Faefalling (working title)

17- I return to civilisation and find it still sucks

Cathal and Fionn called out from the safety of the alley, beckoning me back to join them, but I'd lost sight. A mass of figures swarmed around me, nothing more than silhouettes and fleeting bursts of life. Every time I thought I'd zoned in on one, a noise threw me off.

Blind and confused, I pulled out Craorag. Befuddled hisses of amused outrage reached my ears, telling of the countless beings in the smog. At least twenty far as I could tell.

"Sheathe your weapon or we cut you down where you stand," a stringy voice rang out.

I smirked and twirled Craorag over my head with one hand. "I'd like to see you try."

I felt the hidden fae shudder with rage; some took steps closer. I almost had a grasp on their auras. Just a couple more seconds, a couple more steps, and I'd have targets set in my mind's eye.

"We should kill him," the same shrieky voice uttered, then paused as if awaiting an order.

A new voice made itself heard. This one even and standoffish. "Captain," the newcomer called out, "care to inform us why it is that you've brought this fae into our midst?"

Fear swept out of Cathal's response. "I... I'm sorry, Draoi... The bounty hunter, he had an invitation."

Silence. Draoi apparently didn't care to answer. I shifted, eyes narrowing in on a stretch of smoke. They had to be in there.

I took a step forward, bringing Craorag around. Then, a ping of energy zapped through my mind. A presence off to the right, near enough to reach with a hand. I spun, slicing down on where they should've been standing. Craorag cut through smoke.

A chuckle emanated around the clearing. "He certainly has quick reflexes. A cute little thing."

The smoke was starting to seep into my eyes and lungs. I coughed, my grip on Craorag loosening, and fought to hold on, using the invitation to shield my face. The cloak slowed me, hindering movements, but I couldn't afford to remove it. Not with Cathal around at least.

My eyes went wide as another ping went off, this one right behind me. They were so fast, unbelievably so. Or was it just me going slow? I raised my sword, much too late, and swung.

Not even a fraction of a second later, a slender dagger appeared in front of my face. I sucked in a breath. It was just floating there, the bearer completely shrouded. I lifted a hand, perhaps to grab it or whoever hid behind it, when Craorag was slapped away. Panic clouded for a moment, not for myself but for the sword. What if I'd lost her? It'd be like losing him all over again.

I dived after her and on stone with a thud. But Craorag was gone, vanished into the thick fog without a trace. Scrambling back to my feet, I held in a shout, instead going for a dagger. If a dirty fight was what they wanted, I'd gladly give them one.

Before I could do any such thing, a hand tapped my shoulder. The floating blade came to rest beneath my chin, not touching skin, but close enough that it wouldn't matter. I became a statue, stifling a curse. One swipe of a hand and my life could end.

I tried to throw a look over my shoulder, to see who exactly I was going up against. They strengthened their grip at my twitch, tight enough to be menacing, and I fell still once more.

My thoughts swam, a million ways to escape forming and crumbling as I went. Murphy flared a bit, instantly overshadowed by my new neart. Though I'd had it for so little time, already it worked as a part of me, an extra limb. It was a whole different feeling than with Murphy, who seemed small and unruly in comparison. The new neart moved not of its own will, but as an extension of mine. It whispered in my mind, sending images of ways out, of the clearing littered with dead, and me standing triumphant, but I shook the vision away as quick as it'd appeared.