Dorothy Must Die
Page 57

“What’s he doing?” I asked in horror, gripping Nox’s arm.
“The Lion eats the fear of others,” Nox explained in a whisper. “It’s how he survives. How he gets stronger.”
As if proving Nox’s point, the Lion’s muscles rippled and bulged. He was changing. He was growing.
The man was changing, too—his beard went from purple to gray in a matter of seconds. His rounded cheeks turned gaunt as the Lion finished and dropped him to the ground. The mayor gasped for air, suddenly old and frail, but smiling, too. I realized I understood why. He wasn’t scared anymore.
“Hopefully you won’t ever have to face him,” Nox said. “But if you do, try not to be afraid.”
Not exactly possible, I thought, looking at the smiling old mayor.
“What will happen to the mayor now? Will they let them go?”
Nox just shook his head sadly.
As we watched, a hyena and a giant rabbit, who was probably as tall as I was, grabbed another victim from the line and led him forward to their leader. The rabbit seemed to be the Lion’s second in command. He was on his hind legs just like the Lion. He had sharp buckteeth and giant, watery, bloodshot eyes. The hyena, also walking on two legs, was every bit as creepy. He looked nervous, jumping at every sound in the woods around him while he assisted the rabbit. And there were a lot of sounds to react to with a zoo of animals behind them.
“We have to stop them,” I whispered to Nox.
He shook his head. “Not alone. I’ll call Mombi. There’s no way to do it without blowing our cover though, so be ready.” I took a deep breath and prepared myself as he conjured another ball of light from his hand and sent the flare spinning out into the darkness. This was it.
The orb went whizzing into the trees, and as it did, a wolf lurking on the edge of the crowd pricked up his ears, jerked his head up, and let out a howl, his quick eyes darting from the ball of light straight over to its source.
That source being me and Nox.
The Lion looked up from his second victim, trying to find the cause of the commotion. With a wave of his arm, he released his beasts like a violent tide that came right toward us. I had seen a few members of the Tin Woodman’s guard. They were eerily organized and obedient. But the Lion’s army was different—they were wild and disorganized, each one of them operating on its own.
The wolf sped ahead of the pack in a gallop. Nox stepped forward and, in one swift motion, pulled out the sword he’d had strapped to his back, meeting the wolf with a gut-opening slice.
And then we were surrounded. Nox ducked and feinted and swung, flames trailing behind him, but every enemy he sent flailing to the ground was replaced by another.
I couldn’t help Nox, and Nox couldn’t help me. A group of winged monkeys had descended from unseen perches in the trees and were now spinning around me like furry little gymnasts, clawing and snapping with pointy little fangs. They were quicker than I was; even when I used my magic to dodge out of their way they seemed to know my movements before I knew them myself.
Don’t be afraid, I reminded myself. I lunged, pulling my knife through the air, trying to be fearless.
One was bigger than the rest, and more vicious-looking, too. He flew right for me, claws outstretched.
I raised my knife, ready to fight, but then I hesitated, remembering what Indigo and Ollie had told me: that the winged monkeys were under Dorothy’s control. No matter how horrible they seemed now, they weren’t attacking me because they wanted to. They were doing it because they had to.
My split second of sympathy cost me. The monkey wrapped his hands around my neck and his legs around my waist. He was stronger than he looked, and I struggled to disentangle myself as he squeezed my throat tighter and tighter, chattering maniacally, his rancid sour-milk breath hot against my cheeks. I gasped for air, feeling myself grow dizzy.
Nox got to the monkey just in time, wrenching him from me just as I was about to pass out. He snapped the monkey’s neck before tossing him to the ground.
“Why did you do that?” I cried. “If you clip their wings they won’t be enchanted. They won’t serve Dorothy.”
Nox looked at me like I was insane. “Amy,” he said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, this is a war. Now’s not the time to start worrying about the plight of the poor monkeys.”
I looked at the dead monkey on the ground, its wings now folded over him like a pathetic blanket. There wasn’t time to dwell on it, though. The rest of the monkeys had closed in on us. We were surrounded. But I pulled out my knife, hoping I could defend myself with as little collateral damage as possible.
I wielded my blade almost instinctively as the next monkey sprung at me, striking him in the chest. He screamed, collapsing. I couldn’t tell if he was dead. I hoped not, but there was no way to find out: another one was on me already.
This one got close enough to swipe at my stomach before I managed to take him down. He slid to the ground in a heap of fur and feathers. They kept on coming, but Nox and I were a good team: we made quick work of them. Some writhed in pain, others seemed to give up immediately, almost like death was a relief.
As the bodies piled up around us, I realized Nox was right. It was them or us.
I looked up to find another wave of beasts descending on us—this time a group of giant crocodiles lumbering toward us with swords and spears. I remembered the bumpy shadows in the scrying pond, lurking behind the Lion. They were even worse in the light: slimy green skin. Triple rows of teeth exposed and ready. They were slower than the monkeys, but more massive. I didn’t know how my knife could penetrate their thick reptilian skin.