by E. M. Havens
Sam was almost to the Black Widow. Maybe if she could just touch the contraption, its mysteries would reveal themselves.
Three men rushed towards her. Now they were clever. In her periphery Sam saw the garrison boys holding their own against the other guards. It was just Jensen and her.
Sam released her fury on the three attackers, blocking their timed attacks, lunging and slicing when openings appeared. They backed off and circled. Surrounded by the Fate, she felt the slightest twitch in Jensen’s back, pressed hard to hers. She took the cue, and spun under his arm, a move they had perfected. Her sword should come in contact with flesh before she could even see the target. It did, and she relished the spray of blood from the throat of a Fate, maybe the one who took her Cole.
Now there were only two left. Jensen stepped away, thrusting and parrying with his foe. Sam twirled her swords around once, bettering her grip on the hilts. Her eyes were only for the remaining Fate soldier before her.
He was not afraid of her. She could see it in his eyes. He thrust, she parried, reposted, and he backed up. That was too easy. He was toying with her. She would make him afraid, make him hurt.
Sam charged, slicing relentlessly at the man, sparks flying from her pin wheeling reign of blows against his sword. He only blocked, backed up and made no attempt to fight back. She twirled the swords again and circled, taking the moment to regain her breath. An evil grin twisted his face, and she charged again, her only thought to cut the slagging smile off.
Suddenly, everything was dark. Sam was flat on her back, an incessant ringing in her ears. Her body felt like she had been bucked from a horse and trampled, but especially her left hip. She tried to move, and someone screamed in agony. No, that was not another person. That was her. She forced her eyes open to see the grinning fate standing above her giggling like a child opening gifts.
“Not invincible, me thinks.” He grinned down at her, his rotten teeth as black as his eyes. “No, no, me thinks. Pretty, but not invincible. Resign yourself to the Fate.” The soldier placed his sword against her cheek, and caressed it gently. Sam became aware of her sword still in her hand, and made to strike at the man. Pain seared up her left side. He easily blocked the move, disarming her with a flick of his sword.
Sam fell back, panting for breath through the agony radiating from her hip as the insane Fate soldier danced merrily at his victory.
In the moment he was distracted, Sam focused past the pain and absorbed the scene. The man had set a trap for her. He led her under the Black Widow, letting her position herself beneath its leg. She was lucky to still be breathing. The leg barely missed her, scraping down her left side. She was bleeding, but not too badly. Somehow, she was pinned, a protrusion of metal from the Black Widow’s leg impaled through her belt. That would account for her immobility.
“Me thinks…yes me thinks…” Sam lost focus on his word. Her hand rested on the swaying leg of the Black Widow. The moan and groan of metal coursed through the machine to her fingertips. It spoke to her, sung as the vibrations swelled through the ground around her. Pictures, ideas, resolutions, connections, a flood of information from now unto birth snapped together in an instant. Sound.
She couldn’t disable the creature. Not injured as she was now.
Tears stung her eyes. She knew who could. No. Not him, too.
Yes, she told herself. It would be ok.
“Sprocket activate,” she whispered. He unfolded, and sat quietly on her chest, shuddering with her urgency. She picked him up with a shaky hand, and placed him on the Black Widow’s leg. Sprocket whirred in confusion, but clung to the rivets. His spindly gold legs clicked against the black metal.
“Sprocket defend.”
Her golden friend skittered up the leg, and disappeared through the closest joint without hesitation. A sword landed in her vision against the mech leg, just where Sprocket had disappeared. The impact sent painful vibrations into her damaged hip.
“What was that?” The soldier screamed at her. “What was that? What was that?”
She didn’t answer, only lay there in wait of her fate. She had nothing now anyway.
“No matter. Me thinks you die. You cannot escape the Fate.” The soldier giggled, and raised his sword to grant her peace.
He continued to stand, sword poised, and Sam wished he would get on with it. Color caught her eye. A crimson stain spread across his gray uniform at his navel. Slowly the man listed to the side, and clattered to the ground. She looked back to where he stood to see Cole, his bloody sword in hand.
Her mind worked frantically to comprehend the scene, until Cole raised a small twisted brass object.
“You owe me a naughty pocket watch,” he said, and tried to laugh, grabbing his ribs.
“Cole.” She said his name and repeated it over and over in her mind, convincing herself he was real.
“Yes. I’m Cole. You’re Sam.” He flashed that haughty smile at her, and for once it was endearing.
The black beast shuddered, and a panel fell from its belly. Sprocket must have found the heart. The giant creature wailed and groaned. Sparks began to fly showering Sam and Cole in a burning orange rain.
“Get me out,” she yelled, as tiny holes burned through her shirt and into her skin. He was already at her side, slicing through her belt with the dagger he carried in his boot. She tried to stand, but her hip wouldn’t support her weight. Cole attempted to pick her up as more hunks of metal fell around them, but he was too badly hurt. The creature began to sway, and Cole looped his arm around her waist. She used him as support. They both limped and stumbled away from the collapsing hulk as fast as their battered bodies would allow; each step sending a bolt of searing pain up her side and back.
A rumbling crash and agonizing groan thundered behind them. The ground shook, and a buffeting wind knocked them to their knees. They both tried to stand, but couldn’t. Instead they lay on their backs where they fell, hoping they were out of danger, as the whine of bending metal, and minor explosions echoed across the field from the pile that was once the Black Widow.
“You’re alive,” Sam said, when she could speak. The statement didn’t express the joy and relief in her heart. She wanted to kiss him, hold him, and look to see if he had more injuries. Her limbs wouldn’t obey.
“Yeah.”
“Did we win?”
“I don’t know. Let me see.” She felt him move, propping himself up on his elbows. His grunt of pain beckoned her to help him, but there was nothing left in her to give. “Well. I see the grey backs disappearing over the hill followed by red, blue, and half naked men in green dresses.” He lowered himself, and sucked in air through his teeth. “I’d say yes. We won. I don’t see the other two though. They must have retreated.”
“Other two?”
Cole looked at her through squinted questioning eyes. “Never mind,” he said.
She didn’t care what he was talking about. They had victory. But what kind of triumph would it be if she had lost him. She pushed the thought from her mind, and concentrated on his fingers entwining with hers. They won.
“I’m glad you brought your concerns to me first, Captain.” Cole eyed the man across his desk. Jensen had his confidence. Hell, he was sure the man saved him and Sam during the Black Widow Battle on numerous occasions, but could he trust him with this?
“Tell no one.”
“But sir – “
“Jensen.” Cole tried out his most authoritative look on the man. “Tell no one. Not about Sam’s eyes, not about Jasper, not about the Sovereign. Do you understand?”
Jensen shifted uneasily in his seat, and leaned forward.
“No, Sir, I don’t understand. She poses a risk, an extremely high risk.”
“Do you care about her at all Jensen, or is she just part of your duty?” Cole didn’t want to go here, but he would if it helped Jensen keep his mouth shut. The Captain looked at a spot over Cole’s head, and didn’t answer.
“Give me some time at least to figure t
his out, Jensen. If what happened to Sam at the battle gets out, she’ll be thrown in a cell with the rest of the brainwashed prisoners. Do you want to see her in a cell, Captain?” Saying it out loud sounded even worse.
“No, Sir.”
“Good. Then this stays between you and me. I’m counting on you to help me keep an eye on her.” Cole stood, and offered his hand to the soldier, who took it firmly. “Now, go get dressed for the parade.”
He walked the Captain to the door, and slapped his shoulder as they parted ways. Cole continued to his bed chambers.
He had tried indirectly to question Sam about what had happened when she saw the Sovereign and Jasper. As far as he could tell, she didn’t remember their appearance on the battlefield. It worried him. What was more troublesome was not knowing who had tampered with her mind or when.
Most of his worry faded when he slipped inside their quarters. Sam stood in front of a full length mirror studying herself. She wore black pants with knee high boots, several buckles keeping them firmly in place. Her white shirt was barely visible beneath the black waistcoat. The vest was of her design, partly pilfered from the armor of the Fate soldiers. It was costly to make, and only the most senior officers wore them. It looked like a normal gentleman’s vest, but inside was tiny chainmail.
The floor length duster she wore also had the bullet proofing in the upturned collar, protecting her neck. The hilts of her short swords peeked out the sides of the duster. Inside that coat, were pockets full of tools and weapons Cole would never understand. Her short hair was slicked back under a black cap with a short brim.
A scuffed and dented gold brooch was pinned to the jacket. Sprocket hadn’t activated since the victory. Sam had been working diligently to fix him, but so far he was beyond repair. However, his remains along with the Black Widow’s had provided her with very useful information on Jasper’s tinkering.
“Like what you see?” he asked, and joined her in front of the mirror. He could tell by her face that she didn’t. She tried on a smile for him, but discarded it. They made a handsome pair dressed alike, he thought.
“How did the meeting go with the Nakona?” she asked.
“Not good.” He scratched at the trim goatee he’d grown, to appear more trustworthy to their new potential allies. Why facial hair would indicate honesty was beyond his reasoning. “And yours with the Generals?”
“Hmph,” was her non-committal reply.
They had won the Black Widow Battle, but the Fate remained a threat. Instead of full on frontal attacks, the scourge had begun to resort to small clandestine assaults. This kept Sam busy, planning with the Generals, and creating a new combined army to defend the country.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind, and fighting with the stiff collar of her duster that kept him from nibbling that perfect spot that made her swoon.
“Look at me,” she said on the verge of tears.
He did and saw his stunning wife. “Beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.
“But will they think that? I’m supposed to be a princess. You know, bows, lace, proper hair.” she said, waving a frustrated hand at the window, indicating the crowd gathered for the victory parade.
Cole couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Obviously you haven’t looked outside.”
She gave him an inquisitive look, and limped toward the window.
“No you don’t.” He grabbed her arm, and pulled her back. “It’s time.”
She snuggled down into his embrace. “I love you,” she mumbled into his chest.
“I love you.”
She turned her face to him, and he pressed his lips to hers, savoring her passionate response. Her arms snuck into his duster, pulling him closer, and she teased his tongue with hers. He would stay in her embrace all day, but the sounding of trumpets called them to their place.
****
“Are you sure she’s alright to ride?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, Miss Sam,” Zeb replied. “Freedom will be okay for easy rides. No more runnin’ for her though.”
Sam limped to the black horse’s side, and ran her hands over the battle scars.
“Need a leg up?” Zeb asked after a while.
She grinned sheepishly, and nodded. Her hip would heal in time, too. The skin was still tight, and the muscles weak where it was torn, but heal it would, leaving a wicked scar. Zeb motioned to a stable hand to help her. The old man was getting the hang of management.
When she was seated comfortably on Freedom’s back, Sam took in her surroundings. Cole sat astride Octavious, stunning in all black atop a white horse. The goatee was growing on her. Jensen was directly behind them, followed by the rest of her Sagewood garrison boys, all dressed exactly like her and Cole.
The other Generals and officers had already exited the courtyard into the cobblestone street ahead. From the sound of cheers and applause, the sidewalks were packed, overflowing with citizens. Sam’s stomach clenched at the thought of so many people staring at her like this.
They would be looking at a supposed hero. She felt anything but. They may have won this battle, but the threat remained. Not only were the Fate still testing the borders, but she had yet to fully understand the mech that Jasper was providing them. Sorrow clenched her heart at that thought. If there had been any doubts at all before of Jasper’s loyalties to the Fate, they were obliterated with his creation of the Black Widow. He was now her enemy.
It was their turn, and Cole gave her a playful grin as they walked their mounts through the gates.
As loud as the crowds were before, a deafening cry arose from the people when she and Cole came into sight. Whistles and screams created a wall of sound.
“Princess Samantha!” People shouted in recognition. “Over here!”
Sam was going to keep her eyes forward, try not to look at anyone, but as the cheering increased she turned her head when her name was called.
Sam had been in parades before as a child, dressed in all her finery, aloft in an open carriage. The crowd had been calm and quiet besides the band. The little girls along the way were dressed in their best, with fake crowns of flowers, and sticks for scepters.
The girls in this parade were dressed as her as well. Riding pants and peasant blouses, with wooden short swords.
She forced back the tears as they continued on their path. There were young boys dressed in Alliance black, and some girls were still in princess dresses. One child wore her Sunday best carrying two wooden short swords. Sam couldn’t help but laugh and gave the girl a wave.
She was almost sad the ride was over when they reached the square, and ascended to the stage. She and Cole sat in the high backed thrones draped in Alliance black, King Arnold in an Arboreal red one. Representatives from Perspicia and Nakona both held positions on the stage as well.
King Arnold nodded to them as he crossed the stage that was filling up with cut flowers the citizens threw. He held his hands up, and waited for the crowd to quiet. When they did, Sam was surprised at just how quiet so many people could be. The King projected, to be heard as far into the throng as possible. Sam thought she could create a contraption to help him with that. She would work on it later.
“Today we are here to honor the heroes of the Black Widow Battle.”
The crowd erupted in cheers again, but quieted quickly with a wave of the King’s hand.
“Many were lost. Arboreals, Perspicians, and our new friends, the Nakona, as well. They fought valiantly for our freedom, and our land. For that we will be ever grateful.” A rumble of agreement rippled through the people. “There are many heroes of the battle with the Fate. Many names and tales have been spoken over your meals or exchanged between friends while sharing ale the past weeks. Stories of feats of bravery and selflessness. But there was one hero. One person who, without great personal sacrifice and fortitude of mind and spirit, this victory would not be possible.”
Sam felt Cole’s hand on hers. He squeezed, and she peered into his sea gr
een eyes. They had it wrong. She wasn’t the hero. She wouldn’t be here if it were not for him.
“Without further ado, I present to you, the Heroine of the Black Widow Battle, Master Tinker of Arborea, the new General of the Alliance Army, Princess Samantha of Perspicia!”
She rose to receive her medal, and appointment to the thunderous shouts of the people. A rain of flowers cascaded over her. This battle was won, but the conflict had just begun. Together, with Cole, she knew they would win the Fate War.
Sam sat hugging her knees in the darkened bedroom. Fear and adrenaline prickled across her skin from the nightmare. She fought to control her breathing and slow her heart. Cole snored softly next to her on the bed unaware. Either she hadn’t screamed this time, or he had become used to her frequent awakenings.
Things had changed after the battle and his presence no longer kept her dark dreams at bay. Not only had they returned, but it took her longer and longer to reclaim herself after them.
The dream itself had changed too. It now began with a morbid parade of the faces of the men she had killed. Even the Alliance soldiers she had sent into battle haunted her. Then she was strapped to the table again with Head Mistress Ravana looking over her. Pain wracked her body and Ravana morphed into Jasper, his hand on the generator switch. Finally, Jasper became another man.
This man frightened her most. Though he had a fist sized hole through his chest above his heart edged in plates of metal, it was the strange power he exuded that scared her. It both drew and repelled her simultaneously, paralyzing her in agonizing limbo.
She listened to Cole’s breathing and struggled to focus on reality. He loved her. She trusted him. She was safe.