Making stuff up as I go along. Like Mother South, and West's name. She just looks like a Morwen to me. Also the Beast Forever's effects, etc.
Warning: I really don't like Glinda. I am not inclined to make her a sympathetic character. If you think she should be redeemed, you should probably not read this one.
I understand that Tip is a boy, but at this point in time he hasn't hammered that home to West, and she's looking at his current physical form and using that as a label. See my disclaimer about how the opinions of the characters aren't necessarily mine. Really, the only people who know his gender are the witches who were there when he claimed his heritage, because right now he has to be Ozma for his people. Hopefully, this will change.
The Vessel of Truth and Solace was...pleased. Despite the return of the Beast Forever, despite the shadow that lay over Emerald City, despite the destruction and despair spreading through the land; despite all of it.
Part of it was simply the defeat of the Wizard, useless old lump that he had been, and the restoration of magic and power where it rightly belonged. Part of it was seeing Pastoria's heir take her throne; the Cardinal Witches had always acknowledged the traditional ruler of Oz, and it was good to have that balance restored.
Part of it, though she would never breathe a word of it to anyone in any tongue, was feeling her Mother's arms around her, hearing "Morwen" whispered in her ear in love and tenderness; the first time in over twenty years that anyone had spoken her name rather than her title.
But a large part of it was purely seeing Glinda sulk. Nothing delighted Morwen so much as the Mother of the Sound and Pure getting put firmly in her place.
So she folded her arms, leaned her shoulders against one of the pavilion's poles, and watched with carefully contained glee as Queen Ozma shut Glinda down.
"No." Ozma lifted her chin and held Glinda's gaze, no easy task even for a witchling. "We will not throw lives away against the Beast Forever, not until you can prove to me that it will have an effect!"
"It will have an effect! We can weaken the Beast if we just - "
"I said no." Ozma already had the trick of commanding, Morwen thought approvingly as Glinda fell silent, looking taken aback. Boy, girl, or tomato, she's got the knack. Now if only she can keep it.
Morwen didn't fool herself. They were in a bad position, a nearly hopeless one, and it was only Mother South's wild hope - loudly protested by Glinda and Morwen - that might save them.
I'll admit it to myself, if not to anyone else. We're out of ideas.
But Mother South, freed by the Wizard's death and no longer submitting to Glinda's control, was still the mistress of them all, and she thought she could convince the interloper girl to help them.
So off she went, and here we wait, squabbling. Morwen knew quite well that what Glinda wanted most of all was the defeat of the Beast Forever using her witchlings - a triumph that would give her the power and ascendency she craved. But Ozma, canny child, was refusing.
Don't know how long she can keep it up, though. "Mother South told us to wait," Morwen said, straightening and stepping up to Ozma's side. "Are you defying both her and our Queen?"
Ozma's mouth twitched, almost a flinch, but she didn't move otherwise. Glinda switched her glare to Morwen, who gave her a sweet smile. After a moment, Glinda jerked away, barely nodding to Ozma as she stalked off.
"Nicely done, my Queen," Morwen said out of the corner of her mouth; no sense in riling Glinda enough to make her come storming back.
Ozma blew out a breath and sat down on the nearest bench as if her knees had given way. "When is Mother South coming back?" she asked, and if it was almost a wail, at least she was keeping her voice down. "I don't know what to do."
Morwen shook her head, sobering. "I don't know, but it should be soon. You're doing fine, you know. What your people need more than anything right now is to see you staying calm."
Ozma's eyes flashed as she sat up. "What my people need is the death of the Beast Forever," she said hotly. "They need a cure for the plague."
Half-chagrined, half-amused, Morwen inclined her head. "I stand corrected, your Majesty."
"Oh, stop that." Ozma slumped again. They were speaking in low tones despite the emptiness of the huge tent; normally the Queen's presence would be thronged with guards, courtiers, and petitioners, even in this semi-organized retreat, but Ozma had ordered them all out for a few minutes' rest. The few guards remaining were mostly posted around the evacuation camp, though two did stand at the pavilion's entrance. Morwen wondered dryly how long they would last, between the plague and the trickle of desertion. At this rate we'll be guarded by Glinda's witchlngs before long.
She glanced upwards uneasily. The monstrous creature perched on Emerald City's highest spire couldn't be seen from where they were, at least ten miles from the city, but its presence was palpable. The shadow it cast grew daily, and where it fell pestilence and blight followed, felling men, beasts, and plants. The only mercy to be found, so far, was that witches were immune to the disease.
And our powers can fight it off in others...for a time. But we only have so much strength. Only a witch could kill a witch - but a witch could die if her powers were drained too far.
They were fighting a holding action, but as the Beast's shadow expanded, they would lose.
They'd evacuated the city in a scramble when the first attempts to kill the Beast Forever proved fruitless, and Ozma's retinue had set up a makeshift court using campaign tents from the last war. But they'd had to retreat as the Beast's shadow grew, and it showed no signs of stopping. Not everyone had been able to leave; there were still people in the shadowed area, sick and dying.
Ozma prodded at her crown. "I hope she can find us," she said quietly. "We'll probably have to move again tomorrow."
"Don't worry about that." Morwen bit her lip, considering. They would be coming up against the border with Ev before too long, and she had no idea how the neighboring kingdom would react to refugees - all the more so since Ev had no ruling family any longer. Perhaps we can veer east instead. But that would take them over mountains, and they had at least three hundred people and not nearly enough mounts or carts for everyone. Let's hope Mother South returns before then.
Morwen wondered sourly if the Kansas girl would agree to come back. The only good thing about it would be how much her presence would annoy Glinda.
"The remaining guard can get this herd moving if we give them enough warning," she continued. "As long as the Beast Forever doesn't stir his ugly arse and come closer."
Ozma shrugged, smiling faintly. "Ryenne will have to handle it for now." Glinda's assistant had a talent for organization. "In the meantime, I need to see the steward about supplies."
Morwen made an exaggerated curtsey, just to amuse her. "May I attend you, my Queen?"
Ozma grinned, and in a rare moment of whimsy, extended her arm. Morwen looped her own through it, and they left the pavilion to head for the mess tent.
The camp was a busy place, with everyone from displaced nobles to refugees from Emerald City's humblest streets trying to carry on, with the addition of most of Glinda's witchlings. Morwen wondered irritably why her sister didn't just pack them all home again, but she had to admit that the ones with the most control of their power were proving useful in caring for the sick.
As they neared their goal, Morwen frowned. A tall man with short-cropped hair was arguing with one of the royal guard, and he looked familiar. She pricked up her ears.
" - must see Mistress North," the man was saying. "I must."
Oh. Morwen stiffened.
She knew the taste of him, remembered how he'd been entangled by Glinda's spell. Oh, my. Dorothy's devoted hound. How unexpected.
But before she could decide what to do about him, Ozma straightened, pulling free of Morwen. "You!" she said, her voice harsh with surprise. "I remember you."
The man - Dorothy had called him Lucas - turned, hand falling towards the hilt of a sword he wasn't wearing. At the sight of them, he hesitated, then swept a proper bow. "Your Majesty?"
Ozma swept up to him, gaze intent. "You were with the girl who freed me."
Lucas frowned in puzzlement, brows drawing together. "Dorothy? She freed you? But - " He cocked his head, face softening a little. "Ah. My apologies, your Majesty. I didn't recognize you."
Ozma waved that off impatiently. "Are you here to join the Wizard's guard? The Wizard is dead."
"I - so I'm told." Lucas glanced warily at Morwen. "I need to see Mistress North."
Morwen snorted. "Now's not a good time to disturb her," she drawled. "If you want to keep your balls intact, that is."
"You're a soldier," Ozma interrupted. "Aren't you?"
The man's shoulders shifted uncomfortably. "I was one, once."
"Then I'm conscripting you," Ozma said firmly. "For my personal guard."
Lucas' mouth dropped open, making him look, Morwen thought unsympathetically, exactly like a stunned ox. She mastered her own surprise - it was a good idea, an excellent idea, given the man's tendency towards unswerving devotion. There weren't enough guards to adequately protect Ozma and even one more would be a help.
"I - your Majesty, I'm not - " he began, but Morwen stepped forward.
"You'll do fine," she told him, looking him over with a critical eye. He stared back, gaze chilling, but she'd dealt with much worse. "And if it's my sister you want to see, you'll definitely get the opportunity."
His brows went up at that, but after a long, thoughtful moment it was to Ozma he bowed. "It would be my privilege, your Majesty."
Ozma, who had folded her arms impatiently, nodded. "Good. Orual," she said, beckoning to one of the witchlings hurrying past, "take this man to the guard captain and tell him he's joining the Royal guard. I want him attending me as soon as he has a sword. Don't bother with the uniform right now."
Lucas blinked. "May I wash first, your Majesty?" he said mildly.
Ozma nodded. Morwen narrowed her eyes, thinking.
"Orual," she said to the page, "I'll take him, I want to have a few words with him. You go with the Queen." She spoke her next words in the guttural witches' tongue. "If anyone so much as thinks about threatening her, drain their blood out through their skin. You remember the spell."
The pale little witchling, who couldn't be more than ten, nodded with grim pride and took Ozma's hand. The Queen frowned, but allowed herself to be led away, while Morwen took Lucas' arm in a firm grip and began walking towards the front of the camp. She'd long since given up cursing the circumstances that had children learning death-magic, but it was still a bitter thing.
Lucas moved into place next to her with more grace than Morwen expected, though his arm was stiff in her clasp. She smirked up at him. "The only reason I'm not skinning you and presenting your hide to my sister is because you can be useful. We haven't enough of anyone competent to keep things running properly, and I know you're good in a fight."
Which was an understatement, for all she'd heard of him, but Morwen didn't feel like handing out compliments just then.
Lucas looked down at her, face shuttered. "That's kind of you, Mistress," he said after a moment.
"It's practical of me," she corrected. "And as I'm sure you've heard, witches are terribly practical."
He shook his head, but not in denial. "It's very strange," he said softly. "But I'm glad to to be of service."
Morwen chuckled. "For most men that would be a lie." They walked briskly along for a few minutes, dodging people busy on their own errands; one moved to intercept them, but Morwen knew him for a spoiled noble who wanted to beg favors, and threw him a glare that made him back out of their way.
"What do you want with Glinda?" she asked when they reached a relatively clear space.
He gave her a level look. "That's between the two of us."
Morwen smirked. She'd heard enough gossip among the witchlings to know, now, what Lucas had been to Glinda, and just why her sister hated the Kansas girl so much; but she wasn't inclined to let Lucas realize that. Much more fun to watch the conflagration when Glinda spots him at Ozma's side.
As for what might happen when or if the Kansas girl returned - that would be even more entertaining.
She patted Lucas' arm and walked a little faster. "We'll get you that wash, and a meal too, as soon as we've seen the captain." After all these years, Morwen understood hospitality very well, particularly when it came to men. "And then you'll report to the Queen. You'll be her particular guard; I want you with her whenever possible." And she'd make sure the captain understood that as well.
Lucas dipped his head. "Yes, MIstress West," he said, and she patted his arm again, and hummed a charm under her breath - nothing elaborate, just a bit of protection, because he was going to need it once Glinda knew he was here.
Yes, this would be extremely interesting.
