Ozland

by Wendy Spinale

  “What she’s done to England and Gail’s people in Germany is unforgivable. We need you back ruling Germany,” Ginger says.

  “I can’t imagine what London must have looked like during the days following the attack. The kids from Everland and Umberland say there’s nothing left,” I say.

  Sorrow graces Ginger’s expression as she sits on the edge of the king’s coffin. “How many died? Suffered from ailments far worse than this?” she asks, peering at her disfigured hands. “How could anyone do something so cruel? She’s hardly a queen of any type.”

  Remembering my father’s last breath, a lump grows in my throat. I’ll never see my father again. Or my mother. My friends. Everyone I loved is gone. “She’s wicked,” I say, choking on my anger.

  The king’s green eyes moisten as he stares at Ginger’s disfigured fingers and my clenched fists. “She more than wicked. She’s a witch,” he says, his jaw rigid with fury. Fueled with rage, he attempts to climb from the bed, lifting his armor-plated legs with his hands as he swings them over to the side.

  “Help me out of this blasted sarcophagus,” he grumbles. “I’m far from dead.”

  Ginger grips him by the arm. “Your Majesty, you’re still weak.”

  The king pulls from her grip and glares at her. “Weak, you say? I was weak when I gave that wretched woman my heart. Withered muscles are nothing compared to selling your soul to the devil.”

  Exchanging an uncertain glance with me, Ginger says nothing.

  “Well, what are you two waiting for?” he asks. “Take me to Lohr.”

  After years of lying idly, the king struggles to stand. He weighs at least fifty kilograms more than me, but Ginger and I each take an arm and try to help him to his feet. A shadow at the narrow windows draws my attention, but when I turn, there is nothing there. The hair on the back of my neck prickles. I stay alert, expecting something to break the quiet. Other than a distant dripping, the tower remains silent.

  “So, any suggestions on how to get back to Lohr?” I ask.

  The uncomfortable feeling of hidden eyes upon me returns, but only for a moment. The minimal bit of sunlight is obscured, leaving the three of us in shadows. Glowing red eyes fall upon us like fiery beams. My breath quickens, audible even within the buzz of the machines that slowly fills the air.

  Suddenly, an explosion rocks the tower, sending us all toppling to the floor. Wooden beams and slate tiles barrel down on us. When the rocking stops, I struggle to get up, knocking the rubble off me. Ginger hurries to pull King Osbourne back to his feet. Sunlight beams from where the roof once was.

  The winged monkeys beat the air, stirring up dust in their wake. Terror fills the king’s expression. It’s the same look I felt cross my own face yesterday when I first encountered these wretched beasts.

  “We’ve found him,” one of hideous creatures says.

  The winged monkey perches on the edge of the broken tower wall. The citrine-colored stone set in the middle of its forehead illuminates in a fiery orange glow. It is the only machine with an adornment of any type.

  “Take him to Katt,” the beast growls. “Leave the others.”

  Ginger pulls her weapon from its holster and takes aim. “Get behind me!” she yells.

  The king falters, falling back onto his coffin. Assured that he’s all right, I nock my bow and send arrows toward the intruders. One strikes a machine in the neck, bringing it crashing to the ground. Another arrow misses, but Ginger’s blaster leaves a sizable hole in its chest.

  “Cover the king,” Ginger demands. “Don’t let them get near.”

  With a quick pull of a lever, the barrel of her gun turns, collapsing into itself. When it’s no bigger than a handgun, she pulls the trigger. Lightning bursts from the end. As it hits the first machine, the monkey lights up in flames. She aims for another and looks over her shoulder.

  “I said cover the king,” she commands, the militant soldier in her taking charge of the situation.

  I climb onto the casket, continuing to send arrows into the growing army. Ginger screams as one of the winged monkeys digs its spiked claws into her shoulders and lifts her into the air. She kicks wildly, aims her gun up, and blows a hole through the entire machine. Both Ginger and the creature drop to the floor, the tower shuddering as they land.

  Reaching back to my quiver, I find it empty. The machines hover above the casket. With the steel spikes on my bow, I battle them away as best as I can. But they outnumber me.

  King Osbourne shrieks as one of the beasts snatches him. As weak as he is, he hangs like a rag doll in the machine’s clutches, hollering in pain.

  Several more fly toward us.

  “Those two are of no significance to us. We have the king. Return to Lohr,” the leader of the army shouts.

  Sending gusts of dust and pebbles in a maelstrom within the room, the metal primates turn and fly out the window with King Osbourne in their clutches.

  Ginger continues to shoot her weapon, but it’s far too late.

  Panic grows as I watch the king become nothing but a speck in the sky. The one thing I was tasked to do, to save the king, I’ve failed at, and now there’s no way back home.

  My blood turns cold as the deafening silence burns holes into my already broken heart. With all that I’ve lost, all the hard work it took to find the king, I’m left empty-handed and alone. Well, mostly alone.

  Ginger curses vehemently as she holsters her weapon. “Those blasted monkeys!”

  “What are we going to do?” I ask.

  Yanking an arrow from a broken machine, she grunts. “I’m not worried about us. It’s King Osbourne. All these years I’ve dedicated my life to the day he was to return to his throne, and when that day comes, I lose him in just a few hours.”

  My chest aches listening to her. While my journey, my call to save the king, has not been anywhere as long as hers, I feel the same sense of disappointment.

  “The Bloodred Queen will have the king in her custody soon. What do you think she’ll do to him?” I ask.

  Collecting the rest of my arrows, Ginger shoves them back into my quiver. “I know exactly what she’ll do to him. The same thing she’s done to everyone else she deems unworthy. She’ll guarantee his death even if she has to do it herself, make no mistake of that.”

  “We have to help him,” I say, rushing to one of the unmoving machines, wondering if we can salvage some part of it to carry at least one of us back to Lohr. Singed wires lie exposed from where Ginger’s blaster hit. “How are we going to get back to Lohr?”

  Ginger laughs as she trudges over to the glass coffin and steps onto it. “Certainly not with that thing. How did you plan on getting the king back when you decided to rescue him on your own?”

  “I didn’t really think that part through, but I guess the same way I got here,” I say.

  Grunting, Ginger places both of her hands on the glass cover and pushes up on it. “You mean that hunk of metal that plunged you into the Manx Sea? You’re lucky you even made it here alive in that contraption.”

  Pressing my lips together, I force myself not to respond. Any retort I come back with will only give her fuel to poke fun at me. While she may be at least ten years older than me, I am not the helpless child she makes me out to be.

  “Come help me with this,” Ginger says.

  “Why?” I say, joining her.

  “You don’t think the Zwergs would send the king all this way without a way for him to return, do you?” she says.

  I climb on the casket and press up on the lid. It takes a few minutes, but eventually the glass cover lifts from the four gold posts.

  “Toss it to the ground,” Ginger says.

  I shove the lid to the ground, cringing as I anticipate the shatter of glass. Instead, it drops to the floor with a loud thud, but remains perfectly intact.

  Seeing my expression, Ginger chuckles. “Indestructible coffin. Just because it’s glass doesn’t mean it can be broken.”

  She tugs cords from the s
truts of all four corners until the ropes lie in piles on the floor. As she finishes unwinding the last bit, she directs me to two of the posts at the foot of the coffin that once held up the glass canopy.

  “On the count of three, hit those two switches,” she says, pointing to small gold levers in the supports. They’re so tiny that I missed them as well.

  “What are they?” I ask.

  “Do you want to get out of here or not? On three. One … ,” she says, steadying herself on the other side.

  I place a hand on both posts, my fingers barely touching the switches. I have no idea what will happen if I hit them too soon, but I don’t want to find out.

  “Two … ,” she says, looking over her shoulder.

  I swallow, not sure what to expect.

  “Three!” she says.

  I hit both switches at the same time. A rattle within the metal components of the coffin sends me off balance. The cot in which the king lay lowers until it is level with the ground, encasing us waist high with glass walls. Above us, fabric bursts through the four posts, each quadrant of the gold cloth snapping together as if being held by tiny magnets. Flames billow at the end of each post. Fueled by heat, the fabric rises through the opening in the castle ceiling as it fills like an ordinary balloon … and that’s when I realize, it is a balloon. An air balloon.

  As the fabric lifts into the sky, the coiled ropes pull taut. The glass case rises from the ground. My pulse races as the castle grows distant beneath the transparent floor of our gondola. We lift higher into the sky and I find myself in absolute awe not only of the balloon, but of all the beautiful green landscape that appears below us. Hope wells in my chest as the balloon catches on a brisk wind, sending us east.

  “How did you know?” I say, unable to find the words to properly convey my thoughts.

  Ginger smiles brightly. “I told you. I came over with the king. When I was sent here, the Zwergs entrusted me with their secrets to secure the king’s safety and return. From the coffin, the ship that brought us here, and the Guardian who was designed to protect the king until a designated time.”

  “All these years, though? With all that’s happened under the Bloodred Queen’s rule. Why now? Why couldn’t he have been rescued before England was destroyed? Before my home was trapped with terrifying walls and then burned to the ground? Why now?” I ask.

  The green hue of the Emerald Isle no longer seems to hold the same splendor. In mere moments, its beauty has been reduced to naught as I wonder where my future and the rest of the future lies. With our only hope resting on King Osbourne, who will be the Bloodred Queen’s prisoner soon, I ache to know why it’s taken so long.

  Ginger reaches inside the pocket of her vest and holds her hand out. Lying in her palm is the brass key.

  “Because we were waiting for the key,” she says.

  I storm from the jail, furious to have found the other cells empty. The Haploraffen guards follow me, equally puzzled by the escape. With all the talk about hidden walkways, I should have known better than to leave so few guards with the Lost Kids. A mistake I don’t intend to repeat.

  But I still have leverage. I have Gwen and Jack. And as flighty as Jack is with his loyalty, it shouldn’t take much to get him to talk.

  When I reach the belfry, I halt, stunned at what I find. Appearing to have been ambushed, the Haploraffen guards are slumped on the staircase, riddled with bullets and arrows. The wooden door beyond is ajar. My pulse speeds up as I burst through the doorway.

  Gwen lies unconscious in Jack’s arms, but that is not what stokes the embers of rage within me. Alyssa, Maddox, Lily, and Hook draw their weapons on me, stepping in front of Jack and Gwen. The fury burns up my legs, body, and neck like deadly vines.

  “How did you escape?” I demand. “And where are Pete and Doc?”

  Hook grins. “You forget, this castle used to be my playground. I know secrets that even the Bloodred Queen doesn’t know about. As for Pete and Doc … they’re not your worry anymore.”

  Alyssa takes another step forward, her sword aimed at my throat. “Katt, we’re taking over the castle. You will stand down or you will die along with the Bloodred Queen.”

  “And then what, Alyssa?” I say. “You’ll rule?”

  They exchange weary glances before their gaze falls back on me.

  “Jack is the rightful heir to the throne, for now,” Hook says.

  Laughing aloud, I shake my head. “You want Jack to rule? How ironic. I was thinking the very same thing, but with me by his side as queen. But what surprises me is how you could trust him at all. After all he’s done, all the ways he’s betrayed you and everyone else,” I say. “He’s a traitor … not unlike you at this moment.”

  Hook starts to speak, but Jack cuts his stepbrother off.

  “I’m a traitor?” Jack says, stepping from behind Hook with Gwen still in his arms. “You intended to do the same thing. You want me to be king, and you demanded that I marry you. This game is over, Katt. This is no longer about power or who is ruling over who. It isn’t going to matter in the end unless we lay down our swords and find a way to save everyone. That’s what Doc, Pete, and the rest of them have wanted all along. You and the Bloodred Queen not only have stood in the way, but you single-handedly destroyed thousands of vials containing the antidote.”

  “I had no idea the antidote was in the village,” I say, seething. “Their destruction is not my fault.”

  “It is your fault, and if you continue on this course, there will be no hope for anyone,” Alyssa says. “While Jack hasn’t made the best decisions, at least he hasn’t abandoned his country just to take over another. You, on the other hand, not only committed treason but also contributed to the destruction of your country. You held one of the highest powers, even higher than me, and instead of stopping the fires that raged through England, you fueled them. You are not fit to rule anyone.”

  Alyssa’s face burns red. She was a strong leader as the Duchess of Alnwick, but never angry. This is an entirely different side to her.

  “Enough!” I shout. “Listen up, Jack: The agreement was that you will claim the crown and I’ll be your bride. If you break our deal, I will kill your father. And these fools, too.”

  “You’ll never be my bride,” he says. “You yourself commanded the Haploraffen to bring my father back alive. Now all we have to do is wait. When he shows ups—and trust me, Princess, he will—Osbourne will rule. If not, the crown is mine and mine alone.”

  “Figures. You’ve always been about Team Jack,” I say indignantly. “You flip sides quicker than a fish out of water, but ultimately, it always comes down to you, what you want, what you think is best at the cost of everyone else. These stories of you playing good guy, bad guy, they only reveal who you really are. A self-serving narcissist.”

  A laugh billows from Maddox, who has been relatively quiet the entire time. “Says the former princess of England turned White Queen turned to … what are you now? The Bloodred Queen’s puppet?”

  I pull my gaze from him. He doesn’t need to know that my final title will be the White Queen, ruler of the world. It was the Bloodred Queen who brought the world to its knees with the virus, not me. And it will be me who the world will look to for a redeemer.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Lily says, moving from her position in the back.

  “Guards, detain them,” I command. The halo shimmers, casting a gold glow on my face.

  Before Lily can reach me, the Haploraffen guards charge the Lost Kids. A short struggle ensues, but they are relieved of their weapons and in the soldiers’ custody quick enough. Gwen stirs in the arms of one. Her dose is wearing off. She’ll be awake soon.

  “Your father is as good as dead,” I say, jutting a finger at Jack. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  My fingertips touch the circlet, taking in the vibrations. The quicker the pulses, the closer the Haploraffen are. Turning my gaze to the window, shadows appear in the stone frames. Although darkness skews the details
of the machines, their silhouetted wings tuck behind them.

  “Perfect timing,” I say.

  Curses rise from a deep voice. Kommandt and six of its entourage glide through the window. In the claws of one of the machines is a middle-aged man. They release him a meter above the floor. He grunts as he strikes the ground hard. Although aged, with salt-and-pepper hair and deep smile lines, his resemblance to Jack is uncanny. There is no doubt who this man is.

  Jack, as if in a dream state, slips around his Haploraffen guard and over to his father. Panting, the king peers up. His face scrunches before relaxing into wide surprise.

  Curious, I allow this to unfold, wondering how this reunion will play out.

  “Jack? Is that you?” he says, struggling to stand. Jack helps him to his feet. Osbourne throws his arms around his son and chokes out a sob. Pulling back, Osbourne puts his hands on Jack’s shoulders, joy evident in his expression. When his focus falls on the thin crown on Jack’s brow, Osbourne beams.

  “You’re here? So you are now the king? Thank goodness,” he says, relieved. “What has become of Katherina?”

  Jack frowns. “No, Father. She still rules.”

  His words are weak, as if uttering his stepmother’s title would be offensive in front of the true ruler of Germany.

  I don’t know what runs through the king’s head as he takes in this bit of news, but he seems to age in that moment as the glimmer of hope leaves him. A deep line forms between his eyes while he processes that the woman he once loved, who betrayed him, is still the ruler of Lohr. Of his land. After a thoughtful moment, he holds his son again. “I’m here now, Jack. We will undo all the evil she has brought upon this world. We’ll bring peace, and you, my boy, will one day take my place as king.”

  Jack steps back from his father and peers at each of the Lost Kids before casting his gaze to the floor. “I’m not fit to be a king,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’ve done nothing to make you proud. In fact …” He chuckles. “Everything I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt along the way, would bring you shame.”

  Confusion lines Osbourne’s expression.