Chapter 10 - Fragile Connections

Author's Notes: Hello everyone! I had to make a few adjustments after this initially posted; apparently the site doesn't like underlining things? So hopefully things are fixed now in Az's section. If you see any errors, please let me know!

They'd struck camp before dawn that morning, and DG still rubbed the frozen, sore parts of her rump with a deep wince. Commissioner Grumpy-Pants had issued an edict that they'd go from sunup until sundown today in the hope that they'd reach warmer weather and put them much closer to the tomb.

That was all well and good, but her newly-spoiled princess self didn't much like the idea of starting a long day on nothing but a handful of nuts and freshly-picked fruit, much less a scant few hours of sleep. Twenty-one annuals or not, she was still growing, right?!

"DG, stop daydreaming and mount up," Cain called, his own horse already fed and saddled. Toto circled her feet anxiously, wagging his tail and barking up at her with far too much energy this early in the day. She grumbled an inaudible reply, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a warm hand fell upon her shoulder. Ready to whirl and give Cain a bit of her mother's "spitfire" inheritance, the princess doused her internal rage instantly as a friendly face smiled encouragingly back at her.

"Don't worry about him, he's just not a morning person," Glitch's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I think he let me sleep through my watch again."

"That would certainly explain it," she rolled her eyes, turning back to the saddle that she'd somehow managed to put on the horse … backwards. Groaning, she tugged at the straps to take it off again, but Glitch's hands replaced hers, shoulder pushing her out of the way.

"Go on," he murmured, nodding towards the remains of camp. "If you're quick, you can catch a bit of the soup from last night. There's still some in a canteen."

"Really?"

"Yeah, go." He turned to the task, moving the horse to block Cain's line of sight, and DG barely concealed a squeak of delight, giving him a grateful peck on the cheek before hurrying over to the food.

Glitch watched her go, and shook his head. And shook it again. And shook it —

He gave himself a flick to the left temple, wincing as the slight shock brought him back to his senses. It was getting easier to recognize the signs of an oncoming glitch, and he had Raw to thank for it. He'd had barely enough time before their departure to have another "reconnection" exercise with his brain, despite his initial misgivings about the entire thing.

Ha. Misgivings. Such an inappropriate word for the terrors he'd faced in recent weeks, but at least now he didn't have to brave them alone.

None aside from the Queen and Raw knew about the horrific mental episode he'd suffered soon after the Witch's defeat. The day had started with some monotony, and after giving DG and Azkadellia their lessons had retired to his workshop to tinker with a new set of agricultural plans. Minutes grew to hours, and the suns had set before he knew it, but still he continued to work, humming broken pieces of a melody.

Sometime in the late morning a headache — which he'd assumed had grown from lack of sleep and working too hard — had blossomed at the base of his skull, and no amount of determination had deterred the pain from spreading. He recalled stubbornly reaching for a set of old engineering plans when the sensations quadrupled to incalculable levels, his tortured animal screams echoing pitilessly through the halls. Raw had come careening into the workshop at full speed, finding Glitch spasmodically twitching over a desk, head clutched in his hands.

Somehow, the previously hidden facets of Ambrose had recrystallized into a full personality and taken full control of Glitch, sending their shared body into a complete meltdown as the memories of two entirely different people came into direct contact. Only halfway understanding what was happening, and afraid to alert anyone else, Raw had sought out the only truly stabilizing force Glitch would easily recognize in either form — the Queen herself.

Hardly recognizing even his own monarch through the waves of pain, Ambrose had reached for the first weapon he could find, and only the Queen's magical shield — feeble, but effective enough against a crazed madman's weakened state — had held him at a safe distance.

"Ambrose?"

"Where am I? Where am I? Who are you?"

"Ambrose, please. Take a breath. You are again among allies. Calm yourself, old friend."

Hesitation. Blinking. "…My Queen?"

"Yes, Ambrose. Do you recognize me?"

Why won't my vision clear? The advisor stepped back, the wrench one-handedly held in front of him. "This is a trick. Azkadellia ordered your execution —"

"A lie, my friend, to break the spirit of the people. Luckily for us all, the ruse failed, and I have returned to the throne." She smiled. He recognized it, felt his resolve waver, but shards of glass pierced his skull, and paranoia fogged his senses.

"No. Too convenient. Too pretty. You are not real. An illusion. What is wrong with me? What is all this? Some mockery of my workspaces? This is all wrong… wrong… WRONG… WRONG —"

Metallic clatters sent new pain stomping across his eardrums as the wrench dropped from shaking fingers. Ambrose clutched his head and, upon discovering a grotesque zipper across his skull and recognizing the tattered remains of his old court clothing, began to scream anew. He collapsed on all fours, pale skin flushed with delirious fever, voraciously drinking in the chill of marble floors and never once feeling the coolness.

A Viewer — Azkadellia used Viewers all the time, the poor creatures, this must be a trick — tried to approach, but the Queen held him back with a swift gesture, stepping in front to block him from Ambrose's view.

It didn't matter, for he saw nothing now but spattered black and red, memories not his own spilling like whitewash paint through his mind, blurring the things he knew as true, calling all his knowledge and wisdom into brutal interrogation, he was at war with this unknown person within his body, get out get out get OUT —

The Alchemist. He remembered. A leather strap tightened painfully over his forehead, but they left his eyes uncovered. He wouldn't give them the information, no, the Sun Seeder would forever remain his proud creation and not twisted to the Sorceress's cruel ends…

"Count back from one hundred," the Alchemist murmured, stepping back to allow Ambrose a full view of the saw, still wet and speckled from some other poor soul's torture, they didn't even bother to clean the thing… a prick at his arm made him jump, jostling the strap, but not enough to free himself, not enough…

"Ninety-nine…" the man purred, even as Ambrose begged and pleaded for him to stop.

"Ninety-eight…" he continued, and Ambrose fought the scream bubbling in his throat.

"Ninety-seven…" The saw began to descend, shadows dancing in the bright lights dangling haphazardly above…

"Ninety-six—" Darkness fell. Someone called his name.

"Ambrose." The word — his name — whipped with authority through him, and his screams stopped.

Ever calm and sympathetic, the Queen had talked him down to near-sanity, filling him in on what he'd missed without any gaps. His broken mind had focused on her voice, always suspicious but desperately wanting some kind of truth to hold on to. He hadn't heard her steps or seen her glide across the room, hadn't felt the touch of her gentle hand upon his lowered brow, which still burned with unspent madness. She'd spoken to him without ceasing, until there was the briefest of pauses, and a soft command, and he'd fallen prey to oblivion once more.

Only vaguely did Glitch recall the episode at all, "waking up" from Ambrose's control to find Raw deep in concentration back in the control room of Azkadellia's converted Sun Seeder. The moment he'd returned to consciousness Raw himself had snapped awake, quickly explaining what had happened, and why they were back at the tower.

Two sides of him, as the advisor understood, currently stood at a state of war; the brutal removal of half his brain had forced his fractured personality to cope by creating a new self — known affectionately as Glitch. Unless and until complete memories of his past life returned, Glitch would remain the dominant personality: Ambrose may or may not have ever resurfaced at all, but the shock of the brain reconnection, completely unprecedented before then, had clearly caused the problem.

While only a few minutes in real-time, Glitch's synapses had absorbed countless memories and personality traits of Ambrose while Raw kept them connected. The Viewer had acted as a neural conduit, repairing countless scars and filling blank spaces that Glitch never knew existed. Some effects were immediate, such as remembering the days immediately before Azkadellia's takeover, and a few facts and figures from favorite projects. Others, such as Glitch's new awareness of when his brain fell into a feedback loop, took more time to develop.

Until the moment of his "shattering," as the Queen called it, Glitch had naively thought that those small changes would be the end of it. At her direction, Raw and Glitch made weekly trips to the tower to re-establish the connections with the hope of not only preventing another "shatter," but also to help both sides of the personality learn to co-exist.

After several such sessions, Glitch could often feel Ambrose's presence as a disembodied voice within his mind, and sometimes it fought its way to the surface by adjusting a gesture or forcing a smug tone when he spoke. He found it incredibly disconcerting, but at the same time welcomed the opportunities to relearn about himself. With that said, he didn't want to lose himself to… well, himself. He may have lived the majority of his life as Ambrose, but how could he stand to simply put aside the many years as Glitch, with all of the experiences and feelings and battles he'd won?

"Zipperhead, did you forget which horse was yours?" a voice dryly asked, pulling him out of his musings. He hadn't heard Cain walking by, but refused to let it annoy him, instead finishing his task and checking DG's stirrups before turning to face the Tin Man.

"Did I? I could've sworn I rode the white horse."

"This one's a paint, Glitch."

He forced a laugh. "Aha, so it is. And how could I forget that you're the one on the white horse, Mr. Hero of the O.Z.?" he jibed with a grin.

Cain rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention to their surroundings. "Don't tell me our Princess ran off."

"I doubt it. She's useless at hunting. Couldn't exactly fend for herself."

Sigh. "Point. But that doesn't tell me where she is. We're late getting started." The irritation in his voice unmistakable, Glitch turned fully to face him, an eyebrow cocked upward.

"You know, Cain, your rating on the Grouch-o-Meter's been a bit high, even for you. I think DG would say that you've 'got a bug up your butt.' Care to elaborate on it?"

"No, I wouldn't," he snapped. Then his jaw twitched, as if he clenched his teeth, and he relaxed slightly. "I need to get this mission over with. And to do that I need the Princess on her horse ten minutes ago, not foraging for snacks!"

"There's a lot of 'I' in those statements," Glitch observed, patting the horse's neck as it shifted warily. "That isn't like you."

The Tin Man opened his mouth to speak — undoubtedly a remark of temper, judging by his expression — and shut it promptly, his ears burning bright pink. Intrigued, Glitch peered at him with careful scrutiny. Something definitely was eating at his friend, but the knowledge that they still had a long way to go before reaching the tomb nagged at him.

"Look, I'll go and find DG. But don't think I'm dropping this, Cain."

"Suit yourself. Ain't nothing to drop, anyhow," he drawled back. Turning on his heel, Cain stalked off, leaving Glitch wondering after him with intense curiosity.

"How long has she been this way?"

"Don't know, Sir. Found her this way when woke up."

"And she's said nothing to you?"

"No. Azkadellia cry for a long time. Not let me in to see her."

Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose; Ahamo sighed in defeat as he tried in vain to stare through the heavy wooden door to his eldest daughter's room. The cries just mentioned were absent now, perhaps banished by Azkadellia's knowledge that eavesdroppers stood just outside. Fragile, perhaps, and distant, but the Consort knew his daughter as a cautious and alert soul.

And certainly a child too gentle for the tortures the Witch had ruthlessly heaped on her. He could only imagine what she had encountered and been forced to endure during the years of servitude — how long, then, until he could fully regain his beautiful child, as he had DG?

"Not your fault," assured Raw with a pat to his shoulder, clearly sensing his dismay.

Ahamo shook his head, shutting his eyes against the guilt he tried to hide. "I'm sorry, my friend, but that isn't true. We made the decision to save DG and send her to the Other Side at the cost of Azkadellia."

"Did you know you could save her?"

His heart jumped in his throat, those seven words chaining him to the spot as easily as spelled iron. He knew that Az could hear, and no amount of praying that she now slept would change the fact that he had to answer the question.

For himself.

For his wife.

For his family.

Did you know you could save her?

"I…"

The door gave a squeal on its hinges, startling both into staring at Azkadellia's worn, gaunt features as they revealed themselves in the growing light from the corridor. With only half her face visible, she looked like a lost child in search of a safe haven. Ahamo remembered a night long ago when she'd had a bad dream, and had come running to his studio to hug his knees in terror. The monsters came for me! she'd sobbed, and he'd picked her up, told her a story, and tucked her safely back into bed, waiting patiently until she'd fallen asleep before returning to work.

How easy things had been for them, then. Where had such days gone? He couldn't story these monsters away. She wouldn't let him help. What use was he as a father? What use was any father who abandoned his child?

But he forced a smile, welcoming his wayward daughter into the morning light. "Good morning, Az. Did you sleep?"

"Daddy?" she murmured, squinting as though she didn't recognize him. And then her expression changed, fluidly morphing into an expression of complete calm. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were waiting for me."

"No, we weren't waiting for you, darling," the Consort's smile grew warmer, more genuine. "We've been worried. Raw here says that you've been crying all morning—"

Her eyes focused on the Viewer, considering. "Raw. Of course. DG's friend."

Raw and Ahamo exchanged a look, but Az continued, opening the door a bit more. "I didn't mean to concern you. I — was looking for something I'd lost in my room, and hurt myself when checking under the bed. That's all. I'm so sorry I worried you."

Both men visibly relaxed. "Well then," Ahamo replied, "I guess I should go and get you something special for breakfast, now that you're feeling better?"

A bit of a twinkle appeared in her eyes. "That sounds wonderful, Daddy. Thank you."

Spirits lifting, her father started down the hall, making a swift beeline for the kitchens and hoping that the cooks had all of the ingredients necessary for blueberry waffles.

Raw lingered a moment more, catching the Princess's gaze and carefully expanding his senses. "Feeling better now? Raw can heal bruises for Azkadellia."

Her eyes flashed, darkening to a point which gave him a chill, for in that moment she looked exactly as she had while the Witch controlled her. But then the shadows vanished, leaving her face oddly blank.

"No… that won't be necessary. I'm sure you have other duties today, Raw. Thank you." The door clicked firmly shut, and the internal lock followed suit. He heard nothing more after that, though his ears strained for any sound. She may have been waiting for him to leave before doing anything else, whether crying or 'looking for something.' He didn't know, and didn't believe the story she'd told Ahamo.

Though he couldn't put his finger on the source of the problem, of one thing Raw was completely certain — since her liberation from the Witch, Azkadellia had never before responded to him with such ice in her tone.

The Viewer may become a problem.

The beasts're empaths, not telepaths. Keep yer emotions in check and he won't suspect a thing!

What are you suggesting? I am in perfect control of my senses.

-Perhaps so, but even we cannot completely suppress the Sorceress's own emotions.-

Thought we're workin' on that?

-Easier said than done, my impatient friend.-

Remember, there are others among us who don't… share in our designs.

Yeah, but since we've banded together he ain't been able to make a peep or show 'is face.

Oh, do let's remind ourselves of what we can no longer physically perform. 'Show his face,' indeed.

-You're being a touch sensitive about all of this, my dear.-

Sensitive? Oh, that's a fine thing to say. Who was the one who first discovered how to gain control over the Sorceress herself?

-Truth be told, you couldn't have done it without help. You—-

Er, hate t'be rude and interrupt, but she's listening to this.

She forced her body to move, sluggish and slow, to the mirror. Azkadellia felt the change, the shift in consciousness with greater clarity the more it happened. And since the incident last night… well, it had shaken her so badly that they had easily wrenched control away from her.

The first thought had been to fight back, shove them back into the darkness whence they came, but now they worked in concert — some of them, at least — to shove her broken self into the background, allowing them the complete freedom to roam about in her skin. She wanted to grind her teeth, stamp her feet, anything that would indicate her own feelings… how dare they even speak to my father! But they only laughed and smothered her even further as they planned their mysterious designs.

But they were distracted now, and she carefully let herself sit back, compliant but observant, rising out of the void to look for any signs that might serve as telltales for others to notice. Surely Raw had seen, had understood that the voice used was hers, but the words were not… they were clever, oh so clever, far too clever to live… or so the Witch had thought. That's why they'd been destroyed.

But was 'destroyed' the right word for this?

-…What about her magic?-

What about it?

-Can we use it through her, as the vessel?-

Don'ts we need the knowhow or somethin'?

-She already has it, doesn't she? We just have to… extract the information from her mind.-

It's worth a try… let me do it! I want to have the honor!

Yer enjoying this a bit too much, ain'tcha?

-Quiet. Let her have her fun. There's no real harm in it so long as she is careful. We don't want to unduly damage our hostess, now do we?-

Y'know, it's really kinda weird bein' inside a girl an' all…

Silence, both of you! I need to concentrate…

One of the forces rose up inside her, bubbling forth like liquid magma as it burned trails through her thoughts; the sensation of river leeches slithering across bare skin, spreading their sharp toxins to numb the nerves and penetrate the pores paralyzed Azkadellia almost completely. She had enough reserve strength to dig her fingernails into the arms of her vanity chair, using that pain as a focus to keep herself centered and aware.

As she watched, the surface of the mirror in front of her began to ripple like the waves of Finaqua's lakes, and she almost breathed a plea to Glinda for deliverance from this evil, but hadn't the strength to speak. Her own image, through the machinations of this internal force, faded completely away, revealing a distant vista half the realm away.

The image began roaming, whispering sounds of grass and trees rustling in the wind only just audible, shifting and twitching between views too fast… too rapidly… and soon the focus halted, but the staggering halt was too much to bear — Azkadellia's gag reflex kicked in, and she retched violently over her knees, hot tears stinging her eyes.

As if startled, the forces within her weakened, became murmurs, and grew silent. Perhaps the sensation of their brute-force magic attempts had stunned them, as well. If nothing else, it gave Azkadellia a moment to collect herself, replay the vision in her mind, searching desperately for any answers.

What — or who — were they looking for?

Thwack. Slash-thunk. Thwack.

"Um, DG, I don't think that hitting the trees is any good for the blade."

"Mmmmf." Slash. Ker-thwip. Thunk.

Glitch gave up, no more pleased than she that although they'd escaped the snow of the mountains, the pouring rains of the Gil'kin forest only drowned any cheer their spirits had hoped for. At least here the trees didn't move or throw things at the unwary, but their thin foliage did little to shield them from the downpour.

Looking ahead, Glitch could barely see Cain's silhouette leading the way, steadfast and so stupidly stubborn to make them continue tramping through the muck on the poor horses. Toto's little dog nose poked out from a small carrier behind Cain's left knee from time to time, but his perch remained limited from being strapped to the side of a horse. Dorothy herself only knew why Cain had allowed the shapeshifter to settle there, but Glitch figured it had something to do with trusting the tutor again. Even after all their battles together, even DG had found difficulty in forgiving the betrayal.

Attention returning to their weather-based misery, the advisor scowled at the clouds, easily visible through the treetops. The forest held no real shelter from the elements; they'd end up either sitting under the trees and getting drenched, or moving toward a place possible hours away where they might find respite. Glitch's knowledge of OZian geography remained bare bones at best, but he did recall (with immense amounts of reminding from Toto at mealtime) that just south of the forest sat the Abandoned Railway. From there lay only a half-day's ride to Lake Chorge and the Royal Tomb, nestled at the base of the Madeleines Range.

DG continued to swat at passing trees with her weapon, drawing another sigh from her bemused swordmaster. "How's the Emerald?" he asked, inclining his head towards her largest saddlebag. She glanced down at it, momentarily halting the assault to consider, and finally decided to sheathe the foil; Glitch didn't bother to hide his relief.

The youngest princess had found trouble in trying to handle the gem without gloves; like her mother, it had tried to burn her bare hands with its sputtering energy. Even more potentially dangerous were the unpredictable flashes of light it emitted, more than enough to signal their location to any stray Long Coat renegades, predators, or other undesirables. And so, after a long evening session with Toto about how to disguise the Emerald from spying or prying eyes, she'd spelled the saddlebag to mask its magic. Anyone not DG herself who looked inside or even rummaged around in the bag would see nothing but raw foodstuffs, and Glitch felt his eyes unfocus from the stash and begin to wander despite himself towards the left — another nifty side effect of the spell — as she pulled on a glove and stuck her hand inside.

A moment of grunting, and she gingerly lifted the tiny thing between two fingers from the bag, ready to drop it once more if it started to act funny.

"It seems calmer," she noted, bringing it closer. Glitch leaned in, too, still curious about how such a tiny thing started so many wars in the O.Z. and nearly tore the Royal House of Gale to shreds.

DG frowned at it, brushing a damp tendril of hair from where it had blown onto her forehead. Blue eyes dimming, she seemed to drift away from the "here and now," her attention wandering miles, if not worlds, into the distance. Her head cocked, as if listening to an inaudible conversation, and then the moment snapped, consternation sparking in her features.

"It used to whisper things. Things that could help me, visions of myself in the future," she explained after a moment, realizing that Glitch still stared at her. "But now it's like… I dunno. A scattered cacophony, maybe? It's like the speakers keep shorting on a song, so sometimes it jumps back on and you hear the screaming of the guitars and the singing, but then sudden silence. I don't get it."

"Well, one thing's for sure, I don't want to know what kind of music you listened to back on the Other Side," he commented dryly, bringing his horse closer so he could see. "What about its power? Can you feel or channel any of it?"

Her head shook slightly. "No. Sometimes there's a flash of energy, like when it goes firecracker on us, but other times nothing." Pause. "I wonder if it's dying?"

A part of Glitch's heart froze at that thought. "DG—"

Before he could finish, her horse chose that moment to trip over a loose root, slipping in the muddy earth beneath — DG barely stifled a shriek as the emerald slipped between her fingers, out of the glove, past the saddlebag and somewhere into the tramped-on grass.

"Crap!" DG tugged the reins as hard as she could to halt her horse, but the poor gentle paint jerked with surprise, rearing instead and sending its rider tumbling off its rump.

Glitch reacted blindly, shouting at Cain to stop as he leaped off his own mount to help.

"Princess!" Luckily, the horses had moved out of the way, averting any danger of stomping on fallen riders. Glitch knelt down next to DG, visibly checking for broken bones. "Are you okay?"

"Unless you're talking about the countless bruises to my butt and my pride, I'm fine, Glitch. God, I'll never be able to sit down again...! Owww..."

He sighed in relief, glancing up when he heard yapping barks from up ahead. With Cain close behind, Toto scampered through the grass and trees, wet fur sticking to his tiny body and reminding Glitch of a wet rat. The smell wasn't much better, too, and he sneezed delicately, earning a growl from the shapeshifter.

"What happened?" Cain demanded, promptly holding out a hand to hoist DG back to her feet. Still off-balance, Glitch watched her stumble and trip into the Tin Man's arms, feeling a flash of something skitter across the back of his mind. Probably concern, or maybe even humor, considering that though Cain caught her easily, his beloved coat was now covered in wet forest goop. Yup, that had to be it. Goopy coats meant lots of incredibly funny teasing later, even if the one picked on carried a pistol.

"DG?" Cain asked again, this time more gently. "What happened?"

"I fell, okay?" she mumbled, her head lowered in shame. "I was talking to Glitch, and then I — WAIT! The Emerald!" she gasped, pulling away from Cain and starting to rummage around on the ground. "I dropped it somewhere! We have to find it!"

"You dropped —" Cain began, and stared an inferno at Glitch. The advisor held his hands up in a "no way, not me!" gesture, turning his attention deliberately to helping his Princess find her pretty — and dangerously powerful — bauble. He heard the Tin Man curse under his breath and drop to the ground to help, his knees sinking at least an inch into the mud with the rest of them.

DG would have gladly laughed at the party's state of dishevelment, if she hadn't been so relieved to finally find the Emerald of the Eclipse. She could start a whole new line of fashion in just shades of brown, cheaply made with eco-friendly, biodegradable materials from their very own Gil'kin forest! They could bring tons of money back into the economy, thanks to the crazy "Other Side" fashions of the youngest princess!

Somehow, DG doubted her mother would be pleased by the prospect. Imagining the look on her face made up for it, though.

Anyway, Toto had been the one to locate where the Emerald had rolled next to a pile of stones, all of the mud and dust and pieces of grass masking it from all but the most discerning view. She'd have to ask him later whether he actually saw it or just smelled it; the latter seemed much more likely. Her hand, wrapped in a piece of cloth torn from someone's filthy raincloak, clasped the gem tightly, more than afraid to lose it again. It hummed slightly within its confines, but no power or light leaked through the fabric.

The rain had slowed, a second small blessing, but DG's horse had apparently tried to flee the scene after throwing her off, and Cain had gone to find it as soon as their search had ended. She and Glitch sat huddled beneath the largest tree along the path, Toto curled up and shivering in between them.

"Cain's been gone a while," she muttered, eyeing the empty path with a shiver. "I didn't think old Misty wandered that far."

"Who knows? I never understood horses, myself," Glitch admitted. "Made me jittery even before my little operation."

"Yeah, I could see that. I'm a bit jealous of the fact that Cain can handle them so easily."

"Hmm. I guess it comes from being a Tin Man."

"You think so? I didn't see many horses in the City."

"Well — yeah, that's true too. His childhood, then? He did live close to the East, where there aren't really many roads."

"Mm. Could be. But he only lived there after he got married, right? I wonder where he grew up." She paused. Glitch gave her a sidelong glance, a smirk tugging his lips upward.

"Why all the curiosity about the Tin Man all of a sudden?"

"Huh?"

He jabbed her in the side with his elbow. "Come on, doll! You've never asked so many questions about him before! Why so curious?"

"I just —" a snapped twig broke the tension, and three pairs of eyes shot towards where Cain had disappeared, expecting to see the Tin Man emerge with the wandering horse in tow. But no one appeared.

"What was that?" Glitch muttered aloud, instinctively placing himself in front of DG, the trees at their back. A whisper of fear tricked down his spine, though whether his or hers he couldn't determine.

"Glitch?"

"Shh. Toto, stay near her. DG, power up your magic, just in case." A growl and a wash of warmth from the princess's light responded, and Glitch gracefully rose to his feet, one hand on the hilt of the sword at his side.

"Cain?" he called, eyes narrowed. "That's not funny. Did you find the horse?"

No response.

"Cain?"

Hoots similar to an owl's echoed around them, and more twigs crunched nearby. "Quiet now your noisy cries — I've found myself a trio of spies!"

"What the—" the voice, seemingly from nowhere, vanished as quickly as it had risen, but something sharp collided with Glitch's temple, knocking him into unconsciousness before he could locate the source. The last thing he heard — aside from his cursing Wyatt Cain — was DG's surprised yelp.

Author's Notes: At long last, chapter ten! I've finally hit my stride again in the last few days, after a lot of false starts and frustration. Because the last section was so short, I was determined to give you all a much longer installment this time around.

Also, I wanted to thank you all for the support and patience you've offered; slowly but surely my routine is stabilizing with my husband away. I look forward to coming home from work and taking the opportunity to write; it gives me some much-needed sanity, and I look at the quiet house now as a writing haven rather than an empty place.

For some reason, Glitch really wanted the spotlight when I wrote this, so I gladly gave it to him. I didn't want to write a whole lot with Az just yet, but more will come soon. If anyone happens to get the science-fiction reference I'm obliquely making with her 'situation,' I'll give you a cookie =)

In case you were wondering, I've been gleaning my geography from a combination of the original Oz maps, notes/visuals from the Tin Man series, and the maps from Wicked... with my own twists, of course.

Next chapter: How will DG handle the ambush on her travel party? What do the forces warring inside Azkadellia plan to do with her magical abilities?