This is Prompt No. 90-Storm
Mitchie and Shane rushed onto the deck, both clad in the trousers and shirts of two seamen, just as the first roll of thunder shuddered across the sky. Mitchie had tucked all of her hair under her cap and now looked very much like a boy as she stood in front of the captain of the ship, receiving a rapier that the captain deemed to be her size. "Do you think we'll survive this?" she asked Shane quietly as they stood at the rear of the ship, blinking away the rain that was falling in heavy, never-ending sheets.
Shane shrugged, tense. "I don't know," he told her honestly. He turned and looked at her, completely on eye level, and said, "I hope so."
Mitchie nodded back. "I hope so too."
They stood there, back to back, as the pre-dawn storm swirled around them, each wondering if this was the last time that they would ever be together again. With the large navy ship, easily four times bigger than their own tiny boat, bearing down on them, the whole crew seemed strained and drawn. Though they worked quickly, loading the canons and retrieving their guns, Mitchie doubted that they had much faith in their cause.
"Get ready!" the captain yelled. "Here they come!"
His voice was punctuated by the roar of a canon as one of the navy ship's canons spewed forth its weapon. The ball sailed through the air, and for a moment, Mitchie thought that the ball might miss the ship completely, but at the last moment, it dropped, striking the side of the ship and sending a tremor ricocheting through the whole structure. Another six balls flew from Her Majesty's navy, and they were all answered with canon balls from the opposing ship.
"Watch out!" the captain called, making everyone turn at the sound of his voice. Mitchie's head whipped around and she saw the navy ship drawing closer now to the smaller ship. She braced herself, knowing that the navy intended to board the ship and fight that way.
The ship moved through the water, coming to slide up against its prey with a sickening crunch of wood against wood. Dozens of men in uniform poured onto the deck of the smaller ship, rapiers and guns at hand. The crew swarmed around them, trying to cut them off and keep them from taking their ship.
Mitchie waited, her hands twitching against the hilt of her rapier as she waited eagerly for the men to come closer to her. All she could think about was the days upon days that she had been put through excruciating pain because of these men's queen. Her eyes narrowed as she watched some soldiers slip past the first line of sailors. It hurt her to remember, but she brought the memory of flinching instinctively from Shane's touch to the front of her mind. These men were responsible for that.
The first soldier to squeeze through the line of sailors headed for Shane and Mitchie. Mitchie took a step in front of Shane and he protested, "Mitchie-"
Mitchie cut him off with a shake of her head. "He's mine," she said, her voice low and barely perceptible over the din of the battle.
She advanced, striking out quickly and catching the soldier off guard. Although she knew it was wrong, and not the way of a swordswoman, Mitchie let the anger and the hurt she held in her heart rule her blade. She lashed out as fast and as hard as she could, eager to make this soldier atone for England's cruel treatment of her. In a matter of moments, he was dead, and Shane was pulling her away from his body just in time to protect her from another soldier that had lunged toward her.
She parried his sword away from her heart, surprised at the calmness she felt when his sword ripped through the fabric and flesh of her arm. She drove her rapier through his heart, and as he slumped to the ground, she pulled his sword out of her arm as quickly as she could, minimizing the pain from the wound. She clapped a hand over her arm, trying to stem the blood, and turned to look for Shane.
She found her husband a few paces away from her, fighting his own battle with a soldier that seemed to be very skilled in swordplay. Mitchie watched as Shane's brows came together in fierce determination as he tried to counter every thrust from his enemy. A movement out of the corner of her eye drew Mitchie away from the fight. Behind Shane, a soldier was running, rapier raised, and Mitchie's heart stopped for a moment as she realized that he intended to drive the blade through her husband's unprotected back.
Without even thinking, Mitchie took a step forward and hurtled her sword in the advancing soldier's direction. The rapier turned over and over as it spun through the air, and it struck its target with a force that knocked the soldier away from Shane, sending him flying to the deck. He was dead before he ever hit the hard wood of the floor.
Mitchie smiled, feeling her heart swell with satisfaction. Shane had saved her countless times and now she was able to pay him back. Her satisfaction, however, was short-lived. She heard a heavy step behind her and whirled around, only to find the blade of a rapier inches from her neck. Her eyes met those of the cocky soldier that had succeeded in rendering her defenseless. Her first reaction was to raise her sword, so her hand came up, but it came up empty.
The soldier grinned. "Missing something?" he asked, obviously enjoying the leverage she had so conveniently provided him.
"Perhaps," Mitchie said, her eyes narrowing again. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins and she could feel her heart speeding up as she stood poised on the edge of danger.
The soldier took a step forward, so Mitchie, out of desperation and an appreciation for her life, took a step backwards, only to find herself pressed up against the railing of the ship, which only came up to her waist. She winced as she found yet another bruise on her waist, but she refused to give up so easily. Her foot shot out, catching the soldier in the knee, but he only winced, his eyes showing an anger he had yet to act upon. "You'll not drive me away that easily," he growled.
Mitchie tried to look out of the corner of her eye, wondering where Shane was, but she couldn't see him. The blade pressed closer, and Mitchie found herself leaning over the railing. Was he going to kill her, or was he going to toy with her and let her die from her own wounds?
"You thought you were so good," he hissed, seeming to answer her question. "You thought that you could get away. Do you really think that Her Majesty would just let you waltz right out of England after what you did, spy?" he asked, spitting out the word as though it was the foulest curse. He didn't wait for a reply, he simply drew back his blade slightly, ready for the kill. "The queen wanted you alive, but," here he shrugged, taking cruel pleasure in watching Mitchie's face, "I'm sure she'll understand."
His blade flew toward her throat, and Mitchie leaned back even more, almost losing her balance. A moment before the blade penetrated her throat, Mitchie saw a movement in her peripheral vision and then the soldier was losing a copious amount of blood from his midsection, and Shane was watching him in grim satisfaction. Mitchie was momentarily worried about how emotionless she felt, watching the soldier fall to the ground, his blood spreading out at her feet, but then she worried no more. This was the enemy, and it was better to be detached than to be attached and emotional.
"Are you alright?" Shane asked her.
Mitchie nodded, rubbing her neck were a small blossom of blood had seeped out due to the rapier's proximity to her skin. Shane extended his hand to help her up from where she still lay bent over the railing, and Mitchie moved to take it. Her boot came in contact with the soldier's blood, and her foot shot out from under her. Mitchie gave a startled cry as she toppled over the railing.
She closed her eyes, expecting the cold, encompassing water, but it never came. Instead, she felt a hard jerk around her wrist, and then she was swinging precariously in between the deck and the sea. She looked up, and there was Shane, once again rescuing her. He started to pull her up, but there came a shout from the deck and his head whirled around to look at something that Mitchie could not see. When he turned back to her, he looked torn and strained, hurried in his movements as he turned to look back over his shoulder again.
"Do you trust me?" he called to her, his eyes pleading her to put her trust and faith in him.
"Yes," she called back.
With that, he let go of her hand and she plummeted down towards the sea.
A/N: Well? I hope you liked it! Thanks for being so patient with me! Also, if I can ask one more favor, please review. It means SO much to me!! Love you all! :D
