their number marred with injuries dealt out by the brunette - the slender young merchant was at that moment very much wishing that her sparring skills were not so rusty....

[Majid]

Majid's gaze flitted through the crowded street where dust mixed with broken viands and crashed pottery.
Merchants taking cover behind or leaving their stands in a hurry clouded the alleyway, their fleeing bodies creating a maze that seemed to blur the traces of the young brunette and the three men who he knew must have followed her. The tall merchant felt how the air left his lungs in shallow breaths as he turned once more, narrowing his eyes and straining to hear any sounds that might tell of their whereabouts.
Eventually, he perceived it. A piercing cry of pain and anger that he knew would have to belong to one of the ruffians. And tilting his head swiftly into the direction the voice had come from, Majid finally spotted her.

Kalani stood with her back to the wall, her silken dress now covered with an ever so faint layer of dust, and a sword in her hands. Much to his relief she seemed unharmed whereas one of her attackers sported a very bloody nose.
Majid couldn't help the tiny smile which tugged at the edges of his lips as he drew the conclusion that his companion obviously had made good use of the papaya after all, but as quickly is it appeared it was gone again - his attention returning to the scene these few feets up the street.
By the way the young brunette held the weapon that he reasoned she had taken off the ruffian who now stood unarmed in front of her, the merchant could tell that this was not the first time she handled a sword. However, the grip she had on it just wasn't quite right and he knew she would have troubles blocking a fierceful swing, did any of the other men come close enough. With fury enforcing their every move, there was no doubt that they would not show mercy on any one who crossed their path. Least of all the one who they had thought to be such easy prey.

And thus Majid ran.

Like a shadow he passed the alley, his steps carrying him quickly to where Kalani stood. His eyes were fixed on the brutes who advanced with dangerous speed, their weapons now raising to deal fatal blows. The two silvery blades whistled menacingly as they cut the air beneath them, deeming their fate to be fulfilled within a heartbeat.
For just one instant the world seemed to stand still as Majid watched Kalani's attackers lunge out, their swords racing down to meet the young brunette's slender form.
A target however they would not succed to hit.
The dull scream of his scimitar interfering with the drunkards' deadly blades rang through the morning air as the merchant finally reached the scene. Whirling his own blade to the left first, he blocked the outermost attacker's blow before he quickly changed direction and brought his scimitar up to meet the nasally impaired ruffian's strike. The man howled with fury as he came face to face with Majid, his task of revenge becoming more complicated with each minute that passed by.
"Hakit will make you pay for that", he suddenly spat before backing a bit, his sword detaching from Majid's as he did so. The drunken man's gaze strayed to Kalani for a second before he bellowed.
"He will make you both pay!"
And then he growled very much like their leader had before, only that with him it sounded less threatening, his physical statute being nothing like the other's. Still Majid knew that his rage was dangerous and the other men not to be underestimated. Briefly he glanced at the young woman next to him and sent her an almost imperceptible nod. It were now two against three. The odds could have been better, but so much worse, too.

[Maeve]

With no time to catch her breath, Maeve danced with her sword to counter the on-going charges of her opponent. It wasn’t so much the thug’s fighting skills that were draining her down—she had battled many deadlier foes in her life; it was the infuriated strength he poured into each blow. The man, with his face contorted with hot ferocity and self-driven by cries of rage, seemed to be unleashing months and months of bottled up rage on her. Each forceful strike he directed her way with his two wood poles and that which she barely managed to block with her blade sent vibrations all the way up her arms into her neck. With her current exhaustion her muscles were quickly losing their rapidity to react, but Maeve knew if she so much as lost focus for a split of seconds it would be the end of her.

In his rushing series of attacks, the mad ruffian forcefully swung down one of the wood poles and caught the side of her knee. As Maeve yelped in pain and almost tripped on pots and kettles, simultaneously a familiar screech echoed in her ears. She looked up to see Dermott diving to her rescue toward her opponent and in a flutter of wings and claws, assailing the man’s head and face vigorously. He shouted for her to get a grip while he kept the furious brute busy.

In other circumstances Maeve would have argued with stubbornness and false pride that she was fine, not to mention her worry for her brother when he put himself in danger to protect her, but this time she shut her mouth and did as he says. Panting, she grabbed a hold of the closest stall counter she could find and shut her eyes closed, fighting to chase away the waves of dizziness coursing through her neck and skull. The obnoxious drowsy feeling mixed with the adrenaline pumping in her veins was an overwhelming, contradicting sensation. Her whole body was on shut-down alert yet her survival instincts were holding her up with a fierce grip. Maeve tried to steady her breathing. She had never been sea-sick in her entire life but now she was beginning to get a taste of what it felt like as her stomach twisted in a knot. Knuckles turning white as she gripped the counter to stay on her feet, Maeve’s heart was thundering so hard in her ribcage she feared it was going to explode with the frantic exertion. She wished she would just faint already and be done with it all.

Glass shattered. Eyes darting to the sound with all the alertness she could muster, Maeve saw her second attacker rush past a fine artisanal booth where people staggered away in fright. He strolled in her direction, sword tight in hand, and in the blink of an eye he was on her. Maeve’s reflexes kicked in again despite the vertigo spins in her head. The ringing of steel filled the air as their swords collided in a display of deadly strikes, and Maeve realized for the first time that ever since the two thugs had charged towards her, they had been driving her away from the center of the lane where the whole conflict had begun and where Kalani and the man in black probably still were. She needed to get back there. Three against six weren’t terrible odds. It was a fight Maeve believed they could easily win if they each had good enough skills to defend themselves. She hoped Kalani and the man in black possessed those skills, and although she was pretty sure the latter did she also believed that Kalani would autonomously manage to fend for herself. Maeve sensed the blue-eyed woman wasn’t one to run away from danger simply out of fear; she was a woman who would face the threat if need be and react to it, something she had proven when she stood by Maeve’s side.

As for her own skills and condition, Maeve didn’t know how long the adrenaline would keep her on the side of consciousness but as long as she could stay on her two feet she would fight with all she had, tooth and nail, and with her last breath. However, if Kalani, the man in black and herself were scattered in opposite directions and isolated from each other, the thugs would take advantage and it would all be for naught. They needed to join forces on the same front. Only then did they have a chance.

Countering the ruffian’s blade above her head, Maeve twirled it around and changed position with him so that she would be stepping back towards the merchant woman and her mysterious protector. Moving with cautious steps to avoid tripping over anything on the cluttered market ground, she let her sword waltz with her opponent’s. At least her sword-fighting abilities didn't seem to be as rusty as she had previously feared. When the burly brute showed a weak opening, Maeve kicked him in the stomach. As he doubled over, she grabbed him by the back of his collar and with a grunt, shoved him into an ascending staircase shadowed between two buildings. Wheeling on her eels, she then focused her attention on the thug Dermott was still clawing. If the mugger tried to get a go at him, her brother’s delicate bird frame wouldn’t survive it. Picking up one of the wood poles the man had dropped at the surprise aerial attack mere minutes ago, Maeve swung it at his mid-section, knocking the wind out of him, and then jammed the hilt of her sword at the base of his skull to send him down.

Head spinning, she glanced between the ruffian at her feet and the one sprawled in the nearby stairs. She estimated it would be some time before they collected their bearings and were able to stand again. Gritting her teeth, a whirl of dizziness crashed on her. Maeve blinked a couple of times and fought to suppress the feeling.

She looked up at Dermott. “Are the others all right?”

She hoped they were. She needed to get to them and put an end to this mess before it got out of proportions, if it didn’t already have as it was…