Dorothy Must Die: The Other Side of the Rainbow Collection: No Place Like Oz, Dorothy Must Die, The Witch Must Burn, The Wizard Returns, The Wicked Will Rise

by Danielle Paige

  “Em!” I cried.

  “I’ve got her!” Uncle Henry raced up from behind me. It’s a good thing my aunt was so tiny and a good thing Uncle Henry was stronger than he looked, after all those years of working alone in the fields. Without even pausing in his stride, he swept Aunt Em up into his arms, threw her over his shoulder, and kept on running.

  It didn’t matter. It was too late. The trees had closed in on us, blocking the path forward.

  They were behind us as well, their branches weaving tightly into one another, trapping us completely.

  One of the trees snarled and lunged for Aunt Em. She cried out in terror as it slashed its wooden claws against her face, leaving three thin lines of blood on the ridge of her cheekbone.

  I didn’t look at him, but I could feel my uncle trembling next to me. I should have been scared, too, but I wasn’t. Just the adrenaline, I guess. Instead, I felt myself go white-hot with rage.

  How dare these trees threaten me? How dare they harm the people I cared about? I didn’t even think they wanted to hurt us. I think they were just trying to humiliate me. Just like Suzanna and Mitzi had done at my birthday party.

  Maybe that would work back in Kansas, but here in Oz, I demanded respect.

  “Stop,” I commanded.

  My shoes pulled tight on my feet, like they’d just gotten a size smaller. A shock of energy sizzled up from where my heels dug against the bricks and spread through my body. It felt strange, but I welcomed it.

  It felt like another person had taken hold of me. “I am Dorothy Gale,” I said. The words sounded strange and foreign as they came out of my mouth, reverberating through the endless tangle of branches.

  The trees were listening. “I am the Witchslayer. Allow us to pass, or suffer the fate of all the others that have stood in my way.”

  Just like that, the trees began to relax their branches. They shrank away, stifling their hissing like it had all been one big accident. Slowly, they crawled out of the road and back into the forest, where, one by one, they began to settle their roots back into the dirt.

  We were free to go on.

  I had done that somehow. All I’d had to do was ask. Were the trees just big pushovers in the end? Or was it something about me that had scared them?

  “How—” Aunt Em said. Uncle Henry dropped her out of his arms and placed her upright again.

  “What came over you, girl?” my uncle asked. “Not to say I’m not grateful, but . . . you didn’t even sound like yourself.”

  “I don’t know how I did it,” I said uncertainly. I had found a power somewhere within myself, and I had used it. Or had it used me? It was hard to tell. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

  “Next time,” Aunt Em suggested, “it might be wise to bring an ax.” She glanced over at me nervously. There was relief in her eyes that we’d made it through the woods alive but I thought I saw something like fear, too. Not fear of the trees either. Fear of me.

  “There’s not going to be a next time,” Uncle Henry spat. “Because we are going home. I’ll spread my own butter if it means I never have to go through anything like that again as long as I live.”

  The four of us carefully made our way through the rest of the forest not saying anything else about what had happened. The trees were still scowling and making jack-o’-lantern faces at us from the side of the road, but they didn’t make a peep. We walked quickly. Toto hopped into my arms, where he stayed, keeping careful watch on our surroundings.

  Soon, moonlight began to streak through the gaps in the branches, and then the path opened up. We had made it out of the woods. A silvery vista unfolded before us, the winding path of yellow bricks shimmering like water and dipping down into a huge, breathtaking valley. All along the road, little flowers lit the way, their centers glowing with flickering blue flames.

  I collapsed onto the road and caught my breath, finally able to let down my guard. I put a palm against my face and drew back blood from where one of the trees had scratched me. My calves were shooting with pain from running. Or was it from something else?

  And yet, I wasn’t really tired. Winded, yes, but not tired. Actually, I felt more alive than ever, like I had energy seeping from every pore on my body.

  I followed the road into the valley and then up the crest of the next hill, and I saw that we had finally reached our destination: there on the horizon was the Scarecrow’s house, golden and radiant against the night sky, lit from within. Just like the Munchkins had told us, the house was made entirely from enormous corncobs as tall as trees and five times as wide around, each one forming a single, towering turret. It wasn’t just a house. It was a castle, really.

  I pointed. “That’s where we’re headed. That’s where my friend the Scarecrow lives.”

  Uncle Henry whistled. “I’ve heard about the Corn Palace in South Dakota, but I don’t think it’s anything compared to that.”

  We followed the road down the hill, into the valley. The evening was cool and the breeze felt good against my skin and everything was so pleasant that our frightful experience in the woods was almost forgotten. Almost.

  What had I done back there? I wondered. Had the trees’ bark simply been worse than their bite? Or had my shoes had something to do with it?

  I was still considering the question when a certain feeling of familiarness came over me, and then I saw it: at the edge of the field, a wooden post was sticking up out of the ground at a lopsided angle.

  Something about seeing it there, like nothing had changed, made me almost want to cry. I knew that post. It was where I had first found the Scarecrow. Without him, I would never have made it to the Emerald City, would never have been able to defeat the Wicked Witch of the West. I would never have learned how brave I could really be.

  Seeing it there, for the first time I knew that I was back. I was really, really back. He had been my friend, and I had missed him so much. Now I was going to see him again.

  “What is it, Dorothy?” Aunt Em asked, seeing a small smile on my face.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’m just happy.”

  Nine

  Uncle Henry and Aunt Em were still huffing and puffing from the climb up the hill when we finally approached the entrance to the corncob mansion. It was even bigger up close than it had looked from far away, and I felt almost nervous as I reached for the corncob knocker on the door.

  What if he was different? What if he didn’t remember me? What if he was old and gray? (Could Scarecrows get old? There was still so much about Oz that I didn’t know.)

  There wasn’t much time to wonder anything. The door opened before I could knock, and there he was, right before my eyes, just exactly the very same as I’d left him; just the same as I’d remembered him every day since Glinda had sent me home.

  “Dorothy!” the Scarecrow exclaimed. I threw myself into his straw arms and he swept me up and spun me around, whooping with elation. “The Munchkins sent a bluebird to tell me you were on your way, but I was afraid to believe it!”

  “You know I’d never leave you for good,” I said, laughing.

  I was still grinning from ear to ear when he set me back down again, but the Scarecrow’s face looked more serious. “We missed you, Dorothy,” he said, and his kind, smiling, drawn-on eyes—the ones I’d never forgotten—began to fill with tears. “Oz hasn’t been the same without you. I didn’t think you were ever coming back.”

  “I didn’t either,” I said, reaching out to touch his arm. “But I’m back because of Glinda. I know she’s in trouble, and I have to rescue her. Do you know where she is?”

  The Scarecrow cocked his stuffed head to the side.

  “Glinda?” he asked. “What have you heard about her?”

  “I saw her,” I said. He looked even more surprised at that. “She was at my old house by the Munchkin village. Well—it wasn’t her exactly. It was more like some kind of vision. Like she was trying to send me a message. She told me she needed my help.”

  The Scarec
row looked concerned. He was stroking his chin in thought. I knew that if anyone would know what to do, it was him—he was the wisest creature in all of Oz, and probably anywhere else, too.

  “We have much to talk about,” he said after a spell. “But first, introduce me to your friends.”

  I laughed. I’d been so excited to see him that I’d forgotten all about my aunt and uncle. They were still standing in the doorway looking like they had absolutely no idea what they’d gotten themselves into.

  “They’re not my friends, silly. They’re my family—my aunt Em and uncle Henry.” As I said their names, Uncle Henry gave a funny little half wave and Aunt Em bowed awkwardly.

  The Scarecrow lit up—it’s amazing how expressive a painted-on face can be. He clapped his gloved hands together and he bounded for them, practically tackling them as he wrapped his flimsy arms around their waists. “Of course! I’ve heard so much about both of you! How have your travels in Oz been so far?”

  Aunt Em, Uncle Henry, and I all exchanged a glance.

  “Oh, it was all just grand until we came to the screaming monster trees that tried to murder us,” Uncle Henry said.

  “Oh dear,” the Scarecrow said. “The Forest of Fear? Don’t tell me the Munchkins didn’t warn you.”

  “How could we not pass through the forest?” I asked. “There’s no way around it, at least as far as I could tell.”

  “Of course you have to pass through it but—the Munchkins really didn’t tell you to stuff your ears with Pixie thread?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t even know what a Pixie thread is.”

  “It keeps you from hearing that infernal racket the trees love to make. If you can’t hear them, you won’t be afraid. And if you’re not afraid, they won’t even know you’re there. Won’t bother you a bit. They’ll just look like exceedingly ugly trees. Which, in the end, is really all they are.”

  They sensed fear. Was that how I had managed to get rid of them? Just by showing them that I wasn’t scared?

  No. Aunt Em and Uncle Henry and Toto had all been frightened. Somehow, I had made the trees afraid of me.

  The problem was that it wasn’t just the trees who had been scared of me. I’d scared myself, too.

  “I don’t think we’ll be traveling back that way anytime soon if we can avoid it,” I said. “With or without Pixie thread.”

  The Scarecrow sighed. “A reasonable response. Those trees are such a nuisance. Bad for tourism, especially when the Munchkins can be so forgetful about reminding passers-through to protect themselves. I keep telling the princess that she should just set a match to the whole forest, but she won’t hear of it. She says they’re part of Oz—that destroying them would upset the whole magical balance.”

  “If that’s balance,” Aunt Em said, shuddering at the memory of the afternoon, “I’d hate to think what it looks like when the scales start to tilt.”

  The Scarecrow tipped his hat to her. “A very good question, Mrs. Gale,” he said. “Let’s hope you never find out the answer. Now, come, let’s eat. You must be starving after what you’ve been through.”

  He turned to a doorway that led deeper into the castle and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Munchkins, prepare a feast for our special guests!”

  As we entered a great dining room two Munchkins dressed in yellow and green—with tiny, pointy hats perched atop their bald heads—appeared out of nowhere.

  We took our seats at the banquet table—even Toto had been given a place next to me—and before we knew it, our table settings flew in front of us only to land gently at our places: the napkins perfectly folded, the forks on the left, none of it even a smidgen askew.

  Within seconds, our glasses were filled to the top with a delicious-looking beverage I didn’t recognize, and it was only five minutes before tray after heaping tray of piping hot food appeared on the table.

  “I took the liberty of having food prepared that I thought you’d be familiar with, rather than some of Oz’s more . . . exotic native dishes,” the Scarecrow said, much to the relief of my aunt and uncle, who, despite their experience with the self-buttering corn, still seemed apprehensive at the idea of eating magical food.

  “And very kind it was of you! There’s enough grub here to feed my old army platoon,” Uncle Henry said. He picked up a serving spoon and helped himself to a generous portion of mashed potatoes.

  “It sure does look good. I think,” Aunt Em said, eyeing a heaping bowl of caviar, which, even though it wasn’t the least bit magical, was probably just as exotic as anything else Oz had to offer as far as she was concerned. At least Uncle Henry had gotten the chance to see a few scattered corners of the world, back in his army days. This was the first time Aunt Em had ever set foot outside of Kansas.

  She was taking her maiden voyage in remarkable stride.

  I’d never eaten so much in my life and I’m pretty sure Uncle Henry and Aunt Em hadn’t either. Yet somehow we managed to finish each course just as another even larger one came. I guess a day of traveling will make a girl hungry.

  “Aren’t you going to have any food, Mr. Scarecrow?” Aunt Em asked around the time that they brought out the stuffed goose.

  “Oh,” the Scarecrow said, waving her question aside. “I don’t eat. The Wizard may have given me an exceptional set of brains but I’m still shy a working stomach. Now, Dorothy, tell me what brought you here. I’ve been dying to know!”

  I wasn’t sure how much to tell him just yet. I’m not sure why, but I didn’t want Em and Henry knowing about the shoes, though they had to have an inkling.

  “Well,” I said, smiling brightly. “I made a wish, and before you know it, we were all here!”

  “Is that so,” the Scarecrow said thoughtfully. I could tell he wasn’t buying it.

  “We landed right in the same spot as last time—my old house was still there, if you can even imagine.”

  “Of course it is,” he replied with a smile. “That little house is considered one of Oz’s most important landmarks.”

  Uncle Henry looked up from his Waldorf salad. “Mr. Scarecrow,” he said. “Dorothy tells us you’re the smartest character in all the land.”

  The Scarecrow nodded modestly, and Uncle Henry continued. “My wife, Emily, and I, we were hoping you’d have some idea of how the three of us might be able to get back—”

  “Oh, drop it already!” I snapped. Aunt Em gasped, and I instantly clapped my hand to my mouth. I have to say that I was shocked at myself. Never in my life had I spoken so disrespectfully to my uncle. Or to anyone, really.

  But it had been such a long day, and my aunt and uncle were being so troublesome. Here they were, eating the greatest meal they’d ever dared to dream of, and all they could think of was how to go back to our sad little farmhouse and our dusty pigpens.

  I must try to control my temper, I chided myself. If I wanted my aunt and uncle to see things my way, it wouldn’t do to make them angry.

  The Scarecrow shot me a curious sidelong glance but otherwise ignored my outburst. “It’s true that I’ve been blessed with an excess of the finest brains known to man or beast, Munchkin, witch, or wizard,” he said, tapping his head with a stuffed glove. “But I’m sad to say that traveling between Oz and the outside world is no simple feat.”

  “I see,” Henry said.

  “Dorothy thinks a lady by the name of Glinda might be able to help,” Aunt Em said. “Do you have any idea of where we might find her?”

  Again, the Scarecrow gave me a meaningful look that said, We’ll discuss this later. “I do not,” he said. “Glinda’s whereabouts have been unknown for quite some time now.”

  “For how long?” I asked, putting my fork down, suddenly interested again in the conversation.

  “Oh, it’s hard to say,” the Scarecrow replied. He fiddled with a piece of straw that was poking out of his head. “You know we’re not much for time here in Oz. No one gets older here, and we celebrate the holidays whenever we’re of a mood for it. But it was s
ome time after Ozma took the crown. Glinda let it be known that she had important magical business beyond the Deadly Desert, and that we shouldn’t worry about her—that she would return when the time was right. That must have been, oh, at least ten years ago, if I venture a guess.”

  “Ten years!” I exclaimed. “But, how long have I been gone?”

  The Scarecrow turned in his seat and fixed his eyes on me seriously. “I don’t know, but I daresay there are many people here in Oz who won’t remember you at all. I, myself, had almost forgotten what you looked like.”

  My last adventure here had lasted for what felt like almost a month, but when I’d returned home, only a few days had passed. Still, the idea that I had been gone so long that I’d been forgotten was unimaginable. All of my memories were still so fresh in my head.

  I had so much to ask the Scarecrow. Why wasn’t he king anymore? Who was this Ozma person? Did he have any suspicions about where Glinda had really gone? But I had the impression that he didn’t want to talk about any of it in front of my aunt and uncle, and so I finished my meal in silence.

  But there was so much on my mind that I hardly touched my food. Uncle Henry was a different story. I hadn’t even made a dent in my Waldorf salad, and he had already scarfed down a goblet full of maraschino cherries, a small mincemeat pie, several hunks of lamb slathered with green mint jelly, and—despite the fact that I was unsure where exactly shellfish came from in Oz, where there were no oceans that I knew of—a giant portion of shrimp cocktail served in a crystal goblet brimming with crushed ice.

  And then they brought out the ice cream.

  “Oh dear,” Aunt Em said when she saw it. “I’m afraid I can’t possibly eat any more. The meal was just perfect, Mr. Scarecrow, but I’m afraid it’s been quite a day. Would it be terribly rude of me to excuse myself?”

  “Of course not,” the Scarecrow said. He clapped his hands and another Munchkin, this one dressed all in yellow, appeared. “This is BonBon. He’ll show you to your rooms.”