The Librarian (Book Two: Unhappily Ever After) (12 page)

"But it was the Witch who cursed your axe." Taylor followed him. "What if Oz did those things for a reason? What if Oz was preparing you for the battle to come?"

"Then she picked the wrong man." Taylor stopped as the Tinman continued down the street that led out of town. "I'm sorry, but I won't lose her again. I wish I could help you. You helped me once, and I feel like I owe you. But she was there when I fell, I have to do the same for her: I have to find her."

Taylor watched him go, her mouth hanging open as she searched for any words that might give him pause. Something. Anything. Anything that might keep him from leaving them forever.

"I... I..."

Silent since the Wheelers' return, Nell suddenly yelled out after him. "Can I come?"

Taylor's stomach flipped when she saw the Tinman stop.

He looked back over his shoulder. "What, child?"

"They took my pa," Nell said. She was still holding the metal shears she'd taken from her father's shop. "That's where you're going, right? To save everyone the monkeys took? I want to come."

"Me too," the shirtless boy echoed.

"And me," another said.

Taylor watched as the children came to their feet one at a time. She could see The Tinman didn't want any of them to join him on his journey, but she knew this was her only chance to save Oz, her only chance to fix things back home.

"There's too many of them to face on your own," she told the Tinman. "You said it yourself. Let us help."

He turned to look her in the eye. "I'm staying with the Maiden when we find her."

"I know," Taylor said. "It's okay. If I can't do anything else, I want to get you back to the woman you love."

THE LIBRARIAN FOLLOWED the trail along the canyon's edge until it ended at the sagging bridge the Stanfords had used to cross. The Witch's castle was barely visible through the haze, but the old man could almost hear it taunting him, daring him to cross.

The bridge only
looks
to be eons old
, it said.
You'll be safe – until you reach the other side, that is.

He stepped onto the first wooden plank, testing its stability beneath his weight. The temperature had warmed somewhat, causing the canyon's mist to cover the bridge in a thin layer of condensation before rising to mask the castle above. Although he was careful, the librarian slipped, his foot shooting through the gap between two of the wooden planks. He recovered quickly, grabbing onto the bridge with his free hand but nearly losing his staff in the process.

The librarian sighed. "Not as young as you were the last time, old boy. You're going to need this." He tightened his grip – one hand on the staff, one on the bridge's rope banister as he pulled himself back to his feet.

He cast a nervous glance back the way he'd come and considered finding another route. But he knew this was the only way. This was the same bridge Little Douglas Stanford had taken. He would do the same. He only hoped there was some remnant of the boy he knew in the man Douglas had become. It was probably his only hope, and the fate of every known world was hanging in the balance.

"OKAY!" TAYLOR SHOUTED. "All together!
Pull!
"

The Tinman's joints whined as he heaved on a rope tied to the overturned wagon in the town's square. A dozen boys worked with him, each with ropes of his own, each red-in-the-face as they pulled.

At first, Taylor wasn't sure they would right the wagon. But it slowly rose out of the mud and once it was teetering on edge, momentum took over and the wagon fell back onto its wheels where it belonged.

Taylor applauded. "You guys rock!"

A few kids had been pulling so hard they fell backwards into the mud when the wagon finally gave way. They looked at one another and laughed, their worries briefly forgotten in their moment of success.

Wesley watched Taylor go to help them up and smiled. Even he could appreciate the moment of levity as he and Hope walked toward the general store to collect supplies.

"Wes," Hope began, "why are you letting this happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are we going with the Tinman?"

"Taylor wants to help him find the Munchkin Maiden."

"I know that much," Hope said. "Why are we listening? This whole mess started because you brought those two together. Now we're just gonna do it all over again?" She shifted gears. "We don't even know where we're going? She's gonna put these kids in danger so she can feel good about herself." She pointed to the kids in the square as Wes led her through the threshold and into the store.

"That's bull! They wanna go," Wesley said. "So would I. So would
you
." He snapped around to look at her. "And stop talking about Tay like that. You don't know her."

"But I
heard
her.
She
has to kill the Witch. Really? Since when? She's acting like you aren't even here."

"Do you have a better plan?"

"What happens if we run across someone who decides they want that pretty necklace hanging around your neck?" Hope shook her head. "I can't say much, Wesley, but the librarian has plans for you. That was more than a writing contest you won."

"What do you mean?"

"Just know, he gave you that amulet because he thought you would protect it. But the longer we're here playing Kumbaya – it's at risk."

Wesley looked down at the metal bookmark that was draped over his chest then tucked it beneath his shirt.

"Tay always knows the right thing to do," he said quietly.

"Says who?
Tay?
" Hope ducked behind the store's counter and found a wicker basket to fill with food. "I've known girls like Taylor, Wes. I like her – really, I do – but she wants all the glory." She started down one of the aisles. "You're here to save Oz, Taylor's here to play hero."

Wesley watched her leave, shaking his head in frustration when she dipped around the corner.

He moved his gaze to the window, watching Taylor with the others. The kids were laughing – smiling and playing in the street like they didn't have a care in the world.

Initially, Wes thought Taylor was only working to ease their mood. They'd been through so much. But then, a young boy in the group patted Taylor on the back and it was
her
smile that grew. Another boy wrapped his arms around her. Taylor threw her head back and laughed. It was loud and boisterous. Wesley'd never heard that laugh come out of Taylor's mouth before.

He looked down the aisle after Hope and frowned. He didn't know if Taylor was out for all the glory like Hope said, but she was definitely getting it.

THERE WAS NO way to sneak up on the Witch's castle once atop the stone staircase, nothing to hide behind that might allow for a stealth approach, so the librarian disguised himself as best he could. He walked with a hunch, dragging one leg and leaning on his staff as a feeble old man might rely on his cane. This time, there were ten guards outside the castle's gate, all of them ordered to be on high alert.

"Get back!" one of them yelled, stepping forward.

"Oh!" the librarian called. "Don't worry your pretty, little heads about me." He made sure his speech was labored, just another piece of the persona he was hiding behind. "I'm only here to pitch my wares. I'll be on my way, but I have a great many deals for you and your men."

"Does this look like a market to you? Go on! Git!" The guard pushed him away. The librarian needed his staff to stay on his feet.

"But I have something for everyone! Even you," the librarian insisted. He began to shuffle through his satchel. "Look here! You'll see!"

The guard looked back at the others and shrugged with amusement. When he turned to face the old man once more he saw that the librarian had removed a glass bottle with an orange liquid sloshing around inside.

"See? Rub this on your joints, and they'll never ache."

This earned the attention of a few more guards. They stepped forward, one of them cracking his neck to suggest he had use for what the peculiar man was peddling.

The librarian dropped the bottle into his satchel and removed a purple pouch tied with golden ribbon. "Mix this powder in your drink and you'll have the strength of ten men the next time you ride into battle."

"Hey," one of the men said. "We could use that!"

The librarian watched with satisfaction as they drew in. The guards were standing in a circle around him now, each waiting to hear more about the magic in the old man's bag.

"And this?" He drew his hand from the satchel one last time. This time there was no bottle or pouch, only a pile of grey powder sitting in the palm of his hand. "This one will make you wish you had never sided with a creature as villainous as the Wicked Witch of the West."

The guards exchanged a confused look.

"Huh?"

"What do you—"

The librarian blew the powder from his palm into the closest guard's face. The guard screamed, jabbing fat fingers into his eyes in a desperate attempt to get the powder out.

The librarian tossed the remaining powder to the ground. Then, just as the guards were fumbling to pull swords from their scabbards, the librarian slammed the end of his staff into the earth. "Fumus!"

The yellow stone atop his staff began to glow as the command echoed through the canyon below. Now armed, the guards looked down as the grey powder at their feet turned to a black cloud of smoke.

"Witch!" someone hollered. "Witch!"

The cloud enveloped them in an instant.

They were fighting blind.

"Fulgar!" The librarian's command lit the cloud with yellow lightning and several guards fell to the ground, crying in pain.

The old man used his staff to disarm an attacking guard then swung it in a wide arc that cracked another across his jaw as he backed out of the cloud. "Conturbo!"

He turned and started for the castle. Behind him, still blinded by smoke, the remaining guards fought only each other.

"He's there!" one yelled.

"Grab him! Grab him!"

"That's me, you idiot!"

The guards were swinging their swords and reaching for shadows, completely unaware that the librarian had slipped away and was now charging for the—

An arrow cut through the air, whistling past the librarian's head. Never slowing, he looked up, searching for the arrow's origin. There was an archer in the castle's watchtower, and he was already pulling a second arrow from his quiver.

The old man pushed forward, desperate to reach the gate before the guard above had a chance to take aim. He stomped across the drawbridge, stretching his legs in long strides until—

The second arrow didn't miss. It caught the librarian in his shoulder, spinning him like a top before he fell to the ground in a heap of old bones just outside the castle's entry. He'd been so close that when his blood spilled, most of it flowed in a stream down the path and puddled on the tile just inside the castle's gate.

THEY LEFT SHORTLY after sun-up, the village children piling into the buggy after loading it with food and supplies from the town's store. Wesley and Hope joined them in the back while Taylor sat in silence with the Tinman as he guided the horse from the wagon's rumble seat.

The roads were treacherous. On more than one occasion, everyone had to climb out of the wagon to tighten a wobbly wheel or to fix a broken axle or because they had sunk so deeply into the mud that the horse needed help pulling the wagon out.

Even when the riding was smooth, it wasn't. The wagon's bumpy ride and rigid seats were a terrible combination. While the kids from the village seemed fine, Taylor thought the trip would beat her to death. The sun was setting, but it felt like they'd been on the trail for days. Time seemed to have a life of its own in Oz. There were times when the hours seemed to crawl by, but just as often, they would sprint past them in a flash. Tay actually had no idea how much time had passed since their return. The sun had risen twice and fallen for a third time, but that made little sense. They hadn't slept since stepping through the library's portal and had eaten little. They would never have lasted three days without rest and food in the real world. Surely, they couldn't in Oz either.
Could they?

THEY RODE THROUGH the night.

SEVERAL HOURS AFTER the moon had risen, the Tinman stopped the wagon. Their path was blocked by a number of tall trees that had been uprooted by some unseen force.

He and Taylor climbed out of the wagon to investigate and saw someone had cut a path through the forest that intersected their own. Trees were trashed and tossed to the wayside for as far as they could see in both directions.

The trees that had survived the assault, wept.
 

"What happened?" Taylor asked, directing her question to a crying tree still standing near the road. "Who did this?" She wasn't sure why, but Taylor was convinced the wispy willow tree was a female.
 

"Those awful Gnomes," the willow said between sobs. "They did this. My poor girls. Look at them." She gestured toward the fallen trees with one of her delicate branches. "I suppose they couldn't be bothered to circle
around
our forest with that dreadful machine. No! They had to cut a path right
through
us."

"What machine?" the Tinman asked.

"I don't know what it is," the willow said angrily. "How can you expect me to understand such evil? What is going on out there? Please, you must tell us. We've heard such terrible things. Have the end days come?"

Taylor let her head hang as the Tinman answered.

"I wish I knew, ma'am."

The tree tried to contain herself. "You might as well cut me down, woodchopper. Without my girls, I... I..."

She began to cry again. Taylor and the Tinman offered a few words of consolation then climbed back into the wagon and turned to go the other way.