Chp. 7: Up to Lake Chorge

"Here you are, sir. That'll be ten shillings," said the greasy merchant.

"Ten shillings?! Grosum, you're killing me. That's three more shillings than yesterday," said the angry customer.

Grosum shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry, Arji, my boy, but I don't make the prices, I just sell what I can. If ya wanna talk about the pricin' of things, then take it up with Shell the Priest."

Arji nodded, not wanting to cross paths with Shell anytime soon. "Thank you anyway, Grosum." He took his items with gratitude, paid his good friend, and then left for home.

Arji had been living freely in Neverdale, Gillikin for a good six years. He found a spot near Lake Chorge and built a little cottage made of some trees from a forest in Traum. He called the homestead Faeyero—a name that had special meaning to him.

Prologue

A summer day with a summer breeze. The wild grass flitted softly. He saw her turn; she was smiling beautifully as the wind blew her flowing black hair just so—framing her face perfectly. He ran to her. They embraced. Oh, how he had missed her so. Seven years was way too long.

"Rain," he whispered, softly, "don't leave me ever again." He opened his eyes. He was only hugging air. He looked around, trying to find her, but she had disappeared again—like she always did.

Tip opened his tear-stained eyes. He rolled over and saw the empty spot next to him. He rubbed the pillow, wishing there was hair he could stroke; a cheek he could caress; lips he could kiss. Tip couldn't believe it had only been seven years since Rain left. He wished he had spent more time with her. He understood why she left: It was to protect him and their daughter, Ozma-Joy. But now he wished it would've been him under that guillotine; he wanted to die in place of her.

Tip shook the thoughts away. There was nothing he could've done. Now it was his job to take care of Joy. He promised Rain he would, but seven years does a lot to a person.

Chp. 1

Joy waited for her Daddy. Her legs kicked the air impatiently as she sat on the couch. Her head perked when she heard him come in. She smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with delight.

"Good mornin' Daddy," she said, sweetly.

He gave a sleepy grunt and grabbed another half-empty bottle, and Joy's smile faded. She had forgotten about this. "Daddy," the child asked, "why you drink dat?"

He looked at her after taking a sip. "It's medicine, dear," he said taking a longer sip.

"Are you sick, Daddy?"

"Yeah," he coughed, "Daddy's sick."

"Are ya gonna git better, Daddy?"

He paused, looking out at the ruins that were once Oz. He finally said: "No, no sweetie. I don't think Daddy's ever getting better."

Joy nodded, her Daddy wouldn't lie to her, but she was beginning to think that the medicine wasn't working. He had been drinkin' dat stuff for as long as she could remember. It didn't seem to help him, only maked him worser. Joy wanted to help Daddy get be'er, if only she knowed how. She was, after all, almost eight; there wasn't much she could do.

The boy died seven years ago, right in his arms. He didn't know who he was until it was too late. Why didn't she tell him? Why didn't she tell him they had a son? He slammed his fists, frustrated. He decided to take a drive. Amazing contraptions these motor machines were. Easier to get around the country; much faster than a horse and buggy, or a train, or even a bubble or broom! Broom…broom. She used to ride a broom. He pressed the gas pedal. She also didn't tell him about their son! He eased up, remembering that he was also madly in love with her.

Another blow to the face sent Scarly against the wall. "Please, s-sir, stop," she pleaded, holding her cheek.

Le Kay gripped her wrists, his nails digging into her skin as he pinned them to the wall. "I don't want to hear your damn voice again. I am the Wizard of Oz; you will do as I say!"

"Well, s-sir, I'm sorry, but I can't be your little 'whore' anymore!" She shook his greasy mitts off of her and started marching over to the door.

"If you leave, then you can say good-bye to your precious Manek and your darling little girl." She heard him chuckle.

Scarly turned around, tears were streaming. "You wouldn't." But she knew all too well that it wasn't her choice to make, it was an imperative, so she ran back into his arms.

"That's my girl," he said crisply, massaging her shoulders. "Now, where were we?"

Rain's image came again. This time she was wearing a beautiful white gown, decked with little lotus flowers. In her hair she had a tiara of pretty pink petals. But as quickly as her image came, she vanished just as fast. She faded away—like she always did.

Tip woke up again. He rolled onto his side and saw the empty space next him. No matter how many times he dreamt of her, there was always that empty space—not only at his bedside—but also in his heart. Seven years. Seven years he raised their daughter Ozma, later renamed Joy to keep her safe. Seven years not knowing what to do; what to say; what to feel. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't let go of Rain.

His first love.

His only love.

The void in his heart could never be filled. Not by anyone. Not nobody, not no how. And he took another sip of whiskey.

Le Kay looked over his records for a second time. No luck. He hadn't found it in that Witch's castle, nor anywhere in that blasted shed along the Vinkus River. Where could it be? He couldn't think; he needed counsel.

"Mother, show yourself," he demanded.

A cloudy mist shrouded the room instantly. Her form appeared with a bluish-glow. She smiled, floating over the many towering bookshelves.

"My son," she said. "What is it you want?" Her expression vexed.

"Mother, I am sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to ask you about the whereabouts of the Grimmerie."

"I've already given you several leads," she huffed, crossing her will-o-wisp arms.

"I know; but I've searched everywhere. I vanquished that Wicked Witch; searched her castle, but the book was nowhere to be found. Even searching through the little dugout of her granddaughter, the book was never in her possession."

"Oh my son, you are terribly confused," she laughed.

"Huh?"

"You are not looking with your eyes; you are looking with your ears. To find the book, you must know how to look. Search high and low and in time you will find it." Her form started to disappear.

"I don't understand."

"Search high and low and in "time" you will find it," she repeated before her smile faded.

Le Kay wasn't sure what she meant by her damn riddle, but he was sure he'd find out eventually. He picked up the phone. "Hello, operator? Yes, this is the Wizard, Le Kay. Can you get me Trism on the line? Thank you."