Standard Disclaimer: These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.
Chapter 22 – Race to the Finish
Not another word is spoken as the group slowly trudges through the narrow, winding tunnel. The minutes pass by like so much molasses and with each step the tension between them coils into an ever-tightening knot. A gust of frigid air screams through the corridor from some unknown source, bringing with it a chill that gnaws into their skin like tendrils of dread are winding around their hearts. As they snake their way through the foreboding passage, it starts to seem less and less like an escape route and more a coffin of brick and mortar.
When the termination point finally becomes visible in the flickering, burnished light of the torch, all three women breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief. Just as with the entrance in the royal guest chambers, there is a sconce upon the wall that Dorothy rushes toward. With a single turn, the exit is unsealed, revealing the scullery, exactly as Dorothy had said.
Freedom is so close that Regina can almost taste it. But first they have to evade the Wheelers and any guards that have been alerted to their presence as they flee the city, a daunting task under ideal circumstances, which these most certainly are not.
By unspoken agreement, Dorothy stands in the entrance, watching over her shoulder as Snow concentrates her uncanny hearing to pick up on any movement from their pursuers.
"They're heading this way," she tells them after a moment, "but not as close as they were before. I'd say we have maybe a minute lead on them."
"Then we'd best make use of it," replies Dorothy, and without bothering to wait, she draws her sword from the scabbard on her hip and then pushes through the shoulder-width threshold into the scullery.
Regina and Snow fall into step behind their statuesque warrior of a guide. While Snow draws her bow and nocks an arrow, Regina allows her magic to flow through her veins and gather into her palms. She needs to be ready at a moment's notice to start flinging fireballs. Haste being the word of the day, they make quick work of the scullery and then scoot out of the castle via the door Dorothy has flung open.
As they step out into the moonlit night, Dorothy stops just outside the palace to flatten herself against the outer wall – a clever tactic to make her silhouette as small as possible. Regina and Snow join her as they each peer in every direction for any sign of patrolling guards. From their position they have a clear view of a hundred eighty degrees, and see no indications that they are being pursued from the outside.
Wondering what their next move is, Regina sends Dorothy a questioning glance.
"See that alleyway ahead of us just to the left?" the brunette whispers just loud enough to be heard.
Regina follows her line of sight, and then nods upon spotting said alleyway by the dim illumination provided by the street lamps. "I see it."
"So do I," Snow adds, both of them careful to keep their volume modulated.
"There is a siege tunnel that runs beneath the walls of the city," Dorothy tells them. "From that alleyway I can lead us directly to one of its access shafts."
Regina gestures wildly, an indication they had best move quickly. "Then what are we waiting for?"
Dorothy draws a deep breath as she nods curtly, just about to set off at a run when raucous laughter erupts from behind them. Regina shifts back toward the scullery door, where Snow is peaking her head around the corner. Less than five seconds later, Snow jerks back quickly and then turns to them wearing a panicky expression that portrays the gravity of their situation. The Wheelers have caught up.
"Time to go!" Dorothy hisses, having picked up on Snow's reaction. Without further commentary, she takes off at a sprint toward the alleyway.
Regina allows Snow to move past her and, once she is clear, summons a magical barrier that will temporarily prevent anyone still inside the castle from exiting. It fills the empty space left by the opened door, forming a solid wall of energy that is impermeable to all matter bigger than a dust mote. To optimize preservation of her magical supply, she installs a shield that will last only a minute or so. Not terribly long, but it will buy some time for them to cross the open approaches between the city proper and the palace that lies at its center. Once the shield is in place, she hurries along after her comrades, who are now well ahead of her.
Thankful that she had chosen to wear her leathers and boots rather than a dress and heels, Regina breaks into a sprint. Though her selection of clothing is undoubtedly advantageous, she is more grateful at the moment that she is married to a woman who is as fond of running on two legs as on four.
Every morning that there are no inescapable commitments or in which she is unable to persuade her wife to laze about for a few extra hours, she is dragged out of bed before the roosters are up. And not by choice. Oh, no. The obscenely early wake-up call is all Red's fault. Apparently the ass-crack of dawn is just absolutely the best time to go for a morning run upon the ramparts ringing the citadel. Grouchy as she is for the first half hour, by the time her heart rate is pumping in rhythm with her legs, she cannot help but agree with the sentiment.
The ritual began almost as soon as Red's living at the Dark Palace became a permanent arrangement. As might be imagined, Regina resisted quite vociferously at first. Having always prided herself on keeping a slim figure, she didn't see the point of such unnecessary exertion. Red did, though, and as usual she always got her way. Very quickly Regina learned there is vast a difference between staying thin and being fit. Those first few weeks were nothing short of torture. But Red, ever tenacious, just kept on encouraging her to push her limits until she finally adapted to the punishing regimen. Now, in spite of her knocking on the door of age forty-five, she is in the best shape of her life. Right now, it shows.
As a result, it takes her far less time to cross the distance between the alleyway and the palace than it does Snow, who has evidently let lapse the peak physical fitness she developed during a life on the run. Upon catching up, she starts to needle Snow for her lack of aerobic upkeep, but the moment her mouth opens, she feels her spell falter. A frisson of fear curls down her chest. The shield has broken much earlier than expected, and as if to punctuate the dread, the snap of the abrupt failure is accompanied by a frenzied laughter that is far more terrifying than any Regina has heard yet. She peers back at the palace just as the Wheelers finally emerge.
At first blush, her only thought is one of bewilderment. The Wheelers are gangly and menacing looking creatures dressed in all black whose heads are covered by gilded helms with grotesque masks upon the top. The masks are only visible when they are in transit as for some odd reason they often duck their heads as they move. Their legs and arms are the same length, lending them a strange hybrid appearance between a humanoid and something altogether unnatural. At the end of their limbs where hands and feet would be on a person are discs comprised of material that resembles malachite upon which they roll rather than walk or run. To surmise their appearance as odd would be equivalent to saying a mountain is heavy.
"They they are! Tender little morsels!" the lead one screams, voice harsh and shrill. It stabs Regina in the gut like a double-edged dagger, sharp and efficient and quick. "Get 'em! Get 'em all!"
"Run!" Regina shouts, and her companions waste no time in obeying her command.
She follows closely behind as Dorothy blazes a path through a seemingly endless series of darkened alleys. As they maneuver deeper into the labyrinth of civilization, the flickering light of the street lamps fades, enshrouding them in shadows. The moon overhead is partially blocked by cloud cover and thus barely emits enough light for them to see by, which makes shifting and dodging the detritus of bustling city life a precarious endeavor. Waist high piles of garbage and refuse have been spilled or tossed out in virtually every corner of the alleyway that runs behind homes and businesses. It is delicate going considering the compressed horizontal space they are navigating.
It seems to Regina that they spend at least five minutes straight scurrying like rats fleeing a ravenous cat. All the while Dorothy maneuvers them through adjoining alleys that criss-cross the city in an attempt to put some separation on the Wheelers. In the close quarters with their ninety degree intersections, Regina realizes that the creatures will have far more trouble navigating them as quickly as those who have feet. The decision to take them this route then becomes apparent as one of notable tactical brilliance. More and more, she finds herself respecting Dorothy for her ability to keep a clear head under duress. Whatever failures she had exhibited at the gates of the Sacred Grove, she is more than making up for them now.
Eventually they reach an alley that terminates against the giant siege wall that rings the Emerald City. With nowhere else to go, they all stop to catch their breath. In the near distance, Regina can hear the cacophony of noise that seems to always characterize a Wheeler in motion. Along with their obnoxious cackling, they intermittently vocalize an astonishing variety of colorful threats, some describing in great detail what horrors their malevolent benefactor will visit upon them when she returns.
Panting slightly, Regina glares at Dorothy, all her earlier good will having evaporated. "Well? Now what are we supposed to do? You've led us into a dead end."
"Ah," grins Dorothy, short of breath as well, "but I haven't. Just sit back and watch." She then reaches into a pouch at her side and pulls out a glowing green sigil. Of ovular shape, the item is decorated in the center by a stylized Z. When Dorothy presses it against the wall, something truly marvelous happens.
Regina stares in awe as a small rectangular portion of the lower wall begins to shimmer in undulating waves. As if a curtain of vibrant green, it is parted to reveal a recessed nook with a steel plate in the ground emblazoned with the same crest as the sigil. Dorothy waves them over to it after prying the heavy plate up by its handle.
"The tunnel is only known to those who are friends of the True Queen of Oz, Ozma," she tells them, holding up the artifact she had used to open it up. "This sigil is both a symbol and a magical key to open doors that Ozma wishes to remain unknown. The shaft descends twenty feet below the wall and empties into a series of networking tunnels that run beneath the city. If we follow the right one, we will emerge in the forest nearby, and luckily I know them like the back of my hand. We must hurry, though, before the Wheelers scout our location."
Dorothy then begins to lower herself down the ladder that is built into the stone walls of the shaft. After giving Snow a leery glance, Regina takes a deep breath and follows the brunette warrior. She hears Snow join them on the ladder moments later, and they begin to descend the shaft as hastily as they can without endangering life or limb.
Halfway down, Regina gasps when the magic holding the access door to the shaft open fails, plunging them into inky black once again. But before she can summon her wisp of light, the darkness is illuminated by green crystals that line the walls all the way down the length of the vertical access shaft. It is a clever bit of sorcery, and yet another instance of inspiration for her to perhaps experiment with back home. She has a sudden desire to meet this Ozma. Anyone capable of such wondrous works is someone she would love to converse with, if only to discuss the finer applications of the magical arts of which both seem so fond.
They climb down the rest of the way with no troubles thanks to the pale green luminescence emitted by the crystals. Upon reaching the bottom, Regina notes that the tunnels beneath the city are lit via a similar method, although the crystals are much larger and produce much more light due to the relative size differential between the spaces. Whereas the shaft was narrow, needing only provide room for one person a time to climb down, the siege tunnels are huge in comparison. They are easily large enough for grown men to travel down them twenty abreast and thus must be well-lit to avoid transportation mishaps.
For a long moment, Regina simply takes in the sight of the highly polished walls and ceilings. All of them are decorated with frescoes of what she assumes are myths and legends popular in Oz or perhaps histories of famous warriors and monarchs. She is amazed by the intricacy of the artwork. The floors of the tunnels themselves seem to be crafted of emerald glass, and they reflect her image back at her with perfectly detailed clarity. In all, the tunnels are an awesome feat of engineering and craftsmanship unsurpassed by anything she has seen or heard of back home.
"The tunnels are impressive, aren't they?" Dorothy's voice rings out, echoing off the walls of the tunnels as it cuts through Regina's musing.
She turns to see Snow standing shoulder to shoulder with their guide, both facing toward the east – if she has correctly oriented herself. "They are, indeed," says Regina as she sidles up to the two. "When were they constructed?"
"Over two centuries ago," Dorothy says, then smiles. "It's an interesting tale, actually."
"Oh?" Brow arched in intrigue, she awaits elaboration that does not come. Huffing irritably, she gestures encouragingly toward Dorothy. "Well go on, dear. It's impolite to leave one's audience in suspense."
Dorothy looks surprised. "I just figured you'd prefer getting out of here quickly to a very long story."
"You figured correctly," Regina says, lips quirked wryly. "However, stories can be summarized and if you are capable of walking and talking at the same time, surely I am able to do so and listen."
"Oh, so we're a smart ass are we?" Regina just grins at Dorothy's response, which prompts a chuckle before she shrugs indifferently. "Alright. Sure." She then beckons with a tilt of her head and she starts out eastward. "C'mon. It's this way." Once Regina and Snow have fallen in behind her, she picks up the story. "So, as I said, the tunnels were built a long time ago. Back then, Oz became embroiled in a bloody faction war between the humans that occupied what would become the Emerald City and the Dark Elves that were driven from those lands long before King Pastoria took the throne. Before hostilities broke out, the king had tried and failed to find a diplomatic solution to the looming crisis. Desperate to avoid bloodshed, he personally arranged one last meeting with the Dark Elven King, only to be ambushed en route. Although his entire escort was slain, their noble sacrifices enabled him to escape. But the king was not unscathed. Gravely wounded in his flight, he limped and then crawled for miles, and would have surely died had he not been rescued after he passed out upon the very ground Ozma would one day construct her grove.
"When the king awakened, he found himself in a cottage some miles to the west, nestled next to an idyllic stream. To his astonishment, everything within a mile of the cabin flourished. It was unnatural. Winter had descended upon Oz, and while the rest of the country was in the midst of a deep freeze, around this one patch of land green ruled still. Flowers were in full bloom and the forest housed such an abundance of fauna that he could merely glance out the window and see more wildlife than he could encounter over thirty square miles elsewhere in pristine conditions.
"He was contemplating how to get back to the capitol when the owner of the cottage returned. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. At first he thought her to be one of the fabled Light Elves that long ago departed for the West as her skin was fair as snow, her frame tall and lithe, and her ears tapered to a fine point. But other unmistakably human features cast doubt upon his assumption. Of course, there was not much time to further investigate his savior when she was busy fussing over him having stumbled out of bed too soon.
"For weeks, he recuperated under her gentle, healing hand. In a development not all that surprising, the two fell in love. It was only when he was forced to leave that she revealed her true identity. She was Lurline, Goddess of the Sky, and she had been watching over him since an incident in his youth when he came to the rescue of another of her avatars. Pastoria could not understand what she saw in him, even knowing he had once saved her life and out of the goodness of his heart asked for nothing in return. Lurline, meanwhile, was upset with herself. She had only intended to repay the debt she owed the handsome, compassionate human and never imagined that prolonged exposure to a mortal while clothed in flesh would make her so susceptible to their messy emotions. Their parting was bitter. Both had duties to attend to and neither were willing to forsake them for the island of happiness they had discovered in that cottage.
"Months passed. Pastoria returned home, having all but given up hope of ever seeing Lurline again. His situation was tenuous, especially with the Dark Elves preparing to besiege the city. Still, he resisted the calls of the nobility to flee at once, praying for a miracle to occur and for deliverance to come. With the Dark Elves readying to deploy their giant siege machines, all seemed lost. There was no time to evacuate the city and only skeleton forces remained, meaning they lacked the strength with which to sortie and cut out a path for innocents to escape the coming destruction. It looked as if everyone within the gates would soon be dead. But then word arrived that a Lady Ellinur had arrived with a plan to rescue the beleaguered citizens of the capitol. Having never heard of this Lady, Pastoria, with no other options beyond that all or nothing gamble, nevertheless accepted her overture.
"The door to the throne room opened. A vision in white appeared. And behold! It was Lurline, who had in secret been conspiring with the Dark Elves' chief rivals, the Light Elves, upon whom she partially based her most favored avatar. In a feat of magic unequaled in all of history, Lurline carved out the first of these great siege tunnels underneath the city in a single night. It is the largest and longest and terminates half a mile behind where the Dark Elven army encamped. But the form Lurline inhabited was not omnipotent, and she expended so much energy that she nearly died. Pastoria carried her all the way through the tunnel she had constructed, through the forests, and another five miles to safety.
"With the help of the Light Elves, he was able to retake his kingdom and within a year drove the Dark Elves forever from Oz. To celebrate this great victory, the Light Elves offered to aid in the construction of a new capitol city, one where all citizens of Oz, regardless of race, would be welcome. Pastoria could not refuse this generous offer, nor would he since he owed them a debt that could never be repaid. In all of this, Lurline remained at his side and he at hers. So great was their love that Lurline bound herself to her avatar for the rest of Pastoria's life, which she extended beyond the pale of an average human lifespan. They married not long after the war was over. Many years later, Ozma was born.
"Because Lurline vowed to never again leave the people she had claimed as her own so defenseless, and because she had a daughter to think about, she set about reinforcing the existing siege tunnel and expanding it into the network that exists today. All that you see around you now is the work of her hands."
"Wow," says Snow, a bit breathless at the epic tale. "That's incredible. And romantic. One person did all this for love."
"A goddess did all of this," Regina corrects, though she is also impressed and a bit touched. "Bound in mortal form but a goddess just the same. Whatever happened to her, by the way? Ozma is queen now. I am assuming her father is dead. What did Lurline do when he passed?"
Dorothy's expression falls. "She abandoned her avatar forevermore. Now, she can only be seen and felt in nature and in the innate magic that permeates every creature of Oz. And in Ozma, who is said to favor her mother more so than her father. I never had the pleasure of meeting Lurline but I imagine the saying is true. I have met Ozma and she is so much more than human. She has a light within her that I cannot explain."
At the description of Ozma possessing an internal light, thoughts of Lucas suddenly spring to Regina's mind. She hopes that he is well. The last thing she wants is to abandon him here in Oz. Sadly, Jefferson's hat was not designed to accommodate a horse. Only humans are permitted to pass through that particular portal, and the thought of having to part forever from the gorgeous steed is a painful one. But it is what she must do if she wants to complete the mission. No horse, however beautiful or spirited, is worth endangering Red.
"I would very much like to meet her then," Regina says, also pondering whether or not Ozma might be of aid in her quest.
To which Dorothy replies, "I'm sure that can be arranged."
Not much else is said for a while as they move down the tunnel, Snow on one side of Dorothy with Regina on the other. They walk in dead silence for a few minutes before Regina is struck by the haste with which they had fled from pursuers with no hands. And if they have no hands, how could they hold a weapon? Or for that matter bind captives with restraints?
"Pardon me if my question is rude," she begins, not really meaning the preemptive apology. She doesn't care if her question seems rude, to be honest, but she likes Dorothy and wants to avoid offending her if possible. "I am very curious as to why we fled from assailants that are unable to wield swords or apply restraints. They have no hands."
Snow glances curiously over at Dorothy. "It's a fair question. I was wondering the same thing."
"For one," Dorothy replies, seemingly unperturbed by the inquisition, "they cannot be outrun. There is no creature bound to the earth in Oz, either of man or beast, that is faster than the Wheelers. But what's more, the witch has imbued their masks with her power so that one touch from them imprisons people in crystal, just as I was. It was their leader who ensnared me at the gates of the Sacred Grove. He is one of the Witch's most loyal and trusted lieutenants."
"Well, that is perfectly nightmarish," Snow comments, shuddering. "They are hideous to begin with, but that kind of power...and to serve Zelena willingly…?"
"Not all of them are so hideous," Dorothy then says. "And not all choose to serve her. Only one particular tribal leader fell in with the Wicked Witch when she usurped the Council of Directions. She warped him with her dark magic and imbued with him such power that he begged her to bestow the same gift upon his tribe. But the gift came at a terrible cost, for it compels them irresistibly to bow to her will."
"Yet another thing for which my sister must be made to pay," Regina says, hating to hear of any creature being enslaved.
"A sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with," added Dorothy. "As for the rest of their kind, while mischievous and rowdy, they are mostly harmless. They inhabit a land called Ev, dress very colorfully, and love to tell jokes. I encountered them once in my youth."
"They sound like interesting creatures," Snow comments.
"They are, indeed," smiles Dorothy as she remembers something that she chooses not to reveal. "Thankfully their ancestral homeland lies across the Deadly Desert, and even the Wicked Witch fears to traverse that desolate place. They only reason she got her hands on what few Wheelers she did was because of her failed attempt to seize the Throne of Ev in order to install a puppet government."
"Zelena was defeated by this kingdom of Ev?" Regina asks, keen for an answer.
"Oh, yes," nods Dorothy. "But not for lack of trying. She staged two separate invasions, each more disastrous than the previous. The Witch is powerful, but her resources are limited outside of the Land of Oz. Ev is very far away, you see, and the Deadly Desert forbidding and inhospitable. She lost several legions crossing it. Even more perished in her excursions that actually made it into Ev."
Regina hums thoughtfully. "That is interesting to know." So Zelena's magic is not so all-powerful as she likes to boast. Her sister's levels of hubris are even more foolish than she previously surmised.
Traversing the rest the siege tunnel is accomplished with a smattering of inane chatter between Dorothy and Snow that Regina drowns out to stew on her thoughts. But eventually the group nears the exit. It is a grand, upward sloping ramp of perhaps twenty degrees in rise, at the end of which lies another vertical access shaft. The walk up the ramp is difficult due to the angle, but it is passable – although Snow is breathing a bit heavily by the time they reach the shaft. So that they are not left waiting at the top for their least adroit member, Regina and Dorothy allow Snow to climb up first.
"Be careful on exiting," Dorothy tells her after she's about five rungs up on the ladder. "There are patrols known to frequent the woods near this exit. It is concealed by magic from view, but the moment we open the hatch, that magic will temporarily dissipate. It is night, which gives us some cover, so try and open the hatch slowly to limit the noise."
"I'll try," says Snow, and then begins climbing up in earnest.
For all of Snow's inadequacies, Regina does not doubt her ability for stealth. Her lungs may need some work toughening up but the woman is as light of foot as she ever was. There were moments during their journey to the little village they bought Lucas in that she had thought Snow to be lost only to check back over her shoulder and find her still following along silent as a mouse. Her ability to limit her noise on the brick surface of the road while wearing boots was impressive, and Regina was forced to admit to herself that she was grudgingly respectful of Snow's many other survival skills. And while Red was responsible for teaching Snow most of them, that kind of ability is nearly impossible to teach to someone not naturally fleet of foot. No wonder she made it so long in the wilderness as she fled from countless hunting parties. One cannot kill what one cannot hear or see or track, and Snow was and continues to be accomplished at being untraceable when she wants to be.
When Snow is halfway up the ladder, Regina indicates toward Dorothy with her hand. "Age after innocence, my dear."
Dorothy cuts a sideways grin at her. "I'm far from innocent and you're far from old. But I'll go first if you insist."
Regina chuckles amiably. "Thank you for the compliment. And yes, I do insist. I can defend myself with minimal use of my hands, so it makes sense for me to be the rear guard."
Seeing the logic in her statement, Dorothy nods and then begins to climb as well. Regina waits five seconds before she begins her own ascent up the glowing green shaft. Upon clambering out of the exit hatch, she immediately catches sight of Snow and Dorothy standing stock still, weapons in hand and in a combat pose. After glancing about, she stiffens defensively. They are surrounded by a squad of soldiers surrounding them whose weapons are pointed threateningly in their direction. Two of the men are armed with swords and shields, one with a great ax, one a halberd, while the other is an archer like Snow whose arrow is pointed at his counterpart.
"In the name of her Royal Majesty, the great Queen Zelena, lay down your arms and surrender," the leader, a burly man of about forty years with a trimmed and well-kept beard and piercing eyes, commands.
Regina snarls at him and summons a fireball into her hand. "Not a chance."
At the sight of her magic, the archer's eyes widen, and he spins in place, loosing an arrow in her direction. She is so focused on their leader that she doesn't see the projectile incoming until it is too late to avoid. Amazingly, before it pierces her through the heart, she is shoved aside. A grunt of pain escapes her savior's lips as both careen to the ground.
She lands heavily, but spins onto her side and is quickly up again. Reacting on instinct, she regathers her magic into another fireball meant for area of effect and casts it at the group of men who are now advancing upon the group. It explodes against their leader's shield, throwing the lot of them back and dousing them in a rain of fire. As they reel from the counterattack, Snow sends an arrow downrange with deadly accuracy. It lodges into the enemy archer's eye socket, killing him instantly.
The death of their comrade enrages the men, who spring forward in a mindless charge. In their recklessness, they lower their shields, and this time when Regina tosses a second fireball at them, it does not miss. It explodes in the face of the lead soldier, and again the whole line staggers. She hears the wretched screams of the man as his flesh melts from his face. Now on fire, he swerves into his comrades, spreading the flames to their undercoats. Chaos descends as they attempt to put out the inferno. Their efforts are fruitless, Regina knows, for it is no ordinary fire that consumes them.
As the screams and groans of dying men fill the night air, she assesses her compatriots. Snow is unhurt but gaping in horror at the scene of carnage before her. Regina pays her no heed; she is long used to the noise of people being burnt alive and accustomed to the accompanying stench of seared and charred flesh. Dorothy, on the other hand, is sitting up from where she'd bowled Regina over, gingerly assessing her left shoulder which has been pierced by an arrow from the back.
Regina kneels down beside her, cognizant that they have no time to treat the injury. More soldiers are likely congregating to investigate the commotion they have no doubt heard in the forest. Upon initial inspection, she can see that Dorothy's shoulder blade absorbed the blow and that the arrowhead is lodged firmly within the bone. It is an excruciating wound for sure, but the brave young woman makes little fuss as Regina breaks the shaft of the arrow and cauterizes the traumatized, weeping flesh with magic.
"I'll have to fix this up properly later," she says as she helps an increasingly clammy Dorothy to her feet. The brunette winces with the movement but does not cry out. Her toughness is commendable. "We need to leave this place at once. More soldiers will be coming."
"How are we supposed to outrun them?" Snow asks. "We have no means of transportation."
At that, Regina grins. "But we do," she says in a bragging tone. "We have me. All I need to get us somewhere safe is for Dorothy here to imagine one in her mind." She turns to Dorothy with an inquiring look. "Can you do that for me, dear?"
Dorothy's brows scrunch together. "Just think of someplace safe?"
"That's it," Regina smiles encouragingly. "I will use magic to peer into your memories and then transport us to the location you conjure up."
"Whatever you're going to do," Snow then interject, "do it quickly. I already hear soldiers on horseback headed this way."
"Close your eyes, Dorothy," Regina instructs, hands gripping the woman's face at her temples, holding her head steady to aid in her concentration. "Think of a place where the Witch or her men will not look for us. Somewhere preferably nearby the Grove. Can you see it?" Dorothy nods almost instantly. "Very good, dear," Regina says with effusive praise for Dorothy's quick response. "Now empty your mind of all else but that place. Let the memory of it flood your senses."
As Dorothy squints her lids in concentration, Regina closes her eyes and summons her magic. She ignores the encroaching sounds of hooves beating against dry loam, growing ever-nearer as she peers into Dorothy's mind. The picture she is presented with is that of a quaint wood cabin somewhere in the lowlands at the base of a great mountain chain. A fresh coat of snow is on the ground and smoke rises from the chimney in thick, dark gray plumes. The image is so clear that she is able to quickly latch on to it.
"Hold on to me, Snow," she cries out as she begins to recite the spell in her mind. "Hold on and don't let go!"
Still clinging to Dorothy's face, Regina feels Snow's arms wrap around her waist, and the moment they are closed tight, she releases her power. A flash of light bursts behind her eyelids as she feels her powers flare to life. A moment later, it is over. Her energy levels, while waning, are not dangerously low. She knows without needing to open her eyes that the transportation spell worked. No longer is she surrounded by the smells of a forest clashing with the myriad foul odors inherent to a densely populated city, but the crisp, cool air that can only be found far away from the hallmarks of human civilization.
When she opens her eyes, she is greeted by the sight of the cabin in Dorothy's memories. A relieved smile cracks through the stress of their escape. Unfortunately, it lasts for less than half a second before Dorothy's now-opened eyes roll up into her skull and she slumps boneless into Regina's arms.
A moment later, the door of the cabin opens and a small furry form darts out, speeding toward them in a whir of stumpy legs and frizzy hair. It is a dog of some exotic breed that barks and whines incessantly as it paws at Dorothy's legs. Regina tries to shoo it off unsuccessfully several times before a voice calls out, curbing her attempts to drive the mangy animal away.
"Toto! Where the blazes do you think you are going? Come back this instant you naughty little tramp!" the voice cries, obviously belonging to a female. It is melodic and airy and gorgeous, and rings in Regina's ears like the stirring strings of a heavenly symphony.
And then a distressed cry from the direction of the cabin follows, wrenching her attention away from the yappy dog and her stricken companion. She looks up to see a woman standing at the doorstep, hand clutching fretfully at her chest. The pale skinned vision of splendorous beauty radiates a golden ethereal glow that makes her appear inhuman. Her hair is the color of the morning sun and tumbles over her shoulders in luscious curls that nearly reach her waist. A wreathed headband of gold, dusted with glinting emerald gems sits atop her head, holding her bangs away from her face, and she is dressed in a flowing powder blue gown that billows about slender ankles.
Regina is rendered dumb, in awe of the unsurpassed beauty before her. She is embarrassingly unable to reply when the woman cries out, "What has happened to my beloved?" and then springs forward in their direction.