Off To Kill the Wizard (Return to Oz With a Vengeance Book 1)

by Warren Thomas

  "It is always the same problem, your Majesty," Glinda said, weary of the endless planning. "The Royal Army has the manpower to overwhelm Lion's host, but to assemble such an army will require stripping all of our garrisons down to skeleton detachments. So you risk small local rebellions, if not civil war."

  Scarecrow gave her a hostile look. "Yes, I know."

  "So it's simple," she said. "Decide if you are willing to take that risk just to crush Lion and bring his lands under your thumb. If not, then forget about him. Lion's tiny kingdom is no threat to the Ozian Empire." She gave the generals a cool look. "The real threat is from the Four Witches. If you show the tiniest sign of weakness, they will all pounce."

  Technically, the Cardinal Witches of North, South, East, and West were sworn subjects of King Scarecrow. Glinda headed the Witches' Council that all witches in the lands had to obey. Only Glinda, Wanda, Diana, Jezebelle, and Olivia were on the Council that met four times a year in the Royal Palace. One of the Witches was always on duty with the Royal Army in the field during war. None of them enjoyed that duty, especially the two Good Witches.

  The Witches also ruled over their countries as Scarecrow's viceroys. They held Court, backed up the local garrisons with their magic, and generally kept the peace any way they saw fit. And it was an uneasy peace at best, since neither side could completely conquer the other. It was only the alliance between the Wizard and Glinda that gave him the upper-hand, and allowed Scarecrow to rule all of the lands of Oz.

  Scarecrow couldn't subjugate the other Witches like he did Glinda, because another Witch would rise up and usurp her just like Diana overthrew Glinda. The Land and Magic demanded Balance. Still, Scarecrow plotted to subjugate Wanda and Olivia, the two most powerful, in the hopes Witches of lesser power would rise in their places.

  Glinda did not think it would end well.

  She glanced up at all of the bubbles floating near the ceiling. They carried the responses to her bulletins. None of them pulsed with urgency, so were negative replies. Glinda considered them more of an annoyance than anything, especially since she'd rather be up in her conjuring chamber looking for Dorothy.

  "The Witches are all cowed, sorceress," General Tok said in a superior tone. He was a big sourpuss of a man, more lean than muscular. He rose to the top with his keen mind, not from any brawn in battle. The noble Winkie always rubbed her the wrong way. "The Royal Army is now the great power in the land."

  "Don't underestimate the Witches," she replied. "Or it will be your undoing, sir."

  He just harrumphed.

  That condescending, dismissive reply hit the once Good Witch like a rock to the head. Her jaw dropped, before snapping shut under blazing blue eyes. She was still naked, and knew that diminished her "presence," so Glinda lifted her wand and gave it a twirl. A bright white halo appeared above her head, and slowly descended to bathe her in blinding whiteness. When the light and halo faded away, the Witch was dressed in a splendid white gown, accessorized with pastel purple, blue, and pink. The faceted gemstones all over her body seemed to sparkle with extra intensity.

  The generals all looked suitably impressed by her melodramatic display.

  Scarecrow watched them with undisguised wicked glee. She didn't understand why he loved turmoil and infighting so much. It had to be the vile magic that corrupted his heart and mind. His magic power was also his curse. If she could just figure out the source of his magic…

  Glinda locked eyes with General Tok. She held his gaze as she slowly descended from the dais. He was a good head and a half taller, but he seemed like such a tiny man to her. There was a certain visceral pleasure at seeing him swallow hard.

  "I can kill your soul," Glinda said quite softly. "And feed it to demons."

  He stepped back, face pale. She smiled cruelly.

  "I can kill your entire army with a wave of the hand," she continued. "The only reason another Witch hasn't destroyed you with magic is due to Our protection. Without the Wizard and me to back your pathetic little men up the Witches would have obliterated you all seventy years ago."

  "I beg your pardon, Great One," General Tok said. "I misspoke. No insult was intended."

  "I doubt that," she said. "But you are still useful, so I'll allow you to live a little longer. Pray you don't fail King Scarecrow again, General. Pray hard."

  Five more little bluish-gray bubbles came into the throne room through the walls. One of them was pulsing rapidly. Her breath caught.

  Lifting her hand, she called, "To me."

  That message bubble flew to her extended, open palm in a flash. Glinda gave it a little poke, bursting the bubble with a long fingernail and releasing the message.

  "Great One, greetings. I am Captain Quence of Fort Jol, in Oogaboo. A young woman matching that description entered the village this evening. We didn't get her name, but she is staying the night in the local inn. What are your orders?"

  Glinda looked at Scarecrow. He grinned.

  "Go get her," King Scarecrow commanded. He ran his tongue over inch-long fangs. "Bring Dorothy to me. I will bind her to my will, and then use her to further my power."

  Not if I get those shoes off her feet, Glinda thought. But aloud, "Yes, master. I will leave now."

  Glinda spun around and strode across the vast throne room. Her heels clacked loudly on the dark green marble as courtiers scrambled to get out of her way. She muttered spells as she walked, calling up a more suitable flying carpet. It flew up to the soaring double doors just as she arrived.

  The flying carpet settled on the floor, and she stepped to the middle of it. The carpet was one of the larger, long distance flying carpets. It was mostly white, with lots of lovely pastel pinks and purples. It was her favorite carpet, so she knelt in the middle of it and looked around with pleasure.

  "Take me to Fort Jol in Oogaboo," she commanded. Her baby blues narrowed. "I can't wait to get reacquainted with Dorothy Gale of Kansas."

  Chapter 9

  Dorothy's eyes popped open. She listened intently. Was there some kind of threat? She had a terrible feeling of impending doom. And then she realized what woke her up.

  Did my shoes vibrate?

  Which brought up the fact she fell asleep before she removed her shoes, and her feet were not happy. They needed some relief. But first, her bladder needed attention even more.

  She'd curled up on her side after sex, with Sergeant Fredder spooning her. The air outside their covers was cold, so she hesitated leaving that wonderful place. Dorothy seriously considered going back to sleep and worrying about her aching bladder later.

  Her shoes vibrated again.

  What the hell?

  The young brunette lifted her head and looked around the room. No threat to be seen or heard. The inn gave an occasional creak or groan, as older wooden buildings were wont to do. With crazy shoes hurting her feet and a demanding bladder, Dorothy eased out from her perfect little place.

  I forgot how cold it can get in the mountains at night, she thought.

  Dorothy looked under the bed. Nothing there. So she looked all around and found the chamber pot under the open window. Fredder must've moved it over when he got up to use it earlier. Thank goodness, too, since the smell coming out of it was horrendous. She held her breath as much as possible as she squatted over it.

  As soon as she finished, Dorothy picked up the pot and leaned out the window, slowly pouring its contents out on the already muddy ground below. Movement caught her eyes. The garrison gate swung open and a stream of dark shapes flooded out. They were moving up the street with some urgency.

  She paused in the window, head cocked, and watched for a minute. They were halfway to the inn when she noticed most of them had drawn their swords and they weren't headed for the palisades, but toward the inn. Her breath caught.

  "Are they coming for...," she muttered, cut off when her shoes vibrated again. "…Me?"

  Her first instinct was to wake Fredder. Then she remembered he was one of them. So with heart pounding in he
r ears, she found her clothes scattered on the floor and dressed. A boom at the front door reverberated through the inn just as she tied the shirt closed.

  "What the hell was that?" Fredder asked, sitting up and looking around. He spotted Dorothy fully dressed. "Are you leaving? This is your room, and the village gate won't let anyone out until morning."

  Dorothy froze in the middle of buckling her pistol belt. What could she tell him? Should she say anything? Then countless heavy footsteps on the stairs reached her. Really, it sounded more like rolling thunder come up for her.

  "I have to go!"

  She quickly strapped the katana diagonally across her back, with the two Uzi shoulder straps crisscrossed over her shoulders. And that's when someone kicked the door open.

  "Halt in the name of the King!"

  "Bye-bye, Fredder!" Dorothy cried. "It's been fun."

  Her fingers found the Uzi triggers, and she pulled both three times for quick five-round bursts. Ratta-tat-tat-tat! Ratta-tat-tat-tat! Men screamed and shouted, but mostly they ducked and scattered. More came. A lot more. Ratta-tat-tat-tat! Ratta-tat-tat-tat! There was no way she'd get out that door, so she looked out the window. The street was empty.

  Dorothy quickly tossed her pack out the window, before she straddled the window sill and double-checked her landing spot. She turned back to the room to fire off suppressive fire, aiming above their heads this time. Ratta-tat-tat-tat! Ratta-tat-tat-tat! And then she jumped. Rolling upon impact, she was quickly back on her feet, snatching up her pack, and running for dear life.

  Soldiers flooded out of the inn after her. She released the Uzis to flop and bang against her as she ran. It proved remarkably difficult to run while carrying an unwieldy pack, which seemed unreasonably heavy at the moment. She pulled a pistol as she ran, because they didn't waste as much ammo.

  She ducked behind another large structure, used the wall to steady her aim, and took five shots into the center of the dark mass of soldiers chasing her. Five men fell with cries of surprise and agony. The others scattered, but continued toward her. Holstering the pistol and shouldering the knapsack, she looked around and spotted a ladder up to the catwalk atop the wooden palisades.

  Heading for the ladder, Dorothy ran for all she was worth. Soldiers swarmed through the village. There was a cluster of round, dome-shaped huts between her and the village defensive walls. The soldiers' families lived in most of them, along with the other people who tended to follow armies. Faster soldiers quickly got between her and the ladder.

  Dorothy veered to the left, racing between the huts. A soldier charged her to the right, and without thinking she pulled the katana and engaged. He was big and strong, but had never fought anyone trained in Kendo. Despite her having not practiced in decades, her body remembered enough. She parried his straight sword, ducked and spun to the right, and brought her blade down to split his head in two.

  "Oh my god, what have I done?"

  Shooting men at a distance had bothered her, but nothing like killing a man with her hands. It was up close and very personal, and even in the dark she could see copious amounts of blood. Her stomach surged and rolled, and then dinner came up. She puked three times, but then heard more soldiers running toward her.

  "I'm so sorry!" she cried, and took off running, sword in hand. Shouting, "Leave me alone! I don't want to hurt anyone!"

  Suddenly, a big dark shape was before her. She spotted his long blade, thrusting straight at her heart. Dorothy parried it aside, spun and slammed a foot into his belly. As he bent over in pain, she brought her knee up into his face. That stunned him, so she finished him off by bringing her sword's pommel down on his head.

  Dorothy reached the ladder, but noticed two soldiers up on the catwalk, one to either side. They were running toward her. She sheathed her sword and scrambled up. Pulling a pistol and aiming for the shoulder, she shot one soldier, and then the other.

  "Sorry!"

  Vaulting over the wall, she screamed as she realized too late that the palisades were pretty high. They might only be ten feet tall, but she fell into the dry moat. She hit the ground and rolled to the bottom. Dorothy lay there a moment, body aching. There was a lot of angry shouting on the other side of the wall. Soon dark heads began to appear above her. They crowded atop the palisades to look for her, and quickly spotted her.

  "Get bows and spears!" someone command. "Quickly, before she escapes!"

  "That's my cue," she muttered. "I should've thought all of this out better."

  Dorothy rolled to her feet, struggled up out of the moat, and then headed for the woods. She felt much better about her chances once the dark shadows of the forest enveloped her. Still, she didn't slow or falter. The young woman moved as quickly as she could. Before she knew it, Dorothy reached the road following the river.

  She turned and ran downstream.

  Just as she slowed from exhaustion, Dorothy heard a familiar sound. A frightening sound. Horses.

  "Dammit all," she said, stopping to huff and puff, hands on knees. "I'm not made for this desperate lifestyle."

  Hurrying back into the woods, she stopped and dropped to a knee just inside the treeline. The night shadows would hide her and give her a chance to study her pursuit as they passed by. And they didn't make her wait long.

  "That's odd," she whispered.

  There were five horsemen, and one man running before them on foot. It only took her a second to realize he was a tracker. So she lifted an Uzi, took careful aim, and tracked him in her sights as he came down the road. Her finger tightened on the trigger when he stopped at the same spot that she stopped to rest.

  The tracker pointed at the ground, then pointed all around, and finally followed her footsteps up into the trees. She grimaced, but couldn't pull the trigger.

  "I will kill you all with thunder and lightning!" Dorothy shouted, leapt out of the woods, and opened fire. She aimed above their heads, and thankfully that proved enough. The horses reared up, screaming in fear. All five riders were tossed, and their mounts turned to run back to the garrison. Dorothy leapt forward and grabbed the reins of a big gray.

  Dorothy easily mounted the horse, who was still gripped in panic. She expertly calmed him, while keeping an eye on the soldiers. Once her new mount was still, she leaned over and pointed an Uzi at the wide-eyed soldiers.

  "Tell your commander that I am a powerful witch," she snarled as menacingly as possible. "And I will eat the souls of any soldiers I catch pursuing me. GO!"

  She fired two rounds, and they took off running.

  Her horse began bucking again, so she took control. Reining him around, she kicked him into a full run. Dorothy ran that horse to exhaustion, and then dismounted and walked him until he was rested. All the while, she kept a close eye behind them. Ozians as a whole were afraid of witches, but soldiers were anything but common. They might still pursue her.

  Chapter 10

  Utter chaos reigned in the garrison below. Glinda rested atop her flying carpet. It was a grueling three hour flight up from Emerald City. Flying carpets weren't created to go faster than fifty miles per hour, but Glinda and the greater Witches could push the speed up pretty high. It took all she had, but the Witch made the fifteen hundred mile flight in record time. Unfortunately, it left her spent, trembling, and panting.

  Glinda watched the activity below while recovering. She didn't like anyone to see her as anything but the great and powerful Witch. Nothing could obviously strain, stress, or rattle her. Perception was everything, so she had to keep up appearances even when inconvenient.

  "Dorothy, you little minx," she whispered. "You've always had a talent for stirring things up."

  Her body quickly cooled in the crisp mountain air. Channeling magic was a dangerous thing, and it could burn an unwary witch up. Glinda had seen the burnt out husks of witches who lost control of their magic. Towards the end of that flight, she'd worried that she'd pushed it too hard and wouldn't be able to clamp off the surging power when she arrived.

&nbs
p; "Time to claim my prize," she said, and willed the flying carpet down into the garrison.

  Men cried out and pointed as she descended. She adjusted her flight to land in the middle of the parade field, which was in the middle of the garrison. The headquarters building was the closest structure, and she noticed several men come out and stand at attention.

  The flying carpet stopped a few inches above the ground. Glinda looked around at all of the men standing at attention. Several had bloody bandages on arms or legs. Then one of them saluted her, telling the Witch he was the commander. She locked eyes with him, held them, and then gave a barely perceptible nod.

  "Captain Quence?"

  "Yes, Great One," he said. "We are honored by your visit."

  "Of course you are," she said, rising to her feet with sensual grace.

  Glinda stepped off the flying carpet and walked past him. She went straight into the headquarters. All Royal Army garrisons and structures were laid out the same. There was a small orderly room just inside the door, and a much larger staff room to the left. The garrison's commanding officers had offices to the right. Glinda turned and entered the staff briefing chamber.

  She paused just inside the door. A large table dominated in the middle, with a map of Oogaboo atop it. Numerous chairs lined all four walls. The Witch located the largest chair, pointed her wand at it, and gave it a twirl. The chair began to glow, so she made a jabbing motion to capture it, and then swept her hand toward the far wall. All of the chairs against that wall slid across the floor to crash into the side walls, while her chair moved to the center of the far wall.

  A suitable throne, she thought as she walked gracefully towards it. Considering the circumstances.

  The Witch stopped and stood before her chair while the garrison officers filed in behind her. Captain Quence stood front and center, awaiting her pleasure. All were fully armed and armored, but there was none of the confident arrogance she usually saw in military men. A few were filthy, and looked like they'd been in a losing fight.