by E. M. Havens
“Help!”
The cry brought her fully conscious. For a moment, she was disoriented as she took in the meadow before her and the man sleeping against the tree frighteningly close.
“Cole.” She whispered, as memory trickled in. The nightmares did that. They robbed her of the present.
“Somebody help!” The cry was distant, barely audible.
“Cole.” He stirred, hand searching for something in his lap.
“Cole.” Samantha said louder. She should shake him, try and rouse him. Another sound filtered into the meadow, the crunch of metal gears and thump of hydraulic pistons. The distant sound was followed by a slight tremor through the ground.
“Cole!” Samantha yelled. This time she reached without hesitation, shaking his shoulder.
“Samantha?” His eyes opened, a smile on his face. It faded quickly at the concern etched in hers.
“Help!” The voice, much closer now and definitely a child’s, sent Cole to his feet. He unsheathed his sword which was propped against their tree. His other hand rested at the ready on his pistol. The metallic noise began to repeat itself every few seconds. Each time it sent a stronger and stronger shudder through the meadow.
“Help!” A young peasant boy burst through the tree line not far from their picnic site. He didn’t see Samantha and Cole and continued his panic stricken retreat.
“Christopher!” Cole called out and ran to the boy. The child stopped midstride and turned to them.
“Cole?” he cried in a mixture of relief and terror.
“What are you doing here? What’s going on?” Cole implored, while his arms encircled the youth with a fatherly embrace. The boy clung to him. Tears streaked his face, but he pushed away to address his Prince.
“Fate.” His eyes were wide with the truth of the terror.
“Where? How many?” Cole unholstered his pistol, and the boy pointed toward the increasing mechanical sound. The boy offered no more information.
“Come on.” Cole commanded.
“Get the bridles.” He told Samantha. He need not have ordered her. The tone of his voice left no room for disobedience, in either her or the boy. In a matter of moments, the boy was settled on Octavious while Samantha bridled the horse.
“Ride to town. Alert the guardsmen at the garrison. I have to find out what we’re dealing with.” Christopher’s eyes were wide, and his lip trembled. “You can do this.” Cole encouraged, clasping the boy by the shoulder like a man. The boy sat straighter in the confidence of the Prince. “Lead them back here, and hurry!” Cole slapped Octavious’ rump, and the horse charged forward. Before the boy and horse were out of the clearing, Cole directed Samantha.
“You have daggers?”
“No.” she replied confused.
“Take this.” He handed her a dagger that had been sheathed in his boot. “Unhobble Freedom, and ride south after the boy. You can’t miss the road. Take it east and you’ll come to the town. They’ll take care of you.”
Cole leaned toward her but hesitated. He turned back to the forest, sword and pistol at the ready. Samantha stood, frozen. A flock of black birds erupted from the forest canopy, as the trees trembled with each squelch of mechanics and hum of hydraulics. Breaking free from her fear, Sam ran toward Freedom. The horse stood on the opposite side of the meadow observing the forest, ears flicking nervously. She let Samantha approach, but would have nothing to do with the attempts at unbuckling the hobble. Samantha knew her own fear fueled Freedom’s. Her efforts to calm herself fell short as she struggled to set the hobbling horse free.
The sound of a pistol discharge sent Freedom over the edge, and she tried to run. The hobble still in place, the horse hit the ground and lay struggling on her side. Samantha turned to see Cole return fire at a gray clad Fate soldier. The bullet found its mark in the center of the man’s chest, indicated by a spark of ricochet. He must have been wearing some kind of armor. The Fate soldier advanced on Cole. They both holstered their pistols, having discharged their one ready shot. A small wave of relief washed over Samantha as the danger of Cole being shot was gone. It was replaced with fear as the two men clashed swords.
Samantha turned her attention back to Freedom who was frantically trying to stand. Samantha dove between her thrashing legs and severed the hobble with Cole’s dagger. The horse was up in an instant, and Samantha attempted to keep Freedom from bolting with the lead rope. The panicky horse screamed and reared, eyes full of terror. Samantha turned back again to see what had freighted the horse. Paralyzed at the sight, Samantha let Freedom’s lead slip through her fingers. She didn’t even notice her horse disappearing across the meadow.
A configuration of metal, as tall as two men emerged from the forest. It resembled a man, with legs and arms. The arms didn’t end in hands. Where one hand should be, there appeared to be a cannon. Inside the barrel, mechanisms spun. Where the head should be, sat a gray clad Fate. His hands worked over controls. The mechanical man pivoted, pointing the cannon arm at the battling Cole and the other Fate soldier.
The clink of connecting swords was drowned out as the cannon arm of the mechanical man began to emit a high pitched whining. A moment later the arm discharged. Samantha could see nothing exit the cannon, but a tree near Cole sprouted a new splintered knothole. Cole was mostly oblivious to the new threat as he lunged and then defended with his sword. She had to help.
Without hesitation, Samantha dashed toward the mechanical man studying it as she crossed the meadow. The whine began to build in the cannon arm. She had to hurry. None of them noticed her as she crossed the field, staying just beyond their periphery. She tried to ignore the sounds of exertion coming from Cole now. He was tiring.
Samantha put the dagger in her mouth as she reached the metal monstrosity. Using her momentum, she launched herself onto a large bolt at the “ankle” of the machine. She reached for a handhold at the knee and missed. The cannon arm had almost reached its discharge pitch.
She tried again, desperate to stop the next volley aimed at Cole. This time her hand found the mark. She used the leverage and other footholds to climb up to the knee. There she sliced a hose, and the high-pitched whine began to die down. She hoisted herself up to the torso and disengaged a wire. She swung to the other side, popped open a panel and jabbed the dagger deep.
The entire machine slumped. Samantha jumped down and ran to the safety of the woods. She wasn’t sure if the metal beast would stay standing once disabled. Her actions attracted attention though, and the furious Fate that controlled the mechanical man dropped to the ground. His hate filled eyes locked on Samantha.
She ran. Fear flooded her veins, and her already exhausted limbs screamed as she pushed them harder. Tree limbs reached out to hinder her. Rocks jumped into her path to trip her, but she drove on. The only sounds were her blood rushing through her ears and the crunch of footsteps gaining on her.
One second she was running and the next her head was jerked backwards. She screamed in shock and pain. She twisted with the movement, landing hard on her knees and looking down at Fate Grey pant legs. She couldn’t look up. The soldier still held her braid and pulled at it, forcing her eyes to the ground.
“Accept the Fate, and you will be spared to serve the Sovereign.” The soldier commanded.
“Sam!” she heard Cole cry over her ragged breathing. The Fate soldier pulled again at her braid to make her stand. She took the opening and pulled back painfully against him.
“The Fate is unstoppable. Resign to the Fate.” The soldier ordered and shifted his weight to pull her forward. Samantha reached around with Cole’s dagger and hacked the braid in half. The soldier fell backwards, and so did Samantha.
Unfortunately, she fell down, and the well trained soldier regained his balance. She tried to scramble to her feet. She made it a few steps but was slammed into the ground by the body of the Fate soldier.
“No.” she screamed and tried to wriggle from under him. She was flipped to her back as his weight lifted from h
er. Then a Fate boot slammed into her stomach. It pinned her, leaving her breathless. She tried desperately to push his foot off as the soldier unsheathed his sword. He raised it two handed, the razor sharp point above her throat. He would kill her. She could see it in his black, soulless eyes.
“Sam!” Cole’s voice was distant.
The Fate would end her life if she didn’t end his first. She commanded, “Sprocket Defend!”
“Sam!” Cole shouted and dislodged his sword from the dead Fate soldier. He dashed into the forest, his heart pounding even harder at the sound of her scream than it had in the sword fight. She hadn’t escaped on Freedom, and in the midst of his battle with the Fate Soldier, he had seen her disable the mechanical man in seconds.
“No!” she screamed. He ran on, clearing logs and breaking tree limbs that dared to hinder him. He could see her on the ground. The Fate soldier slammed his boot into her stomach.
“Sam!” He screamed. His voice shattered with the agony of knowing he wouldn’t make it. His heart felt like it would explode, not from his exertion, but from the thought of what the soldier would do with the sword he was drawing. A breadth of a hand separated her from death, and half a forest stood between him saving her, but he pushed on.
“Sprocket Defend!”
Cole paused for only a second when a golden crablike creature appeared on Samantha’s shoulder. He continued to run as the metallic thing skittered up the Fate soldier’s sword and then onto the man’s arm. The Fate soldier stepped away from Samantha in surprise, which relieved Cole, but only a fraction.
The soldier swatted unproductively as the chattering assailant scurried up his arms and around his torso. Bloody streaks appeared through slashes in the Fate’s grey coat everywhere the creature moved. The metal animal screeched and lunged for the man’s throat. The Fate soldier clasped a hand to his neck. The move was useless. A crimson fountain spilled from between his fingers.
Cole reached Samantha as the man fell to the ground, gurgling and gasping for breath.
“Sam.” he called, kneeling by her side. “Ah!” Sharp pinpricks traveled the length of his arm and a flash of gold registered.
“Sprocket Stop!” Samantha screamed. Cole saw on his shoulder, the hand sized golden creature. It resembled a crab, but instead of pincers the thing had needle like talons, which were poised above his jugular vein. One swipe from those claws and he would be as dead as the man next to him.
“Sprocket Home.”
Cole flinched. The creature skittered back down his arm and onto Samantha’s chest where, with the distinctive shing of metal, it folded itself into her favorite brooch.
Cole stared at Samantha as she made sure the deadly jewelry was secure. He tried to settle on one question to ask when so many were vying for position. However, all thought left his mind except to comfort Samantha when she began to cry.
He frantically checked her for injury, her tears cleaning streaks through her dirty face. He pulled her to her feet to inspect further, but besides a few scratches there were no serious injuries.
“What’s wrong? What’s hurt?” he pleaded.
“You called me Sam,” she wailed through her tears. Not knowing how to respond, he wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight. She didn’t flinch. Her arms responded, and she pulled him in tighter. “No one is supposed to call me that.”
“I’m sorry,” he said into her hair, which he realized was different from the last time he saw her.
“No!” She pulled back from him, but didn’t release her arms. “I like it. That’s who I was – before.” She buried her face in his chest, and held him tighter. He wished he could stay in this moment forever and ask the many new and unanswered questions he had. In this moment, she was not afraid of him, or of disappointing him. However, darkness was falling and he didn’t know if there were more Fate in the forest.
“Sam,” Cole said tentatively. “Sam, we have to go. It’s not be safe.”
She released her grip and nodded, wiping tears from her face and sniffing. Sam paused, then walked to a clump of bushes and retrieved something. When she turned, what was left of her braid dangled from her fingers. She held it as one would a soggy dead rat. Cole was ready for the onslaught of fresh tears.
“I hated all that hair,” she seethed, and threw the tangled mass deep into the woods with a grunt. She closed her eyes and breathed as a swimmer surfacing from too much time spent in the deep. Cole stood out of her way, not knowing what she wanted or needed from him. He was also a little afraid that her jewelry might come to life and attack him.
Sam finally opened her eyes. She touched her hair to inspect the damage and suddenly looked self-conscious.
“It’s not too bad, is it?” she squeaked.
“No.” Cole chuckled at the womanly exhibition of extreme and diverse emotion. “Just a little uneven.” He picked up the forgotten dagger and adjusted the length of her hair on one side. He stepped back to take in the new Samantha and grinned. It suited her. The hair hung just above her shoulders. He would have preferred it longer, but felt as if he were looking at Samantha for the first time. The real Sam. “Perfect.”
****
The door snicked shut to their room at the Sagewood Inn. Sam had never heard such a relieving sound. After the attack she had faced a garrison of soldiers who secured the scene for the night and ran down Freedom for her. Then, accompanied by her husband she had ridden through town to the inn, all in her riding clothes. Cole had promised no one would see her. She didn’t blame him though. It wasn’t his fault the Fate were there. She was just glad to be hidden away for a moment.
She took in the tiny room while Cole fidgeted with the rusty slide lock after dropping the saddle bags near the door. A small bed with a rustic multicolored quilt under a lace curtained window, a wash stand in the corner and a desk and chair were the only items of furniture. Even those crowded the room. Sam’s respite from feeling uncomfortable was over now. There would be no distance between her and Cole this evening.
Frantic footsteps thudding up the stairs only added to her tension. These were not the thick stone walls of the castle she was used to.
“Cole!” a familiar young voice beaconed from the other side of the door, which rattled with impatient pounding. “Cole!”
“Hold on!” Cole yelled back as he tried to unlock the stubborn mechanism again. He glanced once over his shoulder at Sam, his expression unreadable.
The bolt finally free, the door burst open and the child from the meadow rushed in, throwing his arms around Cole. “You’re okay.” His words were muffled into Cole’s stomach.
“I’m okay? I’m just glad you’re okay. What in the world were you doing out there anyway?” The boy just shrugged. Cole returned the hug and gave him a pat on the back. Extracting himself from the child’s grip, Cole made the introductions. “Samantha, this is Christopher. He lives in Sagewood. I visit this town often. Most of the residents know me. Christopher, this is Princess Samantha, my wife.”
The boy let loose of Cole and faced the Princess. He wrinkled his nose as he took in her appearance. “She don’t look like a princess.”
“Christopher!” Cole admonished.
“Christopher!” The voice of an exasperated woman called from down the hallway. Cole and Christopher exchanged wide-eyed, we’re-in-trouble looks.
“Uh oh. She must’ve heard,” Christopher moaned. Cole and the boy headed to the door.
“I’ll be right back. I might need to mediate,” Cole called over his shoulder with a strained chuckle, pulling the door shut behind him.
Sam couldn’t make out individual words through the walls, but the tone of the woman’s voice made her glad she wasn’t Christopher. Cole said something placating and her tone softened a bit, worry the dominant cadence now.
A flash of jealousy coursed through Sam, having never had such concern spoken over her. It was short-lived, as the woman went back to scolding. Finally, the staccato of farewells were exchanged.
S
am stiffened when the door opened again and Cole sauntered in, a huge grin on his face. He sobered quickly and bolted the door.
“Start talking,” Cole said unapologetically and flopped to his back on the tidy but small bed. Sam hadn’t reacted outwardly when he suggested they share a room out of appearance. The perception of Alliance strength was, of course, paramount to his reasoning. She had silently agreed, but now stood, back to the door, fixing her cuticles. Her eyes searched the room, as if the lace covered window could not be the only viable emergency exit.
Cole propped his head up on one hand, and studied her. Fearless Sam had retreated somewhat since the fight. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy; freedom from mindsets and perceptions of self. Freedom from anything never came all at once; it gained ground like a steam engine did from a standstill. Pressure built, the arms turned, the wheels spun and the blasted contraption didn’t move a hair. Repeat. Pressure built, the arms turned, the wheels spun and there was but a breath of forward motion. The process continued over and over, faster and faster until a momentum was achieved with unstoppable force.
Cole sighed, resigned, wondering where in the process Sam was. It was frustrating, but a ride he was more than willing to take. He mentally stepped back in order to pull her forward.
“It would have looked bad for our Binding if we took two rooms,” he said. She nodded at his words, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We need to talk about today.” Or rather, he needed answers. Again she nodded, but stayed pinned to the door. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. “Fine, let’s start with the mechanical man. How did you know how to disarm it?”
“I just knew.” She shrugged, still fixing her tortured nails.
“You just knew.” He sat up, buoyed by a fresh wave of fear. “How can you just know something like that?” Unless you have previous knowledge, he wanted to add. She couldn’t be Fate.
