Ozland

by Wendy Spinale

  Maus and Hase watch the discussion as if it were a fascinating game of cricket, not saying a word.

  “And then what? We include him in not only killing his mother, but what lies behind the power of the crown. How do you think that’s going to go?” Pete says. “He’ll just do the same thing his mother did.”

  “Do you have another suggestion?” I ask.

  Pete bites his lip thoughtfully before he pulls his daggers from their sheaths and twirls them. “Sounds like Hook and I are taking down a queen and retrieving the Haploraffen Halo,” he says.

  “Deal, but I’m going with you,” I say. Turning to Maus and Hase, I gesture to the toolbox filled with the antidote. “Can you keep these safe until we return?”

  Maus smiles a wide grin and pats me on the cheek. “Of course, my boy. In the years we’ve been confined to this lab, we’ve had many hidden secrets. What’s one more? Especially one that will save the world. Good luck to you both!”

  As we depart, I take a passing glance over my shoulder, hoping that whatever happens this night, Maus and Hase survive it.

  Ginger is deadly silent, having not said a word in over an hour. She forges through the overgrown foliage. The unknown of what awaits us gnaws at my gut like a parasite. I want to ask questions, but it’s clear that Ginger is not in the mood for discussion.

  Our encounter with the tin soldier has left her rattled, and her anxiety is contagious. She has been steadfast, courageous in the face of adversity. Now fissures mark her steel countenance. I have no idea who the other two Henchmen are, but if they’re anything like the tin soldier, we may not make it to Lohr Castle alive.

  We’ve traveled over an hour with no hint of civilization in sight. Other than the song of birds and the occasional squirrel, the forest has been relatively still. The back of my neck prickles when the birds abruptly become quiet. Ginger halts and peers up into the trees. She reaches behind her and pulls out a mace.

  An ominous growl behind me draws my attention. Quickly, I aim toward the sound rumbling from the thicket. A second snarl comes from the brush to my left. Within moments unseen beasts surround us.

  “Ginger?” I say, hoping she has something encouraging to say.

  “Shh!” she hisses, her eyes darting.

  Dry leaves crunches nearby. Ginger pushes me behind her, shoving me into the dense shrubs as she faces the creature heading our way. She grips the handles of both maces, ready to defend us.

  A large man emerges from the bushes. His thick dirty-blond hair hangs in waves past his shoulders. A scruffy beard and mustache frame his dangerous smile. A deer-hide hunting vest barely covers his muscular build.

  Ginger stands a little taller. “Leon,” she says, frowning.

  “Ginger,” he says, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised? You’ve always been trouble. Looks like nothing has changed.”

  “What are you doing here?” Ginger asks, twirling her maces with ease.

  Leon pulls two butterfly swords from their sheaths. “Funny. I was just about to ask you the same.”

  Gripping my bow tight, I keep my arrow fixed on Leon.

  “Let us pass,” Ginger says, moving to go around him.

  Chuckling, Leon sidesteps, appearing to look for the first opportunity to strike. “Now, you know I can’t do that. Letting outsiders into the Lohr’s territory? That would be against the rules.”

  “I’m not an outsider,” Ginger says. “Lohr is my home.”

  “Lohr was your home,” Leon says. “But you disappeared. Most of us thought the Bloodred Queen disposed of you when she murdered the king. Seems we were wrong.”

  “Seem so,” Ginger concurs.

  “It’s a shame that you’re the one I must kill today. Especially in light of our history with each other,” Leon says, drawing closer to Ginger. She responds by taking equal steps back.

  Growls continue to surround us, but neither Ginger nor Leon appears concerned.

  “Where have you been hiding out all these years?” Leon asks. “Spain? France? It’s incredibly difficult to court my future bride when she disappears without a trace.”

  His nonchalant tone slips as anger seeps through his words.

  “That’s funny, I don’t recall ever accepting your offer for courtship,” she says. “In fact, if memory serves me right, I clearly told you that I’d never be your wife. Eighteen was much too young to be a bride, much less the bride of a man who betrayed his king.”

  The corner of Leon’s mouth turns up just before he attacks her with his swords, his movements swift. She wards him off with each blow, knocking away his advances with her weapons. Standing back, I take in a slow, steady breath, keeping my aim on the struggle and waiting for a clear shot. Ginger swipes at Leon with her mace, but misses.

  “I wouldn’t call it a betrayal,” he says. “More like a promotion. A man can only ward off predators from the castle for so long without losing himself to the wild. Without questioning his purpose. There’s no honor in battling beasts. No courage in scaring off the occasional wild boar or bear. Under the Bloodred Queen’s rule, I’m an executioner. I might not be king of the castle, but I’m certainly the king of the forest. And you, my lady, are in my territory.” His words grunt out as the two parry with each other in some beautifully terrifying battle dance.

  Cautiously, I step through the brush, but when a branch breaks beneath my boot, Leon turns his attention to me. Before I can react, one of his swords flies and shears off one of my braids. The blade splits the wood in the trunk behind me as my braided lock falls to the ground.

  “This is not your battle,” Leon says. “But don’t worry, I’ll get to you.”

  Ginger swipes at him, landing a blow to his thigh and pulling his attention from me. He howls in response and lunges for her.

  Blocking his move, she spits out, “I am not a child anymore, Leon. You don’t frighten me.”

  Suddenly, Leon sucks in his bottom lip and whistles loudly. Three wolves emerge from the surrounding brush, each baring sharp canine teeth.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Leon says as they continue to battle. “I was sent here on the Bloodred Queen’s orders to kill you and your little friend. However, I’ll spare your life under the condition that you cooperate with me. Come back to Lohr alive as my bride or die as my enemy.”

  Ginger swings her mace, aiming for Leon’s head, and misses. “Never,” she says, her teeth clenched tight.

  “What a waste. Your father would be ashamed of you,” Leon says as he swings his butterfly sword.

  Ginger easily dodges it. “My father would only be ashamed of me if I let the sun set on your beating heart.”

  Shaking his head, he takes several steps back, out of Ginger’s reach. With a quick turn, he waves a hand over his shoulder. “Töte sie.”

  Ginger throws the short-handled mace, landing its sharp teeth in the thick neck of one wolf before the kill command is completely out of Leon’s mouth. A second wolf pounces, pinning her to the ground. Drooling, the animal snaps. I lift my bow, but I am knocked to the ground as well. My weapon slips, landing a meter from me.

  The wolf circles back on me, snarling. I flip to my hands and knees and scurry to my weapon. Before I reach it, the wolf sinks its teeth into the heel of my boot and shakes its head violently. I try to pull myself loose, but the canine’s jaws are locked tightly. I make a second attempt to grab my weapon, but it’s still too far away.

  With the heel of my other boot, I give the wolf a swift kick in the face. It yelps, releasing my boot from its hold. I have mere seconds to snatch an arrow from my quiver. When I whirl back toward the wolf, I don’t have time to aim. Shoving the arrow at the rabid beast, I hit the animal directly in the eye. Blood splatters my face, and I cough. The beast howls and retreats, pawing at the arrow. Finally, it turns and runs into the forest.

  Rising to my feet, I search for Ginger. She’s pulling her mace from the third wolf’s body when she is jerked to her feet and thrown to the ground. This time Leon pins her
beneath his massive knees, both hands gripped tightly around Ginger’s throat. She kicks and wriggles, but he’s at least seven stones heavier than she is. Hitting him with her fists proves futile. Her green eyes bulge as she gasps for air.

  Snatching up my bow, I line up my shot. While I’d like to see him suffer, he isn’t worth wasting one more breath on. When the base of his skull is within my aim, I release the arrow.

  It flies straight and true, piercing the base of his skull. His blond locks bloom with a crimson hue as his body wavers and topples to the side. Gasping, Ginger writhes beneath Leon’s corpse, eagerly taking in air. I rush over to her and struggle to pull Leon off her entirely.

  Propped on her elbows, she takes several breaths. “Nice shot, kid.”

  I help her to her feet. “I’m assuming he’s one of the Henchmen?”

  Ginger nods, standing and picking up her mace.

  “Two down, one to go. It should be fairly easy from here on out, right?” I ask, slinging my bow over my shoulder.

  “Those two were pussycats compared to the last Henchman,” she says.

  Throwing my bow over my head, I roll my eyes. “Why do you keep saying that? Can’t we have one adversary that isn’t impossible? I just want to get to the castle, save the king—again—and go home.” I pause. “Although I’m not all that sure where home is anymore.”

  Ginger pats me on the back. “The only way home is to follow your heart.”

  “What does even that mean?” I ask, exasperated.

  “You’ll figure it out when the time is right,” she says, smiling.

  Turning, she trudges forward into the brush.

  I throw my hands up in frustration and follow.

  My lips shimmer with a pale pink lipstick within the mirror. Loose tendrils frame my face. With my long dark hair cascading down my back and the Haploraffen Halo on my head, I’m as pretty as any queen should be. As any bride should be.

  I rise from the vanity chair, taking in my formfitting bodice adorned with pleated, stained leather along the boning, bits of delicate chains, and polished gears. Ivory taffeta and lace billow from my skirt and bustle in elegant layers. Polished silver chains wrap around my waist and cascade over the fluffy fabric, serving as a train. If only my mother, my father … even my sister could see me, the youngest of the royals from England dressed as a bride and future queen of Germany. Somehow, I imagined my wedding day to be remarkably different. Considering all that has happened over the last year and a half, there’s no room to want for more.

  Keep your eyes on the goal, Katt. The crown.

  Behind me stand my two handmaidens. With iron muzzles screwed into the joints of their jaws, they blink, speaking with only their eyes and hand motions. One kneels in front of me with a pair of lace-up, brocaded boots. I carefully slip my feet into them. She ties my shoes, but startles when the chamber doors spring open. Kommandt steps inside.

  “The prisoners are ready,” it says.

  “Has your army found the other two?” I ask.

  Kommandt shakes its head.

  “Keep looking,” I say sternly. “They must be found.”

  “They are searching for them now,” he says. “Neither they nor the apothecarists appear to be in the lab.”

  I tap my claws on the vanity. “And what about the Bloodred Queen?”

  “She is being updated as we speak,” he says.

  Standing, I walk from the room to the balcony, passing the fluttering curtains. As the moon rises over the town of Lohr, torchlight flickers to life throughout the village. The whir of machinery provides an ambient melody as they gather the villagers for an announcement. Their defeated expressions are a stain left by the Bloodred Queen’s rule. A stain I intend to wipe clean. I can almost imagine their confused but joyous expressions when they realize they’ve been called to a wedding, an execution, and a coronation. Yes, their world is going to be a much different one under my rule.

  “Does the Bloodred Queen expect anything?” I ask.

  “Only what you’ve asked us to reveal: King Osbourne’s execution,” it says.

  “Perfect,” I say. Her death will be just one more reason the German people will accept me as King Jack’s bride and their queen.

  Turning on the heels of my buckled bridal boots, I peer at my reflection. My complexion has taken a green tone to it. “Find Doc and have him brought to me immediately. Hunt him down. He can’t have gone far. Tonight he lives and the others will die.”

  “As you wish,” Kommandt says, turning toward the entrance to my room.

  I straighten the halo trimmed with tulle and antique white roses. “One last thing.”

  It pauses at the doorway, waiting for my response.

  “Toll the bells. It’s time for a wedding.”

  It’s been several hours since our encounter with Leon, and other than the harmony the forest life brings, it is silent. While Ginger forges through the forest, I’m a prisoner to my thoughts.

  I’ve never murdered anyone before. Sure, I’ve killed animals for food, but only what was necessary to feed the villagers back at home. Even Timothy was mostly made of metal, and I’m not all that sure there was anything human left of him. But Leon was flesh and bone. While I know that I had no choice—he would’ve strangled Ginger if I hadn’t—I still feel the weight of taking another person’s life.

  “Who was Leon?” I ask, finally unable to resolve his death.

  “He wasn’t a good man, but he also wasn’t always that bad,” Ginger says. “My pa told him if he could catch me to put a ring on my finger he could have me. Fortunately, I was fast, and Pa taught me to fight as good as any of the Zwergs. Several of his proposals ended up with an open wound and his tail tucked between his legs.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you?” I ask.

  Ginger stops and turns back to me. “Bother me?”

  “Yeah, the fact we’ve just taken his life,” I say.

  “First off, we didn’t kill him. You did. And thankfully so, because if you hadn’t, that would be my dead body lying out there for rats to devour. I don’t know about you, but being a feast for rodents and bugs was not on my agenda today,” she says.

  “Second, of course it bothers me. Who wants to end the life of another, whether good or bad? Even those beastly tin monkeys don’t deserve to die,” she says.

  Timothy’s death weighs heavier on me.

  “But what choice do we have? We either surrender to the fact that each battle is our last or fight and be haunted with the lives we’ve taken,” she says.

  Not feeling at all better, I frown.

  “So, yes, I feel bad. Taking someone’s life is never an easy burden to carry. But you also saved a life. Two, in fact.”

  “Two?” I ask.

  “If you hadn’t done anything, if you let your conscience dictate that his life should’ve been spared, I would be dead, but you would be next,” she says. “He was ordered to get rid of us, not just me.”

  She’s right, but I think his death will always burden me. He is the only human I have murdered. Recently, I’ve seen my fair share of lives being taken, but their blood has never been shed by my own hands. Not until now.

  She can tell by my silence that I’m not convinced. “Look, we live in a time in which only those who fight survive. Certainly you’ve seen this yourself over the last few years?” Ginger says.

  Nodding, I think of how my world became exponentially more dangerous the day the Labyrinth walls burned to the ground. No longer were we fighting bears and wolves. Machines and hybrid beasts became our new worry, and they were deadlier when not confined by the maze. And now it’s those who are flesh and bone, like Leon, that I have to fear. Is there no stop to what will become an enemy?

  “But is killing others the only option?” I ask.

  “Isn’t that what has been done to your family? To your village?” she asks.

  I swallow hard, trying not to think of the day I found my village in ruins, with no survivors.

  “Thi
s war wasn’t started by people like you or me. It was started by someone who had absolutely no regard for the lives of others. Not for King Osbourne, not for the people of England, not for your village or mine on the Emerald Isle. How many more lives must be taken before we stand up to the evil in this world? At what point do we cross the line of respecting humanity, no matter how awful it is, and finally stop the death that it brings?” Ginger says.

  I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, unsure how to respond. How to put into words how I feel seeing this side of the battle. She’s right. Evil should never win, but I still can’t resolve in myself that murdering them is the only way.

  Something behind her catches my eye. The brief glint of moonlight flashes off a blade.

  I’m not sure if it’s the expression in my face, the reflection in my eyes, or just sheer instinct, but Ginger reacts. Pushing me out of the way, she spins and drops to her knees, pulling both maces out in one movement. Stumbling back, I feel the whoosh of the blade as it barely misses me. Ginger swings her weapons, but the silent figure leaps, her blades flying beneath his feet.

  “I was wondering when you’d make an appearance, Crowe,” Ginger grunts out, dodging the sharp scythe.

  “And here I am,” Crowe says, his words muffled. Sickles, pruning shears, and a pointed trowel hang from his belt.

  My feet are frozen in place as I take in the person … or is it a creature? Although it has the form of a human, it is far more frightening than any person I’ve ever met. Mesh bandages appear grafted on to Crowe’s face and exposed arms, giving him the impression of having burlap skin. Aviator goggles obscure his eyes. A thick cord is stitched through his lips, sealing his mouth shut. This creature is clothed in ripped and dirty rags. If his appearance isn’t horrifying enough, the scythe in his hands is stained with old blood.

  Ginger throws herself to the ground and rolls as the creature swings his scythe again, just centimeters from her flattened body. The momentum throws Crowe off balance, giving Ginger time to get to her feet. They barrage each other with swift swipes of their weapons, each managing with extraordinary agility.