Authors: Danielle Paige
“Dorothy,” Iris said, and spat on the ground. Hex was shocked.
“Who
is
this Dorothy?” he asked.
“She used to be the best thing that had happened to Oz,” Iris said, “but then she turned out to be the worst.” Hex waited for Pete to cut her off, but to his surprise, Pete let her continue, her voice growing even more passionate as they walked. “For a long time, a terrible usurper ruled Oz,” she explained. “He came from the Other Place in a beautiful balloon that floated in
the sky. This was a long time ago, of course—the citizens of Oz were much more trusting then. He deceived everyone in Oz and made them believe he was a good and kind Wizard, when he was nothing of the sort! He didn’t even have magic—just a bunch of fancy tricks. He made the people of Oz build him the Emerald City, and then he shut himself up in the palace so no one would realize he was a fraud. He stole the throne from the fairies, the rightful rulers. We tried to stop him, but he was too powerful.”
“That’s not exactly true,” Pete said drily. “The citizens of Oz have never done much to stop anything from happening.”
“The monkeys did!” Iris said hotly. “We saw through him from the very first! We knew he was trouble! We called him the Traitor! We never bowed down to him!”
“You didn’t try to stop him until it was too late,” Pete said. “Until he sold you into slavery. And all of this happened before you were even born, Iris.”
“Are you going to let me finish or not?” Iris snapped, and Hex was surprised to see tears in her eyes. Pete relented, waving at her to go ahead. “That was when Dorothy first showed up,” Iris continued. “She came from the Other Place.”
If Dorothy was from the Other Place, and
he
was from the Other Place—did that mean they were related somehow? Had he known her? Something stirred at the back of his mind. He was so close, he thought, to putting it all together. So close to remembering who he was. But understanding was still on the far side of that shimmering wall—close enough to touch, but separated from him by a barrier he couldn’t yet cross.
“Dorothy defeated the Traitor, and sent him back to the Other Place, and no one has heard from him since. Good riddance, if you ask me. She went back, too, and Ozma took the throne”—Iris gave a respectful little curtsy, as if this Ozma could somehow see her—“and everything was as it should be. But then Dorothy came back. Nobody knows how or why she got here, but this time everything was different.
She
was different. It was as if something—or someone—had brought her back to destroy Oz. At first, no one realized anything was wrong. She stayed in the palace with Ozma, and they had all sorts of banquets, and everyone who was anyone was invited—
I
didn’t want to go, of course,” Iris said quickly, “even if I’d had an invitation, I would have turned it down, I don’t care a thing about parties.” The wistful look in her eye belied her words. “But then Ozma changed somehow, and suddenly it was Dorothy this, Dorothy that. The Tin Woodman’s armies marching around and laying waste to villages. It’s like Oz has been wounded; the whole land is bleeding magic, and unless someone puts a stop to Dorothy, we’re all doomed.”
Iris’s tone had grown more and more somber as she spoke, and even the weather echoed her mood: a huge thunderstorm was piling up in the distance, moving toward them rapidly, and the temperature was dropping. They were almost across the meadow; at the horizon, Hex could make out something bright and undulating that must have been the Sea of Blossoms. They were close then. Pete looked up at the sky. There was something unnatural about how quickly the storm was moving. Something
almost—magical. “You wanted to know what the third test was,” Pete said, looking at him. “It’s coming for you now.”
Hex stared up at the sky. The thunderclouds, directly overhead now, swirled and coalesced, taking the shape of giant men who battled each other fiercely. As each blow landed, thunder cracked and boomed and jagged spears of lightning shot down toward the earth. Iris shrieked as a white-purple streak of lightning struck the ground just a few feet from where they stood. Hex recognized nothing about the meadow, and yet everything about this scene was familiar: the heaving purple clouds, the thunder, the color and sound of the lightning—
he was in a basket, a basket floating in the air, while all around him a thunderstorm just like this one raged; he was fleeing something, or going somewhere. He was leaving Oz. It was so close
—he grasped desperately for the tangled threads of memory, but they slipped away again, just out of reach. An earsplitting rumble of thunder followed another terrific crack of lightning that struck the earth in front of them so fiercely it split the ground open. Purple and gray smoke poured from the fissure, forming itself into a stairway that led down into the darkness.
As quickly as it had come upon them, the thunderstorm dissipated into a few scattered clouds that veiled the bright sun and cast long shadows across the now-chilly meadow. Hex shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. Iris gaped at the staircase, her expression so comical that Hex would have laughed if he himself had not been filled with fear at the sight of it.
“This is as far as we go,” Pete said calmly, as if nothing out
of the ordinary had happened. “I’ll see Iris safely to the edge of the Sea of Blossoms, and then I must return to the palace. I’ve already been away far too long. Dorothy will be suspicious.”
“What about me?” Hex said, his voice more plaintive than he would have liked.
“
I
wouldn’t go down there if you paid me,” Iris said vehemently.
“You’re not the one who has to,” Pete said to her. He pointed to Hex’s pack. “Change into the clothes you brought with you before you go,” he said. “You won’t need anything else.”
Hex swallowed. “What if I refuse?”
Pete raised an eyebrow. “If you refuse? Do you really want to wander around forever like the village idiot, never knowing who you are and where you came from?”
“Maybe I do. Maybe I’m happy this way.”
Pete shrugged. “In that case, you’re no help to us. I’ll take away your protection—and your disguise. There are a lot of people in Oz who won’t be too happy to see you as you are—and you won’t even know why, or who to protect yourself from.”
“You’d leave me to die?”
“We do what’s necessary for the greater good of Oz,” Pete said dismissively. “Nothing comes without sacrifice.”
Iris was looking back and forth between the two of them, her eyes wide. “I think you should probably do what he says,” she said to Hex. “He sounds kind of serious.” She limped forward and stuck out a paw. After a minute, Hex realized she meant for him to shake it, and obliged. “You started out kind of a rat,” she
said. “But then you made up for it. You’re not so bad, human. Thanks for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, bemused. “Good luck with your—”
“Double-entry accounting is not a matter of
luck
,” she said. “It is an operation of
skill
.” She limped off toward the Sea of Blossoms, not looking back to see if Pete was following.
“Good luck,” Pete said. “Iris is right, you know. You are doing a pretty good job lately, for a human.” His tone had the same begrudging respect he’d had back in the clearing, after Hex had fought the Lion to save Iris.
“Can’t you at least warn me what the last test will be?” Hex asked.
Pete laughed. “You should know better by now than to even ask. But when it comes time for you to make a choice, remember: you’re the Wizard. Once you ruled Oz, and now Oz is a part of you. Think about that, before you accept any gifts that are offered you.”
With that cryptic remark, Pete turned to follow Iris. “Good-bye!” Hex called after him, but he didn’t turn around or acknowledge Hex’s farewell. “And thanks for nothing,” Hex muttered under his breath. He dug his old suit out of the pack Pete had left him, feeling a little silly, and changed behind a tree—as if there was anyone around for miles who could see him. He adjusted his top hat on his head and straightened his jacket. The clothes might make the man, but they didn’t tell him anything new about who he was. With that, he laid the pack tidily under
the nearest tree, took a deep breath, and started down the stairs.
Although the lightning had opened up the earth just moments ago, the staircase into the earth seemed ancient. The steps were as worn as if generations of feet had passed over them. Torches burned along the walls at intervals just regular enough to light the way, but their flame was cold and blue, not the cheery orange of real fire, or even the flickering multihued warmth of Pete’s magical campfire. The air was chilly, and Hex pulled his jacket close.
The staircase ended at last at a long, dim corridor that stretched before him into more darkness. He looked around him for some kind of light, but the torches were firmly fastened to the walls. Did
he
have the magic to make a lantern? Even as he thought it, the air around him sparked and crackled, crystalizing into a kerosene lantern with a metal handle and a cheerful golden flame. He plucked it out of midair: it was solid and unmistakably real. What else could he conjure up? A five-course dinner? A trip home?
A fur coat to stave off the chill? But no matter how he concentrated, nothing else happened. Magic, apparently, was fickle. No surprise there. He held the lantern aloft, advancing cautiously down the corridor. After a few minutes, the hallway abruptly ended in a rough wall. He stared in disbelief at the wall. He rapped it with his knuckles: solid stone. Was he supposed to cast a spell? Say a magic word? He racked his brains for any kind of clue Pete had given him, anything that would indicate what he was supposed to do next, but came up with nothing. He was at a literal dead end.
Well, he thought, no one could say he hadn’t tried. He’d done his best to meet the test, and nothing had happened. There was no reason for him to stick around in this big, empty hall. Pete would have to understand. Maybe Pete wouldn’t even know—he could find a nice village somewhere, settle down. Perhaps he’d try being a farmer, or a grocer. What did people do for work in Oz? Maybe he didn’t even need to work, if he was such a powerful magician. He could get a nice set of robes and a wand, maybe teach himself to fly. He could visit Iris and the monkeys, impress them with his powers. Perhaps Queen Lulu would award him some kind of honorary decree. He’d be esteemed above all other humans, loved—and maybe feared, just a little—by all.
Buoyed by this cheerful thought, he turned around to leave. As he took the first step, there was a powerful
whoosh
and hundreds of torches flared to life all around him, nearly blinding him. He threw one arm over his eyes and yelped in surprise.
“At last,” said a cool, dry, sardonic voice behind him. “We
have the immeasurable honor, brethren, of meeting the Wonderful Wizard of Oz.”
Hex turned around very, very slowly, blinking until his eyes adjusted to the light’s dazzle. The rough stone hallway was gone: he was standing in an immense, palatial room lit by huge crystal chandeliers; the light was not so extraordinarily bright after all, but had just seemed so in contrast to the dim hallway. The room was luxuriously appointed; the walls were draped in black velvet, and the floor was covered with rich, tapestried carpets piled three or four deep. And it was full of people. They stared at him curiously from where they reclined against carelessly stacked overstuffed velvet pillows or slouched in ornately carved armchairs that rested next to enameled tables bearing platters of glossy, dark fruits he didn’t recognize. They were all alarmingly beautiful, but eerily identical, with bone-pale skin and hair a shade whiter. They were dressed alike in black clothes that blended into the walls so that their cruel, fox-like faces seemed to float, disembodied, in the darkness. The nearest of them shifted in his chair and there was something inhuman about the way he moved, almost as if he was double-jointed. At the center of the room there was a flat black pool, perfectly round and still, whose waters reflected nothing but instead seemed to absorb the light like a black hole.
There was no mistaking the speaker, who lounged regally in a throne-like chair that was bigger and more elaborate than all the other furniture in the room. Carved out of some dense, shiny black stone, it was studded with blood-colored rubies that
gleamed dully in the soft light of the chandeliers. Its occupant was even paler than the other people in the room, with long, sleek white hair that spilled down his shoulders and over the rich black robes he wore. One long, leather-clad leg was slung over the throne’s armrest, and he kicked idly with one booted foot against its side. A long black cigarette burned between the first and second knuckles of his fingers; he flicked ash disdainfully on the carpet before taking a long, decadent drag. His expression was one of utter, all-consuming boredom, but his black eyes glittered dangerously.
Hex coughed, trying not to stare around him. “You seem to know who I am,” he said cautiously, “but I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
The man threw his head back and laughed. “It speaks, brethren!” he chortled, and all around him the other people in the room tittered. Hex flushed an embarrassed red. “Oh come now, Wizard, don’t be so easily flustered,” the man said, still laughing. “There was a time when all of us here were under your estimable thumb, was there not? We were simply
terrified
of your
incredible
powers.” At this, everyone around him only laughed harder. Hex scowled and balled his hands into fists, determined not to let these strange people get the best of him.
“Ah, my dear Wizard, I apologize,” the man said, still chuckling. “Come forward, and let me greet you properly. Welcome to the Kingdom of the Fairies.”
As he skirted the pool, Hex saw that the fairy’s black cloak was actually a pair of tightly folded wings—and, his glance
darting around the room, he saw that the other occupants of the room all sported wings as well. Some of the fairies yawned and stretched as he passed, unfurling their wings—black, but lacy and delicate as a butterfly’s—and waving them gently. Others stared at him openly, craning their heads to get a better look at him. At last he was standing before the throne, unsure of whether or not he should kneel.