Ruler of Beasts (Dorothy Must Die, #0.6)(11)
The Lion’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know there was anything before the Deadly Desert.”
Ozma laughed. “Of course there was, silly! Nothing is forever. And the Nomes are an ancient people, nearly as old as the fairies, though luckily for us they’ve forgotten as much as we have about the prehistory of our lands. The Nome King would have invaded long ago if he knew the tunnels existed. Anyway, we should be able to find a way to get close to where the Nome King is digging. My magic connects to the magic of Oz, and I can feel any disturbances, especially this close to the Emerald City. It’s difficult to teleport underground, but if we get close enough, I can do it if we have to.”
The Lion got to his feet, eyeing the empty breakfast plates sadly. Ozma, seeing his look, snapped her fingers and a heavy bundle appeared. “There’s your lunch,” she said, still laughing, and handed it to the Lion. He tucked the bundle over his shoulder, feeling much better about the adventure now that there was food involved.
“Lead the way!” he said, and followed Ozma out of the room.
EIGHT
It was still early, and the palace halls were nearly empty. Ozma led him down out-of-the-way corridors, anxious to avoid anyone who might ask questions about where the queen was going. She had magically transformed her royal gown into a plain traveling dress and covered herself with a drab gray cloak, but she wore her golden crown, and there was no mistaking her queenly air. She was so fiercely intelligent, so alert, that it would have been difficult for her to ever truly disguise herself, the Lion thought. Her intensity shone from her electric green eyes and was clear in her precise, alert movements. Oz’s new queen was formidable indeed.
Ozma led him farther and farther into the depths of the palace, and soon they saw no one at all. This part of the castle was silent and oppressive. They were too deep for any natural light to reach them, and the hallways were lit with sooty, guttering torches that flared into life as they approached and then extinguished themselves again, leaving the hall behind them in thick, velvety darkness. Without light from the outside, the Lion had no sense of the passage of time, or how long they had been walking. Down here, the hallways were carpeted with a thick layer of dust that drifted up into his nostrils and made him sneeze. No one had been down here in a long, long time. Here and there, and then more frequently, the cut stone walls gave way to sheer rock, and the floor pitched steeply downward.
“We’re going underground now,” Ozma said unnecessarily. Hers were the first words either of them had spoken in a long time, and her voice rang out harshly in the dense silence so that both of them flinched. Ozma took a deep breath and straightened her back. “This is a very old part of Oz,” she said more firmly, “but it’s not a hostile one. You have nothing to fear here, Lion.”
He suspected her words were meant to reassure herself as much as him, but he only nodded. The line of torches ended soon after she spoke. Ozma muttered something under her breath and snapped her fingers, and a tiny ball of cheerful yellow light sprung to life and darted back the way they had come. “Over here!” Ozma called, and it dutifully fluttered back to hover directly over Ozma’s head, where it seemed to shrink a little.
“Can you make it go ahead of us so it lights the way a little better?” the Lion asked. Ozma said something to the ball of light and it shivered violently.
“It’s afraid of the dark,” Ozma said apologetically.
“I’m not afraid of the dark,” the Lion said. But despite the Wizard’s gift of courage, he wasn’t quite as confident as he sounded. The darkness itself closed in like a living thing, its menace creeping into his heart and stealing away his bravery. In the distance, he could hear a faint dripping noise, as if water was slowly dribbling from a great height. He could feel the weight of the stone above them, as if the ceiling was beginning to sink. What would they do if the tunnel crumbled? he thought, beginning to panic. He huddled on the floor, covering his head with his paws as if that would somehow protect him, but he knew the feeble gesture was useless. This was the end. He’d never see the light again, or run through the forest, or feel fresh air riffling through his fur. They’d be trapped down here, down in the darkness forever . . .
“Stop!” Ozma’s voice rang out into the darkness, and her ball of light blazed a little brighter. “I am Ozma of Oz, direct descendant of the fairy Lurline and rightful ruler of Oz! I come on a mission of protection!” Her wings fluttered, the golden veins catching the light and scattering it like a shower of fireworks. Suddenly, she was every inch a queen, all trace of the lonely, frightened girl he knew completely erased. As she spoke, the panic that had gripped the Lion eased immediately, and the feeling that the tunnel was collapsing around him slipped away. He took a deep, relieved breath.
“This place is very old,” Ozma said again in a normal tone of voice. “It doesn’t like strangers.”
The Lion had nothing to say to that, but he let Ozma go ahead of him as they continued down the tunnel, and he stopped more than once to listen carefully, making sure no one was following them.
As the tunnel continued to descend, the air grew warmer and warmer. The Lion’s fur itched in the heat, and even Ozma looked a little wilted in the wan light from her orb. Moisture ran down the rough stone walls and trickled past their feet. Ozma stopped suddenly, and the Lion nearly ran into her. “What is it?” he asked. Ozma pointed at a yawning patch of darkness in the tunnel wall, and it took the Lion a moment to realize it was another tunnel branching off from theirs. Ozma closed her eyes, holding up both hands to the hot, stifling air for several long, tension-filled seconds before dropping them again and opening her eyes. “This way,” she said, continuing down the same tunnel.