The Warlock of Oz

The Aftermath

In a few moments, the battalion of soldiers I had sent for arrived with Ripper and Veera at the head. They clapped their fists to their chests in salute.

“Lord Ronan,” Ripper said respectfully. “We have successfully claimed the surrender of the citizens of the Emerald City with minimum casualties for our forces.”

“Well done General,” I replied. “The mage, Gregoir, he is not present with you?”

“No my lord,” Veera said. “He remained on the battlefield, tending to the wounded and enforcing compliancy from some of the resistant citizens.”

I nodded as I sat down on the ruined throne. “Good. Tomorrow we will assemble the resistors and execute them in the courtyard. We must show these people what will happen if they resist my rule.”

“An excellent decision milord,” Ripper spoke up. “But if I may, what is to be done with the witch?” He pointed at Glinda, her unconscious form still imprisoned in the floor of the throne room.

I tapped my cane against the floor as the stone deteriorated and forced her out. “Take her to the dungeons.” I ordered. “I may yet have use of her.” A duo of mercenaries grabbed her by the arms and carried her limp body out of the throne room.

“Will that be all, milord?” asked Ripper.

 “Not quite,” I replied. “Order the remaining citizens to return to their homes. The city will need repairing, and we can use them as a ready supply of workers. However, arrest all remaining members of the city guard. As a collective, they could be used to begin a revolution among the people. We shall execute them on the morrow, along with all resistors.”

Ripper bowed his head. “Very well milord.” He gestured for his men to leave. As he turned to follow, he stopped. “What is that?” he asked, pointing at something on the floor.

I rose from the throne and walked over to where he was pointing. I bent over and picked up Glinda’s severed hand. I pocketed her wand as I studied the hand. It no longer looked as it did before. Black boils appeared and the blood ran the colour of ink as I felt the remnants of an illusion wear off. Realization struck me as I dropped the appendage. I turned and quickly walked towards the door.

“Lord Ronan?” Veera asked.

“Follow me,” I replied anxiously. “Ripper, you as well. The rest of you, carry out my orders. We must get to the dungeons.”

We arrived at the palace dungeons within minutes. It was a surprisingly empty place, the dark stone cells devoid of prisoners. All except one. The former queen of Oz resided in the only occupied cell. Glinda lay on the ground in a ball, chains connecting her to the floor by her ankles. I approached the cell with Ripper and Veera in tow.

“Witch! Get up!” I shouted, pounding on the bars.

Glinda lifted her head weakly. “Should I be honoured to get a personal visit from the new king?” she muttered. The gem on my cane flashed brightly as Glinda’s body contorted in pain. Her arm moved by my will and bent at an unnatural angle, her elbow popping and breaking. The witch screamed in agony, tears streaming down her face.

“You are in no position to mock me Glinda!” I yelled. “Lower your illusion or I will break your other arm!”

Glinda laughed pitifully and collapsed. Suddenly, her features began to change. Her face and limbs were covered in black boils, and her veins showed a dangerous black tinge. “I should be thankful…” she whispered. “The very curse you set upon this city will grant me a swift death. If nothing more than you will be denied the pleasure of torturing me…”

I eyed the black tinge to her skin before smirking. “Oh no, witch. I still need you, and the people of this city. Your last wish will not be granted.” I cackled with malevolence as I drew a knife from my coat and ran it across my arm, drawing a thick stream of blood. “From my blood the curse is born…” I chanted. “And from my blood it shall meet its demise…” A large amount of blood floated into the air and evaporated into a cloud of red mist. The cloud surged forward and surrounded Glinda, before dissipating and streaming through the window. When the mist was gone, so was the black tinge in Glinda’s skin. The boils melted away and the darkness in her veins receded.

“No!” shouted Glinda, realizing she had been robbed of her swift death. She crumbled to the ground and began sobbing.

“Oh yes,” I said, laughing darkly. The blood still flowing from my arm pooled around the wound, before glowing brightly and melting away. When it was gone, the wound had closed, leaving naught but a thin scar. “There is power in blood witch. Something you will soon learn…”