The Auburn Prince

by Adam Zmarzlinski

  “Wonderful,” Perow said, smiling.

  “Lord Ecilám clipped the creature’s wings,” a raspy bird-like voice echoed from within one of the bühos.

  “Thank you,” Perow said. “You may go now.”

  The creatures bowed and walked out onto the balcony.

  “You’ve been quite elusive,” Perow spoke, grabbing the cage by a lager loop at its top. “We’ve searched for a Xis part, like you, for years. Blind we were to the fact that the Queen’s friend was but such a part. Having been enslaved to the Other’s knowledge did distort our vision to the obvious.”

  “I sensed an abhorrent presence around you all those years ago when we first met,” the canary said. “I should’ve acted upon my senses and told Gavrella to behead you there and then.”

  “But you didn’t,” Perow said with a smile. Chagrined, the canary glanced down at its feet as Perow stepped out onto the balcony, placing the cage on a decorative stone table. After observing the canary’s pied feet, he turned to face the fields and woods surrounding the capital. Off in the distance, two silhouettes of large birds hung in the sky.

  “Do you know what lies west of here?” Perow asked.

  “Mundialis,” the canary said.

  “And beyond that?”

  “Mirgoza.”

  “Exactly, the Great Sea. Some say that it’s infinite, that no living man has seen its immeasurable shores. As the saying goes, no man can conquer the sea, not even tame it. Do you know how many lands there are in this world of ours?”

  “There are twenty dreams,” the canary said.

  “Yes,” Perow smiled. “There are the five great dreams, eight lesser ones including Mirgoza, three shadow dreams, one shattered, one holy and the two of imprisonment and madness. And among them there lie hundreds of thousands kingdoms, countries, lands, duchies, voidships, provinces and states. And in them still there sit great mountains, deep woods, winding rivers, beautiful beaches, wondrous lakes and lonely deserts, and cities, villages and hamlets. Trillions of creatures and beasts and men living in crypts they call homes.”

  “What is the purpose of this vague geography lesson?” the canary asked.

  “There is a vast world out there,” Perow said. “No one person has seen it all: not the depths of the oceans or the heights of great peaks, not the halls of the hellish Britgar Prison, or the wonder hidden in F’Quaree’s Glimmering Gardens, no one but the one.”

  “The thing that you speak of is not a person and should never be addressed as such,” the canary warned. “It’s a shapeless thing that needs to stay slumbering where it lies now.”

  “This thing—

  “Call it what it is,” the canary interrupted. “The Other.”

  Perow smiled. “Yes, the Other,” he said. “It knows everything. There lies unlimited potential within its shapelessness.”

  “And you wish to tame it? Harness it?”

  Perow’s eyes flashed white and he turned to face the canary.

  “You mentioned feeling an odd presence around me,” Perow said, sitting down in a chair beside the table. “What did you feel?”

  “During the Imprisonment War, just prior to the departure of the Earth man and woman to the Valley of the Other to seal the vile shapelessness, you appeared, as if out of nowhere bearing the secret weapon, the Chaplet. Thinking back now, I recall that you never touched it with your bare hands; always you held it gloved. With your arrival, I felt a surge of something horrid and that feeling grew when the büho’s offensive upon this city began. You became ill but not due to a disease but because some part of you, deep down, I dare not call it a soul, became ill. It was an overwhelming illness of envy and greed of power. You are not you, Perow. I don’t know who you are, but you’re not the man sitting before me.”

  “We are glad that you’re finally in our possession,” Perow teased with a smile. “Our plan can move forward.”

  “You wish to tear the seal upon Mundialis, is that it?” the canary said. “You wish to squander the lives lost during the War? You wish to free it? You’ve no idea of its power, no idea of the horror that it is, but I do, I’ve seen it’s might. I saw as it descended from the mountains upon the city of Llares. I saw it reduce that beautiful town to cinder. I saw men fight for days and nights in an attempt to protect their families. I saw women shielding their children when the fire rained down. I saw those children at a loss, confused by the mindless violence thrust upon their innocent lives, their faces tangled by the shadow. I remember the wild beasts that fled the city: the river of rats that flowed out, the dogs and cats that jumped from the high walls and birds that blocked out the sun only for their flesh to rain back down upon the streets. I saw the bühos descend from the sky, their screeches and shrieks. The people, they fought and they died. They gave it their all and just as victory was at hand, it came. Not the appendages, not the clouds of night, not the long arms, but it.”

  Rainbow tears ran down the canary’s feathers.

  “You’ve never seen it, the True Other. You’ve only seen the shadows and the appendages in the sky. You’ve never felt the True Other: the hate, the terror, the uncontrollable disgust that flows over all of you. You’ve never felt utter sorrow fueled by pure self-odium. The Other never killed a single person in Llares. Once it came, once it poured down those stone peaks and slid through the cracks in the walls, men turned on one another. Fathers killed sons. Husbands killed wives. Mothers killed babes. Children killed mothers. Fear, prejudice, violence—all those things that we tuck away deep inside, escaped. The Other, it just came along and reminded the people of Llares that they have it in them. I was there, Perow. It made me do things I regret.”

  A shallow pool of tears filled the base of the cage.

  “Then it descended upon the villages and lowlands. People did its dirty work, and this land was all terror, all loss until the Earth couple came. They brought back hope. Then you arrived with that Chaplet. You handed us victory. I know because I was there at the Imprisonment. After the bühos retreated from the capital, I flew to join the couple and their guide. I saw mountains crumbled and forests turn to ash. I saw two people give their lives to stop it, to put it asleep. Love could not destroy it and you think your logic and reason will? Perhaps, you think you can tame it? You are dealing with the Other, a thing indestructible, insubordinate. You are dealing with a tangible abyss that no amount of light can illuminate.”

  Perow smiled. “You do not know what you’re talking about,” he said. “You speak of understanding absurdity through the prism of history.”

  “I speak of what happened,” the canary said, “of the thing you cannot tame. Do you understand or have you gone insane?”

  “Sanity’s the most widespread of mental illnesses,” Perow said, “and, fortunately, it’s one that I have yet to succumb to.”

  “You pursue the impossible,” the canary argued. “Marcus Aurelius, an Earth man, wrote that to pursue the impossible is madness just as it is impossible for bad men not to act in character. Someone will figure out your charade.”

  Perow burst into laughter, black tears running down his cheeks. “You are clueless,” he said, “speaking nonsense about good and evil. Our plans lie beyond those false concepts.”

  A black tear slid off his cheek, falling onto his black suit where it fizzled, burning a hole through the clothes until it reached his skin, vanishing in a puff of color.

  “You have much spirit,” he continued, “and much power. Enough even to tear a hole in the shroud surrounding Mundialis. Your blood, along with that of the doomed Fox Prince, is what we need to begin changing this world, bettering it.”

  A low scream echoes from inside the King Consort’s chamber and a blackness stretched out across the ground from within. The arrival of the Rider’s shadow startled both the canary and the King Consort.

  “We found him,” the shadow spoke. “The fox and the girl. Soon it will be finished and that which is three can become one again. We will become I and I will become me.”


  Perow swallowed nervously and the canary finally realized that they did not want to free or tame the Other but, instead, do something much worse, become it, become fear itself.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Shadows Come Knocking

  “Are you awake?” someone asked.

  His eyes flickered. It was night. He tilted his head. A great pain pulsated from the gash behind his left ear. He looked up to see a girl wearing a sunny smile. “Thank God you’re alive,” she said. A beagle appeared and gave him a wet lick on the face. “You’re so stupid,” it chided. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

  The fox sighed.

  “Now that’s a proper thank you for tending his wound, isn’t it?” Clementine said.

  “I wanted to help,” he spoke. “When the poachers came, I lost you. I tried to smell you out, but for some reason I couldn’t, then I heard the rumbling of trees. I arrived late, glimpsing the three of you being led away. I followed, keeping close, looking for an opportunity to free you, then you went inside those tunnels and I lost you again. If it wasn’t for that odd man…”

  “Odd man?” Clementine interrupted.

  “He literarily came out of the shadow, a creepy chap in a shiny suit. After directing me toward the mill, we went our separate ways. I waited until I thought the coast was clear, but I failed…”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Fox,” Clementine encouraged. “We’ll figure something out.”

  The fox glanced at the floor. “How?” he retorted. “We’re in a cage. We’re already doomed.” Tears streamed down his cheeks and he seemed to grow smaller.

  “I wish I was human again,” he began. “I wish things were like they used to be: happy, lazy and pleasant. I wish for all of this to be a dream. I…” He looked up at them, his eyes larger than normal. “As I went through this tunnel of hyssops, something extraordinary happened. I saw everything all at once and many of my memories returned. I had a fiancé. Her name was Delicata. I loved her. She was my everything. I…I met her at a carnival. We danced and we laughed. I kissed her under a street lamp. I loved her. I love her still. I…I never felt something like that. Love, you see, is like a collision of two universes, once they merge, an all-new creation emerges: an infinite bliss, an ever-expanding contentment, all contained in the eyes of your lover. I felt a new world awaken in me.”

  The fox stood up, his color flared and he grew larger.

  “She was the air I took in, a gust of sea wind that filled the lungs of my being giving each one of my breaths purpose. Her voice was a symphony. Her touch was like that of morning sunlight, it was radiance, it gifted color to the soul. If someone but asked me to explain heaven to them, I would say, her. How do I explain to you the unique love that I had for her, the love towards a stranger, because that is what she once was, a stranger. With all her flaws, she was perfection embodied. She did this subtle thing, feigning anger she’d frown but the edges of her lips forced themselves upwards, letting me know, I love you still, even in this temporary rage.”

  The fox’s eyes grew darker; the green began to fade and a flicker of flame peeked in.

  “She acted and encouraged others to pursue courage, compassion and change. To see her hurt, hurt me. Her parents died and my mother followed suit. At the funeral, I squeezed her gentle hand and in her eyes, in the depths of them, there bloomed an unspoken love, a lotus of affection. I know of no one who made me feel so many things at once, no one whom I looked at and felt present in one moment infinitely. When I was with her, I felt beyond time, beyond relative existence. I looked at her and everything stopped. I could not get enough of her smile. I’ve not seen anything quite as beautiful as when those lips curled up, parting to reveal her white teeth, as her eyes lit up like two moons on that heavenly face of hers. I’ve seen all the wonders of the world in her. Why did it end? Why is it, through all the memories of her I still possess, that all I have left is pain?”

  His eyes glazed over in flame and he grew larger yet again, doubling in height.

  “I left her there. I should’ve stayed and died with her. I…do you know how it feels to abandon someone you love? It’s the most horrid of feelings, it’s as if you’re being torn into a hundred pieces, yet held together still by the memory of that person. It can happen at any given moment, the memory vividly forces itself back into your mind, chipping away at your sanity. The more I speak of her, the more life I give her memory, but it’s all gone now…”

  “You cannot turn back time,” Nir said. “Life can only be lived forward and in this voyage where there lie valleys you shall also find a hundred wondrous peaks.”

  The fox looked from Nir to Mika to Clementine. “What sort of soul do I have after all?” he asked. “Is it that of a child? A boy? A woman? A man? A despot? A beast of the field? A wild animal?” Clementine observed his eyes as he finished quoting Meditations. She saw the fire fade, the color of his fur dull and his size lessen. She watched him and understood all too well the dread meandering through his mind. Often, she too felt the consuming dismay, the worm of the silent and featureless unknown burrow through her confidence. As he, she too grasped at the straws of her own identity, hopeful to pull at something that held root in the earth.

  The fox lay down and placed his head on the floor. Rivulets of tears trickled silently across his cheeks. Mika walked up to and, with her back to his belly, curled up beside him.

  It began to rain. The droplets, tapping the roof shingles like a lacrimoso wood cymbal, enchanted everyone into a soothing state of calm. Bruto and Sordos, who decided against distilling the fox’s color until Ciego returned, lay silently in their bunks. While the occupants of the cage slept, Clementine stayed up and, while mentally constructing an escape plan, watched the fox and the hound curl up into each other—their color blossoming, growing in hue. As lightning flashed outside, the door to the mill opened then closed with a loud bang. Everyone awoke to see Ciego walk up to the table in the middle of the mill.

  “I sent a message of the magic cloth to a few potential buyers,” Ciego said. “Only the lame dragon, Fafnir, replied. He’ll give us fifteen sacks of gold for it and, get ready for this, he will get us out of Mundialis.” The poachers were awe struck. “We’re getting out boys.”

  “What ‘bout them?” Bruto pointed.

  “He doesn’t need them,” Ciego said. “So we might as well start distilling.”

  Sordos smiled. “Let’s start with da dwag,” he said in a high-pitched voice.

  “No,” Clementine and the fox said simultaneously.

  “What do we have here?” Ciego said, examining the fox.

  “Tried to save ‘em, he did,” Bruto said.

  “Let’s start with the dog then,” Ciego said with a smile.

  Bruto grabbed the keys while the others drew their blades. Clementine tried to keep Mika safe but the men shoved her back and Sordos grabbed the beagle by the neck. She gave a loud squeal. The fox attempted to bite the poacher but Bruto struck him on the forehead with the blunt side of his blade, cutting the skin and blinding the fox with his own blood. After retreating from the cage, they strapped the beagle to a table.

  “Please don’t,” Mika begged, shaking in fear.

  “Don’t worry, dear. It’ll all be over real quick,” Bruto said. Sordos grabbed one of the needles connected to the first cylinder and stuck it in the beagle’s paw. She gave off a loud yelp and color began flowing from her into the clay and wood pulp.

  “Stop!” Clementine yelled, Nir watching tearfully from her shoulder.

  Sordos grabbed the syringe helmet. He adjusted the valves on it. “’ere we go, puppy,” he said dangling it above Mika’s head. Someone knocked at the door and everyone turned to look.

  “Is the dragon ‘ere?” Bruto asked Ciego.

  “No, he’s not supposed to get here ‘till morning,” Ciego said.

  There came another knock on the door, this one louder, harder. The poachers dropped the hoses and pulled out their blades.

 
“Get outta here,” Bruto yelled. “This here is private property!”

  Splintering into a hundred pieces, the door burst as an arrow flew in. Quick to react, Bruto sidestepped it and the arrow struck one of the straps restraining Mika. From out of the darkness, illuminated by the mill’s candle light, the Pale Rider entered.

  “It’s him, my fiancé’s murderer,” the fox said, his teeth flashed and his neck tensed. Clementine felt her stomach drop.

  “Who the hell are ya?” Bruto asked. The Pale Rider ignored him, taking in the mill.

  “You have something of ours,” Ecilám said and the three poachers laughed at him.

  “Get outta here before we gut you clean,” Ciego said.

  Two armored guards stepped out from behind the Pale Rider.

  “The fox,” Ecilám said and his men obeyed, moving toward the cage. The poachers were quick to engage them. As the men exchanged blade blows, Mika pulled out the needle from her paw and, in a few wiggles, freed herself from the remaining straps. By the time she slid under the table, the Pale Rider’s men lay still on the floor.

  “For all their armor,” Ciego began, “they just weren’t very good fighters, were they?”

  Ecilám grabbed the remaining arrow from his quiver and shot it at Ciego who blocked it with his blade. The arrow ricocheted and hit a nearby lantern, which fell and exploded in a fireball. The force of the Rider’s shot was such that Ciego fell backwards, hitting one of the boiling cylinders, which overturned and crashed down onto Bruto, silencing him forever. The remaining poachers charged the Rider. Bending in unnatural ways, he dodged each of their blade swipes with ease. Seizing on the commotion, Mika snatched the cage key off Bruto’s belt and ran to Clementine.

  “Take it,” she told her. In moments, they were free from the cage and entering the growing inferno. The flames, nipping at the ceiling, engulfed the side of the mill and blocked off the entrance.