Chapter 4 – You're Welcome

With her wet clothes sticking to her uncomfortably, Maeve could feel her heart thundering inside her chest as she tried to calm her labored breathing. The man she was pressed against was as silent as a grave. She could tell he was holding his breath, too, his own heart pounding against her back between her shoulder blades. The heat of his body was searing, a sharp contrast with the cold of her soaked outfit which suddenly sent a rippling shiver down her spine, but neither of them moved an inch for another long minute lest they betrayed their hiding spot.

When the battle cries of the thieves finally faded away in the distance and silence gradually returned to the forest, the man's iron grip around her waist loosened. His hand freed her mouth and he gently pushed her out of the trunk, glancing from side to side to check their surroundings for any remaining thugs.

The quietness of the woods was rather satisfying but still a sense of caution was evident in the tense lines of the man's features as he moved to grab her arm. "Come on, this way-"

Quick as a cat, Maeve yanked her arm free and backed away, unsheathing the dagger in her right boot to point the tip straight at him as a warning not to come any closer, her thoughts firing up inside her head like a mad lightening storm.

The man immediately halted in his step and froze on the spot, his body going rigid. "Whoa, easy, I'm not going to hurt you," he began carefully with a deep resonant voice, his hands going up in the air in a pacifying manner. "I just want to help. We need to go before they-"

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Maeve stated sharply, keeping her dagger aimed straight at him as the wheels in her head spun like a wild whirligig. "You could be one of them for all I know."

The man frowned at her for a moment, still as a statue, minus the slight quirk of an eyebrow. "Do I look like I'm one of them?"

Maeve studied him attentively, utterly unable to formulate an answer. Her thoughts were simply racing in her head like fire catching on oil. "Where am I?"

The man blinked back at her in complete puzzlement. "What?"

"This place," Maeve repeated with a frustrated sigh, sounding almost desperate for an answer as she glanced around briefly. "This island. Where am I?"

The man frowned again, confusion etching itself on his face. "You're on the Island of Kalladrell...you-"

His words were drowned by a sudden duo of battle growls thundering behind them. Head whipping around, Maeve spotted two of the thieves she had just knocked down minutes ago, the black bearded one and his bald companion, racing towards them with their blades drawn in blind rage.

She braced herself to parry the attack but in a flash, the mysterious man unsheathed his sword and stepped in front of her to shield her, taking the blow as the first thug threw himself at him. Maeve watched as he blocked and deflected the assault with effortless precision and rapidity, then swiftly moved to counter the attacks of the second ruffian.

She briefly considered seizing the opportunity to flee, but her body refused to move as she watched the stranger fight, his broadsword arcing in the air and ringing with every clash. She simply stood frozen, witnessing the battle while her dagger slowly lowered at her side until the two thugs were both lying motionlessly on the ground.

When silence returned again in the forest, completely unfazed, the man slipped his sword back into its scabbard and turned to her again.

"We need to go, now," he spoke urgently, although maintaining a safe distance between the two of them lest she pointed her dagger back at him.

Maeve pressed her lips tightly together, eying him mistrustfully yet again, trying to determine in which category to put him, friend or foe. He carried a broadsword at his hip, which he obviously skillfully knew how to use, a blade he had just used to protect her. He was tall and strongly built with short, dark hair, and he was wearing clean cut woods' clothes; a pair of brown trousers with black leathered boots, and a deep blue shirt dampened by her wet hair when they hid in the hollow trunk of the tree.

He obviously didn't belong to the ruffians' gang, and as much as she hated to admit it, he might be the only one around within a mile to help her find what she was looking for.

She had no choice but to roll the dice on him now. At least she really was on the island of Kalladrell. The next step was finding the village of Denwood.

Keeping her eyes locked on him like a hawk, she carefully circled around to crouch down by the fallen thieves. Sheathing her dagger back inside her right boot, her fingers curled around the hilt of one of the ruffians' swords, a better weapon to defend herself with despite the dull blade.

"After you," she replied pointedly, tilting her head and motioning with her sword for him to lead the way, making it clear that she would not turn her back on him.

Grateful for her change of mind, the man simply nodded in understanding and quickly turned around, exposing his own back to her as he weaved his way through the trees, trusting her not to run him through.

Maeve followed his hurried pace and kept a watchful eye on him, clutching the sword in her hand and ready to counter any strike should he turn on her unexpectedly.

As they silently strode between the green woods, with shafts of morning sunlight touching the forest floor in scattered patches, a road finally came into view in the lower grounds ahead.

The road. She had been so close all this time…

After scanning the area carefully and gaining the satisfaction that they were out of trouble range, the man whistled and they skittered down the small slope leading to the road. In response to the man's call, Maeve watched as a black horse neighed and appeared from the other side of the forest, happily trotting towards them.

It was a majestic beast with a rich brown-colored robe, with powerful and agile paws coupled with intelligent sparkling black eyes. The man walked over to the beautiful animal and gave its nose a soft scratch before he went about the task of rummaging through the satchel that was strapped to the saddle.

Taking out a skin of water, he handed it to her with a kind smile. "I suppose you're thirsty after that long run?" he said with that deeply resonant, manly voice of his.

Casting him a sideway glance, Maeve hesitated a moment. Getting a good close look at his face for the first time, she eyed him closely, yet again trying to decide what to do with him.

He had a pleasant face, with dark hair and unshaven scruffy stubbles smoothly running along the edges of his jaw line. It gave him a manly, rugged look but what really caught Maeve's attention were his alluring, considerate eyes. A light blue color, they were small and keen, shadowed by a strong brow which, instead of giving the man a menacing expression, rendered him calm and thoughtful, as if he was in a constant state of intense brooding. He was slightly taller than her, with a solid frame of strong shoulders, and yet there was a strange caring softness in his overall stature, which made his whole appearance a blend of strength and safety.

Maeve couldn't even try to deny it; the man was handsome, very handsome, and the small charming smile that was currently lighting his brooding features was dissolving her mistrust by the second.

She took the skin from his hand and swallowed a few sips.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he patted his horse's collar and looked at her as she drank.

"I'm fine," Maeve answered, closing the tap of the skin and handing it back to him. "Thank you."

"You shouldn't be walking alone in the forest like that. The woods are filled with thieves and bandits of all kinds," he said, placing the water skin back into the satchel.

"I'll keep that in mind," Maeve assured him, drying her lips on the back of her hand before tiny bells of alarm jingled in her head to bring her back to urgent matters. "Is the village of Denwood nearby?"

"Denwood?" The man turned his eyes on her with a frown, the brooding expression back on his face. "Is that where you're heading?"

"Yes," Maeve nodded eagerly. "I'm supposed to meet someone, it's very important."

"I'm sorry but Denwood is not a place I'd travel to right now if I were you," he said, his voice darkening and Maeve saw a spark of sorrow flicker in his eyes. "The village was destroyed three weeks ago. The Blood Raiders sacked everything and slaughtered half the villagers."

"What!?" The sound of her own voice echoed deafly in her ears as she stared at the man before her in shock and disbelief.

"There's nothing left but ashes," he added, and Maeve saw his jaw clench in restrained anger.

She felt her head spin. How could she be three weeks late!? It didn't make any sense!

"Which direction?" She asked hurriedly.

The man pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. "Up north, across the Blind Mountains."

With her mind racing like a wild horse, Maeve darted passed him and started running up the road, her thoughts in a loud uproar. Three weeks! How could this be? What if Jacob was already dead? Then she had failed! She had failed before even getting to him!

Realization hit her like a slap in the face. A time split. She must have hit a time split, one of those weird breaches in the time-space continuum that could seriously hinder magical trips and mess up hours, days and even years within the timeline. It was the only possible explanation. Dim-Dim had once taught her about these kinds of dangerous mishaps that could occur with transportation spells, which was why unless someone was born with the gift allowing them to magically travel from place to place, it was a very difficult field of magic to master for practitioners who didn't possess that specific ability. Hence the invention of many different tools to do the job, like the travel vials Maeve had never heard of before Dim-Dim gave her the one she had used.

That was what must have happened. The travel vial must have had a slight defect and it had thrown her off course both in space and in time.

Amidst the whirlwind of questions in her head, Maeve heard the man riding up behind her, shouting after her.

"What do you think you're doing?" He called after her atop his horse, reining the massive animal in front of her to block her way.

"I just told you. I'm supposed to meet someone in Denwood," she replied, hurriedly circling around the stomping horse. "Dear spirits, let him be alright…"

"And I just told you, you have to cross the Blind Mountains to get there." The man trotted his mount in front of her once again, looking down at her as if she was completely crazy. "That's a full month of trekking!"

"A month?!" Maeve exclaimed again, her shoulders slumping down in disbelief as she caught her breath, but her mind quickly spun into solution-mode. "I need your horse."

The man laughed at her candor and shook his head. "A horse won't do you any good. The roads are too narrow and crammed with dangerous slopes and slants. Riders, even experienced ones, never cross the mountains because the risk of falling and breaking their necks is too great."

"Then I'll walk," Maeve declared as she dodged passed him once more and resumed her rapid stride. The man was starting to get on her nerves now.

"With all due respect, with nothing but the clothes on your back, you won't last a day!" He called after her again, getting his horse to walk next to her on the road as he continued talking. "To make a trek such as this you need provisions, good trekking boots and suitable clothes. You'll also need a guide, a very good one, and you'll need weapons. There are all sorts of nasty creatures lurking about in those woods and that borrowed sword of yours is about to come apart."

"I can take care of myself," Maeve replied sharply, maintaining her pace as she tightened her grip on the thief's sword. She didn't even look up at him, stubbornly keeping her gaze in the direction where she was heading.

Suddenly, apparently as stubborn as she was, the man heeled his horse in her way again, forcing her to stop. "Look, I'm sorry about your friend, I truly am, but maybe he's still alive," he said intently as he leaned forward, the leather of his saddle creaking as he did. His voice was firm yet gentle at the same time as he looked her directly in the eye. "Maybe the Blood Raiders didn't get to him and if that's the case, if he did survive the attack, then what good will it do if you get yourself killed in the woods because you're too anxious to get to him?" He paused, keeping his eyes on her to make sure his words were sinking in properly before he went on and pointed behind her with a finger. "The city of Southampton is just beyond the next fork. I know someone who can take you across." Then he straightened up in his saddle. "Come with me," he offered, extending his hand down to her, his brooding blue eyes never leaving hers.

Maeve stared at his outstreched hand, growing silent as she debated with herself. She needed to get to Jacob; that was as clear as water to her. It was her mission. She had promised Dim-Dim she would do anything to protect his friend, but the man in front of her was right; she wasn't thinking rationally. She needed to be alive if she wished to accomplish anything at all. Plus, she didn't know where she was. She knew next to nothing about the island she was on; Kalladrell. She knew nothing of its people, of its layouts of lands, its culture, nothing. This man was offering help and he might be her only ticket to Jacob. She had no choice but to roll the dice on him. Again.

Maeve glanced at his hand and then back up to his charming eyes. He had already proven himself back in the woods, hadn't he?

She glanced down at the sword she was holding, noticing that the blade was about to come off the hilt just like he had pointed out. Frustrated, she tossed it aside on the road and breathed out through her nose, trying to simmer down.

His hand was still outstreched, waiting for her, and after a moment, half-reluctantly, Maeve clasped it with her own and he pulled her up behind him on the horse.

When she was comfortable enough, he motioned the horse in a walk. "I'm Robin."

"I'm Maeve." She couldn't believe everything that was happening. What would Sinbad think if he saw her like this, riding behind a handsome man on some forsaken far away land merely two, well, now, five weeks after the storm?

"Pleased to meet you, Maeve. May I ask what you were doing all alone in the middle of the forest?" Robin asked, trying to engage her in conversation as genuine curiosity colored his voice.

"I was trying to find my way out of it," Maeve answered shortly, resting her hands on her thighs.

"How did you end up lost in it in the first place?" Robin inquired again as his eyes scanned the surrounding woods to make sure none of the thieves were close by.

"It was an accident."

"What kind of accident?"

"A miscalculated itinerary."

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Do you always ask so many questions?" Maeve asked with growing annoyance.

"Do you always give so many vague answers?" Robin asked with a tone to match hers.

"I'm not very talkative with strangers," Maeve replied dryly, biting the inside of her cheek. The man was as quick-witted as she was and she wasn't sure she liked it.

"We're not strangers," Robin replied with a certain amusement. "We're already in the process of becoming friends."

"Meaning we're not friends yet," Maeve pointed out, sticking to her point.

"Meaning we're not strangers either." Robin stuck to his, too. "I rescued you from those brigands, didn't I? That's got to count for something."

Maeve found it unsettling to argue with someone she couldn't face. She couldn't discern if he was smiling or not, but he was clearly enjoying their small banter. "You didn't rescue me," she firmly assured him, keeping her voice as calm as she could. "I had everything under control before you barged in."

"Sure," Robin replied, keeping his gaze ahead as he continued to mock her playfully. "Outnumbered twenty to one with no weapon at all, scampering under a shower of deadly arrows and wet as a fish. You were on top of it all."

Maeve glared at him from behind. "Look," she began warningly, her patience about to run short. "I didn't expect to stumble upon a felons' party. I had to make-do with what I had and I'm sure I would've managed just fine without your help." She was close to losing her temper now. If Robin kept needling her like this as if she were just a mere damsel in distress he had rescued, she would snap.

"I take it this is your way of saying thank you," Robin mocked again, completely oblivious to the edge in her voice as he kept toying with her. "You're welcome."

Maeve's mouth gaped open at his boastful words. She fought to keep her cool and searched for a spiky reply. "Are you always so arrogant?"

Suddenly, Robin pulled at the reins to stop the horse and twisted around to face her in the saddle. "Are you always so ungrateful?"

He was so close their faces were inches apart, but she held his gaze with her best glower. "I didn't ask for your help."

"You're right, you didn't," Robin agreed, keeping his eyes locked with hers as he went on with a serious edge in his voice. "But if I hadn't stepped in when I did to give you a hand with those bandits, chances are you would've been killed. And even if you had managed to escape like you claim you would have, you would be walking to your death right now if I hadn't stopped you from venturing into the Blind Mountains. So like it or not, one way or another, I did save your life."

Maeve stared at him, still glowering. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. Everything he said was true. Without him, she would still be running from those thieves in the forest and she would be losing precious time. But there was no way she was going to tell him that. "So what do you want me to do? Give you a medal?"

Robin cocked his head to the side. "A simple thank you would suffice."

Surrendering in her own way, Maeve obliged to him in an overly exaggerated theatrical tone. "Thank you, Robin, for saving my life so heroically like a knight in shining armor."

Robin kept his blue eyes anchored on her, looking somewhat amused by her spirited fake answer and probably well aware that this was as close to a real thank you as he would get. However, to match her stubbornness, he teased her again. "You can do better than that."

Maeve stared back at him, bewildered. This man was simply infuriating and she had to tap into all the self-control she possessed not to strangle him right there with her bare hands. Holding his deep gaze firmly with her own, she let dry sarcasm color her voice. "Are you always so agreeable?"

Robin remained silent, studying her as if to quietly assess what she was made of, until a genuine, almost satisfied smile stretched his lips and wrinkled the corner of his blue eyes. Then he gave a faint nod. "You're welcome," he replied with a smirk, refusing to let her win as he turned around in the saddle and heeled his mount into a gallop without warning.

Startled by the sudden pull forward, Maeve quickly wrapped her arms around his waist to keep herself from falling backward, fighting the urge to curse out loud as she adjusted to the pulse of the ride.

She came to the conclusion that Robin was infuriating, yet he had known exactly how to pick on her nerves without making her lose her temper. He had brought her on the brink of pure frustration and yet had managed to keep their bickering at a safe enough level so as not to endanger his life. There was only one other man Maeve knew who could do that.

Her chest tightened as the horse's hooves rhythmically echoed on the road, and with the familiar twinge of longing that tugged at her heart whenever her thoughts drifted to him, she wondered what Sinbad was doing in this precise moment, whether he was on the Nomad or on land, if he was holding the tiller or striking a shipping contract with a merchant at a foreign port, if he was safe or in the middle of a fight…

Hundreds of thoughts wanted to surface all at once in her mind but before her longing and her worry could overwhelm her, before her fingers could brush against the red bandana tied loosely around her wrist, Maeve's daydream was rudely interrupted when after a sharp turn in the road, Robin reined the horse to an abrupt stop.

Standing a couple of feet in front of them, the band of thieves was blocking their way and by the grim expressions on their faces, Maeve could tell they were not happy at all. She also noticed that four archers, two standing at each side of the group, had their bows cocked with deadly arrows ready to be released at any second.

At the center of the gang, the leader, the blond ponytailed man who had first spotted her in the woods, glanced up at Robin with a defying glare. "You took something that belongs to us."

Nonchalantly, Robin replied to the thief with a confused frown. "Really? Are you sure? Because last time I checked I bought this horse five years ago from a very trustworthy breeder."

"Don't play with me, mate, I'm not in the mood," the leader warned pointedly, his gaze as sharp as the sword at his side. "Give us the woman. She's ours."

Maeve was about to protest vehemently but Robin cut her off. "I see…you're talking about her," he pointed at Maeve behind him with his thumb and then shook his head. "Sorry, boys. Finders, keepers."

When the ponytailed man's glare turned deadly, Maeve could tell his anger was fueled by Robin's smug smile. He became dangerously threatening. "Give me the woman," he repeated his request with venom in his voice. "Or I'll take her from you myself."

The archers pulled the strings of their bows and aimed at them, ready to shoot.

With her hands strapped around his waist, Maeve felt Robin tense. Quickly, he waved a hand to calm the thieves' temper. "Easy now…I'm sure we can work something out," he said, swinging his right leg over the horse's collar to leap down to the ground. Giving her the reins subtly, he intently looked up to her and whispered. "Stay on the horse."

Slowly, with his hands spread apart to show them he meant no harm, Robin walked up to the thieves and addressed them again. "Maybe we could come to an arrangement."

Maeve's mind began to race. She had no idea what Robin was doing, though she guessed he was trying to buy some time. The archers were now aiming their arrows at him.

With as much discretion as she could, she scooted forward in the saddle to sit properly, slipping her feet in the stir-ups. Glancing down, she noticed there was a bow and a quiver attached to a hook on the right side of the saddle.

When Robin finally reached the thieves and stood right between the four archers, the ponytailed ruffian leered at him. "There will be no arrangements, and you're about to pay for your arrogance." He unsheathed his sword and motioned for two of his men to go get Maeve.

Robin kept his hands peacefully in the air and waited.

Maeve held her breath. As the two thugs neared the horse, Robin turned around and their eyes met. She searched his gaze, trying to understand what he wanted her to do but before she could find the answer, the ponytailed thug rammed his fist in his abdomen without warning.

Robin doubled over and dropped to his knees with a grunt. The thief then grabbed him by his short hair and pulled his head back. "But before I kill you, let's have a little bit of fun first, shall we? I want you to watch while the lady entertains us," the man snickered viciously.

At that, Maeve had heard enough. As one of the two brutes assigned to fetch her tried to grasp her leg, she kicked him hard in the face. The horse reared up in fear and as a result, the other ruffian received the powerful blow of a hoof square in the nose.

Simultaneously, before the archers could turn their attention on Maeve, Robin shot to his feet and threw himself on the leader. Arrows whistled in the air but as the four archers had been facing each other to shoot Robin standing between them they ended up shooting themselves instead and fell down with surprised yelps of pain.

The rest of the thieves then charged at Robin who drew out his sword just in time, blocking the numerous assaults as best as he could.

Coming to his aid immediately, Maeve heeled the horse and rode through the pack, kicking and punching every time the occasion presented itself, but no matter how wildly the horse bit and reared at the ruffians, it wouldn't be long before they would manage to pull her down. There were simply too many of them.

"Maeve!" Robin shouted amidst the chaos, throwing her a sword he had managed to snatch from one of his opponents.

Catching it by the hilt and relieved to finally have a good quality weapon in hand, Maeve tried to slash her way through the thieves and make enough room for Robin to jump back on the horse so they could get out of there.

However, charging in the pack as well, two riders suddenly joined the fight.

Maeve recognized the two massive draft horses that had been harnessed to the thieves' wagon in the forest. More to the point, she recognized the riders; the thug with the black beard and his bald companion. Wielding double-crescent battle-axes, they looked angrily intent on getting even with her once and for all.

With them in the fight, Maeve knew she and Robin didn't stand a chance. They would be hacked by those deadly axes in a matter of seconds. She had to get them away from here so Robin could finish the rest of the thugs off, which she trusted he could accomplish without her. By what she had witnessed in the forest earlier and what she was witnessing now, he was a terrific fighter, brilliantly skilled at sword-fighting and hand combat.

Ramming the hilt of her sword in the face of a thief who was trying to snatch her reins, Maeve called out at the two riders perched atop their huge geldings. "Hey! You boys up for a race?" Not waiting for their answer, she heeled Robin's horse into a gallop up the road in the direction she and Robin had just come from.

The two thugs immediately raced after her and as the clashes of steel faded away in the distance, Maeve silently prayed that Robin would be alright.

As she pushed the horse harder, the trees of the forest on each side of the road flashed past her at dizzying speed but Maeve couldn't bring herself to look back at the thugs chasing her. One swing of their deadly axes and they would behead her for sure.

Fear pumped in her veins as the hoof beats of the horses reverberated all around her as the two riders finally closed in on her from both sides, sandwiching her between them.

With a raucous yell, the bald man swung his massive weapon to chop off her head and Maeve barely had time to duck down on the horse's withers to avoid the razor-sharp blade. Out of blind terror and primitive instinct to save her life, she felt the magic within herself flare up and tingle down to her fingertips. When she straightened back up, a fireball formed in her left hand and she threw it at her attacker. Flames exploded on the man's scruffy shirt and he stumbled down his huge steed with a scream.

Maeve then turned to his bearded companion on the other side, whose eyes were wide with astonishment and fear. Not giving him any more time to react, she punched him hard in the jaw and the bewildered thug lost his balance and fell down heavily to the ground as his massive gelding continued on galloping with the other one, rider-less.

With her mind racing, Maeve didn't lose a second and reined Robin's horse down promptly, wheeling it around in a swift u-turn and then urging it to a fast gallop again. Instead of riding back down the road though, she led the animal off into the forest and for a second time that day she tossed her sword away.

As she speedily galloped through the widely spaced trees and luxurious brambles, Maeve unhooked the bow from the saddle's strap and pulled out an arrow. Soon, the clash of steel reached her ears again and through the branches and the leaves, she caught sight of Robin fighting off the thieves. Half of them were squirming in pain on the dirt road and the rest were closing in on him on all sides.

Slowing the horse down, Maeve led it close to the battle while remaining hidden in the shadows of the trees. Cocking the arrow in place, she pulled the string of the bow and shot. The arrow sliced the air and lodged itself in the shoulder of one of Robin's opponents.

The thieves froze in confusion. As they looked about in surprise, Maeve didn't lose a second. She cocked another arrow and charged into the fight. In a flash, she made another accurate shot and brought down the thief Robin was facing. Too stunned to react, the remaining ruffians stared at her incredulously.

Rapidly riding through the pack past Robin, Maeve clasped his arm firmly and hauled him up behind her as the horse continued to canter ahead at full speed, leaving the dumbfounded thieves behind them.

As they galloped away from the battle scene, the shouts from the thugs slowly turning into distant echoes, Robin solidly wrapped an arm around her waist to keep his balance and carefully sheathed his sword. Panting, he tried to catch his breath. "What took you so long?"

"Is that your way of saying thank you?" Maeve smirked over her shoulder. "You're welcome."

Robin laughed at her comeback, and together they rode off to the city of Southampton.