She laughed her musical laugh again, and I realized she could read my thoughts.
“You mean the Nome King,” I said, suddenly able to speak again. She nodded.
“I do. Even I cannot entirely guess at the game he plays, but I know he wishes to use you and Dorothy as its pieces. And very likely Ozma, too. I’m afraid your work in Oz is not yet done. I can see the pain in your heart, child, and I am sorry to ask more of you. So much rests on your shoulders. Especially when not all of your companions wish the same healing for Oz that you do.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “I cannot see that far; only that you must be careful. Trust in yourself, but do not place your trust easily in others. You are very strong, Amy—strong enough to defeat Dorothy, possibly strong enough to defeat even the Nome King. But not in the way that you think. The most obvious way is not always the right path.”
She was making about as much sense as Ozma. I wondered if anyone in Oz had ever given any question a straight answer. She put a hand on my shoulder.
“I know this is difficult for you,” she said. “You have suffered much, already, and you still have not learned to know yourself. Dorothy is blinded by her own pain and anger. Take care that you do not walk down the road that she has chosen. I cannot promise you a future without harm, but know that I am watching over you. You have drunk of my spring, and that is no small trifle. And you have my shoes.” She gestured at the diamond-studded boots with one elegant hand.
“Your shoes?” I gasped. “But I thought they belonged to Dorothy.”
She smiled. “Dorothy had them for a while, yes. But they belong to the fairies. They are made from our magic. They will serve you well if you trust in their power.”
I had so many questions. But she shook her head and held a finger to her lips. “All in good time,” she said. “The way is cloudy now, but soon I think we will be able to see the path again.”
She reached up to her neck and undid a thin silver chain, drawing a pendant out of her dress and handing it to me. “This, too, you will find useful,” she said.
I looked at the necklace. The pendant was a pale golden jewel, made of the same material as the road. The harder I looked at it, the more I thought I could see movement in its translucent depths, as if it were filling with smoke. I felt as though I were falling down a long, golden tunnel.
“Be careful,” Lurline said at my side, and I snapped back to the present. I made as if to fasten the necklace around my neck, and she shook her head. “It is not for you, but for another. You will know when the time is right to put it into the proper hands.”
I tucked the necklace into my pocket instead. Lurline stood up and held out her hands to me. “And now I must send you home, dear child.”
“To Dorothy,” I said, standing up.
“To Dorothy,” she agreed. “But to many brighter and wonderful things as well. To the living, breathing world. To a boy who loves you, if I am not mistaken.” I turned bright red and she giggled. But then a look of longing flashed across her face. “There is a part of me that envies you, to be returning to the living, breathing world. Think of me when you go into the mountains,” she said softly, her gaze far away. “When you look out over the blue valleys to the far horizon, say my name that I might see them, too, through your eyes. And remember as in all of us, it is only your capacity for wickedness that makes selflessness possible.”
“But you still haven’t told me how to defeat Dorothy.”
“Dorothy is connected to you, Amy. To find that answer, you must look within yourself.”
I almost rolled my eyes, and then I remembered Lurline could read my thoughts.
She smiled again. “I have faith in you, Amy. You have done well. I will help you as much as I can. I will hear you when you call me. Be strong. There is more power aiding you than you know.”
She let go of my hands, and the world around me began to fade. As if I was switching between TV stations, Lurline’s world tuned out and Oz tuned back in. Nox’s outline, shadowy at first, solidified. There was a roaring noise in my ears that I soon realized was Dorothy’s storm. I was dripping wet. And Dorothy, still glowing with that terrifying red light and hovering off the ground with her arms outstretched, was screaming into the howling wind.
THIRTY-THREE
I could still see Dusty Acres through the swirling clouds; Dorothy’s magic was tearing up the earth as giant cracks spread across the landscape. A huge strip of ground peeled up and was sucked up into the maelstrom.
Nox was trying to distract her with fireball after fireball to no effect. “Welcome back,” he said grimly, dropping his hands in exhaustion. Another chunk of earth flew up through the rent in the floor and hit the ceiling of the cave with a thud, showering us with dirt and rocks. Dorothy cackled in delight. I grabbed Nox’s hand, calling on the power of my silver boots. Nox caught on immediately, slowly feeding his magic into mine. I leaned into our combined strength and opened myself up, deciding to just let the magic of the shoes flow through me.
I could somehow see through the dark water of Lurline’s pool to the other side, where Lurline waited. I could see the clock, suspended between Oz and her world, drawing her magic into itself and funneling it to Dorothy. I could see Kansas as Dorothy tore it apart. I could see Lulu, back at the Woodman’s palace, holding Ozma’s hand as they walked through the ruined gardens. Melindra, digging a grave for Annabel as tears rolled down her face. I could see my mom, holding Jake’s hand and crying. I could see Mombi, Gert, and Glamora, fighting desperately outside the Emerald Palace. Mombi was badly wounded, and Gert was pale with exhaustion. I knew instinctively that they couldn’t hold out for much longer. I could see the end of everything I cared about, everyone I loved.
And I could see Dorothy, connected to the clock with a thick line of magic that fed her more and more power, like a leech bloated on the blood of its unsuspecting victim. She was pulling all the magic out of Oz and into her own body. But it was too much for her. She hung suspended in the current, her skin beginning to smoke and blacken, her eyes wide in pain and fear, the red heels pulsing with awful red light. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, magic pouring out in a torrent of sparks. Any second now the power of Oz would tear her—and us—apart.
You know what to do. This time it was Lurline’s voice instead of the Nome King’s that I heard inside my head. And I did—I did know what to do.
Nox and I reached forward, moving as though our two bodies were combined into one. I felt Lurline’s magic surging through us, giving us strength. We took hold of the cord binding Dorothy to the Great Clock and I staggered backward as the full force of Oz’s magic lashed out at me. It was like trying to hold on to a lightning bolt. The diamonds on my boots glowed white-hot, anchoring me to the stone floor.
NOW, Lurline shouted, her voice echoing through my head and ringing out across the cavern. With all the strength we had, Nox and I yanked backward. The cord of magic snapped loose from Dorothy’s body, whipping around the cave. The clock pulsed with emerald-green light. And then, as if it could no longer contain its own power, it exploded into a shower of glittering fragments.
The shock wave rocked the cavern and sent Nox and me crashing to the floor. The window to Kansas shut with the sound of a thousand doors slamming. Dorothy fell to the ground with a sick thud and lay there unmoving.
“Now!” Nox gasped, doubled over in pain. “Do it now!” Without thinking, I reached for my knife and immediately felt its reassuring solidity in my hand. I sprinted past the pool to where Dorothy had fallen. Her body looked as though she’d been burned alive. Her flesh was charred and smoking. Her hair had been seared away on one side of her head and her eye had melted in its socket, running down the bubbling, raw meat of her cheek. I almost gagged.