Despite her scepticism Dorothy follows Outika, as she leads her to a beautiful balcony much like the one she entered, then simply flicking her wrist to pull a golden chair from under the table. Smiling gently, the witch undoes the wolf fur around Dorothy’s neck with a slight gesture of her hand as she politely asks, ‘If you don’t mind?’ The young girl is silent, almost grateful to have the warm fur removed, watching as it lifts itself from her body and drifts to the floor.
As they both sit down Dorothy watches the witch, leaning an elbow against the railing as she stares out into the chrome yellow sun. ‘I know why you’re here,’ she says, and the young girl panics, clenching a fist as she replies, ‘You do?’ Sighing, Outika’s eyes still focus on the bright sun as she asks, ‘What did the wizard ask of you?’ Dorothy hesitates; unsure if she should say, but assumes if the witch really wanted to know she’d pry her lips open. So she returns, ‘To kill you,’ and Outika smiles, asking, ‘Why do you think he sent you to kill me?’ Dorothy feels the pressure rising, mouthing, ‘I don’t know,’ threatened by the calm witch. Slowly looking away from the sun Outika’s faint smile fades, and a grim cloud casts over Dorothy’s illusion of Oz as her words creep along the air:
‘Because he knew you would die trying! And if Bopeia wanted to help you she would have taken you to the wizard herself, not guided you through the deadly woods.’
Dorothy opens her mouth, trying to speak but nothing comes out, so the witch asks, ‘What have you heard about me?’ Bewildered, the young girl looks blankly at Outika, feeling lost in the strange world. ‘You’re wicked,’ she insists, and the calm witch looks the scared young girl in the eyes, placing a gloved hand on her cheek as she softly moans:
‘I am not wicked child…It was because of me you had a boat to cross my land, I was protecting you in the mist and Adam saved you from your fall. I’ve done nothing to harm you, and I don’t intend to. The wizard thought you would die in the west, assumed you’d never even reach me, but he was wrong, you’re safe now.’
Dorothy grits her teeth, still strong and ready to fight the witch’s words as she exclaims, ‘But the things you’ve done!’ Leaning toward her, removing the gloved hand from her cheek Outika asks, ‘What have I done? Tell me,’ and the young girl bites, ‘The people…the dead ones in the west.’
Leaning back, looking to the chrome sun again the witch presumes, ‘You have much to learn about Oz. I suppose you even think I’m evil because I wear black?’ Young Dorothy mutters, ‘I was told that white means good, I…’ and as the words leave her mouth she realises how gullible she may have been, so terrified in the strange world that she believed every kind voice and superstitious prattle she heard. Outika moves from the table, standing in clear sight as she lifts her arms, motioning:
‘So you think black simply means evil, and good is white? What colour is Toto young child?’
Dorothy grabs at the thin bag around her shoulder, feeling the little dog inside, thinking Outika must be a powerful witch to know the things she does. Then with a simple smile the witch’s black clothing changes to a bright white, as pure diamonds gleam in the sun and she looks at the young girl:
‘I think I need to tell you more about this strange world.’
OUTIKA
27
Looking out at the yellow canyon and the chrome sun blistering in the sky Dorothy watches winged monkeys soar through the air as she wipes sweat from her brow. Landing on the balcony’s railing they clench at it tightly with their feet, bringing bowls of fruit and plates of cake as they place them on the table. The young girl smiles politely without a word as one brings a pot of tea, and another gently pours her a cup. Listening to their odd chatter, even seeing a slight smile on their faces the young girl says, ‘Thank you!’ as they bow their heads and one delicately places a napkin on her lap. The witch smiles at them and they jump to the railings, flying away as Dorothy watches, wondering how her friends are.
Still looking out to the canyon the young girl hears her gracious host voice, ‘Please, you must be hungry,’ and Dorothy turns to look to the food with a smile. Still with her friends in mind, worried that they may be hunted by the winkies she’s cautious of her words, requesting, ‘Please… if you are not evil…can you bring my friends to the palace?’ Outika smiles lightly, offering, ‘Of course, that is where my monkeys have gone,’ as the young girl feels an uneasy reassurance, her curiosity on edge.
‘Thank you but…but how do you know everything you do?’ she asks, and the witch smirks, almost forgetting how curious guests can be, ‘I can see almost everything in Oz, I even saw you arrive in the Munchkin country.’
‘You, you saw me kill Avatonika?’ Dorothy asks curiously, almost with guilt. ‘No, though I wish I had,’ Outika replies, following:
‘I am powerful enough to see the whole of Oz, but cannot see inside the other witches’ dwellings, and I dare not try to attempt the wizard’s.’
Dorothy feels a lump in her throat and reaches for the tea, sipping at it to feel the warm liquid comfort her, prepare her as she asks, ‘You said I needed to know more about Oz, what did you mean?’ With a cold remembrance creeping through her bones, a deep wound reopening, the witch tastes lament and her sad eyes look at the curious girl:
‘Very well, though you may not believe what you hear…I’ve seen almost everything you’ve gone through in this world and you are indeed brave, though you’ve been misled. The cunning Bopeia’s true form is only visible to those who know her sins, and despite what Oz portrays me to be I am the only good witch left.
Long ago, even before creatures walked this earth, it was declared that the witches of the four corners were to protect Oz. We were to rule the land and bring peace, but the north and south had black in their hearts despite their pale white cloth. They waited patiently for many years, let our civilisations grow, then they created war, the first our world had ever known. The people of my land and the country of the munchkins were not prepared, we didn’t know what war was, but like a plague the people of the north and the quadlings of the south spread, slaughtering many.
It was during this war that a wretch now known as Avatonika raped the land of the munchkins and…and killed my sister, claiming herself to be my new kin. Little did I know that Bopeia and Notou had planned this all along; to bring in new blood to overthrow my sister, and soon enough the three brought their armies to the west. Still, the witches’ pact with the east was never known to their people. They forced them into war and watched the ones they were supposed to protect slaughter each other, along with my own. That’s when I cursed the eastern witch’s skin, scarring every inch of her body for what she had done to my sister, though I was not strong enough to fight the three, and it didn’t take long for them to destroy my kingdom. They erased the beauty the west once had and killed my people, they slaughtered the winkies and…and I let them. I was a coward then, and could not bear make more of their race in order to save them. I knew that anything I created would suffer at the hands of the three corners.
The witches left me with a barren land, the queen of a dead country and cast a spell on me. One that lets me leave the palace only three times each millennium, and if I leave a fourth, then my home will smoulder to ash and all of my creations will die. Though this wasn’t enough for them, and they used all of their strength to bring every soul that died in the west back from the netherworld. They created a purgatory of my land, leaving me the ruler of a million tortured dead.
Then the wizard came, taking a small piece of each of the corners as he claimed the centre of Oz as his own. From then on, I knew the witches would not harm me, despite how they’d defile my land with their dead, and kill anything I created outside the palace. They feared him so much that they left me in peace, though made sure that my name was tainted, frightening the land of Oz into conforming to their order. The stories grew and soon I became the monster, my good nature was the irregular in an evil world and I took the mantle of the wretched, the supreme Undesirable, and I was una
ble to convince Oz otherwise. So the witches kept their pact hidden; spreading word of Avatonika’s wretched rule, which she accepted happily, making hers a country almost as feared as the west, whilst Bopeia and Notou persuaded Oz that they were the only good witches left.
After many years in solitude, Queen of a dead land I grew lonely and created new life, Argus who you’ll see shortly, and a dozen or so more. They lived in the palace with me, like friends not servants, though one day they left, merely for a walk through my cursed land. I warned them not to leave but couldn’t force them to stay, Argus never left my side but the others did and the witches knew, so Avatonika showed no mercy. She had finally twisted the munchkins in her own image and they slaughtered my few, ate them in front of my own palace and hung their skin clearly for me to see. So…I created no more.
However, as time passed I watched Oz change, and I knew I couldn’t stay dormant any longer. I made the winkies, the evil ones that scour my land, as I feared making an innocent breed, couldn’t bear to see them die. The winkies are not for comfort and show no love, though they are loyal to me, and most of all, they are killers, made only to protect the west from the other corners. They’ve existed for a long time now, and when I saw what they would do to trespassers I felt confident to bring new life to the west again. That’s when I made the monkeys, Adam and the others, giving them wings so they could fly away from danger. I understand how sceptical you must be, but I have no need to lie to you.’
Dorothy looks at the witch, pulling a hand from her strained eyes as she stares out to the chrome sun again. The young girl’s speechless at first, lost in all the lies she’s been told and unsure if she can trust the accused wicked witch, asking, ‘You said when the wizard came the witches left you in peace, why?’ Turning to Dorothy Outika smirks in distain:
‘The three needed me to fill the circle, and couldn’t risk having me dead. It is said that the four corners could rule the whole land of Oz together, with the infinite power to create and destroy. They thought that to defeat the terrible wizard the four must join, so they couldn’t risk a dead witch…but you’ve taken that hope from them, and they were wrong.’
‘What do you mean?’ Dorothy asks as she feels the chance of going home slipping farther away.
‘The wizard is a demon, but one that can be killed, just like a witch, and by the hands of any man or creature. ’
‘You can’t kill him! I need him to send me home…’ Dorothy bursts, slamming her hands on the table as she stands, finding herself shouting at the witch, ‘…You said they lied, Bopeia…the wizard, can he send me home?’
‘You must understand…’ Outika says sitting calmly,
‘Can he send me home?’ Dorothy persists, clenching a fist against the table with a scream.
Outika looks up at the girl, strong yet weakened with desperation as she lets the silence rest in the air, hoping it will calm her as she gently utters, ‘He has the power to, but I doubt that he will.’
Standing with a grim expression smothering her face Dorothy suddenly sits again, reverting to child-like tactics as she begs the witch, ‘You! You’re powerful! Can you send me back home?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Outika replies pressing a gloved hand against the girl’s, ‘Only the wizard is powerful enough to send you back, but I will help you.’ Dorothy feels a pressure lift from her chest, though entwined with uncertainty as she wonders if the key around her neck has a purpose, and hesitates trusting the witch as she falsely utters, ‘Thank you, thank you!’ Smiling kindly at the young girl Outika looks at the food on the table, and the tea now cold as she touches the cup lightly to make it steam once again. Extending a hand she says, ‘Please indulge, then I’ll show you around the palace whilst we wait for your friends,’ and Dorothy looks at the witch, waiting for a reason not to trust her.
As the witch leads Dorothy through the palace, the young girl’s amazed by such elegant sites. Looking up to the sky from the fine library window, she stares through the isabelline glass to see the yellow sun start to fade with the night. Meanwhile her friends still trek through the barren land, with no compass to guide their way as they walk a straight line through the west. Still repeating the words, ‘Can’t forget Dorothy, think, can’t forget Dorothy!’ the scarecrow ignores everything else and follows the lion, who carries an injured Tin-man on his back. His wounds haven’t stopped bleeding, but he assures the lion that by morning he’ll be able to walk on his own again. With night creeping over them the lion starts to struggle, his energy fading with each step as the tin-man’s jagged metal digs into his skin.
Walking until he’s on the verge of collapsing, the lion feels relieved as the tin-man points to a small cave, grunting, ‘We’ll wait in there until morning,’ but Scarecrow argues, ‘Can’t stop, What about Dorothy? I can’t forget!’ Reassuring him the tin-man replies, ‘I’ll make sure you won’t forget,’ and they make their way into the cave as the lion’s relieved of the tin-man, and collapses to the floor. Having walked for so long in the sun and exerting all of his energy he falls asleep quickly, whilst Tin-man keeps guard and the scarecrow sits patiently for morning, murmuring, ‘Dorothy, can’t forget,’ as he rubs at his tangine necklace.
In Outika’s palace, a curious Dorothy feels the cold night seeping through the corridors with a breeze, wondering how long it will be until her friends are brought from the dead lands. Asking the witch again she’s comforted with a delicate hand placed on her shoulder as Outika says: ‘They will all be back soon I hope, though my monkeys cannot see too well in the dark. Still, I assure you they’ll be with us by morning.’
Leading her through a thin corridor the yellow walls seem darker, dimly lit by a candle in Dorothy’s hand as she stands in front of a room, watching as the witch opens it gently. The heavy wood creeks open, swinging backward as the young girl looks to her host, receiving a slight nod of the head. ‘Please, you will need somewhere to rest until morning,’ Outika says, and Dorothy looks around the room, dazzled by the golden four-poster bed shimmering in the candle light. She eyes the wardrobes, the yellow marble dressing table and the grand window, smiling slightly as she turns to the witch.
Jumping back at first Dorothy looks at Outika, still standing in the shadowed corridor as a man waits beside her. Dressed in black and gold to match the witch, Dorothy looks at his face, nothing but a plain round piece of clay, unmarked and featureless as Outika smiles, ‘Please don’t be frightened, this is Argus, my treasured proteus creation.’ Cautiously looking at the lump of clay atop his human shoulders Dorothy utters, ‘His face,’ and the witch presses a hand over the matter, closing her eyes as hair sprouts from its head and definition forms around its face. Watching curiously the young girl’s amazed as a pair of bright lime coloured eyes, slim lips and other features form, carving themselves from the clay. As Outika removes her hand Argus smiles, and the witch looks to Dorothy, ‘I must rest now, but please, if there’s anything you need Argus will tend to you. Goodnight.’ Watching her turn her back and ready to walk away, the young girl quickly shouts, ‘Wait…You said you would help send me home, how?’ Looking back to her Outika gently smiles, with a gleam of hope as she replies, ‘I’ll explain in the morning, when your friends are with us, now rest.’
Disappearing through the corridor Dorothy watches the witch’s dress trail behind, then looks to the clay man as his grey face smiles. Leering at her he opens his mouth, asking ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ as he reminds her too much of the fake fathers, the ones who’d drink too much. Shaking her head Dorothy places a hand on the heavy door as she pushes, ‘Goodnight,’ closing it on Argus as she quickly draws the bolt.
Stepping away Dorothy hears his feminine voice scratch at the door, lingering, ‘Goodnight Dorothy,’ as she moves around the room, feeling at the walls and looking behind the furniture. Tapping at the thick stones with her knuckles she feels for loose edges, looks for hidden doors, a passageway, but nothing.
There’s no way in or out of the room besides t
he heavy door and she stares, watches a small gap between the wood and the floor as she sees Argus’ shadow, standing still. Telling herself he’s there to guard her she slowly blows out the candles in the room, making her way into bed as she leaves the one beside her lit. With her eyes lingering on the shadow she lifts the bed sheets and crawls inside, not removing a single item of clothing as her head touches the pillow.
With her eyes still open she watches the door, yawning as she refuses to sleep, but feels herself slowly drifting. Thinking of Outika Dorothy knows she can’t kill such a powerful being, and finds herself torn between who to trust; a pale witch who sent her through a deadly land, or the one known through Oz as evil. The decision riddles through her mind, and she knows right now there’s no choice but to trust Outika. Despite which witch is evil the wizard is the only one in Oz who can send her home, and only the western witch can help her, either dead or alive.
Eventually falling asleep Dorothy feels a cold draft along her face as the bed sheets around her body lift from her skin. Murmuring in her slumber she dreams of the wizard, locking her in his dark castle as she sits huddled in the corner of a cell. Looking out of her prison she sees his horned form walk toward her, the bloody flesh dripping from his body as a voice crawls through her skin like a burrowed insect, ‘You’ll never leave me.’ His thin fangs glisten with saliva as he watches her hungrily, scraping his talons along her metal cell as she fights her way from the nightmare, screaming with relief as she lies still in Outika’s golden bed. With her eyes open she looks to the door, seeing nothing through the darkness as a cold sweat breaks along her skin and she closes her eyes.
Dorothy: The Darker Side of OZ v5 Page 19