ALICE II
the untold sequel
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Chapter Eleven
Slaves
"Solitary Conversion Particles" Hatter confirmed in that quiet voice Alice never quite knew what to make of. It bothered her to no end, not being able to work out something about him. She had always prided herself on shrewdness and quick wit, yet at times he made her feel slower than Abaddon himself.
Alice remembered and needed no reminding this time, though. Solitary Conversion Particles. Something small and jumpy at the back of her mind began to wriggle. A map, but no – it wasn't a map. It was on the back of the map, it was a-
"I see you must have found our shopping list. How extraordinary," the Tweedles' had heard Hatter despite the volume, and his voice did seem to reflect his astonishment. It held a far way quality, not dissimilar to that of Hatter's. What it exactly meant, though, was the unmoving conundrum to Alice.
"What are these Particles?" Gibson asked, still suspicious, though Alice could not blame him. If he felt the same way whenever those mystical twins spoke – like she was drowning in the middle of a dry, burn out country – he had every right to be wary; just as she was.
"They are located right-" at this point all five of the small party felt a cool breeze press against their foreheads, then painfully push its way through their skin to lap over their brains "-here." A collective painful yelp was sounded at the unexpected sensation by all. There it was, the breeze and freezing cold wind of the night, pushing and manipulating against them, feeling the outer-skirts of their brains. An uneasiness settled into the pits of their stomachs.
"S.P.C is what we need most at the moment, and it crowds around your little heads, or rather, inside your little heads as if there were a garden party in progress," the softer of the Tweedles giggled.
"What good is it to you?" Alice questioned coldly.
There was a short pause. "It feeds our most valuable treasure," the Tweedles spoke in unison, as they did when the answer was rehearsed or obvious, Alice had guessed.
"Which is?" She prompted.
"Too much talking, not enough abstracting," a very close voice suddenly sounded behind her ear. Now, she could feel the warm breath of air and a solid, warm presence.
She spun around to find a very, very, very tall man, and then another, almost identical if not for their differently colored bowler hats. Each dressed bizarre, or at least, stranger than the usual chaos most Wonderlanders adorned themselves with. It was a cross between a suit and a clown's ruffle, a medieval gown and jester's costume, a cape and a mushroom. There faces were the only thing that was bland, like a child had taken a pencil and drawn two dots, a vertical line, and then a horizontal line. Alice, again, felt horrible disorientated. It seemed to be the common emotion that was associated with the twins.
"Perhaps we could come to a bargain," Alice managed to choke out.
"Why ever would we do that? You already have what we want most."
Alice considered, trying to appear calm and rational while internally her mind raced with ideas, escape routes and a strange mix of martial arts and tap-dancing. Wonderland, apparently, was taking its toll.
"How could you know? We may have something even more desirable than S.P.C," Hatter chimed in, anxious to keep talking and not start extracting. The very idea of it made his toes curl, quiver and tap.
"Like what?" The voices nearly laughed at the absurdity of the idea.
Another pause came around, though this was by all means far lengthier. "How about the Queen of Wonderland?" Abaddon asked off-handedly, as if offering a spot of herbal tea. Hatter, at least, found the resemblance gratifying. His stomach growled.
"I assume you mean the girl, then," said the Tweedle in the red bowler, his head inclined only slightly to Alice.
Alice could do nothing; only stare back at the two men helplessly.
"We give you her in exchange for our freedom," Abaddon explained, his expression still meticulously off-hand. He only flinched slightly at Hatter's uproar to his left.
"Give them Alice? Give them Alice? Give them Alice?!" His hands up in the air may have knocked his hat off, yet by some strange anti-gravity law that applied exclusively to Hatter himself, it remained perched perfectly on his head.
"Would you except?" Abaddon ignored Hatter beside him as best he could while he stared down the two twins. His stare had little impact, though, as the over-sized people only regarded him back humorously, like a parent would watch a misbehaving toddler.
After a lengthy pause that seemed to multiply for all, the yellow bowler Tweedle spoke. "A Queen's S.P.C is no different to a commoner's. The more of you we have, the better. You are a fool, young soldier. We have no mercy, as you will soon be well aware."
And like that, they were on them, except they hadn't moved. The Tweedles stood in front of them, arms moving swiftly about as if conducting an orchestra; a dark, life-threatening orchestra. Dark shadows of men swooped down from beneath the yellowed grasses and gripped them by the neck, cold sensations gripping all as the shadow's grip tightened on their skin. The Tweedles' mouths began to move rapidly, yet the voices hung above their ears, rasping promises of pain and mutilation. The voices sped up, and the words began to slur into one constant note of certain death, destruction, failure.
"We can give you more than energy for the heart," a voice from among the five rasped out, managing to struggle against the life-threatening pull for only a moment. Still, the moment was long enough. Alice craned her neck against the thick shadow's limb and was surprised to see Kip, his mouth still half-open from uttering the last word. Immediately, the arms around their necks simultaneously slackened.
The Tweedles said nothing, yet the curiosity in their beady eyes was evident. Curiosity, it now occurred to Alice, was the common downfall of all those in Wonderland. Including herself. She filed this away carefully next to the Hatter's quiet, musical voice and her numerous other non-tangible possessions.
"We were on our way there," Kip was still breathless, his words coming through a series of sharp pants. "We-we saw it on the map. Why ever you're feeding it we don't know, but we may be able to help."
The Tweedles didn't even glance at each other, but still, Alice had the niggling feeling they were debating heatedly between themselves. A pair of eyes would sharpen, the others would plead, and the wind around them would pick up then slow. To be honest, it was their strange power over the evening wind that frightened her most. Man was dangerous, true; but nature held undiscovered strength and vivacity that could knock carefully built civilizations off their feet.
"Perhaps you should share what the aim of this little expedition is," the Tweedle with the yellow bowler stated easily, lazily. While red-hatted Tweedle was by all means the more imposing and dogmatic of the two, it was yellow-hatted Alice realized she must watch out for. He held a shrewd eye and almost charismatic confidence that left him with the upper hand. Alice wondered if he saw many things surrounding them that others would have disregarded without so much as a moments thought.
She was startled to find that all eyes had turned on her, waiting for an answer.
Torn between telling the truth or out-right lying, she settled for a happy-medium; enough truth to gain their trust, and enough falsehood to save themselves should they be betrayed.
"Wonderland is in danger, we believe whatever or whoever it is your feeding may provide some sort of direction." There, simple enough without too many fabrications. Evasiveness was the key, without appearing so.
"In danger from what? Wonderland can hold its own. I can hold my own." The Tweedle with the red-bowler furrowed his brow expectantly. His fists clenched happily and Alice imagined him imaging himself knocking the danger out dry. If only it were that simple.
"We know that the danger is real, and very, very close. Nothing like it has been seen before," Hatter supplied, his eyes searching around as if trying to be the first to spot it.
Another silent argument between the two Tweedles ensued, and the wind around them picked up horribly. Alice was sure she had lost at least two of her toes when they finally ceased their internal bickering and faced the small group.
"We agree to go with you, and you will live for now-" here all involved in the would-be-slaughter let out their breath happily, no matter the implications, "-yet you will accompany us for the rest of the journey as our slaves."
"What?!" Abaddon let out an outraged gasp, his face the same red as Gibson's often is.
"This is non-negotiable. Unless, of course, you would like to proceed with the former course of action…" The yellow-hatted Tweedle smiled slightly at the thought.
Abaddon seemed to seriously consider the option.
"Let's get on with it then, shall we?" Kip gritted out through clenched teeth. "Time is getting ahead of us."
"She's a good four miles up the road, I'd wager," Hatter chirped in, the new situation not seeming to bother him at all. He was that kind of man, Alice thought; the kind that would be happy with anything, as long as the air was still passing through his lungs.
"What is that?" A Tweedle poked reproachfully at the large, covered lump that sat perched on the back of the nearest wagon. Alice didn't remember how he had traveled there so fast, and wasn't in the mood to question it. Not now.
"Cat," said Gibson, one hand waving theatrically in the air to demonstrate the meaning of the small, furry mammal.
"You brought a cat?" The red-hatted Tweedle questioned incredulously. Now that they were officially their slaves, the Tweedles seemed to be far more willing to talk. Alice wondered if they were truly that bad as they made themselves out to be. Surely some human instinct survived under that mass of hatred and bloodshed.
"Can I kill it?" Red hat spoke abruptly, eyeing the lump hungrily.
Apparently not.
"No!" All five cried out in unison, creating the same eerie effect that the two Tweedles had whenever they spoke together.
"It's not any cat, its The Cat," Kip even managed to create invisible capital letters with his voice. It was a skill Alice made a note of to develop within herself later.
Capital letters installed, the meaning behind the statement and creature combined made the Tweedles 'oh' together, understanding.
If that darn cat ever woke up, Alice promised herself, she would be sure to ask it what it had done to ever receive the respect of the notorious Tweedles, and everyone else for that manner. Wherever she went, she only seemed to make more and more enemies; an annoying habit, at best.
Alice was interrupted in her thoughts by witnessing one of the strangest things.
The two Tweedles, stepping away from the group had vanished further into the wide paddock, the long, yellow grasses reaching mid-thigh around them. They were waving their hands about in the dark, randomly and indecisively at first, till a pattern emerged, and their movements became more planned, more reverential.
The grasses below them began to bend farther down from the harsher winds, yet no strong currents reached the small band. Instead, it concentrated purely on circling the two brothers, their hands picking up speed and momentum as the wind around them swirled to create a mini tornado, with them standing straight in the centre of it.
The sky above the Tweedles darkened noticeably, adorned with streaks of dark purple and flushes of crimson red. It was a terrifyingly beautiful picture, and Alice felt a strong stab in her stomach as it reminded her of the night she had lay next to Hatter on pebbly ground, watching the stars above them not dissimilar to this spectacle now.
Their hands were moving so fast now their hands blurred, and Alice jumped when she felt two warm hands tighten on her own shoulders. She didn't turn, though. She could already feel his hot breath on her neck.
"What's happening?" Was all she could ask.
Hatter was silent for a few moments, then his warm breath came out in torrents as he answered her, his chin hovering above her ear.
"They are thanking the Knight Wind, as they always do."
"The Knight Wind?" She whispered, feeling very much like a parrot.
Hatter tapped his fingers on her shoulders for a few beats, as if lost in some internal tune she could neither hear nor comprehend. "The Tweedles took everything from the Knights; this land, these stars, this air, even their lives. They took it when it had been home to the Knights for thousands of years. They reduced the race to all that they can be now; spirits driving in the winds, hanging in the breeze. This is their daily apology. Their daily repentance. They do this every night."
"But why? If they took it from them in the first place…" Alice trailed off, because his grip on her shoulders had slackened, as if disappointed with her answer, or lack of understanding. She couldn't help but feel hurt.
Hatter sighed, and it tickled her neck. He sighed like an old man; heavy and hard and long, not sighing in pain or fury or disbelief, but in resignation and defeat, knowing he is too old to change things now. His chance has come and gone. His sigh held so much, it was hard for Alice to even comprehend.
"Many people do things they regret," was his answer.
"Do you?" The question had come out before Alice could stop herself, and while the sky and the wind continued their display she felt him step away from her slightly, and she feared his answer.
"Of course."
Alice sighed to herself and Hatter thought it sounded very much like the sigh of an old woman, and he felt hope for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. They were all slaves to something.
Or someone.
What do you think?
Any theories?
You all know how much I love theories…
tell me, children, tell me
Thank-you to the following amazing people for their kind words and support (I feel like I'm saying goodbye. Weird. The story isn't over yet! I swear!)
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