Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They are the property of the Baum estate, Gregory Maguire and some other people. The lyrics at the end of the story are, of course, from the 1939 movie
Fiyero stopped running for a minute, doubling over to catch his breath. Several seconds fled by before he straightened himself.
He looked around, wildly searching his surroundings. Where in Oz was he? Some remote spot on the Yellow Brick Road. Cornfields on either side of him, stretching on far as he could see. He had no idea he had run so far.
The sound of shouting in the distance caught up with his ears, still ringing from the sudden and unexpected flight. He whirled around. The Gale Force mob was closer than he would have believed. He swore. By the Unnamed God, the jackals were persistant. There was no other option, he decided quickly. He dashed off to his left, disappearing into the crop. He muttered a prayer that it would be sufficient enough to conceal him. He only went inside twenty feet or so. He dropped down low and hoped that they would pass him by.
Elsewhere in Oz...
"Oh my dear Glinda," a munchkin girl cried, rushing up to her. "That dirty ol' turncoat Tiggular has been found by the Gale Force. They've chased him from the city and are still in pursuit."
Glinda's face lit up with joy at the news. "Oh, that is most wonderful. I'll just run along and tell the Wizard right away." She ran from the room fast as her heels would allow.
Cornfield...
Fiyero breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like he may get away after all. One of them had walked by, less than two feet from where he was hidden but had kept going.
A green Pfenix dropped from the ground, lighting beside him. He stared at it in horror. It stared back. A few tense seconds ticked by. "Hi there," it cried in a loud voice.
One of the brutes was immediatly upon him. The behemoth grabbed him by the nape of the neck and hauled him to his feet. Drove him like cattle to the road. Shoved him forward, roughly. Momentum carried him forward several steps. He stumbled and fell hard. Laughter rang out. Incensed, he pushed himself up. A cudgel fell across his back. So startled was he by this, that he cried out before he could stop it. Another burst of laughter.
The palace...
Glinda slipped quietly into an empty room. She took care to be sure that the door was closed and secure behind her. She threw her arms back and screamed at the top of her lungs. She screamed again and again. She stomped her feet and tore at her hair, looking quite deranged. If her subjects could see her now...
Didn't he know? The fool! Inside the Emerald City they could only take him into custody, haul him off to the jail house. Once outside the city walls they could do what ever they wanted to him. And they would be angry...The thought of what would come of him wrenched her heart.
"Fiyero," she wailed. She fell to the floor, so taken with grief. It clawed at her insides like some wild beast, seeming to tear loose of her flesh. The anguish became nearly physical and she screamed one more time. "Oh my love. My darling. Fiyero!" She writhed back and forth sobbing.
Meanwhile on the Yellow Brick Road...
Fiyero gritted his teeth and tried to regain his feet for the second time. A well spun quarterstaff however, knocked his feet right out from under him. His mouth struck the ground and he spit out a mouthful of blood. "Damn you! Cowards! Get it over with," he snarled at them.
That was apparently the cue they were waiting for. They fell on him with their cudgels, their boots and even their bare fists. Kicking, pounding, slamming. On and on it went.
Palace...
Quick as a switch is flipped, she ceased in her grieving. She jumped to her feet and smoothed her gown, brushing away dirt and dust. A mirror, thank goodness. She strode over to it, briskly and appraised herself. Her reflection smiled back at her as she fluffed her hair. She gave a little giggle as she did so and returned to the hall, hurrying along to the Wizard's chamber.
Yellow Brick Road...
The beating had ceased. Not that these men were particularlly merciful of anything like that. Not so. Everyman jack of them was efficient at the business of dealing death. So you see, there was simply no need for the flurry of blows to continue indefinitely.
Fiyero lifted his head from the Yellow Brick Road, now stained red with his blood. Would anyone now recognize him as Prince of the Arjiki? What with one eye swollen shut, lips bruised and bloody, jaw and cheekbone crushed? The mob laughed and jeered. Apparently it hadn't been enough to beat him nearly senseless. There had to be a certain amount of humiliation involved.
"Elphaba," he whispered, lovingly. They seized him by his arms and pulled him to his feet, with little care for his hurts. A vision of her rose. She was frantic, working herself into a frenzy. She snatched the Grimmerie from it's hidey-hole and flipped wildly through it. She scanned her finger down one page and began to chant words that he fancied he could hear. "Oh my love, don't worry yourself. I was never worth it. It's too late for me anyhow." She paused, and glanced around. Had she heard him, he wondered. But then she was gone.
He was vaguely aware that they were doing something to him. Tying him to something. Was it a pole? It seemed inconsequential. His body and mind seemed seperated for the moment. He dismissed it.
He didn't know why he said the next name. Perhaps some unconcious memory of Shiz had flickered imperceptively to the surface. "Glinda." And there she was, looking exquisite in a flowing gown. Her hair all strung with beads and blossoms. Indeed, she seemed to glitter in the moonlight. She stood on a balcony and smiled vacously at the crowd below, feeding ignorance and emptiness to the masses. "Stupid, emptyheaded bitch! Tool of the Wizard!
They were gone now. Having done their terrible work, there was no point standing around to gloat. After all, there countless others to terrorize. To oppress. And he was already a broken man.
"Mama," he cried into the darkness. Nothing happened this time, no image filled his vision, allowing a brief respite from the cruel reality. Perhaps this was because, in his earliest years, the woman that he had called Mama had only been a young nursemaid charged with his care. She had later been dismissed for the confusion, never to be seen or heard from by him again.
Time stretched on and a crushing lonliness prevailed. More terrible than any of his injuries, it consumed him. He began to cry, quietly at first but it escalated to racking sobs. He soon exhausted himself of the grief, however.
The sun began to rise. It would no doubt be a beautiful day, he reflected. Ironic yes?
For the first time, he noticed that he had been tied loosely to a scarecrow stand, like some messianiac figure.
He watched the sun come up over the opposite field.
The blood that had gushed and streamed earlier had reduced to a slow but steady drip. It turned the grass beneath him brown.
His senses began to fail. Hands going numb. He slumped forward against the ropes that held him. He watched the sun.
A silly little rhyme, sang by the nursemaid to him, came to mind. Inexorably, the tune rose to his lips.
"I...could...wile away...the hours...Conferrin' with the flowers, consultin' with the rain..."
His voice came out low and rather weak. He coughed, feeling the strain of it. He drew in a rattling breath and continued.
"And my head I'd be scratchin' while my thoughts were busy hatchin'...If I only had a brain."
The timbre grew and his voice rose to a rich baritone.
"I would not be just a nuffin', my head all full of stuffin', my heart all full of pain."
A small flock of crows took flight from the opposite field, cawing out their derision at having been disturbed.
"I would dance and be merry. Life would be a ding-a-derry."
He lifted his head, one last time to see the sun as it continued its journey upwards. He summoned his last vestiges of strength as he belted out the final verse in a voice pure and clear.
"...if I only had a brain!"