Dorothy Must Die Novella #7 (7 page)

“You'd better not,” he said. His voice was dangerous.

“She loves you, you know,” Lanadel blurted. Nox jerked back, and for a second she thought he was going to hit her.

“That's
none of your business
,” he snarled. “None of this is any of your business. And if you tell anyone—and I mean
anyone
—about what you just heard, I'll throw you off this mountain so fast you won't have time to pray before you hit the bottom.”

The way he was looking at her—there was something
frightening about it. As if he wanted to hurt her. As if he wanted to make her disappear. As if he
hated
her.

And then she realized why. He wasn't angry at her for accidentally spying on him. He was angry because she'd seen that he could be hurt—and that Melindra was the one who could hurt him. He was angry because for once she'd seen through the shell to whatever he was underneath—and the person he was underneath wasn't brave enough to choose love over everything he knew.

She didn't like Nox, but she understood him. She felt, sometimes, like they were the same. Working with the Order,
for
the Order, was the only way of working through the pain. Without the Order, without some goal, pain would be all that was left in her.

But Lanadel wasn't ready to hurt the only friend she had in this world to get the revenge she so desperately wanted—and she'd just watched Nox basically stab Melindra in the heart. So maybe they weren't the same, deep down. Nox had really meant what he said. The Order was the only thing he had. But in the last few weeks, she'd learned something important: a friend could make her forget about her pain, too. Not for long. Not for good. But it was something. And, she realized, it was something Nox had never had. And if Melindra really was going to Dorothy's palace on a mission that would almost certainly kill her, it was something she might never have again. She could forgive Nox his pain. She could forgive him for hurting the girl she cared about more than anyone else living that she knew. But if he didn't
stop Melindra—if he let her go to her death—then he was no different to her than Dorothy. And if Melindra died, she'd make him pay, too. Because, she realized, there was a part of her—yet another Lanadel—who felt something more for Melindra. Something messier and more complicated than just friendship. Just another piece of herself to add to the list of all her different selves. All the different directions her heart wanted to go.

“Well?” He raised an eyebrow. “Shall we go back?”

“I—I can't,” she admitted. “I think I used up all my magic getting here.”

He smiled without any warmth behind it. “Too bad. I guess you'll have to take the long way home,” he said, and vanished with a pop as faint as a bursting bubble. Lanadel took one last look at the stars and sighed. She had no idea how far up she was. But she was pretty sure it was a long walk back to her bed.

The next morning, she got up at dawn as usual. She hadn't slept after making her way down the endless twisting and turning tunnels that led back to the Order's caverns from the mountaintop lookout. She wasn't looking forward to facing Nox after what she'd seen last night. And how could she possibly hide what she knew from Melindra?

A cloud of silence hung over the breakfast table. Even Mombi seemed subdued. Melindra's eyes were red-rimmed and she tore furiously at her bread crust in silence. Holly and Larkin kept exchanging wide-eyed glances, clearly dying to know what was going on. Nox was staring at his bowl of gruel, refusing to look up as Lanadel entered the cavern. She took a deep breath, trying to decide where to sit.

And then suddenly there was a cracking noise and a flash of light from the far end of the cavern. With a pop, all of Glamora's enchantments vanished: the Flutterbudgets, the chandeliers,
the fire, the food. Where the magical fire had burned a second earlier, someone—or something—was crumpled on the floor, unmoving. Nox leapt to his feet and rushed over with Melindra close behind him. Holly, Larkin, and Lanadel ran after them and Mombi waddled in the rear as fast as her short legs could manage.

As Lanadel got closer she could see Nox was bending over a girl not much older than she was. It was impossible to tell what she was wearing; it might have been a plain dress, but it was so dirty and torn that hardly any of the original garment remained. She was bleeding from a dozen cuts, her exposed skin covered in blood, and a terrible wound gaped from her forehead. The girl's eyes were closed and Lanadel thought for an awful moment that she might be dead until she saw the faint rise and fall of her chest.

“Summon Gert and Glamora,” Mombi said to Nox in a low voice. “Now.” Nox jumped to his feet and put two fingers to his mouth as though he was about to whistle, but no sound came out of his open mouth. A few seconds later Glamora and Gert appeared next to Mombi with a pop.

“Oh no!” Glamora gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Her
horn
!”

What horn?
Lanadel wondered.

“We have to get her to the healing pool at once,” Mombi said, pushing the trainees out of the way. “Melindra, help me carry her. I'm afraid to move her using magic.” But the girl's eyelids were fluttering. She coughed weakly and rolled over onto her side, wheezing for breath.

“Not—bad—as it looks,” she whispered. “Let me—walk.”

“Not a chance,” Melindra said, gathering the girl up in her arms with infinite tenderness. She stood again as if the girl's limp body weighed nothing at all, the muscles in her back and arms rippling.

“Forget about me,” the girl wheezed. “You have to—” But she broke off, hacking and coughing. Blood bubbled from her mouth. Gert leaned forward and brushed the girl's forehead with her fingers, her eyes closed.

“Oh dear,” she said. “Oh, this is not good at all.” She opened her eyes and looked at Mombi. “Dorothy is moving far more quickly than we expected. We sent poor Annabel into terrible danger without realizing it.”

Lanadel drew in a breath—this was Annabel, the missing member of the Order who they'd been so worried about. She was alive—but barely.

“We all know the risks,” Nox said in a low voice, but his face was strained with worry. “This is what we're trained for. This is why we're here. Melindra,” he said, “if we don't get her to the healing pool, she's going to die.”

“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.”