To Rule The Zones, 9/?. NC-17.
Title: To Rule The Zones (Edge of Dawn Sequel)
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: The Wizard of Oz belongs to Frank Baum and all of the modifications belong to SciFi.
Rating: NC-17 for language and lovingly rendered sex.
Pairing: DG/Cain, Azkadellia/OMCx2
Warnings: This takes place after the SciFi movie and after my story "The Edge of Dawn." This does refer to events occurring within that story, so you need to read that one first.
Summary: DG wanted to start a war with Lurlaine in the Mirror Zone. Little did she realize that it would lead to a war in the OZ as well...
Prior chapters can be found here.
The path wound its way through a broken down and abandoned village, the road crumbling in places. The forest was trying to retake the road in places, tree roots causing the brick to buckle and break apart, allowing the low shrubbery to settle into the exposed dirt. Azkadellia, Della and Callan looked at the cottages, roofs sagging, paint peeling and walls collapsing in places. The doors and windows were broken, and it looked almost like tiny parallel wheel tracks were impressed into the dirt around the houses.
"Seems to be the place," Callan commented. "Should I go first?"
"Why you?"
His lips stretched into a grimace of a smile. "They call me Ghost for a reason, Delia."
She thought of protesting, but he was already gliding toward the houses, gun in hand and hidden beneath the loose sleeve of his borrowed shirt. She turned to Della then, head tilted to the side. "And you, then? What about you?"
"They'll still try to outnumber us. Your choice either way. I can go to the shadows and try to blend in, or we walk in together."
"Together," she said instantly.
They followed the broken path, crumbling cobblestones and brick beneath their feet. They could feel Callan's presence nearby, as he scouted through the dilapidated houses ahead of them. If she hadn't spelled him months ago, she never would have known where he was. His lanky frame was hidden, and she couldn't hear his footfalls. "He's good," she murmured.
"You worry about us too much. These guys don't have magic, so we're on equal footing."
"Wheels, Paul," she reminded him, a smile on her face.
He merely grinned at her, though she could tell he was on alert. Something had moved in his peripheral vision, and he wasn't about to simply write it off as a wild animal. The forest had been entirely too quiet before they fell upon the village, so Della could only assume that meant at least a handful of these Wheelers were skulking about. They could be drawn to the fact that it was a couple alone on this broken road, but also because of Azkadellia's staff. It was hard to hide the emerald or disguise it as anything other than what it was.
"I'll let you handle it first," Azkadellia murmured. "I'll only use magic as a last resort."
Della smiled. "Good. I wouldn't want Callan to get all of the fun."
It was in the remains of the square that the Wheelers descended. They came from all sides, intending to trap Azkadellia and Della by the dry, crumbling fountain in the very center of the village. One quadrant was noticeably thinner than the others, and Azkadellia couldn't quite hide the thrill of pride she felt at the sight. Della was in front of her, partially blocking her from the Wheelers, intent on thinning their ranks even further. She fingered the defensive runes on the walking staff, activating them with a thought. The runes flared to life, though mortal eyes could never see the flash of magic or the glow imbuing the staff.
The Wheelers didn't notice her. She was still behind Della, not moving, but she simply wasn't their focus any longer. They saw Della, tall and strong and solidly built. They saw a target, prey, the fun they could have while they figured out their next move.
One of the braver ones came forward, rolling slowly. His clothes were ragged caricatures of brightly colored outfits, and his dark hair was twisted into spikes around his head. His face was painted white, red and yellow, the primary colors in his outfit. The wheels at his hands and feet were also tinged in red and yellow. He reminded Azkadellia of Glitch somehow, and thought that perhaps he was the leader of this band, which numbered close to forty. "Lost, mate? You come all this way to us, you should belong to us, then."
Della's stony expression never wavered, and his hand was over his gun. "It's not a wise move to come closer," he intoned, voice dark with purpose.
The Wheelers around them laughed, voice high pitched and tinged with madness. Maybe they had been angry and desperate once, but now most of them were simply mad. This one in front seemed to be the sanest out of the lot of them. "You're in Wheeler country now, little man," he told Della, his mouth full of sharp, broken teeth. His dark eyes flashed. "You're in with my people, and we take what we want."
Wheelers came in closer, some rushing forward with their arms up, spinning wheels level with Della's chest. Without even breaking his gaze with the apparent leader, he shot three of them dead in the center of their foreheads. The other four stopped, mouths contorting in anger at the sight of their fallen comrades. "I don't think so," Della said smoothly, face still stony. "How many more of your men are going to die?"
The leader's lips were drawn back in a snarl. "Get him!"
The Wheelers behind him surged forward, and Della shot the ones in front. When he ran out of bullets, he didn't waste time reloading. He used the gun as a blunt instrument as he reached for the one tucked into the small of his back. Azkadellia put up an invisible wall behind them, keeping the Wheelers coming in a single direction at once. She thought she could see something pale moving through the forest before there was the sound of further gunfire.
This wasn't all of the Wheelers terrorizing the countryside, Azkadellia knew, but there was no need to kill them all if she didn't have to. "Paul?" she called out.
He was throwing one Wheeler at two more, and didn't look back. "Yeah?" he grunted, swinging at another Wheeler's face.
"We need some of them alive."
"I'm keeping that in mind, sweetheart," he ground out, punching another one in the face. "See? Not killing all of them."
The Wheeler leader looked up and saw Azkadellia behind Della, saw the ebony staff and the winking emerald at the top of it. "You're not Mombi."
"No," she agreed. "I'm not."
He whistled, high pitched and with a cadence to it almost like it was a language of whistles. "So who are you, then? Not common folk, for certain." The other Wheelers fell back into line behind him, watching and waiting, eyes sharp and looking for an angle to attack if their leader called for it again.
"I am Princess Azkadellia of the Outer Zone," she said, looking him in the eye. The Practitioners within her merely smiled. No one knew who she was in the Mirror Zone, so his confusion was expected. No one was expecting her.
"That means nothing 'round these parts," the leader said, pushing off of his arms to stand on his legs. His lip curled into a sneer. "You ain't no princess."
"Well, this isn't the land of Ev. I suppose we're even," she replied tartly.
The leader growled and the others hissed behind him, pressing closer. The name Ev clearly agitated them. "So you're one with the Queen."
"Not Lurlaine," Azkadellia replied. "I work with the Unseelie Court."
"That's a filthy lie!" someone shouted in the back of the group. "They've been gone forever!"
"There used to be an Oz and Ev," Azkadellia began, not taking her eyes off of the group. "Over time in my world, Oz became the Outer Zone. Here, it became a lot of other different places, reflected back through mirrors."
"You can't take this new land," the leader snarled, raising his wheeled arm. "You tell your filthy whore of a Queen we won't give it up! She took everything else, but she won't take this!"
Azkadellia heaved a sigh of annoyance. "All right, Paul, I'm going to have to do something about this. We won't get anywhere until they listen."
He nodded. "Sounds like a magic thing."
"Definitely a magic thing," she agreed. With a wave of her hands, all of the Wheelers were frozen in place where they were. "There. I think now they'll listen."
Della nodded, taking a perverse kind of pleasure in the frightened look in the Wheelers' eyes. For creatures with no hands or feet, they hit pretty damn hard.
"I don't care about your lands. I do care about you terrorizing farmers, and I don't like it." Her gaze rested on all of them, her voice thick with disapproval. "It's someone weak and petty that preys on those weaker than they are to feel strong," she added, a touch of her own self-loathing coming through in her words. Aliana stirred to protest, but Azkadellia ignored it. "I'm going to let you speak, but you can't move anything else."
The leader's eyes blazed with hatred. "Your flipping Queen took our lands and killed our women and children. You can't take this from us now!"
"I've come here to unseat Queen Lurlaine," Azkadellia hissed. "My sister DG is the Queen of the Unseelie Court, and she wants to see Lurlaine gone for what she did to Ozma."
"They say Princess Ozma is in the Sanctuary. She's been there for the past ninety years for her hundred years' rest," the Wheeler leader spat. "Shows what a liar you are. She's the most precious creature in the Zone. That master of yours knows better than to hurt the Princess."
Azkadellia's smile was almost sinister. "So there are whispers about that, are there?"
The Wheeler leader bristled. "Lies, all of it. Ozma's eternal, she can't be hurt."
Azkadellia held out her staff. "This isn't something common to the Mirror Zone. This is from the Outer Zone, from the time of the Emerald City and used by its defenders. It was given to me by the last of the wyverns."
There was something in the leader's face that shifted. He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that something could possibly be done. "We've no part in that," he snarled. "Never part of the war, never chose a side and sixty years ago she takes our lands for sport. No, stranger, I won't listen to the lies of her servants."
She was almost losing her temper. While she had never thought this would be an easy task, she had never really had to deal with frustration for long. Even as the Sorceress, she had a hard time keeping her temper in check. Her months as the focus of whispers had helped her learn how to hold her tongue, but it didn't stop the wild burst of resentment flooding through her.
"What if you could get even?" Azkadellia asked, voice smooth. "What if you could take back what she'd stolen from you?"
He didn't trust her, had no real reason to other than her word. "You're a trick."
"I'm here to try and get an army together. I have the Shadow Brigade, and they're recruiting as well. We plan to storm the Sanctuary and get Lurlaine off of the throne for good. Are you with me?" she asked, an edge to her words.
The Wheeler leader pondered that. "Maybe. Maybe we've got others worth talking to."
"Then let's talk," Azkadellia replied, smiling. Della was uncomfortably reminded of the smiles he had seen on the Sorceress' face during public appearances. It was chilling to see on Azkadellia's face, even if he knew that the Sorceress was gone.
The leader's name was Mattoon, and he knew a few other enclaves of Wheelers scattered in the area. They had all survived a raid on their territory, when the shadows had descended and kept everyone trapped in place. It had been uncomfortably similar to Azkadellia's freezing spell, which had been what set off Mattoon's distrust anew. During the raid, Lurlaine herself had entered once all of her shadowy servants had pinned the people in place. Then all the women and young children were stripped of their souls or carted away to be brought to the Sanctuary. The survivors left behind guessed that it was to be consumed later. The male Wheelers had all been released once Lurlaine was safely back in her Sanctuary.
Azkadellia easily got their promise to leave the farmers and villagers alone. They heard of other pockets of unrest in the Mirror Zone, and as a body, they headed for the Low Realms, a collection of areas with no clear ruler that was deemed not even worth Lurlaine's time to tame and take taxes from. Untrodden Sands, Barbed Torrent, Mist Parish, Glorious Pale and the Studded Steeps were possibly the most notorious of the Low Realms, and they were headed straight to the Mist Parish.
The protection runes on the ebony staff were at full strength and extended to cover Azkadellia, Della and Callan as they moved through the Mist Parish. The locals were even more ragged than the Wheelers, figures almost skeletal as they hovered just above starvation. Azkadellia thought she saw someone get knifed in the gut as they passed an alley, but didn't stop to look more closely. She needed allies in this war DG wanted, and she would have to rely on her tin men and her magic to stay safe. She would see this war to the conclusion, and she would honor her promise to DG as best as she could.
Mattoon led them to the Iron Cauldron pub. The Wheelers scattered to the streets, finding pockets to stay hidden in. Mattoon couldn't handle the stairs well, but Callan helped him navigate them. Waiting inside the pub's basement room was a troll sitting cross-legged on the floor. He leveled his gaze at the group of them. His skin was a mottled green, and a large, jagged scar stretched across the right side of his face. His right eye was milky and sightless, but his left made up for it. There was a tall black woman at his side, tending to a deep wound in his left arm. She was dressed in thick furs that kept her shape hidden.
"Hani," Mattoon said, nodding at Azkadellia, Callan and Della. "They say they're Unseelie."
The troll's gaze sharpened. "Dangerous to say so."
"I've got the Shadow Brigade canvassing the Zone for more volunteers."
The woman didn't spare them a glance, even when the troll hissed at her prodding. "You're either very good or very foolish."
Azkadellia smiled. "Perhaps a little of both."
"That Court's been destroyed for far too long."
"Over three thousand years," Azkadellia said with a nod, her inner Practitioners hissing in agreement. "But it's been invoked once again by Crown Princess Dorothy Gale of the Outer Zone. I'm her sister Azkadellia."
"Dorothy Gale," Hani murmured, lips pulling back into a ghastly smile. His fangs and broken teeth were entirely too sharp, too blackened and too intimidating. "Well, if that isn't a name from the story books, I don't know what is. Azkadellia, was it?" he asked, though it was clear he remembered her name. "Related to Delia of the Silver Enclave?"
"Who was she?" Della asked, remembering that DG had called Azkadellia by the name once.
"An advisor to Queen Titania once upon a time," Hani replied. "But Lurlaine destroyed the Enclave when she took the throne. They didn't exactly approve of how command seemed to move from Elaine to Lurlaine."
"How did Delia die?" Callan asked, curious.
"Oh, that's just it," Hani laughed. The woman at his side poured some kind of caustic material into his wound, and it smoked. "Ach, ginger with that arm." The woman nodded and began to bind it. "The Lady Delia disappeared and was never found again. No body, no trace of her magic threads, nothing. The rest of the Enclave were smoking corpses in the Silver City."
"Then I'll be Lady Delia," Azkadellia replied, leaning on the ebony staff. She smiled sweetly at the assembled parties. "It should unsettle Lurlaine enough to give us an advantage."
Hani nodded at the woman at his side and tossed her a pouch of coins for her services. "Give my best to your son," he told her as she bowed slightly. "Perhaps Mattoon can keep watch over the boy in case they come back." The woman nodded and took Mattoon's arm. They left the room, the sound of Mattoon's wheels loud on the basement stairs. "Good woman and good healer," he muttered at Azkadellia and the tin men.
"She doesn't speak?" Callan asked.
"Hard to do that with a tongue cut out," Hani said sharply. "Husband killed by the Black Torrent Guild, raped by one of the raiding parties, tongue cut out and left for dead. It's the way of it out here, and the Sanctuary wants none of us. We care for our own in these parts."
"So why does Mattoon think you'll be able to help us?" Azkadellia asked, head cocked to the side in curiosity.
Hani's smile was just as gruesome the second time around. "I control Mist Parish by the strength of my fists. I've a treaty with the Ventra of the Untrodden Sands, Tari Clan of the Barbed Torrent, the Nightwalkers of the Glorious Pale and the golems of the Studded Steeps. Not that any of us in these wastes are particularly enamored of the bitch queen, but most of ours were thrown out of our own homelands. We did trade with the Wheelers for millennia. Had to stop when she destroyed them, but that's the way of things."
"My sister's plan is to put Ozma on the throne," Azkadellia told him. "I'm sure she'd give all of you proper lands."
"Good luck with that. I met her once, in my youth. The girl's mind is empty. Pretty but empty, like a doll. She's a figurehead and nothing more. That's why the bitch queen's lasted so long. No one else would dare destroy her for fear of harming Ozma, and she's not able to take control on her own." Hani turned and pushed at the wall beside him. "You'd best head out of the Cauldron and into the fires," he grunted. "In case anyone followed you here."
"Perhaps the Brigade members?" Della offered.
"Safety shouldn't be something to scoff at," Hani countered. "You don't know these lands. I do. Get into the damned tunnel and I'll bring you the Nightwalkers. They're the closest and most likely where some of the Brigade would have gone."
They kept their mouths shut and followed Hani. He led them through a maze of tunnels beneath the surface. It was dank and faintly musty, but overall in fairly good repair. There were no markings on the walls, but Hani knew where they were going. The emerald seemed to glow faintly, casting just enough light for the humans to see in the dark. Hani didn't remark on it, though his eyes seemed a little less threatening when he looked at them. They finally headed up toward the surface after what seemed like hours. He approved that none of the humans had complained about the walk, though they were clearly tired.
The Glorious Pale was a land of eternal twilight. There was no noonday sun, and a thin mist seemed to hover over the ground. They left a cavern and Hani led them to another inn named the Iron Cauldron. "Is that a theme?" Callan asked.
"Faeries can't stand cold iron," Hani replied darkly. "So names like this are common amongst those that have a reason to love iron."
Entering the pub, the humans could see what the Nightwalkers really were. Vampires.
They were vaguely human in shape, though becoming vampires had corrupted them. They were tall creatures with pale gray skin, hunched shoulders and hooked hands ending in claws. Their hair was uniformly white and thin, their eyes unnaturally reflective of the half light in the Glorious Pale. They wore somber, pale colors as a rule, and seemed capable of blending into the fine mist over the ground if they so chose.
Hani smiled his fearsome smile at the Nightwalker behind the bar. "Lissa still around these parts? Or has it passed on to Galan yet?"
The Nightwalker smiled, baring her mouthful of sharp teeth. "I remember you, Hani Somme Annan of the C'vali tribe. Lissa is in her receiving room." The Nightwalker flicked a glance at the three humans behind Hani. "And these?"
"Are guests of the realm," Hani replied coldly. "Lissa will enjoy their company as peers."
The smile instantly fell from the Nightwalker's face. "She has no peers."
Hani merely turned and headed toward the stairs at the back of the main room. "She does now."
The four mortals reached the receiving room without incident, and Hani strode inside with an imperious manner. "Lissa. I bring you peerage."
The Nightwalker sitting by the fireplace was dressed in black velvet robes that had a subtle brown design woven into it. Her hair was a very faint blonde instead of white, and she turned to face them, deep eye sockets reflecting the firelight. She rose, and her skin looked translucent, stretched tight against her misshapen skull. "Peerage," she said, her voice sounding like pieces of broken glass grating against each other. "Interesting. You always bring me interesting news, Hani. I heard Bala below. She enjoys giving you a hard time."
"She doesn't enjoy the fact that I bested her for control of the Mist Parish. Understandable."
Lissa moved closer, and it seemed as if she didn't walk, but glided as if she was mist. "There is much magic in this room. You brought me a Practitioner and her honor guard, Hani." She smiled, exposing her twin rows of sharpened teeth. "You do bring the best presents."
Hani indicated Azkadellia. "Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave."
Lissa hissed and moved back toward the fireplace instantly, lips pulled back in a grimace of horror. She said something in a language that was incomprehensible, but clearly conveyed her agitation. She made a warding gesture with her hand, but Azkadellia stayed where she was.
"Azkadellia of the Outer Zone, actually," Azkadellia murmured after a moment, taking in Hani's obvious enjoyment of Lissa's discomfiture. "This is Benji Callan and Paul Della."
Lissa came forward cautiously, then sniffed the air around them. "You are a Practitioner. I feel the concentrated magic in you." Azkadellia nodded. "Your guards... They stink of you and your magic. I do not smell lies."
"I'm not lying," Azkadellia replied. She was tempted to activate the defensive runes on the ebony staff, but kept still. Lissa was testing things out, trying to see if Azkadellia was safe. She could understand the impulse. "I'm not sure if there's really a way to prove that I'm with the Unseelie Court right now. The rest of the Shadow Brigade is out recruiting forces as well."
Lissa's eyes narrowed. "Unseelie Court? Well, now. That's... dangerous."
"I'm letting you know as a show of faith," Azkadellia said, turning her head to follow Lissa as she moved off to the side to look at Callan and Della. "I'm trusting you not to turn us in, hoping that you'll trust me enough to help me."
"Oh? And what's in it for me?" she asked, voice like a whip crack in the silence.
"Same as I've offered to Hani. Extended lands once Ozma is on the throne."
Lissa laughed, a high pitched cackle that grated on the humans' spines. "Oh, she is a mindless poppet, that one. She's a pretty doll with strings for Lurlaine to pull. Oh, no, she can't rule the Sanctuary or any of the outlying lands. If even Lurlaine has given up on the Low Realms, Ozma has no hope of ruling." Lissa turned to Hani, amused. "I assume you told these mortals as much." Hani nodded solemnly. "Well, then. Are you helping them?"
"I brought them to you, didn't I?"
"True enough. But you wanted to scare me and amuse me at turns. Are you actually pledging help in their cause?"
"If you are, perhaps."
Lissa laughed and returned to her chair. "Then we are at an impasse, are we not? Why should I help an uncertain cause? Why should you? Why should any of your other allies or any of mine? I have kept the Glorious Pale apart from Lurlaine's realms and safe for millennia. I had no part in her fanatical war, and I had errand boys from both sides killed to be sure that my people stayed neutral and safe." She looked at Azkadellia, teeth bared. "What do you offer me, then? Not your fantasy hopes or lofty names. I have no need of trifles."
Azkadellia knew she would have to talk to DG about it later, but she really had only one thing worth bargaining with. She lowered her staff so that the emerald shone and reflected the firelight back into Lissa's eyes. "We have a cache of emeralds and emerald-imbued weapons. I can make arrangements for some to slip into this realm."
Lissa's eyes sharpened. "Emerald magic?" She leapt to her feet and was in front of Azkadellia in an instant, her eyes boring into hers. Her mercurial moods were frightening, but Azkadellia stood firm. If she crumbled now, they would likely all be lost. "Perhaps you are indeed Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave. She hid all of the Emerald City's fabulous treasures from Lurlaine before she disappeared." Lissa touched Azkadellia's cheek, a ghost of a smile on her face. Azkadellia stayed very, very still, not even daring to breathe. "This staff of yours is one, isn't it? I can feel its magic, I can feel it bound to you. And you yourself... You are something else. Something strange, even for a Practitioner."
"Perhaps I'm enough to tip the scales to win the war."
Lissa laughed. "Oh, yes. You are Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave. You are, indeed. She had a tongue like that, the sheer willpower to make things happen." She flicked her eyes at Hani. "You do bring wonderful gifts when you are so inclined. I'd say this will solidify our treaty for another thousand years."
Hani bowed his head slightly. "I thought it might."
"Are you prepared to push your forces out of the Mist?"
"If you're prepared to leave the Glorious Pale."
Lissa bared her teeth in a ghastly caricature of a smile. "I will call on my allies and let you call on your others. I think between us we may control half of the Low Realms, do we not? Or we know the major players involved." She glided slowly back to her chair by the fireplace. "I do believe my people would be obliged to leave the Pale under cover of night, if we can arrange for daylight transport." She turned to look at Azkadellia. "We burn in the sun, Lady Delia, as if the very fires of hell were inside us. But few can escape us once twilight descends. Our kind would enjoy the thrill of the hunt."
"You can board them?" Hani asked, sounding bored. "I've a ways to travel, and they won't survive the journey to the Untrodden Sands or the Studded Steeps. The Wheelers also pledged to follow this one." Azkadellia managed to mask her surprise at that statement, though Callan and Della couldn't quite.
Lissa merely smiled and nodded. "They may stay in the suite beside mine, as guests of honor. You did call them guests of the realm and Peerage. It's only right."
It also allowed her to monitor them closely, just in case they were duplicitous.
Azkadellia inclined her head toward Lissa. "My lady, we thank you."
Her smile was sharp, her expression edged with something that Azkadellia could only call retribution. "It will be a glorious revolution. For that alone, I thank you."
***
***
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: The Wizard of Oz belongs to Frank Baum and all of the modifications belong to SciFi.
Rating: NC-17 for language and lovingly rendered sex.
Pairing: DG/Cain, Azkadellia/OMCx2
Warnings: This takes place after the SciFi movie and after my story "The Edge of Dawn." This does refer to events occurring within that story, so you need to read that one first.
Summary: DG wanted to start a war with Lurlaine in the Mirror Zone. Little did she realize that it would lead to a war in the OZ as well...
Prior chapters can be found here.
The path wound its way through a broken down and abandoned village, the road crumbling in places. The forest was trying to retake the road in places, tree roots causing the brick to buckle and break apart, allowing the low shrubbery to settle into the exposed dirt. Azkadellia, Della and Callan looked at the cottages, roofs sagging, paint peeling and walls collapsing in places. The doors and windows were broken, and it looked almost like tiny parallel wheel tracks were impressed into the dirt around the houses.
"Seems to be the place," Callan commented. "Should I go first?"
"Why you?"
His lips stretched into a grimace of a smile. "They call me Ghost for a reason, Delia."
She thought of protesting, but he was already gliding toward the houses, gun in hand and hidden beneath the loose sleeve of his borrowed shirt. She turned to Della then, head tilted to the side. "And you, then? What about you?"
"They'll still try to outnumber us. Your choice either way. I can go to the shadows and try to blend in, or we walk in together."
"Together," she said instantly.
They followed the broken path, crumbling cobblestones and brick beneath their feet. They could feel Callan's presence nearby, as he scouted through the dilapidated houses ahead of them. If she hadn't spelled him months ago, she never would have known where he was. His lanky frame was hidden, and she couldn't hear his footfalls. "He's good," she murmured.
"You worry about us too much. These guys don't have magic, so we're on equal footing."
"Wheels, Paul," she reminded him, a smile on her face.
He merely grinned at her, though she could tell he was on alert. Something had moved in his peripheral vision, and he wasn't about to simply write it off as a wild animal. The forest had been entirely too quiet before they fell upon the village, so Della could only assume that meant at least a handful of these Wheelers were skulking about. They could be drawn to the fact that it was a couple alone on this broken road, but also because of Azkadellia's staff. It was hard to hide the emerald or disguise it as anything other than what it was.
"I'll let you handle it first," Azkadellia murmured. "I'll only use magic as a last resort."
Della smiled. "Good. I wouldn't want Callan to get all of the fun."
It was in the remains of the square that the Wheelers descended. They came from all sides, intending to trap Azkadellia and Della by the dry, crumbling fountain in the very center of the village. One quadrant was noticeably thinner than the others, and Azkadellia couldn't quite hide the thrill of pride she felt at the sight. Della was in front of her, partially blocking her from the Wheelers, intent on thinning their ranks even further. She fingered the defensive runes on the walking staff, activating them with a thought. The runes flared to life, though mortal eyes could never see the flash of magic or the glow imbuing the staff.
The Wheelers didn't notice her. She was still behind Della, not moving, but she simply wasn't their focus any longer. They saw Della, tall and strong and solidly built. They saw a target, prey, the fun they could have while they figured out their next move.
One of the braver ones came forward, rolling slowly. His clothes were ragged caricatures of brightly colored outfits, and his dark hair was twisted into spikes around his head. His face was painted white, red and yellow, the primary colors in his outfit. The wheels at his hands and feet were also tinged in red and yellow. He reminded Azkadellia of Glitch somehow, and thought that perhaps he was the leader of this band, which numbered close to forty. "Lost, mate? You come all this way to us, you should belong to us, then."
Della's stony expression never wavered, and his hand was over his gun. "It's not a wise move to come closer," he intoned, voice dark with purpose.
The Wheelers around them laughed, voice high pitched and tinged with madness. Maybe they had been angry and desperate once, but now most of them were simply mad. This one in front seemed to be the sanest out of the lot of them. "You're in Wheeler country now, little man," he told Della, his mouth full of sharp, broken teeth. His dark eyes flashed. "You're in with my people, and we take what we want."
Wheelers came in closer, some rushing forward with their arms up, spinning wheels level with Della's chest. Without even breaking his gaze with the apparent leader, he shot three of them dead in the center of their foreheads. The other four stopped, mouths contorting in anger at the sight of their fallen comrades. "I don't think so," Della said smoothly, face still stony. "How many more of your men are going to die?"
The leader's lips were drawn back in a snarl. "Get him!"
The Wheelers behind him surged forward, and Della shot the ones in front. When he ran out of bullets, he didn't waste time reloading. He used the gun as a blunt instrument as he reached for the one tucked into the small of his back. Azkadellia put up an invisible wall behind them, keeping the Wheelers coming in a single direction at once. She thought she could see something pale moving through the forest before there was the sound of further gunfire.
This wasn't all of the Wheelers terrorizing the countryside, Azkadellia knew, but there was no need to kill them all if she didn't have to. "Paul?" she called out.
He was throwing one Wheeler at two more, and didn't look back. "Yeah?" he grunted, swinging at another Wheeler's face.
"We need some of them alive."
"I'm keeping that in mind, sweetheart," he ground out, punching another one in the face. "See? Not killing all of them."
The Wheeler leader looked up and saw Azkadellia behind Della, saw the ebony staff and the winking emerald at the top of it. "You're not Mombi."
"No," she agreed. "I'm not."
He whistled, high pitched and with a cadence to it almost like it was a language of whistles. "So who are you, then? Not common folk, for certain." The other Wheelers fell back into line behind him, watching and waiting, eyes sharp and looking for an angle to attack if their leader called for it again.
"I am Princess Azkadellia of the Outer Zone," she said, looking him in the eye. The Practitioners within her merely smiled. No one knew who she was in the Mirror Zone, so his confusion was expected. No one was expecting her.
"That means nothing 'round these parts," the leader said, pushing off of his arms to stand on his legs. His lip curled into a sneer. "You ain't no princess."
"Well, this isn't the land of Ev. I suppose we're even," she replied tartly.
The leader growled and the others hissed behind him, pressing closer. The name Ev clearly agitated them. "So you're one with the Queen."
"Not Lurlaine," Azkadellia replied. "I work with the Unseelie Court."
"That's a filthy lie!" someone shouted in the back of the group. "They've been gone forever!"
"There used to be an Oz and Ev," Azkadellia began, not taking her eyes off of the group. "Over time in my world, Oz became the Outer Zone. Here, it became a lot of other different places, reflected back through mirrors."
"You can't take this new land," the leader snarled, raising his wheeled arm. "You tell your filthy whore of a Queen we won't give it up! She took everything else, but she won't take this!"
Azkadellia heaved a sigh of annoyance. "All right, Paul, I'm going to have to do something about this. We won't get anywhere until they listen."
He nodded. "Sounds like a magic thing."
"Definitely a magic thing," she agreed. With a wave of her hands, all of the Wheelers were frozen in place where they were. "There. I think now they'll listen."
Della nodded, taking a perverse kind of pleasure in the frightened look in the Wheelers' eyes. For creatures with no hands or feet, they hit pretty damn hard.
"I don't care about your lands. I do care about you terrorizing farmers, and I don't like it." Her gaze rested on all of them, her voice thick with disapproval. "It's someone weak and petty that preys on those weaker than they are to feel strong," she added, a touch of her own self-loathing coming through in her words. Aliana stirred to protest, but Azkadellia ignored it. "I'm going to let you speak, but you can't move anything else."
The leader's eyes blazed with hatred. "Your flipping Queen took our lands and killed our women and children. You can't take this from us now!"
"I've come here to unseat Queen Lurlaine," Azkadellia hissed. "My sister DG is the Queen of the Unseelie Court, and she wants to see Lurlaine gone for what she did to Ozma."
"They say Princess Ozma is in the Sanctuary. She's been there for the past ninety years for her hundred years' rest," the Wheeler leader spat. "Shows what a liar you are. She's the most precious creature in the Zone. That master of yours knows better than to hurt the Princess."
Azkadellia's smile was almost sinister. "So there are whispers about that, are there?"
The Wheeler leader bristled. "Lies, all of it. Ozma's eternal, she can't be hurt."
Azkadellia held out her staff. "This isn't something common to the Mirror Zone. This is from the Outer Zone, from the time of the Emerald City and used by its defenders. It was given to me by the last of the wyverns."
There was something in the leader's face that shifted. He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that something could possibly be done. "We've no part in that," he snarled. "Never part of the war, never chose a side and sixty years ago she takes our lands for sport. No, stranger, I won't listen to the lies of her servants."
She was almost losing her temper. While she had never thought this would be an easy task, she had never really had to deal with frustration for long. Even as the Sorceress, she had a hard time keeping her temper in check. Her months as the focus of whispers had helped her learn how to hold her tongue, but it didn't stop the wild burst of resentment flooding through her.
"What if you could get even?" Azkadellia asked, voice smooth. "What if you could take back what she'd stolen from you?"
He didn't trust her, had no real reason to other than her word. "You're a trick."
"I'm here to try and get an army together. I have the Shadow Brigade, and they're recruiting as well. We plan to storm the Sanctuary and get Lurlaine off of the throne for good. Are you with me?" she asked, an edge to her words.
The Wheeler leader pondered that. "Maybe. Maybe we've got others worth talking to."
"Then let's talk," Azkadellia replied, smiling. Della was uncomfortably reminded of the smiles he had seen on the Sorceress' face during public appearances. It was chilling to see on Azkadellia's face, even if he knew that the Sorceress was gone.
The leader's name was Mattoon, and he knew a few other enclaves of Wheelers scattered in the area. They had all survived a raid on their territory, when the shadows had descended and kept everyone trapped in place. It had been uncomfortably similar to Azkadellia's freezing spell, which had been what set off Mattoon's distrust anew. During the raid, Lurlaine herself had entered once all of her shadowy servants had pinned the people in place. Then all the women and young children were stripped of their souls or carted away to be brought to the Sanctuary. The survivors left behind guessed that it was to be consumed later. The male Wheelers had all been released once Lurlaine was safely back in her Sanctuary.
Azkadellia easily got their promise to leave the farmers and villagers alone. They heard of other pockets of unrest in the Mirror Zone, and as a body, they headed for the Low Realms, a collection of areas with no clear ruler that was deemed not even worth Lurlaine's time to tame and take taxes from. Untrodden Sands, Barbed Torrent, Mist Parish, Glorious Pale and the Studded Steeps were possibly the most notorious of the Low Realms, and they were headed straight to the Mist Parish.
The protection runes on the ebony staff were at full strength and extended to cover Azkadellia, Della and Callan as they moved through the Mist Parish. The locals were even more ragged than the Wheelers, figures almost skeletal as they hovered just above starvation. Azkadellia thought she saw someone get knifed in the gut as they passed an alley, but didn't stop to look more closely. She needed allies in this war DG wanted, and she would have to rely on her tin men and her magic to stay safe. She would see this war to the conclusion, and she would honor her promise to DG as best as she could.
Mattoon led them to the Iron Cauldron pub. The Wheelers scattered to the streets, finding pockets to stay hidden in. Mattoon couldn't handle the stairs well, but Callan helped him navigate them. Waiting inside the pub's basement room was a troll sitting cross-legged on the floor. He leveled his gaze at the group of them. His skin was a mottled green, and a large, jagged scar stretched across the right side of his face. His right eye was milky and sightless, but his left made up for it. There was a tall black woman at his side, tending to a deep wound in his left arm. She was dressed in thick furs that kept her shape hidden.
"Hani," Mattoon said, nodding at Azkadellia, Callan and Della. "They say they're Unseelie."
The troll's gaze sharpened. "Dangerous to say so."
"I've got the Shadow Brigade canvassing the Zone for more volunteers."
The woman didn't spare them a glance, even when the troll hissed at her prodding. "You're either very good or very foolish."
Azkadellia smiled. "Perhaps a little of both."
"That Court's been destroyed for far too long."
"Over three thousand years," Azkadellia said with a nod, her inner Practitioners hissing in agreement. "But it's been invoked once again by Crown Princess Dorothy Gale of the Outer Zone. I'm her sister Azkadellia."
"Dorothy Gale," Hani murmured, lips pulling back into a ghastly smile. His fangs and broken teeth were entirely too sharp, too blackened and too intimidating. "Well, if that isn't a name from the story books, I don't know what is. Azkadellia, was it?" he asked, though it was clear he remembered her name. "Related to Delia of the Silver Enclave?"
"Who was she?" Della asked, remembering that DG had called Azkadellia by the name once.
"An advisor to Queen Titania once upon a time," Hani replied. "But Lurlaine destroyed the Enclave when she took the throne. They didn't exactly approve of how command seemed to move from Elaine to Lurlaine."
"How did Delia die?" Callan asked, curious.
"Oh, that's just it," Hani laughed. The woman at his side poured some kind of caustic material into his wound, and it smoked. "Ach, ginger with that arm." The woman nodded and began to bind it. "The Lady Delia disappeared and was never found again. No body, no trace of her magic threads, nothing. The rest of the Enclave were smoking corpses in the Silver City."
"Then I'll be Lady Delia," Azkadellia replied, leaning on the ebony staff. She smiled sweetly at the assembled parties. "It should unsettle Lurlaine enough to give us an advantage."
Hani nodded at the woman at his side and tossed her a pouch of coins for her services. "Give my best to your son," he told her as she bowed slightly. "Perhaps Mattoon can keep watch over the boy in case they come back." The woman nodded and took Mattoon's arm. They left the room, the sound of Mattoon's wheels loud on the basement stairs. "Good woman and good healer," he muttered at Azkadellia and the tin men.
"She doesn't speak?" Callan asked.
"Hard to do that with a tongue cut out," Hani said sharply. "Husband killed by the Black Torrent Guild, raped by one of the raiding parties, tongue cut out and left for dead. It's the way of it out here, and the Sanctuary wants none of us. We care for our own in these parts."
"So why does Mattoon think you'll be able to help us?" Azkadellia asked, head cocked to the side in curiosity.
Hani's smile was just as gruesome the second time around. "I control Mist Parish by the strength of my fists. I've a treaty with the Ventra of the Untrodden Sands, Tari Clan of the Barbed Torrent, the Nightwalkers of the Glorious Pale and the golems of the Studded Steeps. Not that any of us in these wastes are particularly enamored of the bitch queen, but most of ours were thrown out of our own homelands. We did trade with the Wheelers for millennia. Had to stop when she destroyed them, but that's the way of things."
"My sister's plan is to put Ozma on the throne," Azkadellia told him. "I'm sure she'd give all of you proper lands."
"Good luck with that. I met her once, in my youth. The girl's mind is empty. Pretty but empty, like a doll. She's a figurehead and nothing more. That's why the bitch queen's lasted so long. No one else would dare destroy her for fear of harming Ozma, and she's not able to take control on her own." Hani turned and pushed at the wall beside him. "You'd best head out of the Cauldron and into the fires," he grunted. "In case anyone followed you here."
"Perhaps the Brigade members?" Della offered.
"Safety shouldn't be something to scoff at," Hani countered. "You don't know these lands. I do. Get into the damned tunnel and I'll bring you the Nightwalkers. They're the closest and most likely where some of the Brigade would have gone."
They kept their mouths shut and followed Hani. He led them through a maze of tunnels beneath the surface. It was dank and faintly musty, but overall in fairly good repair. There were no markings on the walls, but Hani knew where they were going. The emerald seemed to glow faintly, casting just enough light for the humans to see in the dark. Hani didn't remark on it, though his eyes seemed a little less threatening when he looked at them. They finally headed up toward the surface after what seemed like hours. He approved that none of the humans had complained about the walk, though they were clearly tired.
The Glorious Pale was a land of eternal twilight. There was no noonday sun, and a thin mist seemed to hover over the ground. They left a cavern and Hani led them to another inn named the Iron Cauldron. "Is that a theme?" Callan asked.
"Faeries can't stand cold iron," Hani replied darkly. "So names like this are common amongst those that have a reason to love iron."
Entering the pub, the humans could see what the Nightwalkers really were. Vampires.
They were vaguely human in shape, though becoming vampires had corrupted them. They were tall creatures with pale gray skin, hunched shoulders and hooked hands ending in claws. Their hair was uniformly white and thin, their eyes unnaturally reflective of the half light in the Glorious Pale. They wore somber, pale colors as a rule, and seemed capable of blending into the fine mist over the ground if they so chose.
Hani smiled his fearsome smile at the Nightwalker behind the bar. "Lissa still around these parts? Or has it passed on to Galan yet?"
The Nightwalker smiled, baring her mouthful of sharp teeth. "I remember you, Hani Somme Annan of the C'vali tribe. Lissa is in her receiving room." The Nightwalker flicked a glance at the three humans behind Hani. "And these?"
"Are guests of the realm," Hani replied coldly. "Lissa will enjoy their company as peers."
The smile instantly fell from the Nightwalker's face. "She has no peers."
Hani merely turned and headed toward the stairs at the back of the main room. "She does now."
The four mortals reached the receiving room without incident, and Hani strode inside with an imperious manner. "Lissa. I bring you peerage."
The Nightwalker sitting by the fireplace was dressed in black velvet robes that had a subtle brown design woven into it. Her hair was a very faint blonde instead of white, and she turned to face them, deep eye sockets reflecting the firelight. She rose, and her skin looked translucent, stretched tight against her misshapen skull. "Peerage," she said, her voice sounding like pieces of broken glass grating against each other. "Interesting. You always bring me interesting news, Hani. I heard Bala below. She enjoys giving you a hard time."
"She doesn't enjoy the fact that I bested her for control of the Mist Parish. Understandable."
Lissa moved closer, and it seemed as if she didn't walk, but glided as if she was mist. "There is much magic in this room. You brought me a Practitioner and her honor guard, Hani." She smiled, exposing her twin rows of sharpened teeth. "You do bring the best presents."
Hani indicated Azkadellia. "Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave."
Lissa hissed and moved back toward the fireplace instantly, lips pulled back in a grimace of horror. She said something in a language that was incomprehensible, but clearly conveyed her agitation. She made a warding gesture with her hand, but Azkadellia stayed where she was.
"Azkadellia of the Outer Zone, actually," Azkadellia murmured after a moment, taking in Hani's obvious enjoyment of Lissa's discomfiture. "This is Benji Callan and Paul Della."
Lissa came forward cautiously, then sniffed the air around them. "You are a Practitioner. I feel the concentrated magic in you." Azkadellia nodded. "Your guards... They stink of you and your magic. I do not smell lies."
"I'm not lying," Azkadellia replied. She was tempted to activate the defensive runes on the ebony staff, but kept still. Lissa was testing things out, trying to see if Azkadellia was safe. She could understand the impulse. "I'm not sure if there's really a way to prove that I'm with the Unseelie Court right now. The rest of the Shadow Brigade is out recruiting forces as well."
Lissa's eyes narrowed. "Unseelie Court? Well, now. That's... dangerous."
"I'm letting you know as a show of faith," Azkadellia said, turning her head to follow Lissa as she moved off to the side to look at Callan and Della. "I'm trusting you not to turn us in, hoping that you'll trust me enough to help me."
"Oh? And what's in it for me?" she asked, voice like a whip crack in the silence.
"Same as I've offered to Hani. Extended lands once Ozma is on the throne."
Lissa laughed, a high pitched cackle that grated on the humans' spines. "Oh, she is a mindless poppet, that one. She's a pretty doll with strings for Lurlaine to pull. Oh, no, she can't rule the Sanctuary or any of the outlying lands. If even Lurlaine has given up on the Low Realms, Ozma has no hope of ruling." Lissa turned to Hani, amused. "I assume you told these mortals as much." Hani nodded solemnly. "Well, then. Are you helping them?"
"I brought them to you, didn't I?"
"True enough. But you wanted to scare me and amuse me at turns. Are you actually pledging help in their cause?"
"If you are, perhaps."
Lissa laughed and returned to her chair. "Then we are at an impasse, are we not? Why should I help an uncertain cause? Why should you? Why should any of your other allies or any of mine? I have kept the Glorious Pale apart from Lurlaine's realms and safe for millennia. I had no part in her fanatical war, and I had errand boys from both sides killed to be sure that my people stayed neutral and safe." She looked at Azkadellia, teeth bared. "What do you offer me, then? Not your fantasy hopes or lofty names. I have no need of trifles."
Azkadellia knew she would have to talk to DG about it later, but she really had only one thing worth bargaining with. She lowered her staff so that the emerald shone and reflected the firelight back into Lissa's eyes. "We have a cache of emeralds and emerald-imbued weapons. I can make arrangements for some to slip into this realm."
Lissa's eyes sharpened. "Emerald magic?" She leapt to her feet and was in front of Azkadellia in an instant, her eyes boring into hers. Her mercurial moods were frightening, but Azkadellia stood firm. If she crumbled now, they would likely all be lost. "Perhaps you are indeed Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave. She hid all of the Emerald City's fabulous treasures from Lurlaine before she disappeared." Lissa touched Azkadellia's cheek, a ghost of a smile on her face. Azkadellia stayed very, very still, not even daring to breathe. "This staff of yours is one, isn't it? I can feel its magic, I can feel it bound to you. And you yourself... You are something else. Something strange, even for a Practitioner."
"Perhaps I'm enough to tip the scales to win the war."
Lissa laughed. "Oh, yes. You are Lady Delia of the Silver Enclave. You are, indeed. She had a tongue like that, the sheer willpower to make things happen." She flicked her eyes at Hani. "You do bring wonderful gifts when you are so inclined. I'd say this will solidify our treaty for another thousand years."
Hani bowed his head slightly. "I thought it might."
"Are you prepared to push your forces out of the Mist?"
"If you're prepared to leave the Glorious Pale."
Lissa bared her teeth in a ghastly caricature of a smile. "I will call on my allies and let you call on your others. I think between us we may control half of the Low Realms, do we not? Or we know the major players involved." She glided slowly back to her chair by the fireplace. "I do believe my people would be obliged to leave the Pale under cover of night, if we can arrange for daylight transport." She turned to look at Azkadellia. "We burn in the sun, Lady Delia, as if the very fires of hell were inside us. But few can escape us once twilight descends. Our kind would enjoy the thrill of the hunt."
"You can board them?" Hani asked, sounding bored. "I've a ways to travel, and they won't survive the journey to the Untrodden Sands or the Studded Steeps. The Wheelers also pledged to follow this one." Azkadellia managed to mask her surprise at that statement, though Callan and Della couldn't quite.
Lissa merely smiled and nodded. "They may stay in the suite beside mine, as guests of honor. You did call them guests of the realm and Peerage. It's only right."
It also allowed her to monitor them closely, just in case they were duplicitous.
Azkadellia inclined her head toward Lissa. "My lady, we thank you."
Her smile was sharp, her expression edged with something that Azkadellia could only call retribution. "It will be a glorious revolution. For that alone, I thank you."
***
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