Chapter 7
"Are you sure you can handle this, sorceress- I won't have my people die for nothing." Castaspella ground her teeth together as Anvil repeated the question for a third time that morning. His shoulders were tense and he couldn't stand still. He was nervous, she assumed he got that way before a fight every time; or perhaps it was just so much was riding on her.
She repeatedly assured him that her powers were equal to the task at hand, she would not have proposed such a plan otherwise. They were going to take the outpost, raid it for supplies and technology and- unknown to Cast, kill the Commander in charge. A pig faced worm known as Commander Targ. He was an Impallan, one of the various races allied with the galactic Horde, Casta knew nothing about his species save they had willingly joined the Horde and were usually given ranks of honor in the Horde army. This one had obviously done something to displease Horde Prime to be given such an ignoble position on this lowly planet. He was greedy and stupid but not to be under estimated.
A convoy of Battle tanks were refueling at the Valcourian outpost and the parts would make valuable salvage for barter as well as weapons to be used against their makers. They would not take whole tanks because it would be impossible to hide their trail with them and even more impossible to maneuver them through the canyons where they made camp. Commander Targ had under him two regiments consisting of forty guards, all armed with lasers as well as turret cannons, the battle tanks and one squad of outdated batniks were the limits of his defenses. He also had a battalion of robot troops with a very old program they would be easy to dispatch. The spy inside would destroy the shield generator and give the signal to attack.
Anvil wanted to sneak in, kill the men and steal the technology, quickly, silently, stealthily. But Casta felt a strong need and desire to prove herself useful and powerful to the rebel commander; she opted for a full frontal assault. Her plan was to create a barrier of mystical energy around their people, allowing openings only when her people fired on the enemy. No weapon would touch them, no energy bolt or missile fired would land and the attack could be swiftly done with an impressive show of strength and power. If it worked the surviving enemies would report to Razita, the Shaddamite Force Captain, of the powerful Mystic aiding the rebels. It would take great energy and intense focus to control the power of the spell but Casta knew she was more than capable of the feat. They all understood her capabilities were limited to time. She would be able to run the barrier for twenty minutes at the most, plenty of time if they hurried, before her concentration would begin to falter.
She merely nodded her head to the rebel leader, not bothering to acknowledge his grunting reply.
"Then prepare yourself sorceress, there's the signal!" He hissed. A piercing whistle filled the air from the fortress, breaking the still silence that lay over the land at midday and coloring the blue sky above the compound with gold and ruby sparks, a burst of multicolored stars crackled briefly above the area.
"Now!" A cry echoed from the trees, down the line. It was the warrior maid, Chandra, her blades drawn and the light of battle lust in her eyes, staining her cheeks with a fiery blush. With a cry, the rebels burst from the forest and ran toward the compound.
Turning all her attention inward, Castaspella felt herself merge with the spirit of life on Etheria. She was one with creation, effortlessly maneuvering the planets energy which lay like a blanket upon the face of the land to act as a shield for her warriors. Watching with spirit eyes she seemed to view things in intensely slow motion, time had no meaning, no hold on her as she opened and closed holes within the pulsing golden barrier she had erected. Red beams lazily swooped from the walls to bounce harmlessly off her shield. Robots fizzled and fell where they touched it. The enemy continued to rain fire upon the advancing force to no effect. Several rebels carrying a battering ram ran at the door to the palisade. Castaspella added a touch of the earths energy to their impetus and they crashed through the steel door like it was papier-mâché.
The rebels, led by Anvil, swarmed in like hungry ants on a fresh kill. The enemy soldiers were quickly subdued and casualties were at a minimum. Twelve horde soldiers were killed and the robots completely destroyed. Commander Targ however, was barricaded in his quarters with several of his soldiers and refused to come out.
Casta came back to herself, slightly dizzy with the amount of power she had called on. Her eyes had a smoldering golden glow that would not fade for sometime. Flanked by Jornin and Jadzia, the peacock people she had brought with her, both armed with long spears tipped with venom, for her protection as well as their own, she walked quickly toward the palisade. Within the walls she found Anvil and Chandra deep in conversation and she walked towards them. The warrior maid glanced up at her approach and her face lit up with a genuine smile reaching her obsidian eyes, tiny lines forming at their slanted corners signifying real pleasure.
"Castaspella, that was amazing magic you worked back there, it could've gone a lot worse than it did." Casta smiled in return but her attention was on Anvil. The tall black man simply nodded a quick agreement, frowning fiercely the entire time.
"If we get one of the laser cannons and aim it at his quarters we could blast the door down and take him by force." He gruffly muttered. Chandra nodded slightly in agreement.
"It will take some time do disconnect one of the lasers from the turrets and reposition it here but since we are doing it anyway I don't see a problem with your plan. I just hate to lose the manpower for the salvage operation to guard the pig."
"What are you talking about?" Casta questioned. Chandra turned her attention back to the young but apparently powerful young sorceress.
"Commander Targ is hiding in his quarters with several of his men. We can't get in because apparently he has a small energy shield in his quarters specifically designed to shield him from attack. Until he is contained or placed out of commission he poses a danger to our people." Chandra explained.
"Besides," Anvil snarled, "I was looking forward to slitting his throat." Castaspella stared in shock at the vituperous hatred emanating from the man she was so attracted to.
"Is not the sacredness of life a tenet taught in Shaddamite?" She asked, uncertain and uneasy. Anvil turned his flaming eyes on her, looking at her fully for the first time since the attack began.
"Yeah it's taught. Which is why Targ must die." Castaspella frowned fiercely.
"Even the lives of the enemy should be sacred, it is possible for all people to change."
"Lady, you better shut your mouth, Impallens have no place on Etheria." Chandra laid a hand on Casta's arm shaking her head warningly.
"Impallan's feed on people. Didn't you know?" Castaspella turned white. The horror of such a repugnant reality forcing its way, like a parasite, burrowing into her mind with vivid images that had her feeling faint.
"What?! I…I had no idea…" An intense anger built up inside her. Burning her. Nausea and revulsion as she never felt rose up in her being. She was a leader and the plight of the people was her own. Her people had been made into meals for this animal. "I knew the horde were evil, I knew they were ruthless, they are my enemy," Her wide doe-eyes locked on Chandra's face in panic but there was no comfort to be found there, "but I never… even from them…" It was too much. The powerful swing of her emotions coupled with the mental fatigue of the spell and the residual energy effects of the magic took over, the magik's she had previously been filled with, which lay dormant till now, overrode her control, merging with the maelstrom of anger and disbelief and disgust inside her. Instinct held her in its thrall now. Jerking around she aimed her upright palm at a door several rebels were guarding and with eyes blazing golden power she unleashed her fury.
"Apart." She hissed. The metal door exploded, shrapnel flew everywhere, there were cries of shock and surprise, one man cried out with pain as a piece of the metal embedded itself into his back, his companions dragged him off. She did not notice this however as a dozen scarlet energy beams tried to take her down; her body absorbed the energy making her aura glow crimson.
"Melt." She snarled and the blasters firing at her melted, molten metal burning the hands that held them, incapacitating the soldiers. Rebels poured in to tie them up, slamming their weapons against resisting skulls to silence protests sure to come. The green faced Impallen squealed in terror, running to the back of the room, kneeling in a corner. He made a rather comical sight. He was a large, fat, five foot pig, kneeling and snorting in fear at the sight of the pagan goddess before him surrounded in a crackling aura of unspeakable power. Pity stirred her heart and her power flickered briefly, pointing at the pig she whispered a word allowing her access to his heart. She would see if this beast truly deserved to die. With the compassion that made her such a good and wise ruler she opened herself to the heart of her enemy.
"Truth." She breathed.
A maelstrom of images assaulted her then. She saw through his memories her people, sons and daughters of Etheria from the very young to the very old each one he consumed, every small young innocent roasted over a pit and devoured by his rapacious appetite. She felt herself getting lost in the swirling images, only her anger was powerful enough to lead her out of the torment she had created, this she clutched to and pulled her way out of the chasm in her mind, opened by such an alien evil. Her horror and fury erupted with a word.
"Death."
Commander Targ emitted a final squeal before exploding into green, bloody, oozy, bits of stinking mucus tinged flesh. Castaspella fell to her knees and began to vomit and cry. Her sobs were piercing. So full of grief and horror. She wept alone in the midst of the gore and violence she had created, no one dare touch her, too afraid of what they had just witnessed. The air in the compound was heavy and still, the smell, putrid as the lone woman on her knees gave vent to an innocence lost. Her shoulders shook as the mighty sobs spasmed their sorrowful path throughout her body. Her muscles grew limp, exhausted by her pain and the amount of power she had channeled.
Suddenly she felt two powerful arms wrap around her and clutch her tightly against a massive chest. She smelled his scent and cried all the harder. She had wanted to appear strong, to act as powerful and commanding as he and yet here she was, weeping in his arms like the smallest of children. But she couldn't seem to stop. The horror of what she had seen was too fresh, too vivid in her mind. But she had asked for it, not really believing even the Horde capable of such horrors. The naivety of the North-West was stripped from her now and she fully understood, finally, why Adora was forced to do as she had. The first ones were right, Adora was their only hope
The west was naïve in their ignorance, not fully understanding what the Horde was, protected by She-Ra and the rebellion, as well as Mystacor and Brightmoon and various other kingdoms, they were unaware of the true cruelty of the Horde. The East had long ago fallen and was ruthlessly held under its control. They knew the terror they fought, it was time Adora awoke the people of Etheria, that they could look on the Horde with new eyes and fight for the cherished hope of freedom.
Anvil held the woman in his arms as she cried her grief, trembling, a bit in awe of the power he had just witnessed. His emotions were reflected in the face of his comrades as well. They had just seen a man killed with a word. They all gazed at the women he held, with awe and fear and a glimmer of something he hadn't seen in a long while.
Hope.
As her sobbing subsided Anvil scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the stench and into the bright sun and clean air where she could recover herself from her horror and regain her lost composure.
"Are you sure you can handle this, sorceress- I won't have my people die for nothing." Castaspella ground her teeth together as Anvil repeated the question for a third time that morning. His shoulders were tense and he couldn't stand still. He was nervous, she assumed he got that way before a fight every time; or perhaps it was just so much was riding on her.
She repeatedly assured him that her powers were equal to the task at hand, she would not have proposed such a plan otherwise. They were going to take the outpost, raid it for supplies and technology and- unknown to Cast, kill the Commander in charge. A pig faced worm known as Commander Targ. He was an Impallan, one of the various races allied with the galactic Horde, Casta knew nothing about his species save they had willingly joined the Horde and were usually given ranks of honor in the Horde army. This one had obviously done something to displease Horde Prime to be given such an ignoble position on this lowly planet. He was greedy and stupid but not to be under estimated.
A convoy of Battle tanks were refueling at the Valcourian outpost and the parts would make valuable salvage for barter as well as weapons to be used against their makers. They would not take whole tanks because it would be impossible to hide their trail with them and even more impossible to maneuver them through the canyons where they made camp. Commander Targ had under him two regiments consisting of forty guards, all armed with lasers as well as turret cannons, the battle tanks and one squad of outdated batniks were the limits of his defenses. He also had a battalion of robot troops with a very old program they would be easy to dispatch. The spy inside would destroy the shield generator and give the signal to attack.
Anvil wanted to sneak in, kill the men and steal the technology, quickly, silently, stealthily. But Casta felt a strong need and desire to prove herself useful and powerful to the rebel commander; she opted for a full frontal assault. Her plan was to create a barrier of mystical energy around their people, allowing openings only when her people fired on the enemy. No weapon would touch them, no energy bolt or missile fired would land and the attack could be swiftly done with an impressive show of strength and power. If it worked the surviving enemies would report to Razita, the Shaddamite Force Captain, of the powerful Mystic aiding the rebels. It would take great energy and intense focus to control the power of the spell but Casta knew she was more than capable of the feat. They all understood her capabilities were limited to time. She would be able to run the barrier for twenty minutes at the most, plenty of time if they hurried, before her concentration would begin to falter.
She merely nodded her head to the rebel leader, not bothering to acknowledge his grunting reply.
"Then prepare yourself sorceress, there's the signal!" He hissed. A piercing whistle filled the air from the fortress, breaking the still silence that lay over the land at midday and coloring the blue sky above the compound with gold and ruby sparks, a burst of multicolored stars crackled briefly above the area.
"Now!" A cry echoed from the trees, down the line. It was the warrior maid, Chandra, her blades drawn and the light of battle lust in her eyes, staining her cheeks with a fiery blush. With a cry, the rebels burst from the forest and ran toward the compound.
Turning all her attention inward, Castaspella felt herself merge with the spirit of life on Etheria. She was one with creation, effortlessly maneuvering the planets energy which lay like a blanket upon the face of the land to act as a shield for her warriors. Watching with spirit eyes she seemed to view things in intensely slow motion, time had no meaning, no hold on her as she opened and closed holes within the pulsing golden barrier she had erected. Red beams lazily swooped from the walls to bounce harmlessly off her shield. Robots fizzled and fell where they touched it. The enemy continued to rain fire upon the advancing force to no effect. Several rebels carrying a battering ram ran at the door to the palisade. Castaspella added a touch of the earths energy to their impetus and they crashed through the steel door like it was papier-mâché.
The rebels, led by Anvil, swarmed in like hungry ants on a fresh kill. The enemy soldiers were quickly subdued and casualties were at a minimum. Twelve horde soldiers were killed and the robots completely destroyed. Commander Targ however, was barricaded in his quarters with several of his soldiers and refused to come out.
Casta came back to herself, slightly dizzy with the amount of power she had called on. Her eyes had a smoldering golden glow that would not fade for sometime. Flanked by Jornin and Jadzia, the peacock people she had brought with her, both armed with long spears tipped with venom, for her protection as well as their own, she walked quickly toward the palisade. Within the walls she found Anvil and Chandra deep in conversation and she walked towards them. The warrior maid glanced up at her approach and her face lit up with a genuine smile reaching her obsidian eyes, tiny lines forming at their slanted corners signifying real pleasure.
"Castaspella, that was amazing magic you worked back there, it could've gone a lot worse than it did." Casta smiled in return but her attention was on Anvil. The tall black man simply nodded a quick agreement, frowning fiercely the entire time.
"If we get one of the laser cannons and aim it at his quarters we could blast the door down and take him by force." He gruffly muttered. Chandra nodded slightly in agreement.
"It will take some time do disconnect one of the lasers from the turrets and reposition it here but since we are doing it anyway I don't see a problem with your plan. I just hate to lose the manpower for the salvage operation to guard the pig."
"What are you talking about?" Casta questioned. Chandra turned her attention back to the young but apparently powerful young sorceress.
"Commander Targ is hiding in his quarters with several of his men. We can't get in because apparently he has a small energy shield in his quarters specifically designed to shield him from attack. Until he is contained or placed out of commission he poses a danger to our people." Chandra explained.
"Besides," Anvil snarled, "I was looking forward to slitting his throat." Castaspella stared in shock at the vituperous hatred emanating from the man she was so attracted to.
"Is not the sacredness of life a tenet taught in Shaddamite?" She asked, uncertain and uneasy. Anvil turned his flaming eyes on her, looking at her fully for the first time since the attack began.
"Yeah it's taught. Which is why Targ must die." Castaspella frowned fiercely.
"Even the lives of the enemy should be sacred, it is possible for all people to change."
"Lady, you better shut your mouth, Impallens have no place on Etheria." Chandra laid a hand on Casta's arm shaking her head warningly.
"Impallan's feed on people. Didn't you know?" Castaspella turned white. The horror of such a repugnant reality forcing its way, like a parasite, burrowing into her mind with vivid images that had her feeling faint.
"What?! I…I had no idea…" An intense anger built up inside her. Burning her. Nausea and revulsion as she never felt rose up in her being. She was a leader and the plight of the people was her own. Her people had been made into meals for this animal. "I knew the horde were evil, I knew they were ruthless, they are my enemy," Her wide doe-eyes locked on Chandra's face in panic but there was no comfort to be found there, "but I never… even from them…" It was too much. The powerful swing of her emotions coupled with the mental fatigue of the spell and the residual energy effects of the magic took over, the magik's she had previously been filled with, which lay dormant till now, overrode her control, merging with the maelstrom of anger and disbelief and disgust inside her. Instinct held her in its thrall now. Jerking around she aimed her upright palm at a door several rebels were guarding and with eyes blazing golden power she unleashed her fury.
"Apart." She hissed. The metal door exploded, shrapnel flew everywhere, there were cries of shock and surprise, one man cried out with pain as a piece of the metal embedded itself into his back, his companions dragged him off. She did not notice this however as a dozen scarlet energy beams tried to take her down; her body absorbed the energy making her aura glow crimson.
"Melt." She snarled and the blasters firing at her melted, molten metal burning the hands that held them, incapacitating the soldiers. Rebels poured in to tie them up, slamming their weapons against resisting skulls to silence protests sure to come. The green faced Impallen squealed in terror, running to the back of the room, kneeling in a corner. He made a rather comical sight. He was a large, fat, five foot pig, kneeling and snorting in fear at the sight of the pagan goddess before him surrounded in a crackling aura of unspeakable power. Pity stirred her heart and her power flickered briefly, pointing at the pig she whispered a word allowing her access to his heart. She would see if this beast truly deserved to die. With the compassion that made her such a good and wise ruler she opened herself to the heart of her enemy.
"Truth." She breathed.
A maelstrom of images assaulted her then. She saw through his memories her people, sons and daughters of Etheria from the very young to the very old each one he consumed, every small young innocent roasted over a pit and devoured by his rapacious appetite. She felt herself getting lost in the swirling images, only her anger was powerful enough to lead her out of the torment she had created, this she clutched to and pulled her way out of the chasm in her mind, opened by such an alien evil. Her horror and fury erupted with a word.
"Death."
Commander Targ emitted a final squeal before exploding into green, bloody, oozy, bits of stinking mucus tinged flesh. Castaspella fell to her knees and began to vomit and cry. Her sobs were piercing. So full of grief and horror. She wept alone in the midst of the gore and violence she had created, no one dare touch her, too afraid of what they had just witnessed. The air in the compound was heavy and still, the smell, putrid as the lone woman on her knees gave vent to an innocence lost. Her shoulders shook as the mighty sobs spasmed their sorrowful path throughout her body. Her muscles grew limp, exhausted by her pain and the amount of power she had channeled.
Suddenly she felt two powerful arms wrap around her and clutch her tightly against a massive chest. She smelled his scent and cried all the harder. She had wanted to appear strong, to act as powerful and commanding as he and yet here she was, weeping in his arms like the smallest of children. But she couldn't seem to stop. The horror of what she had seen was too fresh, too vivid in her mind. But she had asked for it, not really believing even the Horde capable of such horrors. The naivety of the North-West was stripped from her now and she fully understood, finally, why Adora was forced to do as she had. The first ones were right, Adora was their only hope
The west was naïve in their ignorance, not fully understanding what the Horde was, protected by She-Ra and the rebellion, as well as Mystacor and Brightmoon and various other kingdoms, they were unaware of the true cruelty of the Horde. The East had long ago fallen and was ruthlessly held under its control. They knew the terror they fought, it was time Adora awoke the people of Etheria, that they could look on the Horde with new eyes and fight for the cherished hope of freedom.
Anvil held the woman in his arms as she cried her grief, trembling, a bit in awe of the power he had just witnessed. His emotions were reflected in the face of his comrades as well. They had just seen a man killed with a word. They all gazed at the women he held, with awe and fear and a glimmer of something he hadn't seen in a long while.
Hope.
As her sobbing subsided Anvil scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the stench and into the bright sun and clean air where she could recover herself from her horror and regain her lost composure.