“Goodbye, and good luck. I know you will be the ones who save us all.”
“Goodbye, Jellia,” I say, and follow Nick, Ardie, and Werelion into the cavern in the wall.
When I step in, it fills with a green mist and soon we’re flying through hexagonal sheets of crystal that fall away in a green kaleidoscope. Werelion howls in distress, terrified as always, so Toto howls along with him. The sheets of emerald open up to blue sky and Oz shoots us into the air in a high arc. When the thick mist morphs into a large bubble that fits us all, Nick pulls me to him, Ardie puts an arm around me and Werelion, and we float from the highest tower in the palace over the city and over the rampart.
I expect the bubble to lower us to the ground, but it keeps floating out toward the mountains in the distance, over fancy emerald estates and lush emerald farms, over fields of colorful crops and vibrant flowers, and it hits home how stupid agreeing to this could be. This bubble could escort us right to our executioner. I don’t trust this Wizard, but through this entire journey, what’s kept me going is my belief that I’d make it home—Gaylette’s hat knew my name and told me to go to the City of Emeralds. If this has to happen for me to get home, Nick is right, and I have to try. From here on out, I must do whatever it takes to kill this Vampire Witch. I only hope I didn’t just get us all killed.
20
The Search for the Vampire Witch
Hours upon hours pass and we are still in this bubble, floating over fields of soft grass dotted with daisies and buttercups and dried up puddles of old blackened blood and decomposing bones. The moment we left, I handed Toto to Ardie, took out my two girlish braids, and pulled my hair into a low bun, tight and out of my face. The ground becomes rougher and hillier as we advance with untilled ground and no farms or houses for miles.
By the afternoon, the sun shines hot in our faces, but as the sun sets, we approach the mountains, reaching the foothills by the time it falls below the horizon line. When the bubble lowers us to the ground at the mountain’s base, it pops, leaving us here to navigate for ourselves the rest of the way. It would have been ideal for the bubble to take us over the mountains, but I guess help from the Wizard only goes so far.
Werelion is happy to be free from the confines of the zero-gravity bubble, and it’s nice to walk around, but this isn’t the best place to camp—there are no trees to hide us. Here, we are sitting ducks. It’s too dark to head into the mountains though, so we set up camp out in the barren open. Ardie offers to keep watch while the rest of us sleep, and that brings me some relief, but it doesn’t change what a terrible place this was to drop us for the night.
Ardie tells us all he has learned of the Vampire Witch as we have our modest dinner together.
“The Vampire Witch of the West has but one eye that can see everywhere. She sits in the door of her castle, looking around spying on her enemies,” he tells us. “Even now, she is watching us, knowing just what we intend to do,” Ardie warns.
“Yikes, I hope you’re wrong.”
“Winkie Land is a long distance off still—I doubt we are in her sights yet,” Nick says.
“Good,” says Werelion, and I couldn’t agree more.
After dinner, we get into our two tents—me with Nick and Toto with the Werelion—while Ardie stays up and keeps watch. The loose undergarments they wear in Oz are just like pajamas, so I take off my side button pants and blouse and exchange them for black silk shorts and a camisole, then snuggle into our giant sleeping bag. Nick takes off his helmet and chest plates only, for fear of an attack, but when he gets into the sleeping bag beside me, he still holds me close, his arms wrapped around me, and it makes me feel safer somehow. Worn out from the day’s events, we drift off to sleep in seconds.
“Something is coming!” Ardie whispers, waking me and Nick from a dead sleep. “Werebeasts perhaps. There are many and they are coming fast,” he says with an urgency that frightens me.
Nick and I jump up and move—he puts on his remaining armor while I go into the bag of weapons and pull out a sword for Ardie. Nick rushes out of our tent, axes in his hands ready to fight, and I follow with the sword as my boots cover me in armor. Ardie is telling the Werelion who quakes with fear inside the tent he is sharing with Toto, so I peek inside, popping my head up behind Ardie’s.
“Stay in here and keep Toto safe for me, will you?”
The Werelion nods before we close up their tent, and I hand Ardie the sword before I take my position beside Nick standing with his axes ready to strike whatever is coming our way.
Darkness proliferates but thanks to the moonlight and my vision enhancing boots, I can see. Something that sounds like a stampede comes toward us, and howling follows. Even Ardie looks nervous holding the long sword in both hands, a slight tremble in his grip.
“Don’t worry, I got this. Just pick up any who get past me.”
Footsteps pound and rumble against the ground. Whatever is coming is coming fast. The howling gets louder and more of them join in as they approach—it’s unnerving but thanks to my boots, fear is never a factor in these situations.
As our attackers get closer, my armor covers my eyes and homes in on about forty werewolves charging toward us.
“Werewolves,” I say.
“This is my fight,” says Nick. “Get behind me and I will meet them as they come.”
“How do you figure? There are around forty, which means we need to work together. Get ready to chop off some heads, boys.”
“But—” Nicks starts, and I cut him off as the werewolves charge through the pitch black.
“Get ready, they’re here,” I say, my voice low but commanding enough that he listens.
Nick readies his sharpened axes as the pack of werewolves near. Long silver swords extend from my fists as I rush forward swinging in beautiful spins and patterns while double-edged axe-like blades protract from my heels and elbows. They drop four and five at a time—heads roll, body parts fly—and I get a lot of them, but some barrel past me.
Clean through the waist with a spinning kick, I take out another werewolf as I catch sight of Nick swinging his arm and chopping a werewolf’s head in half in one blow. Another werewolf makes it past me, but he also falls under the sharp edge of Nick’s weapon. Nick swings with both arms at once while Ardie swings his sword at any that pass Nick by, and in less than a minute, they all lay dead in a heap. Spent, Nick puts down his axes.
“Good fight,” Ardie says as my armor shrinks back into my boots.
“Let’s go back to sleep,” Nick says as he gathers his axes. I take the sword from Ardie, and we head to our tent.
“Rest well,” Ardie says as we head inside.
Nick takes off his armor and lays it in a pile in the corner of our tent. Tense, angry even, he says nothing.
“That was intense.” He lies down beside me, still silent. “Are you all right?”
“No, I am angry with you, Dorothy.”
“What? Why me?” Why the hell is he mad at me?
“Because I asked you to let me handle it and you dismissed me. Those werewolves could have hurt you or worse. Next time, allow me to handle it on my own.”
“Uh, I have the boots, weapons from a witch, and I took out more than half of them myself. What’s the point of sitting back and letting you fight forty some odd werewolves alone?”
“Because I could have handled it and they could have hurt you.”
“Look, I get that in this world of yours women may not be fighters, but I have these magic boots that protect me, give me strength, make me fearless, cover me with magical metal head to foot, and I have a bag of weapons that can kill lots of werewolves. So why don’t you get over your chauvinistic crap and let me fight with you.”
“Dorothy, I cannot have you hurt.”
“And I cannot have you hurt, so we are at an impasse. Although you may be used to operating alone, you’re part of a team now, and we protect each other. That’s just the way it is. Get used to it.”
His jaw clenches and he huffs,
still upset, but he’s getting over it. A long silence passes between us and it’s clear he’s upset, but it’s because he worries about me, because he cares. Although he’s reluctant to touch me, I cuddle up to him, and he does not hesitate to put his arms around me and hold me close.
“I’m sorry you’re mad at me,” I say, and he sighs, his body relaxing as he unclenches.
“You must stay safe. If you do not, all of this is for nothing.”
“No, it’s not. You are going to the City of Emeralds after this and maybe it will stay vampire free. Ardie will get his cure. The Werelion will get his courage. I’m not the only one who has an interest in this mission of ours.”
“You are the only one I care about.”
“I care about you too. If you didn’t notice I was a help in that fight. These boots make me friggin’ awesome.”
“Friggin’ awesome?” he echoes with an amused smirk and a raised brow.
“Friggin’ A right. Bet your sweet ass they do.”
“Bet my sweet ass? This bathroom talk of yours doesn’t always make sense you realize,” he smirks.
“You have a very sweet ass,” I tease and grab his butt with both hands, and he pulls me tight to him.
“Oh, Dorothy,” he sighs. “I will miss you and your defiant behavior and your bathroom talk.”
“Let’s not think about it.”
He places a gentle kiss on my lips that feels like so much more than a deep, lusty kiss would. This feels like love. But I remind myself those are my feelings, not his. He cares for me, and maybe even loves me, but only as a dear friend.
Just like we have every night for the past week, we fall asleep in each other’s arms, and when we wake, we pack our things, have a quick breakfast so as not to have to look at the pile of dead werewolves that surround us, and head into the mountains.
“It was the Vampire Witch who sent those werewolves for us. I know it,” Ardie says.
“She knows we’re coming for her,” the Werelion says in fear.
“Then we better move faster,” Nick says, picking up his pace, and we all follow suit making it through the first mountain range in good time.
Though fields of tall grass, so tall we can’t see over the blades, we make our way to the next set of mountains in the distance, Nick hacking his way across the grasslands with his axes before us. When the sun is right over our heads, we stop to eat a quick lunch and continue on our way.
Just as the sun sets Toto barks, his head looking into the horizon, and I follow his gaze to a massive flock of dark figures. They look like very large black birds, and as they draw near, I see they are shifter birds—werecrows I think.
The werecrows fly in one great flock toward us when Ardie says, “This is my battle. Get down below the tall blades of grass and let me handle this.”
“Again with this? No one of us alone can handle all those werecrows.”
“I said get behind me, Dorothy!” Ardie commands, so I take a step behind him but there is no way I’m not fighting this with him.
Nick draws two sharp axes as I pull out two long blades from my bag of weapons, and Werelion gets down low holding Toto to his chest, keeping him protected. I nod to him in thanks as he cowers.
My boots expand and cover my entire body in silver weaponized armor leaving only my face revealed as the King Werecrow—an anthropomorphized bird man covered in shining blue-black feathers with a golden crown on his head—swoops down on us head first at the head of the flock. Ardie reaches up and with both hands twists his head right off his neck. He eats birds brains, hunts them every day, and this must be how he does it.
They all dive at us, each the size of a large man with massive wingspans. This doesn’t stop Ardie who rips their heads off one by one while Nick and I slice their heads off two by two. Between the three of us, we behead every one leaving a pile of forty some odd headless werecrow bodies with their severed and torn off heads all about us, very bloody, and very dead.
“You can get up now,” Ardie tells the Werelion who is covered in the blood of the crow shifters, as are we all, shaking with Toto in his arms. He sets Toto upon the bloody ground and we pick up our bags, put away our weapons, and continue on our way.
An hour later, I hear a great buzzing in the air. A swarm of large black insects of some sort come flying toward us. They are huge, buzzing with visible fangs and blood-red eyes.
“Vampire Bees,” Nick says, “it’s one way the Vampire Witch infects entire towns of living people.”
“Great,” I mutter.
I figure my boots will protect me, but what about the rest of them, including Toto?
My boots seem to connect to my thoughts. Maybe I can cover us all with the silver armor that comes from the boots if I think it, visualize it the way I have almost everything else I have done. Worth a shot.
“Get close to me, all of you. Werelion, pick up Toto.” Despite their confusion, they do as I say.
As the bees get closer, I visualize the armor surrounding us all in a pod of sorts, impenetrable by even the smallest of things, and as I do, it happens.
My silver armor grows from my boots, creating a structure around us that all the vampire bees fly right into. I can hear them trying to sting through the metal. I imagine the outer shell weaponizing, slicing and severing their stingers and heads.
Soon, the buzzing and screeching from the vampire bees cease. Silence fills the air in place of the loud buzzing and banging, and the metallic structure around us folds back into my boots with an efficient swiftness. Scattered thick around us, broken, dead vampire bees lie headless, their stingers destroyed.
After handing Toto to Ardie, Werelion says, “Oh, Dorothy! Thank you! Thank you!” and throws his giant lion arms around me in a hug.
“No problem. Thank the boots,” I say as I pat his furry back.
“Let us move,” Nick says.
We start upon our journey once more, heading west through the plains. It takes the entire day but with brisk walking we make it to the next set of mountains we must traverse to get to the Vampire Witch’s castle in the Land of the Winkies. What a ridiculous name for a group of people. Although Munchkins aren’t much better, but the name Munchkins sounds appropriate for the little people that live in Munchkin Land. I bet Winkies are even tinier with a name like that, or maybe they wink a lot, or sparkle or something.
“What are Winkies like? Are they teeny-tiny or do they wink a lot?”
Nick laughs at my question.
“Winkies are not tiny. They are tall compared to Munchkins. An adult Winkie ranges in height from one hundred fifty to over two hundred ozmeters,” Ardie says.
“How tall is that? What’s an ozmeter?”
“One fifty to two hundred is somewhere between this tall and this tall,” Ardie says and puts one hand at about five feet and the other at about seven feet. Seven feet is tall.
“Over two hundred ozmeters is excessive,” Nick corrects.
“It is rare, but it exists,” Ardie defends.
“Maximum height for a male is closer to one hundred ninety ozmeters,” Nick returns.
“Hardly a difference at all,” Ardie grumbles.
“Why are they called Winkies though?”
“Winkie it is the name of the area they are from,” Werelion says. “Winkie Land or Land of the Winkies depending on who you speak to.”
“It is because it is on the water and borders a coast of great waves. The waves are winkens there and the people are Winkies. They have funny accents too,” Ardie says.
“No, you’ve got it wrong,” Nick corrects. “It is because they are friendly there and everyone waves at everyone. That is a winken. It’s not waves like in the ocean. It’s waves like a wave hello. A Winkie winkt means a Winkie waves. A Winkie’s winken is a Winkie’s friendly wave hello.”
“That’s true. A Winkie winkt. That’s an expression I know,” Werelion says.
“Yes, a Winkie’s Winken means a Winkie’s friendly wave hello, but the place is W
inkie Land because it borders an ocean of great waves,” Ardie corrects.
“That is not why. It is because they are friendly people. A Winkie calls a wave in the water ‘Welle’ and the shore an ‘Ufer’ or the coast a ‘Kuste’. Their language is the same, but some words are different and those are a few of them,” Nick says.
“How do you know?” Ardie challenges.
“My mother was a Winkie.”
“Oh,” Ardie says and quiets.
“What was your father?” Werelion asks.
“My father was born in Emerald but moved to the outskirts of Munchkin when he met my mother and bought our land.”
“Is the Vampire Witch a Winkie?” I ask.
“No. She’s a Vampire Witch, and before she became a vampire, she was the Witch of the West. Winkie Land is the country in the west but it has a royal family, and before she was only the witch of that land, but when she turned, she killed the royal family and took over Winkie Land,” Nick says.
“Are all the Winkies are vampires now?”
“No, they use them for feeding. She keeps them as feedbags for her Vampire Army. She turns entire towns but selects the strongest from each place and brings them into her service. They enslave the rest. To keep them from leaving her service to hunt, she needs living for them to feed off of and the Winkies were a perfect group. They are friendly, kind, and won’t fight back—ideal for her purposes,” Nick explains.
“They need to grow a pair.”
“A pair of what?” Ardie asks.
“Balls.”
“Balls?” Ardie asks confused.
“She means testicles,” Nick explains with a smirk. Ardie’s eyes widen in shock.
“You want all Winkies to be male?” Ardie asks me, very confused.
“It’s an expression. It means toughen up. Get strong.”
“That is odd because testicles are very sensitive and not tough at all.”
“Very true,” I say, chuckling in agreement.
“In her realm, they use words related to sexual intercourse, sexual organs, and their functions in everyday conversation that has nothing to do with sexual intercourse, sexual organs, or their functions,” Nick explains.
Dorothy In the Land of Monsters Page 32