AN: I don't own Tin Man. I'm just borrowing the characters for my own twisted ends. :D
Recommended Listening: "The Moribund Tree and the Toad" and "Ofelia" from the Pan's Labyrinth soundtrack
Finaqua lay largely untouched by the harsh winter blizzard that had blanketed much of the northern half of the O.Z. with snow. The temperature was decidedly chilly, however, buffeted with periodic bursts of icy winds that howled through the trees, concentrated by the narrow gaps. The non-evergreen trees had lost their leaves long ago, vaguely improving visibility in the difficult to traverse groves.
Az followed a discreet distance from the scouts deployed from the Second Rider group, overseeing their progress as they covered the forest for the main body of the group. The trainees had been assigned the night before, when the party reached Finaqua proper. Trainees went to First Rider Group, led by Jeb and Dunstan, or the Second Rider Group, led by Jem and Micah. Bo and Sula had been assigned to First, Windy and Anka to Second. If all went well during the exercises, those appointments would become permanent.
The trainers had decided long ago that the field exercises would be modeled after what would be a typical Rider mission. If they made the exercises as realistic as possible, it would be easier to evaluate how the trainees would react in a real world situation. With that in mind, Az, Jeb, and Jem had rudely woken the trainees at an ungodly hour of the morning, informing them of two separate bandit raids carried out on different villages. The villages had been ransacked and burned, leaving many villagers dead or homeless. The mission was to track the bandits to their hideouts, capture as many of them as possible, and bring them back to headquarters for trial.
The two Rider groups were now scouring the forest for the "bandit camps," which was where Cain and Sixth came into the picture. The former Tin Man had divided the company in half – one half was divided into the two bandit groups that the trainees had to capture, while the other half were patrolling the forest perimeter to ensure that there would be no outside interference during the exercises, guaranteeing each participant's safety. Az personally thought that the last measure was overkill, but she knew better than to protest her parents' orders. Besides, their presence was almost soothing, as she'd been nothing but prickly and on edge since she'd entered the forest.
Part of her wished that DG was with her, but DG had decided to stick with Wyatt for the duration of the exercises. Az could only wonder what that new development meant, since by all appearances she'd been annoyed with the former Tin Man since they left the Northern Palace. Whatever the case, this meant that where Wyatt went, so too did DG, and Wyatt was busy keeping track of the "bandit" groups and checking on the forest patrols. He was the one making sure that no one was interfering with anyone else's job. The last time Az had seen them was during the midday meal before they went off to check in with the nearest patrol units.
Up ahead, Anka and Summersong stopped abruptly on the deer track they'd been following. Az and Freeheart stopped too, and even though they were only yards away from the girl and her horse, Az knew they wouldn't be seen. She'd cloaked them to disappear into the forest background so that she could observe the trainees without them seeing her.
Anka dismounted and peered at the ground. Summersong whickered softly. "I know, girl," Anka murmured, her left hand coming up to touch the mare's head. She picked up a fallen branch and began poking it into the ground. Soon there was a slight crackling noise as bracken and leaves collapsed into a hole in the ground lined with sharpened stakes – a horse trap. "Got you," Anka said grimly before reaching gingerly into the hole and pulling up stakes. Once she had them all, she tied them in a bundle and added them to her packs, as they would probably come in handy later as either weapons or kindling. Then she set about filling the trap. Summersong helped too, nudging bracken and other things into the hole with her nose. All of this was done as quietly as possible.
Az smiled as she made note of this incident. Very good, Anka, she thought.
This was not the first time that she'd been impressed with the trainees in the Second Rider Group. They responded well to Jem's quiet but firm leadership and were making good time tracking the "bandits'" trail. However, the main group was not her concern right now, for Jem had asked her to evaluate the scouts' performance. Even though she was forced to be objective, she thought that Jem had done a good job by choosing Windy and Anka to perform this duty. The two teenagers showed excellent scouting ability, staying silent and alert, reporting promptly to their commander when they found additional tracks, enemy patrols, and enemy booby traps like the one Anka had just disassembled. With their reports the Second Rider Group managed to avoid any encounters, though there were several close calls.
A few hours later, another set of scouts discovered the "bandit" camp and reported their location to Jem. With the first hurdle passed, the Rider group settled down for the night in the forest, planning a raid at dawn to retrieve their quarry. Az and Jem discussed the trainees' performance at their own fire, slightly removed from the main campsite. Glitch's noodle packets were put to good use, as a pot of the stuff simmered at every campfire, supplemented by whatever manner of creature the trainees had been able to hunt down.
Jem stared broodingly into the fire, his mood soured by the argument he'd had with Micah earlier in the day.
"I won't work with her." The redhead had cornered him during a quiet moment when the scouts were changing shifts.
"I'm not asking you to," Jem replied mildly. "The Horsemistress is here to evaluate, not lead. She'll not get in the way."
She snorted. "Right, with that magic of hers that makes her disappear right into the forest." She brushed a leaf from her cloak. "It's unnatural. I don't like the thought of it, Jem. It puts me on edge every time she uses that magic." Even though the O.Z. was a land steeped in magic, since the time of the Ancients the ability of its citizens to use it had dwindled. Now the Gales were the only ones left who had enough power to practice it, and most O.Z. citizens could only remember it being wielded with deadly results by the witch. It was no wonder that they would be extremely wary whenever the subject of magic came up.
"The Horsemistress would never use her power that way, Micah," he said wearily. It was an old argument, one they rehashed again and again.
"What way is that, Jem? The way she's been using it for the past fifteen annuals?" Her voice dripped with derision.
"That's unfair, Micah."
The redhead folded her arms. "Enlighten me, Jem Switzer. How am I unfair?"
"The Riders stand for justice and honor. We are bound to stand and protect the O.Z. and her people," he reminded her. "She believes that as much as we do, or she wouldn't be here, working as hard as any of us."
Micah's green-gold eyes flickered briefly, but she refused to back down. She hated being in the wrong, and it hurt her pride to admit it. It was so much easier to fight back. It was what made her an excellent Resistance fighter, but a poor people person. "Still, I'll not apologize for what I think" she said, her chin set stubbornly. "I refuse to believe that any good can come of her-"
Jem was in a bad enough mood as it was, and he was damn tired of Micah's continued, overwhelming hatred towards Azkadellia. If there was one thing that was keeping the Riders from being a cohesive unit, it was this very issue. " She is your princess, Micah, and your future queen. The Riders also have a duty to the House of Gale, don't you forget that."
She gritted her teeth. "Don't make me laugh, Jem Switzer. Are you truly defending her? Have you forgotten everything that she's done?"
"Have you forgotten, Micah, that it was the sorceress, and not the princess, who was guilty of those crimes? Why do you continue to pursue this?" He pushed a branch out of his face with irritation.
Her eyes turned as icy cold as green glass. "You know my reasons for hating her, Jem Switzer. You know what she's done to me and mine, and you know that I'll go on wishing her to hell until she's finally there, twisting in flames. The princess and the sorceress are one, and you would do well to remember that."
He paused slightly. "I'm sorry you believe that, Micah, that you're so buried in your hate that you cannot see the truth." He'd learned long ago that it was no use to spend so much energy on hatred. It had never driven him, even when he was in the Resistance. He fought because he believed that the O.Z. that was, could be again. Yes, he had been wary of Azkadellia, but he remembered, vaguely, how the O.Z. had loved the heir presumptive. Her beauty, intelligence, and bearing had been lauded, and everyone said how the blood of Dorothy Gale ran true in her.
He'd seen glimpses of that princess again, once she'd returned from the desert. From then on, it had become harder and harder to hang on to any belief that she was the sorceress. It was maddening that Micah's stubbornness – a trait he loved in her, among many others – could put them on opposite ends of the spectrum.
The blatant sadness and disappointment in Jem's voice both shamed and infuriated Micah. She had never been one to care very much of what others thought of her – except for Jem. He was usually her staunchest ally, but a rift had grown between them and she blamed Azkadellia wholeheartedly, refusing to see that maybe part of the problem lay within her. "Has she got you blinded as well, Jem?" she demanded, wanting to lash out and make him hurt as she did, though she would never admit to the ache in her gut. "Bewitched? Will I see you and Jeb wearing leather coats next?"
Jem could listen no more. He turned on her and Micah shrank back, seeing how black his eyes had gone. "You will say no more, Micah, not to me. Watch your words and actions carefully, for I'll not have that lip, not from my second in command." His voice was low and controlled, more terrifying than any shouted words. He stalked off into the forest, leaving Micah to lean against a tree, completely shaken.
Azkadellia's tentative touch to his arm shook him out of his reverie. "You look tired, Lieutenant," she said kindly. "We have a long day tomorrow. You should rest. I think we're finished here."
He shook his head, idly wishing for a strong pot of tea. "I can't. I have to make sure the sentries are doing their jobs properly throughout the night." And perhaps he could get his mind off the mess that was his personal life.
She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Did you think I would let you do that alone? We'll switch off, Lieutenant. You should sleep now, and I'll make sure this shift is all right. I'll wake you when second shift is halfway over, so that you have some rest."
He protested. "I cannot ask you to do that, Horsemistress-"
"And yet I will do it, and you cannot stop me," she interrupted. "Go to sleep, Lieutenant. Don't make me pull rank as your princess. You know that I am here to test the trainees as well, and that I will do my duty."
"I do know that," he admitted. "Very well. But make sure that you wake me halfway through the second shift."
"Of course, of course. Now, shoo!" Az pushed him, very lightly, in the direction of his tent. He shot her a grin and complied, not noticing the confused and jealous green gaze that watched them from across the camp.
"Did you see that? That was amazing!"
"Like when you pinned that bandit to the tree using your knives?"
"Or when you practically mowed down that group of five? They scattered like pigeons!"
Az smiled indulgently as Windy and Anka pranced their horses around her and Freeheart, their young faces flushed with victory and their voices bright with glee. Cloudchaser and Summersong shared in their riders' happiness, shaking their manes and lifting their tails. Freeheart let out a slightly derisive snort and flicked an ear back and forth.
Az considered the exercises a success. Thanks to Jem's meticulous planning (with much input from his group of trainees), the bandits had been rounded up rather tidily, without too many mishaps. A few overenthusiastic trainees had sustained some cuts and bruises, for some of the "bandits" had been forced to put up a fight. The new and friendly rivalry that had sprung up between the Riders and Royal Army was a definite reason for the rougher horseplay, but no one had gotten seriously hurt. The two groups were currently exchanging some good-natured ribbing as they marched back to Finaqua proper, with the "bandits" being guarded by their captors.
Az had kept to her position of observer throughout the entire exercise, carefully evaluating each trainee's performance. Jem, of course, would have made his own observations, but as the commander of Second, he'd been obliged to be in the thick of things. They would compare notes soon enough.
"All right you two, scram." Jem's voice was gritty with fatigue but warm all the same.
"The Horsemistress and I have some rough evaluations to do."
"Aw, Jem, you can't tell us now?" Windy wheedled, his sapphire eyes dancing.
Anka rolled her eyes. "Come on, Windy, don't be such a nuisance!" She bared her teeth in a grin. "Don't make me twist your ear, don't think I won't!"
"I rue the day Sula taught her how to do that," the teenager confided to Azkadellia. Anka made a grab for his ear and he quickly moved Cloudchaser forward. "All right, all right, I'm going!"
"Where does he get the energy?" Jem grumbled as the two rode away.
Az chuckled. "Come now, Lieutenant, you know that you can run ragged and still be going in circles around him."
"Not for much longer, I won't," was the wry reply. "These bones are getting old and creaky."
That was a blatant lie if she'd ever heard it. Jem was only a few years her senior and built like a bull. "I do believe Dunstan would thrash you for that, seeing as he has quite a few years on you."
"Well, we'd best not tell him I said that, eh?"
Micah could hear the pair's every word, even though she rode a few horse lengths in front of them. The easy tone of their conversation stirred up emotions both familiar and foreign. Anger was her constant companion, so the heat of it was recognizable enough. She knew the jealousy that sat in the pit of her belly, even though it was new. But there was a bitterness at the back of her throat that was not so obvious. Had she been more in touch with her feelings for Jem, she would have seen it as the fear of loss.
Jem had always been her rock, ever since they'd been assigned to Jeb's cell in the Resistance. He was her friend and her companion, and one of the only reasons she'd remained sane after her loss during the witch's reign. She was loath to admit it, but she depended on him wholeheartedly as she depended on no one. That was why she could not accept the recent change in him. She could not see what he could see in Azkadellia, why he was so easy with her, as Jeb was. It had to be the work of magic, of that she was sure. Azkadellia was always the culprit, the reason for her unhappiness.
She couldn't stand it anymore. Micah barked out an order to Proudflame, who quickly put on a burst of speed to carry them to the front of the train.
Az glanced up from her notes. "And then there is Micah."
"Oh?" Jem's voice was carefully neutral. "What of her?"
"Please don't misunderstand, Lieutenant," she said hastily. "But Micah does have some issues she needs to work on before she can be called a proper Rider."
He snorted, though there was no humor behind it. "I'm not blind, Horsemistress. I know the lady's flaws well enough."
Az hesitated before she spoke. She knew she was crossing a line, but she felt that it had to be said. "And you still love her, despite or even because of them. You're very brave."
"Stupider than a member of the Eastern Guild, is more like it," he grumbled, acknowledging the truth of her words. "It's for naught, anyway. Let me guess, she forgets that she must work with the group."
Az nodded, accepting his silent plea to move on. She held much sympathy in her heart for the man. Love was already a complicated emotion. Love for a woman like Micah had to be much harder. "There were many times when she rushed into a situation on her own. I admit, she was able to fight her way out them each time, but there were other trainees she could have called upon to help her. It would have been more…efficient."
"Our Micah has never been one to work well with a team," Jem admitted. "Oh, she'll fight well enough when she has a cause, but I understand."
"She's your second, Lieutenant. She must remember that she is a leader, that she must be able to give direction to her riders. How can they learn to work together if they're not seeing that example with their leaders?"
Jem winced. It was as though Azkadellia knew something of the spat they'd had the previous day. "It's…difficult for Micah to put her trust in another person."
"I know how she feels."
Jem glanced at the princess, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. "Good. Why don't you tell her so when you provide her with the informal results of our evaluation?"
"What?" The shock was plain in her voice. "Lieutenant, she would never listen to me. You know how she feels about me. Won't this be better coming from you?"
"No." Especially after the events of the previous day. "Micah is your biggest obstacle within the Riders. Don't you think it's time to confront it, Horsemistress?"
"But-"
"Horsemistress, there are many people in the O.Z. like Micah. It is to your advantage to win her over, yes?"
She looked pained. "I don't want to." She would much rather perform a traditional Vedu dance at the next gala, complete with a belly-baring costume and bells on her hips and ankles. That was sure to get tongues wagging.
For the first time during the conversation, Jem's mood lightened. "Do I have to pull rank on you in this situation, Horsemistress?"
Az's expression would have made DG proud. It was all dole, woe, and long suffering. "No." Even though they were technically of the same influence within the Riders, she didn't have the authority to lead a Rider group of her own.
Jem suppressed a smile. "Well, I think that's all then. Shall we start pulling trainees aside?"
"I suppose so." The idea of delivering Micah's evaluation made Az feel slightly sick, on top of the uneasiness that hadn't abated after entering the forest. She could feel the cave's presence, resonating in her head like the sour note of a rusty bell. It didn't help that she felt as though something was out there, waiting for her to just let down her guard so that it could pounce.
But there was feedback to give out, so she pushed her worries to the back of her head.
"…so please keep that in mind in the future, Trainee Kerry."
"Yes, Horsemistress."
"Good. Carry on then." Az looked at her notes, and with a sinking heart, saw that only Micah was left on her list. She swallowed, then gritted her teeth and squared her shoulders. There was no reason that they couldn't do this like civil people. They were both strong women – surely there was some sort of common ground to be found?
Az rolled her eyes to the sky. That was about as likely as her mother serving one of Wonderland's infamous "teas" at teatime.
Freeheart trotted forward, as if he'd read her mind. Within moments, he'd caught up to the redhead at the head of the train. "Micah, I would like to have a word with you concerning your performance during the exercises," she said. There. That was neutral enough, and she'd done her a great courtesy by dropping the title of "trainee," trying to put them on equal footing.
Micah stared staunchly ahead. "I have no interest in your opinion of my performance, Horsemistress." She made her title sound like an insult.
Az took a deep breath. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but it is very important-"
"There is nothing you have to say that could possibly be important to me, witch." Micah enjoyed the way the princess cringed at her words. "Now, leave me alone."
She wasn't going to let those words get to her. She had promised herself that. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Lieutenant Switzer!" she called over her shoulder.
"Yes, Horsemistress?"
"I'm borrowing Micah for a moment." She glanced back at the woman beside her and Micah was almost taken aback by the determination in her eyes. "Proudflame, follow!" she snapped in Vedu, pushing Freeheart into a fierce gallop away from the group. If things were going to be difficult, she would rather handle them without any prying eyes. She ignored Micah's shouts and curses, knowing full well that Proudflame would follow Freeheart until they stopped.
They entered a small clearing. Az dismounted, muttering a quick spell under her breath. Micah took that opportunity to try and make a run for it, only for Proudflame to balk at the invisible barrier that had sprung up around them. Micah slid off his back and tried the barrier herself. As she did so, Az shrank it so that it encompassed only the two of them, leaving their horses outside.
"Let me go," she demanded. "I'll not be caged by your infernal magic."
Az had to give the woman a grudging amount of respect. Even though she was clearly frightened by the barrier, she was not giving way. "Not until we finish our conversation. I won't have you bolting away until I've had my say. I'm not going to harm you. You have my word."
"And what good is the word of a sorceress?"
"The word of a Gale." Az took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. She had an entire speech prepared, one on the merits of working together as a team. But when she opened her mouth, something else came out. "Why do you hate me so much? What have I ever done to you, personally?"
Micah stiffened. Green eyes blazed with fury.
"You killed my brother."
Az's eyes widened as she realized her question and Micah's response. She called herself ten times a fool for asking such a ridiculous question. Everyone in the Resistance had a personal grudge to bear against the witch. "I-"
"No, I'll be the one to talk." Micah strode forward until they were face to face. She was tall for a woman, dominating Az's height by a few inches. "Do you remember, Sorceress? Your precious Longcoats caught a small group of Resistance fighters near Illswater. Most of them managed to escape, except one. You tortured him for information for hours, feeding off his pain and enjoying it before you sucked his soul from his body."
Az remembered.
"Give me the names of your leaders," she asked sweetly, crossing behind the young man tied to the tree. "Maybe I'll even be nice and just toss you in the dungeon for a few years."
The prisoner didn't even bother to reply. His face was ashen and sweaty, his skin rubbed raw from where he strained against his bonds. He bled from numerous small cuts all over his body, cuts so small that he wasn't going to suffer from significant blood loss, but meticulously placed so that they caused the most pain.
She came around in front of him, the hem of her black skirt brushing over the forest floor. "Or maybe I'll take you as one of my own," she mused, admiring his youthful, handsome face. "You'd make a lovely addition to my forces. Tell me…can you be turned?" She trailed one long, sharp nail along the line of his throat.
Revulsion blossomed in his glassy, pain-filled gaze. "Never," he rasped, and spat on her cheek.
The sorceress held up a hand as the Longcoats advanced. "Leave," she ordered, her face creasing with displeasure. Her guards blanched at the emotionless quality to her voice. That tone meant that she had been pushed to the edge, and the consequences would be terrifying beyond belief.
She calmly wiped the spittle from her alabaster skin. "I see," she said silkily. "You want to play."
His screams pierced the night, and it was only at daybreak when, grumpy and information-less, she pulled his soul from his body.
His hair had been as red as the sunset, Az realized. Micah's brother. Oh, how the witch had exulted during that night. She'd enjoyed every little cut she'd laid into his skin, had drunk his screams like ambrosia. Oh yes, she remembered it all, and was as ashamed as if she'd been the one to end his life. It amounted to the same thing – the witch had used her body, her talent to kill him. His blood was on her hands. "I'm sorry," she croaked, realizing the futility of the words the moment they escaped her mouth.
"Too little, too late, Sorceress." Micah circled Azkadellia, her eyes as hard and pitiless as marbles. "Do you think that I can accept something so paltry as an apology from you? Do you think that I can forgive you for everything you've done, everything you're doing?"
"What have I done now?" It was beginning to get so, so cold. Hundreds of dead faces stared back at her, reflected in Micah's eyes. Az began to tremble.
"Bewitching," the redhead spat out. "I can understand Windy and Anka, as they're so impressionable that they'll follow the first one to pat their heads. But Jeb and Jem?" Her lips tightened at the lieutenant's name. "How did you do it? How did you turn them into your new lap mobats?"
Az shook her head numbly. The strength she'd had moments ago was beginning to melt away. "I haven't done anything. They're my friends."
"Friends? Witches don't have friends, Your Highness," Micah mocked, viciously enjoying this turn of events. "You'll do well to remember that, and to stay away from them. I'll not have you poisoning their minds further."
There was so much rage and pain and jealousy in her eyes that Az's heart hurt in response. "I'm sorry Micah, I cannot do that. They are my friends, even though you choose to deny it."
Micah had never hated anyone so much in her entire life. The woman in front of her had murdered her bother, ruined her country, stolen her friends, and still had the nerve to stand up to her. "You don't deserve them," she snarled.
That much was true. Windy's cheerful teasing, Anka's quiet admiration, Bo's brotherly affection, Sula's fierce attentiveness, and Jem's steadfast loyalty were gifts that she could have never hoped to receive. And Jeb…everything that Jeb had given her was beyond price. "I know. I am trying to be deserving of them."
"You never can." The years of pent-up emotion were beginning to boil over. "You lying, murdering bitch, there is nothing you can do to make up for what you've done!"
Az flinched. "I can only try."
That answer was so unbelievable that Micah could only laugh. "Oh, and how do you propose to do so, Sorceress?"
"Tell me," Az said tiredly. She was so weary of this battle. "What can I do to make amends for you, Micah?"
Micah's vision went hazy and red. "What can you do? An eye for an eye, Sorceress." She had Azkadellia pinned by the throat against the nearest tree before either of them could blink. Her rage deafened her judgment. All she could think of was the pain of her brother's death, the uncertainty of life in the Resistance, the humiliation of the Longcoats' torture, and the shattering of her heart when she saw the way Jem looked at the princess.
Az closed her eyes and tried to breathe. The nails digging into the tender skin of her neck were sharp. "Micah."
"That's it, Sorceress, beg. Beg me to spare your life like my brother begged you to spare his. Or try to use your magic against me, it will only prove what you really are."
The pressure was intense, but inside Azkadellia was calm. Had she somehow known that it would eventually come to this? That she could die for the sins that had been committed with her body, her magic? In her name? Perhaps she had. It was the only way to explain the numbness that settled over her heart.
Micah was confused by the lack of reaction. "Come on!" she shouted, tightening her grip. "Beg! Kill me! Do something!"
Az opened her eyes then, and the mixture of emotions in those purple depths confused Micah to no end. The depth of resignation, acceptance, and sadness there was staggering.
"It's all right," she whispered. Crystalline tears dripped down her cheeks. "I would die a million times over if it meant I could atone for everything she did. But my death cannot bring your brother back, and for that I am truly sorry."
Micah's mouth opened but no words escaped. She let go and stumbled back, her own eyes wide and bewildered. Air rushed into Az's lungs and she collapsed on the ground, wheezing. Her hold over the barrier shattered and Freeheart charged between the two women, screaming his rage.
"Freeheart, stop," Az choked as Micah ran for Proudflame. The pair thundered away, leaving Az and Freeheart alone. The only sounds were the princess' gasps and sobs and the stallion's thundering breaths. Eventually, the stallion knelt and curled around his mistress as best he could, until she could do nothing but cry into his mane.
"Oh, my heart, what do I do?" she whispered. Freeheart nudged her with his head, urging her to get onto his back. Even though her strength had all but left her, she managed to drag herself on. The stallion got to his feet slowly, and trotted into the deepening shadows of the forest.
Az drifted, not even noticing when it began to rain. When Freeheart finally stopped, she lifted her head from his neck, expecting to see Finaqua Castle.
Instead, she looked into the black maw of the witch's cave.
Please review!
Dun dun duuuuuuun! Az is finally face-to-face with the cave - and thus, her fears. Everything's been building to this moment because she'll need everything that she's learned about herself to get through it and achieve some semblance of peace. And now you all know why Micah's been horrible to Az. I hope you guys don't hate her too much!