Jeb Cain curled his lip and looked up at the tower. The green beam of light piercing the dark sky had flickered, but was now as strong as before, and there were no signs that his father's crazy mission had succeeded. A group of twenty men moved up towards his position on the ridge. The leader of them extended his hand. "Earl Marshall, Northern Guilds. Sorry, we're a little late to the party. I hear you're in charge."

Jeb grinned broadly, without humour. "Jeb Cain. Pleased to see you. We're pushing at the longcoats down here, but I'd like to send some people into the tower. You can get in through those ducts there, to check on the situation there. We have a team in, doing some sabotage, but they could use backup, and I can't spare anyone here."

Marshall nodded. "Pleased to assist."

He gestured, and his small troop set off at a jog. Jeb turned his attention back to the valley floor. The rebels had hit hard and the longcoats outside the castle were in disarray. With a bit of luck, they would soon have the field.

Marshall's team were soon inside the castle, and it was clear that the sabotage team had been working overtime. Yellow-clad Alchemists were scurrying about, accompanied by the occasional longcoat. Marshall ambushed one, and after a few judicious punches had the general layout of the tower. The best way to kill a snake was to lop off its head, and so Marshall headed for the throne rooms at the top, leaving ten men to guard the duct area, and to look to freeing any prisoners.

They were soon lost, and there were no longcoats or Alchemists on the higher levels. This was rather odd, but Marshall decided not to worry about it too much. Suddenly, the entire building shuddered, and a background hum stopped. Marshall's men were all well-trained by long practice, and they remained alert, and continued their search.

Unused to having control of her body, Azkadellia sat on the floor against the balcony, unmoving. She was not remembering, concentrating on breathing. Her mother had said that she would send someone. She winced involuntarily, and then she was seeing her mother and father reunited, less than an hour before. She had fought for that, tried to persuade the Witch that it was fitting that they should be together there, at the end. Even then, though, the Witch had been right. Her mother had said, "I am not your mother." Her father had said, "Our daughter is really gone?"

Azkadellia felt her hands twitch in anger, but it disappeared rapidly. Her face brightened slightly. The Witch was gone, perhaps the rage had all belonged to her. Her mother would send someone. She had called her My Azkadellia.

The great door was pushed open with a loud crash and a group of men spilled into the room. They were clearly not longcoats, so they had to be resistance fighters. Earl Marshall strode forward fearlessly, his gun pointed towards Azkadellia. She tried to smile tentatively, but it faded quickly.

Marshall laughed, a short, sharp bark. "Well, lads, looks like the sabotage crew did their job."

He slapped her hard enough to push her face into the wall. Marshall grinned again. "And I'd guess this is that emerald that you were so keen on finding."

He grabbed the emerald and pulled sharply, snapping the metal chain. Azkadellia was pulled forward and reached forward to catch herself. Marshall jumped slightly, and the other men all tightened their holds on their weapons. Trying to cover his fear, Marshall kicked her viciously in the gut.

She bit off her cry, and felt her magic leap to her command, pooling in her hand ready to throw this interloper out of the way. But the Witch was gone, and these were her family's allies. She trembled with the effort of not striking, until she was pushed face down to the floor and her hands were tied behind her back.

Marshall laughed roughly and said, "Come on, lads, I think we've got our prize. Smithson, Thomas, bring her."

The troop headed back down, which proved significantly faster than the ascent, and met their colleagues at the ducts, along with a handful of ragged looking fellows who were desperate to see the light again. Marshall decided that retreat was the order of the day, to secure the prisoner, and they hurried back out of the ducts.

The area outside was now deserted. By the sounds of it, the fighting had moved round to the other side of the tower, near the main doors, and a bit further away on the flatter plains. Marshall's group set a fast pace towards the woods; he had spotted something useful on coming, and he was keen to get back to the battle.

Finally, they came to a halt, and Azkadellia was dumped unceremoniously on the ground. She struggled to sit up, but was slapped back down. Then, Marshall grabbed her hair and pulled her head up. "You see that? You know what that is? You know how many good men you've trapped away in these things?" She was looking at one of the Tin Men that were now dotted around the O.Z. "I think we'll put you away in there until the battle is over. It'll keep you out of trouble."

She tried to reply, but her mouth was thick with blood. One of Marshall's men shouted, "Oi, boss, there's someone in here."

"Well, get him out of there then, quick!"

The Tin Man was opened up, and a dirty, blond-haired man stumbled out, wearing a dirty shirt and torn pants. He looked warily at Marshall's men and tensed.

Marshall laughed. "Calm down, man. We're setting you free. Victory is ours this day. And look who we've captured." He tugged on Azkadellia's head, and she looked up, failing to recognize her former general, Zero.

Zero started to laugh manically. He stepped forward unsteadily, and looked to Marshall, as if asking permission. Satisfied, he hit Azkadellia, hard, laughing all the while. Marshall dropped her hair and she slumped down, not quite aware of what was going on. Zero pushed her down, and then he was pulling at her chain-mail dress, ripping the stays at the back, pushing her into the dirt, striking her all the while. Marshall laughed harshly. "I can see you've got a grievance there, man. I think we could all use a break before we get back to the battle." The surrounding men gave a ragged cheer.

Azkadellia almost screamed once, but the focus on holding her magic in gave her something to hold on to. When she became fully aware once more, she found herself locked in the Tin Man, surrounded by cold metal with only a grimy window to see out of. She shivered with cold, and perhaps with something else.

From a distance, she became aware of full throated cheering. It would seem that the war was over.