Finally, with his weapon back in his hand the Fae Lincoln had sent off makes a break toward the stairs. The very place the humans are trying to protect. I chance a glance at him while the Fae before me shrinks back for a breath to cradle his hand which is already stitching itself back together.
My vision pigeonholes on this one Fae. All I can think about is what would Lincoln do? What would a trained soldier do? With all his walls down, I can walk Lincoln's mind just as I walk my own. My brain grasps at all his training, my muscles flexing with a movement only Lincoln's body has practiced. My arms lift over my head and behind me before I step forward and throw my only weapon.
The axe spins in the air, getting a couple power filled rotations before it buries itself in the back of the Fae's skull. His body crumples forward mid-step. Blood splatters.
Fuck, yeah!
But then my stomach fills with nausea. My eyes widening at the dead body I had just created. There isn't time for me to dwell on it. Not as the cold fingered Fae raises a hand for me.
I cut my hand through the air to grip the Fae's forearm. I catch him, one handed, and send my other arm hurtling forward to plunge my fist into his gut. Air hisses from his lungs, his movements so quick that only my Fae magic keeps my attention focused.
He rips his hand away from me, his knuckles slamming into my cheek bone. I stumble back, pain blooming in a dull ache. That hit would have killed me if I'd been human. But I'm not human anymore. I'm Shadow Fae.
Righting my posture, I only catch a glimpse of Lincoln's opponent falling. He snatches up the Fae that hurtles toward Captain Beatrice and tosses them to the side like a rag.
I take a deep breath. The Fae across from me watches every subtle move I make. We move in sync, colliding in a swirl of swinging limbs and swiping jabs. I focus my mind on all of Lincoln's experiences, using them as if they were my own. It moves my body with the lethal ferocity of his decades of training. My wings tuck against me. Though I quickly notice that even this Fae trying to kill me doesn't make any attempt to slice through them. Even for him that's too low of a blow.
His ice travels with a numbing cold into me with every hit that gets through my defense, making my movements sluggish. Behind him, Fae are getting pushed back, leaving him as the only one behind enemy lines. His wings flicker and he lifts up off the deck. I try my best to follow, gaining a few inches to grab and pull him back down where I'm more comfortable to fight.
My dress is a tattered tangle around my legs, my heels the only form of weapon at my disposal. I step forward, my elbow aimed for the man’s temple, and my heel digging into his toes as his feet settle on the ground. His teeth grit together as he pushes away from my face. He makes a move to strike me once again but freezes at the bristled command.
"Fall back," an angry voice calls out. "Fall back!" It repeats even angrier.
The man blinks at me and I can see the conflict in his eyes. He wants to end me. He wants to win this fight. Unsatisfied, he backs away. I drop my hands.
Not one of the humans drop their swords. They still aim for the kill even as the Fae back toward the lip of the ship and disappear over its edge. The icy Fae grabs the body of his comrade and slings it over his shoulder. The axe I threw is still buried in the back of his skull as he jumps off the ship. The whole band of men, who weren't so much as able to kill one human woman, become little black dots on the sand that run and hide in the thorny brush of the forest, like sparkling insects that melt into the trees.
It's a testament to their strength and their ingenuity. The humans could not be beat. If anything, it shows how stubborn humans are. They refuse to die off.
The warm late-day air pillages my chest as I watch them scamper away. The captain claps Lincoln on his shoulder, shaking him with a laugh. He only offers her a tense smile.
In a burst of energy, I put myself between them, covering the space that had been between us in less than a second. Instinctually, my teeth bare. Captain Beatrice pulls her hand away slowly.
"Possessive little cat," she clicks her tongue at me.
"It's fine," Lincoln nudges me back, away from the captain. Even though our bodies don’t touch, his heat fills the air around me, seeping into all the parts that the Fae had touched with his bitter cold magic. I try my best not to arch like a feline into him, refusing to give any sort of nod to Beatrice’s cutting comment.
"It's not fine." I point my words at the captain.
Lincoln grips my shoulders, speaking around me to Beatrice. Without a thought, my wings shift under his touch, curling back into my shoulders as he loosens his grip. "The man with the tattoo. What did you call him?"
"Ah, those awful Fae--no offense--are led by a man who calls himself Barnabus. He nearly took out half my crew just days after we had arrived." She pulls a small telescope from her pocket and aims it at the land the men had disappeared to. "They raid our supplies that we gather at every chance they get. I won't let them kill any more of my girls."
Those girls to which she speaks of are already moving about the ship. They pull rags and mops from a storeroom and start wiping away streaks of blood while tending to any of their wounds. I try not to balk at a finger that gets swept up in a broom when I know good and well I'd just hit a man clean in the head with an axe.
Lincoln lowers his face to mine, his lips against my ears move in a hurried whisper. "There once was a tail of a tattooed Fae who stole from the rich to give to the needy. One day his attacks stopped and no one has heard from him since."
I pull away. "Like a Robin Hood situation?"
"Who?" Lincoln says in unison with Beatrice Ann.
"Steal from the rich to give to the needy. That's what... " I sigh. "Never mind."
"If you're insinuating that this band of miscreants operates with some sort of moral compass, I'd reckon you'd be very wrong. Plus, me and my crew are hardly rich. Especially after all this time." Beatrice collapses the scope and tucks it neatly away back in the pocket it came from.
Behind the captain, Johanna stomps into the office and then back out. There is a clatter of items moving from here and there, though we can't see what she is shifting about. Even Beatrice looks over her shoulder at the commotion.
"Johanna, come on out from there!" she says in her thick accent.
I must sound so plain to them. In comparison to the smooth rich way Lincoln talks and the old-world western accent the pirates have.... my accent is crass.
The first mate storms from the cabin, the door slamming shut behind her. Her eyes are dark as they land on Lincoln and I. With the extension of one hand and one long finger, she stomps forward.
"Where is my axe?" she demands.
I bite my lip. Lincoln looks down at the sword that he had used that now sticks from the railing. Then he scans the ground from left to right. He takes my hands, opening them in his as if it will make the weapon suddenly appear or if I had somehow shrunk it down to hide.
"I got it stuck in one of the Fae's heads. They took the axe with the body when they left."
"You scabby sea bass! That was all I had left that was mine from before we fell off the edge of the earth!"
"Does the human earth have an edge?" Lincoln ponders out loud.
"No." I say at the same time the pirates say, "Yes."