I continue to fight these gnarling monsters who keep healing in gushing displays of revolting vile, and I know beheading is the only way I’ll get enough time to elude them and catch up to the rest of my little crew. Escape is my only hope to make it out of this cursed realm.
One raises its clawed paw and strikes me so hard I fly into another who bats me with its snout to the next who does the same. They smack me around as a group with their snouts and giant paws, battering me between them like this is some sick game of kick the can. I don’t know if it’s me or the boots but indignant rage clamors through me and an invisible force bursts forth, knocking them all on their scaly butts.
“Do I look like a toy to you maggots?” I seethe, speaking without knowing what I’m saying. I’ve never been one to speak before I think, making me almost certain my boots are doing the talking as I continue. “Bow to your master, you despicable beasts. I own you,” I growl as they scramble to their feet. “You are specks on my boots, and I will annihilate every one of you pathetic animals.”
My suit goes into action, and not only am I slicing them up, but I’m kicking and punching them with bone crushing blows and blasts of what I’m sure is magic. Their faces cave in at contact, and their bones break and crumble. Fury and indignation take me over, ruling my emotions, my movements, propelling me forward, growing with each strike. Every time they dare rise, I grow angrier and beat them even harder until they cower and stay down. One after the other, I behead them at lightning speed.
“Dorothy!” I hear when I’m halfway through the beheadings, and I think it’s Nick.
“What?” I call out as I behead another. Five more to go.
“Run!” he shouts.
When I turn my head, I see he’s returning with the flamethrower, aiming it right at us as he charges forward. I leap over the twitching bodies of the kalidahs I already beheaded and hurry toward him. The five remaining kalidahs rise from their cowering positions and give chase. Nick releases the flame thrower onto the kalidahs and the undead forest around us.
Once there is a solid wall of flame between us and them, we take off running back toward our makeshift bridge. Screeching wails ring out, echoing through the forest and the canyon below, the unnerving shrieks resounding for what I’m sure is miles.
Just as it did before, the fire spreads fast in every direction, and when I look back over my shoulder, I see the five kalidahs I didn’t kill burst through the wall of flames that speed toward us. Three of them fall, engulfed by the flames. Two of them make it through though, their undead skin bubbling and blistered by the fire, but they are not aflame like the others and they dash toward us.
“Hurry,” I say to Nick who runs hard, the flamethrower in one of his hands that pumps with force as we run our butts off. We make it to the undead tree and I hoist him up then get on behind him.
“Go before me,” he says, surprised I tossed him up there the way I did.
“Now you want to be chivalrous? Just go,” I command, and he steps forward.
When we start across this makeshift bridge, my boots grip the curved, uneven surface, allowing me to move with confidence.
Once we get about halfway across, the two Kalidahs make it to the trunk and rush forward. Nick hurries across the jagged surface and trips, falling over the edge. He slides off the side but catches an offshoot and hangs from it. I hurry forward and kneel, grabbing his arm and thanks to the strength my armor gives me, I pull him up. He grips the trunk tight before he stands and moves forward with more caution than before. This time, I follow closer and soon we make it to the other side. Nick jumps down and I do the same.
“Run,” Nick says.
Werelion starts off toward the road but Ardie calls out.
“Wait! Nick, chop away the end of the tree on our side of the ditch or we’ll be running all the way to the Emerald City.”
Nick wastes no time and chops at the trunk with his sharpest, largest axe. Just as the two Kalidahs are almost across, the tree falls with a crash into the gulf, carrying the ugly, snarling brutes with it. We watch them fall and both splat, dashed to blackened bloody pieces on the sharp rocks at the bottom.
“Well,” says Werelion, drawing a long breath of relief, “We will live a little while longer, and I am glad, for it must be a very uncomfortable thing not to be alive.”
“I assure you, it is uncomfortable indeed,” Ardie agrees. He would know.
The forest at the other side of the canyon is now ablaze, and we stand a moment, watching the fire grow, engulfing the forest of both living and undead trees that line the canyon in both directions.
“Dorothy, are you all right?” Ardie asks me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I sigh.
“I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. They had made it across by the time I got back to the tree. I had to cross to get the flamethrower,” Nick explains.
“It’s fine,” I say and shake it off.
It surprised me he just took off like that, but it wouldn’t have done any good if he’d stayed.
“No, it’s not. I saw you almost get swallowed by one. I should have stayed and fought.”
“No, Nick. If you had, you’d be dead, or undead. It’s fine.”
“It’s not. I’m sorry.”
“The flames were the only thing that could have stopped them,” Ardie says. “You made the right choice.”
“Thank you, for saving my life,” Nick says, and I smile at him, my armor folding back into my boots.
“Thank the boots. They were the only reason I was strong enough to pull you up. Come on, let’s move,” I say, and we walk toward the cracked yellow-brick road.
“It is probable that the land cracked to keep the kalidahs in their place,” Ardie says. “I wonder how long that canyon has been there.”
“Sorry, can you repeat that?” I must have misunderstood him.
“It is probable the land cracked to keep the kalidahs in their place, perhaps even to keep the zombiism from spreading.”
“The land made that choice?” I smirk.
“Yes, I would assume it.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Why would you think that was crazy?” Ardie asks, bewildered by my incredulity.
“It would not be the same in the civilized realm,” Nick says. “The land here is magical,” he explains. “It’s where a witch siphons their magic from, and I assume a wizard does as well.”
“Huh,” I say, thinking his statement over. “If that’s true, why doesn’t everyone have the power of a witch or a wizard in this place?”
“Witches live long lives and have the ability to siphon the magic. Few people have that gift,” Nick explains.
“They say witches are from another realm altogether,” Werelion says as though it scares him. “That they came here on another kind of magic and found they could steal the magic from the land, so they stayed to rule over us all.”
“That isn’t true. There is no proof to that legend,” Ardie says.
“If it is true, it would have happened centuries ago,” Nick says. “None of us could know such a thing. The witches who are here now were born here. They say their mothers were too, who were all witches themselves.”
“How many witches are here? Are there a lot?”
“The one you killed—the Vampire Witch of the East. Then there is her sister—the Vampire Witch of the West; in Gillikin there is the Zombie Witch Mombi; in Munchkin there is Gayelette, Slayer Witch of the North; in Quadling there is Glinda, the Red Witch of the South. If there are others, we do not know of them for they live in the countries outside of the uncrossable deserts that surround Oz,” Nick explains.
“Other countries?”
“Yes,” Ardie says with an amused smile. “We are in Oz now, but the country we are in is called Emerald. In Oz, there is Emerald Country, Gillikin Country, Munchkin Country, Winkie Land, and Quadling Country. A witch or wizard rules each country—Gaylette rules Munchkin Country, Glinda rules Quadling Country, Mombi rule
s Gillikin Country, the Vampire Witch of the West rules Winkie Land, and the Wizard rules Emerald and all the lands of Oz. The Land of Oz contains all the aforementioned countries, but that is only because when the Wizard came it was clear he was the most powerful of them all, so he rules all the witches and their lands. They answer to him.
“Gayelette and the Witch of the East battled for control of Munchkin Country for years. The Sister Witches ruled nothing once, but when they became vampires that changed. The Vampire Witch of the East pushed Gayelette back, and the Wizard brokered a treaty so that Gayelette ruled North Munchkin, where her castle was, and he gave East Munchkin to the sister witch and renamed her the Vampire Witch of the East.
“Then the other Sister Witch proclaimed herself ruler of Winkie Land in the west once she killed the royal family and took over the palace. That is when she took the name ‘Vampire Witch of the West’. This happened about ten years ago, but the vampirism didn’t become a plague until around four years ago. Outside of Oz there are other countries, although I have never been to them for you must pass the deserts to get to them and unless you have magic, you cannot survive the journey.”
“Like what other countries?” I ask, wondering if any of them are safe and monster-free in case I never get out of here. Oz is a place I do not want to reside.
“There is Ev,” Nick says. “Where the Nome King lives. He’s supposed to be a terrible dictator who uses dark magic to maintain his rule. Then there are many others.”
“Sing her the song, Nick,” Ardie says with amusement in his eyes. “I am sure you have a lovely voice.”
“Song?”
“There is a children’s rhyme to remember all the countries. We all learn it,” Werelion says.
“I want to hear it.”
Werelion begins and both Nick and Ardie join in straightaway singing a little ditty. As I listen, a smile plays on my lips. They aren’t so bad, throwing in some harmonies and everything.
“The lands of Oz are five in all—
In Winkie Land the men are tall,
In Munchkin Country things are small,
Both lands grow wicked when night falls,
There’s Quadling rich with rubies red.
Their armies will prevent bloodshed.
In Gillikin they’re all undead
With just one bite the bane will spread
Then at the center, set right between
There’s Emerald of vivid green.
In the Lands of Oz you might be safe.
But outside Oz there’s no escape
For beyond the desert deadly and vile,
The impassable undead’s exile
The Great Sandy Waste
The Shifting Sands
Lie far more terrifying lands.
The Kingdom of Ix
The Land of Ev
With evil kings and nomes and dread.
In Noland, Hiland, and Loland live few
In Vegetable Kingdom they eat people stew
From Misery Valley to Goryland,
You will find the fanged and damned,
Mifkets, Scoodlers, Wheelers too,
All fearsome foes. Remain eschew.
Rinkitink and Boboland,
Gargoyle, Whimsies, Phanfasms,
Growleywogs, the Isle of Phreex,
Foretell demise for the meek.
Pinagree and Ripple Land
Across an ocean and the quickest sand,
Murder, slaying, homicide,
From Rose Kingdom’s thorns no one can hide,
But the most frightening place of all
Is the Kingdom of Nightmares
Where all men fall.”
They finish their terrifying song, and I shudder.
“Are any of those places monster free?”
“No,” all three of them say in unison.
“That’s too bad,” I say and deflate. It would have been nice if there were a safe place to go if I am stuck here. Although I guess the City of Emeralds could be that place.
“It is,” Nick says.
“I hear Jinxland is the worst,” Werelion says. “Jinxland is part of Quadling. It borders the Great Sandy Waste. Glinda called upon the land to bound it with the highest of mountains so they could not get to the rest of Oz without great distress. There is a rumor they have elected their own evil ruler and consider themselves independent. That happened after they wrote the song. Jinxland is the part of Oz that’s closest to the Kingdom of Nightmares, just across the Great Sandy Waste.”
“You may find this surprising, but the Lands of Oz are the least worrisome of all the others. Except for Jinxland,” Ardie says.
Now more than ever, all I want is to get out of the forest, and out of this realm altogether, as far away from monsters and the likes of all threatening beasts. This place sucks, in every sense of the word.
Either depression or just plain stress weighs me down, and fatigue overwhelms me.
“I think I wore myself out, guys,” I say, fading fast as I slow to a stop.
“You were so light I almost did not notice you on my back while crossing the great ditch. I would be happy to carry you on my back if it would please you, Dorothy,” the Werelion offers.
It’s not even close to nightfall, and I already can’t go on.
“Yes, thank you, Werelion,” I agree, grateful to rest and keep moving. Even though I can’t keep going, I don’t want to stop here.
Werelion puts me on his back, my bag of weapons secure on my shoulders, and he carries me through the thick woods. Here, there are no undead trees in sight, so Toto can walk on his own alongside us. Nick walks at my side and I catch him looking at me with sad eyes too often.
“What?” I say, getting irritated.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?”
“Leaving you. I shouldn’t have done it.”
“We needed the flamethrower.”
“Dorothy, if your armor hadn’t held, you would have been dead.”
“It held though.”
He lets out a sigh and shakes his head.
“I promise I will protect you, and I will not make a mistake like that again.”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” I say, still so tired it worries me. “Why am I so tired? You all seem fine. Do you think they infected me? Am I turning into a zombie?”
“No, Dorothy. It would have been instantaneous,” Ardie says.
“You used magic. If you never have before, that may be why,” Nick says.
“She used magic?” Ardie asks, surprised.
“Against the kalidahs. As I ran back to her, I saw it. A magical force burst from her, knocking the kalidahs back. They were trembling in fear of her when I arrived,” Nick tells them.
“It was the boots.” It must have been. I am not a sorceress. It surprises me even my friends doubt this very obvious fact.
“That may be, but it still moved through you,” Nick says.
“May be?” I say, wanting to challenge his doubts but I just don’t have the energy to sound as irritated as I am.
“Whether you are a sorceress is irrelevant because you used magic. I believe you when you say you are not. Proof enough of that is in your body’s reaction to using it, but it does not change that magic moved through you today, and it was powerful enough to make the scariest monsters in all the lands of Oz and beyond cower at your magical feet. It’s clear it’s the boots, Dorothy, yes, but the magic is the reason your are overwrought.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I say and sigh, unable to continue conversation. I feel so drained. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.
“Just rest,” Nick says and pets my head. It feels so nice I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
When I wake, I am still cradled by the muscled shoulders on Werelion’s back as he carries me through the forest. Abundant green leaves of the lush, tall trees at every side of us obscure the blazing light of the sun. Only peeks of sunlight eke through the few fractures to paint the air with it
s liquid gold mist. Specks of dirt and dust glitter in the gold beams that caress my face as we trudge along. I take a deep, cleansing breath, feeling rested for the first time since I arrived. Relief washes over me. After my battle with the kalidahs I was so depleted.
Through the few breaks in the treetops I see the sun high in the sky, which means it is the afternoon, and within a few steps, as I become fully awake and sit up, we step out of the dense forest into a blood speckled landscape where the trees are much more sparse. With a restoring stretch, I get off Werelion’s back and kiss his cheek in thanks, and if his face wasn’t so furry, I’d be sure he blushed.
After only a short while walking in the open land, we come upon a broad river with fast flowing currents. On the other side of the water is the road of bloody yellow brick running through beautiful countryside. Lush green meadows spotted with bright flowers and splashes of dried blood lie at either side of the road. Blood splashed trees border the road carrying some fruit and a few deteriorating corpses drained of blood. The bodies appear to have been dropped from great heights, having landed in the treetops. Draped across branches, corpses lie broken, dangling, decomposing with lifeless limbs, graying and xanthous and marbled with black veins—it’s foul, and inapposite up against such a vibrant hued country where even the blood spatters are vivid shades of red.
At the other side of the river, the road is now ochre, a sheen of dried blood coating the entirety of its saffron brick, but the overgrown land at either side of the road, although blood spattered, is still lush and emerald green. Despite the decaying bodies peppering the neglected, bright-colored, and bloodied land, we are happy to see this open country before us. Although it may not be safer, the view is much preferred to the dense wood we were just in, but I’m not sure how we’ll get over there.
“How will we cross the river?” I ask.
“A raft,” Ardie says. “Nick could build it.”
“Can you do that?” I ask him, and he flashes his winsome grin.
“I can,” Nick says, and gets started.
He removes one of his axes from his chest plate and chops down small trees to make a raft, and while he’s busy at this, Ardie finds some trees full of not yet rotted fruit on the riverbank. Plums, apples, and peaches. I take them and pack them away for dinner, eating only one plum with some venison for my lunch.
Dorothy In the Land of Monsters Page 15
