Whole in the Clouds

by Kristine Kibbee

  Thomas, Celius, and Serene had only been gone for about half an hour when Cora heard a knock on the door to her cell.

  “Let me in,” the voice on the other side whispered.

  Cora’s instinct was to stay quiet, but a dangerous mix of curiosity and boredom led her to respond. “Who’s there?”

  “Mother?” The voice called louder this time. She could tell it was definitely a man’s voice on the other side, and though it was rough it still had an element of softness to it.

  “I think you’ve got the wrong cell,” Cora replied.

  The voice went silent for a while but after a few moments continued, “Is Treinbaulm Charlene in there with you?” The voice was hesitant this time.

  “Nope, it’s just me.”

  “Where do they keep the other prisoners?”

  “Prisoners? There aren’t any prisoners here,” Cora replied, feeling defensive. She realized after saying so that she didn’t actually know for certain if her words were true. At the same time she couldn’t imagine her mother and father holding anyone against their will. With a grin she examined the four walls that surrounded her and realized that she was currently a prisoner.

  “No, Charlene is here. She has to be here,” the voice was panicked now, and slightly agitated. “She would’ve come home otherwise.”

  In that moment Cora realized that whomever she was speaking to did not live in the castle. “Wait a second—who are you?” She was feeling bolder now. “Tell me your name!”

  The man outside huffed, and then cleared his throat. “Treinbaulm Patrick,” he replied. “And, may I ask, just who are you?”

  “Cora. Cora Cat—” She stopped abruptly, realizing she was about to give her Backworlds name. “Cora Finnegan,” she finally amended.

  “Cora? I’ve never heard of the Cora family…and why would they name someone so sweet-sounding ‘Finnegan’? That’s just blasphemous!”

  Cora realized suddenly that she’d introduced herself backwards—shaking her head, she quickly replied, "Sorry! I’ve got to get used to…never mind, whatever… My name is Cora. My family name is Finnegan.” It seemed less impressive now that she’d had to explain it.

  Cora heard Patrick gasp before replying, “A Finnegan? Are you a rebel?”

  “No!” She defensively shot back.

  “Then why are you locked up?”

  “Oh, I’m here for my own safety. Supposedly.”

  “Then you’re…the princess?”

  “That’s what they tell me,” Cora replied. She felt her cheeks growing warm with a blush.

  Patrick went silent again. She could hear him resting against the door and breathing heavily.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.

  “I’m looking for my mother,” he replied. His voice was forlorn now.

  Cora had an inexplicable urge to reach out and comfort him. She leaned her body against the door, imagining that it might dissolve and allow them to touch. For a moment she was certain she could feel the thud of Patrick’s heart beating on the other side.

  “I have to go now,” he mumbled in a whisper. Cora didn’t have a chance to reply before she heard his footsteps racing away and up the corridor.

  Several hours passed before Cora heard another voice, this one her father’s. He sounded excited as he spoke with Serene. Cora couldn’t make out their words but both parents spoke loudly and enthusiastically.

  “Open.” Cora let out a sigh of relief at the sound of her father’s voice commanding the door open. She was finally free from her prison.

  The door swung open and both Thomas and Serene rushed in to hug Cora. As the three held on tightly to one another, Motley wedged his nose in between them to get Cora’s attention.

  “You’re all right!” she exclaimed, leaning down to kiss him.

  Motley lapped back affectionately and replied, “Was there ever a doubt?” His eyes grew large as he stepped back. “I saw it, saw the whole thing! Your dad’s cunning, your mom’s stealth…it was amazing!”

  “Don’t tell me you were in the thick of it?” Images of Motely tripping through a battlefield swelled in Cora’s brain.

  “Aw, no, we had him well hidden. Who knew there were so many Dane-sized cupboards around the castle?” Thomas winked, approached Motely, and laid his hand atop the massive dog’s back. “And anyhow, it wasn’t quite as eventful as your friend here claims.”

  As Serene came to her husband’s elbow, Cora noticed a tear in the right cuff of her gown. “Your father’s right,” she confirmed. “Just a bit of a coup. Some rebels staged a diversion, trying to get into the castle, but between the guards’ efforts and ours, they didn’t make it very far.”

  Cora nodded, studying her disheveled parents with pride swelling in her chest. It all seemed fairly cut and dried, until she recalled her brief visit from the mysterious Patrick.

  “There was a someone. A man.” Cora announced. “He came here after you left me here. He said he was looking for his mother.”

  “A man?” Thomas was back on high alert, “Was he familiar to you? Did you recognize him?”

  Certainly Patrick wasn’t one of the invaders, Cora thought nervously.

  “No, he wasn’t. He said his name was Patrick––I mean, Treinbaulm Patrick.”

  “Treinbaulm?” The king and queen shouted in unison. Their revulsion was obvious.

  “Yes…”

  “He said he was looking for who now?” Thomas asked.

  “His mother. He said her name was Charlene.” Cora inched her way out of the room. She didn’t want her parents racing off to fight again and leaving her stuck inside.

  “Why would he be looking for her here?” Thomas asked, addressing no one in particular. His face scrunched up in a peculiar, contemplative expression as he mulled his own question.

  Serene was visibly concerned. “What did he say, Cora? Did he try to hurt you?”

  “Hurt me? No, of course not. Why on earth would he want to hurt me?”

  Serene played with her hair nervously, twisting it around her fingers. “My dear, he is the very reason we are at war. Patrick is an enemy to this house and all it represents,” she declared, looking beyond Cora, as if searching for an elusive answer that might be hiding just behind her.

  “What in the world could have been his intent?” Serene fingered her chin and stared at Thomas.

  Mimicking his wife, the king gazed out a nearby window, mumbling, “Charlene, Charlene…” until wondering aloud, “Could it be? Were they just a diversion?”

  “Perhaps we were not so victorious after all?” Worry lines dented Serene’s forehead. “It would seem the rebels were at least successful at sneaking Patrick into the castle undetected.”

  Thomas paced before them, all but wearing a rut in the floor. “But why? Why would he think his mother would be here? Here, of all places!”

  “Cora, did he say why he thought she was here?” Serene asked.

  “No, not that I remember,” Cora replied slowly, distracted by an inchworm weaving a dusty trail near her foot. He was wearing spectacles and a velvet smoking jacket, and Cora smiled to herself as she watched him.

  Thomas was still pacing back and forth. “It must have been Barnibus,” he finally concluded.

  “Do you really think so?” Serene replied. Her features were ripe with curiosity. “But—”

  “Who the heck is Barnibus?” Cora interrupted. Once again she felt entirely confused, as if she’d started watching a mystery movie thirty minutes after it started.

  “Barnibus is Patrick’s father and the leader of the rebellion,” Thomas replied with a distracted air. His mind was clearly focused on whatever questions he had in his own head.

  “So why would he do it?” Serene asked aloud. “Why would he send Patrick in here looking for Charlene? He knows she’s in The Backworlds.”

  Silence enveloped the space. No one seemed to have an answer. Cora knew for certain that she, least of all, would have any idea as to why Patrick had
been sent to the castle to seek out his mother. She did, however, have a feeling that she and Patrick were meant to meet. When Cora revealed this to Serene as they walked the corridor to Cora’s bedroom later that night it evoked a strange reaction from her mother.

  Serene had stopped suddenly and turned uncharacteristically pale before replying, “We must not speak of this again,” and then continued to lead Cora the rest of the way down the hall without saying another word.

  Ten: The Explorers

  As Serene exited the bedroom in a stony silence, Cora spied a long wagging tail slip out the door right behind her. It was a sleepless hour before Motley returned, chest puffed like a marshmallow, proudly recanting his evening’s investigation with a twinkle of excitement in his eye. He explained that he had become quite adept at hiding in small, dark places and gathering intel, and had chosen to embark upon a recon mission to uncover the hidden secrets of the Finnegan castle. Cora giggled at the image of his likeness to Scooby Doo—out to solve another fascinating mystery but mucking the whole mission up with his awkward antics and knocking knees.

  Motley, on the other hand, cast himself as a brave hero who’d laid his own life on the line to serve his princess. Locating an excellent hiding place and remaining still enough to avoid detection for an hour was no small feat, after all! Enamored by his own greatness, Motley had prattled on about himself for nearly fifteen minutes without managing to divulge a single scrap of the information he’d gathered. Cora worried he’d keep her in suspense forever when at last he finally made it to the meat of his report. “So, as I resisted the overwhelming sensation to burst from my excellent hiding place and devour the leftover steak that Thomas had neglected on his dinner plate, that’s when I heard it.”

  “Heard what?” Cora urged.

  “I heard Thomas and Serene talking about the Treinbaulms. Neither of them seemed to think much of the family, that’s for sure. As a matter of fact, sounded to me like the Finnegans and Treinbaulms were mortal enemies or something.” Motley was rigid with excitement and continued on in haste. “Thomas kept talking about a betrayal of some sort and made it sound like the Treinbaulms were an altogether ghastly bunch!”

  “Hmmm,” Cora pondered, “ghastly, huh? I don’t know, I thought Patrick seemed pretty nice.”

  “Gee whiz, I almost forgot the weirdest part!” Motley exclaimed. “Serene said something about a mark and about keeping you and Patrick apart at all costs.”

  Now thoroughly dumbfounded, Cora sat in a cross-legged heap on her bed. Her mind was a mess of questions and curiosity. Had it been any other topic she would’ve approached her mother for help, but judging by Serene’s reaction prior to leaving her bedroom that night, Cora knew that this was a mystery she’d have to solve herself.

  “Up for a little more investigating, Motley?”

  A wagging tail gave away his answer.

  The cobbled brick pathway that led from Cora’s room was smooth and cold on her feet. Motley trailed close behind, whispering detective tips and warnings about the danger that could be lurking around every corner. When the pair had finally emerged from the winding corridor and into the Great Room, Cora was awestruck at the sight of the Tree of Life and Balance wrapped in a hazy twilight of evening. Twinkling lights illuminated the base of the tree’s circular stairway and set the pathway alive. Just above the stairs, the tree’s dense, seed-laden branches shone an emerald green in the moonlight and cast a glow throughout the entire room. The scene was nothing if not magical and took Cora’s breath away.

  Motley, however, was less impressed and instead focused intently on the mission. “Where shall we start?” he asked in a loud whisper, his eyes darting from one doorway to the next.

  As determined as Cora had been to go looking for answers, she had never thought of where to start her search. She realized with a sting of disappointment that she’d yet to really investigate the castle and didn’t know one door from the next.

  “I don’t really know,” she finally replied. “All the doors look the same to me.”

  “Well, then,” Motley replied, “It’s about time we started snooping around!”

  By process of deduction (and thanks, per Motley, to his keen canine intellect), Motley surmised that between him and Cora they’d been down five of the Great Room’s twelve corridors, leaving them with seven more to explore. They decided to split up and report back to the tree in an hour.

  The first corridor Cora chose was directly clockwise from the Finnegan’s. Unlike the massive hallway to the Finnegan bedchamber, this one was narrower and dingy. The elaborately carved torches that lit her corridor were grand and abundant in comparison to the distantly spaced, rudimentary ones she found herself depending upon now. Straining to see through the dark from one torch to the next, Cora eventually took one from the wall and carried it along with her.

  As she embarked deeper into the recesses of the cavernous tunnel, it seemed to close in around her with each advancing footstep. She began to wonder if the entire corridor would come alive and close up around her. Or, perhaps, she was the one actually getting bigger?

  Cora had nearly decided that she’d fallen into Wonderland when the outline of a shabby-looking door appeared in the distance. Unlike most of the doors of the castle, this one was rectangular and reminded Cora of one she might have encountered in The Backworlds. Gone were the soft, rounded edges and masterful carving that made one feel as if they were just about to enter a magical room. This door was plain and disappointingly normal, but no less intriguing to Cora. Full of anticipation, she grasped the knob and gave a slow, steady turn.

  Beyond the entry Cora found an extremely dark space. She instinctively reached her hand around the wall just inside, searching for a light switch, but found none. She couldn’t see anything in the darkness, but stepped inside anyway. With a deep breath she willed herself farther into the room.

  After a few steps she felt something hit her face. Stifling a scream, she reached up frantically, her hands flailing in the blackness. Once her hands found the “something” dangling in the darkness, she grabbed on tightly and gave it a pull. There was a small popping noise, and then there was light. She didn’t even need to raise her eyes to look at the “something” she had slain. Her attacker was nothing more than the hanging string to a lightbulb. “Smooth, Cora, real smooth.”

  While she couldn’t see everything in the room from her spot by the entrance, Cora could tell that the room was intended for storage. Shelves to her left held blankets and pillows of fantastically vibrant colors piled high as the eye could see. There was a rickety ladder propped up at the start of the shelving and Cora noticed a miniature pair of striped socks sticking from between two particularly downy quilts. The soft snoring that accompanied them assured her that one of the castle’s residents had chosen this location for his nap.

  To her right Cora noticed another enormous shelving unit. This one was brimming with an eclectic variety of trinkets and toys. She fantasized that the abandoned pile of rubble contained mechanisms for controlling anything from the weather to the future. Anything was possible in Clouden, after all.

  After a last look around the room, Cora made her way back up the corridor into the Great Room to pick another door.

  The next corridor, with its ivory-painted tunnel and warm, mysterious breeze, was much more pleasant than the one leading to the storage room. When Cora reached the end of the hallway, she was surprised to find a door barricaded by a large frog, wearing a twine spindle as a top hat. The frog shook his head at her and held a crooked cane over the door with quiet determination. Cora flared her nostrils, spun back around and huffed all the way back up the corridor with a sense of failure.

  “Third time’s a charm,” she decided as she made her way to the next hallway with a sulk to her step. She could hear the melody of a harp being strummed gently, calling from the depths of the tunnel, and followed it as would a cartoon character the sweet scent of a pie cooling on a windowsill. At its end, she found a smooth
maple door with a woodland creature carved into it. Upon closer inspection, she realized the door was actually ajar.

  Beyond the door, Cora found a vast gathering room. Rounded sconces that resembled transparent turtle shells dotted the coved walls and cast an easy yellow light throughout the space, illuminating the cloud-cushioned couches scattered all around. Cora imagined the chamber filled with Cloudenians, laughing and drinking hot chocolate, enjoying one another’s company and conversation. She flopped down on one of the overstuffed couches, melting into its soft fabric.

  Cora’s eyelids quickly became heavy-feeling as the warmth of the room enveloped her. She felt herself drifting off to sleep just as she spied a set of gold-framed pictures on the wall opposite her. Curiosity reawakened her and she climbed off the couch and made her way toward them.

  Upon closer inspection, Cora realized that the pictures were elegant oil paintings of four different men—each dressed in uniforms with lapels bearing the Cloudenian crest. Below each painting a name was engraved. She smiled at the frame that read “Finnegan Thomas,” marveling at her younger, handsome father.

  Moving to the neighboring frame, Cora found it inscribed with the name, “Barnsworth Celius.” The plate bearing Celius’s name was noticeably different from the others. Rather than gold, his was made of silver and it sat slightly askew. She noticed a thin sliver of gold peaking from beneath and leaned in to get a closer look at it just as a bright green tree frog inched up the frame. When she moved toward him, the frog snapped at her. Cora jumped away, eyes wide and exclaimed “Jeez!” before warily moving to the next set of paintings.

  The final two paintings were of men that Cora didn’t recognize. The first man, “Finnegan Arthur,” looked to be in his forties and his features revealed an obvious relation to Thomas. He had vibrant rust-red hair and eyes as blue as the ocean. A silver crown marked by the Cloudenian crest sat atop Arthur’s head. Cora surmised that he was probably her grandfather, and Clouden’s previous king.