Mallory leapt onto his horse and galloped across the lawn, sword gripped tightly in one hand as he guided the animal between villagers and guards, swinging where he could and absorbing the collisions as he went. He could feel the tremors shaking the ground and when the sunlight faltered, he glanced up to see the ship slowly materializing, as if the sky had been draped over it and were now draining away.
He'd heard stories of ships in the sky; he'd heard stories of other planets and other people's and he knew just how the Dironem came to be amongst them – how they took over. Swinging his sword roughly, he caught a soldier through the chest and launched himself off the horse to the ground to strip the man of his weapon, bringing it up to examine before taking aim at the ship in the sky and firing off a round, watching it strike with little effect.
Horace strode up beside him on another horse and called, "You think that pesky little thing was gonna shoot it down?" The other man turned the horse to behead a man before turning back to Mallory, "I've got an idea, but you're not gonna like it."
"When have I ever liked any of your ideas," Mallory laughed.
With a shrug, Horace offered, "Never, but that don't mean they don't work."
"Is it wrong that I wish Hansel was here?"
Frowning, the other man replied, "Boy would have come in handy, but the Doctor…"
He nodded, knowingly, watching him drop off his horse to ask, "What's your idea?"
"The explosives they use," Horace offered, glancing up and gesturing at the set of blue churning orbs on either side of the ship, "Suppose if we can launch enough of them into the glowing light – seems to be what powers their weapons."
"Like tossing the right drink into a fire."
Horace nodded, grin ready on his dirt streaked face. "But that's why we need Hansel?"
Nodding, Mallory admitted, "He'd find something to get it up there. Slingshot or…"
Glancing around, Mallory shrugged, imagining that the clever boy would be able to put something together, some sort of system of… he looked across the yard to a large wooden device he was unfamiliar with and he slapped Horace's chest with the back of his hand, "That looks like it'll do damage."
Clara heard them clear off a table, plates and food clashing and splattering to the ground as she was laid out atop it, a cool rag swiftly dropping onto her forehead as she continued to calm her breathing. It was becoming easier, the further she got from the machine, but she knew she needed to recover further before she could simply rush out to find the Doctor. Except, she could hear them talking and what they were saying was sending a surge of adrenaline through her veins.
"There's a ship in the sky," came a quiet voice and in a mess of whispers she understood the ship had appeared before and it had cut over the land with a beam they were terrified would be used again.
"What's going on?" Clara asked weakly.
"Miss, the villagers have launched a full on assault on the castle."
She smiled and felt a hand petting her in a soothing manor before she nodded and uttered, "Good."
"Not actually good," a male voice laughed, "We could die."
"We all have to die some time," she argued, pushing to sit up and automatically feeling the multiple sets of hands holding her down. "I have to go," Clara told them, blinking up at them and struggling to keep their faces in focus. "I need a drink," she sighed.
They all stared at her and she frowned; they knew she would try to get up the moment they went to fetch a cup of water and she imagined maybe Clarice was more like her than she thought. The maid touched her cheek with the back of her fingers and whispered, "Rest a moment, dear, we've been safe here."
"Clarice could be out there," she told them. They merely stared. "You know she's here."
Smiling, the maid offered, "Of course we know she's here; so's her mum." Then she pumped a fist like a punch as she growled, "And they're putting a hurting on these aliens."
There was a round of smiles that Clara closed her eyes to allow herself to relax and join in on, except she didn't know where the Doctor was – and she was terrified of what he'd get himself into, knowing she was in danger – and she didn't know if the machine had been de-activated. Clara didn't know if Oswin was safe and the guilt of that turned her stomach. Morda could still take any of the three of them to try to use the machine to get her army back home.
Of course, she knew, without Gonther, it might be difficult to navigate the settings, but she imagined the woman would find a way. Or kill them all trying. "I have to go," she grunted, pushing up past the hands now and bringing her cold fingers up to the sharp stab her chest gave as she stumbled off the table and landed on her knees with a shout.
"Please, just let us keep you safe," someone yelled at her and she understood: she had their face, if they couldn't protect Clarice and they thought they'd failed to save Oswin, the staff felt it their duty to protect Clara, and she nodded slowly, letting them lift her to sit in a chair.
But she looked to the woman now knelt in front of her and she told her sadly, "Just a few moments; I have to go out there and find the Doctor."
"No man is worth risking your life."
Clara smiled lightly and she shook her head, "This one is."
Annabeth hadn't had much experience in battle over the years – her and her husband had kept a peaceful society – but she'd had enough training at their forest camp to know how to defend herself and, with one daughter wielding a stolen pistol and the other cowering between them, she had enough motivation. She'd tried to get the girls out, but both entrances were swarming with guards; guards who had full use of their pistols without the Doctor's scanning device to stop them.
"Mum, we have to get to the main hall," Clarice shouted.
She couldn't help the smile that fell on her lips hearing her daughter call her 'mum' and when she turned, Annabeth could see the grin on Clarice's face at being able to say the word and mean it. She glanced to the woman holding tight to her dress, the baby girl she hadn't seen in almost twenty four years, giving her the same crooked smirk she'd always given her as an infant as she watched her – watched her mum protect her, and she wanted nothing more than to pull them both into a hold that would last an eternity.
But she understood it wasn't the time and as much as it pained her, she turned her eyes away from her daughters. Looking across the way at the large double doors, she nodded, but before she could even begin to rush forward, in a flash of light Morda appeared and glared over the crowd, reaching out quickly to the nearest of her own men to strip him of his sword before storming towards Annabeth.
Pushing Oswin towards Clarice, she stood between Morda and her daughters, her own sword ready, and when the other woman brought her blade down it sparked roughly against hers. The scowl on Morda's face turned up into a smile as she began to hack the air at Annabeth, laughter spilling out from her lips as Annabeth grunted against each strike in pain.
Clarice aimed the pistol she held, feeling the frail hands that gripped her left arm and she could hear Oswin telling her quietly, "No, please, don't," because the girl was afraid she'd shoot Annabeth and Clarice turned to look at her, seeing the genuine fear there.
"I have to try," she argued, shaking her head and watching Oswin slowly nod before lowering her eyes to the ground, chest rising and falling quickly as she silently prayed. Clarice raised the gun and waited, watching while wincing as Morda's sword continually collided with Annabeth's and she knew it was only a matter of time before her mother dropped her weapon from exhaustion.
And she fired.
With a surprised gasp and a quick swing of her sword, Morda deflected the burst of energy as Annabeth stabbed at her waist, listening to the grunt of pain as the metal pressed roughly into the armor she wore before Morda was able to backhand Annabeth to the ground. Stumbling back, Morda looking to her side with a grimace, seeing the slice the blade was able to tear out of the armored cloth, a thin line of blood standing out against her porcelain skin, before lifting her head to smile. Annabeth turned in time to watch Clarice raise her hand to the scorch mark just above her left breast as she stepped back into a stone pillar behind her in shock.
"No," Annabeth mouthed, crawling towards her as Oswin helped her to the ground.
Clarice looked to the space in front of her blankly and she smiled, crooked and amused, and she told her mother calmly, "No, no, it's alright."
Oswin pulled the cloak off her shoulders and reached out for a dagger at Clarice's waist, carefully cutting a strip and beginning to tend to her sister's wound. She gave a small hop over her legs and pressed the cloth to her chest, but she frowned and Annabeth understood – she didn't have enough strength to put the proper pressure the wound required. She moved to take her place as Morda laughed behind them.
"It's pointless, your majesty," she told them, striding towards them. "Oh, she'd survive that, but do you really think I'll let her?" She laughed, giving her sword a small swing in front of her as she watched the three women huddled together. Then she saw the identical momentary shift of their eyes to a space just behind her and she turned quickly, hand coming up to grip Clara's throat, giving her enough of a squeeze to drop the kitchen knife she held to begin grasping at the fingers curled around her neck. "Oh, lovely, it's you."
"Morda, please," Annabeth shouted, "Leave the girls."
Gesturing at Clara with her sword, Morda laughed, "This one isn't even yours." She glanced at Clara, "That is an interesting tale, I bet – one I would love to hear, but not more than I'd love to hear your last gasps before you die."
"No, please, no," Annabeth began, jerking towards Clara, but knowing she couldn't take her hand off Clarice's shoulder without risking more blood loss than she could survive. She could feel the rag held to the wound already soaking through.
Morda raised her sword to Clara's chest as she struggled to breathe, and she asked, "Who, exactly, are you?" She smiled, head leaning to the side, "You came with the Time Lord, didn't you." Laughing lightly, she nodded, "That does make sense, doesn't it. Meddlesome lot, Time Lords and their companions, except that your face has managed to almost single-handedly destroy twenty four years of waiting." Morda sighed then, her sword dropping as she brought Clara closer, "I think you deserve a fate worse than death, child."
"Don't look at her," Clarice muttered, feeling faint.
"Don't let her in," Oswin croaked, shivering with fear.
Clara tried to look away, but there was a blinding pain just behind her eyes, one that stilled the gentle swinging of her legs underneath her and made her hands tighten their grip on the wrist in front of her. She tried to shout out, but her teeth clenched together and she looked to the woman staring into her fiercely. The rest of the room blurred from view and her hands dropped away as she felt the cold swirls snapping through her thoughts, locking them in place, binding all but the most vital of functions.
The Doctor and Sloren came rushing up the steps just as Morda's fingers uncurled from Clara's neck and she went drifting to the ground.