A/N: This latest chapter actually started out as part of the previous one; but alas, there was honestly too much happening back there for me to include it. So, here we have the continuation! I hope it doesn't feel too rushed, and I hope you enjoy it, ladies and gentlemen.
GoodWitchesOfOz: No, Roquat's not dead yet; as for what happens now... well, just wait and see.
Inbalwolf: Once again, I offer a massive, grovelling apology for not including the Fiyero/Elphaba reunion; I couldn't put it in this chapter, because quite frankly, this chapter is made up of the previous chapter's overflow and once again, there's too much going on. I just feel I need to give the reunion more space to work rather than just tacking it onto the end; hopefully by doing this, I can make sure the event won't be as overshadowed as it would be here- ie: by part 2 of the final battle. Plus, I've still got a few on-screen events from Return to Oz to deal with. I thank you for your kind review and beg your indulgence for just a little longer- but rest assured that you most definitely won't need to kiss any feet.
CTN: Thank you so much for your review; I'm glad I was able to provide a suitable birthday gift, and I'm equally glad you enjoy how things are going. Your kind words are much appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked, Wizard of Oz, Return to Oz, the Oz books, and certainly not Oz itself.
It took a long time for Elphaba to finally stop crying; she didn't know or care how long she stood there, cradled in Glinda's arms, releasing all her pent-up guilt and sorrow in a flood of tears. At that point, the passage of minutes was virtually non-existent to her; all she cared about was staying in the presence of the friend she'd thought she'd never see again. Much like Glinda had a moment ago, she needed to be assured that this reunion wasn't just part of some cruelly beautiful dream that she'd soon awake from.
Glinda, for the most part, just held her- even though she was still soaked to the skin with the Nome King's blood and ocular fluid, along with all the dirt and grime she'd accumulated over the past week. Once again, Elphaba marvelled at how much her old friend had changed since she'd last seen her: braver, stronger, cleverer... and so much more haggard than before, she realized with a thrill of horror; taking in Glinda's tired eyes, bony frame and tattered clothing, it brought on a fresh wave of tears as she realized once again just how far she'd been driven in translating the Grimmerie.
Eventually, though, her breathing began to slow and Elphaba gradually stopped crying. She looked up, and realised that Glinda was looking at her with an expression of utter amazement.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"It's... that's the first time I've ever seen you cry," Glinda admitted. "I mean, by the time we left Shiz, I just thought crying was something I'd never see you do. I suppose it's been that kind of week, though- impossible things seem to have been happening left and right..." She laughed, and then her eyes narrowed as she finally seemed to notice the figures that were gathered around them. "And while we're on the subject of impossible things, who are all these people?"
"These are... they're the nearest thing to an army I could find at short notice. Well, part of it, anyway. The moment I heard that the Emerald City had been attacked, I flew over to see what had happened- and I got shot down by a gang of refugees. Once we'd gotten over the fact that we hated each other's guts, we decided to try and take on the Nome King; these four here-"
"Ten," Brollan corrected, his multi-throated voice making Glinda jump.
Elphaba rolled her eyes, and continued: "These ten here are all that's left of them."
The four (or possibly ten) each introduced themselves- Woolwax a tad more enthusiastically than the others. Glinda clearly had no idea what to make of them: Brollan could scarcely be mistaken for a human being even at a distance, Rasp was still heavily bandaged and currently using his rifle as an improvised crutch, and Javelin sported both a broken horn and a fresh coating of red paint. Next to all these oddities on display, Woolwax's slightly manic grin and overly-eager handshake looked quite normal, all things considered.
Her gaze shifted in the direction of the War Engine, where Diggs was slowly being helped down from the pilot's seat. "What about him?" she asked, her voice suddenly turning cold and unsympathetic.
"Nice to see you, too," Diggs grunted. "I'd have thought you'd be a little more welcoming, considering I just saved your life."
"Really? Oz is lying in ruins because of you, "Wizard"- how happy should I be at this point? And another thing- how the hell did you get here?"
Elphaba coughed loudly. "He's been imprisoned since he left Oz last year," she explained. "I only met him again yesterday- apparently the King wanted me to execute him. Once we got over the usual teething troubles you'd expect from being locked up in this hellhole, he designed this iron-clad monstrosity here to help us fight the Nome King."
There was a pause, as the expressions on Glinda's face swung between shock and disbelief. "You really trust him?"
"More or less. He seems willing to atone for what he's done in the past." In a much lower tone of voice, she added, "And even if he's lying about that, it's still pretty obvious he wants to escape from the palace, so we've got that on our side."
"But Elphaba, he's..." Suddenly, it was Glinda's turn to lower her voice to a whisper. "There's something you need to know, something I found out just after you mel- after you faked your death: he's your father. Now, I know you probably don't want to believe that, but-"
"I know," Elphaba gently interjected, "And I didn't want to believe it when he told me, but he had some pretty incontrovertible evidence in his favour."
"Wh... whu... you know? How- why- wha..." She floundered for a moment or two, gesticulating aimlessly about the room.
"Are you alright?"
"I... I'm fine- I will be in a minute," mumbled Glinda, still looking frantically about her. "There- there's just so much going on that I honestly didn't have the faintest idea about, and... it's going to take ages just to get to all of it..." Eventually, she turned in the direction of the resident Nome, the expression of confusion on her face deepening as she looked him up and down. "I mean, just take you: not to sound ungratefullating, Basalt, but since when did you decide to rebel against the Nome King?"
"I had been considering it for some time, Miss Glinda; suffice to say, I had found evidence of a conspiracy- political assassinations, mass graves on the outskirts of Oz, records of unpleasant events- and all of it led back to the King. However, I only made my decision after Miss Elphaba arrived in the palace."
"So you knew she was alive all along?"
Basalt shuffled uncomfortably, the ghost of a sheepish expression drifting across his otherwise blank face. "I had actually discovered this before the second assassination attempt, Miss Glinda," he admitted. "I found her while investigating a mass grave in the ruins of Munchkinland- or more accurately, she found me first, and mistook me for a spy. The first meeting went badly, to say the least."
"So that's why you said you'd still be considered an enemy- you weren't guessing at all!" For the first time since the dream world, Glinda actually looked hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?"
For several seconds, the Nome's face twitched with the effort of deciding a suitable response. "... I didn't know if you'd believe me," he said at last. "I didn't even know if you would be willing to hear what little evidence I'd managed to gather. By the time concrete proof was in reach, I was being watched by the Nome King's spies; even after I managed to escape them, I still couldn't tell you in case something went wrong. I wanted to tell you, but the nearest I could do was hint- to imply that..." He trailed off.
"Before this day is over, you will see Elphaba alive again," Glinda mused aloud, as if quoting. "You have a point," she sighed. The look of disappointment on her face didn't fade, however.
"Are you... angry with me?" Basalt inquired softly.
"No, no... It's just that- I didn't expect everyone to be keeping so many secrets, that's all. And everyone's been doing so many things for me, and I've barely done anything of any notabilitude in the last few days." She smiled weakly. "Just... just promise me that the two of you can explain everything that's happened once we're out of here."
"Of course," said Elphaba. Basalt wordlessly bowed his head in agreement.
Taking this as a cue to gather around and discuss strategy, the others drew closer- Diggs and Rasp taking slightly longer than others. However, just as Elphaba was turning in their direction, Glinda leaned in close and whispered, "You're here to stay, aren't you? You're not going to vanish as soon as all this is over and done with, right?" Her voice was pleading, almost begging. "You won't leave me like before, will you?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You promise?"
"Glinda, I've spent almost a week getting here, and every hour of it I've been worrying that you'd hate me for leaving you behind the last time: I'm not going to abandon you again. I promise you- once we're out of the palace and back in Oz, I'll be with you no matter what happens to the group."
And then, just as a relieved smile was gently playing out across Glinda's features, Basalt politely cleared his throat. "Would you permit me to accompany you?" he whispered.
Glinda looked puzzled. "What, back to Oz?"
"Yes, Miss Glinda."
"But I thought you wanted to keep being promoted and learn about emotions! I mean, do you really want to leave all that behind?"
"No- I do want to stay here among my fellow Nomes, just as I want to achieve all that you have suggested... but that may no longer be an option: by openly supporting you, I am now known as a traitor; I would not be welcome in Nome society even if we succeed in killing the King. But I still have my duties to attend you, and if you so desire, then I would gladly continue to serve as your Protector."
"Basalt, you're not really a traitor; I mean, I don't see why you'd be called one for standing against that maniac, and now that he's no longer a Nome, I don't think anyone's really going to listen to what he's going to say-"
"The guards in the last fight did: their expressions were proof of my current standing; they saw me only as an enemy- as an ally of Oz in all but species. There is no place for me in the Nome Dominions anymore, Miss Glinda; Oz- and my duties as Protector- are all that I have left. I will understand if you feel that other survivors will not trust me-"
"They won't trust Elphaba, either," said Glinda, her voice suddenly cold and resolute. "To hell with what they think; you're welcome to join us anytime you like- the more the merrier, I say."
Once again, Basalt inclined his head in thanks.
In the awkward silence that followed, the three of them realized that the rest of the group had started the strategy conference without them, and hastily separated.
"...question is, where's the bastard run off to?" Woolwax was grumbling. "Do you think he's bled to death?"
"Probably not," said Diggs. "He might have a few human organs about him, but he's still almost entirely Nome: you'll have to smash him to pieces and grind every piece down to dust to kill him for good- unless you've got some eggs with you."
"Eggs?"
"It's their weakness- I'll explain more about it later..."
"We've got a hen in the palace," said Elphaba brightly. "Trouble is, it's likely been transformed along with Pumpkinhead, and I don't know if Dorothy's found a way to restore him yet."
"Wait, what?"
There was a brief interlude, as Elphaba and Basalt hastily explained to Glinda just why Dorothy was in the palace. "There's another problem," Diggs added, as the thirty-second rundown came to a close. "Even if this hen really is alive and untransformed at the moment, you can't just expect her to lay an egg on demand."
"Well, if Nomes are really that scared of eggs, we can still use the chicken to threaten him into submissification," Glinda suggested. She sighed, and added, "I cannot believe I just said that."
"Whatever we do," said Basalt solemnly, "I recommend we do so quickly. Dorothy is still playing her part in the ritual: if she succeeds in returning all the participants to normal before we can stop the King for good, he will undoubtedly become a Nome again."
"In other words, you and the other Nomes won't be able to resist his orders anymore, right?"
"Worse than that, Miss Glinda. It means that he will be able to use our Forefather's technique again: even if we destroy his body, he'll be able to live on through any Nome close enough to be claimed by his spirit. It may very well be impossible to kill him."
There was an ominous silence, broken only by the clunking footsteps of a worker hurrying up to them, clutching something battered and dust-smothered in its arms; the Nome bowed, handed its unidentifiable cargo to Basalt, whispered something into his ear, bowed again, and scurried away.
Basalt studied it for a moment, and then held it out for the group's inspection. "Apparently, the King dropped this on his way out," he said.
Elphaba was the first to recognize it- and the first to smile. "Lo and behold," she said gleefully, "We have our trump card." She reached out, and swept away the thick coating of dust from its surface, revealing the familiar leather-bound cover of the Grimmerie.
And then without warning, an colossal explosion shook the palace, hurling everyone but Basalt to the floor. As they awkwardly struggled to their feet, Elphaba felt magic rippling out through the walls- as if a spell had just collapsed somewhere. But whatever the spell was, it wasn't what had caused the tremors that were still racing through the buildings: no, the source of that was far below them, probably down in...
"The ornament collection," Elphaba hissed. "Basalt, we need to get down there now!"
"STOP!"the King bellowed. "STOP!"
The ornament collection lay in ruins: the earthquake had done its part in tumbling vases and statuettes from the shelves, and most of the other objects had been smashed to pieces by the collapsing roof. They now layered the floor in a colourful pattern of broken crockery and glass, speckled with gemstones and precious metals; looking down at the rubble spreading across the floor, Dorothy could only thank God that they'd managed to save Jack's ornament (a large green vase) before it hit the ground. But now that he stood with them, the last few feet of wall was slowly crumbling away, revealing a massive cavern lit by constant jets of flame roaring up from the chasms below. And standing right in the middle of that hellish landscape was the Nome King, now at least two hundred feet tall; almost all of his human features had returned to stone, making him more like a man-shaped volcano than anything else. The only thing that remained was one livid, blazing eye; the other was gone, leaving an empty socket ablaze with lava.
Brushing shards of shattered porcelain out of her hair, Dorothy allowed Scarecrow and Jack to help her upright as the Nome King's demands for them to stop continued. "We haven't finished guessing yet!" she shouted desperately, backing away from the boiling-hot winds that now swept towards them. "You said if we guessed correctly-"
"I'M TIRED OF GAMES," the King thundered. "I'M TIRED OF ALL OF YOU!"
And you were lying, of course, Dorothy thought wearily. I should be used to that by now, I suppose.
The King's one-eyed gaze flicked from person to person, as if sizing them up for a challenge: eventually, he settled on the Gump. "WHY DOESN'T THE SOFA... GO... FIRST?" he boomed.
An arm that could have been easily mistaken for a stretch of road gone horribly wrong snaked out towards them- towards the horrified Gump; the mismatched creature tried to hurry away from the King's snatching fingers, but with his clumsy sofa body, he could only amble sluggishly towards the safety of the corridor. Indeed, all he managed to do was stop the King from grabbing him by the head when those column-like fingers finally reached him- and began dragging him across the floor.
Dorothy lunged forward, seizing the Gump by his front; she knew it wasn't going to even slow the King down, but she couldn't just let him claim his victim now. Jack and the Scarecrow joined her, and soon all three of them were hauling him back across the room by the armrest.
Then, the King drew his hand back hard, wrenching the sofa body almost completely out of their grasp: the only thing that stopped the Gump from being dragged away altogether was the fact that Jack and the Scarecrow had been holding him by the antlers instead of the armrest; with a loud pop of ropes giving way, the Gump's head came loose and landed in Scarecrow's outstretched hands. Still alive (or at the very least, still animated), the disembodied head could only watch in horror as its body was lowered into the Nome King's volcanic jaws and swallowed whole.
"NEXT!" the King roared. "PUMPKINHEAD!"
"Run!" Dorothy shouted, and before she'd gotten halfway through the word, all three of them were running back down the passageway- the Gump's head still clutched in Scarecrow's arms.
Above them, the King's bellowed another warcry: "NOMES! TO ME!"
"Goddamn," Diggs muttered. "I don't think I've ever seen him this angry..."
Elphaba and the others had just arrived in the ornament collection by its south entrance, several thousand feet away from the King's rampage. From her position atop the staircase that descended into the collection, she could see the gargantuan King tearing his way through the walls of the palace, searching for something amidst the chaos of the collection. Because her viewpoint further into the maze of collapsing walls was blocked, it wasn't entirely clear what he was looking for, but judging by the distant yells and screams, Elphaba could easily guess: Dorothy was somewhere down there, and the King was seeking her out on some mad vengeful whim.
And then they heard the King shouting for reinforcements; for a moment, it looked as though there'd be no response- up until Basalt saw the shapes of Nomes flowing through the rock walls towards them. These weren't standard palace guards, but soldiers called back from the army that had been amassing at the border, and Basalt pointed out, they probably wouldn't scare so easily.
As they swarmed into the depths of the collection, herding Dorothy and the others through the passages like dogs herding sheep, a few stragglers on the outskirts of the collection happened to turn the direction of the south entrance- and saw Elphaba and the others filing in. Screeching an alarm, they charged towards them.
The first one to reach the foot of the stairs was brought up short by Woolwax, who was still armed with a sledgehammer; Brollan swarmed in after him, claws and tendrils waving; even Basalt joined them, battering the attacking soldiers with clumsy but powerful blows from his stone fists. With Rasp sniping more incoming Nomes and Diggs trying to coordinate the workers dragging the War Engine down the stairs, that left Elphaba and Glinda poring over the Grimmerie, trying to find something that could kill the King for good.
"How many spells from this do you know?" Elphaba asked hurriedly, as she leafed through the book.
"Not many; it's hard getting the specifitations of a spell down when you've got government work to do."
"Just tell me what- it doesn't matter!"
"Well, I know a few spells for healing, a few basic transmutations and transfigurations, but that about it."
Elphaba sighed furiously. "Never mind; we're going to need something much more powerful than any of that- the most destructive spells in this book." She frantically turned towards the later chapters, occasionally glancing up at the King, hoping that he hadn't been able to catch Dorothy yet. "We're going to need things I didn't even consider using when I was still the Wicked Witch of the West!" she added, just for emphasis sake.
"Well hurry up!" Woolwax bellowed, smashing a Nome soldier's face into gravel. "I can't feel my arms."
"Give me time, give me time!" Elphaba screamed. She turned back to the book, flicking wildly through the last hundred pages and skimming from one impossibly powerful spell to the next: "Sunlight's beam- no. Golden Enshrinement- no. Crown of Flame- no. Verminous dissolution- dear gods, no. Aha!" She stopped at long last. "Seismic conflagration!"
"What does that do?" Glinda asked.
"Put simply, a very big explosion, enough to shatter mountains. Hopefully it'll be enough to stop this bastard. Glinda, keep an eye on the King; if he looks like he's getting close to killing Dorothy, do everything you can to get his attention. Woolwax, Brollan- keep those Nomes busy while I cast the spell!"
"Whatever you're going to do, be quick about it!" Brollan roared. "These things just keep coming!"
Elphaba barely heard him: she was already chanting the incantation, feeling the words of the spell flowing across her lips and transmuting into magical power as she cast her will towards the distant figure of the King. This wasn't as haphazard as her earliest uses of the Grimmerie; this wasn't the desperate attempt to impress the Wizard, or her fluke levitation enchantment a moment later, or that horribly improvised attempt at saving Fiyero's life. This was the epitome of precision; every word she spoke was carefully pronounced and uttered- and it had to be.
If she'd learned anything in all the time she'd spent using the Grimmerie, it was this: the more powerful the spell was, the bigger the mistakes could be; in some cases, you'd get the spell working- just not in the way intended; in others, the results could be so random you'd be lucky to leave the room with the same number of arms and legs. In one early experiment, a badly-mangled attempt to change a wallet from rough hide to soft calfskin had turned it into a swarm of angry wasps.
So, now that she was ending the first quarter of the spell, she'd have to speak the words as carefully and concisely as-
"LOOK OUT!"
Elphaba had just enough time to think "Oh what now?" before Glinda grabbed her around the middle and dived to the right just in time for the War Engine to go hurtling past; it just missed Rasp, went thundering down the stairs loudly enough to alert the three close-combatants well before it reached them, and crashed to a halt on top of the first row of attacking soldiers.
For a moment, the world went silent: Elphaba couldn't hear anything over the pounding of her heart and the fading echo of the War Engine's landing. Then she heard Diggs yelling, "Sorry..." and very nearly burst out laughing. Apparently, the workers had made a slight mistake in getting the machine down the stairs.
"Mistake?" she heard herself explode. "Mistake? Fath- Diggs, if that's your idea of a slight mistake, I'd hate to see a major screwup! I just botched the spell!"
"We're still alive, aren't we? That's got to count for something."
"True, but I only got through the first line of the spell; I mean, what did it do? What the hell did I just do?!"
They were trapped: on all sides, Nomes were pouring out of the walls and lurching towards them, their bodies forming monstrous shapes as they reached out to grab them- bear-trap jaws, lashing tentacles, scorpion tails, and all manner of clawed arms. At last, Dorothy realized why many of the walls had windows facing bare rock: it was to allow Nomes easy access to the chamber, all so they could surround anyone lucky enough to win the King's game.
But she knew that they weren't here to finish them off, for above them, the Nome King's hand was slowly descending towards Jack. Before he could scurry out of the way, before anyone could reach him- or his head- the King had grabbed him in another uncanny burst of speed.
Slowly, he was lifted, upside-down and terrified, towards the King's gaping jaws. Dorothy could only watch helplessly as those same jaws opened wider than ever, ready to engulf Jack...
... Then she felt something ripple across the room- something that bore the crackling, electrical feel of magic...
... And several hundred feet in the air, a chicken clucked loudly.
Dorothy had almost forgotten that Bilina had been hiding inside Jack's head when his part of the game had started, and for a moment, her heart very nearly stopped at the thought of two of her friends being killed at once. But then she looked around, and realized that the sound of Bilina's clucking had provoked a very odd reaction in the surrounding Nomes.
Every single Nome in the room was staring up at the figure dangling from the Nome King's grasp, their faces suddenly agape with fear.
Overhead, the King hadn't shut his jaws; judging by the look of naked terror in his eye, he was too scared to jostle the chicken that was dangling above them.
From her position inside Jack's head, Bilina shouted, "I LAID MY EGG!"
As one, every single Nome in the room took a step back.
During his unceremonious hoisting into the air, the top of Jack's head- normally kept firmly shut- had fallen open; now, around the circular rim of the opening in Jack's pumpkin head, something tiny and white was beginning to circle. It was undoubtedly an egg, and it was just on the verge of falling.
Very carefully, the King moved to draw Jack away from his mouth- but not carefully enough.
Suddenly, the egg stopped its mad roll around the inside rim of Jack's skull, and fell right towards the open jaws below.
The King slammed his mouth shut- but too late, too late...
An awful silence followed.
Even from here, Dorothy could already tell that something was different about the Nome King; the stone that composed his body was slowly turning pale and ashen. But as she watched, she realized that this wasn't another one of the King's regular transformations: this time, she could see the stone turning powdery and weak before her eyes, crumbling ever-slightly under its own weight.
A moment later, every single Nome in the room was in motion, diving back into the walls and disappearing into the floors, some taking to their heels and running at full speed towards the exit in a blind terror. And all of them were shouting a single word as they departed:
"POISON!"
During the long months following her escape from Oz, Elphaba had often wondered what it would have been like if water really could have melted her: how would the final deadly liquefaction have proceeded? Would it have been as short as she faked it- a brief, screaming collapse into liquid? Or would it have taken longer? Would she have staggered on through Kiamo Ko, slowly melting away with every step she took, leaving a long trail of bubbling green slime in her wake?
She'd never found any answers to those questions- partly because they were dreamed up during a time when her imagination had drifted strongly towards the morbid, but mostly because she hadn't been able to work up the nerve to experiment.
Watching the Nome King's death throes play out in the distance provided all the answers she'd never really wanted: true, it wasn't melting per se, but the decomposition swiftly eroding the King's features looked worryingly close. Before her eyes, he was slowly withering away, his stone flesh crumbling into ashes and rushing down his flanks in great clouds of dust; and though his face was already beginning to collapse under the effects of the poisons, the look of pain and shock was still written clearly on every remaining feature.
And Elphaba recognized that expression all too well; she'd seen far too many people wounded and bleeding to death in her lifetime to mistake it for anything else. It was the disbelief of someone watching their life slowly drip away before their eyes.
Very slowly, the King lowered Jack to the ground, too shell-shocked to carry out any last-minute revenge. As he released the struggling figure, he turned to the figures below him, and tried to say something, but pain- coupled with the fact that his throat was beginning to crumble away- made it all but inaudible to Elphaba.
He was barely a husk of his former self, now; from beneath the decaying veneer of his stone flesh, a skeleton of marble and nickel was slowly emerging, but that was clearly starting to erode.
Then, with his skull exposed to the world and his body still flooded with poison, he began to scream.
Elphaba looked away.
There were some fates you couldn't wish on anyone.
For the second time in her life, Dorothy found herself looking down at the withered remains of one of the feared beings in all of Oz; much like the rest of her second visit, however, the experience was vastly different: the Wicked Witch's death had been over in matter of seconds, with most of the melting made invisible by the cloak she wore, and it had been followed by so much cheering and fanfare that it took a long time for Dorothy to realize that she'd just killed someone. The Nome King's death was slow, with every stage of his collapse visible to the onlookers; and unlike the witch's screaming, ranting collapse, he'd remained almost completely silent up until the last few moments.
And now that he was dead, there was no cheering, no rejoicing: there was only the sound of another part of the palace collapsing into ruin.
Dorothy took a deep breath, and realized she was trembling.
What are we going to do now? She wondered. Now that the King's dead, there's nothing to stop us from leaving the palace, but how are we supposed to reach the surface? How are we going to get back across the Deadly Desert?
Somewhere far too close for comfort, there was an explosion, and a sizeable chunk of the roof landed ten feet away from them.
And how are we supposed to get out before the entire palace caves in on us?
As she pondered these questions, she happened to glance down at the massive heap of rubble that had once been the Nome King, and saw the luminous red light just visible behind the mass of rocks.
Hurrying over, she began digging through the wreckage, scarcely daring to hope that she'd actually find them; but a minute later, her fingers touched gemstones, and she drew the Ruby Slippers from the pile- only slightly worse for wear after having their former owner collapse on top them. And there was still magic here, enough to make her skin crawl at the sheer power of it...
She'd been listening when the King had told her just how powerful the Slippers were: if they were magical enough to help the King take over Oz, and return her to Kansas, they'd be more than enough to help them escape the collapsing palace. And perhaps that wasn't all.
Hoping that the Witch would forgive her for stealing the Slippers once again, Dorothy sat down and began hurriedly removing her shoes.
As she donned the final Slipper, she felt a jolt of energy race along her spine, and suddenly, her head was flooded with images of falling stars and rock flowing like water into new and unnatural shapes, vision after vision of all that she could possibly do with these enchanted slippers. And looking down at all the assembled possibilities with her mind's eye, Dorothy realized that, for the first time in her entire life, there was absolutely nothing that could possibly stop her now: getting them out of the palace was the least she could do with this power; she could remake Oz, the Nome Dominions, of any other part of the world in whatever way she pleased. She could raise mountains, turn the deserts into forest, rearrange the seasons, even fuse Oz and Kansas together and prove that she'd been sane all along. If she wanted, she could destroy the entire Nome race- erase the very memory of them from history. She could rebuild Jack as a human, so that he never had to worry about his head spoiling; she could give Tik-Tok the ability to wind up his own gears; she could even return the Gump to his original body- after all, resurrecting the dead was hardly a challenge to the magic she now wielded. Time itself was open to her with the power of the Ruby Slippers; the very forces of creation bowed to them. And as long as Dorothy wore them, nothing could stop her.
"What are you going to do?" the Scarecrow whispered.
After the influx of images, this question threw her for a moment: what would she do next?
Then, with another avalanche of rubble descending towards them and all the world-ending power of the Ruby Slippers hers to command, Dorothy Gale made her choice.
"I'm going to set things right," she said quietly.
Slowly, she began to click her heels...
"Basalt, it's alright," Glinda soothed, her voice the honeyed, cajoling tone that had managed to keep her in office for another month. "I'm pretty sure the King ate the only egg in the palace."
"But there may be... toxic residue."
"I think you mean yolk."
Basalt's face almost twisted out of shape at the sound of the word, but he managed to answer, "This is so."
"How much yolk can there be left on a pile of rocks which likely didn't even touch the egg when it landed? Besides, you're not planning on handling any of the boulders, are you?"
"No, Miss Glinda."
"Then you'll be okay, won't you? Now come on, Elphaba's waiting; I'll hold your hand, if you like..."
Almost immediately after the Nome King had finally succumbed to the poison, Elphaba had been anxious to see what had become of Dorothy and the others; with Basalt's inborn fear of eggs holding him back, Glinda had stayed behind to encourage him on while Elphaba led the others through the next few hundred feet of ruins to the King's body. It had taken several minutes for Glinda to finally persuade the Nome to get moving, but at long last, they were in motion again, ducking through the collapsed archways and passages that had once composed the ornament collection (and by now, most of the palace).
However, by the time they caught up with the rest of the group, Dorothy was nowhere to be found; the space where she'd been standing was almost lost in a massive heap of debris that had fallen from the roof. In fact, the only thing that remained the scene that had played out in the distance a moment ago was an even larger pile of rubble- the Nome King's body.
"What happened?" Glinda asked.
"The Ruby Slippers," Elphaba growled, anger and admiration mingling in her voice. "She actually used them! Sweet Oz, I really hope that child knows what she's doing."
"You're sure that's what happened? I mean, she could have just run away- or she could have been buried by the cave-in."
"No, no; I know the magic of those damn shoes when I sense it. Question is, what the hell is she going to do now?"
"More importantly," added Rasp, "What are we going to do now? I mean, the Nome King's dead and there's nothing to stop us from leaving, but how are we supposed to do that? The War Engine's broken."
"We can always repair it," Diggs suggested.
"That might take too long; I think the Nomes are going to be swarming all over the place long before we get those tracks working again."
There was a moment or two of humming and hawing for thought, and then Woolwax asked, "What about Glinda's Bubble?"
Glinda blushed. "I, uh... I really don't think that's an option anymore."
"Why not?"
"Er... I kind of... crashed it a little during the attack on the Emerald City. I mean," she corrected herself hastily, "I didn't lose control of the steering or anything like that, I just... um. Alright, I ran out of ideas in my first duel with the Nome King, so I decided to use it as a weapon."
Elphaba's jaw dropped. "You weaponized the Bubble?"
"It was the only option I had, okay? I crashed it into his head, and the energy blast did the rest."
"You... are you telling me it exploded?"
"Well, yes; there was a very big explosion- not enough to kill the King, but enough to blow him to pieces. And I know it was a stupid, irresponsible idea and should have saved the bubble for when I really needed it- whoa!"
Elphaba had unexpectedly grabbed her by the shoulders, and drawn her into a crushing bear-hug. "You have no idea how proud I am of you right now," she laughed, kissing Glinda on the cheek.
And then, just as the atmosphere was approaching something resembling merriment, there was an ominous rumble from pile of debris that had once been the Nome King, and a familiar voice groaned loudly. Suddenly, every single armament within reach was pointed at the heap of rubble, ready to shoot at the first sign of aggression; however, instead of attacking, the boulders of the rubble began to tentatively form the shape of a face- one lone human eyeball emerging to occupy the fragmented eyesocket.
"Ow," said the King softly.
"He's still alive?!"
"Don't sound so... aaaargh... so concerned, Elphaba. I doubt I'm going to get much healthier than I am right now... that was a direct dose of the poison I just swallowed. I'm dying..."
"You're taking quite a while," said Elphaba coldly.
"That's the terrible thing about poison, isn't it? It's not swift and clean as the pulp authors would have you believe: real poison is painful, messy, and often takes a lot longer than you'd expect. And this one, the poison of the egg, doesn't merely disrupt the stability of our bodies- it destroys the very energies of our spirits."
He laughed. "I suppose it's fitting, in a way: I was always too slow in getting things done... perhaps its right that I die that way..."
The eye rolled for a moment, as if lost in contemplation. "The Slippers are gone," he said absently. "And somehow, everything seems... clearer... calmer."
"I think that means you haven't got a channel of overpurified magic connected to your brain- assuming you're ready to actually believe me on that particular subject."
In spite of himself, the King laughed. "Have you ever seen a madman question his delusions?" he chuckled. "The irony isn't lost on me." He sobered for a moment, the expression amidst the boulders growing contemplative. "I'm sure I meant for something different to happen; I didn't want things to happen that way. But somehow, I did. I wanted Oz erased, but instead... what did I do? And I think I got the War Council too, but that could be just a dream..."
The eyeball turned in Elphaba's direction. "Do you think it could have been different?"
"What do you mean?"
"If I'd stayed myself. I'd been able to hang on to my sanity just a little longer, maybe I could have accomplish what I'd really wanted to do. Do you think that's possible? And what about you, Basalt?" the King added harshly. "Do you think I might have succeeded... or do you think your treachery was justified even before I descended into madness?"
Basalt said nothing; if he felt anything at the King's insult, he certainly didn't let his emotions show.
Instead, Glinda stepped forward. "In case you haven't noticed, you're on your deathbed, Your Majesty. Haven't you got better things to do than whine about how badly things went?"
Once again, the King chuckled weakly. "I don't know. After all, I haven't the slightest idea how long it'll take my spirit to finally dissolve; perhaps I'll die within the next minute, perhaps I've got another day's worth of life left in this decaying husk... but we'll see how things transpire, won't we?"
It was night-time when Dorothy and the others finally arrived back in Oz, tumbling back out of the void and onto a grassy hill overlooking the ruins of the Emerald City. For a moment, they sat in silence, checking that they'd all made the journey in one piece. Dorothy, however, could only look out at the forest below them and wonder if the Ruby Slippers had worked; as far as she could see, the landscape around her hadn't changed much: the trees still grew thick and impassable across the roads, and the city itself still lay in ruins.
Then, no sooner had she began to wonder what she'd done wrong, when a vivid green light rippled out across the broken skyline; when it finally faded, the towers and spires of the Emerald City stood tall once again. But the magic didn't stop there; it travelled onwards across the surrounding forests, rearranging the landscape and clearing the trees...
And then, just as the wilderness had begun to resemble the Oz she'd loved so much, a thought occurred to Dorothy: "Where's Tik-Tok?"
At first, it seemed the answer was fairly simple: they'd forgotten about him; when the Nome King had burst into the ornament collection and brought the game to an end, Tik-Tok had been the only transformed player left in the room. In the desperate chase through the hallways and the chaos that followed the King's death, nobody had had the time to look for him- or indeed the presence of mind to remember him. However, as Dorothy considered using the Ruby Slippers again, Bilina asked, "What's that on your antler?"
Close examination of the Gump's oversized antlers revealed that there was a tiny green medal dangling from one of the lower points... as if, in the rush to escape the ornament collection, the Scarecrow had accidently swept the Gump's head through one of the shelves and accidentally collected some of the ornaments along the way.
Jack's eyes widened. "You don't think it could actually be..."
"There's only one way to find out," said Dorothy. Gently plucking the medal from the antler, she held it tightly in her hand, and shouted, "OZ!"
And in a brilliant flash of light, Tik-Tok was standing before them. His head briefly swivelled left and right, taking in the dwindling forest around them. "My-Think-Works-Must-Have-Completely-Run-Down," he said bemusedly. "I-Do-Not-Remember-Leaving-The-Palace. But-What-Is-Happening-Now? Did-We-Win?"
Dorothy smiled. "I think so," she said, almost giddy with relief. "I think everything's going to be fine..."
But why, she wondered, did something in the pit of her stomach tell her otherwise?
Something was wrong.
Elphaba wasn't sure how she knew this, but something in the area had changed for the worst; it took a while for her to realize that this clue had emerged from the current state of her clothes. During the fight with the King, her cloak and dress had been soaked with Nome/Human hybrid blood; up until a moment ago, those same clothes had still been drenched. Now, for no reason whatsoever, they were dry.
She glanced in the direction of the King's still-moving body, and with an unpleasant jolt to the heart, found herself staring directly into the dying Nome's eye...
... An eye that was now made of stone.
As if in slow motion, she turned to Basalt; he'd clearly seen the King's return to normality, too, and was already turning to run. But before he could work up a decent pace, the Nome King's voice rang out:
"HALT."
Basalt stopped in mid-footfall, and stayed there, frozen in place. The others, paralysed with shock, ironically did the same.
"TURN."
Without a word of protest, Basalt obediently turned in the direction of the King.
The stone eye flickered towards Elphaba and Glinda. "SEIZE THEM."
Before either of them could react, Basalt's arms shot out, vice-like fingers fastening around their throats and hoisting them off the ground. Choking, Elphaba kicked out wildly at Basalt's chest, trying vainly to force him to let go; Glinda, meanwhile, was trying to speak, the words "What are you doing?" barely escaping her mouth.
"Not so rebellious now, is he?" said the King smugly. "A bit tighter if you please, Basalt."
As Basalt's grip slowly constricted around her throat, Elphaba heard Diggs shouting, "Let her go! LET HER GO OR I'll SHOOT!" He was holding a rocket launcher in his hands; the others were similarly armed, and all of them were aiming straight at Basalt.
"Would you risk hitting your daughter, Pinhead? I think not."
Diggs' aim shifted slightly to the right. "I'll shoot you much more readily, Roquat; let her go, or you die now."
"I'm already dying, idiot; not a lot you can do to me now. And besides, do you really think you'll be able to hit me before I can order her execution?"
"Just let her go!" the former Wizard shouted desperately. "I'll give you anything- anything!"
"Not so Great and Terrible now, are we? And do stop begging: I very much doubt you've anything left to offer me. Tighter, Basalt."
"B-Basalt," Glinda choked, "You don't have to do this; try... try to ig... ignore him!"
"I am sorry," said Basalt helplessly. "I cannot ignore his orders or resist them; please forgive me."
"You can resist!" Elphaba gasped, futilely trying to prise his fingers from her throat. She tried to focus on casting a spell, but the lack of oxygen made it almost impossible to concentrate. "You're not a mindless golem, Basalt, you're... nnngg... you're a free Nome! You disobeyed him once, you can do it again! Just try- please!"
Basalt's expression warped with the effort of trying to ignore a direct order. "Please forgive me," he whispered. "Please forgive me."
"You can do it!" Glinda shouted. "He's not even there, Basalt; he's dying, you don't have to listen to him anymore if you don't want to!"
"Save your breath, Glinda," said the King icily. "You're going to need it." He chortled darkly as the enslaved Nome's grip tightened even further. "What to do with you now, I wonder," he mused. "I can attribute more half of my recent failures to you two, and I'd feel more than justified in taking bloody revenge. I could easily just have your necks broken here and now; or perhaps a nice long flaying would be more appropriate. Perhaps something more extravagant- I could have Basalt shred you quite literally from limb to limb. Or best of all, I could have you taken into the deepest regions of the caverns and left there to rot..."
He paused for effect. "But I won't," he said at last. "Basalt, release them."
Elphaba and Glinda immediately landed in a heap on the floor; for a moment, they lay there, wheezing for breath, too disoriented to rise.
"As you said, Glinda, I've got much better things to do than moan about the past. Now is a time for survival."
"Oh no," said Basalt softly.
Suddenly, everyone was shouting: Glinda was yelling at Basalt to run, Basalt was yelling at Diggs to shoot him, Elphaba was yelling at Diggs to shoot the King, and Diggs and the others were trying once again to shout the King into submission. Then, before anyone could open fire, the King raised a vestigial hand and sent a shockwave hurtling towards them, knocking everyone but Basalt to the ground and taking another chunk out of the neighbouring wall.
"I came close to what I wanted to accomplish," the King whispered. "Now, I have the chance to complete it- with your assistance, Basalt."
"You don't have to do this," Basalt said, and it might have just been Elphaba's imagination, but she swore she heard a hint of fear in the Nome's voice- just audible over the sound of the wall giving way.
"Do you really think so?" The face amidst the rubble formed a mocking smirk. "Then perhaps it's time you truly learned the demands of leadership. Now hold still: the pain will only last for a moment..."
A few feet away, the wall finally collapsed, sending at least fifty tonnes of rubble hurtling towards them; the last thing Elphaba saw before it reached her was the Nome King's spirit ripping itself free of the inert body it had been anchored to and surging towards Basalt in the shape of an enormous vulture, its skeletal wings spread wide and needle-sharp talons ready to fasten on the helpless victim before it. And in that second before the monstrous spirit engulfed him, she heard Basalt murmur a single word:
"Glinda-"
Then the landslide of debris struck them head-on, plunging Elphaba's world into darkness.
A/N: Yes, I am a bastard when it comes to cliffhangers. I'm sorry for doing this all over again, GoodWitchesOfOz.