Once Upon a Quest Read online

  A rotund woman approached me with a wide smile and ruddy, smooth cheeks that swallowed up her eyes as she grinned. Her long red hair was pushed back from her chubby face by a bandanna and lay in several messy braids down her back.

  “Hello, my dear. Try not to move too quickly. Are you thirsty?”

  I nodded, reaching up to hold my head as the room spun.

  “I—I was going to….” I pressed my eyes closed as my pulse pounded between them. “Um….” My memory failed me.

  “It’s all right, dear. You’re healing, but I’m not a miracle worker.” She winked. “Here, drink some of this draught I made for you. It’ll snap you out of your fog.”

  “Okay.” I took the cup she offered and inhaled the sweet cranberry aroma. I hoped it tasted like juice. Still, anything was better than the sandpaper I was rubbing with my tongue. To my relief, it was delicious, and I emptied the cup in a couple of swallows.

  The woman was terribly round yet tiny, as though someone had shrunken her from a normal woman to one-third the size. Everything around me was tiny, custom made for small people. My feet hung beyond the edge of the bed, propped up on a makeshift extension made of footstools and blankets.

  “Um, ma’am?” I called out. “Would you happen to know where I am?”

  “Why, yes, my dear. You’re in Minkin Village. It’s not fancy or anything, but we’re still rebuilding after the end of all things happened.”

  “Huh?” Confused, I swung my legs over the edge of the tiny bed, nearly hitting my head on a shelf above me. Where were my shoes? At least I was still dressed in my ripped jeans and hoodie. My wounds were healing well and scabbed over. I scratched at my arms.

  The woman returned. “Oh my, you’re still so confused. You look like her, you know. She was such a beauty.”

  I wrinkled my nose and eyed her. “Who exactly are you talking about?”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “Why, Dorothy, of course. You’re her granddaughter, right?”

  “My grandmother? She died when I was younger.”

  I thought back on my relatives, who I knew very little of. My mother had died when I was fifteen, my grandmother when I was ten. I was named after her, but no one ever called me Dorothy.

  “Well, that’s a mighty shame,” she said.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Oh, shoddy, I’m so sorry dear. I totally forgot to tell you, didn’t I? It’s Mally Gohdrom. Now, the young men who carried you here, those were Brutus, Farrim, and Uniu. They happen to be near you as they hopped along to their daily chores. You’re lucky. You were this close to the Gatchum Bog. Things live there that’ll snatch you up for a snack. We’ve hunted them down, but there’re still some elusive ones out there that might find you quite delectable.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face.

  “And the wooden scarecrow man… S.C. Is he here too?”

  “Oh, that old enchanted pile of sticks? He’s slumped over by the lettuce patch, sulking.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I pressed my fingers into my eyelids, trying to remember what I needed to do. “You wouldn’t know how to get back to Kansas, would you? I have no idea where this Minkin Village is.”

  “Kansas? That’s where Dorothy is from! Oh, dear.” Mally paused, frowning deeper than an ocean. “There’s only one way to return to Kansas from here. You need them silver shoes your Grammy had. I heard she took them with her to Kansas. Do you have them?”

  “No. There has to be some other way.”

  “Maybe if the princess was still alive, she’d be able to return you to Kansas. Or Glinda. But they both be long dead since the end of all things happened.” She whispered the last bit and shuddered at the words. What exactly had happened here?

  “Where is this village located?”

  “Why, we’re in Oz, of course. What’s left of it.”

  “Oz?” I blew out a breath, biting down on my lip. “This has to be a dream. Oz isn’t real. It’s just a story my grandmother told me when I was little. It isn’t a real place.”

  “Oh, we’re as real as it gets, my dear. Ow!” She shook her hand as some soup splashed up from the pot she was leaning over. “If we weren’t real, that certainly wouldn’t hurt. Conundrums!” She swept over to a cabinet above the kitchen counter and yanked out a jar and smeared some of its contents onto the burn. It sparkled and brightened the moment it met her skin. I watched, fascinated, as Mally sighed blissfully, no longer in pain.

  “Is that medicine?”

  “It’s a special salve made from the magical dust of the Emerald City.” I watched as the white pearly substance turned emerald green as it stopped shining and hardened like a bandage over her injury.

  “I—I need to go.” I spotted my boots sitting at the end of the bed and yanked them on. “Is there anyone who could tell me where I might find someone who can return me to Kansas?”

  Mally pressed her lips tightly, frowning at my question.

  “Well, there is one person, but that old tart doesn’t enjoy visitors and is dangerous. She lives in one of the towers still left standing in the great city. It used to be a watchtower for the Emerald City. In the city… it’s dreadful, and most say it’s haunted. That’s why Minkin don’t ever go there.”

  “What’s her name?”

  Mally shrugged. “We don’t say her name. She’s just an old hag now.”

  “Um, all right. How do I get to the Emerald City?”

  “It used to be you could follow the Yellow Brick Road, but it’s been left to ruin for decades since the—”

  “End of all things. I get it. Can I still follow it?”

  Mally frowned, appearing frightened more than anything. “It’s intact in some places. In others, it’s only stones here and there, under the grasses, bushes, and darkness.”

  “Darkness?”

  “It starts near the edge of town by the old wishing well. Right by the old ruins of Dorothy’s house. You know, the one she used to kill the Wicked Witch of the East.”

  “Okay. Thank you for helping me. I really appreciate it,” I responded, hoping I hadn’t gotten on her last nerve.

  “Wait! Take this.” She held out a sack with strings I could weave my arms through and carry like a backpack. “I took the liberty of putting some rations, water, and a jar of that salve. You might need it.”

  My mood shifted, brightening as I watched the rosiness return to her cheeks. “Thank you, Ms. Mally.”

  “Off with you. You be safe, now. That pile of sticks is waiting for you.”

  I nodded as I ran my fingers through my matted hair and headed out the door and to the end of the village, a myriad of eyes watching me.

  Emerald City, I’ll find you, even if it takes everything I’ve got.

  * * *

  I pressed a bit of lip balm onto the tender surfaces of my mouth as I approached S.C., who was exactly where Mally had said he would be: sulking at the old wishing well near the lettuce patch at the beginning of the demolished Yellow Brick Road. Weeds weaved up through the cracks in the faded paving stones.

  “You look just like her.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dorothy. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, yet her face is permanently engraved onto my brain. It’s painful to look at you and see her.”

  “Um… thanks. I remember a bit of her. What was she like when you knew her?” I asked, trying to appeal to his memories. If there was a way to get him to help me, this was it. If he’d known my grandmother, maybe she’d laid the seeds of something I could use in this place.

  “She was brilliant… and had the biggest heart I’ve ever known.”

  “So the stories are true? About a scarecrow, a cowardly lion, and a tin man?”

  He nodded and looked down at his twig hands. He peeled off a sliver sticking from the side of one of his fingers.

  “I’m not sure what you heard, but yes, our adventures did happen. I expected her to tell her family the tales of her time here. I just never expected to never
see her again. She returned, you know. For years, she came back and forth with her silver shoes until one year, she didn’t.”

  “I never found any silver shoes in the farmhouse. My Aunt Emmi lived there with me. She’s named after another aunt of my grandmother.”

  “Ah, yes, Dorothy mentioned an Aunt Em.”

  “Yeah. That was my grandmother’s aunt.”

  He turned and peered at me for what felt like the first time. Suddenly, like an illusion melting away, his button eyes transformed into rich, dark chocolate orbs with pupils. As I watched him, he stood up and turned into a real man, with smooth skin, soft hair, and undeniable life.

  “S.C.?” I asked, stepping back.

  “Well, it’s about time! The closer I get to the Emerald City, the more the magic returns to me. The farther away I walk from it, the more I turn back into a scarecrow. Something there has the power to transform me.”

  “Did Dorothy do this?” I asked.

  “Yes. And she’s the one who cursed me.” He watched me as I bounced on my feet, feeling a dread creeping into me, veiny little threads turning my blood cold.

  “No—no. My grandmother wouldn’t curse anyone like that. My mother told me she was kind, smart, and determined.”

  “I wouldn’t lie about that. She didn’t mean to, of course. But she made me real, and when she didn’t return to Oz, the magic faded, cursing me to my old self.”

  “How could her not returning do that?”

  “Somehow, her living in Oz kept it alive. It tied itself to her in ways no one can comprehend. When she failed to return, Oz lost its light; its life began to decay.”

  I shook my head, afraid of hearing anything more. I began walking, following the bricks of cracked, yellow masonry which could still be detected beneath the plethora of weeds and grasses growing through the stones.

  I refused to stop, even when I heard S.C. calling out to me. He didn’t call me Thea. It was my grandmother’s name slipping through his lips, and for the first time in my life, I wished I’d known who she was. I thought I had, yet I knew so very little. Everything she’d been, her life, her memories, were lost forever.

  “Dorothy! Wait!”

  “My name is Thea!” I screamed as I broke into a run. Tears stung my eyes, but the wind burned them as my hair whipped in the breeze.

  “Thea!” S.C. called out. “I’m sorry!”

  I slowed down and came to a stop. Bending over and pressing my hands to my knees, I heaved deep breaths. I coughed up some phlegm, my chest on fire. My heart was broken to know my grandmother could have caused this devastation.

  I fumbled to pull out the silver amulet dangling on a chain around my neck. It was an heirloom I always wore, and I’d forgotten I was wearing it until that moment. It’d been passed down from my mother, and I wondered if it could be a piece of a silver shoe.

  I shook my head. Ridiculous. Why would she melt a piece of one of the shoes into a necklace? Where was the rest of it? Surely there could be no magic in the amulet dangling from my neck.

  “Oh, grandma, what does this mean?” I fell to my knees, tears spilling from my eyes and sliding down my cheeks.

  “Thea?” S.C. knelt next to me, rubbing my back softly with his now very human and deliciously warm hands. I shivered, realizing how cold I felt. I pulled my tattered hoodie tightly around me.

  “I wish there were no holes in my clothes,” I whispered, too low for even S.C. to hear me. A brilliant silvery light filled my vision, and a warmth spread through me as I peered down to find my clothes now intact, all rips and stains gone. I gasped, falling backward onto my hands as I scrambling away from S.C.

  “What did you do?” I yelled. I began sinking into the damp earth surrounding the road and got to my feet before I dirtied the clothes once more. I glared at the man standing before me. His eyes appeared sad, almost lost in remembrance. He looked familiar. I knew him, but how?

  “It appears you have a silver shoe on you,” he said, his sadness falling away. “The magic works now that you’ve entered Oz. That was what turned me back into a man, not the Emerald City.”

  “What do you mean?” I shook my head, unconvinced. “You need to tell me everything. Now.” I eyed him hard, waiting. The pit of my stomach tightened, knowing full well I wasn’t going to like the answers.

  “She turned me into a man because… well, your grandmother, she made promises. Promises she’s broken.”

  “What promises exactly?”

  His eyes shined under the scant light emanating past the seemingly permanent cloud cover sitting atop this world. I longed for a warm sunbeam to heat up my frozen bones. Even with my newly patched clothes, my soul felt icy.

  “She promised she would go back to Kansas and then return to marry me. You see, she left me in charge of Oz when she left. She was the rightful queen, but she never returned. Now… you’re here. I swear to you, Dorothy and I were in love, yet she never returned to me.”

  “My grandmother was supposed to marry you? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I do not kid of such things.”

  “Well, I guess you’re out of luck. She’s dead.”

  “Vows made in Oz are forever. Even transcending death.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re now my betrothed. Your bloodline must keep the oath.”

  I laughed, a crazed, throaty chuckle that made me sound like I’d completely lost my mind. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  He frowned and looked away, staring down the ruins of the Yellow Brick Road. “We must hurry if we’re to get to the Emerald City before nightfall. We don’t want to be on the road once the dark comes.”

  “Why? What happens at nightfall?” I asked, glad for the change of subject. S.C. appeared relieved as well. Hopefully we wouldn’t be revisiting the insane notion of vows and betrothals again. I just wanted to get back home.

  “The juggernauts emerge at nightfall. You don’t want to be outside when they come.” He sighed, looking suddenly tired. “There are small Minkin cottages scattered along the road. We might have to ask one of them if we can stay the night. They’ll understand, especially once they figure out who you are and that you carry the magic of the silver shoes with you.”

  I reached for my necklace once more. “I’ve never seen the shoes. I thought this amulet might be one, but why would my grandmother make a necklace out of one of them?”

  He shrugged as we began to walk slowly down the road. “I don’t know, but the shoes were quite powerful. Even a piece of one, like you have there, can do wonderful things.”

  My eyes widened. “So my grandmother really hid a silver shoe in this necklace? Wow.” I was awestruck.

  What little I could remember of my grandmother made me question everything. I wondered what her stories truly meant now that I knew they were real. Maybe the secret to save Oz was there, if only I had paid more attention.

  * * *

  Near evening, we approached an isolated cabin just off the road. It looked abandoned, but the sun was almost gone, and we had no choice but to spend the night there.

  “Hello?” I called out as I knocked on the rustic wooden door which appeared to be rotting from a termite infestation. My knock echoed hollowly, and the door creaked open. A little light streamed in through the dirt-streaked windows, allowing me to see that no one had lived there in a very long time. The bed had a thick layer of dust on it, the hearth was ashy and cold, and the table—along with everything else—was covered in cobwebs.

  “There’s no one here,” I called out to S.C., who’d gone exploring around the rear of the cabin. “S.C.?”

  “Thea, come here.”

  I followed his voice, jumping off the creaky porch and onto the barren forest floor. Inching around to the back, I found what had caught S.C.’s attention.

  A man made of tin stood frozen, his axe raised above a block of wood. A memory resurfaced, and the story of how my grandmother had found him popped into mind. How odd to fi
nd him the exact same way she had.

  “Tin Man! He’s rusted himself stiff.” I peered around, looking for the infamous oil can to lube him up. He’d been in such a state for so long, rust streaked his exterior. He was shaped quite like an anatomically correct human male, even down to the details pounded into the metal of his face.

  “Here.” S.C. held out an old, rusted oil can he’d found sitting alongside a cut stump of tree. I quickly took it and applied the slick fluid to all of Tin Man’s joints, including his lips, eyes, and nose.

  “Tin Man?” I asked.

  He didn’t move from his position as the oil dripped down his face and eyes, like tears. After several minutes without a response, I sighed, saddened we were unable to save him.

  Abruptly, metal shrieked, causing both of us to jump back.

  “Oh… I feel quite decrepit. So thirsty,” Tin Man muttered.

  I held out the oil can, which Tin Man took and began to sip from. The can had to be enchanted; it appeared to never run out of the oily substance.

  “Tin Man?” I called out again, hoping he could hear me.

  He blinked and peered my way, studying me before he glanced at S.C. As he moved, his features began to brighten. The oil spread over his joints and rinsed the worst of the rust away.

  “Oh, Dorothy! How nice of you to visit. It’s been so long. One moment.” He leaned to one side as though listening for something. A faint thump sounded against his chest, and he breathed out in relief. “Goodness, I was afraid it wasn’t going to ever beat again.”

  “Your heart, you mean?” I asked, impressed that the life-giving oil could awaken him.

  “Why, yes. It’s good to know the old ticker isn’t going to sputter out on me just yet. How have you been, Dorothy?”

  “She was my grandmother. I’m Thea.”

  “Oh, my. Well, hello, Thea. Nice to meet you.” He held out a squeaky hand for a shake. I peered at it; oil was still flooding each finger joint.

  “Um, I’ll wait on that shake. Seems you’re still mighty slick there.”

  “Pardon me!” He smiled and wiped his hand on his chest. A smear of oil was left in its wake.