A/N: I know I thanked you all last chapter for the response, but I really have to again. This story has had over 4,000 hits and I am honestly speechless. Thanks to all of you a thousand times over. Humble bow to fantastic readers Wow!
P.S- That doesn't mean I won't take reviews though wink,wink
A cheer went up among the men as Zero rode into the Long Coat camp. They had been reduced to road vandals, he noted. The once proud uniforms were torn and patched. Dirty faces looked up at him as they raised their guns and shook them. But in those faces, he saw awe for him. His escape from the Incarceration Tower and the subsequent victories by the rebel Long Coat force under his orders were making him legend.
Fools. Zero repressed a knowing, cruel grin as he rode through the throngs. They were working towards their own destruction as a civilization and didn't even know it. Why was it that humans constantly worked against each other? The Suket were constantly striving for the same goals. They were of one mind and he was proud to be part of that great race. His small sacrifices, the loss of his own magical powers, the pain he had endured beneath those blasted twin suns, were nothing. He would reap the rewards of his loyalty.
Stribog would be doing these miserable creatures a service when he annihilated most of them and brought the rest under Suketian law.
The horse stopped in the center of the camp. As Zero dismounted, a tall, broad man with a bald head approached. Zero greeted him. "Rawson."
"It's good to see you, old friend."
Zero smiled at his words. Like they were friends. Like they were brothers united against a Queen that would surely punish them for their treason. He revealed nothing of his higher purpose. He simply accepted the man's hand, the silly gesture of good faith. "What news have you?"
"Good news." Rawson looked over his shoulder and bellowed. "Bring him!"
From behind the tents came two Long Coats holding a third man between them. He was young, with stringy brown hair that fell to his shoulders. He wore the clothes of a peasant farmer, but they were torn and extremely dirty.
They brought him forward and stopped in front of Zero. Rawson stared intently at him. "Repeat what you told me."
The man's green eyes were dead as he stared at Zero. "You look for the Witch."
"I do."
"South. Towards Rigmar." The man stated flatly.
"You are sure of this?"
"I am. She stumbled through what was left of our village with her companions. I followed them to Heavens Gate and watched as they headed northeast towards the city."
"He was captured returning from this little venture, presumably." Rawson put in.
Zero loved this. Watching the little mice turn on each other. "Your village was taken by Long Coats?"
The man unclenched his jaw to speak. "Yes."
"And yet to save your own hide, you turned over your princess to the enemy."
There was fire no in those eyes. "She is not my princess. I will never live under her rule."
"No, you won't." Zero said softly.
"I like the justice of it." The man said, swallowing as he tried to keep the brave face. "The Witch dying at the hands of the evil she created."
"It does have a nice symmetry to it." Zero smiled before turning to Rawson. "Let him go."
The shock was evident on Rawson's face. "But sir-"
"Let him go." Zero said calmly. "He's done us a favor."
The Long Coats released the man who gave Zero a disbelieving look before hurrying to the cover of the woods. Zero watched him go. There was no need to kill that one yet.
He had signed his own death warrant.
"Wait, tell me the part about the Cowardly Lion again."
"Princess," Jeb was almost whining. Almost. "I've told you six times."
"I'm just trying to comprehend all this." DG replied with a smile. "What you have to understand is that where I come from, we don't typically go walking around with scarecrows, and lions and men made out of tin."
"Well, believe it or not, it isn't something we do in the O.Z. either. It's a story. A legend. Don't you have legends on the other side?"
"Sure," DG shrugged. "We've got one about a big hairy ape-man that everyone calls 'Sasquatch'."
She intentionally used that term instead of 'Bigfoot'. She wondered if Jeb would get his lips around it.
He did. "And do you believe that 'Sasquatch' is real?"
"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't."
Jeb made an exasperated noise that had DG smiling. She was finding out quickly that harassing Jeb was as fun as having a go at his father. It was simple to get to either one of them, but the younger Cain was just a little bit easier to get wound up. The older one would just give her enough rein to let her play herself out and give up. She supposed that was just life experience making him wiser.
But she could probably keep Jeb going all day.
For the moment, she decided to give it a break. She really did want Jeb to go into more detail about the bedtime story his mother had used to tell him. He had told her that he had heard of the City of Emeralds before and after that, she had pressed him for the rest of what he knew. If Dorothy's magic Silver Slippers were the answer to her problem at the end of this road, she wanted to know everything about them and how Dorothy had used them.
Jeb had outlined a fantastic tale in which her great-great-grandmother had traveled the Brick Road in the company of an animated scarecrow, a lion with no courage, and a man made out of tin. She had inquired if the last companion was where the Central City Police Force had adopted their moniker. He had shrugged and said he supposed so.
She pulled Speedy to a stop and reached around for her canteen, taking in the surroundings. Beside her was the sorriest looking cornfield she could ever remember seeing. The stalks were short and sparse, their green leaves already turning brown. There were rows, but they were crooked and unkempt. Weeds were beginning to invade between the plants, reclaiming the land that was no longer being used to grow food. "Seems a waste, doesn't it?"
"It might belong to some little old farmer who grows just enough to support himself and his family." Jeb was looking now, too, taking in the irrigation ditches that were so dry they had obviously not been used all season. "It is kind of a shame, though. This is some of the most fertile land in the province."
The dry, unused field stretched over the next hill and out of sight. It also ran for quite a ways in front of them behind the split rail fence they were riding along. DG had grown up on a farm and was well aware of the amount of food a field like this could yield when tended properly. A lot of hungry people in Central City could be fed.
Ahead, Raw pulled his horse to a stop. "DG, which way?"
"What do you mean 'which way'?" She had thought this a straight shot. There shouldn't be any turns. She nudged Speedy with her heels until he pulled even with her friend's horse. "Great."
They were at a crossroads. Straight ahead, the road led into the forest. If they took a right, they would be taken through a large river valley. To the left the road traversed the cornfield and disappeared into a wooded area a couple of spans off.
Jeb had stopped as well. "I don't suppose your subconscious comes with a road map."
"You're very funny." Truth be told, she hadn't had the dream about the weather vane since before finding Dorothy's house. She hadn't thought too much of it. To her mind it just meant they were on the right track. Now, it seemed like a problem. "Let's just think about this intelligently-"
DG cut short as a large black crow landed on the split rail fence beside her. The closeness of his wings even made Speedy prick his ears. The creature stared intently at DG with near-human intelligence behind his dark eyes. She opened her mouth to talk to Jeb again when a second bird joined the first.
When she quirked an eyebrow at Raw, her friend merely shrugged. She looked to the birds again. "O-kay."
A third bird joined the pair and simultaneously, the creatures leaned forward as though presenting themselves to the Princess of the O.Z. For a few seconds, she sat speechless, but then did the only thing she could think to do; she inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the gesture.
The crows danced on the rail, cawing and rustling their feathers. DG grinned as they leapt into the air and spread their wings.
Jeb watched them fly in circles around them. "You sure made their day."
The birds kept shooting around until one came back to the fence to stare at her again. Then, he hopped up and down the rail, cawing and looking back at her.
"Wants DG to follow." Raw observed.
"No way." Jeb had set his jaw in fashion redolent of his father. "We don't have time to be chasing birds all over the O.Z.."
"So you know which way to go?" His scowl was her answer. "These birds are here for a reason. Maybe they'll help us figure out where we need to go."
And with that she started Speedy off of the road. The horse hopped ponderously over a downed section of the split rail fence and began to amble out through the barren field. She smiled when she heard Jeb grumble and start to follow.
The horses moved down the hill as the crows flew in front, dancing on the breeze and looking back occasionally as if to make certain DG was still behind them. They flew to a dead-looking old tree at the top of the next rise and perched amid the lower branches, crying plaintively at the group.
Speedy began to trot a little as he moved up the incline but Jeb's bay cantered past, undoubtedly at his urging. If they were riding into trouble, there was no way he was letting the princess go first.
Just before they reached the summit, a loud cry of "Fire!" made them all duck down. Jeb got to the top first and halted his mount. "What in the name of the two suns?"
Below was a large valley with a beautiful lake with a small island at its center. From it, running down the midline of this valley was a large, ugly wooden wall at least thirty feet tall with sharp looking wire running along the top.
In front of this sat what DG could only describe as catapults, for lack of a better word. There were half a dozen of them and the contraptions had the basic look of a catapult, but they were clumsily made. One sat lopsided on its wheels and another looked as though the fulcrum had repaired in at least three different places.
A crew of people was associated with each apparatus. Two men were loading each of the devices, while three or four children were handing them. . .
"Pumpkins?" DG asked incredulously. As they watched, two men near the center of the line loaded a pumpkin on their device and hauled on the lever with a cry of "Fire!" The catapult jumped and groaned sending the missile spinning. The round orange fruit cleared the fence by mere inches.
The attack was answered by a strange sound. It was almost like a cannon being fired and all at once, two more pumpkins came flying back from the other side of the fence, one of them clipping the wire. The missiles landed harmlessly in front of the catapult line.
"We need more ammunition!" Came the cry up the hill. As they all watched, six or seven of the children broke away from the catapults and ran towards the hill. When DG looked where they were going, she gasped.
Below them on the hillside was a large patch of the most gloriously round pumpkins she had ever seen in her life. In her art classes, she had learned that the sphere was the perfect shape. These pumpkins were the best example of the symmetry she had ever seen in nature.
The children gathered what they could, either one or two pumpkins depending on what they could carry, and then raced back to the line where they were immediately relieved of their burdens and sent back for more.
DG looked quizzically at Raw before turning to the small town they lay half a span behind the fence. It was a modest village composed of small homes with thatched roofs and simple plank walls. Many of the little houses had holes either in the roofs or the walls where a lucky pumpkin had caused a bit of damage. Here and there, there were signs that some repairs had been attempted, but abandoned when a fresh attack simply caused more harm.
She looked back towards the still raging battle and saw a similar kind of town with similar roof-holes not far on the other side of the fence. Apparently, the two neighboring communities were having a disagreement and found themselves a rather original way of settling it.
Her attention was drawn back to the town below her. Pigs and chickens ran loose in the narrow dirt streets, rooting and pecking at the rotting remains of pumpkin that lay scattered about. People, however, were noticeably absent, something she was grateful for when a pumpkin-bomb provided a new skylight for a home on the outskirts of the town.
"What are they doing?" Jeb asked.
"I couldn't tell you." Raw plucked at the sleeve of DG's coat and pointed. She followed his finger with her eyes to a small copse of trees that stood on the edge of the expansive pumpkin patch. She could just make out figures moving among the trunks. "Maybe there are some sane people up there."
"I wouldn't count on it." Jeb replied. "I'm willing to bet everyone here is hitting the Vapors."
"Cynic." DG said. "Come on. You can't tell me you're not the least bit curious."
Jeb rolled his blue eyes. DG grinned. "Thought so."
Without further comment, Jeb pulled his horse around and began along the perimeter of the field. "They'll probably flay us if we ruin their pumpkins."
The sound of cannon fire and the cries from the battle continued as they rode up the hill. The grove wasn't far and as they drew closer, DG could see that the trees bore pears and the people, mainly women and children, were gathering the fruit. All were dressed in the same tattered, patched, and worn clothing of linen and buckskin. Boys and girls were collecting what fruit had fallen to the ground while the adults were perched on wooden ladders grabbing whatever was within reach and placing it in their aprons or baskets.
As they rode up, a young girl of about eight annuals with straw-colored hair tugged on her mother's skirts. Her blue eyes never left the new arrivals.
"Maddy, what is it?" The woman straightened up from where she seemed to be sorting pears and smoothed back her own blonde hair to the bun at the nape of her neck. She was thin and tired-looking, but kind nonetheless. "Can I help you folks?"
Her smile was normal and friendly, which struck DG as odd given what was happening in the valley below. The three dismounted and Jeb nodded respectfully. "I hope so, ma'am. We seem to be lost. I don't suppose you could tell us a bit about where that road goes when it reaches the crossroads."
She looked to where he pointed. "I'm sorry, no. I've not been out of this valley in ten annuals. Life keeps me too busy to go exploring." She held out a hand. "I'm Ruth of Fielder. It's a pleasure to meet you."
DG knew it pained Jeb to do it, but he introduced himself, shaking her hand. "Jeb, ma'am. And the pleasure is mine. This is Raw." He motioned to the Viewer as Raw and DG came up. "And DG."
"Hi." DG shook her hand as well. Luckily, the name seemed to mean nothing to Ruth.
"So nice to meet you, dear. You may want to duck." And with that, she put a hand on DG's shoulder and pushed her towards the ground.
A second later, a pumpkin sailed overhead. Jeb and Raw hit the dirt as the missile touched down and rolled unevenly through the brush. As soon as it stopped, the workers resumed their gathering. A few noticed the visitors and welcomed them with a friendly wave or nod as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
DG, Jeb, and Raw were more reluctant to rise. "It's all right," Ruth said doggedly, "The Crowleys only manage to get a hit this far up once or twice. They'll be knocking off for the day soon."
"Who are the Crowleys?" Jeb asked.
"Folks in the neighboring town." Ruth pointed to the broken homes on the other side of the wall. "The name of the town is Crowley. It's just how we refer to the people who live there."
Just then, a small boy younger than the girl Ruth called "Maddy", and closely resembling her, ran from the innards of the grove carrying the most lopsided and deformed pumpkin DG had ever seen. Apparently, it had not exploded on impact.
"You lily-livered, good-for-nothing Crowleys! Can't even grow a decent Launching Pumpkin!" The little boy flung the misshapen fruit down the hill. "You wait til I'm old enough, you stinkin', no good-"
"Thad!" Ruth cut him off. "I hear enough of that from your father every night. I don't need it from you all day long. We have visitors, so mind your manners."
The little boy turned to investigate, having not noticed the strangers in his passionate desire to give the Crowleys what for. He ran back and stood in front of Jeb, staring up at him.
"Did you come to help us fight?" His eyes lit on the rifle tucked in its scabbard behind Jeb's saddle. "Are you gonna shoot 'em?"
"Thad!"
Jeb caught the boy's eye. "That gun is for hunting game, not killing people."
It seemed as though Crowleys were no better than animals in Thad's mind. "Well, you should fight 'em."
"I don't get it." DG said to Ruth. "Are they that terrible?"
"No," the other woman shook her head, "they aren't."
"Then why fighting?" Raw asked.
"Because we're Fielders." Thad puffed out his chest, convinced that this was a sufficient answer. "And we Fielders fight the Crowleys."
DG looked from the boy to his mother. "There has to be better ways to spend their time. You know, like farming?"
"I do know." Ruth gestured to the trees. "That's why we're here. Preserved pears have gotten us through many a cold winter. Our husbands spend so much time fighting that our crops are neglected. We who don't fight do what we can with crude stone tools, but they aren't enough to work all of the land that we own. It's hard just to get enough food for the winter."
"Daddy can't tend to corn," Thad spat the word. "He has to tend the Launching Pumpkins." He turned to DG, Raw, and Jeb, "The rounder they are, the better they fly. Crowleys may have big, shining pumpkin guns, but they can't grow decent Launching Pumpkins. "
"Son," Ruth was obviously done dealing with her spirited Crowley-hating offspring. "Ms. Mabel is going to be wondering where you are. Aren't you supposed to be helping her?"
Thad looked crestfallen. "Yes, ma'am." Head down, he turned and headed back into the grove, kicking at a stray pear as he went.
"That's the noise we kept hearing on the way up here." Jeb whispered in DG's ear. "The Fielders are using simple catapults but the Crowleys must have a gun of some sort."
DG nodded in agreement as Raw crouched down. He smiled and waved at Maddy. The young girl's apprehensive look turned to a timid smile and she went to him, petting the fur that covered the man's shoulder.
"Is it like this every day?" DG asked.
"Not every day. But it's becoming a more frequent occurrence." Ruth looked a bit wistful. "When I first married Ernest and he brought me here, these little skirmishes would erupt once, maybe twice a month at the most. Now, it's more like once or twice a week."
"Wait," DG and Jeb exchanged an apprehensive glance before she continued. "You said you've been here ten annuals. This craziness has been going on that long?"
Another, older woman caught a piece of the conversation. "Oh, much longer than that, my child. No one lives that remembers the wall being built. It's been nearly fifty annuals."
"Fifty annuals?" DG repeated as Jeb said, "You have got to be kidding."
"I'm afraid we're not." Ruth said. Others had stepped closer to listen in on the conversation.
"There has to be more to it than you live in one town the Crowleys live in the other." Jeb said.
"Oh, there is, son." The old woman spoke up again. "Once, the people of Fielder and Crowley were good, peaceful neighbors. Every year, they would together for the Festival of the Fall Harvest. The biggest event was the Pumpkin Launching competition."
Ruth nodded. "Fielder farmers are famed for their growing talents. Mostly, for our beautiful pumpkins. Most of the residents of Crowley are descended from metal workers and craftsmen. The build extraordinary cannons. Every year, the two towns would come together and decide if powerful cannons or round pumpkins were the most important factor in how far a pumpkin flew.
A bent old man intervened. "But that was before the Crowleys burnt down the barn."
"What barn?" DG asked.
"The barn where we Fielders were storing our very best pumpkins for the festival that year. Jealous, they was!" The old man said bitterly. "All this talk up here among you women about silly feudin', how you're husbands are being ridiculous. You just don't understand!"
"Understand what, Clive?" Ruth asked in a way that told them she already knew the answer. "After the barn fire, a bunch of Fielder's men retaliated by destroying some of the launchers constructed by the Crowleys. It wasn't too long after that the Crowleys built the wall and both sides began lobbing pumpkins over it."
The old man stood a bit straighter. "That it is our duty to protect our honor. Why if I was a couple of annuals younger. . ."
DG jumped a bit as Raw put a hand on her shoulder and began to whisper in her ear. She cocked her head a bit and listened, barely able to believe what her friend was telling her. When he finished, DG gave him a dubious look. "You're kidding, right?"
The Viewer smiled sadly. "No. Not kidding."
"What?" Jeb asked.
DG pursed her lips but spoke to Ruth instead. "What if I told you this was all a big misunderstanding?"
There was murmur among the assembled workers. Clive spoke up. "Fighting Crowleys ain't no mistake, girl."
"A misunderstanding?" Ruth repeated. "Fifty annuals of mutual hatred?"
"It may sound hard to believe." DG put a hand on Raw's shoulder. "My friend is a Viewer."
"Yes," Ruth said, "His kind pass through occasionally. I know of their abilities to read people's futures."
"Raw sees what is in heart. Past, present, and future." The Viewer explained gently.
"He can show you all what really happened. How this all started." DG sighed. "Why it needs to stop."
Ruth looked dimly hopeful. "It would be nice to be able to fix the holes in my roof without worrying about more tomorrow."
"Listen to yourself, woman." Clive looked mutinous. "You know damned well that there ain't one of them Crowleys over there worth more than a copper chip."
"I know nothing of the sort," Ruth shot back, hotly. "Ann lives in Crowley and she is my friend."
The old man looked scandalized, but fell silent. DG asked, "You know someone in Crowley?"
"Yes," Ruth blocked out a few more shocked whispers from her fellow Fielders. "Ann was a good friend of mine before she married a man named Albert from Crowley. As far as I'm concerned, she's still a good friend. And a fine canner when it comes to peaches."
The woman smiled mischievously at Jeb and DG's confused looks. "There are peach trees on the other side of the valley. Ann and I meet every once in a while, in secret to exchange canned goods."
"Could you talk to her today?" DG asked. Slowly, a plan was hatching.
"If I hurry, I suppose." Ruth looked down the hill. The launching was still in full-swing. "They should be at it another hour or so."
"Great. This is going to take a lot of cooperation on both sides."
"DG." Jeb put a hand on her arm. "I don't think you realize how hard this is going to be. As long as these guys have ammunition, they aren't going to be interested in talking this thing through."
"Well, Jeb," DG put a hand on his shoulder and smirked, "it is terribly clever of you to figure that out. You're already one step ahead of the game."
The young man's eyes narrowed as Raw patted him on the back. "Jeb not worry. DG has good plan."
This was not at all comforting.
A/N: I freakin' love pumpkin launchers. That's the only excuse I have for this particular plot twist. "Hail to the mighty pumpkin, baby!"