Marrick’s Fire

The assassin shoved from Solnge’s advance, as he placed a foot on the hems of the young woman’s skirt. Solange splayed onto the cobbled street. 

“What are you about!” The assassin scowled down at the fallen woman.

“I’m about to shoot you with your own gun.” Solange leveled the diminutive weapon at the assassin.

The man swept his coat back to draw his other pistol. As he did, Solange revealed her other hand with a grin.

“You will return those.” He closed on the woman.

Marrick had ditched the gondola to return to Solange’s side. He fumed as he thought about how the girl would be the death or desertion of them both, but knew well enough that if he returned without her, the captain would have an even more foul sentence for him. 

Marrick rounded the corner to see the man in the dark coat standing over Solange. 

A rush of blood rang in his ears. “Aye! Away cur!”

Marrick drew his sword as his pace quickened on the cobbles. Marrick’s height caused the blade to scar the marble overhang between the buildings. 

Alerted both by Marrick’s call and the shower of sparks caused by the blade across stones, the assassin again opened the space between himself and Solange. 

In a sweep of his long stride Marrick passed Solange, his attention on her would be attacker. The sword arced toward the assassin. The man was quicker than Marrick’s stretch though. Coat shifting like water from a ship’s prow, the assassin sidestepped the attack.

“Quick little rat aren’t you.” Marrick pivoted to return a second advance. 

“Enough not to waste time with the likes of you.” The assassin leapt to a low sconce. 

He seemed to walk the building out of Marrick’s reach, yet lingered, his gaze still on Solange.

“Marrick don’t!” Solange rolled to her feet.

Marrick shot a glare so fierce it near knocked Solange again to the street. 

“I will never understand what goes on in your little head.” His words were venom and he turned so fast to give chase to the assassin Solange failed to gauge Marrick’s expression.

“Marrick!” Solange’s outcry was followed by the concussion of a shot fired. 

Marrick ducked as both lead ball and steel knife points slipped shy of his body. “Damn the gods, the both of you!” 

“Don’t waste those shots, girl!” The assassin launched clear as the shot shattered the head of the gargoyle he had clung to. “They were meant for your head, not this fool.”

Realisation crashed over Solange even as her ears rang from the shot. “Marrick. He knows who I am.”

“That I do.” Blaze perched clear of Marrick’s reach. “Return my pistols and I’ll make your end clean.” 

“Or I could end you messy.” Solange leveled the smaller pistol with the assassin’s head and fired.

Though Blaze had not anticipated the lack of hesitation in Solange pulling the trigger, his training had him clear before the shot landed, though not by more than a hair. 

“Cagna! Santa merda, you can shoot!” The assassin lept from Marrick’s swing of the sword even as he cursed in equal parts ire and awe at Solange’s steady skill. 

“I don’t know what you’re goin’ on about, but I’ll have your head on a spit. Come here! Fight like a man!” Marrick rallied for another swing. 

The assassin shifted direction to close again on Solange. With the space gained between himself and Marrick, Blaze dropped to claim his scatter of sliver-like blades. 

“Let a wench have a gun. Let her have a steady hand. May she even have a killer’s heart. She’ll still run out of shot.” Blaze opened his hand to display a pouch of lead. 

Solange whipped the larger of the two pistols at the assassin’s head. This assault found purchase right between the assassin’s eyes. 

“Dio novo!” Stunned, Blaze still managed to drop and roll from Marrick’s attack from behind, and in doing so, snatch the discarded weapon. 

“Slippery little punk.” Marrick pulled his sword point free from the empty cobbles. 

Blaze allowed a smirk to drip free from his otherwise stoic appearance. He finished hoisting himself onto the broad snout of another gargoyle, and turned the gun to load it. 

“You’re out of range and out of shot.” Solange tossed the little bag in her hand. 

“And outnumbered, and out gunned.” Marrick rested a hand on Solange's shoulder. 

Infuriating as it was, the pair had bested him. Catching the girl had been a longshot to begin with. It was fitting his luck should run out before the deed was done. He had more information than the others on her tail though, and that was enough. For now.

“If I didn’t think it would cost my career and my life I’d have you and that pistol. It’s a woman’s gun, anyway. I’ll kill for a better.” Blaze tucked the other weapons away in his coat. “The guild knows where you are though.” He shifted his gaze to Marrick. “And you won’t always be at her side when I come for what’s mine.” 

The assassin dropped into the shadow of an awning. Solange dropped her gaze and turned the pistol in her hand. She tucked both shot and gun into the small pouch that matched her now soiled and tattered gown. 

“What was that about?” Marrick gripped Solange’s shoulder. 

“You’re hurting me.” Solange pulled free.

Without a word Solange was swept over Marrick’s shoulder. Despite protests, both physical and verbal from the woman, Marrick kept his pace. He dumped Solange into the belly of the gondola.

“Over a gun.” He shoved the boat from the slip. “Over a pretty little gun, you’d’ve been killed.”

“This wasn’t about a gun.” Solange righted herself against the mountain of pillows. “Did you not hear what he said?” 

Marrick stopped the boat so short, Solange rolled to the base of the cushions. Marrick glared down at her, fear, anger, and something almost charming sparked his green eyes before duty and platonic concern veiled them once more.

“You have to stay on the ship.” Marrick growled. 

“Mais.” 

“No. That’s enough, Sol. That cur‘d’ve killed you if I hadn’t rescued you.  Again.”

Solange flinched. “That won’t be a trouble for you anymore. I’m off.”

Solange tucked her legs under the cloud of the gown and crushed into the pillows. “They know where Solange LeRenard is.” She drew the gun from the little pouch. 

“Aye. In Italy. Which is why I have to tell the captain we are off a day early.” Marrick pushed the gondola haphazard through the narrow waters. 

Both Solange and the first mate eyed warily the buildings as they went.

Solange made her way to the plank of Lenore. The captain waited at the top. His posture and presence typically caused Solange to cower and make for her hammock. Tonight though, she had been through too much. 

She did not allow the captain so much as a word before pointing a quieting finger to her lips.

The captain shook off his discontent at the girl’s behavior when he set an eye on Marrick. “One of these days you are not going to bring her back.”

“No.” Marrick leveled at the man. “I’ll always bring her back. Kickin’ and screamin’ if I have to. Or I’ll go with her.” This last was low enough for the captain to be uncertain of the words.

Solange stashed gown and trinkets in her trunk. She lay on her hammock and aimed the tiny gun at the ceiling above. “Bang.” She murmured.

Marrick lingered against the wall, out of the woman’s line of sight. He sighed at the change in the tide.