Crossing blades

[Maeve]

Battling the overwhelming dizziness swirling in her head, Maeve was relieved when instead of snatching her once again Baldy decided to aim his fury on the nearing stranger. Angry beyond limits probably because she had slipped through his fingers once again and had managed to severely damage his nose in the process, he bolted like a tiger towards the man who had distracted him when he was so close to victory. With her blurry vision that felt like she was looking through a window of thick wavering glass, Maeve saw the two men exchange punches and kicks. She couldn’t really make out who was who with great accuracy even despite Baldy’s statuesque frame, but that didn’t matter at the moment because the pain soaring in her temples was monopolizing all her attention.

Taking advantage of the few life-saving seconds she was being granted by being off of Baldy’s hunting radar as he was busy loathing somebody else, Maeve tried to collect her bearings in the shadows of the little booth she was leaning on for vital support. Shutting her eyes close firmly and shoving the rest of the world aside, she focused on her breathing. In—Out. In—Out. Desperately, she tried to tame the strong spins of light-headedness spiraling inside her like the core of a wild tornado. Getting the dizziness under control was of crucial importance if she wanted to walk. In—Out. In—Out. More to the point, if the stranger failed to defeat Baldy, this may be the last and only moment she had to summon what was left of her fading strength. In—Out. In—Out. If she wanted to get out of this dangerous dead-ended narrow lane alive and in one piece, she had to get a grip on herself, now more than ever. In—Out. In—Out.

After a few precious seconds to gather her wits, when she felt the vertigo’s intensity finally weaken a little, Maeve risked opening her eyes. Blinking the shapes and colors of her surroundings cautiously back into place as the clashing noises of the duel next to her drifted to her ears like the growing rumble of an approaching storm, she suddenly realized with a pang of wild hope what the stall she was currently leaning on was selling.

Weapons.

Broadswords, scimitars, spears, long knives, double-crescent axes...Maeve found herself staring down at quite a deadly arsenal. No wonder such a stand was isolated in a narrow dead end and not in the middle of the market place where any thug and criminal could get their hands on the dangerous razor-sharp blades. At last, it seemed luck was smiling her way.

Without hesitation, Maeve curled her fingers tightly around the hilt of the closest sword she could find. Shifting her weight to her unsteady legs, she glanced at the two battling men just in time to see Baldy, who had his back to her and was thus shielding the stranger on the other side from her vision, take one mighty blow on the temple. Instant relief washed over her but before the giant hit the ground, in a flash, Maeve recalled the words he had spat in the other man’s direction when he had been choking her against the wall. Back off, pal, I saw her first. You’ll have to wait for your turn. Maeve felt her blood run cold. What if the stranger was just another ruffian, only looking to get his hands on her as well? Maybe Baldy had lunged for him because he recognized him and knew he was a potential threat who would loot his prize? Maeve gritted her teeth. If that was the case, then the stranger would meet his match. She would dispatch him before he even took a step towards her. She had had it with boorish thugs.

Without thinking, as soon as Baldy crashed to the ground and the stranger finally came into view, Maeve bolted from the shadows and swung her blade in the air.

[Sinbad]

Like a giant beast falling, the bald ruffian did not seem to be one to pass out without a fight. Unaware of the woman´s own struggle paces away as she tried to stay conscious for a moment, Sinbad had to focus all his attention on the battle at hand and his carelessness to divert that attention from his opponent only a second too early, believing that the fall would put an end to the fight momentarily, ended in a painful reminder that such a thing was the arrogance of a swordsman who seldomly met his match. While falling, the massive thug delivered a last fist punch with a poorly aimed right hand hook, but maybe all the more effective because it was so uncoordinated and this impossible to forsee.

Stepping aside just a bit too slowly, the other´s unaimed fist connected painfully with Sinbad´s jaw, splitting his lip, making his head snap back with a pained groan. The instant, distinct copperish taste filling his mouth told him that the ruffian had drawn blood but luckily, maybe, had spared his teeth. Sinbad cursed himself inwardly for his stupidity.

He raised his left hand in an attempt to assess the damage, another idle moment when he saw a swift yet slightly off balance move to his left. His head still bent there was no time to meet the attacker´s eye yet, alo because he was still trying to shake the dizziness from his head and mind that the punch had caused, but he jerked his hand, more on instinct than anything else, gave his body half a turn and, hair still in his face somewhat, one hand almost at his bleeding lip, felt the abrupt sensation that paired with the violent clang of steel against steel.

“Whoa, easy!” he said with a small groan, at the same time rebuking and calming the woman he hadn´t even seen much of yet, but who apparently was so scared that she took him for another attacker. With his face and other parts of his body hurting though at least part of his bruised pride was somewhat hurt at the fact that she would turn against the guy that had risked his life to safe hers. Then his head jerked up at last, seeking out the eyes of the one that had just crossed his blade.

[Maeve]

Mere seconds before Maeve’s blade collided with her new opponent, Baldy, true to himself, even as he was falling down, made a point of throwing a raging fist punch in the air which collided with the stranger’s jaw. Maeve thought that the impact would surely unbalance the man and therefore give her the advantage to strike efficiently, but with surprising reflexes the stranger raised his sword and countered her swift unexpected blow just in time, the collision between their blades sending vibrating shockwaves through her wrists and up in her arms.

As a rush of adrenaline instantly flooded her veins at the prospect of being engaged in yet another fight, as if this day would never end, Maeve clenched her jaw against the gnawing vertigo sensation in her head. Although she had somewhat succeeded to suppress it a little, she could still feel it coil and twist in every fiber of her being, just below the surface, ready to crush her down at any moment with ruthless force if she wasn’t careful enough. Desperately, with all the strength she could muster, she tried to stop it from unleashing itself, struggling at the same time to keep her wavering vision clear so she could be able to look at her opponent and be ready lest he slashed back at her in response to her attack.

But to her surprise, the stranger didn’t move, didn't charge back like she fearfully expected him to. Instead, his voice echoed in her ears as, startled and caught off guard, he tried to pacify the abrupt assault she had conducted against him. With their blades still crossed between them, his eyes rose up to meet hers.

Staring unblinking at the man who had just saved her life, her vision suddenly becoming quite vivid, Maeve froze in stupor.

[Sinbad]

It was as if the roaring world of clamouring steel and flying fists, the world that tasted of blood and smelled of anger and violence, came to a grinding yet sudden halt. The world as it had been a moment ago, hectic, dangerous, loud, was all of a sudden reduced to the here and now. As he met her eyes, his world froze.

How often had he dreamed of those eyes, how often had he woken to find it all a dream or rather a nightmare, endless memories taunting and haunting him. He had become another man to fight those demons off, only to have them return mere days ago, reminding him there was no escape from his personal hell. And for just a moment his mind, his reason, the part of him that had hardened him over the last year and turned him into what he had almost become, wanted to make him believe that this was just another cruelty, just another piece taken from the puzzle that had once been his soul, to be cast into the endless grey ocean of dull forgetting. That she was merely a figment of his mind. Some evil sorcery, sent to fool and torture him all over again. It had, after all, been mere days ago that he had fallen for that very same, vile trick.

But there was something else, something telling him that beyond doubt, that no matter the pain, there was no doubt this time. That this was no trickery. It was her, in many ways like he remembered her and yet with a new wildness to her eyes or a new sadness, it was difficult to tell in just a split of a second.

He blinked and it was as if this small movement set the world back spinning, brought back the throbbing pain in his jaw, the faint sensation of blood tricking over his chin, the tickle of matted hair against his forehead where he could tell his bandana had slipped a bit during the fight. Small, tiny sensations telling him that he was ... alive.

The odd thought crossed his mind that maybe the nostalgic move this morning to shave, to do away with the mirror image that he had not been able to face any more, had saved him right now, because there was no doubt that she recognized him and probably that was the reason that made her halt her blade at the same moment a he felt his fingers loosen about his. He didn´t drop his sword, but a single, well aimed strike of a half hearted swordsman …or woman could have easily sent it into the dust beneath his feet.

“Maeve?”

He had avoided even so much as uttering that name. Had not spoken it for an entire year. But it felt so familiar … and he realized that he had never forgotten how her name sounded. And maybe not saying it had been just yet another way to store away her memory in a safe place where nothing and nobody could alter or harm it.

[Maeve]

As the world and everything in it abruptly vanished all around her, Maeve wondered if she had finally gone mad. Breathing hard as her chest heavily rose and fell under the sheer fear that had previously powered her bolting assault but that was now replaced by utter astonishment and bewilderment, she stood staring at the man before her, a man she knew all too well, a man she could never forget, a man who haunted her dreams and plagued her every memory of the life she’d been forced to leave behind a year ago.

Transfixed, she stood completely still, like a marble statue frozen in place, unable to move at all. She couldn’t even make the dots in her head connect together. Amidst all the terror, the violence and the blood, it was as if her mind had frozen in place, too, fixing itself on the one memory, the one person that always made her feel safe. As her heart pounded in her chest like a wild thunderstorm, she fearfully wondered if, after the infernal swirling dizziness that made her sway on her feet and the excruciating pain that thumped inside her skull, hallucinations might yet be another stage in the wicked after effects of the ancient, strange magic that had swept her away from the realm. Maybe after all this time, it was now beginning to strip her of her sanity, making her see things she only wished were there?

But as her knuckles turned white as she gripped the hilt of her sword as firmly as can be for dear life, Maeve refused to believe that. With her deep brown eyes wide with shock and confusion, she marveled at how vibrantly alive and real the man in front of her was. Strands of stray hair falling in his blue eyes, red blood trickling down his lip and chin where Baldy had slugged him hard, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed just as heavily as she did, the texture of his shirt...This couldn’t possibly be just a mere vile trick of her exhausted state of mind. She wasn’t imagining things. She wasn’t crazy. This was real. He was real. And Maeve hung on to that truth like a drowning victim clinging to a rope that was tossed out to her in the darkness of despair and agony.

When he uttered her name softly, his bewildered features mirroring her own, Maeve thought her heart would break. How she had longed to hear her name spoken by that voice... Of all the people running everywhere in the chaotic bedlam in the market square, when she thought her world was about to end as she was abandoned to a grim fate at the hands of a statuesque brute, he was the one who had come to her rescue, the one who had dared to stand up to protect an innocent woman in the face of danger. And by the stunned way he was staring back at her right now, she could tell he had been completely oblivious as to who it was he was saving. Had he known it was her, she wondered if Baldy would still be alive.

As she lost herself in his beautiful blue eyes, the outside world barely registering in her senses as Baldy grunted at their feet with the promise of revenge, Maeve felt her muscles painfully unwind. Finally finding her own voice, she spoke his name softly as well, anchoring him into her chaotic reality like a lifeline in the middle of a raging ocean of brutality.

“Sinbad...”

[Sinbad]

He took only the briefest of moments to even acknowledge that the man at his feet had been moving, indicating that just with a small move of his head, but without leaving his eyes off her, as if looking away bore the risk of dissolving what he had by now agreed on with himself was not an illusion, but still.

Where had she been? What was she doing here? So many questions, no answers at all, but right now none of them mattered. He had believed her dead before he had been told she was somewhere where she could never been reached and there was no doubt in his mind that at least she had found a way, somehow, to reach the world again. But she seemed as surprised as he did and he wondered whether the ruffian that had given him a bleeding lip moments ago was involved with him. He had intended to harm her and even thinking of that made his anger well up again, but he would be accounted for, he would make sure of that and even the sharpest anger right now was completely uncapable of piercing all the other things he felt. Too tangled, too many to properly name or distinguish them, but it was like a soft cover over his raw angers and fears that had been taken away from him, leaving him helpless against his own sins that had suddenly returned.

He did a step forward, a small one, since the shock that was written all over her face, the multitude of emotions mirroring in her eyes told him she was just as taken aback as he was. “Is that really you?” His voice was not skeptical but hopeful, and he knew he was betting his sanity on the reply. If this were to be a trick after all, then it would be the one that would cost him his mind.

[Maeve]

When he took a step closer to her, closer to the little bubble of stupor that was her world at the moment, asking if it was really her staring back at him with wide, brown unblinking eyes that reflected utter shock with a mix of jumbled emotions all wanting to surface all at once, Maeve thought her heart would explode. He was so close...If she so much as extended her hand she could touch him. But their blades were still crossed between them and she couldn’t bring herself to move, terrified that if she did the ticking bomb of vertigo in her head would detonate and make her slip into the empty void of unconsciousness for good. She might not have mattered so much a few minutes ago, but now that he was here, she didn’t want to faint and risk waking up only to discover it had all been just a wicked dream.

Still frozen in place, she struggled to sort out all the thoughts and emotions that were colliding together and threatening to overwhelm her. But as she lost herself in his blue eyes so full of hope and concern, almost pleading her to confirm that she was real, that it was really her, flesh and bone, back into his world, free at last from the realm Dim-Dim had taken her to so long ago, Maeve felt the longing inside her heart surpass all the other feelings that were fighting to break through. It pierced her core inside out like a blazing arrow, making her realize with sharp, overwhelming intensity just how much she had missed him over the past year, how much she had yearned just to be with him, to look into his eyes, to hear his voice...That deep, burning feeling in her heart, right then and there, was even stronger than the dizziness menacing to flare up inside her head.

He was here. Nothing mattered anymore. Not Baldy, not the chaotic hell of the market fight, not the terror she’d felt only a few minutes ago, not the scratches of pottery shards on her feet, not the distant throbbing pain in her cheekbone where Baldy had roughly back-handed her earlier in the fight, not the wrenching soreness in her every muscle or the insufferable exhaustion that seeped all the way into the marrow of her bones, not the rage and the violence, nothing. Because he was here.

As her fingers finally loosened their iron grip on the hilt of her sword, the blade’s tip slowly lowering down to the ground, Maeve felt a lump forming in her throat. By the look on his face, she knew that he was waiting for her answer, yearning for the words that would confirm that she really was standing in front of him, right within his touch, as if his life depended on it, or rather his sanity. But her voice would not work this time, not without breaking.

Pressing her lips together, tears brimmed in her eyes as Maeve felt something inside her break, as if her very core had suddenly snapped, surrendering truly and wholeheartedly for the first time, since this morning in the guards’ headquarters, to the fact that she really was back into the world. She hadn’t believed it at first, had even denied it, but now, as her vision turned watery at the sheer, indescribable joy, relief and longing of seeing him again, there was nothing in the entire world she wished more than to be standing right here, in the middle of a bloody quarrel, exhausted and bruised. Because at least she was with him.

Swallowing hard, her tearful brown eyes locking with his as her heart drummed so hard against her ribcage it hurt, Maeve answered him with the only response she could give him: she nodded. A nod that anchored her into reality for him, but which did the same with him for her.

Then, out of the blue, she would have thrown her arms around his neck, not caring at all if she wasn’t yet steady on her legs and completely oblivious to the old decorum of pride they used to have around each other before the storm had washed her out of his life, had it not been for Baldy swiftly staggering up to his feet again right next to them.

Instantly, Maeve felt her whole body stiffen, her eyes snapping in his direction and her breath sticking in her lungs.

Angrily, the giant brute spit out blood and shot Sinbad a dark glare. The look in his vicious grey eyes was so cold-hearted Maeve thought it could have turned water into ice.

“You just made a terrible mistake, mate,” Baldy warned Sinbad gravely, the muscles flexing in his wrist as he clenched the hilt of his sword in his thick, huge hand. “When I’m done with you there’ll be enough pieces of you to send to every continent.”

[Sinbad]

The moment seemed to pass in slow motion, as if his soul was trying to absorb every little detail of her in the weak attempt to make up for the time they had lost. And if any little figment of doubt had still remained in his mind (for if he was honest with himself, he had almost been at a point where he was willing to risk being tricked again just because there seemed hope for this to be real), her nod confirmed that this was real. That she was here. No sorcery, no matter how intricate, would have been able to let her appear so…Maeve. The little twitch of her chin when her eyes welled up, the almost stubborn nod, the way her hair fell into her face, the way her eyes met his. There was no doubt. His heart and soul must have gone through a lot if he had just for a moment allowed it to doubt.

He wanted to reach out for her, wanted to pull her close, into an embrace, to hold her and never let go. To just feel her, be closer and reassure himself that she was back. But despite being distracted by this unexpected and most unlikely of encounters, his senses still worked. And thus, the fact that Baldy had apparently come to again did not escape his attention, but where the thug´s words had made him smirk before, even put a grim smirk on his face, he now only felt anger. Furious anger.

The captain´s eyes hardened when he shot Maeve one last glance and turned, positioning himself between the bald giant and her, taking a firm grip on his saber. The pain in his chin was a dull throb, but it only edged him on and the adrenaline flooding his blood was hotter, more dangerous by far than his motivations moments ago. To help a girl in obvious distress was a good motivation, but this guy was actually daring to get up again, dared to directly threaten… her.

The thug was about a head taller than he himself was but that did neither scare him nor would it matter. “No.” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “The one who made the mistake is you.” Anger. Anger rushing into his mind, just kept away from pure hatred and malice, just staying grounded in reality because she was standing behind him.

[Mala]

While around her the world once more erupted with wild fury, Mala tried to cling to what little still connected her to herself and this place. Like an ocean set ablaze something inside her stirred, restless as the gale and yet unmoving like hot summer air above a silent sea. She was empty and bursting, forgot who she was and found herself all at once.

She had done something, had touched another being where she should never have. She had lost control and at the same time gained it, had influenced another life and shown herself to it in a way that was raw and honest, even though she didn't know.

Behind her the man, that fool of a human, cursed and growled and hissed with rage. Where before he had been desoriented, his very heart and soul reeling from the violation of their integrity, it was now hate that blazed again, blinding and white hot. She felt his core tremble, shake just like she did, and the disturbance only fueled the one emotion that this man new best.
Had he had considered his own heart he would have known that part of him was frightened, this one piece of a whole that lived and breathed in harmony with nature and which he had learned to silence long ago. It recognized the spirit, had been touched so deeply by it and it made itself be known within him, confusing and irritating him even further.

As Baldy moved to stand up again, wild determination forming in his mind, suppressing the memory of the image which had made him fall and giving way to wrath and only the darkest of thoughts, Mala searched in herself for an answer that would not be found. Tired and scared of what she had done, of what she could have done to a soul less protected by arrogance and hatred, she turned around, dark blue eyes haunted and asking. But what they found was nothing she would have had expected and instantly the universe around her changed its shape, closing in on her and setting her free.

He saw her, took her in and she could hear his heart cry out. In hope, in fear, in desperation. He was her son, strong and shining, and at the same time he was broken, carrying a wound that had never healed. She tried to easen the pain, had made him see and understand.
So shortly before, it had been so shortly before that she had torn him from his own doom. The Sinbad she had met in Scratch's lair had been so close to losing himself, so close to giving up on all that he was just because a part of him was missing. Mala had seen through all the walls that he had built up, had seen the hurt beneath even if the one who was causing it had been a mystery to her. She still was, that woman with fiery hair and a core made of flames, but now she was real. Not an illusion, not a trap but flesh and bone. Light and warmth and it kindled something in Sinbad that had the Roman gasp.

He was angry, more than she had ever seen him be. Unknowingly the bald man who had attacked Maeve had unleashed something in the captain, her child, that had been buried for so long. And it heartened the spirit as much as it frightened her.
Unlike the brute's fury Sinbad's was born from something good, from the wish to protect, to defend those the closest to him - those who kept him breathing - but still the ire that she felt curse through his veins was dangerous. As much as it could help him against his adversary, as much could it comdemn him if he allowed it to reign over him and make him blind to the world.

Maeve anchored him, this much she could tell and she was more grateful for it than she knew to comprehend, and yet still she hoped that he would remember, even now, what she had taught him.

Heart, head, and then the sword.

The order was something Baldy would never understand. It was Sinbad's biggest advantage.

[Maeve]

When Sinbad cast her one last glance before turning to face the massive ruffian, positioning himself between her and the threat like a protective shield, Maeve saw the dangerous edge of pure anger that flickered in his eyes. She didn’t have to guess where it was coming from. The reply he gave Baldy was evidence enough of the truth: the giant had not been threatening any random girl, he had been threatening her. That made all the difference in the world, all the more since he fiercely dared to confront Sinbad about it, still clearly intent on finishing whatever it was he had planned to do to her no matter what or who stood in his way. The giant apparently had no idea who he was about to deal with, and Maeve seriously began to wonder if he would make it out of the alleyway alive, because although she could no longer see his face, the anger that emanated from Sinbad alone could have grinded Baldy into dust right where he stood.

That spark of deep rage, Maeve had seen it burn in his eyes many times before, not from when she had been sailing with him, but from when she had been gone. A world away, she had witnessed a lot of things while she watched him from the realm, things she wished she had never seen because of the pain and sorrow it had caused her, and that self-destructive fury that had often unleashed itself inside him, consuming him like a roaring fire, was one of those things. Maeve remembered how helpless she had felt whenever she saw the darkness of anger boil in his beautiful eyes.

But this was different. She could feel it as she stood in the shelter of his protective stance. The rage had flared up inside him, true, but this wasn’t the simple summoning of blind anger, driven by the recklessness to fight like she had seen him do so many times this past year. No, this rage was justified, and its potential destructivity was tempered by something that was even stronger than sheer anger: his protectiveness. His protectiveness towards her. That was the fuel on which Sinbad’s anger towards Baldy fed. More to the point, now that she thought about it, the scaring darkness that had shone in the depth of his eyes over the previous year was gone. It had been there the last time she watched him, a couple of months ago, but not when they had come face to face just then.

That little observation raised a multitude of questions within her but Maeve quickly pushed them all aside, forcing herself to focus her attention on the threat at hand as the invincible thug towered over them menacingly. Her fingers firmly clenched around the hilt of her sword once again as she braced herself for what would come next, because even if she knew she was safe behind Sinbad for the time being, there was no telling what the giant’s fury could accomplish.

Gritting her teeth against the gradually returning treacherous dizziness, she watched as an evil and bloody smile, directed at Sinbad, curved Baldy’s mouth. It was the smile of a wolf who wanted to have fun with his prey before devouring it.

“We’ll see about that,” he arrogantly answered Sinbad's warning, his wicked smirk sending a cold shiver down Maeve's spine.

Then, before she could even blink, Baldy raised his sword with a powerful growl and lunged.

[Sinbad]

Sinbad didn´t step aside. Stepping aside would have meant to make Maeve a target and even though the moment had been too short for him to notice she wasn´t faring too well at the moment, that was the last thing he´d do. Therefore, he just raised his arm swiftly, blocking the other man´s blow.

He could feel it vibrating through his arm, his entire body, singing in his bones and sinews, a might strike led with pure brutality, no morals or mercy holding it back, quite the contrary, a blow powered by a blind, animalistic rage. Sinbad was sure he´d feel the sores in his arms for days. If he was to be so lucky to see the next few days… but that thought that would have been accompanied by a devil may care sarcasm till moments ago was no replaced with a grim fatalism. He would defend her. He would not accept some random thug take from him what he had just found again. He knew he´d face all the demons of the seven seas, of earth and hell combined without hesitation to defend her. Whatever was one thug? But a brutally strong one he had to admit.

He needed more range, and he needed to keep her safely out of the other man´s reach. Both apparently excluded each other. Even with his muscles hurting he was certain he´d been able to distract with a backflip or two, with a few swift movements, but he knew he couldn´t risk that. Instead, he decided for another vicious kick, aiming for the man´s right knee, making him stumble back just a bit, allowing the captain a bigger range.
He had killed men for less. That thought popped up in his mind, a vicious, dark truth and there was part of him that wanted to strike to kill, thought that he´d have to, because a half hearted attack would end in both of them dead. Or worse. He felt the fury deep within himself, boiling, snarling, wanting to break free, yet here she was, Maeve, just behind him, so close he could feel her presence. And for some reason that kept him focused, more focused maybe than he would have been had he merely lashed out in blind anger…an anger provoked by this ruffian´s thread against her. It was a circle and yet…
It was an unpractical, improbable moment to remember this kind of thing, but in the moment the thug stumbled back, cowering lower with a vicious snarl to strike again, he had to remember the blonde woman they had met a short while back. That woman with the soft eyes and gentle voice who had touched his very core for reasons he still couldn´t and probably never would be able to fathom.

Heart, head, and then the sword.

And how often had he done it the other way round?

Sinbad didn´t wait for the other man to attack again. Jumping after him, he used the momentum of the man stumbling to add one, two, three more blows. Each of them blocked with the same arm shattering brutality, but at least he achieved the aim of driving the guy a bit away from Maeve.

[Maeve]

Maeve’s mind was reeling. Helpless, watching as Sinbad and Baldy delivered mighty blade swings, kicks and punches at each other, she stood motionless as the entire alleyway began to spin all around her like a whirling carousel. Quickly, to maintain her balance and keep from falling, Maeve planted the tip of her sword down on the ground and used it to support her weight. Hoping to counter the dizzying feeling, she blinked and shook her head in raging frustration. She was so fed up of being restrained in everything she wanted to do by this paralyzing handicap. It was like having a rock tied to your ankle, dragging you down in a bottomless ocean as you desperately tried to swim to the surface to gasp for air.

The wooziness was so infuriating and exasperating Maeve wanted to punch something. Sinbad was risking his life to protect hers, battling a savage brute that possessed the strength of ten men, and here she was, totally useless, rooted in place as she fought a battle of her own just to keep her knees locked so she wouldn’t collapse in the middle of the way. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this helpless in all her life. It was simply unbearable. She wanted so desperately to help him…Just thinking about the bleeding split lip Baldy had already given him made her heart painfully churn with worry and protectiveness of her own. If the giant hurt him again, if he so much as touched a hair on his head, Maeve would make him rue the day he was born. She had waited too long for this moment, to be reunited with Sinbad. There was no way in hell she would let a brainless ruffian harm him or take him away from her now. Over her dead body.

Holding her breath as her eyes followed the duel in front of her with growing dread, Maeve prodded herself inwardly. Think. She had to do something. Anything. Even if it was the last thing she did, she had to help him. She couldn’t just stand there. Wait. There was something she could do. She could step out of the way. She could back off and retreat further in the dead end. It wasn’t much, but it would give Sinbad more range of manoeuvre until she could figure out how to be proactively useful in all this mess. More to the point, if she wasn't in harm's way, Sinbad would be better able to focus his energy on Baldy instead of worrying about her safety. Maeve could at least grant him that little help.

And then it dawned on her. The weapons’ stall.

A wild hope fluttered in her chest like a flame spurting to life on a candle. Why hadn't she thought about it before? Not wasting a second, casting one last glance at the two men clashing steel to make sure Sinbad was still alright and in one piece, Maeve took a deep breath and gathered her strength. Using her sword for support, she swayed on her feet as she tried to reach the booth at the end of the alleyway without falling to her knees.

She would put an end to this madness.

She just hoped the stall had what she was looking for.

[Sinbad]

His opponent must have concluded from earlier attacks that the man he was facing was not just younger and a lot less heavy but thus also more easy a prey. More agile maybe, but even agility hardly ever outpaced his brute force, he had learned that lesson well in his adult life.

All the more of a surprise came the new series or sword strikes and blocks, making Baldy´s sarcastic laughter and angry words die on his lips to give way to a deadly determination. He had lost interest in the woman by now, would probably regain it but his prime objective right now was to teach that braze young guy a lesson, hopefully the last one of his life.
Anger was a powerful fuel, protectiveness even more so. But still, Sinbad had the feeling that no matter how hard he was fighting, his opponent barely wavered. Another swift movement of his wrist turned into a powerful assault drove the man back a bit, but not much, however creating some space and not just for fighting.

Another blow, and another, then a block and another, one so brutal that it almost drove the captain to his knees. He gritted his teeth both in anger and suppressed pain. He could feel his arms getting weary, feeling heavier and heavier with every blow and that realization made him all the more determined. Another kick sent Baldy back another three or four feet, opening up some space behind Sinbad for Maeve to move.

“Run.” He called out to her. He knew he´d be able to keep him out of her reach, but it was just a matter of time. How ironic, he thought, but that cruel irony which meant he could very well see himself losing that fight still didn´t make him feel hopeless. He could not remember ever having been in a fight so challenging and so potentially deadly, but the thought that she could escape, that he was protecting her, made this thought more bearable.
Baldy chuckled. “So brave.” he snarled, brandishing his broad blade again, spitting out to the side. “So dumb.”

[Maeve]

When Maeve finally reached the booth a couple of steps away from the ruthless battle, wincing against the annoying dizziness that was slowing her down and robbing her of precious seconds, she heard Sinbad call out to her. Run. Alarmingly, her head spun around in an instant and, not liking the word at all, she saw with worrying dread the opening he had just managed to create to allow her to cross to the other side of the alleyway and make it back to the main street. He wanted her to run. To escape. To leave him behind with the giant. Alone. In a dead-end. That was crazy. He was crazy.

Staring at him in disbelief as he fought off the angry thug and kept him at bay, Maeve was appalled by the implications of his suggestion. He was delusional if he thought she would even consider abandoning him to Baldy’s savage clutches. Besides, she couldn’t even run. For crying out loud, she couldn’t even walk! But Sinbad didn’t know that.

“I can’t!” she called back, both because she physically couldn’t run, but mostly because she simply wouldn’t run. Not now. Not ever. What he was asking her to do was out of the question for Maeve. She welcomed his protectiveness more than she would ever admit to herself—it made her weak in the knees for a reason that had nothing to do with the ancient magic that was wearing her down at the moment—but she condemned his intention to sacrifice himself for her. Even if this was part of who Sinbad was, always putting the needs of others before his own, even if that selfless quality could be commended, Maeve would have none of it when it came to her. Had the situation been reversed though, she probably would have told him to run to safety as well, but Maeve decided that that was beside the point. The point was that she would do everything in her power to help him defeat the colossal ruffian who had started this whole disproportionate quarrel.

Hence, not waiting for a reply, she turned her attention back to her goal with hasty determination. Hovering above the weapons’ stall, her eyes hurriedly surfed on the items that were orderly displayed on a thin black cloth that was draped over the counter. A flapping, dark brown linen cloth was also supported above the booth by four wooden posts standing at each corner, casting gloomy shadows on the deadly instruments. Her heart hammering in her chest, Maeve searched the grim display with frantic concentration. With rising panic, she realized that the stall didn’t have what she had in mind. Every possible weapon lay before her eyes except for the one she wanted. There were curved scimitars, heavy broadswords, small knives easy to hide, long daggers with jeweled sheets, spears with deadly metal tips, battle axes as big as her head, studded bracelets, maces, clubs, dirks and a bunch of other fearful things Maeve had never before seen in her life and for which she had absolutely no clue as to what use they could possibly serve. But what she wanted was nowhere in sight.

That didn’t make any sense. If the merchant who owned this booth really specialized in the business of weaponry as it appeared he did, Maeve thought expectantly, then by all means he had to be selling what she needed. The weapon had to be here somewhere.

[Sinbad]

He could hear a bit of stubbornness in her voice… or at least believed to hear that tone. There surely wasn´t much doubt about that, since he knew exactly what it sounded when Maeve was stubborn. When she thought his protectiveness was not what she wanted, when she would pout about it… And for just a moment, the same moment that he wanted to snap back at her out of old habit and tell her to just listen to him this once (because he cared for her of course), he felt a surging, exhilarating joy in his heart. Because for that moment it felt like old times. So much that he laughed. It sounded almost maniac, had to to his opponent who gave a painful grunt at another lash of Sinbad´s sword that he could barely block. Looked like even giants showed signs of tiring eventually even though the captain knew that letting his guard and strength down right now could be fatal. He tossed Maeve a brief look, a quick grin, a reaction at the bit of defiance in her voice.

Like old times… it wasn´t of course. This was no fun, easy adventure, this was a fight for life and death and he had just found her again but it gave him new adrenaline to be reminded of what it had been like. What it had felt like to know that the red headed Celt had his back. Even though right now she looked a bit wobbly in her knees, but that just meant he had to fight a little harder.

Another lash, another push drove Baldy back a few feet more. The man was still standing, but his movements were becoming slower and because of that, more desperate and difficult to foresee.