Now that she knew a few truths DG was still grappling with what they meant. Her real mother abandoned her to be raised by robots, the man who had been calling to her for at least two years seemed not to want her around yet he was very protective of her. That made the least sense.

Who was my mother and why was it so important to hide me?

"I wonder why my mother abandoned me," she mused aloud.

"Maybe not her fault. She was weak...maybe sick," Raw suggested.

Glitch swatted him in the chest. "No, I'm sure she's fine. Probably waiting somewhere for DG with a cold cup of mugrug. It's a soup. Something wonderful from my world."

"All right, let's pick up the pace," Wyatt ordered. "I want some space between us and the Longcoats before sundown."

Bossy Tin Man!

"You know Cain I understand why you're afraid of the dark. What with being locked up for all those years. But come on, relax it's a beautiful day, a rainbow in the sky...and we're nearly at the pot of gold." Glitch rambled. He turned around and saw that they were way ahead of him. "Wait for me."

"We're not in Central City yet," Wyatt reminded him.

"You know what your problem is Cain?"

Yeah and its name is Glitch.

"You're always fighting the tide. Always making yes a no and good a bad. "I've been thinking: if Mystic Man really does have all the answers then maybe after he's helped DG find her mom, he could help me rebuild my noggin. Give Raw here some spine and maybe do something for you about your lousy attitude!"

"Or maybe he can put a zipper where it'll do some good," Wyatt retorted.

"Down boys!" DG giggled.

"You find something amusing, kiddo?" Wyatt demanded.

"Travelling with you two hasn't been boring."

"DG be honest...he really does need something done about his attitude."

"Oh no. You are not dragging me into this!" she cried, still laughing.

"Well when you're finished having a good laugh at my expense, you think maybe we can get a move on?" Wyatt barked.

"Cain, I...oh you grouch! Learn to take a joke once in a while!" DG snapped back.

You learn to leave me the hell alone!

The only upside to all this insanity was that they were almost to Central City and he would be rid of her, the annoying Zipperhead and the nosy viewer once and for all. They were finally outside the gates of Central City. It had changed a lot since he, Jeb and Adora escaped in the middle of the night years ago.

"The shining city on the hill's starting to tarnish," he observed.

"This isn't going nearly as well as I thought it would," Glitch said as they watched a group of Longcoats inspecting a car outside the gates.

Raw pointed toward a bulletin board where a wanted poster hung. DG gasped in fear. It was the photograph from her locket. "Looking for resistors," he mumbled.

"This is a nightmare," DG whispered.

Wyatt tore the poster down. "We're gonna need some help." He crumbled the poster into a ball and tossed it into the grass. They heard music playing in the distance and a colorful truck driving slowly up the path.

"Central City People gather round. Antoine Demilo is back in town!" a voice called over a loudspeaker.

"I don't believe it," Wyatt muttered. He stepped forward and slammed his hand down on the truck's hood. The female driver, Antoine's mother stopped and honked the horn. A door opened on the side of the truck and Antoine himself poked his head out.

"Hey! You with the stupid hat. Move it will ya. I got commerce to commence here."

Wyatt raised his head and grinned. Intimidating Demillo had been one of his favorite past times as a Tin Man. For a moment he was able to forget he'd been locked in that damned suit for so long.

"Wyatt freakin Cain!" the man exclaimed. "I thought they were pissin on your grave."

Sorry to disappoint you there, Demillo. "I see you're moving up in the world. How's your sleaze business Demillo?" he asked.

DG stared at the truck, trying to surpress her laughter. This was the most unusual looking pimp mobile she'd ever seen. Back in Kansas the pimps drove caddies that were painted a single color. This truck looked more like a pimp mobile of the hippie generation. The story she would have to tell when she got home was getting better and better.

"Since you've been gone biz is booming so if you don't mind I'm working here. A'ight!"

Wyatt grabbed Antoine Demillo by his shirt front and slammed him against the side door of the truck. "So am I," he growled.

Remind me never to piss him off again, DG thought. For a moment she thought she was watching an episode of Law and Order SVU where Detective Elliot Stabler was conducting another one of his hardball interrogations.

"Hey, you're not sportin tin no more. So leave go me before I call the nice longcoats over there and request that they bloody your persons!" Demillo threatened, trying to shove Wyatt away from him.

Wyatt grabbed him by the neck and pushed him back against the truck again. "Who needs tin when you have a picture of a certain little man playing bed sheet bingo with Zero's first wife?"

A flap on the side of the truck flew open and two identical woman looked out, glaring hatefully at Demillo. Apparently he'd left that part of his life out during their conversations...if they even had any.

"W...What? C'mon Cain that that...me and Mrs Z we...we was just joking around and..."

Wyatt squeezed his neck tighter. "Really? Why don't I go ask Zero. See if he thinks it's funny."

"Whoa...please have a heart! That guy'll flay me like a munchkin!" Demillo cried.

After he castrates you first, Wyatt thought. It was the threat he remembered Zero making when rumors that his wife was cheating on him started floating around Central City. Of course now that he was cozy with the Sorceress, the expert on torture, Demillo would probably pray just to be castrated. It would be mild compared to the horrors that bitch could come up with.

"He won't have to unless you get us inside and tell me where I can find Zero."

"What're you gunning for Zero for? That's a short hop to a deep grave."

"You don't know the half of it. Are you gonna help us?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Ok." Wyatt yanked hard on the gold hoop earrings in Demillo's ears. What he really wanted to do was string him up by them but the kid didn't need to see that.

"Oooo! Okay, tonight's his weekly shackup!" Demillo cried. DG snorted. Not only was Demillo a sleaze merchant, he was also the biggest wimp she'd ever seen. Then again, a furious Tin Man was enough to scare her.

"That was easy, wasn't it?" Wyatt asked with a smirk and slapped his cheeks.

"Oh, God I hate Tin Men!" Demillo moaned. "Especially ex-Tin Men! Get your mutts in the wagon!" Wyatt shoved him out of the way and opened the side door. They hid themselves under anything they could find, entering the gates without an inspection.

Demillo probably keeps 'em well supplied with whores. Wouldn't be happening if I was still working here, that's for sure.

"Okay, we're in!" Demillo called out to his contraband passengers.

"Okay, where can we find the Mystic Man?" DG asked.

"Excuse me, is there a sign on my back saying Central City taxi and tourist information?" Demillo asked sarcastically.

Smartass!

Wyatt thought angrily as he hauled him up again and gave him a look that was as deadly as falling into a nest of poisonous snakes.

"So the Mystic Man, that's who you come here for?"

"Is he still in Central City?" Wyatt asked him.

"Oh, he's here all right. He's just not holdin court where he used to."

Wyatt slammed Demillio's head against the ceiling of the truck and dropped him. Demillo pulled some tickets out of his pocket. "These'll get you front row seats." As DG tried to take them, Demillo pulled them back. "Can't go dressed like that, cupcake. Maybe my girls can find ya something," he added as he leered at her.

Sick son of a bitch! "Then find her something," Wyatt growled and pulled Demillo back, knowing full well he would have tried something on the girl. "Now look," he said as he loaded his pistol. The Mystic Man will have all your answers. You don't need me anymore."

"Don't go after Zero. You're not a killer, you're a Tin Man," DG pleaded softly, gazing at him intently.

Not this time kid. You're not my master. He tried to avoid looking at her. "I told you I'd get you here and I did. You take care of yourself kid." He turned around and before she could say anything more he was gone.

You bastard! You cold hearted, ruthless bastard! Go on then! Get yourself killed, see if I care!

But she did and it started the moment he fell out of that suit. He could put a million bullets into Zero but it wouldn't make the pain go away any easier if it ever did.

"You okay, Doll?" Glitch asked her.

"Y...Yeah," she croaked. "No," she sobbed. "Why is he doing it? It's not going to make it any better!"

Glitch embraced her while Raw put his hand on her shoulder.

"That's Cain for ya," Demillo said. "Those two go way back."

"What do you mean?" DG asked through her tears.

"They've always had this rivalry going," Demillo explained. "Cain was always the good cop, ya know, the one people around here really liked. Zero, well, nobody liked him. Thought he was too full of himself. Zero was really pissed when Cain ended up on the Mystic Man's protection detail and he didn't. There were six guys the Mystic Man wanted and the last spot was down to those two."

"So Zero destroyed his life out of petty jealousy!" DG exclaimed.

"You'd be surprised what he destroys peoples' lives over."

DG glared at him. "Yet you let women alone with him."

"I got a business to run." He looked at his twin mistresses. "Go ahead and get her something to wear. I'll be back in a few hours."

Now DG, Glitch and Raw were alone in the truck. The twins dressed DG in a maroon satin dress with thin straps and a rose in her hair. Glitch was stunned to see two familiar tattoos, one of crossed swords on her arm and a sleeping dragon on her back, awakening memories.

He had the crossed swords tattoo on his shoulder, made when he began his own training in the Talon Order by General Lannot, now the leader of Azkadellia's army.

"Why don't I have the dragon one too?" he'd asked.

"You're not a master, nor will you ever be. Look at you. What warrior in his right mind incorporates silly dance moves into his line of defense? You'll lose your head one of these days."

Glitch tried very hard to convince his master that he was worthy to face the trial and become his own master yet Lannot always held him back. Once the war began, Glitch lost any hope of completing his training yet he still tried to practice what skills he did know without his sword.

How can DG be a Talon Master? She's too young.

Suddenly the markings vanished and Glitch rubbed his eyes, thinking it was just his misfiring synapses playing tricks on him again. Then the markings reappeared and a voice spoke in his head.

These markings only those of our brethren will see

The mate of the Dragon one day will I be

You will know to whom I must stake my claim

For our dragon markings shall be exactly the same

The tattoos vanished again. If he didn't know better he would think DG was a sorceress for only a being who possessed strong magic would be able to hide markings like that.

When Demillo informed them that the Mystic Man wasn't holding court where he used to, it was no joke. The once powerful wizard of Central City had been reduced to night club act who could barely put a sentence together. DG felt her heart sink.

"This is the man with all the answers? What's wrong with him? He's out of his mind...literally." Glitch cried.

No, just higher than a damned kite, DG thought bitterly. The Mystic Man seemed to be trying to inhale something from a green bottle. "Inhale the magic?"

"Azkadellia's vapors. A magical mist that contains a spell of bliss. He doesn't know if he's up or down." Glitch explained sadly.

Wonderful. I've been sent to get answers about my mother from a drug addict. Good one, Father Vue.

It had been years since Wyatt had to walk down the back alleys of Central City but nothing had changed. The whores were still picking up clients out in the streets before they took them to a motel room. One of them even tried picking him up but he wasn't interested. He had vermin to kill and its name was Zero.

He burst in on the woman Zero was supposed to be keeping company with only to find her talking dirty to a client on the phone.

"Where's Zero?"

"You just missed him. He busted out of here pronto. Something about some girl being smuggled into the city."

DG!

He raced over to the Mystic Man's club to see a troop of Longcoats marching in, Zero at the lead.

You should never have left her alone.

She wasn't alone.

You call a guy with half a brain and a scared shitless viewer capable protectors? Where is your brain, Cain! Now get your ass in there and do something!

"Hey, there's that guy who locked up Cain!" Glitch said, pointing at Zero. DG put her head down. They had to get the hell out of there but she needed to see the Mystic Man first. Unfortunately he was still stoned and two Longcoats burst into the room.

"Find Zero!" one commanded. As he stepped out of the room, a hard punch sent him flying and the other found the barrel of a pistol pointed right between his eyes.

"Drop it or I'll blow you into next week!" Wyatt growled.

Glitch smashed a bottle on the Longcoat's head.

As Wyatt came aound the doorway, DG was unable to disguise the relief in her voice. "I thought you weren't a Tin Man anymore?"

He spun his gun around his finger and put it back in the holster. "We gotta go."

"We can't. he's not...well..."

"Who's not well?"

DG moved aside. Wyatt was horrified by the condition he found his mentor in. Shaking, crying, he looked worse than the times Wyatt caught him after he'd been sneaking a few drinks.

"Oh my. That's not the Mystic Man I remember. Azkadellia's really messed him up. She's got him on vapors."

What the hell am I gonna do with you, old man? You just go from one extreme to the other.

Wyatt kneeled in front of his mentor. "Hey.." he said softly. "Look, until this wears off you're gonna have to hurt for a while..okay?"

"I need answers now," DG insisted.

Kid, you won't get anything out of him but nonsense when he's like this, trust me. The things he'd say when he got drunk...

"It'll be the vapors talking, not him."

If you really want answers out of him, you have to do it when he's sober.

"Do you think Zero's gonna wait?"

Well I don't have a version of Pa's hangover cure all right now and it wouldn't work against a vapor high anyway.

She was looking at him with those eyes again.

Oh damn...

With a frustrated sigh he stood up and DG took his place, trying desperately to question the man, only getting mad ravings in response until she slapped him and her palm began to glow, sending a powerful spell throughout the room. As it touched Wyatt, it forced him to turn around and stare at the girl's back where the sleeping dragon tattoo had reappeared.

Impossible! She can't be a Talon Master! She's too young...and no two dragon markings are ever the same!

Jeb Mysticos gripped the girl's hand in his as his memories flowed back to him and he explained to her how he remembered her mother by the color of her eyes.

Dorothia... she did survive! Oh, sweet Ozma's ghost what have I done!

"Okay kiddo, we gotta get out of here right now," he heard a male say from behind her.

"Not now Mr. Cain. He hasn't told us where to find my mother."

"Cain!" Jeb grabbed his former apprentice's coat tightly. "Cain you were one of mine. Weren't you? A Tin Man?"

"A long time ago," Wyatt confirmed.

Feeling the vapors wearing off, Jeb tried to open a mental connection to his former student only to find it blocked by the breaking of his bond with the girl. He saw the former royal advisor trying to get Wyatt's attention and turned back to the girl.

"The Northern Island. Your journey for her to find who you are starts there." He clasped her marked hand in his. "Let this guide you."

Wyatt opened the window. "All right...you two...get those two out of here. Let's go!"

"No, no...you stay with her at all costs!" Jeb ordered his former apprentice.

"I have to take care of Zero."

Jeb pushed harder at the block on Wyatt's mind with his magic as he spoke. "You know who she is now. She's the key. Promise me! I want your word as a Tin Man: you will not leave her side at any cost!" he hissed.

In his mind Wyatt heard him say something different.

I want your word as a Talon Master. You will defend your charge until your last breath.

"You have my word," he spoke aloud. In his mind he gave the Talon apprentice's response to an oath sworn to his master.

For my word as a Talon is my bond.

Jeb smiled and patted his apprentice on the back, going out to the hallway to fulfill his own duty as a Talon, to ensure the safety of two of the Guardians of the Balance

Wyatt closed his eyes. There was no running away now. A Talon did not break his word to his master. Should he do so, his soul was damned for all eternity.

They returned to Demillo's truck. He and his girls were asleep. "Wakey, wakey sunshine," Wyatt muttered, kicking at his boot.

"Go away, we're closed!"

Wyatt kicked him again.

"I said back off moron!"

"Class act Demillo."

The girls shook Demillo awake. "Cain, whadda ya want?"

"Your truck."

"You're shittin me, right?"

"Do I look like I am? Out!"

"Piss off!"

"Okay." Wyatt hauled him up by his suspenders and tossed him out of the truck followed by his clothes. His girls decided to just get out rather than be thrown out.

"Thanks for the ride," Wyatt called out as he climbed into the driver's side. He hadn't driven in a while and couldn't remember how to start the truck. It didn't look like any he'd ever seen. DG climbed into the passenger side and to his surprise she turned the truck on, clearly understanding the directions Demillo had given while they sounded like gibberish to him. They drove off with Demillo screaming at them.

Jeb Cain stood in front of the ruined cabin that had been the scene of the final battle his family fought together, tears in his eyes. So many times since that day he wished he'd been older and a fully trained Talon so that he could protect his parents.

"Adora take Jeb and run!"

"Wyatt, I..."

"Go! Your duty is to your apprentice now, Talon Master!"

But Jeb wasn't going to let his father try to fight off the Longcoats empty handed. He'd gotten past them and went into the house to find his father's sword. His last image of his father was seeing him call on his dragon's spirit and raise his blade to meet Zero's.

He had been off fighting a battle in the southern guild the day his mother was captured. Like her husband, she had been bound and determined not to be taken easily. The Longcoats had been instructed to take her alive so that she would face a public execution and like her husband before her, she had given her second in command the order to retreat and protect her successor, tossing Wyatt Cain's prized sword into the air so that Dagon could catch it. Her own sword was now in Gregory Zero's possession. He'd taken it the day he captured Wyatt Cain, another trophy for him.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and turned to face Xenia. She had also lost someone close to her in this long war. Her brother Ambrose, once the royal advisor to the queen had vanished, the only trace of him known to exist was his brain, locked inside the witch's tower. Her family held on to the hope that he'd somehow survived but without his brain he was only half a man.

Ambrose had been placed in the royal household for one purpose only: to ensure that Queen Lavinia maintained peace in the OZ but she like her predecessors was not able to bridge the social and economic differences between the guilds. The Northern and Eastern guilds were the upper class industrialists while the Southern and Western guilds were the lower classes, farmers and laborers. When Azkadellia finally seized power, her strongest supporters were from the Northern and Eastern guilds while the Southern guild allied itself with Wyatt Cain's resistance force in the west.

The few times Ambrose returned to visit his family he expressed his frustration with his lack of progress. He held a strong affection for Lavinia and her two daughters but he felt her Slipper consort was her weakness. When she was in his presence, she was easily distracted. His parents were becoming increasing concerned especially after the death of the princess Dorothia that Ambrose's affections for his queen were becoming more personal. He denied it but they still had their doubts.

Xenia, closer to her elder brother than anyone else in their clan, began to harbor suspicions that her brother wasn't being totally honest with her regarding Lavinia. She finally confronted him during one of his visits.

"When did it start Ambrose?" Xenia demanded.

"Before DG..." Ambrose confessed. "Commander Ozopov was the only other person who knew."

"And you had the nerve to lie to Mama and Papa when they questioned you about it?"

"I felt horrible about it!"

"Yet you went on with it knowing full well what could happen if you were caught!" Xenia cried. "Did this start before the princess died."

"No...before she was born..." he croaked.

"Ozma's ghost," Xenia whispered. "Is she your child?"

"I don't know," he moaned. "Lavinia isn't sure either."

"I find that hard to believe," Xenia muttered. Suddenly the brother she loved so much became a stranger to her. She wondered where the intelligence he prided himself on having went when he decided to conduct a clandestine affair with the very married Queen of the OZ.

"Xenia! Look!" Jeb shouted. She turned in his direction and saw him standing beside an opened tin suit.

"Ozma be praised," she whispered. "She's released him..."

"I can't get my hopes up, Xenia." I just can't." he murmured. "They probably realized he was dead and threw him in some unmarked grave."

"The double eclipse is in six days. If the princess is alive, now would have been the time for her return and since she is your father's mate, his dragon essence would have called to hers to lead her to his prison. Let's look around a bit before you give up hope completely," she suggested.

They entered the house and on the kitchen floor they found a mess of long blond hair that had been cut and a pair of scissors, comb and brush on the table. Jeb scooped up the hair and wrapped it in a handkerchief. It was the same color as his father's hair and if it was his, Jeb wanted to keep it. When they entered the bedroom they found some dirty, rotting clothes on the floor. Jeb recognized the shirt and pants as the same ones his father had worn the day he was captured. Jeb continued to search the room. He lifted up the mattress of the bed and found a pistol with bullets.

"He never went anywhere without this gun...unless..." Jeb rushed out the door with Xenia close at his heels. He was standing in front of a spot of grass and dirt that had been disturbed and an open black metal box. "His silver pistol is missing!"

"Did you say sliver pistol?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's just another gun he had but he never used it."

"Does it fire silver bullets?"

"I don't think this the time to be asking..."

"Answer the question Jeb, what type of ammunition did your father carry in that pistol!" Xenia demanded, now sounding hysterical.

"Okay, okay, it only took silver bullets so he had a lot of them made. Why the hell does it matter?"

"It matters because any bullet fired from that gun, regardless of where it hits is a kill shot. Let me see his sword."

Jeb removed his father's Katana sword from its sheath and handed it to her. She ran her hands over the shining steel blade, nodding slowly. "Just as I thought..a silver coating. The only defense against weapons like these is magic born from the light. They were forged from the melted remains of the original Tin Man that was one of Dorothy Gale's three protectors during her first trip through the OZ and combined with steel and silver to give them their strength. It was the Tin Man's final wish before he died that he would always watch over Dorothy in one form or another. The scarecrow took the weapons and he hid them away in Central City and everyone assumed they'd been lost forever. How did your father find them?"

"He didn't. The Mystic Man gave them to him shortly after he joined his protection detail," Jeb answered.

"The circle is beginning again..." Xenia murmured. "Only this time it spins in a different direction."

Xenia's words seemed to be putting Jeb under a trance. He closed his eyes allowed the essence of the OZ to flow through him as he spoke.

"Once there were three and their charge was to defend her

Another three will come to the last of her kin, one to be her protector and lover

Armed will he be with the weapons forged from the first protector made of tin

He must lead her into the heart of darkness for the final battle to begin."

He opened his eyes again and took the sword back from Xenia. They returned to where the open suit was and Jeb knelt on the ground, touching the earth at the foot of the open suit. He called on the inner dragon tracking skills his father and mother taught him and combined them with the hunting skills he'd been taught by his grandfather. He caught a faint trace of his father's scent...pine and it was combined with the scent of his mate, the rose.

They were both here...along with someone else.

He moved his hand in the dirt again, pressing harder and detecting another faint scent. This one was the scent of a fresh ear of corn.

"Who would have an ear of corn as a scent?" he mused aloud. He heard Xenia cry out. "Xenia?"

"Focus again Jeb. I need you to be sure. Is the third scent you're picking up an ear of corn?"

He lowered his head and sniffed the patch of earth. "It's not as strong as my fathers or the girl's but it's there. Why?"

"It's my brother!" she cried. "Oh sweet Ozma be praised, he's alive! Jeb, we have to find them!"

"We should be getting back to camp."

"Please!" she begged. "All these years we've both believed someone we love is dead and now we have a chance to find them alive. We can't give up! Can you figure out where they're headed?"

"As long as I can pick up their scents I can but if one of them is masking theirs I'll lose the trail."

"Then we don't have much time." They raced back to their horses. They knew they were deviating from their missions but if the trail they were on led them back to the loved ones they'd lost, it would be worth the hours, possibly days spent searching.