Shadows of the Emerald City (44 page)

“
Any last words?” The guard who had placed her head in the noose said calmly.

She tried to think of something eternal but couldn’t think of anything. Nothing could sum up the hatred she felt for every soul that occupied the Common. Instead she glared towards the soldier in stubborn silence.

He stepped away. All three soldiers did. They moved back with their Prince.

Gathering the saliva in her mouth, Oddlaug spit on the platform with a hiss from the crowd.

Where was her friend? The one who had granted her the note and shoes? Wouldn’t they come to save her? Her eyes scanned the numerous faces for one that might give her a hint to her only friend.

Perhaps they couldn’t save her without their own deaths being penalty.

Without warning, the contraption beneath her feet slipped out from beneath her.

It was so quick and unexpected Oddlaug started a scream that was quickly silenced. The rope snapped taut and she felt the pain against her throat, but to her horror the fall didn’t break her neck. Every muscle screamed as her head snapped upwards with the hanging rope. The frays dug into the tender flesh of her neck.

Kicking her feet frantically, her eyes bulged as the air was restricted. Her mouth opened for useless breaths and she twisted violently, desperate for air.

Her lungs burned. Her vision spotted with dark dots.

Kicking again, her shoes clinked together. She couldn’t hear it over the cheers but felt it and thought one last time of her vengeance.
They will pay for this injustice
. To die because she was given shoes was a disputable charge in which she would have no jury.

She secretly wished for their heads to explode. Especially the ones in the front row that jeered the loudest.

Wet chunks of warm meat splattered her face long before she was able to consider what had just happened. Blinking away the blood, she gapped at the headless Munchkins. Blood had sprayed the crowd too.

The heads of the goblins were gone. At least thirteen of them. Suddenly screams replaced the cheers and the crowd began to run.

Red jelly mixed with bits of bone and brain slopped off the edge of the stage to Oddlaug’s stunned fascination. Was she dead already? Was this pain part of death? She stared at the haunted expressions within the crowd and realized the impossible. She had done it.

Hadn’t she?

Choking for air, she focused on a group of Munchkins all clutching together and staring at her wide-eyed. She kicked her feet. She inwardly wished for the group of Munchkins to bleed out.

Their screams were different from those around them. Pain etched their voices, the group of Munchkins collapsed to their knees. Blood ran from their eye sockets like tears, dripping to the stone ground. Blood gurgled from one of their mouths. He convulsed, dropping to his side and clutching his stomach. With a heave he vomited not only his food but puddles of crimson chunks.

The horror and pleasure that she felt at seeing their noses bursting with blood and their bodies twitching painfully was exhilarating.

The rope
, she thought.
I need air
. Her hands scratched at the rope uselessly, it was too tight and she was far too weak from years of being locked in a cell. She’d never be able to lift herself out of it.

Nothing was happening and she was running out of time. Kicking again, her shoes clinked together and she dropped to the stone covered ground beneath the stage like a discarded doll.

Her legs screamed on contact. Her fingers snagged the rope and loosened it around her throat. Gasping in the first breath was painful. Her lungs protested at first. She ripped the noose from around her head and tossed it aside. She took another ragged breath. Ducking out from beneath the stage she felt emotions from the crowd wash over her. Fear swelled through the crowd. They pushed through their own kind, trampling the smaller ones beneath their feet just to get away.

Standing to her full height in front of the stage she bathed in the revenge. It was far sweeter than she could have ever imagined.

But, it wasn’t complete just yet.

“
You!” She pointed a gnarled finger towards Quelala, who stood frozen with a single remaining soldier.

Quelala froze, unable to run amongst the Munchkin followers.

“
Your own people, these goblins who love you so, should grant you your death.”

Quelala turned towards the scattered faces, the few that remained in listening distance stared at their king helplessly, though none approached him to do Oddlaug’s bidding.

Oddlaug tried again and wished her suggestion; squeezing her eyes shut she wished it as hard as she could.

Opening one eye, Quelala was still standing before her, untouched and confused. The soldier before him realized the mistake first and drew his sword, pointing it towards her threateningly.

Everyone was distracted as a swooping figure far larger than that of a bird shot down from the sky. It hovered over the small group.

Oddlaugh stumbled backwards in surprise. It was the notorious Wicked Witch of the West. She wore her thinning dark hair in three pig tails all around her head. She had aged from the stories that Oddlaug had been accustomed to but otherwise she knew it was her. Only witches or sorcerers could ride broomsticks. The Wicked Witch of the West was drowned in black but her robes were lined with a white trim. Oddlaug noticed that the Wicked Witch of the West gripped a second broom in one of her hands while balancing on her own.

The Wicked Witch of the West smiled triumphantly at them all, her eyes lingering on Oddlaug.

“
Kill him!
” she shrieked.

The goblins nearest to Prince Quelala paled as they stared at the Wicked Witch of the West. Then they trudged towards their Prince. Their expressions were blank and their movements numbingly mechanical.

The Prince gasped in a breath, retreating to the top of the stage. His eyes snapped towards Oddlaug uncertainly.

“
The shoes—
where did you get them?
” He shouted.

“
From
me
, foolish man!” The Wicked Witch of the West cackled. “I cannot wear them because of your decree, isn’t that right?”

Oddlaug gaped.

“
What decree?” She demanded.

Quelala’s eyes shifted between the two women uncertainly.

“
Back!
” the soldier who guarded the Prince shouted. The soldier thrust his sword towards the Wicked Witch of the West.

Oddlaug screamed a warning, but it was too late, the blade was long enough and the soldier quick enough. The tip of his silver sword gouged into with Wicked Witches right eye, creating a shallow, excruciating wound.

Screaming hideously, the Witch cleared the Common save for the few sourly slow paced goblins that plodded up the stairs to the stage. The Witch shot backwards out of reach before any more damage could be done. Clutching a palm over her wounded eye she thrust the broomstick in her hand down towards Oddlaug.

Oddlaug fumbled but caught the broomstick in both her hands and clutched it close to her chest.

Blood trickled down the Wicked Witch of the West’s face, but her good eye was able to locate the offending soldier.

“
You should be thrown out in the desert!” he shouted, his voice brave and terrified at once.

With a chuckle the Witch nodded her head towards the gallows. The unused noose on the platform whipped outward and flung itself around his throat. He bit his tongue and blood trickled out the side of his mouth. The rope dragged him violently backward. Balancing over the trap door, the rope became tight again and the trap door released, dropping him instantly.

Oddlaug ducked her head to see the hanging man grow still. The only man to have ever injured the Wicked Witch of the West was now dead.

There was shouting from where the Prince stood,causing Oddlaug to peek over the stage. Munchkins had wrenched Quelala down to his knees.

“
Get on the broom!” The Wicked Witch of the West ordered. Oddlaug was quick to respond.

She didn’t want to incur the anger of this woman anymore than anyone else. She straddled the broomstick and awaited further instructions.

“
Click your heels together and you will fly,” the Witch snapped. She seemed frustrated with Oddlaug’s awe-struck expression.

Oddlaug clicked the sliver shoes together and suddenly understood how she was able to free herself from the gallows at last.

She took to the air. She felt light as a feather, as if the wind itself was carrying her. She rose to the same height as the Wicked Witch of the West and watched as Quelala emitted unearthly shouts towards the goblins. His own people were beating him with their fists. They stabbed him with hunting knives and whatever they could find in their pockets.

Her sister, Gayelette would be furious when she found out.

An unusual cry from the distance alerted both flying women to the skies behind them. The flying monkeys were approaching. They came at the call of their Master, Prince Quelala, who still held the Golden Cap upon his head.

“
Kill him faster!” The Wicked Witch of the West commanded the goblins.

One swift blow to his temple, and the Prince Quelala fell silent.

The Wicked Witch of the West darted down on her broom and with her free hand she scooped up the Golden Cap from the dead man’s skull. Placing it on her own head, the monkeys paused in the air before retreating back to where they had been called. “Now they are under my control,” the Wicked Witch of the West purred smugly.

The Wicked Witch of the West turned her good eye to Oddlaug.

“
Follow me.”

Casting one last gaze down towards the streets she could smell their fear. She could see the glassy gaze of Quelala staring up at her. She stared back for a long moment, pondering what her sister would think up for her own revenge.

Sighing, Oddlaug took to the skies with her friend. Her friend had given her the shoes that had freed her from the confines of the dungeon, from her beautiful sister and the fiendish goblins.

Pausing in the air far above the Ruby Kingdom, the Wicked Witch of the West flashed a brilliant smile towards Oddlaug.

“
You have questions?”

“
What of Gayelette? She will come after us.”

The Wicked Witch of the West clucked her tongue as if it were nonsense.

“
Gayelette disappears on the day you are released from the dungeon for a reason. Did you not think that perhaps a sorceress can see into the future now and then?”

Stricken, Oddlaug tried to recover as swiftly as possible.

“
Where did she go?”

“
North, I think. This is yours now,” the Wicked Witch of the West gestured towards the Commons with a pleasant imitation of a smile.

All of this land would be hers! Her revenge on all the Munchkins could happen now that she had the shoes.

“
Why didn’t
you
wear the shoes?” Oddlaug said, her eyes drawn to the shimmering silver at her feet.

“
I cannot, I have been forbidden. Years ago, Gayelette found out about the powers of the silver shoes so she had a spell worked that no witch, good or wicked could wear them. The fear being that their power could take over
all
the witches. But you hadn’t been dubbed a witch till today.
You had the shoes on yesterday when you were still part mortal
, therefore the spell is now broken and they are yours.”

“
Today?”

“
Yes, yes. You think killing all those Munchkins was a thing of Good? You’ve crossed over, with me. Things won’t be as lonely anymore.”

“
You were the only wicked witch?”

“
Yes, of the West and for a long time the balance between good and wicked had been upset. But, now that you’ve been recognized, it is even once again. Two good and two wicked now. You shall be known of the Wicked Witch of the East from this day forth. No other name will suffice.”

“
Oh,” Oddlaug choked on the shock. Then she mulled the idea over in her head. A smile crept up on her face.

She was free.

Not
only
that, but free to do what she wanted. Her will was her own. Squealing in delight, she flung her arms in the air triumphantly.

“
Eeeeeeeeee!
”

“
Careful with those!” The Wicked Witch of the West hissed as her new sister tapped the toes together experimentally. “Whatever is your deepest desire in the Land of Oz , the shoes will reciprocate.”

The Wicked Witch of the East’s eyes widened.

“
My deepest desire?” She breathed the words out loud, feeling euphoric as the possibilities streamed through her mind. They bumped together in a jumbled mess. “Anything I want?” Her pale purple eye wandered from the sky to the Western Witch.

“
Anything you want
,” The Wicked Witch of the West confirmed with a curt nod. “All you have to do is tap your heels together and wish.”

The Wicked Witch of the East shrieked a laugh and twirled around in delight.

“
Then I want a yellow brick road.” She tapped her heels together, hearing the silver click against each other sharply.