Chapter 39

Cherrystone and his bulldog of a companion half-dragged me through what felt like the better part of the palace before we finally reached the floor I was to be housed on. I was subjected to the rain of snide, derisive comments and threats spewing like a fountain from Cherrystone's mouth. His aim being to break me into total submission, it would never work the way he was going. He could throw at me every derogatory statement in the book about my appearance or my past, neither of which I had any power over at the moment or ever would be able to control or change. I wouldn't let him, of all people, break me that easily, nor anyone else in this deceitful, treacherous regime for that matter. I kept my face expressionless, a facade to deceive the man into thinking I wasn't hearing a word he said; it was a technique I'd sadly had to learn to perfect over the course of my life. Unfortunately, I had no such technique to truly keep myself from hearing him as clearly as I was.

"Give it up, witch, hiding from me now when you've already been captured will hardly do you any good." he said when I'd refused to respond to any of his remarks; he was frustrating himself trying to get a reaction out of me and trying to keep a semblance of ease on his features. Eventually he put two and two together, realizing that taunting me about my color or long past events in my life wasn't going to get him anywhere, and he changed tracks, his jibes and threats now aimed at Fiyero and the children that were to be born in three months, if I lived that long; even Liir. He had found the weakness he'd been searching for.

I fought and failed to maintain a hard, even expression to belie how deeply his newfound words cut. They were shards of glass and fire embedding themselves into my heart, and all the more frightening knowing that the man was perfectly capable of making good on his threats.

"What is it, am I beginning to crack through that stony, collected shell you're always hiding within?" he asked, taking some perverse form of pleasure from seeing the loathing spreading across my face, watching me practically spit at him as a cat would from intense hurt and passionate hatred. I almost contemplated running through those few spells I had committed to memory and choosing to enact one that would give him a run for his money, but I was hardly composed enough to think clearly and any attempt I made at magic would only incense Cherrystone enough to do something drastic or even perhaps amuse him into causing me further pain. Neither of which would do me any good.

"You'll be staying here for the time being; how long that entails, I don't have the power to decide. His Ozness will more than likely drop in on you at some point tomorrow or the day after and clear for me the matter of how much longer you'll be able to maintain that current longevity of yours; I swear, you've been living off of sheer luck for years, even before that incompetent Dorothy child was dispatched to put an end to you. She's still here in Oz, did you know that? I don't know how in hell she managed to get her little shiny slipper-clad feet back into this world, but the little brat's being taught magic, of all things. She was given that book we found in the same tower where you were caught, and is the only one who's been able to read it. I daresay the monster of a girl will go and get this entire city blown up with the haphazard spells she's been throwing around, wreaking havoc. I don't know why I'm telling you this, witch. But no matter. I highly doubt that you'll be able to utilize that information in whatever way your twisted mind works; your life on this earth is rapidly drawing to a close. I daresay what meager time you have left will be determined for you in precious little time." he sneered before pushing me into a minuscule closet of a cell, slamming the steel door behind me.

The room was horribly close and dank as well as nearly pitch dark; it would be lit only by one tiny window in the wall and an even smaller on in the door if it wasn't the middle of the night. I was quite grateful at that moment to never have been claustrophobic. The walls were cold stone from what I could feel, having hit the far wall with my hands after being brusquely thrust into the cell. I figured the room would be without any furnishings whatsoever; it seemed far too small to house so much as an extra chair once an inhabitant was forced into it. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness my assumption was confirmed. The room was only about six foot square, maybe less.

I leaned my back against the far wall and slid down until I was sitting on the floor, my shoulder tucked into the corner, drawing my knees up as far as I could with my stomach getting in the way, tired, furious, and deathly afraid. There was no way I'd be able to spell my way out, what with the insane number of Gale Forcers I presumed Cherrystone would momentarily assign to guard me. I'd be sure to botch sorcery of such high caliber. Opening locks seemed to be my specialty, but the lock would have had to be on my side of the door for any spell at all to be able to open it. How I wished then to have taken sorcery with Glinda all those years ago, or at least to have sat in on those classes! It might have done me some good, even under that fool of a teacher.

::The magic never did do Glinda any good, either, in the end.:: I remembered, which only added to my distress. She'd been put under that enchantment shortly after she was captured, the one that prevented her from magicking herself away. Fear loomed menacingly on the horizon of my thoughts; I hoped they wouldn't lay the same spell over me; what good it would do me, I had no idea. I just didn't like the thought of being rendered even more helpless than I already was. I wondered vaguely if this was how Glinda had felt when the Force shut her up in this same room in the last hours before her execution.

Or maybe, just then she'd gotten a taste of what I'd been put through my whole life.

Reality began to sink in, the complete effects beginning to take root. It tightened in a cold steely band around my chest, making the hollow ache of another failure echo more painfully through me. Not only had I been too late to save the vast majority of Boq's family, I wasn't even going to be able to save myself. Now here I was, shut up somewhere in the heart of the palace, waiting for the matter of my fate to be settled. And Fiyero...oh, heaven, Fiyero! I'd dragged him into this. He told me even before we'd even set foot in this hateful building that someone was watching us, that we'd be caught if we pressed on.

::I should've paid him more heed while I had the chance.:: I thought, wondering what the Force had done with him - or to him. I remembered the visions I'd Seen the night the Tiger had helped Fiyero and me escape from the Force. If my memory served me correctly the gash on his upper right arm would be reopened, and he would be bleeding to death. And I had no way of knowing whether or not the Force had already done the deed and his blood was now staining the cell he was housed in, or if he'd already bled to death. I made a small despairing sound in my throat, almost like the mewling cry of a terrified kitten. I couldn't bear not knowing.

::I should've known...If only I'd...::

::No, if I'd listened and waited to do this another night Milla and Clarinda would be dead. We came here to save Boq and his family; at least we managed to make sure that he and what was left of it would stay alive; for the time being, anyway. If I'd heeded to Fiyero we would've been pushed farther away from what we'd set out to do.::

::I would be better off dead than to have the blood of any more innocents on my hands.:: I glanced down at them for a moment, and in the black of the cell I could've sworn that, just for that moment, I could see blood on them, the blood of Boq's other children, the ones I'd been too late for. I looked away, shaking my head to clear it, and glanced again; the red tinge I'd thought was there had vanished. Closing my eyes, I laid my head back against the stone for a minute or two, then looked back down; the illusion of blood had reappeared, but this time I was certain it was that of my own children, not Boq's, lending my hands their terrible ruby hue. Unable to hold back, I let out a single dry, despairing sob and pressed my eyes shut, refusing to open them for quite some time.

Left to myself in the darkness, I had nothing to tear my mind away from the "what ifs" and the stomach turning replies I'd concocted to answer those wonderings, each one more profoundly disturbing than its predecessor. A few times I tried vainly to sleep, but what little rest I did manage to get was overcome with the same gut-wrenching horrors of dreams that had plagued me while I was awake.

::Horrors,:: I thought, my mind only half-there, ::I was having premonitions before I was two. Horrors...how fitting for me. I've always been one.::

The dim light entering through the minuscule windows was all that signaled the passage of time; a total of almost two days during which I had nothing to distract myself from the hideous imaginings ripping me apart. The third morning was when I heard hushed, muted voices from outside the steel door. I listened, hoping foolishly that they'd divulge something about Fiyero. What I did hear was something entirely different.

"Your Ozness, the witch is being held here. I'm sure you'll want to lay that anti-enchantment charm over her, prevent her from causing any unnecessary havoc." Cherrystone said; from his tone I could tell how he detested having to submit himself to another man. "

"No, actually," said the monarch after a moment or two of thought, "She's had ample chances in the past few days to cause damage with magic or to help herself escape, and she hasn't utilized sorcery at all. I'm actually beginning to believe that she's not capable of it, from the reports you sent me from both the Vinkus and those from the past day or two."

"But sir -" he began, sputtering to find words. "She is the Wicked Witch! You -you can't expect her -"

"Cherrystone, you have no say in whether I use the spell or not!" The emperor's voice grew fainter and harder for me to make out, quietly dangerous and laced through with subtle veins of threat. "If I'm not mistaken, you've never had any magical inkling to you, and therefore, haven't the slightest idea how draining it is to put that spell in place. It requires immense concentration and prowess. The talent is quite present in me, but the concentration and effort it takes to perform it accurately are exhausting. I haven't the time nor the patience to let myself recover fully and regain the strength lost during the enactment of the sorcery."

"But sir, this is the Wicked Witch of the West! Surely you don't think she'll just sit there quietly and wait to be killed?"

"I know she won't come as quietly as we'd all like, but there are other ways of making her give in to defeat." With that, I heard his steps recede from earshot. Cherrystone stood there outside the door for a little longer, probably smoldering a bit from being nay-sayed and having his pride bruised, but soon enough I heard his footsteps fade away as well.

I knew how they were going to make me give in.

I couldn't let them hurt him.

I couldn't let them hurt our children.

Yes, I know, it's short. It's sickeningly short, but it's my last attempt to drag this out! There's still a little left...stick with me and I'll love you forever! R'n'R, dearies! The worst is yet to come! ::cackles-like-Yackle::

-Lindsay-