Crossing blades

[Maeve]

Quickly stealing another worried glance at the duel to check on Sinbad, Maeve felt like a ticking time bomb. She could feel her heart thump loudly in her chest like the hooves of a racing horse and the pressure inside her skull was so strong she feared her blood vessels might rupture. It was excruciating. She wished she could just lie down and sleep, but when she noticed that Sinbad was slowly getting the upper hand in the fight, with Baldy showing signs of weariness for the first time, Maeve felt her determination flare up anew like a bonfire. Not just because the giant’s almighty strength actually seemed to be weakening, proving that he wasn’t invincible and that he could be defeated, but because Sinbad was smiling. He was smiling at her. She couldn’t fathom why, but he was, and it lifted her heart so much that her lips instantly curved into a contagious smile in response. She couldn’t recall the last time she had smiled like this, so heartfelt and genuine and natural, but she distinctly remembered that back in the realm, there had been moments when she would have killed to see Sinbad smile like this.

As a warming sensation spread inside her chest though, uplifting and wonderful, Maeve realized how totally foreign the smile on her lips felt. Not because it had been so long since the last time she had smiled in such a fashion, but because it felt like stepping through an old creaking door, inside an old house that once used to be your home: despite the lingering memories that gave the place a familiar and comforting feel, it still felt as if time and dust had rendered everything distant and alien. It was a contradicting feeling and with that smile, Maeve felt like she was just beginning to step through that door, back into the beloved world she had left behind a year ago and that had changed so much while she was gone.

But she didn’t have time to dwell any further on the matter because the sharp clashes of steel brought her back to the nerve-wracking present, which served to remind her that she would never get to reunite with that long lost world unless Baldy wasn’t taken care of. That alarming notion sent her mind back on track in a flash.

Hurriedly, trying to make every second count, Maeve yanked her eyes away from the dueling men and turned her attention back to the weapon’s stall. Trying desperately to keep her wits about her despite the rumbling waves of vertigo in her head, she leaned further over the counter and stretched her neck to survey what lay behind the booth. Her eyes immediately caught sight of a number of crates and chests stocked in a row, right under a bunch of handcrafted shields of all sizes, colors and shapes hung up on the wall.

Not losing an instant, Maeve shoved her sword back on the counter with his lethal companions and, using the wooden posts on the left side of the booth for balance, squeezed herself behind the stall and disappeared from the alleyway. In a flash, she went to her knees before the closest chest she could reach. Lifting the heavy lid up, she let it bang on the wall behind and set to work without delay, fighting to ignore how good it felt to be off her poor scratched feet. Hands shaking as the dizziness weighed in her mind like a heavy fog, Maeve rummaged through the content of the chest like a mad woman, her fingers trying to grope at the things buried deeper. Tossing out a bundle of heavy chainmail, a black leather baldric and a boxed set of small red-fletched darts that were in the way, her heart skipped a beat when she saw what lay under.

At last. Now, she was getting somewhere. Now, she could be useful and make a stand. She could force Baldy to surrender without stepping directly into harm’s way.

Fingers curling around the weapon, Maeve lifted it out of the chest. Thankful to see that it was already charged and ready to fire with a short, metal-tipped arrow, she nonetheless retrieved two spare arrows from the chest, just in case the actual threat of the crossbow wasn’t enough to scare Baldy into declaring forfeit. She honestly hoped things wouldn’t come down to the point where she actually had to use the weapon. She didn’t want to kill Baldy. She just wanted him to surrender and to leave them be. But if he hurt Sinbad, Maeve would show him no mercy.

Stifling a groan against the soreness of every muscle in her body, it took Maeve a formidable amount of will and strength just to lift herself up from the ground and scramble back to her painful feet. When she was back on her wobbly legs, she saw stars. Her head felt warm and heavy as a firework of sparkling little silver dots danced in her vision while blood rushed up to irrigate her head. Gritting her teeth together, Maeve shook the weird feeling off and squeezed herself back to the front of the booth and into the alleyway. There was no time to lose.

Positioning herself in the middle of the narrow lane, locking her knees in place to firmly anchor her weary legs on the ground and keep from plummeting forward, Maeve’s eyes went straight to the two men fighting a couple of feet before her. Their blades were still clashing together amidst occasional punches here and well-aimed kicks there. They looked intently bent on taking the other down no matter what, like two lions fighting over a piece of meat. There was no doubt in Maeve’s mind that Baldy thought of her as such, but she knew that Sinbad didn’t. He was fighting to protect her and keep her safe. And this messy quarrel had gone on long enough.

As she clutched the two spare arrows in her left fist, quickly and carefully, Maeve hoisted the weapon in place and rested the stock of the crossbow against her right shoulder. Tilting her chin down, she aligned her vision with the straight line of the short, deadly arrow. Blinking the dizziness away as best as she could, she let her fingers wrap around the triggering lever, ready to press and fire.

Waiting fixedly like a falcon ready to dive on its prey, Maeve watched as Baldy staggered back a step from one of Sinbad’s blows. As he regained his balance and gathered his fury for an avenging swing, his blade rose in the air and caught the sun’s reflection.

But Maeve would not let him complete the strike.

With a detonating click followed by a swift whoosh, the crossbow released the arrow. The metal tip sharply collided with Baldy’s blade at the spot closest to the hilt and, under the resonating and surprisingly powerful impact, twisted out of the grip of its owner, the sword clanked to the ground.

Everything seemed to come to an abrupt halt as the alleyway turned dreadfully silent.

Empty-handed and stunned, Baldy’s head snapped in her direction. Unflinching, the second arrow already notched in place and ready to shoot, Maeve held his dark gaze with a dangerous edge in her voice.

“Back away from him,” Maeve warned him gravely to step away from Sinbad, grim resolve plastered on her features to make sure he wouldn’t think she was making an empty threat. “or next time I won’t miss.”

[Sinbad]

Movements, steps, lashes, all that had become a wild blur of determination mixed with protective anger, not the unhinged almost animalistic wrath that had come over him in past months sometimes, guided by a bottomless feeling o floss, but a determination with a true source. He had to protect her, much as he knew her dislike for such a mindset.

Baldy had shown signs of weakness and Sinbad had been able to drive him away from the stalls behind which Maeve had disappeared, still the brute kept the captain so busy he had been unable to turn and see what she was up to, but since she was not in his field of vision and Baldy was, she had seemed out of harm´s way for now and that had been enough for him to know. He had focused his dwindling energies on the other man, hoping and seeing that the guy´s own strengths were failing.

By now the captain had believed himself on the winning side. Another blow and another, resonating, thrumming painfully through his right arm, but he was winning. Until his opponent had raised his arm again in that way that shows a last willing of strength and efforts, one last momentously powerful, desperate strike. And the moment that Sinbad had seen the man´s muscles tightening he had realized that he might not be able to escape it this time, feet stemmed against the ground, too unflexible to react with the speed he would need. Still he had made that probably too weak leap to the side, an attempt to avoid a desperate last strike of a dwindling opponent… and Maeve´s bolt, slamming against the blade and diverting its course had saved him. The probably fatal strike did not come, the brute´s arm smacking into nowhere.

Sinbad´s head whipped around, his own sword arm half raised in a now unnecessary attempt to block the other´s blade. What he saw gave him something he had not felt in over a year. That fierce, feeling of pride he always got when she took a stand like that. Resolve edged on her face, mirroring that look he must have had on his face moments ago.

The scene seemed to come to an abrupt standstill around them for what seemed like a long moment, then his instincts kicked in. He felt his stance react as his sword hand swiped up, with a swift tap made Baldy lose grip of the hilt of his. The ugly broad sword of the ruffian clattered into the mud, a very reluctant defeat, especially since the other´s eyes were speaking murder. Sinbad didn´t care. “I´d be careful.” he said, his own blade moving to rest lightly under the brute´s chin. “She can be feisty. I´d not test her.”

[Maeve]

Still registering what had just happened to make the outcome of the battle shift so unexpectedly at his expense, Baldy was fuming. As the muscles and tendons in his neck stretched from the exertion of the fight, a fight which he still looked quite determined to win, Maeve could see the undying, everlasting fury in his shabby features. His gaze was jumping back and forth between her crossbow and the sword resting under his chin, but even if he knew he was cornered and weaponless, there was a keen calculation in his icy eyes as he seemed to debate whether or not he had a chance of deflecting Sinbad’s arm away.

After a brief moment, probably reasoning that such a bold move was too risky and that his opponent wouldn’t hesitate to finish him off if he attempted anything, Baldy turned his attention on her instead. His cold, vicious eyes bore the trace of challenge. “She ain’t going to shoot me.” He was replying to Sinbad’s warning but his sharp, dark gaze was riveted on her. “If she wanted to kill me she would have done it by now, right, sweetheart?”

Still as a statue, clutching the crossbow against her shoulder with the second arrow ready to fire at any moment, Maeve glowered back at him. She didn’t know what Baldy was trying to do, buy time maybe, or trick her into doing a mistake, but she wouldn’t play his game, especially since he was right; if she had wanted to kill him she would have aimed for his heart and he would be dead. She could still kill him in the blink of an eye by pressing the triggering lever but she had no intention of doing that. All she wanted was to put an end to the threat he posed, both to her, to Sinbad, and to the rest of the market place. More to the point, she didn’t know how long her legs would still support her. She had to end this mess now before she lost whatever fading grip she still had on the conscious world.

Catching sight of a thick roll of rope resting on a crate behind the giant off to the right, Maeve held Baldy’s glare with iron resolve. He may not believe she had the nerve to kill him, but she had every intention of showing him that he had lost and that it was over, once and for all. “Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your back.”

[Sinbad]

Sinbad had encountered people like him before. The kind of ruthless thug that would rather bite off their own tongues than to admit defeat or even fear. They were dangerous, never to be underestimated and therefore, even though his eyes briefly travelled towards Maeve to follow what she was doing, he didn’t lower his weapon. “I´d not count on that.” He said with the hint of an angry smirk. “but I promise you, if you don´t believe her threat, which would be foolish to do, you´d better believe mine.” And with that he put a little bit more pressure on his grip, moving the tip of the blade just a fraction of an inch but nonetheless forcing Baldy to raise his chin a bit with a defiant growl.

“You´re gonna regret that you filthy little rat.” He spat and it was unclear who the insult was directed at, but another slight move of Sinbad´s sword made him change his mind (or begrudgingly admit the situation he was in) so he moved his hands, but just an inch.

[Maeve]

When Sinbad ever so slightly pressed the tip of his sword more firmly under Baldy’s chin to silence him and so that he would mark his previous words, which elicited the angry giant to meekly begin to move his hands behind his back like she had ordered him to, Maeve tightened her grip on the crossbow. It was clear to her that Baldy was just trying to buy himself some time until he could figure a way out of his cornered situation, a way to somehow wrench Sinbad’s sword away and use it against him, a way to somehow evade her next arrow, a way to get the upper hand again and win the fight...But Maeve wouldn’t let him. She had had enough. No matter what he tried next, if the crossbow wasn’t enough of a threat to subdue him, then she would opt for plan B, whatever the consequences would be on her current precarious state. She didn't care what happened to her at this point, so long as Sinbad was safe in the end.

Until then though, until Baldy really did try anything, he needed to be tied up, but there was no way Maeve could get passed him to reach for the rope. If she took one single step, if she so much as moved an inch, she knew the insidious vertigo brewing in her head would drag her down in a heartbeat. That mean she was stuck where she was.

Thus, careful not to turn her head too much for fear it would stir the simmering dizziness, Maeve sought Sinbad’s gaze. “There’s some rope on a crate, behind him to the right,” she said, pointing with her chin. “I got him,” she then added to indicate that she would cover him and guard Baldy with the utmost vigilance like a hawk watching a prey, ready to strike at any moment. The giant was still standing, obviously resisting her order to get down on his knees, but that didn’t matter to Maeve anymore as she glowered back at him with unyielding resolve. Let him believe he could turn the odds in his favour. If he so much as moved, he would be down on the ground before he even knew what hit him. She was ready for plan B.

[Sinbad]

The look in her eyes, that stubborn, loyal, fierce determination didn´t make him doubt for a second that Maeve was serious about her words – dead serious and he hoped that the ruffian who was still standing, not kneeling before him, was wise enough to read her eyes and tone of voice the same way. He couldn´t say he´d be sorry if it happened otherwise, certainly not sorry for him, but he would hate unnecessary blood on Maeve´s hands. An additional burden to what he guessed must already be a difficult state. He had no idea after all what had even happened to her, but dwelling on that would have to wait till later.

Baldy´s eyes were in no way kinder than the redhead´s, his eyes briefly travelling from the young woman to the captain, eyes trailing along the blade that was still pressed against the underside of his chin, fractions away from breaking it. It would be useless waste of time and false pretense to warn the man again, Sinbad decided as he lowered his scimitar, not because he trusted in the other man´s common sense, but because he completely trusted in Maeve´s swiftness. He kept the blade half lowered only though, eyes still on his opponent as he stepped sidewards, reached into the crate and retrieved the rope. She must have seen it earlier he guessed, when she had stumbled against the stall, looking for something to defend herself with, noticing such little details even in deadly panic. He felt pride for her rise in his chest.
Sinbad´s moves were swift and calculated, the rope was in his hands and tied to a sling in moments and when he stepped behind the ruffian, the brute finally found the intelligence in him to realize that this battle was lost at least for now. He didn´t lower himself to his knees as Maeve had demanded from him a moment ago, but begrudgingly, even though not without another insult hurled into both their directions, didn´t try to kill either of them as Sinbad slung the loop around one thick wrist first, then dragged it behind the man´s back, then the other, tying a secure knot and frankly, he didn´t quite care that the coarse stuff might scratch the man´s skin.

With Maeve still standing vigil and guarding him like a hawk, Sinbad found a second rope and tied it around the man´s ankles, wide enough for him to walk, too short to allow any leaps or running or even a sprint. He had had to sheath his scimitar in the process, knowing about his vulnerability being highest when he knelt to tie the man´s feet, but in a way feeling strangely reassured by the redhead. Sinbad knew he had to hurry though, he could tell from her eyes when he briefly glanced up, that her strength was faltering. He hoped she´d not just collapse at some point before he could focus his full attention on her.

He got back to his feet and this time drew a knife from his belt, pressing its flat side against the small of the ruffian´s back as he grabbed the rope. “Let´s go for a walk, shall we?”

[Maeve]

Maeve was so tensed while Sinbad went about the task of retrieving the rope to tie up Baldy securely that she forgot to breathe. Anchored on the ground as best as could be by her locked knees to keep herself from tumbling down, she could feel every nerve and every muscle in her body ready to jolt at any sign of movement from the unpredictable giant, along with the magic within her that was slowly beginning to boil right beneath the surface, coiling and twisting as she called it forth. To hell with the new law that prohibited its use, she thought, and to hell with what it would do to her in such a weakened state. She was already on the verge of losing her grip on consciousness, unleashing a little sizzling bolt of lightning to incapacitate Baldy wouldn’t make much of a difference at this point. And it was better than killing him.

As magic twitched in the tip of her fingers, ready to be unleashed if need be to send the mountain of a man down and neutralize him in a flash, it suddenly amazed Maeve how much progress she had made with Dim-Dim this past year as he taught her everything she had left to learn about the white arts to complete her training. Whereas a year ago the simple task of summoning her gift required a great deal of concentration and focus, the magic now spurted to life within her at her wish and command, intimately linked to her instincts, her feelings and her needs, not to mention the remarkable versatility and reflexes she had acquired. After months and months of practice in the realm, she was no longer a mere apprentice learning by herself and improvising. She had become a fully fledged sorceress with swift and precise control over her powers, and if Baldy tried anything he would remember this day for the rest of his life.

Holding her breath as she watched the mighty thug unblinkingly, matching his glare and waiting for him to make a bold move, the whole situation seemed endless to Maeve, as if suspended in time, as if the moment when she could truly feel safe again and let her guard down would never come. She could almost see the tension in the air as Baldy’s piercing grey eyes silently challenged her, but finally, after a few never-ending seconds, with one last snickering smirk of defiance, the whole quarrel came to an ultimate end as he finally surrendered and let Sinbad wrap the thick rope around his wrists to bind them behind his back.

It was over.

It was finally over.

As soon as Baldy’s hands were tied—those strong meaty hands that had bruised her skin and nearly choked her to death—the weight of the world seemed to lift from Maeve’s shoulders. However, keeping her watchful brown eyes on the giant just in case as Sinbad fastened another rope around Baldy’s ankles for good measure, it was only when the captain brought his knife to the ruffian’s back that Maeve allowed the rest of her body to relax.

Lowering the crossbow, she finally started breathing again, her muscles painfully unwinding in the process, but unfortunately, the relieving sensation only lasted for a split of second. Before she could even relish in the newfound comfort of safety, not only did the rumbling dizziness return in her head, but Baldy, who resisted Sinbad’s prod onward, met her gaze and addressed her one last time, his eyes filled with evil mockery.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, you ain’t seen the last of me,” he warned her with a wicked sneer. “You still owe me a kiss.”

[Sinbad]

He had not dared to divert much of his attention while tying the ruffian´s wrists, but as soon as it was safe, Sinbad tossed a glance over at Maeve. Not without reason – he had noticed how weak she was, always trying to bear her head high of course but here eyes were slightly glazed over and her lips a bit too tightly set, her face a little bit paler than he remembered it. Now that might mean anything, including that one year less aboard the Nomad had simply left her without her usual already barely noticeable tan, but still, it was better to be careful and keep an eye on her.

When Maeve lowered the crossbow, Sinbad did not allow himself to relax. The first prod against the man´s back didn´t yield much of a reaction, other than a remark that sent the captain´s protective instincts boiling. He might be a little shorter than his opponent, but the other man´s hands were tied, it was clear who had the upper hand.

In a flash, the knife that had just rested against the man´s back moved, visible merely in a blink as the sun reflected on its blade, then it was against the brute´s throat, just at the point of cutting if the other made a careless move. “there´s going to be another kind of kiss for you, my friend, if you don´t leave the lady alone.” There was a dangerous edge in the captain´s voice, the shadow of the man he had become, yet also the protectiveness he had shown towards Maeve when she had still been onboard his ship. “Let´s move it, now.” The last word, even though not spoken in a loud voice, was determined enough to make the other man obey, begrudgingly, but still. Apparently in the end the ruffian was not stupid enough to ignore when his life was set at risk. With a low grunt, he made one step, then another, then, with another slight turn, and guided by Sinbad, made a turn towards the wide doorway at the other end of the dead end through which all of them had previously bolted.

Sinbad gave a short look at Maeve, concern visible beneath the determination, never loosening his grip on the other man, knife still against his throat. “No tricks.” He said, “you might want to know that if you try anything, the lady still has her crossbow aimed right at you. You wouldn´t make another three steps.” Well, truth be told, Maeve had just lowered it, but whether it remained that way the ruffian could not check any more with his face turned the other way. It was time, Sinbad decided as he made another step, time tog et out of here, to find a guard and to then as soon as possible make sure Maeve was all right. She did look faint and he remembered that sometimes when that had happened in the past, her magic might show. If what Caipra had told them the other day about how magic was seen in this fine city by now was anywhere near the truth, he better not let it come to this.

[Maeve]

Maeve was so tired and aching all over that she couldn’t even find the strength to glare back at Baldy as he threatened her about the kiss he had demanded earlier and had failed to get. With a blank and weary face, she simply looked back at him, head throbbing and spinning. Her mind was so dizzy that she wasn’t even able to seriously ponder on whether his threat could really be genuine or simply a mean to get under her skin one last time before the law dealt with him. Unwilling to reply to his wicked mockery, she was about to hoist the crossbow back up against her shoulder to make a point when Sinbad’s knife flashed in the air and found the giant’s throat before she could even blink.

Her muscles jolting painfully, Maeve flinched at the unexpected move. Baldy’s threatening sneer had just sent a cold shiver down her spine, but Sinbad’s warning was even more dangerous, with anger and protectiveness shining in his eyes as the giant’s life hung by a thread under the blade of his knife. Maeve hoped for Sinbad’s sake that Baldy would just shut up for good, or else she doubted the massive ruffian would it make it out of the alleyway alive. Luckily for all of them though, despite how satisfied he looked with himself about the last threat he had managed to issue against her, Baldy seemed to grasp the precariousness of his predicament and this time, when he was prodded onward again, he offered no resistance and let himself be directed out of the dead end.

Meeting Sinbad's eyes as he warned the gruff man of the lethal presence of her crossbow in case he decided to try anything, Maeve would have gladly raised the weapon up again, but as he walked further away from her with every step he took, her mind went reeling. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t follow him. If she took a step, the dizziness would mess up all her bearings and make her lose her balance and she was certain she would fall. But that’s not what scared her the most. Without warning, her skin went crawling with another kind of fear, the fear that if Sinbad turned that corner and disappeared down the street she would never see him again, that he would somehow vanish like she had a year ago and that she would lose him all over again. It was a silly thing to fear, and maybe it was because of her overall unstable and wrecked state, but the sudden terror was so strong that it made her chest painfully constrict and her heart pound against her ribcage like a hammer. She couldn’t let him out of her sight. She had to follow him, but if she took a step she would fall, and if she fell then Sinbad would rush back to her and Baldy would seize the chance to break free and everything would start all over again, and Maeve refused to let that happen.

As she felt the panic rise within her with every step Sinbad took away from her and with her serious lack of options, she was about to call out to him when movement caught her eye outside the doorway of the dead end. Adjusting his cone-shaped silver helmet on his head, a young guard with a spear was strolling by with hurried determination, and as he came face to face with Sinbad leading Baldy out of the alleyway, he stopped dead in his tracks.

In an instant, Maeve felt the tension drift from her shoulders. Numb with relief, she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. Finally, Baldy could be handed over to the authorities who would deal with him and bring him to justice so that he could never harm her or anyone else again, but more importantly, Maeve thought as she thanked the good spirits, Sinbad wouldn’t have to disappear beyond the dead end. It was over, now. Just a few more seconds and Baldy wouldn't be their concern anymore.

It was only when she opened her eyes again that Maeve realized who the young man was.

It was the guard she had smacked.

[Sinbad]

Finally the bald ruffian had started moving, reluctantly but in a way that at least gave Sinbad hope there would be no major attempt at resistance – for now. It didn´t mean he was to let down his guard. Trying to lure the other in security was one of the oldest tricks in the book…

Maeve was still behind him he could tell and even though he didn´t turn around to not give the thug the idea he was distracted for even a second, he was paying attention to her footfall. It sounded uneven, irregular. She was dizzy, he had seen that before, dizzy and weak, the way her mouth was set in a firm, thin line, determined not to let show how she was really faring. Who knew what she had been through before she got here he thought to himself. It was high time that someone else deal with the thugs in town and he could finally pay some attention to how she was doing. Where was the guard of this fine city when you needed them?

With eery accuracy just when he was thinking that, his prayers were answered even though not in the way he had hoped. The guard that came into view and abruptly stopped when he saw their little party of three (Sinbad assumed that his knife to the other man´s throat had something to do with this reaction) was alone and rather young, younger than he himself was. Well, looks could deceive, he knew that only too well, but still.

“Hey there.” He called over to the other man, a dark haired, slender fellow with the bronze skin that was so common in these lands. “We could need a little help over here.” Only to make sure that the ruffian didn´t take his words as weakness he tightened his grip a little, but to his surprise what the guard did instead of hurrying towards them was to lower his spear and take a stand. “Get away from him. Slowly.”

Sinbad chuckled in disbelief. “I take it you want to keep your life a little longer? So do I. I was following this fellow right here where he was threatening this young lady who happens to be a friend of mine. You might want to keep a better eye on the thugs in this city so you know them when you see them.” What was going on with this guard?

[Maeve]

She hoped the guard wouldn’t recognize her—after all she had whacked him pretty good with the wood pole earlier—but when his calculating eyes alarmingly flicked between her and the knife Sinbad was pressing against Baldy’s throat, upset recollection darkened his features and Maeve knew their troubles were far from being over. Even despite Sinbad’s attempt to explain the situation, it was as if her simple presence picked at the lad’s alertness and mistrust. Gripping his spear firmly with both hands in a defensive manner but also as a warning, he eyed them like a lion ready to bolt on an unpredictable enemy.

More to the point, the fact that Sinbad referred to her as a friend only served to have him categorized as a foe playing in her team, as opposed to Baldy whom the guard seemed to view as the victim, what with his bloody nose and nasty gash on the arm, not to mention that he was currently tied up. Even if she and Sinbad were equally bruised, it didn’t seem to influence the man’s judgment or alter his conclusions, and that promised nothing good for negotiation.

“The lady is under arrest for assault on a city guard,” the young soldier corrected Sinbad with stern resolve, his eyes carefully darting towards her as he spoke, while his hand quickly went to his belt to retrieve a set of iron manacles, which Maeve could only guess were meant for her. “Now drop your weapons, both of you,” he ordered severely, tilting his chin at Sinbad’s knife and then at the crossbow hanging loose in her hand at her side.

Maeve’s mind went reeling as she sought Sinbad’s gaze. What were they going to do? Frozen in place, she tried to find her voice to speak and reassure the guard about their intentions but before she could say anything, seizing the opportunity to defend his cause, Baldy snickered. “She assaulted me, too, officer,” he said, half turning to glance her way with nothing but sheer mockery shining in his eyes.

[Sinbad]

There had obviously been things happening before this little unfair showdown here it appeared to Sinbad, and apparently the guard had gotten the wrong side of the story. He didn´t make any attempts to lower his blade, knowing that guys like the one he was keeping at a safe knife´s point right now knew exactly how to make use of a moment like that - and the young guard would not be much of an obstacle for sure.

He chuckled, but it came off not quite as cheerful as he had hoped. "So do you mind telling us how that would happen?" he said, his voice struggling to not drift into sarcasm. "The lady followed you into a dark alley where you were having a relaxed day thinking no evil when she suddenly assaulted you? Sounds like a risky thing, especially seeing that she looks like she is exhausted and the weapon she carries seems to be one of the pile over there." He nodded his head intot he direction of the toppled trader stand that Maeve had picked the crossbow from earlier. "Does that mean she arrived here, saw you, fell down, picked a weapon and decided you´d be a worthwhile victim?" Okay, sarcasm HAD entered his voice and he hadn´t lowered his blade either. Instead, Sinbad kept eye contact with the young guard. "Does that sound like the truth to you, captain?"

[Maeve]

“This woman attacked me,” the guard replied fervently, still clutching his spear. Aiming his small dark eyes on her, his voice then turned accusative as he exposed the facts to Sinbad, who probably had no idea what was going on, Maeve realized. “She hit me with a club and knocked me unconscious just when an upset merchant informed me of a quarrel she started in the street, which turned into an uncontrollable bedlam and destroyed half the market stalls. She-”

“I didn’t start anything,” Maeve cut him off, finally finding her voice despite the invalidating dizziness that screamed inside her head. “I only acted in self-defense because this man,” she lifted an arm to point at Baldy. “was harassing me with his merry band of brainless brutes. People came to my help but things got out of hands. You should be thanking me for knocking you out before he had the chance to crush your windpipes with his hand or drive your helmet into your skull.”

Maeve remembered the iron grip of the giant’s meaty fingers around her neck all too well. She probably had the marks to prove it but she doubted the guard would even glance at them. In fact, except for his stern countenance and unyielding tenacity, his face remained completely emotionless as he listened to her side of the story.

“Well,” the young lad began with resolute initiative tinted with sarcasm. “I’m sure my superiors will be glad to hear about your protection methods concerning the city guards, Ma’am. Now, for the last time,” he lowered his voice gravely as he took a step forward towards them. “Drop. Your. Weapons.”

Maeve closed her eyes and clenched her jaw against the vertigo sensation. She wanted to sit so badly. She couldn’t bear to stand there any longer without anything to support her. Besides, how could she possibly convince the guard that she’d been in a frantic hurry to help Kalani and the man in black, and that she had hit him for his own good?

Again, she sought Sinbad’s eyes, drawing strength from his comforting presence. She was tempted to raise the crossbow again to aim it at the guard to force him to step aside, but she reasoned that wouldn’t help her cause. More to the point, she probably wouldn’t even be able to shoot straight anyway. If only the man would just leave with Baldy and let them be...

Lips drawn in a tight line both from frustration and exhaustion, Maeve saw no other option. Reluctantly, she dropped the crossbow at her feet.

As they clanked in the guard’s hand, she already dreaded the iron manacles.

[Sinbad]

Sinbad tried to weigh his chances. Hearing Maeve drop her crossbow behind him limited those but at the same time it brought him some relief because he doubted that Maeve could keep on her legs for much longer and therefore he also doubted she could take on the guard if he chose to attack. He tossed her a concerned glance for a moment, to make sure she didn´t need his assistance – yet. By the looks of it she was more than shaky. Maybe that escaped the young lad who was still facing and opposing them, but Sinbad knew her a lot better… that stubborn frown, her mouth set a thin line… she was not doing good over there. Other options were to rush over to help her. He could rule that out because Baldy would seize the opportunity at once. And there was a third. Since, if he didn´t oblige the young guy would either try to arrest them himself or he would call for help. Both would not end well. What Sinbad then chose was possibly something the guard didn´t expect.

It was a swift, strong move, too fast for even the bold brute he was holding at knife´s point to respond to. A swift blow on the head which used up most of his strength, one blow because that one had to be done right or all hell would break lose. And it worked. With a grunt the ruffian slid from his grasp and thudded to the ground unconscious with the grade of a bail of cloth so frequently sold on these markets. The guard, witnessing the scene darted forward, mouth agape in surprise and anger but Sinbad gave the younger guy no time to doubt the sides they were on: as soon as he knew the ruffian was out cold (and there was no doubt he would awake with a nasty headache later), he dropped his knife and held up his hands, unable to keep a slightly smug smirk off his face. “And how about now, my good man, we do things in a civilized way?”

[Maeve]

Maeve met Sinbad’s gaze, his eyes shining with concern and his mind probably spinning just as much as hers as he searched for a solution to this ludicrous situation. His body was tensed, his grip on the knife at Baldy’s throat never loosening, and Maeve could see the keen calculation in his eyes as he silently and carefully weighted out his options. She also knew perfectly well that she wasn’t being any help at all at the moment because of her current dizzy state, which was clearly adding to Sinbad’s general worries. He seemed ready to rush to her side at any second, to support or catch her should she falter. It amazed her that even after all this time he was still able to read her like an open book, as if she had never left at all.

Maeve took pride in the fact that she was still equally good at reading him, too, but then, just to make her lie, what he did next came as a total surprise, so much that it made her flinch, her nerves jolting like an abrupt spark of lightning. Before she could even assess the fact that he’d knocked Baldy behind the head, the ruffian slumped to the ground like a sack of grain, heavy and limp. The giant who had towered over them like a mountain of rock with untameable force was now lying in a heap at his feet, motionless and harmless.

Bewildered, Maeve watched as the guard darted forward but then caught himself as soon as Sinbad dropped his knife and raised his hands in innocent surrender. The satisfied smirk on his face almost made her smile, but she was too stunned to react, just like the young officer, who looked at Sinbad with a frown that betrayed sheer confusion and disbelief. For a moment, adjusting the grip on his spear, he seemed to be at a total loss as to what to do next, struggling to shake his thoughts back into place.

However, quickly aiming to regain some authority, it wasn’t long before strict seriousness veiled his features again. “You’re going to be sharing a cell with the lady, sir,” he declared, prodding with his iron-tipped lance so Sinbad would retreat back towards her. “And with a pandemonium of this magnitude in the market square, you’ll be lucky if the Caliph himself doesn’t deal with the matter personally.”