The Giant Horse of Oz

CHAPTER 1

The King of the Ozure Isles

Far to the North, walled in on all sides by the craggy slopes of the Munchkin Mountains, lies the great Lost Lake of Orizon. And glittering on its blue bosom, like a large and lovely necklace, rest the Ozure Isles of Oz. Now Oz itself, this mysterious land about which we read and hear so often, is a large oblong Kingdom divided into four smaller Kingdoms with the Emerald City in the exact center. Here dwells Ozma, the present ruler, a little fairy of great gentleness and power. While all the Kingdoms in Oz are subject to Ozma, each has its own special sovereign.

For instance, the Northern Country of the Gillikens is governed by the Good Witch Tattypoo; The Red Land of the Quadlings, by Glinda the Good Sorceress of the South; the Western and Yellow Empire of the Winkies is under the kindly control of Nick Chopper, the Tin Woodman of Oz; the blue Munchkin Country is governed by a King of whom nothing much has been heard for many a long year. But be that as it may, it is in the Munchkin Country that the great Lost Lake of Orizon lies.

The waters of Orizon are deep, salt and dashing, so that it is more like an inland sea than a lake. On ancient Oz maps Orizon is marked by a large blue circle, but so steep and impenetrable are the paths over the mountains, so beset with dangerous beasts and yawning chasms, few travelers have glimpsed its sparkling waters, or the islands rising so dazzlingly from its center. On Oz maps to-day, Orizon is not shown at all, and the Lost Lake and its jeweled islands have long since been forgotten by the merry inhabitants of Ozma's Kingdom.

Except for the blue gulls that circle endlessly over the Sapphire City of Cheeriobed, no one thinks of, or visits the Ozure Isles, at all. Yet in the whole curious Land of Oz is no Kingdom more interesting or delightful. There are five of the Ozure Isles, each small and sparkling with flashing cliffs of iridescent gems and shores honeycombed with caves and jeweled grottoes. Instead of pebbles, the beaches are strewn with precious stones, opals, rubies and amethyst, turquoise and pearls, but more numerous than any other of the precious stones are the glittering sapphires that color the whole island realm with their dazzling blue light, and from which Cheeriobed, the King, has fashioned his capital City.

The Ozurians number one thousand and seven and are a tall fair haired race of Munchkins. In olden days they were the happiest, most care-free people in Oz, but that was before Mombi, the wicked witch of the North, stole the young Queen and sent the monster Quiberon to guard the waters of Orizon. Since then, the good King and his subjects have been virtual prisoners on the islands. The great flock of sea horses on which they were wont to ride to the mainland have been destroyed by this pitiless monster and only when Quiberon is sleeping dare the inhabitants venture down to the shore. You see in aquariums, the sea horses that abound in our own tropical waters. Well, the sea horses of Orizon were like that, only as large as Arabian steeds, with flashing manes, great winged fins and powerful shining tails. To ride upon their backs must have been more pleasurable than anything I can imagine and their loss was one of the greatest griefs this island monarch had suffered. One would wonder that so unfortunate a King could endure life at all.

But Cheeriobed was so kind and gay and so naturally merry that even in the face of all his misfortunes he was calm and uncomplaining and often had whole days at a time when he forgot to be unhappy. Upon his shimmering islands grew everything necessary for comfort and ease and his subjects were light hearted and industrious and always obedient to his desires. Then, to see the sun flashing on the jeweled rocks and sparkling shores of the Ozure Isles by day and the moon silvering the spires of the Sapphire City by night would lift the heaviest heart. To further lighten the sorrows of this good King, there was Philador, his son. Nowhere in the four Kingdoms of Oz lived a gayer, handsomer and more companionable little fellow. Then too, Cheeriobed was fortunate enough to have at his castle a juggler who could balance ten chairs and some more things upon his chin, a minstrel who knew a thousand songs, and a carpet that could beat itself. So on the rare occasions when Quiberon lay dozing, life was gay and happy in the blue castle.

On one such calm and sunny morning, Cheeriobed, his throne drawn close to the great windows, was gazing dreamily off toward the Munchkin Mountains. He was thinking of the old happy days and only half listening to the strumming of Umtillio, the minstrel. At his side, Toddledy, faithful scribe and Prime Moneyster was balancing the castle accounts, while Palumbo, the court juggler, balanced seven books, three ink wells and a gold chair on the tip of his nose.

"Has your Highness ever considered," panted Palumbo, speaking with difficulty because of the books and ink bottles—"Has your Highness ever considered how the noses and chins in this Kingdom have been neglected? With a little training, I could teach the Islanders to carry their entire possessions in this careless and interesting fashion. Take your own nose for instance—" The King passed his hand uneasily over his nose and Toddledy looking up from his accounts began to mutter crossly under his breath. "Take your own nose," continued Palumbo persuasively, "with a little practice you could balance the fire tongs, the screen and the sapphire clock itself upon the tip. We'll begin with a few simple exercises."

Paying no attention to Toddledy, the Court Juggler set down the books and ink bottles and lifted the huge clock from the mantel. "Now then," he puffed earnestly, "if your Highness will kneel and turn the head to the left." Cheeriobed with a resigned wink at his Prime Moneyster had just got down upon his knees, when a shuddering explosion shook the castle. The jeweled chandeliers rattled like castanets, ornaments left their accustomed places and flew through the air, chairs slid into corners, and the carpet that could shake itself, shook off three tables and a chair and rolling up so rapidly it caught Umtillio unawares, reared stiffly on end and stood in a corner. Cheeriobed had fallen heavily to the floor and small wonder. At the first tremor Palumbo had dropped the sapphire clock upon his head and taken to his heels.

"Quiberon!" quavered Toddledy, rushing over to the window and drawing aside the blue curtains, "Great Totomos—what does he want now?"

As if to answer the old Prime Moneyster the castle rocked more violently than ever. The waters of Orizon below began to toss and bubble, and presently from their churning depths rose the frightful head of Mombi's monster. No sea serpent was ever uglier than Quiberon, fire shot from his eye and smoke from his nostrils. He had the head scales and talons of a dragon and the long hideous body of a giant fear-fish. As Toddledy clutched at the curtains to keep from falling, Quiberon sent a great cloud of smoke upward. It twisted, curled and spiraled, forming itself finally into a long black sentence, the words hanging like a dark threat in the clear morning air.

"Send a mortal maiden to wait upon me or in three days I will destroy you utterly!" As Toddledy with smarting eyes read this monstrous message, Quiberon showed all of his red tusks and dove beneath the waves. At the same instant Akbad the Soothsayer came tearing into the throne room.

"Dunce!" shrieked Akbad, shaking his long finger under Toddledy's nose, "why do you stand there idle when the whole Kingdom is in danger? The King is in danger, the Prince is in danger, I, Akbad the Soothsayer, am in danger of being destroyed utterly. Utterly! Utterly! Utterly!"

Racing around in a frenzied circle, Akbad began to tear out handfuls of his hair and cast it upon the floor. His loud outcries aroused the unconscious monarch. Rubbing the lump that the sapphire clock had raised upon his forehead, Cheeriobed rose and unsteadily made his way to the window. The black sentence was growing fainter but was still legible. After reading it twice, the unhappy monarch groaned heavily and dropped his head upon the sapphire sill. "Where are we to find a mortal maiden and even if we do find one, who would condemn her to such a fate?" mourned the King.

"Here comes Jewlia," panted Toddledy, ducking his head as a small Ozurian came sailing through the window. Each of the Ozure Islanders took turns serving Quiberon and the last to take charge of his cavern was Jewlia, the Court Jeweler's daughter. Not caring for land food Quiberon had never molested the keepers of his cavern. So far, he had satisfied himself with devouring the sea horses, preventing any of the Ozure Islanders from leaving the Islands and shaking them up whenever he wished to amuse himself. His treatment of Jewlia was therefore all the more alarming. While the King continued to groan and Akbad to tear out his hair, Toddledy hurried anxiously over to the little maiden.

"My child!" stuttered Toddledy touching her gently on the arm—"What has happened, are you hurt?"

"I was only telling him stories," wailed Jewlia, wiping her eyes on her blue silk apron.

"A pernicious and wicked habit," fumed Akbad, shaking his finger at the trembling little girl. "What kind of stories, may I ask?"

"Stories about Ozma of Oz and the three little mortal maids who have come to live in the Emerald City," sobbed Jewlia. "I found them in an old history book in my father's shop, and when I finished the last story—" Jewlia paused to wipe her eyes—"Quiberon rushed out of the cave, and when he came back, seized me in his talons and hurled me through this window." Burying her head in her hands Jewlia began to weep afresh.

"There, there," begged Cheeriobed, patting her kindly on the shoulder. "Don't cry, my dear."

"Let her cry!" roared Akbad, stamping furiously up and down. "The mischievous wench, with her tales of mortal maidens, has ruined us all. Nothing can save us now." As if to emphasize his gloomy prediction, the castle began to tremble violently. Holding to his crown with both hands—it was inset with cobble stones which are extremely rare on a jeweled island—Cheeriobed sat down hard upon his throne.

"I must think!" muttered the King in a faint voice.

"Think if you can!" sniffed the Soothsayer, hooking his arm around a pillar. "Can you think a mortal maid into the monster's cave? Can you think of a way to leave the islands, even?"

"Has your Majesty forgotten the golden pear?" Swinging backward and forward on the window curtains as the castle rocked to and fro, Toddledy peered out inquiringly at the King.

"The pear!" chattered Cheeriobed. "No one must pick the golden pear. That is for Prince Philador and to be picked only in times of extreme danger."

"What do you call this?" demanded Akbad indignantly. "Are we to be destroyed without lifting a finger to save ourselves?"

"Philador? Where is Philador?" groaned Cheeriobed, putting both hands to his ears, as Toddledy and Akbad began to scream hoarsely at each other. "Send for the Prince!" Glad to escape from the confusion, and keeping her footing with difficulty, Jewlia ran off to search for the little Prince. By the time she reached the beach, the islands had stopped quivering. Breathlessly Jewlia hastened to the hidden cove where Philador was usually to be found sailing his toy fleet. At the first quake, he had thrown himself face down on the rocks. But so accustomed was Philador to the tempers of Quiberon that he thought nothing of the terrible quakes that rocked the islands from time to time. When the shaking had ceased, Philador jumped up and was unconcernedly feeding the blue gulls as Jewlia came running over the shining sands. As quickly as she could, Jewlia told him of Quiberon's latest demand and of his dark threat to destroy the Kingdom. Then arm in arm they made their way back to the castle. The carpet that could shake itself had unrolled, and Umtillio, looking terribly tossed and ruffled, was sitting in the center, plucking out a sad tune upon his harp. He nodded mournfully as the two children came tip-toeing into the throne room. Akbad was feverishly thumbing over an old book of Necromancy and Toddledy and Cheeriobed were conversing in subdued whispers.

"The only one who can help us is the Good Witch of the North," mused Cheeriobed, as Philador sank down at his feet and rested his head affectionately against his father's knee.

"Let me go to her," begged the little Prince eagerly. "Surely she will help me find my mother and destroy Quiberon before he destroys us."

Cheeriobed shook his head quickly and decidedly. "No! No! It is too dangerous. Besides, there is no way to cross the lake. We must think of something else." Taking off his crown, Cheeriobed gazed sadly off into the distance. Long ago, word had been brought by the blue gulls of the capture of Mombi, the wicked witch of the North, by Tattypoo, who now ruled in her stead. Great had been the rejoicing on the Ozure Isles and hopefully Cheeriobed had waited for Tattypoo to restore his Queen and deliver him from the cruel clutches of Quiberon. But time had passed and nothing had happened. Much of Mombi's mischief had been remedied by the Good Witch of the North, but many of Mombi's misdeeds were not known to her or anyone else in the Land of Oz, so not knowing of Cheeriobed's misfortunes, Tattypoo had done nothing to help him. But the good King always felt that some day Tattypoo would find out about Quiberon and come to his rescue. As he continued to gaze unseeingly straight ahead, as Akbad continued to mutter and Toddledy to groan, the little Prince grew more and more miserable and unhappy. Finally he slipped unnoticed from the throne room and, running down to the shores of the lake, cast himself gloomily on the sapphire rocks. Surely it was sad to live on the loveliest islands in Oz and never to be safe or happy.

"If I could just find a way to cross the lake," muttered Philador, feeling in his pockets for some crumbs to throw the gulls, "then I could find the Good Witch of the North." The gulls were his constant and never failing friends and, as one and then another settled down on the rocks beside him, he told them of Quiberon's demand for a mortal maiden and his threat to destroy the Kingdom. In Oz, as you all know, the birds and beasts can speak and the blue gulls not only listened sympathetically to the little Prince but talked among themselves of Quiberon's cruelty.

"Come back, Princeling, when the moon is high," whispered a little blue lady gull, when the others had flown away. "Come back when the moon is high. I have thought of a way to help you!" Comforted in spite of himself, but resolved to say nothing at all to the King, Philador crept quietly back to the castle.