bridge was only an illusion He’d expected them to see him safe on the other side and to follow him But that hadn’t happened Brink’s pulse sped up again as he thought of Zerie Greenapple her eyes going wide with terror as a Winged Monkey scooped her up into the air Another Monkey had taken Vashti Weaver and all Brink could do was watch helplessly from the bridge as his two friends were carried off by the agents of Princess Ozma to their giant airship hovering overhead Why hadn’t the Monkeys taken him too Brink had turned to the golden doors of Glinda’s Palace banging on them with both fists He’d known his only chance was to get the attention of the great sorceress to beg for her help It was the reason he Zerie and Vashti had traveled so far from their home in the north of Quadling Country Glinda was the only one with the power to oppose Princess Ozma and her ban on magic in
the Land of Oz The golden gates had swung open and Brink saw her Glinda as beautiful as all the old tales had said with long red hair piercing blue eyes and a gown of sparkling white so bright it almost hurt to look at Help Brink had cried falling to his knees in front of her Ozma has taken my friends Glinda had smiled at him Smiled and raised her hand Then there had been a loud sound like a clap of thunder and the next thing he knew it was dark and he was alone Brink laid his hand on the ground which felt cold and rough beneath his palm He didn’t know if he had seen Glinda a few seconds ago or a few days ago The darkness had come as such a shock that he wasn’t sure if he’d lost consciousness or if he’d simply been transported here by magic He felt sure of only one thing and that was Glinda
herself She’d smiled at him and it hadn’t been a friendly smile It had been a triumphant smile A mocking smile A cruel smile Glinda wasn’t Good Glinda was evil Brink drew in a breath and concentrated on the darkness His eyes weren’t adjusting to it the way they normally would He needed light Brink thought about the hurricane lamp he kept on his bedside table at home and wondered if he could create an illusion of light He imagined himself sitting in bed glancing over at the lamp as he reached to turn it off He did this every single night so the lamp was as familiar to him as his red wooden nightstand his well-worn blanket and the smell of oil drifting up from the workroom where his dad and his older brother Ned built their clockwork machines Brink had never spent much time staring at his hurricane lamp but now he conjured the image in his mind and studied the
rounded glass that made up the base the copper dial that controlled the wick the reddish oil that filled it the flame that glowed bright and cheerful in the top The flame Yellow with a hint of blue at the wick Magnified by the glass that surrounded it warming the air Lighting the room Brink could picture the flame perfectly could feel the image of it struggling to push its way out of him and form in the empty air An illusion that looked absolutely real He did it all the time But this time nothing happened Brink sighed It was no use He couldn’t make an illusion His friend the Glass Cat had said that Glinda’s Palace was protected by such a strong enchantment that no magic would work there other than her own Did that mean he was still in Glinda’s Palace Slowly Brink lay down on the cold rough floor He concentrated on the space around him Was he in a room He couldn’t sense any walls
