Disclaimer: Tin Man, Wizard of OZ or anything associated with it belong in no way, shape, or form to me. Sadly, this includes Cain's gun. For some reason, there's no money either. ::pouts::
"You're in great danger, DG." The words seem to echo and draw out again in DG's mind. Danger. Danger. Great danger. Azkadellia looked straight at DG when she made the somewhat dramatic, very public statement. The Crown Princess practically dripped sincerity and gravity. It suits her, DG thought somewhat vaguely. Her sister stood very still and very composed. It lent dignity to one that lacked for none of it to begin with. Then again, she's always been the serious one.
All such thoughts disappeared when the words actually started to make sense to her. "I don't understand," she said, very slowly. "Wouldn't you be in danger too, Az? Actually, wouldn't you be in more danger? You said the knife is dangerous to magic users and yours is much stronger than mine is." She raised a hand to push a strand of blood-matted hair away from her eyes and realized that her hand was just barely shaking. Fear? It had to be, but she did not feel afraid.
Tutor frowned. "Actually.." He just barely got the word out of his mouth before the more forceful Lord Marshal interrupted. DG just barely caught Az in the act of giving Tutor a stern look. She seemed to be counseling him to silence, but why? That seemed very unwise where any member of the Council could catch her and Az was the epitome of wise when dealing with nobles.
"The princess has a good point, Highness," the Lord Marshal was saying. "Why should she be in danger, but not you, our Crown Princess?"
Az grimaced. "It was poor wording on my part. I apologize to the Council. It is not so much that I am not in danger at all, just that I am not in danger right now. Or rather, I am in minimal danger right now. Now that the initial plan to take us both down at once has failed, they will concentrate on sacrificing DG first."
"Wait, what?" DG yelped. "Sacrifice? What the hell?" Her words were lost in a sudden wave of noise as each Council member tried their best to be heard over their neighbors. She twisted carefully, suppressing a twinge of pain, to look up at Cain. He was standing by her right shoulder and no amount of slouching and casual dress could disguise his tension. She could just barely see his left hand wrapped around his belt tightly. She would bet he was trying to avoid resting it on his six shooter. His face was stiffly expressionless until he saw her looking at him. He looked at her carefully, eyes moving as he caught every nuance of her expression. A corner of his mouth twitched down. He leaned down just slightly as he rested his hand on her shoulder.
"The guards and I aren't going to let anything happen to you, princess," he murmured loud enough for her to hear. "For now, let's just figure out what is going on so we can figure out how to keep you safe." With a gentle squeeze, he let go of her shoulder. She took a deep, steadying breath. On the other side of the table, by the Queen and Consort, Glitch caught her eye and winked almost imperceptibly. She let a little of the strain leave her shoulders, already feeling more confidant now that she had her friends with her. She had known these two men longer than anyone else in the OZ, even her sister in a way. Their concern for her left her feeling as if the ground was back under her feet and she had a solid foundation again.
After a few moments, the noise continued unabated. Cain heaved a deep sigh then walked up to the table and smacked his hand down as hard as he could. In the large chamber, the sharp, cracking noise was easily heard over the general din. Voices cut off in mid babble and everyone looked their way. "Excuse me folks," Cain said forcefully, "but it seems to me that if we want to know what is happening than we really ought to let the Crown Princess tell us without eight dozen interruptions every few seconds." He spread a glare evenly across the table, including Glitch for good measure. After a heartbeat with no further interruption, he gave a satisfied nod toward Azkadellia. "Your Highness, if you would continue please. I seem to have heard the name Lourden somewhere before and I seem to remember the name connected to some sort of secret society. So if you could please describe to your sister what we're dealing with I think all of us would be greatly relieved to know what is going on."
Azkadellia blinked in surprise before allowing a small, appreciative smirk to spread over her lips. "Why, thank you, Captain. I think that a history lesson would be fairly useful myself." Glitch grinned openly. Ahamo only rolled his eyes.
The Queen cleared her throat meaningfully. "Azkadellia, darling, if you would please continue?"
The princess subsided and clasped her hands behind her back again. Cain was slowly recognizing that as a sign she was feeling defensive or under strain. Her eyebrows drew together low over her eyes and she pursed her lips silently for several minutes. Finally, she relaxed and faced the Council fully once more.
"Lords and Ladies, you will have to bear with me for a little bit. The Lourden date back to the beginnings of the OZ itself and is irrevocably entwined with our earliest history. It is necessary to review some of this history in order to give you a clear picture of the fullest extent of our danger from them.
"It is impossible to know fully the origins of our world. Many say that we were once one with the Other Side and complete as one world. As time passed, we slowly diverged from one another, becoming separate and whole in and of ourselves. This theory explains many of similarities between the Outer Zone and the Other Side. The Consort has even stated often that we remind him of the Other Side as it might have been in the 'fifties' with magic. That is a time period in the Outer Side." The Consort nodded slowly as Council members looked in his direction.
"Others say that we travel along the same universal path as the Other Side, but have always been separate and wholly our own. Almost as if we were two pages in the same book; touching, but never quite one. This would also explain some of the similarities. Any discrepancies could no doubt be explained away as a coincidence bound to occur with two worlds so closely linked on the universal plain.
"There is a third, smaller group that maintains the Outer Zone has always been its own world and is completely free of any influence from the Other Side or any other worlds or universal planes. Similarities are strictly coincidental even if reports of them are to be believed at all and differences are celebrations of all that make us a unique world. This is especially true of that which we call magic. This theory is a little bit harder to find evidence for than the others, for all that it seems to make the most sense on the surface. No history or artifact has been discovered older than the Ancients and when you put it into terms of other worlds, this amount of time is nearly negligible.
"Regardless of our real origins, magic is the property of the Outer Zone that the Lourden base their existence around." Azkadellia paused to take a small sip of water from a nearby goblet. As she drank, she observed the faces of the Council members. They had all settled back down into their seats and so far, none of them looked bored. DG looked positively enthralled, but then, this was all new to her.
"Understand, my Lords, my Ladies, that magic is the heart of the OZ. It is all around us - in the air, in the water, in the very soil itself. When the Witch took control, she usurped much of this elemental magic for herself. The OZ was not dying because the Witch was trying to destroy it. She merely attempted to make it over in her own image. As a side-effect of draining the elemental magic from the fabric of the OZ, the land began to die. The Fields of the Papay, for example, rely on soil steeped in rich earth magic in order to flourish. My sister found this out personally, when she traveled through the Fields a second time in order to find the Emerald. She and her party were cornered by a hunting party. In her desperation, she called upon her magic and caused a single tree to blossom with fruit again. In a field of desolation and destruction there is now a tiny oasis of life. DG's magic was small and done in panic; therefore the result is small. However, she released just enough magic into the earth to allow that one tree to bloom so that the Papay let them pass safely.
"There are other examples. The weather has become cooler in the last 15 years as fire has seeped out of our air. The suns still shine, but there was less elemental fire to become charged by their heat and conduct it to us. Everything seems just a tiny bit duller, just a shade less rich. This is because the air is drained of elemental air and it was this element that made everything shine so. Central City is often referred to as the Shining City. Its silvery sheen is due to the elemental air that is entwined with our breathable air.
"Nearly every aspect of the OZ is dependent on this elemental magic. Well, like the theories of the origins of our world have developed into widely different ideas, the roles of magic in the OZ have developed different followers. All of these groups believe something unique about the magic of the OZ and how it should be used. Many of these groups are officially recognized by the Gale Family and the OZ Council. The Guilds are four such groups."
Azkadellia stood and paced slowly around the table toward the ceremonial dagger resting near the Lord Marshal. With a slight grimace of distaste that was obvious to everyone, she picked it up. Cain was watching from under the brim of his hat and noticed that she made sure that the silk was between her fingers and the weapon itself at all times. Even when she held it securely in her hand, she held it tilted away from her body as if it might leap up toward her at any moment.
"Of course, not all of the groups formed around the Outer Zone's magical properties are peaceful and benign. The Lourden are among the most militant and secretive sects ever to come to the Crown's attention. To be quite honest, we know almost nothing about them. What we do know is quite limited. We believe their members come only from family or close friends; son from father, daughter from mother. Obviously, this makes for a very tight-knit group that does not easily fracture. They are fanatically obsessive and totally devoted to their cause. They are utterly ruthless toward that end. We are aware that they prefer guerilla and assassin maneuvers to acquire their desired results. "
The Lord Marshal nodded slowly. "I remember now," he said. "They were the group responsible for the assassination of Crown Princess Sadea Gale. It triggered the Succession War. The Gales were able to remain in power. It was thought that the following manhunt successfully destroyed the remaining Lourden members, although no one was ever able to confirm this, of course."
The Crown Princess shrugged elegantly and tapped the edge of the dagger on the table. "This is proof otherwise," she said. "No one else would use a weapon like this. No one else could, that was not trained in Lourden ritual or ceremony. Its purpose is unique and singular; to return magic to the Outer Zone."
DG blinked, stunned as the implications hit her. "But where do they get that magic?" she asked, afraid she already knew the answer. She felt Wyatt Cain go still and tense next to her.
Azkadellia gave another elegant shrug and that cool, distant smile perfected by the Witch. "From us, little sister. From all the magic users in the Outer Zone that dare to rape our world." For just that one moment, the princess managed to sound just like the Witch again, complete with the little smirk she had always put onto the end of her words. "You see, the Lourden believe that to remove the magic of the OZ is sacrilegious. In their creed - as much of it as we can piece together - magic is the most precious commodity the OZ has. Its use by and for one individual for 'selfish' purposes is a crime equivalent to rape or murder. For centuries now, the Lourden have sacrificed magic users back to the OZ with this."
She held the copper dagger aloft. "With a priest properly steeped in the Lourden rituals, this hollow hilt becomes the repository for a wielder's magic when the blade is lodged in his or her heart upon a 'sanctified' surface." Azkadellia's lips curled up a tiny bit in disgust. "I use the word extremely loosely. There is nothing pure or sanctified about the ceremony. It is torture followed by ritual murder. Supposedly, after the magic is released from the body, the Lourden ceremonially return it to the OZ."
The Queen reached out and beckoned to her oldest. "Azkadellia, my dear."
The Crown Princess shot her a stricken look. "Mother!" she protested. "I can't!"
"Yes, you can," the Queen, as always, was the very essence of calm and collected. "You can not use the knife as it was meant to be used, thank Glinda, but you can demonstrate to a small degree." The princess hesitated. "Now, my dear."
Azkadellia gritted her teeth and unwrapped the silk a little further from the dagger. "My Lord Marshal, if you will lend me your wrist, please? I will not cut you and the dagger will not hurt you." He looked a little unhappy, but complied, baring his wrist for the princess to lay the flat of the blade against it. As the princess promised, nothing happened that anyone could see. When Azkadellia lifted the blade again, the Lord Marshal heaved an audible sigh of relief. She then approached the Queen. "Mother." In her voice was a muted plea. The Queen merely bared a wrist, and as she had for the Lord Marshal, Azkadellia lay the flat of the blade on it. Almost immediately, the Queen gave a hitched gasped and tried to pull her wrist away. Everyone could clearly see a faint glow gather and swirl within the hollow hilt, bound there by visible light twining faintly with the bronze lattice. It was clear that the Crown Princess had to struggle to remove the knife from her mother's wrist.
"You see?" the Queen asked her Council in a still shaky voice. "It is drawn to magic. Azkadellia would never have been able to make that demonstration with herself or with DG. The dagger would sense the stronger magic and even without a Lourden priest would not want to let go of it. Such is its nature. Such is its purpose."
Unconsciously, DG wrapped her arms around her waist, ignoring the ache in her left shoulder. "We're born with it, though," she said. "The magic. How is it raping the OZ if it gives us the magic as a gift?"
"That is the Gale belief, my angel," the Queen said sadly. "That is the Guilds' belief as well. There are other beliefs in between the two, but it rarely breaks out in the violent form the Lourden have chosen."
Silence fell heavily over the entire Council as they processed everything. Eventually, Ahamo stirred slightly to gain their attention. "Now we have a basic history and background. The problem remains the same. The Lourden are after the magic held within the princesses. The question also remains - what do we do to prevent it?"