“I know that!” Melindra snarled.
“How much time do we have?” Glamora asked, her face suffused with concern.
Gert shook her head. “Not much, I don’t think. But Nox is right—she’s in no shape to be questioned. Her thoughts are a jumble. I can barely make anything out. We won’t get anything useful out of her until she’s healed.” Melindra was already walking past her.
“Lanadel, why don’t you come with me and help get her in the water.” Lanadel heard the emotion thick in her voice, but Melindra didn’t break her stride or look back.
“Go,” Mombi said. “Quickly. Bring Annabel back as soon as you can.” The old witch jabbed a finger into Lanadel’s chest. “And don’t let her die!”
Lanadel raced after Melindra and found her as she was entering the cavern with the healing pool. Without hesitating, Melindra stepped into the water with the injured girl in her arms, sinking to her chest and letting the girl’s body float in the warm, clear spring. Cradling Annabel in her left arm, she gently pushed the girl underwater with her right.
“Can it—can she—” Lanadel didn’t even know what to ask. Annabel was hurt so badly it was hard to believe that even the pool could heal her.
Melindra held her underwater with both hands and closed her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “Now would be a good time to pray, though.”
The seconds passed so slowly they felt like minutes and still Annabel didn’t move. Her blood bloomed upward like droplets of ink spreading in a glass of water. If the water didn’t heal her, would it drown her? Melindra’s face was set in grim concentration and Lanadel was too frightened to ask.
And then, just when Lanadel was certain Annabel was dead, she began to thrash furiously underwater. Melindra pulled her back to the surface. Annabel coughed and hacked, spitting water. As soon as her mouth was clear, she let out a scream so bloodcurdling that even Melindra flinched. Melindra grabbed her tightly, pulling Annabel in to her chest. “You’re okay,” she said into the girl’s ear over and over again. “You’re okay. You’re in the caverns. You’re safe.” At last the girl’s horrible screams subsided and she leaned into Melindra’s chest, sobbing.
“Help me get her out of the water,” Melindra ordered Lanadel. Between the two of them, they gently lifted Annabel out of the pool. She curled up on the rocky floor of the cavern, still crying, and covered her eyes with her hands. Melindra squatted next to her, stroking Annabel’s back with one hand, until finally her crying slowed and she pushed herself up into a seated position. Melindra snapped her fingers, and a soft white robe materialized next to her. She gently wrapped Annabel up and offered her a handkerchief she plucked out of thin air.
Annabel blew her nose and nodded thankfully to Melindra. Her face was pale and drawn, but the pool had healed her injuries—except for a huge, round scar in the middle of her forehead that looked almost like bone. Melindra touched it hesitantly, and Annabel flinched. “Can you walk?” Melindra asked gently.
Annabel nodded. Melindra shot a look at Lanadel and she hurried forward to offer the girl her arm. By slinging her arms around both their shoulders, she was able to limp her way back to the dining hall, where Mombi, Gert, Glamora, and Nox were waiting anxiously. Holly and Larkin had vanished.
They helped Annabel sit down at the table, and Gert pulled a steaming bowl of broth out of the air and set it in front of her.
“Tell us everything,” Mombi said.
“Mombi!” Glamora chastised. “She’s exhausted. Let the poor girl rest first.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Mombi retorted. Glamora opened her mouth to protest again, but Annabel interrupted her.
“She’s right,” Annabel said weakly. “There’s not much time. I have to tell you what I’ve seen. It can’t wait until I . . .” Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears, and she brought her hand to the scar on her forehead. Glamora and Melindra both flinched visibly.
“Take your time, dearie,” Gert urged, taking one of Annabel’s hands and squeezing it gently. Hypocrite, Lanadel thought, and Gert looked up sharply. Almost as if she could read Lanadel’s mind.
Annabel nodded and took a deep breath. “It was just a regular recon mission,” she began. “I mean, you know that—you sent me to look into the rumors that Dorothy is somehow stripping magic out of Oz.” She touched her forehead again and another tear ran down her cheek. “I didn’t think you could be right,” she said dully. “Pulling magic out of Oz? Just the idea is totally insane.”
“It is insane,” Nox said grimly. “But unfortunately that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“Yeah, well, it is,” Annabel said. “I traveled through Gillikin Country and Quadling Country before I headed to the Emerald City, and Dorothy’s troops are everywhere. They’re raiding villages, burning homes, taking prisoners—they don’t often leave survivors, but everyone I found was completely terrified, and they told me anyone Dorothy’s soldiers had taken was never seen again.” Annabel shuddered. “The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman are experimenting on people. Making these awful half-tin soldiers that are basically slaves with no will of their own.”
“They’re making soldiers?” Mombi broke in.
Annabel nodded. “I heard rumors in some of the outlying villages. Creatures that were part flesh, part steel. That seemed to be controlled by some kind of outside force.”
“That’s crazy,” Nox said. “That’s never—no one in Oz would do that. Not even Dorothy.”
“It’s not crazy,” Lanadel said, surprising even herself with her outburst. “I saw them.”
They all looked at her, startled, as if they’d forgotten she was there. “The people—the things that came to my village, that”—her voice wavered but she pressed on—“killed my family, they looked like that. They had yellow fur, like the Winkies. But their hands—where their hands should have been—they had knives. And these horrible wheels at the ends of their legs. They were ruthless. When people begged for—when people begged them for mercy, it was like they couldn’t even hear.” Next to her, Melindra grabbed her hand and squeezed. Nox inhaled sharply.
Annabel nodded sympathetically. “I heard stories like that everywhere I went. Creatures that were part Winkie, part metal. I didn’t believe it was true. How would something like that even live? Like you said, Nox, it was too crazy to be real.” She shook her head. “And then . . .” She bit down on the words. As if what she had to say next was too painful even to speak about. “And then I saw for myself. A whole troop of them. I was lucky they didn’t see me—I’d stopped to rest outside of a village, and it was only luck that I arrived after Dorothy’s troops had already started killing people and burning houses to the ground. I saw them. Her soldiers.” She shuddered again. “It was—horrible. They looked like creatures we know. But they’d been twisted into something—something awful. Part machine. Knives where their hands should be. Just like you said,” and she nodded at Lanadel. “It’s worse than we ever imagined, what Dorothy’s doing. I couldn’t face them, so I—I ran.” She buried her head in her hands.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Nox said. “None of us could have confronted a whole army alone. You did the right thing, Annabel.”
“I left those people to die,” Annabel whispered. “I just kept going. I wanted to come back here right away but I needed more proof. Something to show for my mission.” She straightened, almost proudly. “So I kept going. I scouted more villages. I didn’t see any more of Dorothy’s soldiers. But I—” She stopped talking, as if whatever came next was too hard to say. Harder even than talking about walking away from a burning village while Dorothy’s soldiers murdered its citizens.
“Annabel, what happened? What happened to your horn?” Melindra prompted. “Tell us.”
Her horn? And then Lanadel realized—Annabel was a Horner. Had been a Horner, anyway—one of the rare, magical horned people from Quadling Country. But who would cut off her horn? It was like chopping off someone’s arm or leg for no reason.
“Dorothy’s trying to figure out a way to get all the magic of Oz for herself,” Annabel said. “The rumors are true. But it’s not that easy. You can’t just snap your fingers and take it. So she’s offering a reward for magical objects, for starters. Big rewards.” Annabel touched her forehead. “People are desperate in some places. Dorothy’s raids have left them starving. They have nothing.”
“Wait—Dorothy’s soldiers didn’t do this?” Melindra gasped.
Annabel shook her head. “A bunch of farmers,” she said, laughing bitterly. “So much for my training. They didn’t have real weapons, but they still managed to beat me half to death before they got my horn. I was just barely able to teleport back here before I bled out all over their field.”
Lanadel stared at the girl, still wrapped tightly in Melindra’s white robe. It was unthinkable. The people of Oz didn’t do things like that to each other. They didn’t murder each other over some stupid reward. They didn’t betray each other. It was bad enough that Dorothy had some kind of army of monsters attacking her own citizens, but she was from the Other Place. Maybe they were just like that there: bloodthirsty monsters who fought wars for no reason and killed innocent people for the fun of it. But this was Oz. Things like this didn’t happen in Oz. People didn’t hurt each other. Oz was peaceful.
“No,” Lanadel said in a low voice, only realizing she’d spoken aloud when the others turned to look at her. “It’s Dorothy. It has to be Dorothy’s fault. We’re not like that.”
“Believe me,” Annabel said. “I wish you were right.” She coughed weakly. “Ozians turning on each other—it’s like something out of a nightmare.”
“You’re wrong!” Lanadel cried, tears springing to her eyes. “You must have been confused. It was Dorothy’s soldiers. It had to be.”
Annabel closed her eyes. “It was a bunch of farmers,” she said. “They could have been my old neighbors in Quadling Country. They could have been my friends. Dorothy’s soldiers were nowhere to be seen. But they’re on the move—that’s why we don’t have time. Word of the Order is spreading. If Dorothy’s troops find this place, we’re done. We have to go out and fight.”
“I’m not fighting with liars!” Lanadel yelled. “It was Dorothy! It had to be!”
Melindra and Nox’s jaws dropped in astonishment. And she turned her back on them and ran from the dining hall.
NINE
It was Nox who found her, of course. It didn’t take him long. She wondered sometimes if he had some extra, sixth sense that told him everything she was going to do before she did it. That would explain why he’d known it was her on top of Mount Gillikin. Why she could never beat him in a fight. Well, and the fact that she’d just learned how to fight a couple of months ago.
She’d stopped crying long before she heard his footfalls on the rock behind her. Without realizing it, she’d run all the way to the place she’d overheard his fight with Melindra. Only now, it was daylight, just as it had been when Mombi had showed her the mountaintop for the first time. From here, she could see all the way down into the valley, and the dim purple mountains against the horizon as far as she could see, jagged as a torn piece of paper against the blue sky.
Nox sank down on his haunches next to her, and after a minute, when it was obvious she wasn’t going to move, he stretched out his legs and sat down on the rough stone. She had to fight the impulse to move away from him. He could pretend to be her friend now. But after last night, she knew different. She knew his concern was nothing more than a face he put on when it suited him.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said finally, after a long, painful silence.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said sharply. “You never asked, because you don’t care. You don’t even know where I’m from, or what happened to my family, or—”
“Two brothers,” Nox said, not looking at her. “Both older. Good with the harvest. Your parents had high hopes for them. They doted on you—took you with them everywhere, but teased you constantly. Your parents were older and didn’t think they could have any more children when your mother got pregnant with you. Until Dorothy’s troops found your village, they were ordinary farmers. Poor, but happy. Her forces tried to take as many of the strong young workers as they could, but your brothers fought harder than most. It was someone in your own village who betrayed them. The head councilman. He cried for help and when your brothers ran to his aid he locked them inside his house and called to Dorothy’s troops. He promised them your brothers in exchange for sparing the village. But they killed him anyway. Dorothy’s soldiers beheaded both of your brothers in front of your parents, and then killed your parents, too. You saw the whole thing—you were hiding under your parents’ bed in your family’s one-room cottage. By the time you came out, everyone in your village was dead or abducted and your village was burning. You walked all the way here. By the time you found the Order, you were nearly dead. But you didn’t care. Avenge your family or die with them: those were the only options.”
Lanadel stared at him. “How did you know all that?” she finally asked. “Is nothing safe from you people? My whole history? Annabel’s life? None of it matters when it comes to the cause?”
“Gert can read minds,” Nox said calmly. “She thinks it’s best if I know what I’m getting into when I train someone. And it comes in handy to ensure there are no traitors in our midst. It’s nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal?” Lanadel spat. “Just my entire life? A story I never told you myself?”
“Knowing other people’s secrets doesn’t seem to bother you,” Nox snapped. “Toughen up, Lanadel. These are times that none of us ever imagined we’d see. Dorothy is bad enough, but the idea that our own people would turn on each other—”
“Dorothy made him!” Lanadel shrieked. “He was a good man, Head Councilman Alder! He was fair and just and—and—”
“He was trying to save his own skin,” Nox said. “That’s the worst part, isn’t it? He didn’t care about the village. Half the people in your village were already dead. He only cared about himself and he was willing to sacrifice your brothers for his own safety. Not that it worked.” Nox snorted. “Say what you like about Dorothy’s army, but apparently they don’t take bribes.”
Lanadel looked at him in horror.
“Hard to hear, Lanadel? That’s nothing, believe me. You have to be able to face the truth if you’re going to fight with us. You have to accept that this is a war that affects all of us. That anyone can turn on us. The Tin Woodman, the Lion, the Scarecrow—you think they’re from the Other Place? You know they’re Ozians, same as the rest of us. The Scarecrow used to be king. Sure, he wasn’t great at the job, but he wasn’t turning Winkies into killing machines either. Dorothy’s not a savior anymore. She’s a monster. Any one of us can be corrupted. Any one of us can be a traitor. You can’t trust anyone.”
“Turning Winkies into killing machines?” Lanadel asked dully.
“That’s what we sent Annabel to find out. That’s who’s responsible for what happened in your village. We’d heard rumors—that the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman were working together to create an army for Dorothy somehow. We needed to know the truth.” He sighed. “Turns out the truth is even more horrible than the stories. And that’s why we have to move now. That’s what I came up here to tell you. The healing pool helped, but Annabel’s still traumatized from what she went through out there. I don’t want to send her out again until I’m certain she’s recovered.” His face was blank. “But it’s time. Time for Melindra to go to the Emerald Palace—and time for you to go to Ev.”
Lanadel stared at him, her mind reeling. That was what he’d been talking about with Gert? Ev, the fabled country across the Deadly Desert, supposedly a twisted mirror image of Oz? Ruled by a crazy, centuries-old king? The Nome King must have been the he they’d meant. She was supposed to be a spy in his ancient, corrupt court.
Except that Ev didn’t exist. It was a story parents sca
red their kids with when they were misbehaving, not a real place. “Ev is just a myth,” she said. “And even Melindra can’t—I know what those creatures can do. You send Melindra out there, she’ll die.” She remembered what she’d overheard on the mountaintop. Even Melindra, with all her confidence and her strength, knew that a trip to the Emerald City was almost certain to be a one-way ticket.
“I’m not sending her to fight,” he said. “I’m sending her to spy. Just like I’m sending you. Ev is real, Lanadel—as real as Oz.” She shook her head in disbelief, but he was serious. “And whatever is giving Dorothy her power just might come from there. Mombi and Gert have suspected for a long time that there’s some force in Ev that is partly responsible for bringing Dorothy back. You’re the one who’s going to find out.”
“Has anyone from Oz ever even been to Ev?”
“Lurline,” Nox said. “Maybe.”
“I don’t have experience. I can barely use magic. Shouldn’t you send Holly? Or Larkin?”
“Holly and Larkin are good fighters, but they’re not . . . subtle. Neither is Melindra.” His voice was so flat it sounded refrigerated. “I need someone who can play the innocent. Someone who is still innocent. Someone like you. We don’t know what you’ll find out there.”
“So you’re sending me into a total unknown and you’re sending Melindra to her death,” Lanadel said, her voice hot with fury. If she’d been angry at Nox last night, that was nothing compared to what she felt now. Nox had been trying to protect Melindra when he’d argued with Gert. He’d wanted to keep her out of unnecessary danger. But now he wasn’t thinking twice about sending her into the Emerald City. He wanted Melindra as far away from him as possible. And she knew exactly why.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with skill, does it? You don’t want either of us around. You don’t want anyone to distract you from your precious Order.” She knew what he’d told Melindra that night. That he hated watching his trainees die. But it was as if that Nox had been a different person. And the Nox in front of her now was all walls. There was no chance of getting through to the person who’d told Melindra how much he wanted to protect her.
Dorothy Must Die Novella #7 Page 7
