The End of Oz
Page 26

I felt like I had a dozen different strands of varying textures and lengths, and I was almost ready to braid them together—but threads were still slipping through my fingers. There was something important I was missing. Something about how all of this tied together. Something that Lurline had hinted at.
The thing that bound me to Dorothy and turned orphaned kids like Nox—and, presumably, Lang—into battle-scarred warriors. If I could just undo the tangle and weave the threads together . . . but for now, the knot was too dense for me to unravel.
And, I realized, I didn’t just want to defeat Dorothy because it was my mission. I wanted to defeat her because I wanted to stay alive. I wanted to see my mom again. I wanted to have a chance at a real life with Nox—a relationship that wasn’t constantly thrown into turmoil by war and intrigue. I wanted to make sure that Madison got home safely to her family and her kid. I had responsibilities that were bigger than me. Bigger than the Order and what they wanted for me. I had family. I had friends.
The dragon boat slowed down and I stopped thinking. For now, we just had to stay alive. I could figure out the next step when we were safe.
As safe as you could get in Ev, anyway. Which didn’t seem very safe at all.
“My lady, we’re here,” the captain said, several of his mouths speaking at once. His eerie, rustling voices broke the silence.
“Good,” Lang said, her voice flat and distant. “You know the way in. Take us home.”
The dragon boat stilled in the fast-moving water, its legs moving powerfully against the current to hold us in place. The captain held up long, segmented limbs and began to chant in a low, haunting singsong. Each of his mouths shaped different words and different melodies, the individual songs weaving together into a tapestry of sound that sent a chill down my spine. The music was full of pain and longing and somehow, even though I didn’t understand any of the words, I knew all of them were sad.
Was there anything in Ev that wasn’t about heartbreak and loss?
As the boatman continued his song, a fissure appeared in the rock face in front of us. Slowly the boat moved toward it as the chant increased in intensity. The fissure widened just enough for us to slip through, and then the rock slammed closed behind us and the boatman’s song trailed off into the sudden silence.
The darkness was so intense it seemed almost alive. Suddenly I could feel the tons of rock above us, the distance between us and the open sky. I swallowed hard, trying to ease the suffocating feeling that was taking over me. Breathe, I told myself firmly. Just breathe. The ceiling isn’t collapsing. The stone isn’t moving. You’re fine.
“It takes some getting used to,” Lang said in the darkness beside me. I jumped. She sounded almost sympathetic.
There was a crack and a hiss, and then the boatman was lighting a lantern with a match. The light barely made a dent in the smothering darkness around us, but at least I could see something now. We were in a low, narrow tunnel, the rock just inches over our heads. The boat’s wings were furled tightly to its sides now, and its head was lowered close to the water to avoid brushing the tunnel roof.
“I think I liked it better when it was dark,” Madison said. Even in this dim light I could see that she was pale.
“I hated it at first, too,” Lang said as the boat moved forward again. “It’s funny how much a person can change. Now, when I go aboveground I feel naked. It’d take years up there to get used to it again.”
Nox was looking a little pale, too. I reached over and squeezed his hand, and he gave me a brief, grateful glance. Lang saw the touch and frowned, looking away again.
“We’re almost there,” she said. “Just a few more minutes.”
“What was that song?” I asked the boatman, but he didn’t respond.
“He only speaks to me,” Lang said. “It’s a spell that all my servants know; it can only be sung by a single person with many voices. It’s the only way to get to the place I’m taking you.”
“Why’d you set the magic up that way?” Madison asked. Lang was silent and Nox answered her.
“So no one can torture it out of her,” he said. “I’m guessing her servants don’t feel pain.”
After that, none of us felt like talking for a while.
Finally, the tunnel opened up into a larger cavern where the water formed a broad, flat lake that was big enough that the lantern light didn’t reach to its shore. I felt my spirits lift as the ceiling did, as if the rock itself had been oppressing us. The dragon boat sped up, probably sensing it was nearly at the end of its journey, and soon the lamplight fell on a narrow, pebbled beach. Lang kicked off her shoes. In one smooth motion, she swung herself over the boat’s side and into the water, wading toward shore.
“I guess we follow,” Nox said under his breath.
I climbed out of the boat as Nox offered Madison a hand. She waved it away. The pitch-black water was almost hip-deep, and freezing cold. I splashed my way toward the beach and something very large and very scaly slithered past my calves. Panic flooded through me and I half ran, half sloshed toward the shore. Madison made an awful noise behind me and I knew that she’d just encountered whatever it was that had passed me.
“They’re harmless!” Lang called from the beach. I didn’t stay in the water long enough to find out whether or not she was telling the truth, and Nox and Madison were right behind me.
“You can change,” Lang said, indicating our soaked clothes with a jerk of her head. She’d unearthed a waterproofed leather bag of supplies from somewhere and was pulling on tight black leather leggings, a loose shirt, and boots. With her dark hair pulled back from her face in a high ponytail, she looked like a cross between a rocker and an aerobics instructor.
I rummaged through the bag, choosing a similar outfit. My shoes had stayed miraculously dry despite the slog to shore; apparently magic boots were water-resistant. Who knew. Nox changed with his back to us, his lean muscles rippling as he pulled on a clean shirt.
“You’re staring,” Madison said, elbowing me in the ribs.
“I am not,” I said, blushing.
“Mmm-hmm,” she said, and rolled her eyes.
Behind us, the dragon boat was paddling away, steered by its strange captain. Lang lit another lantern, its flickering amber light playing over the rocky beach and sending looming, sinister shadows ahead of us.
“Come on,” she said. “You can rest for a few hours before we figure out what to do next. I have enough alarm spells set up to wake the dead, but we shouldn’t need them for a while. No one but me knows this place exists.”
Rest. Just the word sent a flood of longing through me. When was the last time I’d really been able to rest?
I thought of the little bedroom my mom had set up for me in Kansas while she waited for me to come home, even though everything pointed to the fact that I was dead. How she’d refused to give up on me, gotten sober in case I came back, finally started dating someone who wasn’t a greaseball or a loser. I plodded after Lang’s wobbly beacon, across the stone beach and into yet another tunnel. This one was more rough-hewn than anything in her palace. Thankfully, it also didn’t sport the Headless Horseman–themed decor. There were fewer branches and turnings; it was as if Lang was leading us deep into the heart of the earth itself. We were silent, our breath echoing in the dimly lit, narrow tunnel.