Robin was tall for a Munchkin–as tall as a human adolescent. He had black hair and striking blue eyes. Robin broke the hearts of most of the girls in town when he married, but those other girls were fools. He’d only ever had eyes for Cordelia Snow, the love of his youth.
They’d been married happily now for almost two years, and over the winter they’d been blessed with a baby girl. It broke Robin’s heart when he thought of her–the child he would never again cradle in his arms. He shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench. The lighted square on the floor moved another fraction of an inch.
Sheriff Rozzco had been using the cell as a corncrib and he wasn’t happy when the Mayor of Munchkinville ordered him to clean it out. Rozzco made his feelings perfectly evident when he arrived at Robin’s house the previous afternoon.
“Gonna spoil the whole crop,” Rozzco complained as he bound Robin’s hands behind his back with a pair of iron shackles. “Been drying all winter. Now tell me, how’m I gonna feed my animals when…”
“How can you do this?” Robin demanded. “They’re taking my little girl, giving her over to that witch. You’re the sheriff, how can you stand by and just let that happen?”
Cordelia stood in the doorway of their little house the whole time, weeping. She was a beautiful creature–porcelain skin and hair like creamed corn. Robin wasn’t exaggerating when he called her the loveliest woman in Munchkinland. Cordelia held a baby in her arms, wrapped in a blue blanket. Dot, the child, whimpered as her mother’s tears fell upon her face.
“You know why we have to do it,” Rozzco said. “Ain’t nothing personal. Your name was drawed in the lottery, that’s all. It could have been me or Nimmie Amee or anyone.” The sheriff gave the end of his curled mustache a twist. “Besides, you threatened to burn down Mayor Torin’s house.”
Sitting in his lonely cell, Robin couldn’t comprehend how his people could willingly surrender their children to the Wicked Witch of the East.
The tradition, it was said, began in the distant past, when the witch Orpah first enslaved the Munchkins. It was, in fact, the reason for the season. The covenant between the Munchkinlanders and the Wicked Witch of the East guaranteed that every year on the first day of Spring, each Munchkin settlement would deliver to Orpah a girl-child under the age of two. It had been going on as long as anyone could remember, and none that had been given over to the witch had ever been seen again. Each winter, the names of all the new parents in Munchkinland were written on scraps of paper and placed in a hat. Whoever’s name was drawn was forced to give up their child for the good of the country. Before he was a father, Robin found the practice revolting. Now, when he thought of little Dot and her dark curls, the idea made him absolutely murderous.
“I won’t let this happen,” Robin whispered. Across the cell, a rat squeaked at him furiously and then scurried through a tiny crack in the wall.
Before long, the sun blazed directly overhead. There was a commotion outside. Not wanting to watch but unable to help himself, Robin rushed to the cell’s single window and pressed his face to the bars. His heart breaking, his vision blurred by tears, he watched the horror unfold. He could not look away.
The witch came from the east, traveling along the Yellow Brick Road in a palanquin carried by four hulking giants. The brutes moved with surprising grace considering their size. Their arms bulged with muscles as big around as Mayor Torin’s ample belly, and the shortest of the giants stood as tall as five Munchkins standing on one another’s shoulders. Their eyes were close set. Their foreheads formed into sharp brow ridges that made them appear both perpetually angry and perpetually stupid. They never spoke, but sounded out with an occasional throaty grunt. If the sounds meant anything, no one could say, but they seemed to comprehend when a frigid voice issued a command from inside the palanquin.
“Halt. Set me down.”
The giants complied, easing the litter to the bricks with amazing gentility. A door opened in the palanquin a moment later, and a pair of legs arrayed in red and white striped hose appeared. At the bottom of her shapely calves, the witch’s feet were shod with silver slippers. These were said to possess great magical power, and so long as she wore these shoes, the chances of overthrowing the Wicked Witch of the East were non-existent.
She stood before them as a being of seemingly limitless power. The Munchkins, trembling with terror, fell down upon their faces and worshipped her as a god.
Orpah was beautiful for a witch. For any woman for that matter. Her hair was bright red, and her skin as pale as the sands of the Deadly Desert that surrounded the Land of Oz.
No Munchkinlander knew the history of Orpah, and they rarely saw her except when she appeared to claim her annual sacrifice. But they feared her. Occasionally, a brave soul would defy the witch, and their death would be swift. The head of the last such agitator was still rotting upon a spike near the town’s western gate.
“Another year has passed,” said the witch. Her voice sent chills down the spines of everyone present. “Will you Munchkins fulfill your bargain, or shall I turn your entire people into jitterbugs?”
“We will honour our agreement,” came a familiar voice from deep within the throng. The crowd parted, and Mayor Torin stepped forward. He was a fat little man dressed in a suit of fine blue velvet. He motioned to Sheriff Rozzco, who led Cordelia and Dot through the crowd. When they reached the witch, Cordelia looked up through watery eyes at the woman who would take her child away.
“Please,” Cordelia said. “Please don’t take my little girl.”
Orpah’s nostrils flared. Her green eyes, dyed in the finest spa in the Emerald City, narrowed.
“Silence your pleading,” she hissed, “it annoys me.”
Cordelia dropped to her knees. “I’ll do anything, mistress. Please, don’t take my…”
The witch bent down and grabbed hold of the child. Dot wailed in protest as Orpah wrenched her away from her mother. Cordelia lunged at the witch in a sudden fit of madness, but before she could land a blow, one of the giants grabbed her by the arm and lifted her high in the air.
“Kill her,” ordered the witch.
The giant reared back, and then hurled Cordelia as hard as he could to the ground. Her skull shattered as it smashed against the Yellow Brick Road. Blood poured from the open wound, staining the bricks.
Not far away, a wretched wail ripped across the village. It was Robin Plumly, watching in horror as his wife died in the street. The people of Munchkinville watched silently, too terrified to even utter a sound.
“Let us be gone,” said Orpah. She stepped casually over Cordelia’s body, and then slipped back into her palanquin with Dot tucked under her arms. The baby’s pitiful cries echoed back to the village as the giants carried them out of sight.
The next day Robin heard keys jangling in the cell door. A moment later, the door swung open and blinding light poured in. The light stung his eyes. Robin had cried all night, until his heart pounded and the tears simply wouldn’t come anymore. He slept on the hard floor, and remained there long past the breakfast hour. He simply didn’t care what happened next.
“Robin,” said an unexpected voice. “I hate to see you like this.”
The prisoner had been expecting Rozzco, and indeed the sheriff was standing right there in the doorway. But beside him, as round as a balloon, stood Mayor Torin.
Robin pushed up off the floor and rose quickly to his feet. His clenched his fists. He narrowed his eyes. He grated his teeth.
“What do you want?”
Torin smiled nervously.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about your wife and…”
Robin took a menacing step toward the Mayor, and was quickly intercepted by Rozzco.
“You don’t wanna do that,” said the sheriff. He placed a steadying hand on each of Robin’s shoulders. Robin didn’t resist, but his hate-filled eyes never waivered from the Mayor.
“You’re a coward,” said Robin. “Both of you. You’ve allowed that
witch to terrorize our people for years.”
“What would you have me do?” The Mayor’s voice throbbed with sudden anger. “How could our people hope to fight those giants of hers? And what about her magic? She could kill us all with a word.”
“Better to die than to live like this,” Robin said.
The Mayor shook his head in frustration. How many times had they had this exact conversation? Ten? Twenty?
“There’s nothing I can do,” Torin said at last.
“Why are you here?” Robin demanded. He stepped back, and Rozzco relaxed his guard.
“I’ve decided to drop all charges against you,” Torin explained. “You’re free to go.”
“Why would you do this?” Robin knew very well that the punishment for threatening a government official was exile from Munchkinville.
“Because you’ve been punished enough already,” said the Mayor. “Please, I want you to know how sorry…”
Robin darted across the room, and before Rozzco could intervene, he punched Mayor Torin in the nose. The fat little man staggered back a few steps and slid down the wall. He sat upon the wooden floor, blinking his eyes furiously as he tried to regain his senses.
Rozzco rushed toward Robin, but stopped when the prisoner assumed a fighting stance. In truth, there was very little need of a sheriff in Munchkinville. The people were reasonably well behaved, and other than the times when the Wicked Witch of the East came to town, this was one of the easiest jobs in the country. Unaccustomed to violence, Rozzco covered his head with his hands and scurried toward the back of the room like a rat.
Robin knelt beside the stunned Mayor.
“I don’t want your apology,” he whispered. “I want my daughter back. And I want you to know that I’m going to get her, and if it costs the life of every soul in the Land of Oz then so be it.”
Robin stood, and without looking back stepped outside the jail. A few minutes later he was standing over the body of his beloved wife. No one bothered to bury Cordelia. They didn’t even cover her with a shroud. Crows had come in the night and eaten her eyes. She stared at him with two empty red holes in her face. A line of blood was dried upon her lips.
“How could you let this happen?” she seemed to be saying.
“I’m sorry.” Robin collapsed beside her broken form. “I promise to avenge your death,” he cried. “And I will hold our daughter again.” He wept uncontrollably.
Robin Plumly stood once his sorrow abated. He lifted Cordelia’s body in his arms, took a final look around at the village that had been home his entire life, and then started west along the Yellow Brick Road.
Robin buried Cordelia near a small cottage that stood vacant beside the Yellow Brick Road. The place was overgrown with trees, and many Munchkinlanders claimed it was haunted. A statue of a tin man stood not far from the house, his hands clenching an axe and his body corroded with rust. When Robin was a lad, he remembered his friends daring him to touch that hideous statue. He’d come within five paces of the thing, but his courage failed and he made a hasty retreat.
Drawing near the tin man now, Robin heard what sounded like a deep groan. He peered at the statue, considering the implications, and then shook his head. Black trees whispered all around them.
“My mind is playing tricks on me,” Robin said.
Cordelia lay in an open grave at his feet. Using a shovel he’d retrieved from the cottage, Robin piled dirt over the woman he loved. He worked furiously, never stopping until Cordelia was cold underground. His heart pounding, Robin fell to his knees.
“It’s time for me to go,” he said once he’d caught his breath. He placed a wild rose he’d found growing nearby upon the grave. “Farewell my love.”
Before long Robin was marching along the Yellow Brick Road again, toward the only person in all the Land of Oz who could help him rescue his daughter.
Under any other circumstances, the Emerald City would have awed Robin Plumly with its sheer size and beauty. The city was gigantic by Munchkin standards, and every stone glowed a beautiful green. A high wall surrounded the city beyond which Robin could make out the emerald tower where the Wizard of Oz held court.
Robin slowed as he approached the city’s gate. A crooked man in black robes stood beside the door. A long, white wizard’s beard poured from the mouth of the cloak. He leaned heavily on a wooden cart, and though the man’s face was cast in shadow, Robin had the distinct feeling that this stranger was a dangerous man. They passed each other on the road a dozen paces from the city gate. Robin kept his eyes averted, not wanting to become distracted from his task.
“I’d turn back if I were you,” the crooked man hissed.
Robin paused in spite of himself. “Excuse me?”
“Do you seek counsel with the Wizard of Oz?” The kept speaking before Robin could even answer. “He won’t see you, I can promise you that.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s a humbug. A liar. Nothing but an illusionist.” The crooked man spoke the last word with utter contempt.
“What do you mean?” Robin demanded. His every hope rested on the Wizard’s magic. The Munchkin took a step nearer the crooked man.
“The Wizard of Oz rarely sees anyone,” he explained, “but he knew me as a powerful wizard, so he was willing to meet with me.”
“So?”
“So… he appeared as a giant, floating head. That’s the oldest trick in the book. My dog could do that trick. And while he was ranting and raving, begging me to slay the Wicked Witches, I realized that he had less magic than an ordinary laying hen.”
“The Wizard…” Robin shook his head. “No, that can’t be.”
“It is, lad.” The Crooked Wizard gestured over his shoulder toward the city. “If you’re looking for a wizard, don’t bother going to the Emerald City.”
Without another word he began walking once more, headed in the direction from which Robin had come.
The Munchkin took several steps toward the city, and as he drew near he noticed that the Emerald City wasn’t made of emeralds at all. It shone brilliantly from a distance, but up close, he could clearly see that the walls were only cinder blocks painted with green sparkle paint.
“It can’t be,” Robin said aloud. He reached toward the button that would summon the Guardian of the Gate, but hesitated. What if the Crooked Wizard was right? Dot was running out of time, and Robin might waste days inside the Emerald City.
“Wait!” Robin shouted. He turned around and ran back the way he had come. The Crooked Wizard was a hundred yards away now, moving along at a surprising pace, with his beard waving from side to side. He paused at the sound of Robin’s call and began to fiddle with a long pipe that he produced from a pocket of his robes.
“Can you help me, sir?” Robin said as he drew near the wizard.
“That depends,” said the Crooked Wizard, his back still turned to Robin. A puff of smoke drifted over shoulder. “What sort of help do you require?”
Robin took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. This man was Dot’s only hope, and if he refused to help, he had no one else to turn to.
“My daughter has been taken hostage by the Wicked Witch of the East,” Robin explained. “The witch murdered my wife.”
He felt the tears burning in his eyes, but he refused to give in to weakness. He didn’t have time for weakness. He should have taken Cordelia and Dot and fled Munchkin country as soon as their name was drawn out of the hat. Instead he turned to diplomacy. He tried to argue that his people should rise up against their oppressor, but the Munchkins refused. They were all cowards, and Robin considered himself the worst of the lot.
“That is most unfortunate,” said the Crooked Wizard.
“Why does she do it?” Robin demanded. “Every year she comes to Munchkinland and steals one female child from each village.”
The Crooked Wizard nodded. “It is an ancient spell,” he explained. “She uses the life force of the children to keep her young and beautiful. Hav
e you seen Orpah? She is beautiful, is she not?”
“In a way,” Robin admitted. In truth, the Wicked Witch of the East was quite beautiful, but hers was a haunting, vacant beauty. Not like his Cordelia, whose smile could light up a room. When he thought of Orpah, Robin’s blood burned. She was a sensual, gothic creature, the kind of woman Robin’s mother had warned him about.
“Orpah is the oldest of all the witches in Oz,” the Crooked Wizard said. “They’re all sisters, did you know that? Glinda, who rules the Quadling Country of the south, Denslow, who is called the Wicked Witch of the West, Locasta, the Good Witch of the North, Mombi, who has no country, and Orpah, the Wicked Witch of the East.”
“Five sisters,” Robin said.
“Five sisters,” said the Crooked Wizard, “and every one of them is a bitch. I used to have a thing with Orpah once upon a time, but she left me for another man. When we broke up, her sisters cursed me. Well, Denslow and Mombi did anyway, but the others didn’t do anything to stop it. They made me the broken old man you see before you.”
“I’m sorry…” Robin began, but the wizard cut him off again.
“Keep your words, they mean nothing to me. You want me to help you get your daughter back?” The Crooked Wizard took a shaky step toward Robin.
“Yes.”
“It’ll cost you. Are you willing to pay?”
“I don’t have much gold,” Robin said. “But I’ll give you everything…”
“I don’t want your money.” A cruel smile formed inside the Crooked Wizards hood. “But there is something else.”
“I’ll pay anything,” Robin said.
The Crooked Wizard removed his pipe and blew a smoke ring into the air. It drifted lazily back toward the Emerald City, finally catching on the point of the wizard’s tower and dissipating.
“When the witches left me, they stole my heart. I’m not talking figuratively either. The Crooked Wizard pulled open his robes, revealing the pale skin of his chest. There was a purple scar over his left breast. They cut it right out, used it in one of Mombi’s nasty spells. I haven’t felt anything since that day. If you ever want to see your daughter again, laddie, then the price you must pay is your heart.”
Shadows of the Emerald City Page 9
