Cora gathered her breath to alert the others of her concern but was interrupted by a spine-tingling shriek. She whipped around on Orion’s back to find Serene ducking a torrent of arrows that were streaming from the valley’s edge. The gnarly-faced man had now appeared in full view and was slinging shots as fast as he could draw his bow. He was accompanied by a similarly unpleasant-looking group of fellows, all on horseback and bearing arms. Their steeds were jet-black and Cora could see an eerie steam rising from their flanks. The group was advancing on them at an alarming rate, bellowing angrily as they rode. Though the volume of their approach was great, Cora thought she heard the previously camouflaged man demanding that they “return Patrick!”
“Orion! Go! Get the princess to safety!” Thomas commanded.
It all happened so fast that it felt surreal, as if Cora was watching the whole attack play out on a television show. Orion was suddenly cantering, his wings beating ferociously against her thighs, as they ascended into the sky. The battle scene disappeared below them and the rush of the wind against her ears drowned out all remnants of the cries that accompanied it.
“Orion! What are you doing?! GO BACK!” Cora shouted, suddenly regaining her senses along with a jolt of adrenaline.
“Have no fear, my sweet dear, they’ll be bringin’ up the rear.”
True to Orion’s claim, Cora spied the silhouettes of two more Pegasuses emerging behind them. Thomas and Serene looked relieved but disheveled nonetheless.
Orion seemed quite proud of himself and turned his head to wink at Cora. “Pegasuses can help you escape on the sly…’cause those wingless, dull horses can’t fly!”
“Okay, all right, you’re right,” she breathlessly countered. “But keep your eye on the road!”
Just as soon as Orion’s hooves touched down on the castle’s cobbled entrance, Cora leapt from his back and into her father’s arms. He held her tightly and stroked her hair, whispering unintelligible yet comforting coos in her ear. Serene, who set down last, rushed over to the pair and flung herself into the family heap. She was shuddering.
Cora was crying too and holding on to them more tightly than she realized. “Why did you have Orion take me away? I wanted to help!”
“We lost you once,” Thomas soothed. “We won’t do it again.” He paused now and drew her tear-stained face from his chest. Cora noticed that he had blood on his lapel, which had dripped down from a gash on his cheek. He held her back and looked into her eyes intensely. “Now you know why we don’t trust the Treinbaulms.”
“Then that was—”
“It was Barnibus, Patrick’s father. And he meant to kill me,” Thomas said, pointing to the wound on his face where an arrow had grazed him.
Serene’s tender, wand-like fingers rose to Thomas’s face and caressed the air surrounding his injury. “My love,” she breathed with a sigh.
“It’s nothing. Only a reminder.” He looked again to Cora, who immediately felt guilty for any fuss she’d given him about why she was not allowed to interact with Patrick.
Cora bid Orion good-bye and promised to sneak him every manner of sweets she could over the next few days as repayment for his bravery. She could already hear him chattering to his stable-mates about his now-legendary chivalry and cunning as the trio of Finnegans made their way back up to the castle.
Cora resigned herself not to trouble her parents with any discussion about the day’s events and made a determined effort to draw their attention away from what had happened by suggesting an endeavor they could all look favorably upon: a good meal. With Thomas’s cheek mended, they all shuffled up the corridor to the dining hall with rumbling bellies. They stopped briefly in the Great Room and took pause to relish the Tree of Life and Balance. After all she’d seen that day, Cora felt particularly tied to the tree and looked upon it with new eyes.
As she stared intently at the twinkling trunk, Cora spied the figures of a man and a woman climbing the circular stairway that hugged it. They were nearly two hundred feet up when each set out onto a different limb. The woman only walked a short way on the rickety path that traced her branch before reaching up to pluck something from above it. The man, however, explored his limb much further before settling upon a similar object and then returning to the woman, who waited patiently at the base of the trunk. Reunited, the pair linked hands and headed back down the stairway, swinging their arms as they walked.
“By golly,” Thomas whispered, squinting at the pair. “I think that’s Celius and Beatrice.”
Serene craned closer and made a similarly pensive expression. “I think you’re right!”
The king and queen were grinning as Cora asked, “What are they up to?”
“They’re selecting the seeds from their family limbs,” Serene warmly responded, never once looking away from the pair as they continued to descend from the tree. “They’re going to plant the seeds and start a family.” The queen beamed, her eyes suddenly sparkling.
Cora smiled as she remembered Celius’s face lighting up just like Serene’s when he was asked about the beginning of a family, then tiptoed off into the dining hall behind her parents, who softly called out that this was “a private matter” and they “ought to leave.”
Fifteen: Trouble Down Below
Cora awoke the following morning, long before anyone else in the castle. She marveled at the silken ceiling as it rippled with a soft, steady pace like waves in a calm sea. It seemed that magic surrounded her at every turn here in Clouden. And yet Cora’s thoughts drifted to an image that, despite her best efforts, she was unable to keep from her mind—an image of Patrick.
It was always with a twinge of guilt that her daydreams shifted in his direction and yet she couldn’t escape the memory of his face. She’d begun to compare these fantasies to ones that she experienced in the past when Mrs. Catlin placed her on diets. She could nearly hear Mrs. Catlin’s words ringing in her head: “Just think of something else, something you ought to be thinking about.”
“You ought to be thinking of them,” Cora said out loud to herself, as she recalled her promise in the Rose Room to look after the welfare of her Backworlds parents. She pushed herself out of bed, shuddering as she tiptoed across the chilly translucent floor to ready herself for the day.
Having been down to the Rose Room only once, Cora found the entrance a bit more difficult to locate on her own. It took two wrong turns and a handful of grumbles before she managed to find the correct passageway. When she arrived at the intricately carved door to the Rose Room and descended the slate staircase, she found that her memory of the place had not done it justice.
A quick scan of the walls and ceiling revealed that the room itself was a globe, apparently in keeping with the theme of the Rose Glass itself. The vines that lined it now shimmered with a gleam of stardust and as she crept closer to inspect them, Cora smelled a sweet perfume drifting from their buds. She breathed it in deeply and noticed a light purple haze, much like that she’d seen in the Invisivator, drift from the ivy and upward through her nostrils.
The entire room seemed to breathe magic, and Cora imagined she was inside the very belly of some ancient fairy-tale beast, wherein all the secrets of both Clouden and The Backworlds lay in wait. She could almost sense the presence of the Rose Glass just behind her, a treasure trove calling for its key.
Cora sat down beside the Rose Glass and regarded it with curiosity. It reminded her of a crystal ball a fortune teller might hover over, conjuring visions and predicting futures. However, the Rose Glass was much grander in scale and seemed more real and true than anything Cora would’ve encountered in a circus tent. She traced her finger along the glass’s cool, smooth surface and found a different sensation than she had expected. Her finger dipped into the ball’s face as if it were water in a still lake. Cora closed her eyes and felt as though she was floating on the sea, skimming her fingertips along its surface. When she opened them again, she felt refreshed, rejuvenated, and powerful. She peered hopefully into the Rose
Glass, ready to see her parents.
“I’d like to see the Catlins of Harborville, Wisconsin,” she said.
In a whoosh of motion, the glass pierced through the Clouden ground cover, through the milky blue sky and the very heavens themselves. All around her Cora heard the swell of the roses humming in rhythm with the pace of the glass as it searched out her Backworlds parents and projected an image of them, still asleep in their bed, tucked neatly and properly in their too-perfect house.
Cora marveled at their appearances. Mrs. Catlin’s previously unkempt hair was now bound tightly in bright pink rollers and swept up in a hairnet. Her flawlessly manicured nails were clenched around the bedcovers, as if they might become disheveled without her constant, suffocating grip. Mr. Catlin lay just beside her and appeared to be sleeping in a state of unrest. His otherwise-handsome face was crinkled, his eyes clenched. His features were garbled with lines of worry and prolonged sleep deprivation. He tossed and turned in the bed, bumping briefly into Mrs. Catlin and bringing a look of displeasure to her previously emotionless face. She elbowed him sharply and rolled over onto her side with a disagreeable “humph.”
Startled awake by his wife’s annoyed mumbling, Mr. Catlin’s eyes sprang open. Previously bright blue, they were now riddled with bloodshot veins. He lay in the bed for some time, just staring at the ceiling while the veins grew a more angry shade of crimson. After a few minutes passed he finally sat up and swung his feet to the icy hardwood floor. Numbness appeared to overcome every part of Cora’s forgotten father as he methodically slipped on his robe and slippers and made his way downstairs.
In the kitchen, Mr. Catlin prepared himself a bowl of oatmeal—a dish that Cora had never seen him consume voluntarily. She watched as he bypassed the brown sugar and honey that might have made it palatable and settled down at the table. He probed at the bowl for a few brief moments, obviously suspecting it was as unpleasant as Cora knew it must be, but eventually pushed it aside and looked toward his briefcase. When he tiptoed toward the case, and pulled out a package of pink snowballs, Cora couldn’t help but smile.
“Good ol’ Dad,” she said aloud.
But the pastry did not seem to soothe Mr. Catlin. With a sigh he placed a lone snowball back into the package and then returned it to his briefcase.
“Oh, Dad,” Cora breathed in a low whisper. Impossible as it seemed, it was as if Mr. Catlin could hear Cora’s soft reply as he looked skyward. From the angle of his gaze, it appeared as if Cora’s weary father was staring directly at her and for a brief moment, she felt like he was. His eyes were imploring as loudly as a thousand cries, and it broke Cora’s heart to know that she was unable to comfort him. She shifted her weight back, looking away from the glass for a moment as if gasping for air amid the suffocating weight of her worry. When she returned to look in on him again, Mr. Catlin was up from the table and on his way back upstairs.
Deciding that she had seen more than she could bear, Cora stepped away from the Rose Glass. She felt suddenly cold and lonely. She needed a friend.
“Where’s Motley when you need him?” she whispered, imagining the lazy dog still curled up in his warm bed.
Out of the corner of her eye Cora noticed the Rose Glass shifting from the Catlin’s kitchen and rushing past rows of houses, open fields, and finally a familiar-looking wooded pathway. The glass came to rest on a massive knotty oak that Cora immediately recognized as the North Woods Invisivator. Its door was ajar and stardust was drifting from inside.
Cora scanned the scene, wondering what the glass’s reason was for showing her this. The woods were still and silent, except for the distant chirps of a blue jay. Cora listened to his song until it was interrupted by the sound of twigs snapping under the weight of someone’s feet. The commotion was coming directly behind the Invisivator and Cora could make out the shadow of an animal inching closer and closer. Its gait was familiar to her and just as Cora got a fix on the outline she realized why the Rose Glass had brought her here.
“Motley!” she blurted. “But why is he—” Cora was abruptly struck silent by the sight of a man entering the scene. His every feature was shrouded in the darkness of the forest, but Cora could’ve recognized him anywhere.
“Patrick.” She gasped.
Motley was still sniffing around the Invisivator, likely looking for a good spot to lift his leg, and didn’t see the predator lurking just a few feet away. Meanwhile, Patrick was studying Motley’s every move with a malicious look in his eye. As Motley’s nose led him closer to Patrick’s hiding place, Cora’s stomach doubled in knots. Motley was getting too close!
Just as Cora’s heart felt as if it may burst, Patrick leapt from the shadows, tackling Motley.
“I’ve got you now!” Patrick yelled as he pinned Motley to the ground.
“Oh, my God!” Cora’s hands were shaking. “I’ve got to help Motley!”
Sixteen: Rumble in the North Woods
It wasn’t until Cora had raced all the way up the corridor from the Rose Room, through the Great Room, and was nearly out the castle doors that she realized she had no idea where she was going. She collapsed with a defeated growl in the castle’s entryway and scratched her head in a futile attempt to stimulate memories of her arrival in Clouden. Only vague visions of billowy white clouds and a cottage surfaced.
A sensation of defeat crept over Cora like a slow moving fog until it had engulfed her. She started up at the vast cathedral ceiling of the entryway, feeling helpless and small. Her eyes traced the curvature of the great archways leading from the ceiling and came to rest upon a massive Clouden banner. Cora studied its intricacies, the delicate beadwork and bright array of colors. She’d never looked at it so closely before and was taken aback by the work that had obviously been put forth to create it. Even from a distance of over a hundred feet, Cora could sense its craftsmanship was a labor of love. She looked with fondness at the pegasuses that reared up on either side of the Clouden crest; their wings spread wide, and recalled the new friend she’d made in Orion.
“That’s it!” Cora was on her feet and out the castle doors. She sped toward the stable entrance, eager to find her noble steed.
The excitable pegasus was an agreeable accomplice. His enthusiasm for adventure reminded Cora of Motley and she smiled in spite of herself as he gloated when they exited the stables.
“The princess calls at this early hour
for a steed who is swift and full of power.
’Tis Orion she seeks
with his wings so sleek.
To fly her away, to dangerous lands
so that courage will be at her very hands.
And so now I must go
though you’ll miss me, I know.
But put all your sorrow and worries away
for Orion is off to save the day!”
The sun was just rising above the clouds and it lit Orion’s coat with a shimmer that resembled morning dew. His mane rippled with the light wind, like a still lake being caressed by a wake-up call from nature. He was magnificent and he knew it. “So where are we going? Can’t start without knowing,” he asked, giving her a flirty wink.
“To The Backworlds!” Cora declared.
“You want to go where? Certainly we wouldn’t dare!”
“Yes, The Backworlds,” Cora repeated, this time with more confidence.
Orion backed toward the stables, his legs more unsure with each step. “I…I can’t go to that place with you. They’d chop me in bits, use my hooves to make glue!”
Cora slid from Orion’s back and made her way around to look him in the eye. “Please Orion,” she pleaded with him. “My best friend in the whole world is down there and he’s in a lot of trouble.”
“Danger, you say? In what way?” She could sense his fear subsiding.
“A Treinbaulm has my friend Motley. I saw them in the Rose Glass and they were fighting. Oh please, Orion, I’m so scared for him. I’ve got to save him!”
Orion reverted to his familiar lofty ex
pression as his chest inflated, nearly doubling in girth. “That filthy Treinbaulm scum; we’ll make him turn tail and run!” he declared, leaning down so that Cora could climb on.
The descent from Clouden was rocky at best. Orion confessed mid-flight that he’d never been to The Backworlds before and wasn’t entirely certain where he was going. Luckily, they were able to locate the Invisivator and follow it toward the North Woods, where Cora had last seen Motley and Patrick.
The moment she set foot on Backworlds ground, Cora could feel the unpleasant sensation of her old body returning. Her beautiful, strong figure disappeared beneath plump flesh and in the space of a minute the little girl she’d tried to forget was back.
After having lived in Clouden for a few weeks, Cora returned to find The Backworlds more distasteful than ever. The sweet smells of budding flowers that perfumed the air in Clouden were replaced with those of rotting vegetation and dirt. The ground was rough and crawling with insects.
Orion hopped and squawked across the ruddy earth floor. “Where did all the white stuff go? Please tell me, princess, if you know. And what pray tell is this foul stuff? It’s full of bugs and way too tough!”
Cora assured her friend that the dirt was entirely normal in The Backworlds and Orion conceded and did his best to keep in good spirits. He likened the forest to the Unicorn Valley, though both of them knew the comparison was a stretch at best.
“Come on, we’ve got to find them,” Cora directed, concerned that Patrick may have already hurt Motley or traveled too far for her to catch up. As she passed the spot where she’d seen them fighting, Cora could make out the evidence of a struggle. The grass was worn down, and crushed leaves and branches littered the ground.
Cora and Orion had traveled about a half mile into the forest when Cora heard the faint sound of a voice emerging in the distance. It was accompanied by the sound of twigs cracking beneath the weight of feet. Orion quickened his pace and in just moments the two were close enough to make out some of what was being said.
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