Author's Note

This train is picking up speed. Let's see how far I can get before I poop out. Drop me a note and tell me what you think so far.

-WR

Chapter Seventeen

Wyatt was underwater. Rather, he felt as if he was underwater. Behind his eyelids, the heavily weighted curtains that kept out the light of the world, he drifted in an out of consciousness, as if observing the world from the murky depths of dark water. He struggled to climb out of those depths, clawing mentally at the weightiness of his mental fog, but it felt as if something was continually dragging him down, and drawing a dense blanket over his face. His eyes would flutter open for moments while he fought his own body, and blurred images would shift before his eyes. These disjointed images were exhausting to decipher, and his lids would shut once more, his mind exhausted by the small spurts of exertion he'd forced upon it.

"Cain!" A voice seemed to call faintly, sounding muffled as if passing though water or some other thick barrier.

The distortion in the voice, probably due to his own mental haze, confused Wyatt and he groaned when his attempts to identify the source made his head throb. The voice grew louder despite his half-hearted protests, sounding increasingly desperate in its attempts to gain his attention. Each incremental change in the frequency of the voice was like an axe striking his skull, and the vibration alone was like the blade, widening the gap with every blow. It was too much, and Wyatt was finally able to gain control of his arms enough to draw his hands to the side of his face, where he covered his ears and groaned.

"Please stop," Wyatt muttered through his cottony mouth, his hands still clutching his head as if trying to hold it together.

"General Cain," the voice spoke again, this time quiet and breathless when it replied firmly and urgently, "you have to open your eyes."

Wyatt complied, but only to silence the voice, and when he peered out, it was with an unfocused glare. "Why?" He barked at the form slowly coming into focus before him. It was a face, he realized slowly, and when it finally came into full view, he realized it was too close. He jerked his head backward, away from the overly large face of the curator, and his head thudded unhappily in response to the sudden movement.

"Augh," Wyatt grunted while he slowly scrambled into a seated position on the floor. The room swam around him, and although the light of the fire was low, it still seemed too bright, and caused him to wince. "Great Ozma, what the hell happened?" He finally grumbled, resting his head in his hands while he waited on the spinning to slow.

Artie scoffed darkly as he scooted back on the floor and leaned his back against the ledge, and he shook his head as if uncertain how to answer while he studied the other man seated on the floor by his feet. His bushy eyebrows were knitted in thought, and he finally answered clinically, "What's the last thing you remember, General? Can you tell me your wife's name, or what you had to eat this morning?"

"Damnit Artie," Wyatt barked defensively, "What's with the interrogation, and how the hell did I end up on the floor?"

Artie eyed the scowling man from over the top of his spectacles and replied pointedly, "Answer the question, General."

Wyatt huffed, but complied when he grumbled in irritation, "My wife's name in Dorothy Glenda Gale-Cain, but she goes by DG, and I had a stick of mutton jerky and some coffee for breakfast. In this room, I might add. For grins and giggles, I'll tell you that my name is Wyatt Ulysses Cain, former Tin Man and presently pissed off consort to a princess." He looked up at Artie and met his gaze and added sarcastically, "Satisfied that I'm not a complete headcase, Artie?"

Artie's eyes narrowed while he considered Cain's answer, and he finally shrugged noncommittally in response. With Artie apparently satisfied that Wyatt would not fall into an unconscious state again, silence settled around them for a moment, which allowed Wyatt to gain his bearings in peace. Although his head still throbbed painfully between his ears, he could at least manage to keep himself upright and awake now, even if the light did tempt him to shut his eyes. The longer he sat, the less the light seemed to bother him, and he finally began to examine their predicament through narrowed slits.

This was when he realized that Artie was bound by his wrists and feet, and his hands were tinged with grey. His memory was still somewhat hazy, but he vaguely remembered administering some sort of medicine to Artie before he was knocked unconscious, and he wondered with some curiosity how long it had taken for the antidote to reach its current stage. "How long was I out?" Wyatt asked in a gravely voice while he continued to study Artie.

Artie glanced down at his own hands before he responded with uncertainty, "A few hours at least, Mr. Cain. Do you remember now what happened?"

Wyatt's gaze became unfocused while he considered his answer, and he finally replied hesitantly, "I remember catching Vizor, and I remember taking off to find you when his partner was a no-show. And I remember finding you like that," he paused to gesture at Artie's hands, and his voice became low and disgruntled when he added, "The rest is still a little hazy, but I'm guessing by the nasty bump on my head that it didn't really go according to plan."

Artie chuckled low in response to this, and carefully pushed the spectacles up the bridge of his nose with his stonelike fingers as he continued to hold Cain's gaze. "That's putting it mildly, Mr. Cain. I'm afraid it couldn't have gone much worse, except for the fact that we're still alive. Considering our adversary, and the fact that he is now in possession of the Belt of Roquat, that might not matter for too much longer."

Cain's eyes widened in sudden recognition, and his hands darted to his waist. "DG!" He exclaimed suddenly, as he began to scramble to his feet, stopping suddenly while still on his knees to grasp his head, groaning in pain and frustration when the room began to swim once more.

"Not so fast, Mr. Cain, you've had a rather nasty concussion." Artie growled as Wyatt collapsed back onto the earthen floor. "Better stay put until you can keep your wits about you. You won't be doing the princess any favors in your current state."

Wyatt groaned again. He fought a swoon as he searched the roof above, noting the dark, starry sky peeking through the hole over his head. His mind began to race with scenarios, and he considered the uncomfortable possibility that he had not been meant to act as ferryman at all. Judging by his current state, it seemed more likely now that Roquat had intended to get him out of the way. An uncomfortable knot formed in the pit of his stomach, and he again stared out the hole in the roof above him. If Artie was right about the time, the truck would just be reaching Central City, and he wondered what bringing Vizor within arm's reach of DG and Azkadellia now meant. DG and Az were probably still intending to go through with their original plan, without any knowledge of what had transpired between himself and their ancient rival. Wyatt might have continued to play out scenarios in his mind, but his brain's continued throbbing was very much like a drum and kept him from being able to focus on anything more than the steady thudding that reminded him of the time, counting down menacingly with each beat. Time's slow progression only increased his desperation to reach DG soon, but Artie was right. Until he could stand, he would just have to wait out the anxiety growing in his mind and ignore the waking nightmares that niggled tauntingly at him.

Despite Wyatt's worst fears, things seemed to be going according to plan elsewhere. Having successfully convinced General Jinjur of her lone ability to clear the magical blocks within Vizor's mind, created by the Sorceress annuals past, Azkadellia made her way to the lower levels of the palace flanked by a severe looking Captain Cain and anxious viewer. Raw rung his hands together as they walked hurriedly down a dimly lit hall, and as much as Azkadellia had wanted to ignore the man's concern, she had to admit that she shared his unease despite the firm set of her jaw and steady stride as she swept forward.

"Raw, I need you to stay close to DG no matter what. Whatever happens in that room in the next few minutes, I need to know that I can trust you to do that. Do you understand?" Azkadellia asked the viewer wordlessly, and she stopped just before the threshold of the closed door, eyeing him expectantly before she entered.

Raw growled softly and averted his eyes but nodded slowly despite his discomfort. Neither princess had directly expressed the entirety of their plans, but the viewer had known without asking; the less people who knew what they intended to do, the better, and his performance would be the most convincing of all given his particular set of gifts. Subterfuge was not among the viewer's gifts, he thought nervously, but for DG and Cain, he'd do anything. So, he'd lied when he had told Jeb that he couldn't get through the Sorceress's block, and he knew it wouldn't be the last time tonight that he'd have to employ that tactic. Given the psychic turbulence that he'd recently experienced via the youngest Gale, he hoped it would still be a lie when the time came to give his next performance.

Azkadellia's eyes flashed from Raw to Jeb, and she commanded in a deadly quiet voice, her hand still on the handle, "I need you both to remain outside."

"But Princess – "Jeb began, only to be silenced by Azkadellia, who raised her hand and shook her head.

"Captain, I am well aware of Vizor's abilities, and I cannot deal with him properly if I am also trying to protect you and Master Raw. I assure you; I can take care of myself. I will call for you when you may enter. Is that understood, Captain?" Azkadellia interrupted firmly, her green eyes piercing and her shoulders square and commanding as she spoke.

Jeb's usually defiant stance against the elder princess melted away in the moment that she addressed him with such regal firmness. His eyes became quickly downcast to those of the future queen, and he became almost penitent when he replied to the ground, "Yes ma'am. Understood."

Azkadellia's hand trembled only slightly on the handle. She hoped Jeb hadn't seen it, but she knew Raw could feel it. Acknowledging either the apprehension creeping up on her, or Raw's knowledge of the events unfolding before them would only serve to complicate matters, she reminded herself, so she took a deep breath and let it out in an annoyed-sounding huff. She donned the mask of the Sorceress, hoping that the guise would make her appear fearless where her conscious said otherwise, and opened the door with a firm jerk.

As it shut quickly behind her, Jeb caught Raw's eyes and he muttered quietly to the man, "You tell me the minute something goes wrong, got it Raw?"

Raw nodded back, but his heart whimpered in fear. He wasn't sure if he could keep that promise. Looking in the young man's eyes, which were so much more open, and less piercing than those of his father, he worried for them all, and hoped Wyatt would get there soon.

Wyatt too was hoping he hadn't lost his window of opportunity. As his mind cleared, the anxiety subsided only somewhat, giving way to burning frustration with his circumstances. He could keep a thought in his head now, but he still couldn't get up without his head feeling as if it was caught in a vice.

Wyatt rubbed his left temple and closed his eyes for a moment, and he let out an exasperated huff of air as he asked, "Did Roquat say anything before he took off?"

Artie shook his head bitterly and replied through a raised eyebrow, "No, but he was very intent on taking that little gem with him. I'm grateful that he didn't break my hand to get it."

Wyatt reached into his pocket to find his knife, and he withdrew it as he silently mulled over what Artie had said. While Artie held his now restored hands out to the Tin Man, allowing Wyatt to begin cutting away the bindings, he grumbled thoughtfully, "Something's not right. We're missing something big."

Artie rubbed his wrists and inquired, "Come again, General?"

Wyatt now moved to Artie's feet, and he answered in the same calculating tone, "He wanted to eradicate DG and the rest of the Gale line completely. He didn't want to just turn her to stone."

Now freed, Artie scrambled up and began searching the hut for something, while Wyatt closed the blade and returned it to its home. Not knowing what was happening troubled the Tin Man greatly, and with Artie now freed and past eminent threat, he pushed himself to move forward. He barely registered the curator bustling around the hut as he dragged himself onto the stone ledge and did not pause to consider him again until he was firmly seated and stationary once more. "What are you doing, Artie?" Wyatt finally asked, still wincing in pain from the pressure created by his change in elevation.

Artie seemed to have found what he was looking for, and swung his leather satchel in front of him as he sat down next to the Tin Man. He sighed in relief as he opened the bag, replying wryly, "Well, you don't want to sit around here all night, do you?"

He withdrew the brass doorknob from within the confines of his bag and held it out in the light proudly, smiling smugly at the brass that gleamed in the firelight. Wyatt could not help the smile that spread on his face because of that knob's appearance. Although it was no guarantee that DG would be safe, it would at least enable him to get to her quickly. Now if he could just get his head to cooperate.

While time seemed to crawl for the Tin Man, it seemed to be picking up steam for the Princesses. When Azkadellia had left DG standing alone in her quarters, DG could barely contain her nervous energy. Her pacing resumed, and her heart thundered in her chest. She silently repeated the next steps in her scheme to herself like a mantra, or meditation, meant to center her and keep her focused on the end goal. All that mattered was Azkadellia. Making their enemies think she was dead and getting her to Finaqua and out of sight was all she could see, and even the nervous churning of her unborn daughter within her could not sway her mind. She rubbed her small belly absently as she moved, shushing her daughter quietly while she stared ahead, feeling determined and ready for Azkadellia's call.

It seemed like only moments had passed when she heard her sister's voice, urgent and wounded in her mind, and her heart seemed to still when she gasped in surprise at the sound.

"Deeg, come quick," Azkadellia begged her little sister, and the words had barely escaped the elder princess before DG swirled into the foreground before her eyes, her sliver slippers shimmering just inches from the elder princess's nose.

DG did not utter a word, and her eyes seemed to burn on the man that loomed over her sister in the moment she appeared. All of their planning hadn't prepared her for the rage she'd feel when she saw Vizor standing over Azkadellia, poised and ready to strike her, and as exhilarating as it felt coursing through her, it was also terrifying. Her hands swept out graceful and swift, and with an unseen force, she flung the man across the room, where he seemed to crumple against the far wall, groaning as he slumped to the ground.

With Vizor briefly knocked out, DG dropped to her knees at her sister's side, and she gasped in near-terror, "Az, are you okay?"

"DG, I'm sorry. He wouldn't tell me anything. I don't know where Wyatt is." Azkadellia whimpered. In DG's mind, she continued, "I think I'll be alright, just a little woozy. He knocked the wind out of me when I came in. We don't have much time, Deeg, he's waking up."

DG was fighting panic now. With the adrenaline wearing off, the drain caused by disarming Vizor was beginning to set it, and she worried if she'd be able to put Azkadellia into a sleeping spell without causing herself harm. Worse, if she was successful in her rouse, what would keep him from going after her next before she succumbed to her own fatigue? And where was Wyatt? She felt suddenly so vulnerable, and so hopeless, but the goal had not changed. She had to move.

DG's voice seemed to carry on the air, and despite Wyatt's throbbing head, he knew he had to heed her plea.

"Artie, give me the doorknob." Wyatt commanded flatly, his hand outstretched and his eyes pained as he leveled them at him.

Artie hesitated while he considered the man. While returning his stare skeptically he asked, "are you sure you're ready, Mr. Cain?"

Wyatt had learned a long time ago not to question the link he had with DG. She was in trouble, and he had to move now. "There's no time, Artie. DG needs me now," he replied, struggling to stand while he spoke and looking down on Artie when he'd risen to full height.

Artie was still uncertain when he rose after Cain and handed him the brass knob, but the look in the man's eyes told him that it would be unwise to argue. Cain had a reputation, after all, and he knew better than to be on the wrong end of him when he'd made his mind up. There wasn't another word spoken between the two, and Artie gathered his bag and waited patiently behind the former Tin Man as he stood before the stone wall, his eyes shut in concentration.

There were only a few places DG could be right now, Wyatt considered silently, and only a finite amount of time to get to her. The royal guard would not allow both princesses to be in the same room with Vizor at one time, and so he quickly set aside the lower levels, feeling that although the plan had been to fake Azkadellia's death, the guard would keep the pair separate, and would be unaware of DG's peculiar slippers. DG would either be in her quarters, or in the General's office, where she would be best guarded until the threat could be better ascertained. He had made sure of that himself before leaving General Jinjur in his position. Until Azkadellia called on her, that would be where DG would wait. Although his office was his second choice overall, he'd never seen their new quarters, and had no image to draw on in order to make the doorknob work, so it would have to do. Wyatt growled. He expelled an annoyed huff through his nose and grimaced at the wall as he shoved the knob into it, while he imagined the rich warmth of his former office, hoping that he'd find DG standing on the other side.

"Here goes nothing," he grumbled as he grasped the handle, and threw the door open to look on the room beyond.

Wyatt stepped through and moved aside for Artie, and he gaped at the room. It was his office to be sure, but the furniture had been rearranged, and the very configuration of the physical space was different. Wyatt grimaced again with the unpleasant realization that his room had been moved, and he had no idea where they'd landed. What was worse, DG was nowhere to be seen, and time was growing short. With no more time to reconsider, Wyatt strode forward and through the open French doors to the next room – a sitting room. He took no notice of the room, and his steps quickened to a run as he crossed it, his eyes focused only on the outer doors that drew close. These doors were flung wide as well, which caused the guards on the other side to jump, swinging in his direction with guns drawn.

"General!" A harried Gates exclaimed, holstering his pistol.

He then stepped between Cain and the other guards, who had yet to recognize the wild-eyed man, covered over with a thick, golden beard, and dirty travel clothes. When the other guards relaxed in their stance and holstered their weapons, Gates turned back to his former commander, who growled before he could ask him anything, "Where is she?"

Gates was nonplussed by this greeting, and peered past Cain to see the empty room, and met his eyes again to reply in slight confusion, "I take it she's not inside, sir." Wyatt shook his head firmly, to which Gates swallowed hard and replied, "then she's gone to the lower levels, sir. The Princess Royal was asked to assist with the prisoner. I'd wager DG slipped her guard to join her."

Wyatt huffed through his nose and moved past the giant man, commanding gruffly as he moved off, "Come on Gates, I have a feeling I'm going to need you." He picked up speed now, knowing that Gates was just steps behind him, and he muttered to the air as he began to sprint, "I'm coming Princess, hang on."

DG's heart fluttered like a frightened bird, flapping useless behind a gilded cage. Her time was out, and Cain was still not there. "Az," she whimpered, sounding terrified and small.

It was no act when she clutched her sister to her chest and sobbed. Although Azkadellia slumbered, having been successfully put under DG's sleeping spell, DG could not help the fear that still poured though her. Her body was heavy, and her eyes struggled to remain open, and were only burdened further by the tears that clouded the Princess's vision. Just steps away, she could hear the winded Vizor regaining consciousness, and he chuckled quietly as he looked on the sight before him.

"Aw, poor little princess," Vizor taunted DG as he stumbled to his feet.

DG could barely lift her head, and she clutched Azkadellia to her protectively as she looked up at the man, her body trembling and weak. She could not think, much less speak, as she looked on the man that now stood over her, smiling menacingly, and she could feel time slipping away, like the shallow pants that escaped her lips as she waited for his next move. Then time seemed to pause, like it too was holding its breath in hope of a miracle. Vizor seemed paused in the act of striking and was wholly incapable of the slightest movement or flinch when the door swung wide behind DG, slamming against the wall with a loud bang as it went. In that moment, DG finally let go of the breath she'd been holding, and she barely registered a familiar set of leather shoes before her before her eyes slipped closed and Vizor crumpled to the ground.

When she opened her eyes next, just moments later, she'd been scooped up into Wyatt's arm and Vizor was gone. Ambrose was crouched on the other side of her and Wyatt, and his worried eyes rested on his wife. "Glitch, Clearwater." DG muttered softly before she swooned again and fell deeper into the protective wall of Wyatt's chest.

Wyatt was frantic and called out to Raw without knowing if the man was near enough to hear him. Logic and common sense had been abandoned in that moment, that seemed frighteningly like his nightmare. Tears drenched his face, and it felt as if he could not breathe while he worried for DG's wellbeing, while next to him, the Princess Royale and her consort seemed utterly lost. When Raw confirmed their fears, with a sad shake of his head, Ambrose rose, offering Wyatt only a small, concerned glance before he departed. His face was pale and somber as he carried his wife away, her countenance perpetually serene in a slumber that none could pierce. Even with the knowledge that Azkadellia was truly safe, Wyatt could not be calmed, and he continued to shake as he held DG still for Raw, who drew near and laid his hands on her shoulders, quietly diagnosing the state of her spirit. She was weak, and her breath barely registered while Raw searched. The beat of her heart was faint, but it was there.

Raw opened his eyes abruptly, and he laid his hands on the Tin Man's shoulders, shaking them firmly as he spoke in a low growl. "Tin Man. Princess alive. Safe. We take her home now. Rest. You rest. You understand?"

Wyatt blinked through his tears, and a relieved gasp escaped him while a weak smile formed. "Yeah Raw, I understand."