Brass Automaton

08 - Wash of Fear

Ceridwen ran from her chamber screaming for her Tenyks. "Below! Below!" she shrieked. "There is a tunnel below the keep! Rally! Rally all! Head down at once and defend the Keep! Defend it to the last of you!"

Tenyks ran from her, scattering like leaves in a gust of wind. Some headed below the keep right away, while others issued orders to the groups they were charged with. Ceridwen felt a wash of fear creep over her. Her Tenyks' were at their weakest when relying on their own initiative, a situation unavoidable when fighting in the dark, unknown catacombs below her Oossah Keep.

She bit her knuckle in a mix of fright and fury, only to knock her tooth on its smooth, brass surface. She had lost complete control of the spell, and her true, metal form had almost consumed her again. Given the current threat, it wasn't worth the expenditure of magick to mask. She may well yet need the reserve from the men she'd already killed. One and a half, really, she thought, as her mind returned to its cold pragmatism. She needed a contingency plan for herself. With no reflections, she couldn't use the mirror's magick shard to guide the battle as she had before. Her only hope was that it wasn't too late, and the Tenyks could overwhelm Queen White's forces.

* * *

Snow White looked out over the ranks of her Sisters. There were more of them than she had ever thought possible. Her elevated view from her steed and the slight rise in the cavern floor afforded her the authority that the Sisters' readily gave. Their uniforms were not just for quick identification in battle, but also to make determining their number that much harder for Ceridwen's spies. Mounted women with spears, sabers, and cutlasses patted and reassured their nervous steeds. There weren't enough horses for everyone to have, so those that did trained long and hard with their equine partners. All eyes turned to their warrior queen.

"My dearest Sisters," she said, choking up just a bit, "you have always filled me with such pride." She paused as an appreciative rumble cascaded over the gathered warriors. "Whether it was in the desperate hours of our flight from she who would usurp us, the carving of a new life for us below ground, or even-" she paused to gather her breath. "Or even when we did everything, everything, that had to be done to ensure our safety. You have stood tall against every challenge. And now, we have one last battle to fight."

This time, the vocalization from the Sisters was an eager growl, echoing louder off rough-hewn walls than only moments before. "We have been waiting for this moment a long time," Snow continued, "it has taken years of patience and fortitude to reach this point, to align ourselves so the blow we strike will be a killing one. Ceridwen's power is immense, but I shan't give her the honor of 'Queen' or 'Ruler' or any other title beyond, 'Criminal.' Today we march. We shall strike the final blow in our war against her, and our freedom shall finally be at hand!"

The gathered Sisters erupted in cheers, hollers, and other cries of exuberance. Snow smiled at their display of fanatical devotion to their cause and dismissed her desire to shush them, lest they alert Ceridwen to their presence.

"Ride my Sisters, ride! It is our past, our present, and our future that we shall now avenge! Ride!" Though her final exhortation was lost in the cacophony of hoof beats, footfalls, and clattering of armor.

* * *

King John removed the Golden Apple from the scale, turning his back on the creaking door to the secret chamber. The glass shard in his other hand had gone blank after briefly clouding over like the morning mist. He paused and revised his previous thought: more like the fetid mist rising from a putrid swamp. He felt the weight of both, no longer surprised that the shard weighed more. He looked up to Heaven in supplication for strength and confirmation of his path.

The Gods, though, as ever, were silent to him as he slumped to his knees in despair.

* * *

Snow walked down the slight rise after dismounting as the last of her Sisters marched out of the cavern. She had but two additional pieces of business to attend to before she could join them in glorious battle.

"Friend Dwarves," she said to the awkward seven figures before her, "my gratitude is upon you. If you wish to fight, I will not stop you. If you would like to stay, I will not implore you. You have already done your part better than I could have ever dreamed."

"We will do as we intended," replied King Odc with a scowl, "you do not rule over us."

Snow hid her smile at the unfortunate choice of words by the dwarven king. "I realize this, King Odc, I would merely offer an idea." She paused to size up the stout man. "A plan if you will."

"I knew it!" bellowed Prymgu, "I told you all! She's never going to be done! Well!? What would you have us do now?"

"Easy there," commanded the leader of the dwarves, taking the conversational reins again. "What is your 'thought' Queen White?"

Ever the strategist, Snow detailed her contingency plan should the worst befall the battle against Ceridwen and the Tenyks.

* * *

Ceridwen walked down corridors suddenly quiet as the last of the Tenyks descended into the tunnels and catacombs below her purloined palace. Each step of her brass legs echoed that much more across desolate halls as she planned for, and against, the possibilities of the coming battle. Thoughts ran through her head; looking, seeking, for connection, but they struggled against the quietus of her solitude.

Her solitude...

The Tenyks were all in the tunnels...

They were all in the tunnels, leaving her alone...

"It's a trap!" she screamed into the emptiness, her cry echoing off of pristine stonework. She lumbered toward her chambers, her magick forgotten, to prepare for what was to come.