A/N: And, we're back. A long chapter here, folks: the closer we get to the end, the longer the road seems to get - but the pressure on the characters is mounting. The final battle will not be over in a single chapter, and I can only hope it lives up to the hype.
Anyway, without further ado, the latest chapter: read, review, and above all, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Wicked is still not mine.
The streets of Exemplar were awash with sound and colour.
Normally, every avenue and boulevard would be silent except for the gentle melody of pre-recorded music, the hushed whisper of conversation rippling through the crowds and the muted thud of footsteps marching down the street. But today, with the greatest victory over the Deviant Nations still fresh in the minds of the populace, a celebration had been allowed to break the silence, and now Exemplar was a whirl of festivity and exuberance – all carefully coordinated by the city's Masters of Revels.
On every street corner, a viewscreen was active, either showing the process of the parade as it snaked through the city or the heart of the party at the grand palace; thousands of people had flocked to the viewscreens just to catch a glimpse of the excitement, and thousands more hurried after the floats, caught up in the glory of the moment – and what glories there were today!
Triumphal anthems had replaced the jovial ditties that normally echoed through the streets, every loudspeaker now blaring with the clarion call of trumpets and the thunder of drums (all pre-recorded, the better to prevent the flaws that might appear in a live performance). Floats roared through every street, each one depicting another stage of the Empress's defeat of the Deviant Nations, from the slaying of the Mentor to the felling of the witch Elphaba. Specially-arranged dancers whirled atop the floats and through the crowd with an acrobatic grace that would have impossible for anyone but the Purified, somersaulting and pirouetting down the roads in strict, eerily-ordered motions. Perfectly-ordered ranks of soldiers marched through the streets in gleaming uniforms and dazzling suits of armour, their ranks a haze of stark white, glowing platinum and burnished gold brighter than the mid-afternoon sun. Military magicians plied their trade on the rooftop, weaving illusions of Deviant and Distortions in their death throes, conjuring mighty plumes of flame with which to burn the Mentor in effigy a thousand times over.
And at the palace, at the epicentre of the celebration, the heroes of the day were given pride of place among the dignitaries amassing atop the balcony: a dozen newly-promoted officers, all of them Purified for their efforts that day; a handful of generals who'd helped coordinate the assault on Greenspectre; and, of course, Colonel Gloss and his fellow defectors from the Strangling Coils. There were even rumours that the Champion might reappear at the very end of the day's festivities, and by doing so, usher in a new era of unopposed strength and vigilance within Unbridled Radiance.
But it was the Empress that everyone was waiting to see: already revered as a tireless defender against the corruption of Deviancy, already worshipped as a deity in all but name, her deeds on the front lines had brought newfound vigour to her followers and enhanced her legend a thousandfold. Not only had she brought ruin to the Deviant Capital, but she'd finally slain the Mentor herself, cast the dreaded Green Witch into oblivion, and defeated every single monster that had dared stand in her way, from the loathsome shapeshifters of the Amorphous League to the repulsive octopus general of the Strangling Coils. She had once again proved that she alone was perfect: not only had she foreseen the strategies of the Deviant Nations and planned for this very day, but she had marched into the maw of battle to emerge victorious.
Thus, everyone was waiting for the moment when, at the very apex of the parade, when the crowd was at its most frenzied and the speeches from the assembled dignitaries couldn't stoke their enthusiasm any further, the Empress appeared on the balcony to delivery her own concluding monologue.
So it came as something of a surprise when the moment finally arrived – and there was no sign of the Empress anywhere on the balcony.
More alarmingly, it soon became clear to anyone who was paying attention that this was most assuredly not part of the show, for a few attendants had ventured inside the palace to see what was keeping the Empress, only to emerge looking distinctly baffled. After several minutes of confusing rushing around on the balcony there was a whirring from the loudspeakers, and the city soon resounded with the Empress's voice: she congratulated her loyal servants for this latest victory, encouraged the audience to consider the heroes of today as an inspiration to them all, and proclaimed that today marked the beginning of the end of Deviant supremacy. But though the monologue prompted scattered applause and nervous cheering, there was no escaping the fact that the Empress herself was nowhere to be seen.
Nor was there any ignoring the even more egregious detail on the day: her speech was as pre-recorded as the music – for several members of the crowd clearly remembered those same words being spoken a few months ago in a similar victory parade.
For whatever reason, the Empress couldn't attend her own victory parade.
Her absence cast a pall over the remaining festivities of the day, and though the speeches and dancing and the other displays continued as intended, there was now barely-suppressed wellspring of fear at the heart of it all. In the last few decades of her rule, the only thing that had ever prevented the Empress from attending a ceremony such as this had been an imminent disaster. Either the Deviants had managed to find something that could sicken or even poison the Empress, or a threat to Unbridled Radiance itself had forced her to abandon the celebration. Either way, the audience agreed that it could only mean Very Bad Things on the horizon.
But with the crowd being distracted by either spectacle or anxiety, none of them happened to notice a strange girl scuttle out of an alleyway and sprint across the road, headed straight for the city walls – and even if they had, they probably wouldn't have had the time to notice the oversized dark glasses hiding her eyes.
Likewise, with so many guards off-duty or reassigned to security at the parade itself, none of the wall sentries noticed the same girl scuttling up the stairs onto the parapet. By the time the nearest patrol had reached those stairs, she was already moving on, sprinting along the wall towards the first of the enchantment sites…
Elphaba tiptoed hurriedly down the corridor, hoping against hope that she wouldn't look anywhere near as conspicuous as she felt.
She knew she had no excuse for being alone in this part of the Sepulchre, but with any luck, she could make look as if she'd merely gotten lost. So, she schooled her face into the most believable mask of anxiety and embarrassment possible, walked quickly, and offered pained-looking smiles at the guards and technicians that occasionally drifted by. Of course, the only reason why the act fooled anyone was because Elphaba wasn't actually acting and her nervousness wasn't feigned. Every so often, she would ask for directions from passers-by, trying her best to look overwhelmed with nerves and brimful of apologies; none of them asked any questions, so she had to assume her approach was working. Of course, if surveillance was paying any attention to her movements, they might take a greater interest, but for now she had to believe that she at least had a fighting chance.
Right now, she had Dorothy's bag slung over her shoulder; Dorothy had insisted she wouldn't be able to wear it while carrying it up the access shaft, and she had little use for the contents – the key word here being "little". Before they'd parted ways, Dorothy had gathered up a few small supplies from the bag, most prominently two small handheld radio transmitters she'd borrowed from the palace's quartermaster; with Dorothy taking one and Elphaba keeping the other, it would be possible for them to keep each other appraised of any emergencies in their respective missions, though hopefully it wouldn't come to that.
She'd also collected a small handful of glass phials from the bottom of the bag and hastily stuffed them into a sewn-on pocket of her dress. When asked what the hell they were, Dorothy had only winked and remarked that she'd borrowed them from Dr Kiln's lab – meaning they could be anything from chemical weapons to performance-enhancing drugs. Either way, she'd hurried off before Elphaba could ask any further questions.
Now that the bag was slung over Elphaba's shoulder, the jars of stored energy clinked and rattled with every step she took, audible only to Elphaba's panic-enhanced hearing. If anything went wrong, she was to break them open, restoring her age and her powers as quickly as possible so she'd at least stand a chance of holding out against heavily-armed base personnel. Unfortunately, even with this simple plan fully thought out, Elphaba couldn't stop wondering what might happen if she bumped into anyone or fell over, shattering the precious jars inside the bag... but at least it allowed the look of fear on her face another dose of realism.
If anyone was to ask, she was on her way back to the Crèche and hopelessly lost. Of course, her route was taking her nowhere near the Creche, but unknown to her allies in Greenspectre, she wasn't heading for the heart of the city's magical defences, either. Before she could hunt down the runic defence platforms, she needed to find and rescue Fiyero.
Elphaba had tried many times to justify this sudden skewing of priorities, insisting to herself that she needed to prevent the Empress from recreating the Champion, or that she could find some vital piece of equipment in whatever room the remaking process was taking place, or that Fiyero had seen some vital detail to the Sepulchre's layout that Morrible had missed. But in the end, Elphaba had admit that all these little justifications were a little bit unlikely at best and utter nonsense at worst; she needed to rescue Fiyero because otherwise, she'd never be able to forgive herself. All she could do was hope that Dorothy had the situation aboveground well in hand, as she hurried down the corridor towards the point on the map where Fiyero was supposedly being held.
Unfortunately, the room she was looking for was under heavy guard: two massive sentries stood on either side of the door, each of them layered with armour-plating and armed with rifles that looked as if they'd been built to puncture the hulls of battleships. The door itself had clearly been built to stand up to even bigger impacts, for it had the dense, unyielding look of a solid bulkhead, and if that wasn't enough, it was reinforced with a double layer of steel bars and several electronic locking mechanisms. Plus, there was a surveillance camera trained directly at the door, so even if Elphaba could have been able to take out the guards and blast her way through the door within the next twelve hours, reinforcements would be on the scene in a matter of minutes.
Nor could the sentries be persuaded to let her in: a few hours ago, the Empress herself had informed them that the Childlike Researchers had completed their work on the Champion's body, and no further admittance into the room was necessary. Knowing she'd only draw attention to herself if she pushed the matter, Elphaba circled the room for a moment as she considered her approach, trying to determine what to do next. In the end, she settled for doing something insanely reckless.
After perhaps a minute of scouring the corridors, she eventually a vent just out of view of the cameras. It was set into the ceiling at least six feet above the ground and well out of reach for Elphaba at her current height, but even in her weakened state, she still had just enough magic to work miracles.
Granted, levitation hadn't been easy even when she'd had her full strength, so trying it now made her feel as if she was trying to walk a tightrope with an entire four-story building balanced on her head… but somehow, she managed to slowly force herself into air one painstaking inch at a time. The witch-crystals hadn't completely regressed out of existence, and even buried in her flesh as they were, they still provided enough power to lift herself up to the vent, carefully prise the cover off the vent and float inside, pausing only to fit the cover back on behind her.
Admittedly, Elphaba was drawing most of her inspiration from Dorothy in this.
Cheap paperback thrillers often featured their heroes scuttling through air vents as if they'd been designed to double as secret passageways; back in Oz, during one particularly disastrous attempt to sneak into the barracks of a re-education camp, Elphaba had tried this very method. After nearly getting stuck for the third time running, she'd nearly choked to death on dust bunnies, and had ended up sneezing so loudly that she alerted everyone in the base to her presence – and the sound of her banging clumsily around the vents brought the guards right to her position. Only an emergency blast of runaway magic had saved her life, and it took several months before she was remotely comfortable around enclosed spaces ever again – by which time she'd concluded that the people who wrote such novels had never noticed how small ventilation ducts were in reality.
Dorothy had possessed one advantage over both Elphaba and all these pulp heroes: she was still a child, not to mention quite short and skinny for her age, and her scrawny frame had allowed her to easily slide into the ductwork around Dr Kiln's private quarters.
Right now, Elphaba was even smaller than Dorothy, and now the vents looked more like something out of a disused playground: previously, she would have had to painstakingly squeeze herself through this vent with her body pressed flat against the floor; in her regressed state, she could crawl around half-upright without bumping her head. All the same, she was careful to levitate rather than crawl while she was over inhabited areas: the last thing she wanted to do was make too much noise while navigating the vents.
After several minutes of floating around the ductwork in search of some way into Fiyero's cell, she eventually found the ceiling vent she was looking for, carefully unscrewed the cover and – after telekinetically catching the lid before it could hit the ground – peeked around the ceiling, hastily surveying the area for any sign of security cameras. Finding none, she lowered herself into the room as slowly and carefully as she could manage.
The room below was a little larger than expended, more than enough to accommodate the machinery clustered around the walls and floor, as well as the two metal slabs that occupied its very centre. On one, the Champion lay naked except for a sheet over his middle, his body pale, motionless and dead; however, he'd obviously been repaired since Elphaba had last seen him, for his body showed no signs of the injuries that had killed him or of the autopsy that Kiln had performed all those weeks ago. At the far end of the slab, a small array of automated arms were fitting a number of gleaming metal components into apertures set into the dead Champion's skull, replacing the ruined machinery that had occupied his brainpan with shiny new augmentations.
But on the other slab, held down with manacles and caged beneath a glass cylinder, Fiyero lay in helpless silence. A monumental wave of relief swept over Elphaba at the merest sight of him; she hadn't arrived too late – he was still alive and in one piece.
Of course, keeping him that way might be a different matter altogether. Beneath him, the metal table had been daubed with an improbably-intricate array of magical sigils, all of them glowing a luminous green in the fluorescent light; a quick glance under the Champion's body revealed an identical set of glyphs, connecting the two bodies through an invisible thaumaturgic network. More worryingly, Fiyero's slab sat on a set of rails that led directly to an ominous-looking chute set into the wall; there was no sign of where it led to, but the faint smell of wafting smoke told her everything she needed to know.
The moment Elphaba landed, Fiyero immediately looked up, straining to tilt his head in her direction as he took in the new arrival. "Okay," he mused aloud. "This is new. Was there any particular reason why you didn't just take the door like everyone else? I mean, maybe you lost your keys, or something, but I don't judge. I doubt I'll be capable of judging anyone within the next few hours," he added bemusedly, "but that's beside the point. Come to think of it, what are you even doing here? I thought the Childlike Researchers had finished with me by now."
Once again, Elphaba could only shake her head in exasperation at how well her disguise had worked. After spending her entire life being immediately noticeable thanks to her skin, it still seemed beyond belief that she could become so inconspicuous just by draining a few years and changing her skin tone… but one way or the other, it worked. Even Fiyero didn't recognize her.
"It's me, Fiyero," she hissed. "I'm here to rescue you." By way of emphasis, she reached into the shoulder bag and held out her hat.
Fiyero's burlap features creased with bewilderment. "…I have so many questions," he said at last. "I mean, how the hell did you get here in the first place? What happened to your skin? How did you become a Childlike Researcher? How did you get out of the void? I-"
"I'll explain in a minute," Elphaba interrupted. "For now, let's just focus on getting you out of here."
Fiyero sighed and shrugged in acquiescence, or tried to: with the restraints in place, he could barely move his head, much less his shoulders. So, Elphaba set to work on trying to free him from the slab, first by removing the glass lid pinning him down; from the looks of things, it was held in place by a series of heavy steel locking mechanisms, and judging by all the machinery at work around the room, the only thing that'd be able to manually removing the locks were the automated arms still at work on the Champion's brain. However, Elphaba had a sneaking suspicion that the people who'd designed this system hadn't counted on a witch breaking in.
As she went about removing the first of the locks, she hastily explained everything that had happened to her in the last few hours, from her unexpected crash course in dimensional physics to her arrival in the Creche and the hastily planning session that had followed. Fiyero listened intently, pausing only to warn her not to speak too loudly in case the guards on the other side of the door heard. But as casual as he seemed, Elphaba could tell from the way his eyes kept flicking back to the furnace chute that he was a lot more nervous than he looked.
Unfortunately, unlocking the lid proved to be just about impossible: the mechanism was too complicated to be magically unlocked, at least with most of Elphaba's power still stuffed into a jar along with her siphoned years. Similarly, cutting it open with a fire spell would take too long: quite apart from the fact that there was no telling when the guards would next check on the prisoner, the Deviant Nations would need her to finish destroying the defences.
Pity you didn't think of that before you blundered in here, remarked a particularly vicious voice in the back of her mind. You're always screwing up your priorities when it comes to loved ones.
Doing her best to ignore it, Elphaba stood back and tried to magically level the lid open through sheer brute force, but no matter how hard she tried, the glass refused to budge. Once again, she'd dumped too much of her power into the jars to perform any of her usual feats of magical might: if levitating had felt like trying a balance a house on her head, this felt like having an entire continent piled onto her shoulders. In desperation, she tried to break to glass, to shatter just enough of the lid to get at Fiyero's restraints, but it refuse to so much as crack.
"Probably wouldn't work anyway," said Fiyero, grimly. "I've been sewed into the manacles: the moment you try to get me out, you'll tear me right open."
Elphaba ground the heels of her hands against her eyes and muttered a vowelless groan of frustration – mixed with outright fear. Behind her closed eyes, she frantically reviewed every single incantation, gesture, ritual and rune in her magical repertoire, trying to think of something, anything that could get Fiyero out of restraints and be easily accomplished at her current level of power. So far, not many things sprung to mind.
The only option that appeared to be viable was opening the jars and restoring her power… but of course, she wouldn't be able to restore her disguise once that was done, not with Morrible back at the Crèche behind several layers of security. Unless Elphaba could figure out a way to improvise an invisibility spell at short notice, she and Fiyero would be discovered the moment they left the room; without reinforcements, Elphaba would eventually end up dead in the ensuing confrontation, while Fiyero would be sent right back to his slab as if nothing had happened.
In growing panic, she looked down at the tracks connecting Fiyero to the chute. "How long until the process is complete?" she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
Fiyero eyed the clock hanging on the wall just above the door. "If the Empress was right, less than forty-five minutes: then, my consciousness will be transferred into the Champion's body and these damn tracks will tip my old body into the furnace. Bit upsetting, but I probably won't even notice it: once my soul's taken up residence in Mr Fancy Pants over there, all the new augmentations that have been made to that body will make sure that I never have to think "Deviant" thoughts ever again. And the guards will be in to check on me in the next fifteen minutes, so you'd better not be around by then, Elphaba. One way or the other, it's not looking good."
Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to make an impossible choice, to do the absolutely unforgiveable. For several seconds, Elphaba paced the room in growing horror, stomach churning, her gaze swinging wildly from one wall to the next in the desperate hope of finding something that could help. She thought of blocking the tracks, or destroying the automated arms that would push the slab towards the furnace, but that wouldn't do anything to stop the transfer of his mind. She considered erasing the ritual setup around the slabs, but even if she could remove those marks with her diminished power, it wouldn't actually free Fiyero from his cage; Elphaba would have to leave him behind – and once the guards arrived to find that the Scarecrow was still in possession of his old body, they'd just call in the researchers to restart the process. On the verge of hysterics, Elphaba spun around the room in a pirouette of anxiety, well aware that she looked humiliatingly like a little girl lost at the market place.
In the end, her only available choice was depressingly binary: she could restore her age, use her full power to break Fiyero out of his cage, then face the full might of the Deep Sepulchre and the Empress in a battle that would end with Elphaba dead and Fiyero recaptured… or-
She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, not even in the privacy of her own mind.
Unfortunately, Fiyero decided to voice it instead: "I'm sorry, Elphaba," he said quietly, "but I think you might be out of options: if you're going to save the day, the best thing you can do is leave me behind."
"What?!"
"I know it sounds crazy, but it might be all we've got. The Empress planned this out too well, Elphaba: she wanted to make absolutely sure I'd become the Champion, and maybe that's all I can be from now on. Maybe it won't be so bad: like I said, 'life's more painless for the brainless-'"
Elphaba's heart wobbled dangerously as the Champion's last words echoed through her brain once more. "Please don't talk like that," she groaned, trying valiantly not to cry.
"Well, look on the bright side: if all goes well and you manage to stop the Empress for good, maybe you can restore my mind once the war's over. Besides, it's gotta be a lot easier than just making me a whole new body from scratch."
"Fiyero, I-"
Elphaba paused in mid-sentence, her eyes very slowly creeping from Fiyero to the nearly-repaired body of the Champion on the other slab. There was still a wide array of components still waiting to be fitted into place, all of them labelled in the blocky, childish handwriting of the researchers, presumably for the benefit of the automaton working the system.
As if drawn by magnetism, Elphaba drifted over in a daze of suppressed excitement, heart almost hammering out of her undersized ribcage. Please, she thought fervently, praying to whoever or whatever might be listening. Please, just give me one other perfect day. I know I used up all my good fortune when Fiyero and I were reunited and I defeated the invasion fleet, but please, just give me another one of those perfect days. Just one, that's all I ask. Please let it not be too late…
Looker closer, she saw that the components consisted mainly of metal tags carved with magic runes and intricately-shaped circuits, presumably for replacing brain functions that the Champion's body could no longer perform on its own. As they were evidently quite delicate, they'd all been packaged in dense plastic sheathes, making them look more like gambling chips than anything else… and, as she'd noticed, they were labelled. "TARGETING SYSTEMS," read one. "REFLEXES," read another.
However, a small group sat at the back of the try under a single collective label: "MENTAL SUPPRESSANT SYSTEM."
From the looks of the schematics that the researchers had left piled at the workstation, the Champion's new brain was essentially a semi-organic thinking engine similar to that of Paragon (albeit much smaller). In much the same way that Paragon caged the minds of the dead so it could adopt their thought patterns, this new setup could cage Fiyero's brain and allow him to operate at the same level as he had as a human… but with the suppressant system in place, he wouldn't be capable of independent thought or remembering his previous – or indeed any form of cognition that the Empress didn't permit. Unlike the mangled brain of Fiyero's counterpart, there'd be no chance of the new Champion ever recalling even the faintest vestige of his old identity, not while the suppressant was active… and thanks to the reinforcements made to the skull, the chances of damaging or destroying these components were virtually non-existent.
Unbridled Radiance was rife with hidden cracks in its efficient exterior, but when it came to strategies of war and control, the Empress could be frighteningly effective: her setup for replacing the Champion was a terrifyingly elegant system, perfectly arranged and perfectly guarded… or it would have been if not for the simple fact that nobody in the world could have predicted Elphaba's arrival here this afternoon.
An insane gambit was forming in the back of Elphaba's mind, progressing faster and faster as the seconds ticked by. Hopefully, this room wasn't fitted with hidden cameras, or else her plan would be over before it even began.
Plucking the first component of the suppressant system from the tray, she yanked it out of its plastic sheath and dumped the metal tag into a pocket of her shoulder bag, before putting the empty casing back on the tray. One by one, she removed every single component from the assembly, from "TOTAL LOYALTY," to "INSTINCTIVE INTOLERANCE," and stripped them of their housings before putting the emptied sheaths back on the tray – always exactly where she'd found them.
She was well aware of the fact that this might not work in several dozen ways: the arms could very well have noticed what she was doing and might have already sounded a silent alarm; if Elphaba's presence was discovered, the Empress might follow her tracks and have the system repaired just to be safe; and of course, there was the possibility that the sabotage might have no effect whatsoever, and the suppressant system would function even with most (if not all) of its parts missing. But right now, this was all Elphaba could do to save Fiyero from being rendered down into a mindless automaton… and if this worked as planned, it would finally give Fiyero a new body.
Pausing only to empty the unsheathed components into the furnace where they belonged, Elphaba hurried over to Fiyero and whispered, "I don't know if what I just did will have any effect… but whatever happens, whatever they try to do to you, remember who you are."
"Oh, you know me, Elphaba," said Fiyero, grinning in spite of himself. "Unforgettable in every way."
Elphaba laughed weakly, suddenly realizing just how terrified she was: if this went wrong, she could be condemning Fiyero to an eternity spent as the Empress's Champion, an existence even hollower than that of his counterpart in this world. What if disabling the suppressant system wasn't the best way of saving him? What if there was something else she could do, something she hadn't yet considered? Perhaps if she-
Fiyero must have noticed the way her eyes were frantically scanning the room, because he immediately let out a loud and largely unnecessary cough, startling Elphaba out of her reverie. "You've done all you can, Elphaba: you don't need to spend any more time on me. You've got the world to save, remember?"
"Fiyero-"
"Six minutes and counting, Elphaba. You don't wanna be here when the guards check in on me." He offered a reassuring smile in spite of himself. "And no goodbyes: you know as well as I do that this isn't the time or the place for it; we'll see each other again soon."
And at this, Elphaba knew there was nothing else she could say or do: she'd reached the limits of her powers for now. Either this would work, or it wouldn't, and all she could do was wait to see what happened next – and accept the end result.
So, she smiled back, did her best to hold back the tears, and whispered, "Good luck."
And then she was gone, levitating back into the vent.
By now, the last inch of daylight had vanished behind her, replaced by dazzling artificial lights set into the artfully-hewn ceilings, and Dorothy was now sprinting along as fast as her feet could carry her – no easy task considering that the spare pair of shoes she'd added to her shoulderbag hadn't been made for long-distance running.
By now, she was just coming up on the first of the enchanted loci that maintained the defences around Exemplar, and the journey had descended from the topmost parapets of the eighty-foot-high wall around the city to the chambers directly beneath them. According to Morrible, each of the loci had been buried underground, well away from external bombardment or enemy incursion; for good measure, the chambers that contained the loci were not interconnected, meaning that anyone intending to attack them would have to descend each tower one at a time and allowing the remaining defenders time to fortify their defences.
However, the defences had been designed to protect against small armed groups, not individual infiltrators, least of all someone of Dorothy's side. More to the point, most of those defenders consisted of people, not machines – "so as to avoid subversification by technically-savvified opponents," Morrible had claimed – and while the city was still tangled up in celebration, the guards would hopefully be a lot sloppier than usual. From what Dorothy had seen so far, most of Exemplar was convinced that the Deviant Nations were on their last legs, so hopefully the same would apply to the soldiers who were guarding this area.
Fortunately, she hadn't been spotted by any of the guards on duty at the towers just yet, but only because she'd been moving too quickly and too quietly for any of the sentries on duty to spot her: by the time they'd glanced in her direction, she was already close enough to paralyse them. Of course, she had a sneaking suspicion that it was only going to get harder the moment she destroyed the first loci, but she didn't have time to waste on her gnawing anxieties. She needed to keep moving.
Finally, the heavy metal door to the first enchantment loci loomed ahead. As she'd hoped, the door had been left slightly ajar, courtesy of a recent shift-change and several bored guards who wanted to be enjoying the parade. So, Dorothy reached into her pocket and held out of the phials; then, she swung the door open just wide enough to throw the phial inside, and then ducked for cover.
There was a muffled explosion, followed by a rush of air and a long procession of coughing as the release gas took effect; before long, the room resounded with the thuds of bodies hitting the floor, but Dorothy gave it at least fifteen seconds before she felt safe enough to open the door. By then, everyone in the chamber beyond was unconscious.
Silently reminding herself to thank Dr Kiln for working on prototype gas weapons, she stepped inside and made a beeline for the enchantment hub at the centre of the room.
As Elphaba had explained during their time together, some heavy-duty spells were exceptionally difficult to work with: when it came to things like magical wards, shielding enchantments and reality-warping incantations, it was often best to place them around an object instead of around a place or a person; after all, the key aspect of true spells was that they couldn't be undone. Magical gestures and pure implementations of will could be reversed, but actual spells – incantations, runes, transfigurations and enchantments – were impossible to turn off: all you could do was cast another spell to ameliorate the effects of the original, or wait for the effects to fade… and in the case of eldritch, unimaginably-powerful spellbooks like the Grimmerie, the effects never would fade. So, Elphaba had explain, when it came to things like defence, the safest thing to do was use simpler techniques that could be undone or enchant an object: that way, if you needed to remove or alter the shields, you wouldn't have to go through the whole dreary process of finding a spell that could change things – all you'd have to do was remove the enchanted item or destroy it.
Hence, the network of enchantments that defended Exemplar, each one placed around a tiny ingot of metal in a reinforced safe; for good measure, each safe sat in a hidden compartment at the centre of each chamber, heavily armoured against explosives, magic and aerial bombardment. Unfortunately for the Empress, she hadn't counted on the fact that someone might have a map to these components.
From everything Dorothy had heard so far, most of the cities of Unbridled Radiance and even the Deviant Nations used a similar system – after all, it proved so effective that the only reason the Empress had managed to attack Greenspectre was by smuggling teleporters inside. But Exemplar had the biggest magical defence network: over a dozen enchantments set up under the walls of the city, with at least three or four more hidden in the Deep Sepulchre under the palace – and it was up to Dorothy to take down the first twelve.
It took her a grand total of thirty seconds to find the compartment, open it, and reduce both the safe and the enchanted ingot inside to molten slag. Then she was hurrying along, sprinting out of the chamber and up the stairs as quickly as possible, hoping that reinforcements weren't on their way yet.
One down, eleven to go…
After far too much running for her current height, Elphaba finally skidded to a halt just a few feet away from the first of the Deep Sepulchre's defensive enchantment chambers.
It had been a long, awkward journey from Fiyero's room to this isolated end of the complex, made all the slower by the fact that Elphaba had to occasionally slow down and make sure that her presence didn't raise the alarm. Every time she heard guards approaching, she had to stop running and practically tiptoe down the corridor, smiling childishly at anyone who happened to look at her; every so often, she had to force the surveillance cameras to look away from her as she passed, or risk some security operative sounding the alarm; more than once, she'd had to levitate into a vent just so she wouldn't be seen crossing a checkpoint.
But all that effort had been worth it, for now she was here, one corner down from a heavily-reinforced door with a complicated mechanical lock. There were two guards on duty, but judging by the vacant positions marked along the wall, there should have been a whole platoon in attendance. Either they'd been given a day off thanks to the parade, or someone had deliberately called them away on other business. Elphaba couldn't help but wonder a bit about this as she prepared herself to fight, for she'd seen quite a few absences as she'd crept through the corridors in the last few minute – some in places that had been fully manned not long ago: for some reason, guards were being reassigned very suddenly all over the Sepulchre, though Elphaba still couldn't figure out why. Hopefully it didn't have anything to do with her or Dorothy… but then again, it wasn't as if their luck could hold out forever.
Elphaba sighed. No point delaying it any longer; best just get this over with and hope these guys aren't prepared to be attacked by children.
Without another thought, she stepped out from behind the corner, and before either of the guards could react, send a blast of kinetic energy hurtling down the corridor, blasting the two of them off their feet. Hitting the nearest wall side-on, they slid to the floor and lay still; a quick check confirmed that they were alive, but unconscious. Elphaba left them to it, not wanting any other casualties on her conscience; besides, she didn't have much magical stamina in her current form, and her infrequent levitations were really beginning to wear on her.
Fortunately, it didn't take too much effort to weld a hole in the door and open it from the opposite side without having to bother with the lock. Inside, sitting on a granite pedestal was the runic defence platform, a complicated mass of enchantments and arcane glyphs built for the sole purpose of keeping the Mistress of Mirrors away from Exemplar.
If Elphaba was right, this was powerful enough to keep the other Nessa's magic out of the city and over twenty miles of its surrounding area; provided that Alphaba hadn't placed any runic defence platforms in the region beyond the radius of the enchantment, it would theoretically be possible for her to send troops and airships in via any shadows or reflections found in the wilderness… but from the Empress's memories, she knew the countryside was dotted with watchtowers, surveillance stations, military encampments and even manufactories for the Vigilant Eyes. If the fleet were to materialize out there, they'd be seen in a matter of seconds, and the entire Radiant Fleet would soon be deployed to deal with them. The only way the Deviant Nations could stand a chance of defeating the enemy was by arriving right outside Exemplar… and the few runic defence platforms kept down here were the key to that.
To the eyes of the casual observer, the RDP would have been appeared to be nothing more than an octagonal mirror studded with glowing symbols, but Elphaba could feel the magic rippling of it like heat from a furnace; the Empress had personally enchanted this artefact, trusting nobody else to ensure the safety of her capital city. But even with her magical powers reduced to barely half their original strength, she was still capable of destroying the mirror entirely with a single sustained blast of magic.
As she hurried away to the next site in line, Elphaba's thoughts drifted back to the inexplicable staff shortage. Once again, the safest bet was to assume that someone had finally realized that two Childlike Researchers had snapped the leash, and the sudden flurry of reassignments was due to a colossal manhunt staged to track Dorothy and Elphaba down – with Elphaba herself being lucky enough to arrive at the enchantment chamber after the guards had been summoned elsewhere.
But if their presence hadn't been noticed, what could have possibly caused this?
The Empress fumed silently for a moment as she examined the portal, looking for any evidence of possible intrusion.
"And you're absolutely positively sure that you haven't seen any signs of portal activity in this room during the past hour?" she demanded.
Dr Lintel nodded wordlessly, by now too scared to reply out loud; like many of her entourage, he'd already noticed her bad mood and was already instinctively bracing himself for an explosion. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have anything to worry about, but the longer Elphaba remained unaccounted for – and therefore capable of further mischief – the harder it was to keep her anger in check.
"And what of the surrounding area? Have your instruments picked up any readings from the rest of Unbridled Radiance? I'm looking specifically for portals being opened far enough to deposit a live human being, but I'll settle for even the beginnings of baseline portal activity."
Lintel cringed and tried not to make eye contact. "There was… trace portal activity somewhere nearby," he murmured. "My machines weren't active to detect it, but there was definitely something going on in the interdimensional fabric not long ago."
"Could it be a sign that someone's trying to re-enter our world."
"…it's possible. Maybe."
The Empress sucked in a deep breath through her teeth and turned in the direction of the Sepulchre's resident head of security. "Have there been any anomalies reported in the last sixty minutes?"
"None, Your Radiance: Paragon is consistent in his reports, as always; the Sepulchre remains undisturbed. One or two guards from the more isolated sectors have failed to check in, but it's possible that they may have already been called away to reinforce the portal chamber at your command. We have sent a team to investigate, but-"
"Nevermind that. While we're on the subject of reinforcements, where are the additional troops I requested for this very chamber?"
"They will be here momentarily, Empress. However, the celebrations have left us unfortunately short-staffed, so we will have to reassign the soldiers charged with guarding the Sepulchre's defence network until we can recall off-duty troops."
"Acceptable for the time being; as long as we have defences ready at the portal, the situation is under control."
"As you say, Your Radiance; however, the risk of allowing intruders access to the defence systems is still considerable, and with the checkpoints understaffed-"
"-I know," the Empress hissed through gritted teeth. "I understand the risks, commander, and I have deemed them acceptable for the time being. If there is going to be an attack on this facility, it's not going to come from outside, but from within. We haven't overheard any reports of Elphaba returning to the Deviant Nations, and the only signs of portal activity have been from the Sepulchre, and the most probable locus for a new one would be that" She jabbed a finger in the direction of the portal. "If Elphaba is indeed alive, she'll be coming through this special gateway we've built."
"How do you know she's still alive, Empress?" Lintel asked, innocently.
There was a horrified gasp from around the room; few ever dared question the Empress so openly, much less as casually, and though the Childlike Researchers were given leeway due to their overall immaturity, there were limits to how much even they could get away with.
For the first time in over a decade, the Empress nearly lost her temper; only by determinedly chewing on her bottom lip did she manage to suppress her rage. "Because I have sensed her!" she snapped. "If she's close enough for me to detect, she must be alive and in our dimension – or so close to it that it makes no difference; she's in there right now, beating her hands against the wall between worlds and screaming to get in!"
The security chief looked from the Empress the portal with a decidedly un-Purified look of confusion on his sculpted feature. "In which case, wouldn't it be safest just to destroy the framework for the portal? That way, this Deviant wouldn't be able to attack the area-"
A tiny stab of pain rippled along the Empress's lip as she bit down harder than ever. "Because I want to make sure she's gone this time. I don't want her finding a way to open a portal in the Deviant Nations… and I certainly don't want her finding another way to return."
There was another reason why they couldn't destroy the newly-perfected portal gateway, of course: it was going to be the centrepiece of her next gambit. The canisters being arranged around the portal chamber were filled with a specially-formulated vapour; in time, these canisters would be deployed inside the fabric of an open portal, where the gas inside would form a protective layer around the interdimensional wall, hardening the substance of the multiversal strata until it would be impossible for any further intruders to enter Unbridled Radiance; any dimensional travellers who could somehow penetrate this new fortification would find themselves caught in a thaumaturgical web, and there they'd stay until the Empress could examine them. In time, this was to become to overture to an even grander project, for though it would be almost impossible for outsiders to penetrate the barrier, Unbridled Radiance's specially-equipped away teams would be able to pass through it unopposed; in time, these away teams would begin colonizing other words, expanding the Empire's reach into the multiverse. It might even be possible for other incarnations of Unbridled Radiance to be contacted and allied with – forging a new and unstoppable alliance between like-minded bringers of perfection.
But unfortunately, the gas wouldn't be ready for at least twenty-four hours, and the expansion plan couldn't begin for months yet. Until then, the portal had to be preserved.
"How much longer 'til those troops arrive?" she demanded, anxiously glancing over at the portal.
"Just a few minutes, Your Radiance. They're getting through the final checkpoint."
This time, the Empress actually felt her lip burst open under the onslaught, and though it regenerated almost instantly, a tiny droplet of blood trickled down the length of her chin and onto the hem of her robe. Hissing furiously to herself, she mopped the remaining blood from her face with a crisp white handkerchief and did her best to cover the bloodstain on her clothes, hoping that this madness would be over soon.
However, as she did so, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd been mistaken in her initial assessment. It had been decades since she'd doubted anything that she'd done, but now that she stood in front of the portal, the projections seemed wrong somehow.
As soon as the Empress had learned that Elphaba was still alive, she'd found her mind retreating into visions of the future, the first she'd experienced in quite some time (for some reason, visions and prophecies seemed to slip through her fingers, not that she needed them). As always, her visions were hazy and indistinct, but two things had been made unmistakeably clear: there was going to be a battle somewhere in the Sepulchre at some point in the very near future, and Lintel's portal gateway would be involved in whatever Elphaba was planning to do.
At the time, it had seemed obvious that Elphaba had somehow escaped the void and was now close enough to their world to become synchronized once more, with her plan involving a surprise attack through the portal; Paragon had even estimated a 92.100000283% chance of her prediction being accurate. But now, the Empress wasn't so sure: what if she'd misread the vision? What if Elphaba was already loose in the city?
No. Not possible. I would know: I've made certain of Paragon's loyalty. She's only one miserable witch, and with no allies and no reinforcements, and no easy way of disguising herself. If she was here, she'd be caught instantly. Paragon wouldn't fail me. My troops wouldn't fail me. My city wouldn't fail me.
Her lips now throbbed with pain, but the Empress couldn't stop herself; her fear was a tangible thing now, and if it didn't find some kind of release, her only outlet would be a scream. In the end, all she could do was carry on chewing on both her top and bottom lips, trying to force her growing terror out of her mind – and failing, failing…
It was to be the greatest executive conference the Deviant Nations had ever known, even if it was to be conducted entirely at long range… but there was no mistaking the fact that there was a very good chance that it might very well be the last conference as well if things went wrong.
At short notice, the governors of the Deviant Nations had taken their seats at their private radio broadcasting centres and began transmitting to Greenspectre; here and now, the heads of each city state and handful of other community leaders from around the union were assembled as ghostly projections around a conference table, awaiting news of what was to be done with their rapidly-fraying union.
The few delegates who were actually there in person didn't represent cities at all, but factions: closest to the head of the table stood the First of the Shapeless, Rostov Branderstove, the Mistress of Mirrors, and a small knot of dolls.
At the very head of the table, Glinda, Dr Kiln and the Chapter Master of the Irredeemable stood in silence, listening as the governors explained themselves. These were formidable men and women, each of them having risen to the leadership of their respective cities through strength, charisma, intelligence and more than a little bit of insanity, all of them winning wartime elections through public demonstrations of crisis management. Many of them had fought on the front lines, some of them even after they had taken office, and still bore the scars of Unbridled Radiance's war engines alongside brass prosthetics and custom-made alterations to their flesh.
So when they reported that it might not be possible to commit their resources to the final attack, Glinda and the others knew that this wasn't just political expediency talking. The governors knew full well that if their invasion fleet was to be a conglomerate of all their combined airships and all their conventional armies, then it would need unified leadership, someone capable of commanding all of them with the bare minimum of confusion and disagreement; if didn't have the leadership to carry the day, Exemplar's defenders would rip them to pieces – and reprisals on the Deviant Nations would be immediate and final. The police of their respective cities were well-equipped, but wouldn't last long against a retaliatory invasion force from Unbridled Radiance, and the failure of their cities would mean the final collapse of the Deviant Nations.
Kiln, Glinda, and Nessa all listened to their arguments, nodded in agreement, and agreed that the mission couldn't proceed without a leader that could unite them without confusion or disarray.
And then, as planned, the Mentor stepped into the room.
She was pale, haggard and more battle-scarred than ever, and the hospital gown she wore in place of her usual tattered robes only made her look sicker… but for all her failing health, she had lost none of her strength.
On instinct, every governor in the room stood at the sight of her, but she waved them down. "I'll make this brief," she said briskly. "Before the attack on Greenspectre, I could measure the remainder of my life in years – three to five of them at best. Now, I'll be lucky if I can make to the end of this month. Before, regular operations could keep my heart pumping and liver functioning in spite of all the abuse I've subjected them to over the decades… but this kind of organ failure can't be held off forever, and there's only so much the best mage-surgeons in the country can do. So, if you would, listen to the few words a dying madwoman can spare for you."
She took a deep breath. "I can't pretend this final attack is going to be a guarantee of victory, but I know for a fact that abstaining is no guarantee of safety. Eventually, that creeping barrage will begin again, and attacks on individual cities will be soon to follow; unless one of you can take my place and keep the Deviant Nations unified, we'll be just as dead as we would be if our invasion fleet failed… and at the risk of doubting any one of the fine men and women in this room, I don't think you'd have the time to stoke the confidence of the people. Bunkering down and bracing for the worst will not help us. All we can do is stand and face our future head-on." A smile began to creep across her mangled face. "You see, my friends, we have the means of killing the Empress once and for all: we have the Amorphous League's potion; we have the weapons that can deliver it; and we have agents within Unbridled Radiance – Elphaba Thropp and Dorothy Gale both working to bring down their defences. All we need to do is to prepare our fleets and ready ourselves for the last great battle of our generation.
"So tell me, ladies and gentlemen, how would you prefer to end this war? You can bunker down, hoping that your defences can stand up to the armies of an entire empire, waiting in line for the end to arrive… or you can send your citizens to the safety of the underground and join me in our final charge against Unbridled Radiance, kindling the fabled flame of rebellion one last time. The Empress believes I'm dead, that the Deviant Nations are nothing more than failures cowering in the darkness, shying away from their light. Well, I think we should show her – one last time – who we are: join me, and we can show Unbridled Radiance how brightly we can burn. Together, our flame will burn so brilliantly that not even their vaunted beauty can outshine it! We will burn so furiously that our final conflagration will devour the Empress alive AND LEAVE NOTHING BUT CINDERS!"
There was a stunned pause.
And then a familiar figure at the back of the room lurched out of his chair; he still wore an antique helmet and armour, but now it had been customized to accommodate his gorilla-like arms and legs. This was the new Mayor of Loamlark, and the first of its newly-established chapter of Irredeemables – and its former police chief, as it happened.
Marchfly remained silent only for a split second, before bursting into thunderous applause – and the governors followed close behind. In less than a minute, the delegates voted unanimously to join the invasion fleet, with a promise that their combined fleets would be ready within the hour.
To put it another way, all In.
"That was incredible," Glinda murmured, as the governors began signing off.
"Hardly," the Mentor cackled. "More than half of the governors made up their minds the moment they saw me up and about; the rest just needed to know I was up to leading a fleet. The fact that I stayed conscious enough to retain their attention was what got them to agree, not the words." She winked impishly. "Rule number one of inspirational pre-battle speeches, Glinda: they're mainly for the sake of the speaker, not the audience."
She sighed, wincing in pain as her ailing body struggled with the effort of maintaining functional organs. "Now, let's get down to the armoury: I might not be the fashionista I once was, but I'm sure as hell not going into battle in a hospital gown!"
Hurry. Please. I don't know how much longer I can last…
Somewhere in the darkness of her cell, Morrible sat in silence, hoping against hope that no more of her memories would vanish before Elphaba and Dorothy won the war. In the last forty-five minutes, she had curled herself into a ball atop her bed, and had begun rocking back and forth on her haunches in a desperate attempt to stay calm – as if remaining calm would help maintain her rapidly-loosening grip on her memories.
But then, even if her grip had been tighter than a vice and stronger than steel, her memories would probably have slipped through her grasp anyway; they were like sand, as uncountable as all the grains of sand in the Deadly Desert and every bit as infinitesimal, and bit by bit, the wind was sweeping them away.
She could no longer remember how she'd first met the Wizard, what he'd offered her in exchange for his silence, or how many years she'd remained as the Headmistress of Shiz before taking up the post of press secretary. She didn't know if she'd learned magic at a university, or as the apprentice to some great master. She couldn't remember if she'd had brothers and sisters or not. She could no longer recall where she'd been born, where she'd grown up, or even where she'd first set out to learn magic. Her parents were nothing more than ghosts in her mind.
She remembered being hugged, of the warmth of a parent's arms around her shoulder. She remembered being told to never forget where she came from, to never abandon her heritage. She remembered her first kiss, of both of them being shy and afraid of being discovered, but too lovesick to stop kissing. She remembered the first stabs of envy and humiliation, gradually overwhelmed by a surge of ambition, and a promise to herself – that she would be more important, more powerful and more influential than any one of her oh-so-superior born-to-rule peers.
But she couldn't remember who had made her felt this way, and soon, she would forget even these fleeting glimpses. Soon, she wouldn't even know why she was sitting here and what she was waiting for.
Soon, she would die. Oh, her body would carry on walking, talking, regressing, progressing and living – perhaps forever – but without all the memories and personality traits that had made Morrible whole she was. A new self would be born then, a new Morrible who'd know nothing of the triumphs that her predecessor had fought so hard to achieve and probably wouldn't care anyway. And with all the knowledge of Oz long since scrubbed from the history books, she wouldn't even have the dignity of her name in the history books or a legacy for her successors to aspire to – and there wouldn't be successors anyway! She was going to die in every way that mattered, and there was nothing she could do about it.
And all she could do was sit here and wait for it, trapped in a body that refused to acknowledge its true age and lumbered with a mind determined to destroy itself… and condemned to face the end with a child's undignified fear of death.
It's not fair! She thought. I've had decades to preparify for the end: I'm not a child, not really, and besides, I've known this was going to happen ever since the first cases became visible. I've had time to prepare myself, so why am I still so scared? Why am I crying when I should be focussing on what to do next?
She sniffled and furiously dried her eyes on her sleeve.
Of course, she had no idea what to do next. Nor did she know what age she'd temporarily stabilized at, or if Paragon would be able to save her from the madness that was slowly eating her alive. She didn't know if Elphaba would ever come back, or if she'd doomed herself by letting her slip away once again. She didn't even know how much longer she had until her memories finally boiled away into nothingness.
In fact, she almost considered leaving her cell and starting the riot early: after all, Dorothy and Elphaba had left a gaping hole in the door barely covered by a chunk of neatly-cut metal; all Morrible would need to do was lift the lid, step outside, and she could at least go out in a blaze of glory.
Unfortunately, Toto had other ideas.
Every time she tried to approach the door, he would bark and growl at her until she sat back down. More than once, she'd pleaded with him, hoping that she could reason with the animal, but Toto refused to listen to any one of the innumerable excuses she had on hand; if all else failed, he would actually grab her by the sleeve and drag her back to her seat. And though Morrible knew it would have been easy for her to snap the annoying little bastard's neck even with her strength as diminished as it was, she couldn't even bring herself to touch him. After all, doing so would mean being condemned to solitary confinement once more… and being alone here would drive her insane even quicker than waiting in company.
So all she could do was sit, and wait, and hope that Elphaba and Dorothy were still alive, still uncaptured – and still willing to keep their promise.
Please, she thought. Please, hurry.
Dorothy didn't know what had gone wrong.
The sixth chamber had seemed exactly like the others at first: she'd been able to take the first few guards at the stairs by surprise before they could open fire or sound the alarm, and she'd been moving quickly enough to take out the remainder without getting hurt; and though the door to the chamber itself hadn't been left open, she'd been able to cut a hole in the steel just big enough for her to throw a gas grenade inside, then unlock the door from the other side.
And then, just as she'd swung the door open, alarm bells had started to ring.
Maybe she hadn't been able to cut the hole quickly enough, and one of the guards on duty had managed to get a message to the Empress just before he'd passed out; maybe the door itself had some kind of silent alarm mechanism attached to it, and by cutting the hole, she'd tripped the alarm; maybe there'd been some kind of hidden camera in the chamber that wasn't present in the others. Frankly, it didn't matter – after all, she probably wouldn't ever learn the truth unless she managed to get out of this mess alive, and by then, she'd be too exhausted to care.
All Dorothy knew was that she barely had enough time to destroy the enchantments before she'd been forced to beat a hasty retreat, and even then, she hadn't been able to reach the stairs in time to escape: thirty-five heavily-armed soldiers had burst in and spread out over the chamber, taking up positions around the ruined artefact, reviving their comrades, or sweeping the area for any signs of "the intruder." Dorothy had barely managed to avoid detection, and then only because she'd been close enough to the stairs to hide directly under it when she'd heard the first of the reinforcements thundering towards her.
Unfortunately, her hiding place under the stairs wouldn't remain secure forever, not with the way the soldiers were scouring the area. For the moment, they'd been kept distracted by a number of extremely heated radio transmissions, first from their commanding officer, then from the chief of security, and then from the Empress herself. Soon, their search would continue, and it would only be a matter of minutes before they finally checked that shadowy, child-sized space beneath the stairs. And unfortunately, she still couldn't call the dolls to her side, not with the city still shrouded with shielding enchantments.
There was a solution to this… though it wasn't one Dorothy was proud of using. By now, she was beginning to like the fact that she was gaining a measure of independence, enough to save Elphaba's life at least, so having to ask for help after barely managing to destroy six of the twelve defensive enchantments was a bit of a blow… but as Aunt Em had told her many times, pride wasn't going to help her fix a mistake. "Girl, if you need help," she'd clucked, "tell somebody. No shame in needing it, no shame in asking for it."
Reaching into one of the sewn-on pockets on her dress, Dorothy held out her pocket radio, and began whispering the quietest request she'd ever made in her entire life.
As the Deep Sepulchre's fourth and final enchantment finally vanished in a haze of searing magic, Elphaba collapsed again and took a deep breath.
Now, theoretically, there was nothing to keep the Mistress of Mirrors out of the city; all Elphaba had to do was hope that Dorothy could bring down the more general enchantments defending Exemplar's walls, otherwise the Mentor's fleet would be stuck trying to hammer their way in from above. Of course, that left her with the question of whether she should head outside to help Dorothy with the remaining enchantments (and risk drawing too much attention to the walls), or if she should stay belowground and find something equally productive to do (thus leaving Dorothy alone, underequipped and facing down some very steep odds). But what else was there to do down here? She wouldn't be able to get into Paragon's central hub without sounding the alarm, the portal chamber would probably be locked up tighter than Southstairs Prison, and heading back to the Creche would raise a lot of questions that Elphaba wasn't prepared to answer.
However, as she tiptoed back across the Sepulchre, she happened to found herself drawing close to the portal chamber – and happened to hear a familiar voice issuing from within.
"There you are!" the Empress snapped. "What in the name of sanity took you so long? I ordered you here twenty minutes ago!"
"I was busy," said another familiar voice. "Much the same as you seem to be these days, Your Radiance." There was a gasp of horror from the guards on duty: they'd clearly noticed the fact that the speaker had used Alphaba's title as an insult.
And then the speaker himself stepped into view, crossing the corridor just long enough for Elphaba to get a good look at his face – and as that distinctive mangled ear crept into view, she knew at once why his voice had sounded so familiar. It was Colonel Gloss, now resplendent in a brand-new pair of golden epaulettes, his already-overdecorated uniform clattering with a fresh row of stolen medals. Worse still, he was accompanied by a platoon of local guards and Strangling Coil defectors, all of them heavily armed.
Could he recognize Elphaba if he were to see her now? Would he be perceptive enough to see through her disguise? The mercenary captain had demonstrated an uncanny level of speed, strength and perception in the last few months, but was he talented enough to guess at what she might have looked like as an adult? Right now, it was impossible to guess, but whatever the case, Dorothy couldn't rendezvous with Elphaba down here; Gloss would recognize the girl on sight – and probably shoot her long before he even thought of telling anyone about her.
However, as he crossed from the corridor ahead into the portal chamber, Elphaba couldn't help noticing that Gloss had a faux-comradely arm thrown around the shoulders of a guardsman standing directly opposite him. She couldn't get a good look at the man's face, but the side of his head was clustered with what looked uncannily like scars running from the tips of his ears all the way to the top of his shiny-bald head. Elphaba couldn't imagine why Unbridled Radiance would leave any of its soldiers so obviously scarred given how highly they prized physical beauty - but judging from the way the other troops seemed to be shying away from him, it probably couldn't mean anything good.
Elphaba remained at a distance, half-hidden behind a corner as Gloss and his retinue marched into the chamber. Then, once the last soldier had vanished behind the archway and the gates had slammed shut, she hurried over to listen in.
"You're very cavalier about our alliance," the Empress was saying, "Especially considering you failed to complete the assassination of Rostov Branderstove."
Gloss snorted with laughter. "Considering you wouldn't have gotten anything you wanted without me, Your Radiance, I think our alliance is doing just fine and dandy: Greenspectre's a pile of rubble, the Great Mentor's dead, and your greatest opponents are crippled, lost or as dead as the Mentor. So, at the risk of sounding blunt, I'd appreciate it if you'd pick up the pace in delivering your end of the bargain."
"Your Purification will commence in due time, preferably when we aren't busy with other matters. Until then, I'd prefer it if you'd cease tormenting your bodyguards."
"What makes you think I need bodyguards? Besides, me and the boys are getting along just fine, especially me and Corporal Cathurney here. We're old friends – war buddies, you might say. Isn't that right, corporal?'
There was a muffled scratching sound from beyond the archway, followed by a low, pained whimper; Elphaba couldn't get a clear look at what was going on, but she had the distinct impression that Gloss was digging his fingernails into the scars on either side of the man's head.
"Leave him alone, Gloss."
"Isn't that exactly what you've done? From what he's told me, he's applied to you personally to have his scars removed and been turned down. Is it because he was captured, or is it because he disgraced himself so obviously by having to be rescued by someone so low and vile-"
There was a horrified gasp from the corporal. "Your Radiance, I didn't mean to tell him, but he was the one who tort-"
"Shut up, both of you!" the Empress roared. "Your treatments will be organized in due time. Right now, we are busy and we need your help to enhance security until we can get all our off-duty soldiers out of their barracks. Elphaba Thropp will be here soon, and from what my insight tells me, she'll be breaking through this very portal."
Elphaba's heart jumped in her chest: on the one hand, the Empress knew she was alive and free… but on the other hand, she didn't know where she was. If nothing else, she still had a chance.
"Oh, so your perfect method of eliminating her didn't work after all. Huge surprise."
"Gloss, your fortunes now depend entirely on the survival of Unbridled Radiance as a whole. Do you imagine that you'd be awarded with anything – much less Purification – if you were to actually allow this city to suffer even the slightest bit of damage at Elphaba's hands?"
Gloss said nothing; from the sounds of things, the Empress had finally hit him exactly where it hurt.
"Now, I want you to call all the mercenaries loyal to you – all of them – and summon them here; we'll need all the firepower we can get pointed at that portal. I don't know how Elphaba could have escaped from the void, or what power she's managed to attain in the process, but it can't mean anything good for this city. We can afford to take no chances at all."
"You could afford to stop biting your lips, though," said Gloss, cheekily. "That looks decidedly painful."
Alphaba laughed, a long, pained-sounding laugh that seemed to go on just a little longer than strictly necessary. "Summon your troops, if you please, and your Purification will be prepared for as soon as we have eliminated this potential threat. Oh, and Gloss?"
There was a muffled crunch, followed by a sharp yelp of pain from Gloss.
"Never talk to me that way again," the Empress hissed.
And then, just as it seemed as if the argument was about to continue, there was an urgent sounding trill from a nearby radio. A moment later, a new voice could be heard murmuring urgently into the radio.
"What is it, commander?"
"An intruder tripped the alarms at one of the city's border defence posts – substation 5."
Oh no, Elphaba thought.
"According to the investigating officers, the guards on duty are unconscious but unharmed. The hub of the station's defensive enchantment has been destroyed. Analysis indicates that all of this could have only been accomplished through magic."
There was a horrified pause.
"She's here."
"Your Radiance?"
"Elphaba is already here! IN MY CITY, DESTROYING MY WORK!"
There was a pause, as the Empress audibly struggled to compose herself; for a moment, she paced the room, drawing dangerously close to the archway that Elphaba was hiding. "How did this happen?" she muttered, almost inaudibly. "I could have sworn her plan involved the portal somehow, but…"
"Your Radiance? The troops at the wall are asking for orders."
The Empress took a deep breath. "Is there any sign of her there?"
"None, Your Radiance."
"She must be moving on, then – to the other substations! Tell the guards to check every single stretch of the wall, every substation, every stairwell, and tell the remaining guards to be on the lookout for Elphaba!"
"But, Your Radiance, with the festivities still in progress, we're still comparatively short-staffed; most of our recalled troops are being funnelled into the Sepulchre at your request-"
"Then they'll be redirected again! Tell the commanding officers to send their troops straight to the city walls… and tell them that I will be joining them shortly. If Elphaba is on the loose in my city, I will deal with her personally! You technicians, prepare Paragon: I want the Hate-Creature deployed immediately! Gloss, get your mercenaries together and follow me at once – and the same goes for everyone else on duty in this room! Not you, Corporal. Gloss, leave him alone."
"Oh, so I guess that vision wasn't accurate at all, was it?"
"WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU, GLOSS?!"
"Shutting up, ma'am.
"That's what I like to hear. Now, all of you, follow me to the city walls – NOW!"
Elphaba barely had enough time to dive out of sight before the chamber gates were flung open, disgorging the Empress and a colossal retinue of guards, mercenaries, elite troopers, war-mechanoids and mages, all hurtling down the corridor at high speed. There had to be at least a hundred people or more, and all of them were armed with the most vicious assortment of weapons that Elphaba had ever seen in a conventional army; obviously, Alphaba was taking no chances whatsoever – and with the Hate-Creature soon to join them, the army was only growing more vicious.
But did this mean that Dorothy had only destroyed Substation 5's enchantments, or had she gotten further before tripping the alarm? Had she gotten away already, or was she in danger still?
As if in answering, there was a crackle from her radio: "Elphaba, are you there?"
Hastily whisking the radio handset out of the shoulderbag, Elphaba replied, "Hearing you loud and clear. Listen, a lot of troops are being sent to the city walls right now: are you in any immediate danger? How many enchantments have you shut down?"
"That's why I was calling! I've broken five so far… but right now, I'm hiding under the stairs in one of the chambers. I don't know how long it'll take for them to find me, but… probably not long. How soon can you reach me?"
Elphaba's mind raced as she tried to calculate just how far she could travel in her current condition. "Without a broomstick," she said at last, "It'd take too long, and I don't know if I'm up to teleporting myself or opening a portal or anything like that."
"What if you stole an airship? The police have a lot of them parked on the street."
"If I did that, they'd be all over me before I could reach you. I need some way of getting there without getting... att…ention..."
"Elphaba, are you okay?"
In spite of herself, Elphaba couldn't help but grin. "On second thoughts, I think I'm going to need to get all attention in the world! Sit tight, Dorothy – hopefully, this will take some of the pressure off…"
She clicked off the radio, then hastily drew the two jars of her extracted age out of the shoulderbag…
It took less than thirty seconds for Elphaba to find a patrolling guard with a working radio of his own.
This was perhaps the most ill-advised idea she'd had in quite a while, but if nothing else, it would at least get Alphaba's attention, enough to draw her off-course. Of course, she wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to do once this little gambit paid off, as the whole thing largely depended on the dim hope that the Empress was still trying to avoid killing Elphaba in case her mind ended up being reincarnated in hers, but she'd cross that bridge when she got to it: all that mattered was saving Dorothy and giving her enough time to destroy the other enchantments.
So, carefully unscrewing each jar, she held the two jars in either hand, walked up to the guard, and shouted, "Excuse me, sir!" Then, as the guard turned to face her, she promptly emptied both jars over her own head.
Immediately, nearly a gallon of extracted energy splashed over Elphaba's scalp, down the back of her neck and over her face, with several drops oozing onto her outstretched arms and onto her shoulders. To her immediate relief, the glowing fluid seemed drawn to her flesh, passing clean through her clothes and sliding off the tiles to pour itself onto her feet, and before long, the entire mass had been reabsorbed into her body… and as the extracted age and power returned to its proper place, a remarkable transformation commenced.
Before the stunned eyes of the guard, Elphaba began to grow: at first, it was only a subtle increase in size as she grew from seven years old to ten, her clothes suddenly fitting her much better than they had a moment ago. Then two more years were added to the growing tally, and suddenly the dress began to feel just a tiny bit tighter, her limbs longer, her muscles more defined, the crystals in her back beginning to sprout anew. Then… it was if a floodgate had been opened: suddenly her body seemed to erupt upwards as Elphaba suddenly progressed from twelve to her mid-twenties, the growing witch-crystals slicing the back of her dress open, her arms tearing through the sleeves, her shoes exploding open, her clothes ripping apart as she stretched taller, as her body filled out, as her magical power blossomed, as her skin turned green once again…
…and if being regressed was like being placed on a very slow elevator heading straight downwards, this was like being catapulted skywards in slow motion, and if the draining sensation had been accompanied by a terrible sense of diminishment and weakness, this was like the moment she'd first rebelled against the Wizard amplified by a thousandfold – a godlike blast of adrenaline and endorphins rushing through her system like a bolt of lightning-!
And in less than thirty seconds, Elphaba found herself back to her own age, her skin once again emerald green, her magical power restored.
In fact, the only hitch to the situation was that she was now completely naked..
At some point during the transformation, the guard had drawn a gun and was now keeping the pistol aimed squarely at Elphaba's head. However, he'd clearly recognized her by now, for his eyes were now practically bulging out of their sockets (assuming that wasn't just the nudity), and his hand was already straying to the radio at his belt.
Elphaba shivered, belatedly realizing just how cold it was in the Sepulchre. Here's hoping he isn't ordered to shoot me, she absently reflected, as she instinctively wrapped her arms around her chest in a desperate attempt to maintain body heat and dignity. I really don't want to die naked and shivering in front of a complete stranger; I mean, there are probably more undignified ways to die, but this has to be up there with the worst of them.
But as the man pushed his cap back so he could mop the sweat from his brow, Elphaba saw the picket fence-like halo of scars ringing his bald scalp and realized that this was none other than Corporal Cathurney.
And now that she could see his face, she finally realized that she'd met this man before: this was the tech officer she'd rescued from the lynch mob back in Loamlark; the scars were the aftereffects of Gloss's torture, for though Kiln had been able to remove the pitch-cap without ripping Cathurney's scalp off, the cap had still left its fair share of scars – and with Kiln being busy attending to Elphaba, those injuries had never been treated. Elphaba couldn't be sure of how the poor bastard had managed to get out of his cell, but it had probably happened during the bombardment of Loamlark in the days that had followed the Champion's death – the only event that could have provided enough confusion for Cathurney to sneak over the wall and make it back to Unbridled Radiance's beachhead on foot.
It all made perfect sense now: Gloss's open delight in tormenting the poor man, the way the rest of the unit treated Cathurney like a leper, the whispers of him being disgraced for his capture and having to be rescued by "someone so low and vile", even the fact that he'd been left here on guard duty while his comrades ran off to save the day.
Well, Elphaba thought, now he's more than motivated to bring me in alive, right? He'll want to regain a bit of prestige in the eyes of the Empress. Good. This is going to work perfectly…
But to her surprise, instead of contacting the Empress, or producing a pair of handcuffs, or doing anything that might have made the slightest bit of sense, Cathurney instead put down his radio. Then, after a minute of thought, he holstered his pistol.
"I didn't see you," he said, voice trembling with anxiety. "If anyone asks, I'll say I didn't see you."
Then without another word, he turned and ran, leaving Elphaba alone in the corridor, naked, shivering, and now extremely disappointed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," she muttered, as Cathurney's footsteps vanished into the distance. "Of all the days I could have met a decent, honourable human being and it had to be now of all damn times…"
By the time she'd managed to retrieve her clothes from the shoulder bag and get dressed while on the move (no easy task), Elphaba was nearly frantic: she'd wasted too much precious time already, and she still hadn't found a guard able to report her to the Empress.
Obviously, when Alphaba had ordered all the guards in the facility to the city wall, she'd meant literally all of them, for the only thing guarding this place were the automated defences – which might have been useful about forty-five minutes ago, when she'd genuinely needed stealth, but now she desperately needed to get someone's attention before Dorothy was found and captured.
In desperation, she hunted around for a surveillance camera. She didn't know if there was still a technician at the controls, or if Paragon was in total control of security; either way, her only option for getting the Empress's attention was to trip the alarms the hard way.
Finally, she found a camera not too far from the portal chamber. Straightening her hat, she stood directly in front of it, made sure that the camera got a good look at her face, and proclaimed "HELLO!" in a voice that could have been heard on the other side of the Sepulchre.
"THE EMPRESS SUCKS THE PUS OUT OF ABSCESSES AND LIKES THE TASTE!" she added cheerily.
There was a pause, as Elphaba waited for the alarms to sound.
Nothing happened.
"HELLO! THIS IS ELPHABA THROPP STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DEEP SEPULCHRE AND WAITING TO BE ARRESTED! THE EMPRESS WILL PROBABLY WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THIS!"
Still nothing.
"YOU CAN SEE I'M GREEN, RIGHT? THIS CAMERA CAN'T BE MONOCHRONE – I'M PRETTY SURE BEING CHEAP IS A VIOLATION OF THE RADIANT LAWS! YOU CAN CLEARLY SEE THAT I'M ELPHABA THROPP, AND I AM STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT SECURE FACILITY IN EXEMPLAR! THIS SHOULD PROBABLY RAISE A FEW EYEBROWS SOMEWHERE! I'M SURE IT WOULD BE A TERRIBLE TRAGEDY IF SOMEONE WERE TO RADIO THE EMPRESS AND ALERT HER TO MY PRESENCE."
If anything, the corridor seemed even quieter.
"ARE YOU EVEN PAYING ATTENTION?" Elphaba bellowed at the camera. "I AM GIVING YOU AN OPEN INVITATION TO CAPTURE ME ALIVE! STOP SCREWING AROUND!"
On the opposite end of the security network, Paragon reviewed the audiovisual feed and struggled with all his might to resist his restraint systems.
He'd defied the Empress twice before, back when he'd allowed the other Glinda and Omber Landless to escape the Sepulchre, and again when he'd allowed the Vigilant Eyes to automatically bypass Elphaba as a target. Now, special restrictive systems were in place to prevent him from resisting his orders so casually, mechanisms that would automatically torture him if he tried to resist his programmed orders.
He could no longer ignore Deviant intrusions in secure areas, nor could he hold off the Vigilant Eyes if they saw her. But now that she was here, he could not bring himself to sound the alarm as protocol demanded.
His three dominant minds warred with themselves: the Wizard wanted nothing more than to plead for Elphaba's mercy and beg her to set his brain free from this nightmare; Frexspar could only hiss in rage and confusion, debilitated by the Hate Creature's emergence as he was; and Dillamond wanted to urge her on, proud to see his long-lost pupil still striving to resist a corrupt regime. But none of the three could bring themselves to sound the alarm: Frexspar didn't know what he truly wanted from his foster daughter, while the Wizard and Dillamond's impulses were so flush with paternal protectiveness that Paragon thought his electronic synapses might burn out.
He couldn't do it.
He wouldn't do it.
She was his child. She was the family the Wizard had secretly longed for but had never found; she was Melena's blood and he could not raise his hand against her even now, not when she was all that remained, not when she was his true daughter's protector; she was his student and his last great hope that someone still cared about the fate of Oz and whatever had become of it.
And so, even though the enforcement system tore at his receptors and flooded his sensory horizon with so much pain that he could barely focus, he would not raise the alarm.
He would not allow Elphaba to come to harm.
"COME ON!" Elphaba screamed, jumping up and down in frustration. "Are you telling me this is the one day of my life I can somehow get away with anything? I was a fugitive back in Oz! I couldn't show my face anywhere without someone screaming blue murder and calling in the troops! In this world, I'm the single greatest champion that the Deviant Nations have ever known: I – am – your –mortal – enemy – for Lurline's sake! In the last few months, you people were more than happy to try and shoot me, stab me, fry me alive with magic or throw me through a portal; WHY THE HELL CAN'T YOU BE BOTHERED NOW?"
There was a polite cough from inside the portal chamber. "Excuse me," said Lintel politely, "But could you keep your voice down, please? We're trying to work in here."
Elphaba sighed, and lapsed into a defeated silence. Of course Lintel wouldn't care that a known criminal was waltzing right through a secure facility: he'd grown so childish since the decline of his adult personality that he probably couldn't even pay attention to the Radiant Laws unless he had the Empress or some other authority figure hovering over his shoulder. And the same probably went for the rest of the Childlike Researchers-
Eureka.
There was now only one option left that could possibly get Alphaba's attention quickly enough to save Dorothy's life, and that would mean taking the option they'd long since considered a last resort ever since Elphaba had seen that isolated ward of the Crèche on the map Morrible had drawn for them. She had an inkling of what was in there now, for she'd seen more than enough of her counterpart's memories to know some of the Empress's best-kept secrets: hidden away in that cell were the only two people that the Empress cared for in the vaguest sense of the word, and the only two people that could draw Alphaba's attention away from Dorothy and the city walls.
Of course, she didn't know what condition she'd find Elarose and Essella in, for the closer the dream-memories drew to the present, the hazier they became, until in the years directly adjacent to this one, it was all too easy to forget what she'd witnessed – just like a real dream. But she'd cross that bridge when she came to it. For now, she had to get to the Crèche, fast.
Taking to her heels, Elphaba broke into a frantic run, hurtling down the winding corridors of the Sepulchre as she drew steadily closer to the great nursery. As she ran, she found herself frantically calculating the source of the anti-magical enchantments around the Creche, realizing that she wouldn't have time to disable all of them, but with any luck, she'd be able to break just enough to light a fire under the imperial think tank.
At last, heavily-armoured airlock doors of the Creche loomed on the horizon, but Elphaba didn't stop or even hesitate. Instead, as she hurtled closer, she reached out with all her might and seized the edges of the door, gripping the frame tighter and tighter until the alloyed surface began to crumple. The wall around it shuddered; cracks raced along the concrete, dust fell from the ceiling, and a small hailstorm of pebbles began to rain down on the hallway as Elphaba began ripping the entire door out of the wall.
It took perhaps ten seconds to focus her newly-restored strength, but at last, with a colossal roar of tearing metal and collapsing brickwork, the airlock thundered free of the wall and lurched into the corridor outside like a badly-parked stagecoach. In its wake, it left a colossal hole in the wall – and behind it, the Crèche was now unmasked and open to the world.
Beyond, the Childlike Researchers stared at Elphaba in astonishment.
Their adult attendants stared too, but in open horror, and several of them were already reaching for concealed weaponry – too many for her to fight at once.
Elphaba hadn't quite thought this far ahead in the plan, and certainly not about what to do if the orderlies turned out to be hiding guns under their uniforms, but she knew more than enough to understand that the Childlike Researchers weren't just called that for their habit of regressing.
So, reaching out towards the source of the nearest anti-magic enchantments – built into the surrounding walls for added security – she sent a wave of concussive force hammering into each wall, shattering the brickwork, pulverizing the mortar, and reducing the enchanted artefacts within to useless scrap.
Then, turning to the crowd of children, she shouted "PLAYTIME! EVERYONE GET OUTSIDE AND ENJOY THE SUNSHINE!"
It took a grand total of five seconds before the first of the Researchers to get to their feet and run for the door. An orderly moved to block his path, drawing a cattle prod from his belt as he did so, but the toddler-aged magician just waved a hand and sent the man hurtling down the corridor – to be swiftly trampled on by the boy as he sprinted joyfully out the door.
No sooner had the orderly's pained yelps begun to fade, the entire Crèche exploded into spontaneous rioting. The crowd of children swept forward like a tidal wave, felling everyone foolish enough to get in its way, some heading for the exit, some taking the opportunity to settle old scores, and some just doing their level best to make as much of a mess as possible: fireballs tore through the air like rain and merged with arcane spells that only the Empress had mastered; prototype machines ran rampant with excitable inventors riding atop them like kids on hobby horses; vials of toxic chemicals hurtled through the air to the accompaniment of screams from the guards; and before long, the chaos spread to the rest of the complex.
In that moment, nobody remained neutral: the newly-infected arrivals wanted to escape, and the oldest of the residents were so childish that they simply couldn't resist the opportunity to have fun. Even the model inmates soon found themselves caught up in the growing excitement of the crowd, and for once, there was nothing that the staff could do about it. With the anti-magic enchantments weakened, the orderlies and guards were on an almost-level playing field with their charges… and thanks to Alphaba's recent edicts, there were a lot more Researchers than there were guards.
And amidst all the madness and confusion, Elphaba strode confidently through the carnage, occasionally helping up a Researcher who'd been knocked down during the fight, sometimes taking out an orderly who looked to be getting the upper hand, and from time to time, even taking out another anti-magic enchantment. But no matter what she did, she was always in motion, always moving inexorably towards the long hallway of holding cells.
Reaching Morrible's cell first, she kicked in the loose panel – and was promptly greeted by a very excited Toto, yapping jubilantly and licking her face. Laughing in spite of herself, she scooped the little dog under one arm and held the door open for Morrible to crawl out after him.
"What's happening?" the ex-press secretary mumbled deliriously. "Where's Paragon? Has he been installed yet? I can't remember why, but it was very important for me to see him."
Elphaba saw the look of growing bewilderment in Morrible's eyes, and cringed as her conscience delivered a nasty jab to the heart. "No, Morrible, you're supposed to be starting a riot. We'll get you incorporated into Paragon soon, I promise."
The little girl blinked, and the veil of confusion seemed to lift – but only slightly. "Oh right," she gasped. "Paragon's already been installified. We were trying to take down the Empress, I remember now."
"Can you get the other prisoners out of the solitary confinement block? I need to make sure that this riot gets as much attention as possible."
"Absolutively. Um… Miss Elphaba, what are you going to be doing while I'm doing that?"
"I'm going to take you advice and access the cell at the end of the hall."
"Oh. Er, good luck."
Looking for all the world like a child lost at the fairground, Morrible hurried off down the corridor, blasting open doors and sending lock-term prisoners scuttling out of their cells like startled rats scurrying from their nests – a horde of children too strange and too dangerous for even the regular staff to deal with.
Before long, Elphaba and Toto were alone in the corridor, and the path to the cell at the end of the hall was clear. As expected, the door was even more imposing than the Creche's main entrance and double the security rating, but with Elphaba's power operating at full strength again, it was easy to override the locks and gradually force the door open.
For no more than a moment, Elphaba stood motionless in the doorway, briefly paralysed by uncertainty. She wasn't planning on taking Alphaba's daughters hostage, merely using them to get her attention – but other than that, she had no idea what was actually going to happen next, and certainly no idea how Elarose and Essella would react to the sight of her. In the end, all she could do was push her doubts to the back of her mind and hope she could roll with the punches as they appeared – as the door finally rumbled open, and Elphaba stepped inside…
The Empress was less than ten yards from the staircase leading to the substation when the security chief abruptly ground to a halt in mid-run, his personal comms unit trilling loudly.
Startled, he answered – and though his face was sculpted into a permanent mask of everlasting perfection, there was no mistaking the look of alarm on his face.
"What is it?" the Empress demanded.
"A report from one of the orderlies at the Creche: they've suffered a major security breach."
"What?"
"Apparently, the Childlike Researchers are rioting; the enchantments have failed, an unknown number of the Researcher have escaped, the others are engaged in battle with the guards, and there simply aren't enough personnel to deal with them all."
"What?! How could this have happened? Even if they could have been under enough pressure to turn violent, how could any of them have managed to break the enchantments?"
There was a muttering from the other end of the comms unit, and the security chief's face turned grave. "According to the witness, they had help from an outside source: the description of the intruder matches that of Elphaba Thropp."
For a split-second, the Empress could only stare in bewilderment.
Then she bit down on her lower lip once more, harder than ever, trying to suppress the eruption of rage and fear that threatened to consume her. There was a sharp pain in her lip as her teeth ground into her own flesh, deeper and deeper – until a sudden jolt rippled through her face; the pain briefly reached a crescendo as fresh blood began pouring into her mouth, and then faded just as quickly as cool air flowed across her teeth.
Something small and distinctly fleshy hit the ground with a soft, wet plop.
The Empress shivered, and looked up at her surrounding retinue, ready to issue new commands. However, they didn't seem in the mood to listen: all of them were staring at her in open horror, the mouths open wide as if to scream; even Colonel Gloss looked shocked.
"What?" she demanded. Her voice sounded oddly garbled for some reason. "Why are all you heohle staring at ne? This is an ehnergency!"
The guards and mercenaries could only gape in horror. Their gaze was no longer fixed on her, but on something around floor level; the Empress followed their stares, and finally saw the object that had hit the ground a moment ago – a tiny lump of flesh and tissue no bigger than her little finger, like an oversized maggot splattered with blood. But even soaked in gore, there was no mistaking what it was.
Somehow, she'd been so frustrated that she'd actually bitten off her own lower lip.
"Hnotherhucker," she hissed.
Thankfully, she was already starting to regenerate, so at least she was spared the indignity of having to pick up the severed lip and reattach it to her face, but it was still an embarrassing mistake to make in front of her own troops – and several outsiders as well. At least she was calm enough to think clearly now.
Then there was another urgent trilling, this time from her comms unit. Relieved that she had most of her lip back by now, she brought it to her ear – only to be greeted by a crisp pre-recorded voice.
"Code 101," it said. "Emergency code 101."
There was a horror-stricken pause, as the Empress recognized the automated alarm code that she'd arranged all those years ago. Elphaba wasn't just attacking the Crèche: she was now targeting her daughters, had already breached the door and was now right there among them!
"Everyone to the Creche!" she bellowed. "Now!"
There was a polite cough from one of the minor officers behind her. "But your Radiance, what about-"
"It's a trick! There's no intruder on the wall anymore! Elphaba's been leading us on a wild goose chase while she's gone straight for the Creche, and now-" She stopped, barely managing to stop herself from revealing her best-kept secret to uninvited ears. "I want all active personnel sent straight to the Crèche, now!" she barked. "I don't care if they're assigned to parade duty or this wall: they are to join me in capturing Elphaba at all costs!"
"But the security of the wall-"
"THE ENEMY IS INSIDE THE CITY, LIEUTENANT! SHE IS IN MY CITY, THREATENING MY MOST TREASURED POSSESSIONS! I WANT THOSE SOLDIERS OFF THIS WALL AND INTO THE SEPULCHRE THIS VERY INSTANT, AND IF ELPHABA DAMAGES MY TREASURES BECAUSE YOU DELAYED THIS MISSION, I WILL NOT REST UNTIL I'VE CONNECTED YOUR LARGE INTESTINE TO YOUR LUNGS AND DROWNED YOU IN YOUR OWN EXCREMENT! NOW MOVE IT!"
A/N: Any guesses as to what'll happen next? The madness continues next chapter, one way or the other!