Chapter 9
A sickening feeling in the deep in her gut woke Elphaba from her sleep, far too early for her liking. Waking, she saw Glinda across from her, still sound asleep. That in and of itself was a relief. Over the last few days, she had managed to avoid the blonde girl, as well as Fiyero, with very well-timed movements throughout campus. Elphaba had no intention of knowing what they thought of the whole situation and planned to keep it that way.
The uneasy feeling that had woken her remained. It was all too familiar, the same from that day on the train. Nothing good happened when Elphaba was washed over with the unsettling feeling, and there was nothing that made her think this time would be any different. She quickly dressed, far less meticulously than usual. She wore a black dress with a matching corset and sheer leggings, and layered it was an Emerald peacoat more suitable for the weather, cold as it was getting. Slipping on her boots and slinging her bag across her shoulder and slipped out of the room.
Nothing seemed out of sorts as she made her way to the gardens. Whatever had her on edge wasn’t something she had any control over at the moment. It was an odd, horrendible kind of clairvoyancy, to know that something seriously wrong would occur, and being completely unable to stop it. Rain told her not to dwell too much on such things, that if she had any control over what was to occur, it would be presented to her at the right time. It wasn’t something that Elphaba found comfort in.
--
Glinda woke to an empty room, as she had for the last couple of days now. She was starting to worry. As much as she often wished for her own dorm, or that she would never see Elphaba again, this was not what she had envisioned. Roommates saw each other almost every day, even the ones who hated one another. She had come to the realization that she had witnessed something important, something instrumental to Elphaba. Not the show she was putting on for everyone, but the person behind it all.
The thought devoured Glinda for the rest of the morning. At breakfast she played with her fruit, rolling the grapes back and forth with her fork. Several times Pfannee and ShenShen had to bring herself back to reality. This feeling, this hurt, it was new to Glinda. Could she possibly be feeling…guilty for what she did?
No, certainly not.
Glinda upland did not feel guilty. She did not do anything to feel guilty about. Never. So why did her chest hurt whenever she saw Elphaba’s empty bed? Why had she desperately have to stop herself from asking Fiyero if he thought about that night every time she saw him? It wasn’t fair. She never asked for Elphaba as a roommate. She had Pfannee and ShenShen and she would have been fine all of university with just those two by her side. Instead, she was swept up in the twister than was Elphaba, and she didn’t know how to get out.
With a toss of her pretty blonde curls, she did her best to shove down her thoughts. She had class to focus on. She was barely managing to stay above water in most of her classes, and she certainly wasn’t going to lose focus today of all days. Dr. Mair, a horse who specialized in magical studies and taught her Magic 101 class had managed to convince Madam Margarette to let the novice class sit in on her advanced seminar. This was Glinda’s chance to prove that she was worthy of moving up to her class next semester, and she wouldn’t waste it. As she made her way to the room, she found Fiyero already present, sitting at the end of the third row. Had he always been in the same class as her? Honestly, she had never noticed any of the other students, focused more on the lesson than anything else.
She artfully made her way through the standing and sitting students till she was able to sit next to the Prince. she saw Fiyero’s blue eyes wander across the room. It took her all of a second to figure out what had his attention. Elphaba was up front, reading out of one of her textbooks, reviewing the lesson material for the day. Elphaba’s hand was tapping nervously against the table. Every few seconds, her eyes broke away, looking around as if waiting for something to appear.
“She’s been like that for the last twenty minutes,” Fiyero said. “It’s not normal, she’s usually much more composed.”
“Yeah,” Glinda agreed. “Something doesn’t seem right.”
Fiyero turned to her, about to say something. The sound of hooves drowned him out. Dr. Mair and Madam Margarette strode to the center of the room.
“Good morning, everyone,” Dr. Mair spoke loudly, for all to hear. “Today we will be lucky enough to watch the advanced sorcery seminar. Unlike our class- which touches but a shallow end of the depthless ocean that is magic and does not tamper with it by any means- the advanced seminar focuses on spell casting, control of abilities, and power in magic used. I will give the floor to Madam Margarette to explain further.”
Margarette took the stage with ease, as if she was born for the attention.
“As of late, my students have been learned how to alter the flow of nature for the greater good. This could mean bringing rain to an area with drought. Stopping floods from wiping away homes, smothering fires before they spread and destroy most everything in their path, or holding the earth firm as it shakes and rumbles,” Margarette explained. “Today, you will see several of my students attempts at such tasks. After I provide an example of the proper outcome, of course. Miss Pinny, you will be the first demonstration.”
The class looked around, not seeing anyone or anything moving. It took a minute before something furry scurried across the floor before being picked up by Madam Margarette. She placed the small creature on the desk before moving out of the way, revealing a Guinea pig.
“Hello everyone,” A high pitched squeak came from the Animal. “My name is Pinny, and I am from the lowlands in Gilikin. I will be attempting to cast a rain cloud.”
Madam Margarette held out her hand, her palm facing towards the ceiling as she began to speak.
“aquam ex aere;
cadit;
pluvia et omnia.”
Slowly swirls of mist began to congregate in the palm Madam Margarette, with each passing second, they grew, molding together until a fluffy cloud formed in the center of her hand. She pulled her arm back, letting her hand grasp the other behind her back. The cloud continued to grow for a few seconds more. Then it faded from white to gray. First it was a single drop, radiating across the entire silent room. Then slowly, it turned to a trinkle, and then a full-on pour. The circle in the room at which Margarette and Mair stood was now a small puddle. Then Margarette waved her hand, and in the blink of an eye, the cloud had vanished along with the water coating the floor.
Glinda looked at the skill with stars in her eyes. She swore one day that would be her. A witch so powerful, she could make it rain with barely a word from her lip. The rest of the class seemed equally impressed, ohing and aahing. The seminar student on the other hand, looked put out by the whole ordeal, some seemed far too nervous, not wanting to perform against the headmistress. Then there was Elphaba, still on edge, but Glinda doubted it was about the demonstrations.
Pinny attempted the same spell. She was able to create the swirls of mist. they even began to come together to make a cloud. In the end, she was able to hold the spell, and it broke apart before it became much of anything. The pattern continued for a good portion of class. Madam Margarette would do an incredible show, only for her student to follow up with a far less impressive version. Glinda’s eyes shined with each show of the headmistresses’ abilities, often grabbing Fiyero’s arm tightly in excitement. Of course, her energy always faded as the students took the stage, utter unimpressed by their attempts at weather magic. Creating fires, moving water, shifting snow, it all looked flawless until the students attempted it, then it seemed an absolute disaster by comparison.
“Miss Elphaba,” Madam Margarette called to the girl. “It is your turn to present. I do hope you’ve prepared.”
There was an odd undertone to the way the headmistress spoke to Elphaba. For the others, it was as if this was another class activity. Yes, maybe a bit nerve racking, but nothing more seemed expected of them. It was a show of their skill level, not a test of it.
Elphaba’s hands feel harsh against the table as she pushed herself upwards. Each step heard the clacking of her black heel against the tile. A feeling swept over the room, one of tension that made the air feel thick and warm. Making her way to the back of the classroom, she leaned against the desk Pinny had sat on, her hands brushing against the smooth wood.
“And what will you be demonstrating for us today Miss Elphaba?”
Elphaba opened her mouth for a brief second. Then she closed it, tilting her head in thought. Then she let out a scoff before speaking once more.
“Ding Dong, the witch is dead.”
Madam Margarette looked at her with a rather pointed glare. Then the woman took a deep breath, composing herself. Clearly, if the woman was trying to get under Elphaba’s skin, the young witch was not afraid to do the same.
“A tornado then?”
“I believe the term most often cited is twister.”
There was a small bout of snickering throughout the room. Dr Mair gave her students a point look, and within seconds they fell in line. Margarette put her palm out once more, chanting a new set of words.
“ventus
per quem fluit;
citius nent;
ut fluit.”
The wind near her palm began to swirl. Within seconds, it formed into a circular cone of wind. A mini twister rustling in her hands, forcing her hair from her face. Then the headmistress closed her palm, and the twister vanished without a trace. The students looked on in awe at the show. They anticipated Elphaba’s failure, and so paid little attention to her, all eyes falling on Margarette.
“It’s rather small,” Elphaba said, seemingly unimpressed. “Wouldn’t you say.”
“Any bigger and it would disrupt the classroom,” Margarette defended. “Twisters are decidedly hard to control. Wind is a rather fickle element, Miss Elphaba.”
Elphaba seemed like she might respond, then she stopped. Her eyes darted swept the room, as if looking for the source of some sound, or a shadow she had barely caught a glimpse of in the corner of her eye. When nothing seemed to present itself, she took a deep breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth. Once again, her hands stretched across the smooth desk, the witch taking a relaxed stance as she closed her eyes and spoke.
““ventus
per quem fluit;
citius nent;
ut fluit.
Voluntas eius ad me pertinet;
et mihi soli.”
Wind swept through the classroom, down the stairs between the rows. It flew in through the window, cool and fresh. All of it spinning round and round till a cyclone stood in the center of the room. Despite the large influx of harsh air flowing through, the only thing that moved was the hair atop the heads of students and the professors. Elphaba continued to mumble the words under her breath, her witch’s mark glowing brilliantly, until she felt she had done a well enough job.
The cyclone stood a good foot above her and took up the majority of the center space in front of her and the headmistress. It truly was a marvelous thing, an act of nature that bent to her. She walked around the twister, clear in front of the rest of the class, and stuck her hand through the middle. Instead of being violently pushed away by the strong air, as she should have been, it bent around her. She opened her figures, letting the air pass through them, ever so close but never touching. Then she pursed her lips and blew air from her lungs against the twister, and with barely a whisper, it vanished completely. Silence took over the room, all the students looking at Elphaba like she was some saint or demon.
Madam Margarette cleared her throat, doing her best to bring the attention back to herself.
“That was certainly an impressive show of skill, Miss Elphaba,” she conceded. “Though it seems we are out of time, you all may go.”
Time stopped as students began standing up. The dread that had hung over Elphaba all day peaked in a terrifying crescendo. A darkness, circling swirling, and at the center of it, Fiyero Tiggular. There was no time to think, to debate what to do. She threw out her hands, pulled on the darkness that surround him like a cage.
“Fiyero” She screamed. “ Maledica, ego te tenentem locum.”
Fiyero stilled, the odd feeling of darkness and cold swirling around him. Elphaba moved closer towards him, her muscles tight, straining to hold onto some invisible strings. Her markings glowed more vividly than before, the green light breaking through the fabric. The curse pulled against her, trying to tear itself from her hands. It felt like a million blades against her palm, but she held firm.
“Don’t move,” this time, her voice was barely a whisper. “Please, just trust me.”
“Okay,” Fiyero said, keeping still as a statue.
Madam Margarette ran up to the stair below their row. With a wave of her hand, and a sparkling mist of red, black smoke became visible. As it solidified and straightened further from Fiyero, it morphed into thread that Elphaba held in her hand. The young witch’s eyes were turning red and glossy, tears forming from the pain, but she did not relent.
“What in the name of Oz is that?!” Glinda screamed.
It caused Fiyero to flinch, and as he did the cursed shifted with him. It pulled tighter against Elphaba, a surge of strength running through it. She let out a cry of pain, feeling as if her bone was being cut through.
“Miss Elphaba-,”
“I know,” Elphaba snapped at the headmistress. “There is a curse in my hands, and it is very strong. I bid you not to waste time talking to me and to actually do away with the damned thing.”
Margarette said nothing, instead turning to the line of threads of smoke. She mumbled words under her breath incoherent to the naked ear. Unlike the other spells she had cast this one went on for what seemed to be forever. One by one the threads began to snap, then disappear completely. With each thread that vanish, Elphaba let out a cry, the release of pressure from her invisible wounds felt like pulling glass from a deep cut, ripping into the nerves it had already damaged so thoroughly on the way in.
While it was no more than a few minutes, for Elphaba it felt like an eternity. When the last string snapped, she let out the worst cry of them all. Her knees collapsed beneath as she tried desperately to catch a breath that seemed to never come. In a fit of coughs, she held herself up against the floor. Blood and bile spewed from her mouth. Her nose and ears beginning to bleed as her coughs died down Fiyero rushed to her, taking her in his arm as he prepared to rush to the infirmary.
All the while students swarmed around them. Glinda rushed next to Fiyero, her hand hovering above her roommate’s head.
“Stop,” Margarette said. “No doctor can heal her malady. Follow me.”
Fiyero, not knowing what to do, listened to the Eastern Witch. He followed her through the halls to the teacher’s quarters, and up to her apartment at the top of the building. She had him carry Elphaba in and lay her on the couch, all the while Glinda followed behind like a sad puppy. She kneeled on the ground, her hand gently stroking Elphaba’s head.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered, terror clear in her voice. “And then we’ll forget everything before. I’ll be the best roommate. I’ll show you how to dress and do your hair, and how to talk to boys. We can go dancing at the OzDust, and don’t you dare say you don’t dance.”
Elphaba let out a sorry excuse for a laugh at that particular comment. It seemed so impossible, that as she was possibly dying from magical exhaustion, the person comforting her was Glinda. She hadn’t run away at the blood. Nor did she dare move as Elphaba coughed the red vicious liquid across her clothes. She stayed, her gentle touch giving a warmth Elphaba barely remembered from her childhood.
Fiyero came back, Margarette following his steps as fast as he could.
“Come now, bring her this way!”
As gently as he could, Fiyero lifted Elphaba into his arms. She was limp as a ragdoll, her muscles all but numb.
“Put her in the water! quickly now!”
They entered Margarette’s bathroom. At the end was a small elevation, and next to it a deep square depression, carved into marble. The hook-shaped Faucet in the middle was still running , and the square depression was nowhere near full. Still, it was enough to partially submerge Elphaba in the steaming, cloudy water. As soon as she touched it, the bath began to glow a soft blue. In the water laid Hyacinths and a multitude of crystals and minerals. The deep aroma of frankincense and lavender filled the room as the steam grew. Elphaba’s eyes fluttered, not quite unconscious, but slowly losing any grasp of what was happening, or what those around her were saying.
“What’s happening to her?” Fiyero asked, trying desperately to stop his body from shaking.
“We all have magical energy that is part of us, like a shadow of sorts. Like our physical body, it can be injured and depleted, and eventually our physical forms will reflect such things if pushed past one’s limits. The curse that held you was strong and took far too long to take apart. Each second it took for me to undue it, it was fighting her, draining her magic until her physical body began to feel the effects.”
“Curse?” Fiyero whispered, grabbing the charm he wore around his neck.
When he left the Emerald city all those months ago, Rain had warned his family that they had a run in with several nasty curses. She said it might have been sheer bad luck, or something more malicious, though she couldn’t know for certain. Fiyero was used to assassination attempts. By the time he was thirteen, he had survived seven that he knew of, though there were probably more his parents hid from him. Rain had given them protective charms; strong one’s made from seeing stone and dragon’s teeth. She was almost certain that would be enough, having seen the strength of the previous curses.
“Is she going to be okay?” Glinda asked, standing small in the doorway.
“I don’t know,” Margarette admitted. “Medicinal baths are the quickest way for magic absorption, as it can flow into every pore of the body. I’ve basically thrown every combination of healing flowers, minerals, and oils. She’s practically stewing in a healing spell for magical energy. Whether it will be enough, I cannot say. All we can do now is wait.”
And so, they waited. Waited until the tub filled before turning off the faucet. Then Margarette gave him a small cup and had him pour the milky water over her face. He watched the visible markings on her neck, flickering between their usual state and the glow they had when she used her magic. The headmistress left to call Rain, though there was little the Western witch could do.
--
It was hours later that the glow of her markings ceased. Margarette had Fiyero pull her out of the bath and into a bland, secondary bedroom she kept for guests. The walls and floor were grey marble, and the bed was a dull brown wood, with beige bedding. Then she threw him out of the room, as she changed examined the young witch, calling his presence “inappropriate.” When she finally opened the door, Fiyero and Glinda rushed inside desperate to know if Elphaba would be okay.
The saw her lying on the bed, having been changed into dry white pajamas. It was a relief to see the rise and fall of her chest, a clear sign that she was still physically alive.
“She needs rest,” Margarette said. “Days of it, likely, but she should survive this. Now the two of you should leave.”
“No,” Fiyero said. “She stayed with me till Rain was by my side. I intend to do the same.”
“Yeah,” Glinda said, though obviously confusifyed by the words. “And she’s, my roommate. It wouldn’t be right of me to leave her alone like this.”
Margarette took a deep breath, calming herself for what felt like the hundredth time that day. While she admired the loyalty of the students in front of her, she was in no mood to deal with it at the moment.
“I will be watching over her personally,” Margarette assured. “And I will let you come check on her whenever you wish, granted you do not have class at that time.”
Fiyero and Glinda both began talking over one another, making them completely illegible. In response, Margarette raised her hand then snapped it shut.
“silentium.”
Despite the continued talking, no sound left Fiyero or Glinda. Both of them stopped as they noticed what had occurred. Margarette swore she had never seen such anger in a student’s eyes before, and now it was in not two, but four eyes aimed directly at her.
“You’ll be able to speak again as soon as you return to your dorms,” she told them. “You may come back tomorrow; you have my word.”
Glinda let out a huff before turning around and walking out the apartment door. Margarette looked to Fiyero, expecting him to do the same. Instead, he made his way over to the chair on the other side of the bed. Even if he could not speak, he would not leave.
Margarette sighed, shaking her head. These next few days would be long indeed.