The Fairy Queen E-Book

Russell Nohelty

• Herausgeber: Wannabe Press
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

The Queen of Oz is dead. Long live the queen.

Queen Aine certainly didn’t expect for Rose to be dusted five seconds after her coronation, but in the aftermath of the assassination, she became the new ruler of Oz, and is out for revenge against those that conspired against her friend. 

Meanwhile, back on Earth, a soulless Rose awakes from her coma, emotionless and numb to the world. She desperately longs to return to The Dream Realm, but her only hope in doing so rests with finding Hypnos and convincing him to reclaim his birthright. But how do you find a god that wants to remain hidden?

That is a question Nimue desperately needs to know the answer to, as her salvation rests in locating the God of Nightmares, Epialas, and securing his blessing before her newly acquired powers tear her apart.

If you love mythology, fairy tales, magical fantasy adventures, political intrigue, high stakes action, and star-crossed lovers, then you’ll enjoy the third book in The Obsidian Spindle Saga.

Get it now.

Leseprobe

The Fairy Queen

THE OBSIDIAN SPINDLE SAGA

BOOK THREE

RUSSELL NOHELTY

Contents

Special thanks

1. Aine

2. Chelle

3. Rose

4. Red

5. Nimue

6. Chelle

7. Aine

8. Rose

9. Red

10. Nimue

11. Aine

12. Rose

13. Nimue

14. Chelle

15. Red

16. Rose

17. Chelle

18. Aine

19. Nimue

20. Red

21. Aine

22. Rose

23. Nimue

24. Aine

25. Chelle

26. Red

27. Chelle

28. Nimue

29. Red

30. Aine

31. Red

32. Rose

33. Nimue

34. Aine

35. Chelle

36. Nimue

37. Rose

38. Red

39. Nimue

40. Chelle

41. Red

42. Aine

43. Rose

44. Aine

45. Red

46. Nimue

47. Rose

48. Chelle

49. Red

50. Nimue

51. Rose

52. Aine

53. Chelle

54. Red

55. Nimue

56. Aine

57. Rose

58. Chelle

59. Aine

60. Nimue

61. Red

62. Rose

Author’s Note

The Red Rider Preview

Red

Nimue

Also By Russell Nohelty

About the Author

Special thanks

Adriane Ruzak, Amanda Jackson, Angela, Anthony Bachman, Caledonia, Caspar Williams, Celeste and Bryan Cornish, Chad Bowden, Chris Call, Chris Meeson, Christopher C Epping, Christopher Prew, CJ Ives Lopez, Daniel Biittner, Daniel Groves, Dave Baxter, Dave Goldberg, David Chamberlain, David Drummond, David Straube, Desiree Duffy, DJ Inzeo, Ed S, Edward Nycz Jr., Emerson Kasak, Erin Congdon, Gabriella Farmer, Gary Phillips, Hannah Long, Hollie Buchanan II, Jeff Lewis, Jennifer & Charlie Geer, John C. Heller, Johnny Britt, Jon Tugan, Joshua Bowers, Joshua Pantalleresco, Juli, Kimberly Herout, Larry Gilman, Lincoln City Archery, Lisa Homolka, Lisa Lyons, Matthew Johnson, Maxi Organ, Melissa Showers, Michael Kingston, Michael Perler, Mike Jones, Monkey King Comics, Nic Nelson, Nick Smith, Paul Rose Jr., Per Stalby, Rachel Adams, Rhel ná DecVandé, Richard A Williams, Rob MacAndrew, Rowan, S.A. McClure, Salvatore Puma, Scott Kilburn, Stephen Ballentine, Steven "Waffles" Lane, Taiga Char, Talinda Willard (everfai), Victoria Nohelty, and Walter Weiss

The Fairy Queen

Book 3 of the Obsidian Spindle Saga

By:

Russell Nohelty

Edited by:

Leah Lederman

Proofread by:

Katrina Roets

Cover by:

JV Arts

Formatting by:

Turbo Kitten Industries

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. The Fairy Queen. First edition. July 2021. Copyright © 2020 Russell Nohelty. Written by Russell Nohelty.

Chapter1

Aine

Everyone of royal blood needed to die before my reign as queen over the Land of Oz could truly begin. Every single one of Nimue’s sycophants would have to be disposed of so we didn’t have a repeat of what happened to Rose, the last queen. I would not be assassinated. I’d lived too long and seen too much to get taken down like that.

“You can’t do this!” Cyrano said, tears falling down his long, ugly nose. His piteous, bloodshot eyes stared at me with a combination of contempt and nervousness.

“I can do whatever I want,” I snarled. “I am the queen. Or have you forgotten that already?”

Cyrano and his accomplices were responsible for Rose’s death. She’d only been queen for about eleven seconds before they killed her, and I wouldn’t let them get away with it. She was my friend. The ancillary benefit was that their deaths led me directly to the most powerful throne in Urgu, but that was just a fortuitous coincidence.

“Please,” Odysseus sobbed. He was the tall and strapping master of war, crying like a child. Even hundreds of years of life didn’t prepare him for his own death. “Have some heart.”

I nearly laughed. “Did you have heart when you plotted to kill the rightful queen of Oz?”

I had already sent the council of bishops from the Church of the Six to their deaths over the edge of the royal balcony. Ozma, a previous queen, used to address her adoring subjects there. That was before she was usurped and then eventually thrown from the same balcony by the one who had deposed her, the wicked witch. Nimue.

The council, along with the Church’s leader, had led the charge to kill Rose. Grand Pious Edwina plunged the dagger into the poor girl’s back herself, and then had the audacity to smile afterward. They had to die first, to send a message. Nobody dared kill the clergy. After all, the Church of the Six served all Urgu, not just the Land of Oz, and I had wiped them off the face of the continent with nary a second thought.

Once the bishops were gone, I had dusted the entirety of the royal court for all the Emerald City to witness. They cheered for it. The Church of the Six was an antiquated institution and the nobles had held down the masses for too long. Now, all that was left for me to do was to finish the small council and then I could start rebuilding the Land of Oz.

“We didn’t mean to do it.” Antonio, master of coin, sniffled as he looked at the crowd of Ozians screaming for his head. “We were doing what was best for Oz!”

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” I spat back at him. “I was a queen since before I came to this place and have ruled the Enchanted Woods for centuries. Do you really think I know not how to take care of conspirators?” I knew the people demanded blood. They craved it. Nimue knew that, and I had tried to impart that advice to Rose, but the girl didn’t believe me, and it led to her death. She was too kind-hearted to rule.

“We didn’t—” Cyrano almost lost his footing from atop the railing where he stood precariously. “We weren’t…”

“What?” I asked. Rose was my only friend, the only person who had treated me kindly in decades, and I would have my revenge for her. I would solidify my rule. “Expect to be caught?”

“We were just doing what was best for Oz,” Odysseus pleaded, snot bubbling in his nose. “Can’t you see that?”

“Yes, I can see that you truly believe the lie,” I said, floating above them. My small size would have been comical compared to their stature if I didn’t ooze power from every pore. I knew how to command a room. We fae had to learn quickly about the true dastardly nature of humans passed down from generation to generation. If we didn’t, we would be subject to witness it firsthand. “The worst part is that you won’t admit your treachery and die with dignity.”

I looked each counselor in the eye, the purple of my robes reflected in each conspirator’s face. My mother thought that my choice of purple would make me look soft, but I knew it projected royalty. “And wasn’t it convenient that what was best for Oz happened to be the best for your coffers?”

“That was a coincidence!” Antonio shouted. “The girl could not rule. You saw it. She was a child, and an outsider. She had no knack for⁠—”

“We were all outsiders once!” I bellowed. “She was chosen by Hypnos himself, and decreed to rule by divine right until…” The thought of Rose’s body deteriorating into ash stopped me, momentarily. I lifted my chin, maintaining my air of invincibility. I could not choke up, not now. And there was nothing more to say. I gave a nod to the Mountain People who held sharp lances to the backs of the former small council. “Drop them.”

The Mountain People that Red and Chelle rescued from the Gates of Droangor proved to be most loyal after Rose’s assassination. They were instrumental in rounding up the nobles who begged sanctuary from the Queen’s Guard and provided insulation from the Queen’s guard that was still inexplicably loyal to Nimue. Plus, their monstrous appearance made even the most battle-hardened soldier quiver. Those that plotted murder thought twice before crossing me, as I had my own army of elite soldiers protecting me.

My Mountain soldiers turned their glowing eyes to me and nodded back. They pushed their lances into the backs of the sniveling conspirators, who fell off the balcony with a collective scream. They tumbled through the air and smashed against the ground, breaking into a million pieces of ash on the cobblestone courtyard.

I watched the citizens of the Emerald City cheering as the men’s ashes floated into the air. “Justice for your queen!” I shouted, and again the crowd erupted with cheers. They chanted my name, over and over again. The rapturous joy on their faces proved their loyalty to me. I rode into their hearts on the strings of Rose’s kind soul. The common people loved Rose for toppling the Wicked Witch and were heartbroken when she was murdered.

In their grief, I brought stability. I had mentored Rose and trained her to become a queen during her short days on the throne. They knew me as a fair, if not feared ruler, and I swore to bring justice to their beloved queen. Yes, I took the throne when Rose died, but the people of Oz let me keep it. I was their queen. There was no one besides me who had a claim to it, since I’d killed all of them. Until Hypnos appointed a new ruler—which had taken over a hundred years the last time around—I would rule the land.

“A new era of wonder has begun!” I shouted to the crowd. “Long live the Emerald City!”

The throne of Oz had never been my birthright, but its power was something I coveted in my youth. The Enchanted Woods had its charm, but Oz was the most powerful province in Urgu, and in lieu of escaping the Dream Realm outright, it was a fine prize. Where Rose, the Dreamer, had failed to control the nobles, and the Wicked Witch had failed to open the Obsidian Spindle, I would be successful. I had secured justice for Rose, my friend, and now I would journey through the Obsidian Spindle to my destiny, my return to Earth.

I had seen the door open once, only once, for a single shining moment when the Gorgon, Chelle, walked inside it with her beloved Rose’s ashes. The door shut behind her. Now I knew it could be opened with the right spell, and Nimue knew the spell. I would find her, even if it took a century, and make my way back to Earth, and away from Urgu forever.

“FAIRY!” a voice boomed. “Meet your end.”

Black ooze inked through the sky like oil creeping across water, until the sky was sackcloth black and the wind began to howl. Below, the citizens of Oz screamed and fled in all directions. We had all heard the voice before.

Hera.

She was on her way to destroy the land of Oz and take the Obsidian Spindle by force. An onyx mist rose into the air and crashed through the street like a tidal wave, sweeping up my subjects in its wake.

Shadow Demons. Hera controlled them. They would destroy everything. I would be nothing but a queen of ashes.

Before Rose died, she had raised the defenses on the castle. No magical being that meant to do me harm could enter the castle without my permission.

I just had to hope it was powerful enough to keep out a god.

Chapter2

Chelle

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

My fists had been scraped raw from slamming them against the door to the Obsidian Spindle for hours, but the door wouldn’t budge, even an inch. My blood smeared across the oaken door as I slammed against it. “Let me out!

“Magna augue!” I shouted. A fireball swelled between my hands. It grew to the size of a basketball before I pushed it out toward the door, where it exploded without leaving so much as a scratch. I smelled my burning blood as it dissipated, mixed with the sweet smell of smoke as the remnants of the extinguished flame floated into the darkness of the Spindle that was my prison.

“Fulgur inspiratione!” A blue shock of lightning grew from my fingertips, and I flung it at the door like I was Emperor Palpatine. The lightning shook my hands, but I didn’t let up for a full minute, and when I was done, the only thing left to show my effort was a black stain of electricity on the door.

There was no way to open the door back to Urgu. Between my endless sessions sewing the Quilt of Life together with the other fates, Clotho and Lachesis, I would come to the door and try to open it, desperate to end my obligation to the Gorgon women who held me in the Obsidian Spindle.

“I am a hostage,” I muttered.

“You aren’t a hostage,” I heard from behind me. I turned to see Clotho standing on the black stairs, her ancient snakes coiled silently around her head. She smiled at me. “If you were a hostage, then we would send for ransom from somebody who cares about you. The only two who care about you here are my sister and me. And you are not a prisoner either, since you chose to remain here with us.”

“Semantics.” It was true, though: I had entered a contract with them and become a fate after their sister Atropos was murdered by Nimue. That crazy witch opened the Obsidian Spindle for the first time in a century, and what did she do but kill one of the fates?

“We are also stuck here, and that is an appropriate term. The three of us, stuck together, after having made a choice.”

Only a Gorgon could become a fate, and I just happened to be Gorgon enough to fit the bill after the death of their sister, Atropos. Wrong place at the wrong time, or right place at the right time, depending on how you looked at it, and who was doing the looking.

“I just want to go home.”

“You are home,” Clotho said, sweetly. I liked her more than her ornery sister, but I saw myself in Lachesis. I think she saw herself in me, too, which was why she was so hard on me. Clotho was kind.

It was an easy choice, to become a fate, because it saved Rose, the woman I loved more than life itself, and sent her back to Earth. If I hadn’t made that choice, the door back to Earth couldn’t be opened, and Rose would be damned to ashes for eternity.

Now, at least she was back on Earth where she was safe and could live a real life. I would die for that girl, so the least I could do was suffer through the mindless tedium of sewing the Quilt of Life for an epoch or two.

“I hate it here.”

“That’s how it felt for us, too,” Clotho said. “But in time, you grow to love the isolation, and the quiet.” Clotho held her hand out. “Come, we have a surprise for you.”

“I’ve seen your surprises,” I replied. “I haven’t liked one yet.”

I looked down at my fingers, bloody and raw from a combination of banging on the door to the Spindle and working the needle and thimble for days on end. Gingerly, I placed my hand in hers.

“You will like this one, I believe,” Clotho said. She led me up the stairs.

That was how it had been since I came to them. They asked questions as statements and expected me to follow them blindly. I had never followed anything blindly in my entire life. I never believed in the will of gods, or the fickle finger of fate, even though I was now one of them.

I was no willing subject. I meant what I said. The fact that I couldn’t leave meant I was a prisoner. Even though I had made this choice, I regretted it. Only thoughts of Rose made it worthwhile, and the belief that she was safe. I held onto those thoughts and that belief every time the regret overwhelmed me.

“None have ever taken the mantle of fate willingly,” Clotho said, walking up the dark stairwell that led to the Spindle’s only room at the top. That was where Clotho spun the thread of another lonely soul bound for the afterlife, and Lachesis knit it into a patch. It was my job to take the patch and sew it into the Quilt of Life.

“Why did you choose to stay?” I asked Clotho.

“Similar to you, actually,” she replied. “Though it was a boy. He was very sick, and my sacrifice kept him alive, for a time. They all die, eventually. I remember the day Lachesis weaved his patch, just like she weaved those of the ones she had loved and hoped to save. It was the last time I shed a tear until the death of my sister.”

“That’s sad,” I replied.

“Quite,” Clotho nodded. “But in time, I grew to love the work. It is important, and there are so few truly important jobs. I take satisfaction in that, and in the simple act of remembering the dead, and my part in all of it.”

“That doesn’t sound like much,” I said.

“It’s not much, but it is all we have.” Clotho walked into the room. When I followed, she sat to the left of her sister, Lachesis, who was silently putting another patch together. Next to her was a stack of patches, waiting for me. I looked down at them. Maybe she was right. Maybe there was joy in it, at least in the duty of it. Each of those pieces represented a life, and their memory would always live on in the Quilt of Life.

“Sit,” Clotho said with a smile.

I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can sew any more today.”

“That is not your choice,” Lachesis said. Her voice was hoarse. “Sit. Down.”

She treated me like a mule to break, and it often took all of my willpower not to burn her to ash like Nimue had done to her sister. “You talk a big game for an old woman. Remember, I have a body, which makes me the most powerful thing in this room. I could take you both.”

I was the only being in all Urgu with a body. Everyone else came through in their dreams, as a soul, or as the result of an overactive imagination, but I came through a door guarded by Mydnyte, a servant of Nox, the goddess of darkness.

Clotho chuckled. “You should not underestimate us, but we will not force you. Nothing will force you, but a feeling, deep in your soul, will compel you to finish the job we started, eventually.”

“You mock everything we stand for,” Lachesis added. “Atropos⁠—”

“Died,” I said. “She died to make room for me. I know. And you hate it. I know that. I still don’t understand why, though.”

Clotho smiled. “We will tell you. But first, we have a gift for you.”

I eyed her suspiciously. “I don’t know what you could give me that I want.”

“We have many powers you have not seen,” Lachesis said.

“And we will teach you one,” Clotho said. “We will teach you how to reach out and see your beloved.”

“Rose?” An excited shudder rolled through me.

“Yes,” Lachesis said. “But be warned. Do not dwell in the land of the living, or you will be lost, and see things that you do not wish to see. The memories will wash over you, and you will be overwhelmed by what you will witness.”

“I can handle it,” I said. “I’ve seen⁠—”

“You’ve seen nothing,” Lachesis snapped. “Atropos was wrong to give up her life for you, and Clotho is wrong to keep you close. You are far too hot-headed for the work we require.”

“But she is perfect for what will come next,” Clotho said. “It has been foreseen.”

“What is next?” I asked, throwing my hands in the air. I had pieced together enough to know that something big was coming, and I had a part in it. “Will you please just tell me instead of talking in riddles?”

“Soon,” Clotho replied. “But first, we will show you that which you seek above all else.”

I sat down on the mat next to Lachesis. What I wanted more than anything was to see Rose, and if this was a chance, I would listen.

“Close your eyes,” Lachesis said. I did.

“Reach out with your feelings and think of Rose. Think of her and let your feelings for her wash over you. Let the most powerful memory of your time together drown you in its happiness.”

I thought back to the first time Rose ever saw the snakes that hissed above my head. I was as frightened as I had ever been. Fighting legions of monster hunters didn’t make me a fraction as nervous as I was when I came out to her as a monster. No mortal human had ever seen my greatest shame—my truest self. What if she recoiled in horror? I would be forced to start a new life.

But she didn’t scream or run away. She simply smiled, and touched them each in turn, sweetly, before turning to me. “They’re beautiful,” she said. “And so are you.”

Tears flowed down my face, and suddenly the dark behind my eyes washed away, and Rose’s face stared back at me. Not the memory of Rose, but her actual face. I don’t know how I could tell that it wasn’t a memory, or a hallucination, but I knew it was real. She was alive, and she was okay.

For the first time in days, I smiled.

Chapter3

Rose

I wanted to hate myself, my life. I wanted to hate Chelle. I wanted to hate something; anything. Even the littlest thing in the whole world.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I didn’t hate anything. I didn’t love anything, either. I didn’t feel…anything. Ever since returning from the Dream Realm, I hadn’t felt one iota of pain or joy. I had no feelings about moving back in with my parents, or having to commute to school, or selling the van that Chelle and I lived in for almost a year. It still smelled like her when I dropped it off.

I almost thought I could feel something then for a fleeting moment, but as quickly as the feeling came upon me, it drifted away. Even that feeling, strong as it should have come to wreck me, never came too close to the surface. It was like a distant acquaintance on a faraway beach, waving to you from the horizon. You could place a hint of recognition on their face, but you had no real memory of them. That was how the most intense feeling came upon me now.

All I could do was look upon my life with dispassionate inhumanity, as if I wasn’t the one living my life, but a bystander watching a boring movie, hoping for it to be over soon. I barely recognized myself in the mirror. My eyes were dull and colorless, except for the blood red veins that splintered from my irises. My dark blonde hair fell onto my face like an ugly mat, and I barely had the energy to brush it away before turning from the mirror and putting on a pair of dirty blue jeans to compliment my stained t-shirt.

I had to take on summer school so that I didn’t fall behind on my class load. The world had moved on, even if mine came to a dead stop when I fell into that diabetic coma. It seemed like a lifetime ago I’d been in Urgu.

All in all, I had been in the Dream Realm for less than a month. Upon my return, it took the rest of the semester before I felt well enough to venture outside the house, and by then I had registered an incomplete in all my classes.

At least going to school got me out of the house.

I stepped out of the double wide trailer I shared with my parents and out into the yard, if you could call it that. It was mostly a dirt patch with two fold-out chairs and a small grill we sometimes used to cook hot dogs.

“Off so soon?” my mother said, coming around the side of the trailer where she was hanging clothes on the line. I didn’t need to be able to feel, to remember that I hated her. The memories were strong with the misery she put me through. Still, it was only the memory of a feeling, and not the feeling itself.

“Yeah,” I said. “Got class.”

My parents agreed to add me back to their insurance when I told them that Chelle was gone. Luckily, too, otherwise I would have to pay tens of thousands of dollars in medical bills for my stay in the hospital. They never let me forget it. Every time I tried to avoid them, they made sure I knew that the only reason I wasn’t drowning in debt was because of them.

“Don’t be too late,” Mom said. “I worry. You know, after what we went through this year.”

As if them kicking me out of their house was my fault. It wasn’t my fault I was gay. It was their fault they disowned me because of it, and now they thought that because Chelle is stuck in the Dream Realm it meant I wasn’t gay anymore, like they can just sweep it all under the rug.

Out of sight, out of mind I guess, and I would never tell them differently. I would never tell them anything ever again. I needed a place to stay for now, but once I could pull my life together, I was gone, forever.

“I won’t,” I lied. I had no idea when I would be home. Hopefully, I would never come home again.

Mom’s eyes narrowed. “I got next month’s insulin for you when you get back.”

Insulin. I needed it, and it cost hundreds of dollars a month without their insurance. I tried to live without it once…and I ended up in a diabetic coma, clinging to life, while my soul was stuck in the Dream Realm.

“K,” I said with all the passion I could muster, which was basically none. The implication was clear: If I didn’t come home early, I wouldn’t get my medicine. If I didn’t get my medicine, I would die. Great mom. Little did she know I had a stash that I kept at school in case I decided to run away and never come back. I used the cash from selling the van to make sure I had an escape plan.

I wished that I could fry her with a bolt of lightning, or a fireball, or manipulate her mind, but I no longer had powers. Chelle saw to that when she sent me back to Earth. I was back to being a nothing burger from nowhereville, instead of a Queen with magic bestowed by the gods…and the worst part of it all was that I didn’t even have Chelle. She left me alone, in worse shape than when I left.

A twinge of hatred washed over me, then blew away as fast as it came. I was left alone with my nothingness, staring at my mother. I jumped into the beat-up Civic hatchback I’d bought with the money from the van—what was left after buying an emergency stash of insulin—and lumbered off down the dirt road.

Chapter4

Red

I couldn’t stay in the castle, or the Land of Oz, once Aine took over. I had been wholly committed to the royal line of Oz for over two hundred years, but I just couldn’t stomach it anymore, not with all the political intrigue Aine would surely bring. After the church’s betrayal of Rose, I ended my commitment to the royal line and set out for the only being that could bring balance to Urgu: Hypnos.

He still existed somewhere in The Dream Realm. He had to. He had granted his power to Rose once, which meant he still had some connection to the Dream Realm, and he was trapped somewhere he could not escape. No matter how long I had to wander, I would find him and force him to take his place ruling Oz, with a true queen under him to carry out his dictums.

Aine was not the rightful queen, but she was not a usurper, either. Not in the technical sense, at least. Until Hypnos returned to bless another with his throne, there would be no true ruler, and I didn’t have the energy to fight for another queen.

“The boat will come for us soon,” Boudica said next to me.

Boudica was the queen of the Mountain people, even though the Celtic goddess Agrona technically had never bestowed a blessing on anyone. Boudica earned her way to her crown through defense of her land and service to her people; she kept it by being doggedly loyal to them.

She was one of only two people left in Urgu I trusted, and I had convinced her to join me. The other person I trusted was Balor, but he chose to stay in the Emerald City, defend its people and its queen, and eke out a better life a little at a time. Even though Aine was not the rightful ruler of Oz, Balor thought her a far cry better than any of the other nobles, and trusted her to rule fairly, or at least more fairly than the other choices.

He had seen her with Rose and believed her heart to be true. She was one of only two in the whole coronation who were not found to be conspiring against her. That wasn’t much of an endorsement, since the only other who was not conspiring was Nimue, the Wicked Witch, and she had sent all of Oz into darkness for a century.

Boudica saw the value in my quest, and for the good of all Urgu chose to accompany me past the Wall of Itherium. She knew more theories about where Hypnos might be hidden than anyone. The Mountain People were travelers and storytellers. They were large and menacing, the perfect mercenaries, and they returned to the Mountains with tales from all corners of Urgu. Boudica made sure she heard all of those stories.

“I hate the Sandlands,” I said.

I knew, though, that of all the places in Urgu, most stories of Hypnos’s disappearance came from the Sandlands. I had traveled there before searching for the Cave of Wonder, Hypnos’s supposed resting place, but always came up empty.

Legend had it that Hypnos was contained in a small lamp that prevented him from escaping unless it were rubbed by a human. The only people with memory of the cave were Sekhmet’s people of the Sands, who moved across the Earth like the wind, never bound to one place, ever shifting in the desert breeze.

“I have been to the Sandlands before, Boudica, and only left with sand in every crevice. How certain are you of this information?”

“Hrm,” Boudica grumbled. “Even information from the most trustworthy source may not be accurate, as is the way of these things.”

“My last time in the Sandlands, Shaina and I barely left with our lives.”

Shaina was one of the fiercest warriors in all the Sandlands, or she was until she was dusted. She ended up at the right hand of the Soothsayer, the most powerful sorcerer of the Mountain People. We’d tried desperately to find the cave, but came up empty even after a year of searching, and I turned my attention to the Bogs, and the Dark Domain, before returning to Ozma’s service in the Land of Oz.

“You are a noble warrior,” Boudica said. “But you are not a natural tracker.”

I scoffed. “I am an excellent tracker.”

“Perhaps in Oz, but to me you are barely competent. The sands move like an organism. They do not stay still for anyone, and only a master tracker can find their way to their destination.”

“I had Shaina.”

Boudica laughed. “She was young and impetuous. You can tell because she was dusted. I am as old as the mountains, and I have been tracking since I was young here. Trust me, I will bring us to the Cave of Wonder.”

“If it exists. I have very little faith we will find anything.”

“Everything is faith, Belle. Everything.”

I smiled. I liked when she said my name. So few did. So few knew it, even if most knew my story, or some distortion of it told throughout the years. Those who knew I was the same Belle of legend had a habit of dying. All except for Balor.

Still, Balor chose his side, as did the Mountain People. They had been saved by Aine and given clemency by Rose, so they had a great and powerful reason to stay loyal to the queen, whoever she was, and however ill gotten her gains. Even Boudica could not convince them to leave the Emerald City to join us, especially when she told them her next journey would lead them past the Wall of Itherium. They had just escaped the Sandlands and the horrors of the Mountains and had no desire to return.

That left me with Boudica, who believed that Hypnos would bring order back to Urgu, and end the horrors of the Mountains, so she and her people could return home to their beloved realm.

“Come,” Boudica said. “The boat comes into port, and we must be on it or risk a week waiting for the next one.”

In the distance, a ship rose and crashed down over the waves of the dunes. It was a large wooden vessel, built to navigate the quicksand that separated the Sandlands from Oz. Boudica led us down the hill toward the dock. A skinny man with a long beard and cane held up his arms as we walked closer, signaling for us to stop. He had horns like a ram, a short beard braided down his chin, and eyes like a snake.

“Halt!” the man said. “What business do you have in the Sandlands?”

“Our business is our own,” Boudica replied.

“I’m afraid that is not good enough. Enemies of Sekhmet come from the north, and we must protect our borders.”

“Enemies? From the Mountains?”

“Yes,” the man said, pointing to Boudica’s red eyes and the purple neon strands that festooned her hair. “And you are clearly from there.”

Only the Mountain people had neon in their hair and glowing eyes. Only they wore all black leather from their shoulders to their feet, with wide armor to make them seem broader and more intimidating than they were in reality; it was a cunning illusion that brought fear to enemies and allies alike.

“We wish no quarrel with the Sandlands,” I replied. “We are on a quest.”

“A quest?” the man said. “And what be this quest?”

Boudica shook her head for me to stop, but I continued. “We seek the Cave of Wonder.”

“The Cave of Wonder?” the man scoffed. “Then you search for lies. You would do well to turn back now.”

“You’ve heard of it?” I asked.

“Nothing but ghost stories. Tales of treasure and magic throughout, and hogwash.”

“Be that as it may,” Boudica said, “we wish to enter the Sandlands and search for ourselves. We are not enemies of your people.”

I pulled a bag of dreams from my pocket, the currency of Urgu. I picked the shiniest pink ball and held it up to him. Inside the ball spun an image of a little girl playing in snow. A common dream, at a time when finding dreams was uncommon. “We offer a dozen dreams like this one for passage across the Quick Sea.”

The man bent to inspect the ball. “That is a high price. Ten times more than the cost.”

I nodded. “I ask that you bring us over by ourselves, and you speak of this to nobody, not even your closest confidant. This price buys your silence.”

“And no questions,” Boudica added. “All we want to hear is a ‘yes’ coming from your mouth. For every other word, we will reduce our price. Understood?”

The man nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” Boudica replied as the boat glided into port. “Then lead the way.”