Chapter 11
Onyx was furious.
She was also exhausted. The orders had come two days ago. She was to take her honor guard and ride for Rendwoll. After the taking of Blackmoor she returned to the front, watching the siege of Brightmoon with a heavy heart. She was determined to ensure a minimum amount of casualties. The siege, however, was taking much longer than expected. While she was in Blackmoor, Queen Angella made contact with the Unicorn King. Under cover of darkness two of his people flew to the aid of Angella and her people. Water was no longer a problem for them.
Secretly Onyx was glad, she knew she was the cause for much suffering, but she was convinced, in the long run, the people would respond. She was evil, vindictive, terrifying in her cruelty. She fanned the flame of rumor, feeding it lies, many she made up herself to inspire the hatred of others and provoke the masses out of their lethargy. Sadly however she could not build a reputation on rumors alone. She increasingly found herself giving orders that were as cold hearted as her comrades and she had lost the line that separated reality and the act she had assumed when joining the Horde. She no longer knew who she was she was just Onyx, now and she was very afraid that Adora might be lost forever.
Everyday she saw the response her defection and reign of terror caused in the bolstering resistance. Her soldiers had to fight harder, keep keener eyes on the road both ahead and behind them. More and more of the towns she rode up to were abandoned, their people choosing to leave in the night just days before her arrival than suffer their fate at her hands. Terror and despair were the weapons she wielded with brutal efficiency. The dead were tools she utilized to her advantage- be they horde soldiers or rebels. As the body count rose and her hands stained ever redder, her faith and sense of purpose diminished.
Running the siege she constantly had to keep watch for sabotage from within. With a force of eight thousand soldiers and twelve thousand robots patrolling the countryside and blockading Brightmoon Onyx did not merely rest and watch. She ruled with an iron fist and a black scowl.
She was doing her damn job. Why would Hordack suddenly command her to take the most elite troops at his disposal and protect a useless village on the edge of Brightmoon's territory? The pain in her head was increasing. A young man rode to her side. She ignored him.
"Commanding General, are you in distress?" He questioned, voicing a concern Onyx was unsure was genuine. She waved him off but he did not leave. They rode in silence for a few more moments before he hesitantly interrupted her pained concentration.
"Mistress, we've traveled nonstop for eighteen hours. Though we know you could continue, we need a rest." He hurriedly continued in one exhalation lest she become upset at his impertinence, " we won't be much use to you bleary-eyed with exhaustion, and an assassin could slip through ou watch just from one overtired guard member, Commander."
She nodded, indicating she heard him and kicked her horse into a faster gallop. She didn't want to ride alongside him.
If only she could rest. She refused to have any robots in her personal guard. She chose instead twelve soldiers fresh from training in the fright Zone to aid her. She trusted none of them. They were utterly loyal to her- not to Hordack, to her. They blindly obeyed her every order with quick, cold-hearted efficiency. They would gladly give their lives for her. She was their supreme commander, the ultimate war machine. Deaths Handmaiden.
But to her they were members of the horde. She didn't hate them, she didn't like them, she didn't really feel much of anything anymore. Since killing Leech she found the distinction between good and evil considerably blurred. The constant fighting was taking its toll as well. She had nightmares. Her sleep was never easy as testified by the dark rings which stood out under her eyes like black pits against her ivory skin.
Worst of all, she couldn't bear to touch the sword of Protection. Every time she held it in her hands the Sorceress's warning rang vividly in her ears do not kill using the sword of protection. She was afraid to turn into She-Ra.
When she held the sword in her hands she felt soiled. Dirty, like something greasy and ugly and repugnant was nesting inside her skin. She could feel the taint it carried, the malignant will, alien to the blade but there none-the-less. She carried the sword with her, wrapped in red velvet, preferring to use the green stunners to any other weapon, even the laser pistol she holstered to her thigh.
There had been seven attempts on her life since the fight with Glimmer. She handled each one easily but her guard was constantly up. That level of alertness was extracting a heavy toll on her energy reserves. Her head throbbed fiercely. What could be so important in Rendwoll that couldn't wait until after the siege of Brightmoon- particularly now, at such a crucial time?
Grizzlor had a massive army under him perched like ants outside the noble city. She grudgingly left him in charge in her absence. Any attack on his forces would be futile she knew; but she was uneasy. Things were very quiet. She hadn't seen or heard from Bow in two months and her only link to the rebellion were two spies she had placed in their ranks.
The rebels were massing in Mystacor and they were planning something big.
What, she didn't know. Being left up in the air put her on edge. What were they up to? As the pounding of the hooves and the jarring ride continued her headache became more pronounced. She decided she would take her guards advice; it was time to make camp.
"Lieutenant, stop." She commanded, her voice strained and gravelly. Immediately the black guard slowed to a halt. "Have Usha set up my tent, start a fire, set up a perimeter. We camp for the night."
"As you will Commander." Her lieutenant responded. Her orders were carried out quickly; gripping her saddle bags she slid off the Horde steed, moving to her tent. It was small, big enough for a cot and a small walk- space if one hunched, but it was protection from the elements and it was private. She fell on her cot, roughly tearing aside the face shield and helmet she wore, tossing them to the ground. She would have recoiled in horror if she could have seen her face. Her eyes were swollen and red, the skin beneath them puffy and black. Her skin was drawn tight against her skull. The stress of the past two months etched in every crease and shadow on her face; it told a story of fear and worry and despair. As always when she had a moment to rest, her thoughts turned inward.
What were her friends doing right now? Did they all hate her as much as Glimmer? She couldn't help but grin tiredly at the thought of her former friend. Adora's defection had made the spoiled princess of Brightmoon a woman. Her resistance cell was responsible for countless acts of sabotage on the Horde army outside of Brightmoon. No one knew how she was doing it, how she managed to sneak her troops into the camps very midst undetected. One of her people had been captured long enough to give the princess the credit but just as quickly he had disappeared. No one could explain that either.
Her troops defecated in the food barrels and poisoned the water supply causing massive amounts of sickness to rage unchecked through the ranks of the Horde. Fires would spontaneously burst into being in the command quarters, Onyx's personal shelter was moved twice daily in secrecy and no one but the Black Guard knew which tent was hers.
A massive explosion occurred twice in the past week, when somehow, Glimmer got to the armaments. The control wires to an entire battalion of batniks were fried to hell and no one saw anything. Glimmer was not only good at what she did she was cagey as well. Another thought followed that one, a thought of him. It seemed like forever since he last held her in his arms.
Why hadn't Bow at least tried to make contact? She felt angry and alone and a little betrayed- which was stupid since it was she who was the betrayer. She reached down under her cot, pulling out the velvet wrapped sword hidden there. Tenderly she unwrapped it, gazing lovingly at the beautiful polished steel, the jewel in the center which shimmered a gentle pink one moment and a calming blue the next arrested her eye, easing the tempest in her heart. Gazing at the sword that had been hers for seven years soothed her headache and eased her tension.
Until she touched it.
Her arm trembling, she ran a finger down the length of the chill metal, flinching at the turmoil it created in the hidden darkness behind her clenched eyes. Grasping the hilt in a straining palm she hugged the blade to her breast. Immediately tears filled her eyes, overflowing to spill unchecked down her cheeks. She wept in silence- they were out there. Listening. They couldn't know.
Her arm began to spasm as she fought the urge to thrust the blade away. It was a struggle to hold it so near and tight. She felt violated. It felt as if inside her head she was being tainted. A cold, wet, greasy oozing miasma was infiltrating her entire body, climbing and burrowing like worms into her heart, leeching her soul, knowing her every inner wish and thought and making her unclean.
With a gasp, as she choked back a broken sob, she thrust the sword from her, dropping it to the ground and gasping for breath. It had been the same since she used it to kill. How could something that was such a part of her entire being be so repulsive? That sword defined who she was. That sword was her one link to the past and her family and her freedom and she couldn't bear to touch it. Would she ever be She-Ra again?
Gently, with trembling hands, she wrapped the blade back in its velvet wrap and held it tight against her as she fell into a black and mindless slumber. Pale stains from salty tears and travel dust painted her face, her hair framing it in a golden halo, she appeared as a fallen angel. Adora, Commanding General Onyx was fast losing the one thing that had sustained her thus far. Her faith in the people and her hope in the future.
Glimmer watched grimly through a telescope from a craggy mountaintop as Onyx took her guard and stole away into the night. For weeks they had put off the inevitable fight for Brightmoon's borders. Both her and Ahgo were anxiously awaiting backup from Mystacor. With Adora leaving the battlefield Glimmer was itching to strike. She resolved, then and there, they would wait no longer.
"Gurr," she barked at her second in command, a large hulking brown mat of fur and muscle, "send for your king, tell him to meet me in the war room. At dawn we will attack. One way or another by this time tomorrow we will have embraced our destiny." The large, muscular troll bowed to her before ambling off with his heavy and awkward gait. Glimmer lifted the glass to her eyes again making sure Onyx did not double back. Her eyes were glued to the road long hours after the vision of terror clad in midnight disappeared.
_______________________________
The room was rectangular in shape, with huge vaulted ceilings. The architecture was cleverly hidden by stalactites placed at strategic intervals. Trolls had a way with stone, they could feel the heartbeat in the rock. Ahgo claimed it was because trolls and the rock were kin. Trolls were born from the stones of the deepest roots of the mountains of Spikeheart. They revered the land and cherished all of her creatures. The stone they were birthed from was also their sustenance, though in times of crisis or to interact with other species they could eat human food. In the great hall Glimmer lead the meeting which would prepare the people of Spikeheart and the contingent of fighters Glimmer commanded.
Two hundred trolls would follow her into battle as well as six hundred men from the disbanded rebel camp of the Whispering woods.
"For the past two months we have put off reclaiming the kingdom of Brightmoon." Glimmer began, her face a hard mask of resolve. "I've heard excuses such as 'Onyx is too strong', 'her guard too well trained', 'with her here, morale is too high.' Well Onyx is gone. She left this afternoon. At dawn we attack. No more will we sneak around using the underground tunnels to rise up in their camp only to poison their food and their drink. Yes, they've lost many men that way, but not enough. Tomorrow they lose them all."
"At dawn the trolls will approach Grizzlors army from the east." Glimmer was gesturing to a rough map she had made from some colored stones and mounds of dirt. "Make a LOT of noise. They will send the robots to the front leaving the live soldiers hiding behind them, toward the center of the camp. As the trolls march toward the army- slowly- but with great show and wrath, my army will use the tunnels to come out behind the enemy. We will lay waste to the living in that camp. They will not see us coming. By evening Brightmoon will be free!" A collective cheer rose from the ranks and Glimmer felt herself flush with a heady rush of power. To have such an army at her disposal made her feel strong.
"Remember we kill only if necessary. We are Not the Horde! Take prisoners if you can. For Brightmoon!" She cried. The cheer was echoed as Ahgo walked heavily to her side, taking her hand in his own.
"For Etheria!" He bellowed. The din grew louder. The new day would bring a change of that She was sure.
Onyx was furious.
She was also exhausted. The orders had come two days ago. She was to take her honor guard and ride for Rendwoll. After the taking of Blackmoor she returned to the front, watching the siege of Brightmoon with a heavy heart. She was determined to ensure a minimum amount of casualties. The siege, however, was taking much longer than expected. While she was in Blackmoor, Queen Angella made contact with the Unicorn King. Under cover of darkness two of his people flew to the aid of Angella and her people. Water was no longer a problem for them.
Secretly Onyx was glad, she knew she was the cause for much suffering, but she was convinced, in the long run, the people would respond. She was evil, vindictive, terrifying in her cruelty. She fanned the flame of rumor, feeding it lies, many she made up herself to inspire the hatred of others and provoke the masses out of their lethargy. Sadly however she could not build a reputation on rumors alone. She increasingly found herself giving orders that were as cold hearted as her comrades and she had lost the line that separated reality and the act she had assumed when joining the Horde. She no longer knew who she was she was just Onyx, now and she was very afraid that Adora might be lost forever.
Everyday she saw the response her defection and reign of terror caused in the bolstering resistance. Her soldiers had to fight harder, keep keener eyes on the road both ahead and behind them. More and more of the towns she rode up to were abandoned, their people choosing to leave in the night just days before her arrival than suffer their fate at her hands. Terror and despair were the weapons she wielded with brutal efficiency. The dead were tools she utilized to her advantage- be they horde soldiers or rebels. As the body count rose and her hands stained ever redder, her faith and sense of purpose diminished.
Running the siege she constantly had to keep watch for sabotage from within. With a force of eight thousand soldiers and twelve thousand robots patrolling the countryside and blockading Brightmoon Onyx did not merely rest and watch. She ruled with an iron fist and a black scowl.
She was doing her damn job. Why would Hordack suddenly command her to take the most elite troops at his disposal and protect a useless village on the edge of Brightmoon's territory? The pain in her head was increasing. A young man rode to her side. She ignored him.
"Commanding General, are you in distress?" He questioned, voicing a concern Onyx was unsure was genuine. She waved him off but he did not leave. They rode in silence for a few more moments before he hesitantly interrupted her pained concentration.
"Mistress, we've traveled nonstop for eighteen hours. Though we know you could continue, we need a rest." He hurriedly continued in one exhalation lest she become upset at his impertinence, " we won't be much use to you bleary-eyed with exhaustion, and an assassin could slip through ou watch just from one overtired guard member, Commander."
She nodded, indicating she heard him and kicked her horse into a faster gallop. She didn't want to ride alongside him.
If only she could rest. She refused to have any robots in her personal guard. She chose instead twelve soldiers fresh from training in the fright Zone to aid her. She trusted none of them. They were utterly loyal to her- not to Hordack, to her. They blindly obeyed her every order with quick, cold-hearted efficiency. They would gladly give their lives for her. She was their supreme commander, the ultimate war machine. Deaths Handmaiden.
But to her they were members of the horde. She didn't hate them, she didn't like them, she didn't really feel much of anything anymore. Since killing Leech she found the distinction between good and evil considerably blurred. The constant fighting was taking its toll as well. She had nightmares. Her sleep was never easy as testified by the dark rings which stood out under her eyes like black pits against her ivory skin.
Worst of all, she couldn't bear to touch the sword of Protection. Every time she held it in her hands the Sorceress's warning rang vividly in her ears do not kill using the sword of protection. She was afraid to turn into She-Ra.
When she held the sword in her hands she felt soiled. Dirty, like something greasy and ugly and repugnant was nesting inside her skin. She could feel the taint it carried, the malignant will, alien to the blade but there none-the-less. She carried the sword with her, wrapped in red velvet, preferring to use the green stunners to any other weapon, even the laser pistol she holstered to her thigh.
There had been seven attempts on her life since the fight with Glimmer. She handled each one easily but her guard was constantly up. That level of alertness was extracting a heavy toll on her energy reserves. Her head throbbed fiercely. What could be so important in Rendwoll that couldn't wait until after the siege of Brightmoon- particularly now, at such a crucial time?
Grizzlor had a massive army under him perched like ants outside the noble city. She grudgingly left him in charge in her absence. Any attack on his forces would be futile she knew; but she was uneasy. Things were very quiet. She hadn't seen or heard from Bow in two months and her only link to the rebellion were two spies she had placed in their ranks.
The rebels were massing in Mystacor and they were planning something big.
What, she didn't know. Being left up in the air put her on edge. What were they up to? As the pounding of the hooves and the jarring ride continued her headache became more pronounced. She decided she would take her guards advice; it was time to make camp.
"Lieutenant, stop." She commanded, her voice strained and gravelly. Immediately the black guard slowed to a halt. "Have Usha set up my tent, start a fire, set up a perimeter. We camp for the night."
"As you will Commander." Her lieutenant responded. Her orders were carried out quickly; gripping her saddle bags she slid off the Horde steed, moving to her tent. It was small, big enough for a cot and a small walk- space if one hunched, but it was protection from the elements and it was private. She fell on her cot, roughly tearing aside the face shield and helmet she wore, tossing them to the ground. She would have recoiled in horror if she could have seen her face. Her eyes were swollen and red, the skin beneath them puffy and black. Her skin was drawn tight against her skull. The stress of the past two months etched in every crease and shadow on her face; it told a story of fear and worry and despair. As always when she had a moment to rest, her thoughts turned inward.
What were her friends doing right now? Did they all hate her as much as Glimmer? She couldn't help but grin tiredly at the thought of her former friend. Adora's defection had made the spoiled princess of Brightmoon a woman. Her resistance cell was responsible for countless acts of sabotage on the Horde army outside of Brightmoon. No one knew how she was doing it, how she managed to sneak her troops into the camps very midst undetected. One of her people had been captured long enough to give the princess the credit but just as quickly he had disappeared. No one could explain that either.
Her troops defecated in the food barrels and poisoned the water supply causing massive amounts of sickness to rage unchecked through the ranks of the Horde. Fires would spontaneously burst into being in the command quarters, Onyx's personal shelter was moved twice daily in secrecy and no one but the Black Guard knew which tent was hers.
A massive explosion occurred twice in the past week, when somehow, Glimmer got to the armaments. The control wires to an entire battalion of batniks were fried to hell and no one saw anything. Glimmer was not only good at what she did she was cagey as well. Another thought followed that one, a thought of him. It seemed like forever since he last held her in his arms.
Why hadn't Bow at least tried to make contact? She felt angry and alone and a little betrayed- which was stupid since it was she who was the betrayer. She reached down under her cot, pulling out the velvet wrapped sword hidden there. Tenderly she unwrapped it, gazing lovingly at the beautiful polished steel, the jewel in the center which shimmered a gentle pink one moment and a calming blue the next arrested her eye, easing the tempest in her heart. Gazing at the sword that had been hers for seven years soothed her headache and eased her tension.
Until she touched it.
Her arm trembling, she ran a finger down the length of the chill metal, flinching at the turmoil it created in the hidden darkness behind her clenched eyes. Grasping the hilt in a straining palm she hugged the blade to her breast. Immediately tears filled her eyes, overflowing to spill unchecked down her cheeks. She wept in silence- they were out there. Listening. They couldn't know.
Her arm began to spasm as she fought the urge to thrust the blade away. It was a struggle to hold it so near and tight. She felt violated. It felt as if inside her head she was being tainted. A cold, wet, greasy oozing miasma was infiltrating her entire body, climbing and burrowing like worms into her heart, leeching her soul, knowing her every inner wish and thought and making her unclean.
With a gasp, as she choked back a broken sob, she thrust the sword from her, dropping it to the ground and gasping for breath. It had been the same since she used it to kill. How could something that was such a part of her entire being be so repulsive? That sword defined who she was. That sword was her one link to the past and her family and her freedom and she couldn't bear to touch it. Would she ever be She-Ra again?
Gently, with trembling hands, she wrapped the blade back in its velvet wrap and held it tight against her as she fell into a black and mindless slumber. Pale stains from salty tears and travel dust painted her face, her hair framing it in a golden halo, she appeared as a fallen angel. Adora, Commanding General Onyx was fast losing the one thing that had sustained her thus far. Her faith in the people and her hope in the future.
Glimmer watched grimly through a telescope from a craggy mountaintop as Onyx took her guard and stole away into the night. For weeks they had put off the inevitable fight for Brightmoon's borders. Both her and Ahgo were anxiously awaiting backup from Mystacor. With Adora leaving the battlefield Glimmer was itching to strike. She resolved, then and there, they would wait no longer.
"Gurr," she barked at her second in command, a large hulking brown mat of fur and muscle, "send for your king, tell him to meet me in the war room. At dawn we will attack. One way or another by this time tomorrow we will have embraced our destiny." The large, muscular troll bowed to her before ambling off with his heavy and awkward gait. Glimmer lifted the glass to her eyes again making sure Onyx did not double back. Her eyes were glued to the road long hours after the vision of terror clad in midnight disappeared.
_______________________________
The room was rectangular in shape, with huge vaulted ceilings. The architecture was cleverly hidden by stalactites placed at strategic intervals. Trolls had a way with stone, they could feel the heartbeat in the rock. Ahgo claimed it was because trolls and the rock were kin. Trolls were born from the stones of the deepest roots of the mountains of Spikeheart. They revered the land and cherished all of her creatures. The stone they were birthed from was also their sustenance, though in times of crisis or to interact with other species they could eat human food. In the great hall Glimmer lead the meeting which would prepare the people of Spikeheart and the contingent of fighters Glimmer commanded.
Two hundred trolls would follow her into battle as well as six hundred men from the disbanded rebel camp of the Whispering woods.
"For the past two months we have put off reclaiming the kingdom of Brightmoon." Glimmer began, her face a hard mask of resolve. "I've heard excuses such as 'Onyx is too strong', 'her guard too well trained', 'with her here, morale is too high.' Well Onyx is gone. She left this afternoon. At dawn we attack. No more will we sneak around using the underground tunnels to rise up in their camp only to poison their food and their drink. Yes, they've lost many men that way, but not enough. Tomorrow they lose them all."
"At dawn the trolls will approach Grizzlors army from the east." Glimmer was gesturing to a rough map she had made from some colored stones and mounds of dirt. "Make a LOT of noise. They will send the robots to the front leaving the live soldiers hiding behind them, toward the center of the camp. As the trolls march toward the army- slowly- but with great show and wrath, my army will use the tunnels to come out behind the enemy. We will lay waste to the living in that camp. They will not see us coming. By evening Brightmoon will be free!" A collective cheer rose from the ranks and Glimmer felt herself flush with a heady rush of power. To have such an army at her disposal made her feel strong.
"Remember we kill only if necessary. We are Not the Horde! Take prisoners if you can. For Brightmoon!" She cried. The cheer was echoed as Ahgo walked heavily to her side, taking her hand in his own.
"For Etheria!" He bellowed. The din grew louder. The new day would bring a change of that She was sure.