Fate War: Alliance (34 page)

“Can you disable it?” Cole yelled over the revving weapon and the fresh clash of metal as the Sagewood garrison met the Black Widow’s guard. He directed his mount to a tangle of brush and scrubby trees that might give them a moment to regroup.

“I…I can’t,” she wailed. When they reached the tentative safety of the thicket, he looked over his shoulder. Sam’s eyes reflected sorrow and frustration. “I can’t,” she repeated. “I can’t see how it works. Just like Sprocket. I don’t even know how I could make it to the engine, or whatever powers the thing.” She caressed the gold brooch on her chest at the mention of her friend.

“One more pass, maybe?” Cole grasped at hope.

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Cole kicked Octavious, and they burst from the thicket at a dead run towards the Black Widow. Jensen and the men were fighting a valiant battle. More Fate had joined in the defense of their weapon, and the soldiers weaved in and out of the legs of the giant beast. Jensen clashed swords with a Fate then pushed hard, leaving the man in the path of the Black Widow’s descending leg. The Fate soldier was squashed, no longer discernible as human. He couldn’t spare more attention to their fight. Cole searched the far end of the field for a place to hide while Sam thought.

They were about to finish their pass of the Black Widow when Sam’s arms went slack around him, she was slipping from the saddle.

“No!” Cole reached back with one hand to keep her from falling as he reined Octavious to a halt. She slid to the ground, and he was off in an instant too, expecting to see her wounded, bleeding and dying. To his relief she stood solidly on two feet, staring. Relief was short lived, when he saw her eyes. Black soulless, Fate eyes staring past the metal beast to the hilltop beyond.

“Sam!” he screamed in her face, and shook her shoulders trying to bring her back, but she only stared. Cole grabbed her telescope from her belt, and looked in the direction she faced. His breath caught, and his heart clenched in his chest. Two men stood atop the hill. One, unkempt blond haired, green eyed, and without any doubt an older male copy of Sam. Jasper.

It was the second man that doused his insides with cold fear. He would be unremarkable; close cropped dark hair, clean shaven, rows of color on his grey Fate uniform; except for the hole. Where his heart should be was a fist sized hole, straight through with blue sky visible on the other side.

The hole was surrounded, around and through, with shining silver armor, like a knight of old. The man without a heart. The Fate Sovereign.

“Slag, Sam! Stop!”

Jensen’s strained yell pulled Cole away from the unsettling men. Sam had walked away, straight toward the hill.

“There,” Jensen yelled to Cole. The Captain was entangled with two Fate, and Cole followed the man’s line of sight to a grey clad soldier who had just finished reloading his musket.

“Sam,” Cole screamed, desperately hoping she would surface. Cole ran to close the distance between them. The Fate raised his musket. Aimed.

“Sam,” He screamed again, and dove to cover her. The air around him exploded in sound. He could no longer breathe, and a great weight settled in his chest. He prayed for her safety as their bodies tumbled to the ground, then peace and darkness embraced him.

Darkness. Everything was dark and…

The ground rumbled beneath her, a heaviness held her there.

The ground. Dirt, grass in her mouth. She spit it out.

“Sam” the word filtered through the swish of her heart beat, and ringing in her ears. No other sound.

“Sam,” the distant voice said again. They sounded serious, but it was so quiet.

Sam. She was Sam.

The ground rumbled again, the sound coursed through her body, her soul. The weight was gone, and hands pulled at her arms causing a burning pain in one. The person stood her on her feet. Light blinded her, so she looked down, away from the sun.

“Sam, we have to go.” the voice was so urgent. Hands pulled her, but she saw something, and it was supposed to be important. Green grass, dirt, a hand, a wedding band. The hand belonged to a man. The man had smoke coming from a small singed hole in his waistcoat above his heart. The man did not move.

The voice wanted to make her leave the man. She turned, and shoved the palm of her hand into the face of the insistent one, who let go of her to stop the flow of blood from his nose. Falling to her knees, she cradled the face of the man. She couldn’t see his eyes. She knew they were blue, no green. Blue and green. Cole.

A deluge of sound flooded her mind. Men screaming, yelling, sword clash, gunfire, and the rising rumble. The noxious smell of sulphur, and burnt flesh gagged her.

“Cole.” Her memories flooded in too. “No!” Sam held his face between her hands, the loss shattering her as the Fate weapon did the airship. Sorrow threatened to immobilize her, but a thunderclap pulled her attention to the Black Widow. It began gearing up for another discharge. Sam watched the wicked machine for a moment, then turned her eyes to her men fighting for country and freedom.

Sorrow flowed out, spilling to the ground like the soldiers’ blood around her. In its place molten fury burned and bubbled. They would pay. Cole was everything, and they would pay.

The shing of metal as she drew her swords was like the quiet tapping of the conductor’s baton to begin a symphony.

“Slag you.” Jensen said flatly, wiping the blood from under his nose with his sleeve.

“Slag you, too.” Her response was just as emotionless. She didn’t have to look back to know he fell in step behind her as she stormed towards the Black Widow. There had to be a way to disarm it.

Between her and the giant mech stood more Fate guarding the beast. She raised her swords, inviting the battle to begin. The first soldier charged. He must think her an easy target. She sneered, and sidestepped letting him impale himself on the sword she knew Jensen would have waiting for him.

The next man was a little more wary, and struck with precision at her throat. She blocked the move with one sword, muscles straining under the force. She couldn’t hold back the strike for long, but she only needed a moment to slice through his gut with her other sword. Her upper armed burned with the movement. She must be injured. It didn’t matter. The pressure was released as the man fell to the ground clutching his gapping abdomen.

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?”