“You are the rightful king,” Jack says. “You will find an appropriate successor.”
“I don’t understand,” Osbourne says.
Finally fed up with this display, I shout, “Oh, spare us the tears. Arrest them! I want one guard on each of them this time.”
Kommandt glances my way, its steel eyelids blinking as it processes the situation.
“You will do no such thing,” Osbourne says, staring down the machine. “I am Osbourne, king of Germany. You will do as I say.”
“We answer only to one who wears the halo,” it says in a mechanical voice, before bowing to me. Two other soldiers join in the gesture of respect. When Kommandt rises, it signals to its guards with a wave of its hand.
“Take your claws off me,” Osbourne yelps when one grabs on to him, forcing him across the room toward the door.
“Katt, don’t do this!” Jack says. “You yourself said no one would accept a ruler from another country. Once the villagers know that the king lives, they’ll fight for him.”
Walking coyly up to Jack, I smile and gently place my hand on his cheek. “Not if they realized how he’s deceived them. How he abandoned his own people in times of crisis. And not when he abdicates the throne so you can rule,” I say. “If he doesn’t … well, I’m sure we can find a reason that compels him to agree.”
“They won’t be fooled by your lies. Not for one second,” Jack says.
“They will if his son convinces them,” I say. “If Prince Jack divulges that the king of Germany ran away when the Bloodred Queen demanded the crown, they’ll be struck with disbelief—but only momentarily, when they realize they are not alone. That in the king’s son a new world order will rise, but one of healing, peace, and prosperity.”
“Even if they believe that story, they’ll still never accept you. You’ve been at the Bloodred Queen’s beck and call. And surely news of Evergreen has traveled by now,” Jack says. “If they don’t know what you’ve done to Evergreen, it won’t be long before they do.”
Poised, I jut out a bottom lip. “But I was only doing what I was told,” I say in a singsong voice. I press a hand to my chest, blinking as if in disbelief. “The Bloodred Queen made me do it.”
“They’ll never buy it,” Jack insists.
“And that’s why wedding bells will toll this evening, my handsome prince. Just as we planned.” I laugh. “They will have no choice but to fall in love with me. And neither do you.”
“You’re wrong. They’ve seen this game played out before with the Bloodred Queen. They won’t be fooled again,” Hook says.
“You better pray they do,” I say. “Otherwise, you’ll all end up dead.”
With a wave of my hand, I shout my next orders. “Take them away.”
Kommandt nods, and the soldiers drag the prisoners away in a song of protest.
“There is one other matter to deal with,” Kommandt says with a bow.
“What is it?” I ask.
“In recovering the king, we encountered two other individuals attempting to protect him,” Kommandt says. “We left them behind once we acquired Osbourne, assuming them to no longer be a threat. However, it appears they are on their way to Lohr.”
I tap my bottom lip in thought. “There’s also the issue of Pete and the missing doctor. They can’t have gone too far.”
“What are your orders?” Kommandt asks.
“Find them. When you do, bring all the prisoners to the courtyard for execution. As for Osbourne, let the queen know he’s in custody, awaiting her orders. Tell her I look forward to seeing her at the executions.”
“What about the others headed this way?” Kommandt asks.
“Make certain the rebels never make it to Lohr,” I say. “And just to be sure, send out the queen’s Henchmen.”
Flames and smoke billow from the hills to the west, obscuring the mountains beyond.
We travel in silence as the beauty of the Emerald Isle renders me speechless. This high up I bid farewell to the green rolling fields. Plots sectioned off with stone walls give the landscape the appearance of a quilt pieced together with squares. Speckled throughout are remnants of old Emerald Isle castles, rising like ghosts from a forgotten story of the past. We drift over the extravagant structures, their roofs long consumed by nature and her destructive ways as she reclaims what was once hers. I squint, imagining lords and ladies entangled in dance, twirling across the old ballroom floors.
If they only knew what the future held for their kin and the homes that once sheltered them from the storms.
Hours pass by as we drift over villages with stone huts. Some occupied, others not. Grave markers, tombs, and Celtic crosses outnumber the people we see. The scent of fire and burnt grass permeates the air as we drift over Ginger’s home. We are high enough from Wicklow that I wouldn’t be able to see signs of life even if the aftermath of the metal monkey battle didn’t dominate the landscape. I let out a breath, feeling sorrow for the Wickloreons. My last view of their village is not unlike the last moments of my own home.
Ginger does not look back. Instead, she keeps her focus fixed to the east, but the stray tear does not go unnoticed. How she consistently keeps a brave face astonishes me.
My stomach turns as the destruction fades into the horizon. How much more devastation will this world see at the hands of the German queen? Disease, bombs from airships, a deadly labyrinth, fire-breathing mechanical primates. There is so much death branded by her hand that I’m certain the earth will forever be stained by the blood of the innocent.
Floating over the eastern coast of the Emerald Isle, I bid it a bitter farewell. As beautiful as the country is, I’m disheartened by damage caused by outsiders. By the Bloodred Queen.
A choppy blue sea passes beneath, until we reach England’s borders. I brace myself. After hearing the stories from the people of both Umberland and Everland, I’m certain the destruction in England is no less horrifying than the Emerald Isle’s or the Labyrinth’s.
I’m wrong.
The blackened landscape of what once was London is a stain on a grassy patched landscape much like the Emerald Isle. This is the all too familiar mark of the Bloodred Queen.
A burnt field sits behind the castle. Piles of wood, metal, and other parts scatter the landscape. It is a landmine of destroyed zeppelins, evidence of the queen’s assault. All the iconic London structures I learned about through stories told by my parents stand charred and broken along the skyline. Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, and Westminster Bridge. They are almost unrecognizable. While the loss of my home along with the attack on the Wickloreon village was deplorable, this … this is like that but on a much larger scale.
This is ground zero. Where the genocide began a year and a half ago. I cannot imagine how the people of Everland suffered, nor will I bring myself to try. The only sound is the hiss of the torches keeping the balloon afloat, but even in the quiet I can almost hear the ghosts of those who lived here crying out.
Rage consumes me as I understand just how much we all have lost.
“I will avenge you,” I whisper into the wind. “You will rest in peace or I will join you in your sorrow in death trying.”
Despite the deadness of winter, the countryside of Germany is a welcome sight, but only temporarily. The scarred remains of the Labyrinth and the charred tree in the center are a reminder of the sheltered life I lived within its borders. As the balloon flies over the destruction, even Ginger appears heartbroken at the sight.
“So, this is where he was all these years?” she asks.
She speaks of her father, but I don’t know how to respond. I’m not entirely sure if the grave below was once his home. All I know of her father was that Jack was given the key by him during his battle within the Labyrinth. Beyond that, he was just a stranger.
“I hope he went quickly,” she says, leaning on the glass gondola, seeming lost in the vast rubble.
I feel for her. The ache of my own father’s death weighs hea
vily on me. As hard as it was to witness his last breath, at least it was quick. Ginger will never know how her father died or if he suffered. We continue in silence, honoring all those who died mercilessly within the walls of the maze.
Lost in the image of the destruction below, we don’t see the attack until a bolt of fire whizzes by. A half dozen of the machine monkeys descend upon us. Ginger and I both snatch up our weapons and return fire, but it is too late. Fiery cannonballs soar toward us, nearly setting the silk fabric ablaze. The gondola shakes, threatening to toss us both over the side. Steadying myself, I try to ready my weapon, but the balloon suddenly loses altitude. The windowed view of our quick decent is nauseating. While Ginger may claim the glass container is indestructible, I doubt even this box could withstand a fall from this high without shattering.
Ginger tosses her gun back into its holster. “There’s too many of them. Get ready to crash,” she shouts.
“Get ready to crash? Just how do you expect me to prepare myself for that? Close my eyes and wish for a soft landing?” I yell back, slipping my bow over my head.
Ignoring my sarcasm, Ginger attempts to keep the fabric inflated by switching the levers on the post to increase the flames, but it is futile. The glass gondola hurdles toward the earth at an alarming rate. Scanning below for a landing place, I find nothing but dense forest, although much of it charred. My heart races, knowing that landing in the trees is going to be a bumpy ride, and more than likely will tip the gondola, making our prospects for survival bleak.
A burst of blue appears through the blackened, bare trees. Hope eases my panic ever so slightly as the body of water draws closer. While landing in the river is still not my first choice, it certainly is better than being smashed onto the forest floor.
“We’re going to jump,” I tell Ginger as she struggles to keep the pilot lit. “Can you aim the balloon over there, just beyond the tree line?”
Briefly taking her attention off the billowing fabric above us, relief dances in her expression. “Thank goodness you can swim, kid,” she says, alluding to my arrival on the Emerald Isle. That day seems like years away.
It takes a few minutes before the gondola passes over the shoreline. Ginger and I steady ourselves, waiting for the water to draw close, but not far enough from shore that the swim will be impossible. When we are only a few meters above the water, Ginger and I throw ourselves over the side of the basket and into the icy water.
My lungs seize as the chill steals my breath. Battling the current, I’m eager for air. When I break through the surface, I gasp, willing my frozen lungs to expand. It takes several attempts before I’m able to breathe normally. If I never crash-land in cold water again, it’ll be too soon.
“Ginger!” I yell, searching for her, but she’s nowhere to be found.
Water foams around me in white peaks as the rapids carry me down the river. My bow and quiver threaten to drift away, but I cinch them tighter. As a wave crests, taking my body with it, I see Ginger off in the distance struggling to get to shore. With every bit of strength left within me, I battle the current, swimming in the direction of Ginger. About fifty meters away, the earth meets the torrential water. Ginger gets her legs beneath her and she crawls to shore. I manage to follow.
Lying on the soft dirt, our breaths come quick and shallow. My muscles are fatigued and I have no desire to move anytime soon. I roll over onto my back, trying to regain both strength and breath, but time is not a luxury we have. When I open my eyes, the machines are flying above us. I nearly choke when a fiery ball heads in our direction.?“Run!” I shout.
Ginger and I leap to our feet and dash into the forest as cannonballs whiz by us, striking the earth in a blaze of fire. We follow the forest line along the river, hoping to lose our attackers. The trees and dry brush burst into a wall of flames, chasing us as the draft from the beating wings of the creatures fuel the blaze forward. Heat blooms on my backside, letting me know that slowing down would be disastrous.
“Head that way,” Ginger shouts. “Back to the river.”
Struggling down a sloped embankment, I nearly lose my balance. When I glance over my shoulder, the inferno is only a few meters away.
“In the water, under there,” she says, pointing to overgrown foliage near the river’s edge.
We stumble into the water, dropping to the rocky floor. The wall of fire roars behind us.
“Get down! Don’t come up until I say,” Ginger says.
Hardly able to catch my breath, I nod and submerge myself into the frigid water. Although the water is less than a meter and a half high, I still feel as if I’ll drown. The current wraps around my body, like hands threatening to drag me into its path. I shiver as the glow of fire erupts overhead, a blanket of it consuming the precious air above the water’s surface. I know we’ve been under less than a minute, but it feels like it’s been much longer.
I struggle to hold my breath, eager for the gold-and-orange glow to dissipate. When it does, I don’t wait for Ginger. Ready to take in a breath, I break the surface, but as I do Ginger pulls me deeper into the smoldering brush. She wraps a hand across my mouth as I let out a loud gasp.
“Shut up!” she hisses.
I fight the panic building within me, reminding myself to breathe through my nose. While it might not be the gulp of air I need, it’ll have to suffice.
The painted early evening sky is speckled with the machines. Their wings beat in sync as they retreat to where they’ve come from. Toward Lohr Castle.
Ginger lets me go as I pant, grateful for air.
“Looks like that’s the direction we’re headed in,” I say.
“It appears so,” Ginger says, stumbling from the river’s edge. She pulls her weapon from its holster and turns the barrel toward the ground. River water pours from the gun. “So much for modern weaponry. It can do just about anything, but get it wet and it’s useless.”
She pulls a pin from her hair and uses it like a tool, unscrewing the outer shell of the weapon. Removing the cover, she unveils several hidden compartments. She reaches inside and holds up a dozen short poles.
“We’re going to defend ourselves with those? I think I’ll take my chances with soggy arrows,” I say, pouring water out of my quiver.
Ginger frowns. With a flick of a wrist, a sharp blade explodes from the shaft. She tosses it to the ground and, one by one, she does the same with the others.
When she drops the last one to the ground, she gestures. “Pick one,” she says.
Lying at my feet are a spear, a pair of maces, a variety of axes, a sword, and several other bladelike weapons.
“I’ll stick with the bow,” I say. “I’ve never used any of those.”
“Suit yourself.” Ginger opts for the two short-handled maces. The heads of each are equipped with jagged teeth. “You ready?” she asks.
Nodding, I let her lead the way into the forest. Thankfully, this section has not been destroyed by the fall of the Labyrinth. The lush trees provide excellent cover if the Lohr’s army returns.
The last of the fading sunlight peeks through the bare branches. Lost in my thoughts and the gurgle of the nearby river, I tune out the evening songs of the forest animals. On any other given day, I’d find solace in the melody, but today, there is very little to find comfort in. We have no idea what awaits us in Lohr. While we can hope that there are allies along the way, there is no guarantee they will join us in rescuing King Osbourne and overthrowing the Bloodred Queen. And even on the slight chance they do join us, the castle will undoubtedly be guarded. Coupled with the fear that she has already murdered the king and we’re too late, nothing quells the anxiety brewing in the core of my belly.
Ginger, on the other hand, appears quite content. As if the growls and caws of the forest’s inhabitants are common wildlife. But I suppose for her, they are familiar, at least to some extent. While she may have lived the last five years on the Emerald Isle, most of her life has been spent here in Germany.
A rumble be
neath my feet disrupts my musings. Ginger reaches for a tree branch to catch her balance. I’m unable to hold my footing and tumble to the ground.
Flocks of birds lift into the air from the treetops, their wings dusting us with a gust of leaves and other debris. We are plunged into an unnerving quiet. Not even the wind leaves a whisper as it brushes against my cheek.
A rusty screech of metal grinding against metal rings out through the dense forest as whatever is causing the commotion rumbles our way.
“Get up!” Ginger shouts, pulling me to my feet.
We sprint through the trees, dodging in between them.
“What is that?” I ask, breathing heavy and looking over my shoulder as the whine of rusty metal draws close.
Panting, Ginger leaps over a log. “That is one of the king’s most deadly weapons. It was meant to protect the castle from invaders. I’ve only seen it in action once, and trust me, you do not want to be on the other end of that thing’s fury.”
“But what is it?” I ask again.
Ginger doesn’t need to answer. I am bowled over as a steel spear pierces through the forest floor next to me. The barbed shaft trembles, standing half a meter above the moss-covered ground. A second spike shoots from the earth, almost impaling my leg. Another nicks my right thigh, tearing through the leather pants just below my hip.
Howling, I roll over, but then another spear bursts into the dirt. Rushing to my hands and knees, I attempt to crawl away when three more spikes land in the ground in front of me.
“Get out of there!” Ginger yells.
Panic-stricken, I jump to my feet right before an enormous explosion erupts behind me. Trees soar over my head like rockets, their roots waving in the burst of hurricane-like wind. Clumps of clay, dirt, and shrubbery shower down on me, obscuring my vision. The ground trembles again. Turning away from the commotion, I dash to my left but am blocked by another blast that throws dirt high into the air.
A low growl shakes the ground beneath me once more. As steam hisses from the newly formed hole in the earth, a creature rises until its head is just above the lip of the cavern. Blue sparks flash in its hollow eyes.
Ozland Page 16
