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

by Warren Thomas

  "Glinda warned us the shoes were enchanted, and we might not be able to remove them," Pasetta said. "Finish stripping her, and then put the spreader bar on her."

  "Why a spreader bar?" another asked.

  "We have to keep the shoes apart to stop her magic."

  "Yes! Just before she vanished and reappeared behind you, I saw her pull her feet together and tap the heels together."

  "Magic is too weird for words," yet another said. "Give me a sword and shield any day."

  "Get the horses. Throw Dorothy over her saddle," Pasetta commanded. "Bind her wrists, and then run the rope under the horse and to the spreader bar. That'll keep her secure enough."

  The Kansas farmgirl did her best, and it took ten of them to finishing stripping her. It took the Sa'Kor twice as long to get her ankles locked at the opposite ends of a wooden spreader bar. Dorothy had never felt so helpless and vulnerable, or humiliated.

  She continued to kick and buck, and did everything possible to stop them, but the warriors quickly and efficiently tossed her face down over her saddle, and then bound her in place with a rope. She realized real fast that it was not going to be a pleasant way to travel.

  Her clothes were left in the dirt.

  One of the women started leading her horse to the gate. She spotted Pasetta kneeling over a glowing bowl. A small black bubble rose up out of the bowl.

  A man stepped out of the inn and shouted. "Slavers! We've alerted the Witch's soldiers. I suggest you leave the girl behind and run as fast as you can."

  That encouraged Dorothy, but none of her captors seemed the least bit concerned. The leader shook her head woefully, and turned back to her enchanted bowl and the bubble.

  "To Glinda Upland," Pasetta said. "Success!"

  The bubble flew away, heading straight as an arrow toward Kiamo Ko. That surprised Dorothy. Shouldn't it be heading east, toward Emerald City? And then she realized what that meant.

  Chapter 15

  Laughter and the clinking of dinnerware filled the opulent chamber. The fine china was purest white, with a gold rim and a delicate yellow flower design in the middle. The crystal glasses were also rimmed in gold, and the tableware was pure gold. The silk tablecloth was the same shade of amber as the silk covered walls, and the hardwood floors were a rich golden brown.

  After a week trapped inside the Amber Palace, Glinda was quite sick of yellow.

  Wanda knew she was up to something, so didn't give her a moment alone. If the Witch of the West wasn't by her side, one of the Winkie Guard officers was enthusiastically engaging her in conversation. They wouldn't give her any chance to think, much less plot her escape.

  Custom said Wanda was Mistress of the House, so her guests couldn't leave without permission. Even King Scarecrow obeyed the Rules of Hospitality. Though, in reality, Glinda could walk or fly out anytime she desired. The ramifications would be severe, though, since everyone would consider her without honor. Even if she gained the Silver Shoes, the blow to her social status among the Witches and ruling elite might make it a mute point. Of course, she could rule out of raw power and fear, but what a miserable land it would become.

  Wanda sat at the middle of the High Table. Glinda, though an honored guest, was seated at the Low Table. It was quite an insult, but Wanda justified it by seating the newest arrivals at the High Table. The beautiful Witch suspected her nemesis invited them just so she could insult her.

  While all of the Winkie nobles at the High and Low Tables were splendidly attired in all shades of yellow and gold, Wanda wore a deep purple gown, black cape, and her pointed Witch hat. She was the only one of the Cardinal Witches to constantly wear the symbol of their status.

  Glinda wore a white gown, with ruby jewelry. She might not be a Good Witch any longer, but she still loved light, soft colors. And, being a Quadling, she had an affinity for all things red.

  "More red wine for the King's Witch," Wanda called.

  She rolled her eyes. There were three full glasses of red wine before her already. She knew better than to get drunk around Wanda. That Wicked Witch would take full advantage of her in a flash.

  The beating of wings made everyone look up and around. Glinda thought a flying monkey had invaded the dining hall, but the truth proved even more startling.

  Wanda cried out angrily before Glinda looked up and spotted the object of her host's ire. A beautiful platinum blonde in a blue gown and a spectacular pair of wings circled high above. The new arrival seemed quite pleased with the commotion her sudden appearance caused.

  "Jezebelle," Glinda muttered. "Great. That's exactly what I need. Two Wicked Witches watching my every move."

  "How dare you violate the sanctity of my sanctuary without permission!" Wanda shouted.

  "Oh, hush. You aren't any fun, Wanda," the Wicked Witch of the East said with a giggle. "Since when do I need permission to come play with you? And you haven't even complimented me on my beautiful wings."

  "Yes, yes, you ate the golden pear and now have wings," Wanda said. "Anyone who eats the pear gets them, Jezebelle. I'll be impressed when you conjure up a pair of permanent wings."

  Jezebelle came to a landing in the middle of the chamber, facing the High Table, the Low Tables to either side. She struck a sassy pose, clearly enjoying being the center of attention.

  "You flew all the way from Sapphire City?" Wanda asked. "Just to show me your wings?"

  "Well, it wasn't the only reason I came," Jezebelle purred, giving her a lusty look.

  Glinda raised an eyebrow. Scarecrow needed to know that the two Wickeds were intimate. That changed things.

  Wanda sighed, shaking her head. "I really don't have time for this."

  The platinum blonde Witch looked surprised. And then her eyes landed on Glinda. The Imperial Witch held Jezebelle's gaze for several intense seconds, before ending their connection with a wag of the brows. Jezebelle staggered back a step, before giving Wanda a suspicious look.

  "Plotting something wicked, are we?" the blonde said. She scowled. "Hello, Glinda formerly of the South. I should've known you’d be here. Neither you nor your overstuffed master are any fun."

  "One should be careful about what one says about the Wizard of Oz," Glinda said with a little steel. "I might have to visit you next."

  Jezebelle gave her a dismissive sniff, but Glinda knew she frightened the other Witch. Poor Jezebelle was just fifth in actual magical power, behind Glinda, Wanda, Olivia, and Locasta. Even Diana was growing in power faster than the Witch of the East, so in a few decades she might be sixth.

  A soldier hurried up to Wanda and whispered in her ear. The raven-haired beauty looked surprised, and then scowled. At that moment, a movement caught Glinda's attention. A tiny black bubble had come through an open window and was flying toward her. She covertly used her wand to slow it down, and try to hide its presence.

  Dropping her left arm straight down, she opened her hand and waited for the gentle touch of the enchanted bubble. Then she pretended to sweep her long tresses out of her face, bringing the bubble up to her ear.

  It burst, with Pasetta's voice saying, "Success!"

  A hot thrill rushed through the beautiful Witch. Her breath caught and she bit her lip. Wanda was still speaking with the soldier. Glinda had a bad feeling Dorothy was behind whatever they were discussing. With Wanda distracted, the time was perfect.

  "I grow weary, sister," Glinda called out as she stood. "Permission to leave?"

  Technically, she should request permission to "retire." Permission to leave meant depart the premises. Wanda shot her an annoyed look and waved her hand.

  "Permission granted."

  Glinda bowed as she backed away from the table. After three steps, she spun and strode out of the banquet hall. She had to hurry before Wanda realized her mistake.

  With her wand, she quickly changed into a more appropriate outfit: blood red corset, black leather pants, and black thigh boots. A sword appeared on her left hip, with a long dagger on the right. Her long silky t
resses were pulled into a ponytail high on the back of her head.

  "Girded for battle, and ready to claim my prize," Glinda muttered as she entered her chambers. A flying carpet lay unfurled on the floor before an open window. She stepped atop it, and activated the spell with a brief twirl of the wand. "Take me to Captain Pasetta. Dorothy is mine."

  Chapter 16

  Some yellow bubbles flew all around them as the Sa'Kors rode hard up the road. Dorothy wasn't sure how she felt about them, since the bubbles hinted at the Wicked Witch's involvement, but they frightened Glinda's soldiers.

  "You're going to kill me like this!" Dorothy screamed.

  Riding face down, draped over the saddle, and tied in place was even worse than she initially thought. It was brutal. Their frantic pace made it even worse.

  "I should've gagged you," Pasetta said. And then louder, "Look for a trail leading off the road. Those bubbles are alerting troops ahead of us, so we'll never make it out of Winkie Country on the Yellow Brick Road."

  Dorothy's horse started slowing, limping. Oh my god, those bitches hurt my horse! He's gone lame.

  "Captain Pasetta! Dorothy's mount is hurt," the soldier holding the lead called. "We have to stop."

  In the short time she'd been their prisoner, Dorothy had learned a lot about them by just listening to their conversations. They were a cavalry platoon of Glinda's infamous Sa'Kor Guard. Pasetta was their troop commander. And Glinda was trying to capture her to give to King Scarecrow, but mostly to steal her powerful Silver Stilettos for herself.

  Dorothy's mount just stopped mid-road, dragging her handler out of her saddle. The others reined in and started to mill about, swords out and looking back warily. She could hear the Winkie cavalry coming, but none of them knew how many Winkies they would face. Then Captain Pasetta spurred over to her.

  "Cut her off the beast and tie her behind my saddle," Pasetta command.

  The Sa'Kor commander jumped down and personally cut the rope that went from Dorothy's wrists, under the horse, and to the spreader bar strapped to her ankles. The farmgirl slid off on the other side just as a single Winkie soldier rode around the bend below them.

  He stood up in the saddle, looked straight at Dorothy, and turned to shout, "We caught up with the slavers!"

  "Dammit, they really think we're slavers," Pasetta muttered. "They'll try to catch us twice as hard now."

  "Captain, maybe if we waited and explained she was a criminal wanted by King Scarecrow – " a soldier started to say, but was cut off by Pasetta.

  "No! Even if they believed us, they'd take Dorothy to their Witch," Pasetta said. "And Wanda would get the Silver Shoes instead of Glinda." She looked down at Dorothy, then at her shoes, "We'll let you go if you give us the shoes."

  Dorothy had a flash of hope. They really only cared about the damned shoes. But if the shoes were so important, so powerful that Glinda would risk everything to possess them, then she couldn't surrender them without a fight. Besides, everyone in Oz hated her so much it would be a death sentence to give up her Silver Stilettos.

  "No," Dorothy said. "If Glinda wants them, then she'll have to take them off my feet herself."

  The Sa'Kor commander growled and pulled Dorothy's sheathed katana out from under her sword belt. She took a step toward the bound and helpless farmgirl, one hand gripping the sheath and the other on the hilt like she was about to draw it. Dorothy had a bad feeling that killing her would release the shoes from her feet. If Pasetta was willing to kill her, then Glinda wanted the shoes more than her. But the sound of a lot more approaching riders stopped the cavalry officer.

  "It's a full platoon of dragoons!" one of the others shouted.

  A "dragoon" in Ozian military terms was a very heavily armed and armored cavalryman. In comparison, the Sa'Kors that captured Dorothy were light cavalry. Really, horse archers. And they deployed their primary weapons right away, sending a steady streams of arrows at the approaching dragoons.

  Pasetta cursed a blue streak as she dropped the katana to jump back into the saddle. The Winkie were too close for her to use her bow, so she pulled her sword and charged them. Half of the other Sa'Kors followed their commander into the fight.

  Dorothy saw her chance. She looked around and located the largest, sharpest rock around. She scooted over on her butt, because the way she was bound wouldn't allow any other method. When she reached the rock, Dorothy began rubbing the bindings between her wrists across the sharpest edge. The young woman watched the shadowy shapes fighting all around her.

  At first it was hard to distinguish the Winkie from the Sa'Kor warriors. After a few minutes, she realized the Winkie dragoons were larger men, upon even larger war horses. The women warriors held their own for a few minutes, but the Winkie quickly got the upper-hand and started pushing them back.

  "Come on, rock," Dorothy muttered, rubbing her bindings even more frantically. She'd much rather be dragged before Glinda than any Wicked Witch, especially West. A Sa'Kor's death scream rattled her, but then the woman's horse trotted over next to her lame mount. "There's my way out of here."

  The tough leather bindings around her wrists suddenly snapped, and loosened. She cried out with joy, still struggling to unravel the many windings.

  I'll grab my saddlebags, with my Uzis, and get the hell out of Dodge, she thought, looking from the lame horse to the dead Sa'Kor's mount. And ride like the wind.

  Something, or someone, whooshed past just a dozen feet overhead. Dorothy looked up and around. Cold dread washed through her.

  Chapter 17

  Wanda strode into the guest suite given to Glinda. The only people inside were the evening chamber maid and four palace guards. The chamber maid was the one who discovered the Witch had left the palace.

  "Do we know when she esca… When she left?"

  "It had to be immediately after your gave her permission, Great One," one of the guards said. "The chamber maid arrived to see if the Imperial Witch needed anything just a few minutes later."

  She gave the guard a sharp look. He was one of the men on duty inside the banquet hall. As she recalled, he was assigned to Glinda, so would've followed her back to her chambers.

  Until that moment, she hadn't thought about Glinda's exact words. He was right, though. Glinda used her distraction to trick her into giving permission to leave the palace. That Witch made her crazy.

  "I couldn't find her, Great One," the maid said, interrupting her reverie. She was a gray-haired middle-aged woman, and a long time servant in the palace. "I then noticed the flying carpet was missing as well, so notified the guards."

  The Wicked Witch of the West walked around the chamber, her gnarly black-wood wand a blur as she tried to divine what exactly happened at the moment of Glinda's departure. Something had to change to make the Witch leave like that. No message bubbles passed through the suite's windows, but her enchantments on them told her exactly which window Glinda flew out of and when.

  "You'll not escape me so easily next time, sister," she muttered.

  Captain Nazar rushed in. "Great One! This was just delivered from the inn where the slavers stole a young woman."

  Wanda waved him away, no longer interested in the fate of some girl foolish enough to travel alone. But a blue checkered pattern caught her eye. She'd never seen anything like it before, at least not used in clothing. It tickled a distant memory that she couldn't quite place, but knew it was important.

  "What do you have there?"

  "Odd looking clothes, mostly," Captain Nazar said, poking around in the wooden box. He dumped the contents on the floor. "Shirt, and what looks like undergarments… And this belt with a heavy steel object."

  The Witch bent over to study the small pile of oddities. The "undergarments" looked a little heavy and sturdy to be such, but who wore such a strange outfit? No one in Winkie Country, that was for sure. The blue and white checkered shirt kept pulling her eyes back.

  "Gingham," Wanda said at length. "It was said that Dorothy of Kansas wore gingham, b
ut I've never seen it before." Her eyes locked on the steel object sheathed on the wide belt. "Is that a weapon of some kind, Captain?"

  "If it is, then it's magical," he said. "There's no sharp edges. I guess you could bludgeon someone with it, since it is quite solid and heavy."

  "Give it to me."

  Captain Nazar struggled to pull it out of its leather encasing. There was a small strap holding it in place, which he finally figured out and broke it apart with a click. Wanda found that quite interesting, being sort of like a button, just more clever. He immediate handed her the object.

  "It is heavy. Not as heavy as a sword, but I'd think it too unwieldy to be a weapon," she said. It was oddly shaped, with a crescent-shaped thing inside a steel circle. One extension had a wood piece on each side. The other extension ended with a hole in the middle, about the diameter of a child's pinky finger.

  "The wooden part reminds me of the handgrip on a Quadling crossbow," Captain Nazar said. "That would make the piece in the steel loop the trigger."

  "Oh," Wanda replied. She wrapped her hand around the "handgrip" and found her index finger naturally went to the "trigger." "Like this?"

  Pap!

  The thing violently jumped out of her hand. She yelped and leapt back. The object bounced on the marble floor, but remained silent. Then she looked up at Captain Nazar. He had an incredulous look on his face.

  "What's wrong?" Wanda asked.

  He opened his mouth, and blood came out. He looked down at his armored chest, fingering a small hole. She looked at the hole, then at the blood, and finally at the object. Nazar dropped to his knees, and then toppled over.

  "He's dead," the maid said. "It’s a dark talisman, O Great One. A thunder stick."

  Wanda gave her a sharp look. "Well, it didn't exactly thunder. And it's definitely not a stick." She picked it up again, took it carefully in hand, and pointed it at a closed window. Tightening her grip, she pulled the trigger again.