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

by Warren Thomas

  She didn't like Wanda. Not at all. The Wicked Witch of the West was quite young at ninety-three. Her magic power was still growing, and she was already able to challenge Glinda. She worried that Wanda could be more powerful than Scarecrow in thirty or forty years. And the raven-maned, green-eyed beauty made no secret of her desire to put Glinda under her thumb.

  The Witch felt a little something-something stir deep within, and her sex tingled. Wanda always looked at her with mischievous, lusty eyes. The Wicked Witch preferred women to men, though she wasn't above an occasional tumble with a hearty young man. She'd even had the audacity to try to seduce Glinda while she was still the Good Witch of the South.

  During the last war, Glinda did battle with Wanda and defeated her easily. But at the time, Wanda was only the fourth most powerful Witch. Now she was second. Scarecrow's spies at Kiamo Ko said she practiced battle magic almost daily.

  "We really need to keep a closer eye on her," Glinda muttered as she passed into the valley and looked down upon the great city.

  Where Emerald City was bright green, Kiamo Ko was every shade of yellow and gold. It sparkled like a golden diamond in the bright sun. Wanda's palace was in the center, sitting upon a wedged-shaped hill, right on the edge of the high cliff. It was second only to the King's palace in Emerald City in size and majesty.

  A bubble appeared in her hand. "Announce me."

  The bubble streaked away like lightning. Witches didn't appreciate surprises, especially when it involved another Witch. While Wanda might not want Glinda in her palace, and suspect she was there to spy for Scarecrow, she had no choice but to welcome her and provide hospitality.

  Or risk war with Scarecrow and Glinda.

  Kiamo Ko covered more acreage than Emerald City, though the population was only about two-thirds the capital. Emerald City also had more soaring towers, palaces, and government buildings. It was just grander by far. Still, Wanda's seat of power was impressive considering what she started with.

  Wanda might be Wicked, with a penchant for wearing black and purple, but she liked pretty things. That including buildings in her city. Glinda swooped down lower over the city, admiring the parks surrounding small lakes. There were lots of flowering trees, most with yellow flowers.

  "Funny," Glinda said, grinning. Wanda was born a Gillikin, so all that yellow had to grate on her. Indeed, she'd never seen Wanda wear anything at all yellow. Black and purple were her colors. "I should've brought her some yellow roses."

  A yellow-hued bubble flew up and burst, emitting Wanda's sexy growl. "Welcome, O Great One. Attend me."

  Glinda ground her teeth. While in Kiamo Ko, and Wanda's guest, Glinda would be subject to her rules and whim. She didn't like to defer to inferiors, but appearances had to be maintained.

  She changed course now that she had permission to enter the Amber Palace. She'd visited before, so knew exactly where to go. Glinda guided her flying carpet around to the cliff side of the palace, and headed for the topmost balcony. It was the single largest balcony, and was just outside of the throne room.

  The carpet came to a gentle landing in the middle of that balcony. Eleven heavily armed soldiers snapped to attention. They wore the forest gold surcoat over polished steel armor of Wanda's palace guard. A captain saluted her.

  "Be welcome, Great One," he said. "Our mistress awaits you on the Amber Throne. Please pay proper respect to her magnificence."

  The Witch paused, looking at the dark doorway. Only a single door was open. She didn't see anyone else, so at least Wanda wasn’t holding court. The Wicked Witch would be inspired to be quite wicked if there were courtiers around.

  "Lead the way, Captain," she said.

  The soldiers were lined up in V-shape to funnel her through the door. Their commander saluted again, spun on a heel, and marched out sharply. Glinda followed more leisurely, shaking her head at military customs and courtesies. Why did they have to salute so much?

  The stone floor was a pale yellow, while the long narrow carpet was brightest yellow between the balcony and the Amber Throne. Wanda really stood out in her mostly black leather outfit, legs crossed and fingers tapping on her folded arms.

  Glinda stopped a few feet shy of the dais, which was three steps above the rest of the room. Only the King of Oz could have a dais more than three steps high. Though, Glinda noticed Wanda had placed a dais, upon a dais. The dais was quite spacious, but with her throne atop another much smaller dais. So the Wicked Witch of the West was six steps above Glinda. She frowned as Wanda wagged her brows.

  "Lucky you," Wanda said. "You get to tell your lord and master that I'm being naughty, but I assure you there is no law forbidding what I've done."

  "But there soon will be," Glinda said. "You're looking especially good, Wanda. Have you lost weight?"

  "Gained seven pounds," she said. "All in my boobs. Yeah, I'm pleased."

  Wanda stood and moved closer. Glinda admired her shape. It seemed the raven-maned beauty was bustier, shapelier, and prettier every time she met her. Her hips were to die for, and that black leather outfit accentuated every curve of her spectacular body.

  The Wicked Witch wore the tall, pointed hat of a Cardinal Witch. It was a hat Glinda was denied after being subjugated by Scarecrow. Wanda chose a black hat with a very wide brim. The trunk of her body was sheathed in a single piece of shiny leather that barely covered her breasts, and left her well-rounded hips and legs exposed. Really, it was a leather teddy with a nether closure. Dark purple gloves sheathed her hands and arms up past her elbows, and sassy black thigh boots covered her legs up past mid-thigh. A black silk cloak with a purple lining finished out her outfit.

  "It looks good on you," Glinda said. "You should gain a lot more weight."

  "I'm almost finished, my dear," Wanda said. She looked Glinda over with relish. "I'm not quite as pretty as you, but I'm working on it." The Wicked Witch held Glinda's eyes for an intense moment. "Soon. I'll be prettier, and more powerful." Her bright green eyes narrowed. "Why are you here? I can only hope it is to submit to me, as we both know you eventually will have to do. But you're much too proud for that."

  Wanda turned in a stiletto heel, and strutted back toward her throne.

  "I'm on an official visit and King Scarecrow's emissary," Glinda lied. "A royal inspection, if you will."

  The Wicked Witch slanted a hostile look back at her, before she reached her throne and sat. She sensually crossed her legs and arranged her cloak. Finally, she looked coolly at Glinda.

  "So be it, but at my pleasure," she said. "Captain Nazar. Escort our guest to the Rose Suite. I'll see you at dinner, Glinda. Dress…inappropriately."

  Chapter 14

  Dorothy reined in her mount. Her eyes immediately scanned the early morning sky. No broom or carpet flying witches to be seen. She let her eyes drop to the tall, gleaming city to her immediate left and north.

  "Wow. Kiamo Ko is as big and spectacular as Emerald City was in its heyday," she whispered. The central palace complex didn't look as tall as that in Emerald City, but in Kiamo Ko it was perched atop a very tall and steep hill, making it look much taller. Her baby blues narrowed on the palace. "Stay home, Wanda. Nothing to see out here."

  She felt warmth coming from her magical shoes. Dorothy wasn't a hundred percent sure, but she thought the shoes' magic might help her go unnoticed if she asked correctly. Success had been hit and miss. She was still working on the exact wording to gain the maximum benefit.

  The first time she said anything like that was the morning after she fought off the Witch up in Oogaboo. Of course, she didn't know if she killed the Witch or the shoes were hiding her. Either way, she'd seen neither hide nor hair of a Witch in over five weeks of travel.

  "Are you even alive?" she muttered.

  Dorothy was pretty sure it was the Wicked Witch of the West that attacked her. From what little she'd learned of the current four Cardinal Witches, she knew that Wanda was the most sneaky and most likely to ambush an enemy rather than fight face-to-fa
ce. The two Good Witches would try to negotiate an agreement first. Jezebelle was more likely to strike from afar, while Glinda liked to seduce her enemies, and then strike very close and personal.

  I need a 'get out of my way' spell, she thought. So I can get out of here faster.

  Fifteen wagons blocked the road before her. They were all large, elaborately built and painted wagons, pulled by teams of oxen. Needless to say, they moved slowly. Some of the families that lived in them were actually walking and playing beside the road, and having no problem keeping up. Since there was traffic going the other way, and the area immediately next to the road was impassable, Dorothy was forced to amble along behind them.

  Her mind named them gypsies. The men looked big and dangerous, while the women were shapely and beautiful. Most of them had hair colors that ranged from cobalt to bright pink. Since even the youngest babies had such hair, Dorothy assumed it was natural. It wouldn't be the strangest thing she'd seen in Oz. But they dressed like stereotypical movie gypsies, and seemed just as passionate, so that's how she thought of them.

  "So frustrating," he grumbled, glancing nervously at Kiamo Ko again. "I should've left earlier."

  The Wicked Witch's seat of power was in the middle of a valley, which was itself in the middle of the Winkie Mountains. It was a big valley, too. It took a full two days to ride across it, with the city straddling the Rocky River dead center. Every available acre was used as farm and pasture land to feed that huge city.

  The yellow brick road went through the middle of the city, so Dorothy took a side road around Kiamo Ko. The last place she wanted to be was within the Wicked Witch's seat of power. So she spent the night at an inn. Being so worried about Witches, she slept in her shoes and they vibrated warnings twice.

  The next morning, Dorothy was able to leave before the gypsies, who camped beside the road. She let the horse stretch his legs and set his own pace. It was a pleasantly quick pace, too, which made her wonder if he could sense her stress and desire to put distance between them and Kiamo Ko.

  The dirt track that passed for a road in Oz intersected with the yellow brick road just after midday. Her pace quickened even more at that time. The yellow brick roads weren't any wider than the dirt roads, but wagons and carts moved quicker and that sped up everyone.

  "Awesome," Dorothy said upon spotting an inn. It was late in the day, with the sun just over the western horizon. Night came early and fast in the mountains. "I'm worn out."

  After her initial gypsy delay the previous day, she'd pushed hard to reach the other side of the valley. That inn was her goal, and she smiled big and bright when she spotted it. A hot bath and good food awaited her, but not until after her horse was taken care of properly.

  As she approached, Dorothy noticed a number of young women gathered on the side of the road. They wore travel robes of red, purple, or yellow, which were girded with sword belts. Though they all looked young and pretty, there was a toughness to them that screamed warrior. She assumed they were caravan guards of some sort, though warrior women in Oz weren't that rare.

  Several of them looked at her rather intently, and her shoes vibrated.

  They're nothing but trouble, she thought, not needing the shoes to tell her that. I wonder if they are brigands?

  She'd been warned repeatedly about brigands, but hadn't seen any sign of them yet. That might've just changed. And then they all mounted up and returned to the road, following after her. A chill slithered up Dorothy's spine, so she stealthily loosened the holstered pistol.

  I should've worn the two holster belt, she thought.

  The inn was one of the larger ones. A ten foot tall palisade surrounded its yard, enclosing three corrals, a barn, two stables, a farrier's shop, and the main building. The inn itself was three floors tall, half-timbered, and thatch-roofed. Its yellow paint was faded and cracked, and the unpainted barn and stables were gray and sun-bleached. Each corral held a different domestic animal: Horses, oxen, and mules. The few donkeys she spotted were in with the mules.

  Dorothy headed straight to a stable, but not expecting a stall to be open. Her mount would probably spend the night in the corral, which was cheaper. One of the tough looking women following her passed by closely as she tied her horse next to the water trough. Her eyes were drawn to the blonde's black eye-patch.

  "Hello, what's your name, beautiful?" the blonde asked.

  She looked tall and athletic under a red travel robe, open to reveal her wearing a leather halter top and matching pants. Her abs looked amazing, but the sword sheathed on her hip was worrisome. Yet it was the way the stranger looked her over like she was the sweetest piece of candy that bothered Dorothy the most.

  "Silver," she said, warily watching the warrior woman. "And you are?"

  "Pasetta," she said. The warrior looked at Dorothy's feet. "Love the stilettos, though they aren't very practical on the road."

  "They have their benefits," Dorothy replied.

  Pasetta's eyes lifted to the katana's long hilt jutting over Dorothy's shoulder. "That's an interesting looking blade you have. Mind if I look at it?"

  "Look all you want, but I'm not going to give it to you."

  "Nice. You have a little attitude," the blonde said, eye narrowing. "I bet you're good in bed."

  "Actually, I'm amazing," Dorothy said. "Not that you'll ever know firsthand."

  Pasetta's companions began moving closer, encircling Dorothy. Two more small groups of women joined them. The young farmgirl looked around, feeling adrenaline starting to flow and fire up her muscles. Her hands felt terribly empty, and she silently cursed herself for wrapping the Uzis in blankets and stuffing them in her saddlebags to keep them clean.

  Hopefully the shock and awe of my pistol will be enough, she thought.

  If it was just her and Pasetta fighting, she'd stick with just the sword. She was confident they didn't have a defense for her style of sword fighting; whereas, she had sparred with the katana against a European straight sword a few times.

  "Challenge accepted," Pasetta said with a cruel smile. She slowly pulled her sword. "Shall we dance first?"

  Dorothy's confidence wavered. Pasetta looked too confident, and none of her friends looked concerned. Some of the other women were grinning wickedly. They all thought the fight was as good as over. That pissed Dorothy off, so she drew the katana with a flourish.

  "I'm road weary and all out of patience, warrior. I don't want to fight you," Dorothy said. "Leave me alone."

  "Fine. Give me those pretty shoes and we'll leave you alone," Pasetta said.

  "Over my dead body."

  "If you insist."

  High heels were difficult to make at their level of technology, so rare in Oz outside the ruling classes. Her Silver Stilettos were worth a small fortune even if not enchanted. So it could be the women warriors were brigands, and were just robbing her. But there was something in Pasetta's eyes that said it was more than that. Dorothy was afraid the women figured out the shoes were a powerful talisman.

  The other warriors pulled their swords. All of the other guests in the yard took off running for safety. Dorothy was left alone in the middle of twenty armed, hostile women.

  "Give us the shoes, Dorothy," Pasetta said, smirking when she gasped. "Yes, we know who and what you are, bitch. If you submit to us, give us the shoes, we might let you go unharmed after we have a little fun."

  "Aww, you lie so pretty," Dorothy said.

  Her heart began to hammer. It was the perfect time to test out a fighting tactic that occurred to her on the road. Failure meant capture, or death. But she was outnumbered and doomed as it stood. The pistol might frighten the warriors, but she only had enough bullets in the magazine to kill half of them. And she knew she'd miss at least half the time.

  Pasetta was the closest foe to her, at about ten feet. The others were slowly closing on her. Dorothy focused on that spot just behind the one-eyed blonde, while covertly clicking her heels three times.

  "What?" Pasetta cried
when Dorothy vanished.

  She reappeared almost instantly behind the blonde. Dorothy was facing away from Pasetta, so spun around as she switched the sword to her left hand, and then brought the edge of her sword against the warrior woman's neck.

  "Don't move," Dorothy barked. Everyone froze. She smiled and kissed Pasetta's ear. "How romantic is this? In fact, tell your little friends to leave out the gate. Every single one of them."

  Dorothy pulled her pistol.

  "You might kill me, but my women will take you down," Pasetta said.

  "But you'll be dead."

  "Live by the sword," the blonde said, shrugging. "Die by the sword."

  "Speaking of swords, drop yours," Dorothy commanded.

  "Make me."

  The others started creeping towards them. It was time for a little demonstration. She pressed the pistol to Pasetta's forearm, right between the two bones, and pulled the trigger.

  Pap!

  The warrior screamed, her hand opened, and the sword fell to the ground. The other warriors jumped back wide-eyed. One of them to Dorothy's right started to pull a throwing dagger. She swung the pistol around and shot her in the thigh.

  Pap!

  "Everyone, drop your weapons are the next one dies," she shouted. "Pasetta first."

  "No!" Pasetta cried, and drove an elbow into Dorothy's ribs.

  Before the pain even registered, the Sa'Kor flipped Dorothy over onto the ground. In a flash she twisted the sword from her grasp, and then the pistol. Before she understood what happened, the young brunette was staring up at the pistol, with her own sword at her throat.

  "Submit or die, Dorothy!"

  "I… I submit. Don't shoot."

  Hostile hands grabbed both arms, her legs, and even her hair. Pasetta's knee came up and slammed into her jaw, and the lights went out.

  Dorothy was only out a few seconds. The women were laying her on the ground, face up. Her shirt and sports bra were already gone, tossed aside. Someone tried to pull off her right shoe, which was met with a flash and snap. Pasetta cursed furiously for a moment.