“Bring them food,” the Headmother said, snapping her fingers, and three men ran out of the building in haste.
“Yes, um,” Nir continued. “You see we travel to see the Soundsmith and—
“Where can we find him?” the fox interrupted.
Lilita ignored the both of them, focusing on the girl. “Amazing,” she said. “Your color is beyond heavenly. Its making animals talk like in fairy tales.”
“They aren’t animals,” Clementine said. “Just people that—
“Finally!” the Headmother yelled as the three men returned. They rushed around the table placing bread, gray meat, and water before them. “Eat,” Lilita said, pointing at the food. “Eat.”
“Thank you,” Clementine said and the four companions ate in awkward silence, the crowd watching them closely. “Mmm, this is really good,” Clementine lied. “Yes, really good,” the fox said, trying not to retch. The food was flavorless and without texture, comparable to paper mush. However, being quite hungry, they did not complain and finished it rather quickly.
“Delicious, huh?” The Headmother asked.
“Yes,” Clementine began. “Thank you, we are—
“You look just like your parents,” Lilita interceded.
“What did you say?” Clementine asked.
“You have your father’s eyes and your mother’s ears,” the Headmother said. “You are their daughter.”
“You…you know my parents?”
From out of a pocket within her many robes, the Headmother pulled out a photo and placed it on the table. “What color there remains, what love they imprinted on this picture, it’s kept this village alive,” tears welled up in the old woman’s eyes. “Because of it, because of the color, we’ve been able to grow what little food we can. We’ve been able to retain some sanity. For all these years, their love has kept us fed, kept us hopeful.”
Clementine’s eyes filled with tears as she looked down at a photo in which her parents stood among a group of healthy young locals, Lilita among them. A glimmer of color shimmered in their clothing. Their eyes were vibrant with greens, blues and browns. Everyone looked happy. Clementine could not stem her emotions and tears cascaded down her cheeks. She touched the photo and instantaneously, the room filled with such bright color that everyone had to shield their eyes from the potency of its hue.
“The girl,” the people whispered.
Lilita’s mouth hung wide open.
Her companions were awestruck.
“Why do you have this photo?” Clementine asked.
Chapter Seventeen
The Olm
The earth shook and a screech pierced the air. The Other was on its way.
“Your parents gave this photo to us, to the town,” Lilita began. “Before they ventured forth into the caverns below the Great Mountain. The woman cartographer knew the way and Türul—one of the many great rainbow birds—knew of the dangers that lay ahead, and so they went with them. By descending the slopes, they gave this world renewed hope, but they knew not that it was all a trap. The Other, the journey, all of it was a ruse by the thing that escaped…They went in. No one knows what happened next. That photo you’re holding, its color fades in and out. They fade in and out. That photo is a physical reminder of the unseen magic of sacrifice that your parents left behind.”
With each of the Headmother’s words, Clementine’s radiance grew more powerful until it climaxed and everyone’s hue began to return. The room and the people lit up in vibrancy. Their gray clothes became kaleidoscopic and Lilita’s headdress shone with a hundred different colors. Their faces became fuller, their skin healthier and their eyes sparked with a renewed sense of wonder. The fox, the hound and the gecko grew halos of color. They grew warm, jubilant and awash in such powerful emotion that tears of joy welled up in their eyes.
Lilita leapt across the table, grabbed Clementine by the head and kissed each one of her cheeks a dozen times. Tears burst out of the old woman’s eyes and fell like raindrops upon the floor. The crowd became awash with bliss and also shed tears. Husbands hugged wives, mothers kissed their children and strangers became friends.
“A great woman walked into this village today and brought with her redemption,” the Headmother said. “Oh, blessed child, oh, kindness embodied, you carry in you more compassion then even your parents.”
Overwhelmed, rainbow tears ran down Clementine’s cheeks. “Tell me more,” she said. “Why were they here? How long ago? Did they mention me?”
Lilita cupped Clementine’s face in her work worn hands and said, “My dear girl, the power of the human spirit that ran through your parents, it’s unexplainable, indefinable and infinite. In the eye of my youth, men and women who wore kindness on their sleeve were epitomes of humanity. But as I grew older I became enchanted by those of intelligence, wealth and power. They became my role models, my stars to pursue, but now, when I am but an old woman and can reflect on the life that I’ve lived, I know, without doubt, that what I knew in childhood was always right. It is not intelligence, but kindness that makes the world worth fighting for. That is why your parents came here. They understood that a house built of gold bricks holds no value in its halls if you cannot call it home.”
“I don’t understand,” Clementine said.
“I wish I could properly explain everything to you,” Lilita said. “But once you’ve lived in the gray for as long as we have, it is difficult to speak with feeling, with confidence about anything. I don’t remember how long ago they sat here with us. How long ago we shared in tea, cake or even a laugh. Could have been days or weeks or months, perhaps even years. Time stands so still here in the gray and with the great rainbow birds gone, everything is faceless, nameless and ordinary. Only the Soundsmith knows for sure, only he is aware of the time that’s past through.”
“That is whom we venture to see,” the fox said.
Lilita turned to him and spoke, “I do not know you—a stranger clothed in trickster’s garb. The fox is a villain, the fables say. While some ancient tales see in you a clandestine and noble being, a celestial guide through the underground ruin that is life. Which one are you? Do you journey with this girl as a guide or is there a sinister purpose to your trek? Perhaps ignorance is your map and you voyage unaware that kindness embodied has led you here?”
“He is my friend,” Clementine assured. “They all are. I do not like you speaking ill of them.”
“I only question him because your parents traveled with friends too” Lilita said and pointed at the picture. Walking off the frame, an outline of a person, with its face turned away, appeared at the photo’s edge. “This person, whose name is lost to me, an ally of your parents turned out to be nothing more but a clothed blade, a nail among a soup called friendship.”
A great sound boomed in the near distance. The earth shook and the color of the room and its people rushed back into Clementine. Only a smidge of blue and green hues remained in the picture.
“Ita fit aluid!” a booming voice shook the building.
“The Other has come,” Lilita said. “It’s here for you.” The building shook and something pressed against its walls, bending them inwards. A feeling of heavy melancholy descended upon the room followed by a ruthless desire for vengeance and fury. The crowd began twitching en masse, hysteria reigned supreme and instead of escaping outside, the people began to fight and bite one another.
“Follow me,” Lilita said, grabbing the photo and crawling under the table.
Clementine gave the fox and the hound a panicked glance. “We have to go,” she said, scooping up the gecko in her hand. They ducked under and followed the Headmother down the length of the table. All the while, several people grabbed at Clementine. While she tried to wiggle out of their grasp, those stubborn enough to hold on met with a foot to the face. Among the madness, a gaunt man clutched Mika by the paw, but soon enough his hand enjoyed the sharpness of the fox’s teeth.
“This is the Other’s work,” Nir said as a man and wo
man were wrestling on the ground, biting at one another. “We have to get out of here before it drains our color, before we become like them.”
At the far end of the hall, Lilita opened a hatch in the brick wall that hid a stone staircase leading downwards. “Go, go,” she said and they obeyed. Just as the last of them vanished into the darkness below, the Other’s appendages came bursting through the walls. Lilita descended, locking the hatch behind her. They found themselves in a dark and damp tunnel, lit by a single oil lamp. The Headmother moved past them and grabbed the lamp off the hook on the wall. Screams echoed above. Something smashed against the hatch; Lilita hurried down the narrow corridor. The heroes followed. They meandered through a maze of musty interconnected hallways, eventually arriving at a heavy metal door covered with ancient engraving and symbols.
“In you go,” the old woman said as she pushed the door open. “Follow the path all the way up. When you emerge, head west. The Soundsmith’s Tower lies near, you can’t miss it.”
A loud crash echoed along the corridors, followed by a booming voice, “Ita fit aluid!”
Lilita’s head twitched and her hands began shaking. “Go,” she said, grabbing Clementine’s arm. “It has been an honor to have lived long enough to see you.” She hugged Clementine and handed her the lantern.
“Come with us,” Clementine said.
The Headmother’s head twitched again, this time without subsiding. “I’ve been in the gray for far too long,” she said. “The Other’s will has seeped too deep into my own.”
The voices resonated through the corridors, growing louder. “Go,” Lilita said. They filed on through. The door shut behind them, the lock clicked loudly and the four found themselves in a great cavern, water running down its walls. While a luminescent stone path zigzagged through thick blackness, a great pool, murky and dark, stretched out into the distance all around them. Without a word, the group followed the pathway. Gray mist lingered above the still water and occasionally the sound of splashes reverberated throughout. The oil lamp illuminated a small fraction of what lay hidden in the shadow: ancient tunnels, scabrous grottos and massive carved rock.
“What is that?” Mika asked upon seeing something with a hundred legs scamper by along the wall. Swiftly, Clementine shined light at the spot but saw nothing.
“Keep close,” the fox said. The deeper into the caverns they ventured the greater the number of echoes and odd sounds they encountered. Thin arachnid legs peeked out from the nooks in the stone or from behind stalagmites but upon sensing a smidge of light pointed their way they vanished from sight.
“I hate bugs,” Mika said. “They frighten me.” To comfort and keep her company, the fox marched up beside her. “They are probably more afraid of us than we are of them,” he said. “There’s nothing to fear. Think of it this way: if you’re distressed by things external, the discomfort is not due to the thing itself, but to your estimate of it, and this you have the power to revoke at any moment.”
“Someone’s been reading through my copy of Meditations,” Clementine said to Nir. The fox ignored her.
“So everything that I’m afraid of is a construct of my mind?” Mika asked.
“Exactly,” the fox said.
“Then why are you so afraid?” she asked.
“Me?” the fox replied. “I’m not afraid of some bugs.”
“I don’t mean the bugs,” Mika said. “I mean the future, the things up ahead.”
Surprised by her answer, the fox fumbled for words before looking up ahead at the darkness. He felt existential panic and embarrassed, shrunk in size. The sound of water echoed in the distance.
“I was only joking,” Mika said after a long silence, and when he did not respond, she nudged him with her head. “You’re a goof.” The fox smiled and nudged her back. Clementine and Nir watched their colors grew brighter as the flames in the lamp fluttered red and yellow. The brightness of the flames grew stronger, furthering the light’s reach.
They stopped to rest near a cluster of thin cave mushrooms and drank from a small pool of water. Clementine washed her feet and examined the fox’s paw, which had healed completely. As they sat, observing the caverns, Mika, followed the luminescent stone path with her eyes and noticed something slither along it. As the thing came closer, Clementine noticed it as well and stood up in shock. “That’s the bag,” she said. “The one I lost in the woods.”
They stared as long insect legs, fleshy wings and a grotesque misshapen fly head sprouted from it. The creature gave off a low hiss, smoke spewing from its flesh. Before Clementine could say or do anything she collapsed, a voice surged through her head, inflicting pain onto her with each word, “You’ve come too far. We cannot let you go further. It’s time for you to be like everyone else, it’s time for you to give up and fade away into worry. You’re just another story not worth telling.”
Clementine tried to make out what was happening around her as if through a haze, imagining that a hundred flies were trying to crawl into her eyes. Too busy swatting away the visions in her head, she did not see the bag turn even more monstrous and fleshy. She did not see the fox grow large and brightly auburn. She did not see him battle the shadow fly, biting at it, dodging its strikes. What she did see, however, was Mika grabbing the lantern in her mouth, throwing it with precise aim and striking the fly on the head, bathing it in flame. She saw the creature fall onto the luminescent path and burn away in a blaze.
The voice and the vision vanished. Mika appeared before her. “Clementine,” she heard someone say. Stepping out from beyond the beagle, the man in the shiny suit appeared. “You,” Clementine said and a ball of lightning appeared and exploded between Mika and her.
When Clementine opened her eyes, she lay on the floor of a dark room. She sat up and saw a large table with a candle at its center. There came a knock at the door, which sat across from the table. The movement of shuffling feet sounded above her and a bearded middle-aged man with chocolate colored skin descended the stairs. “They’re here,” he said and turned toward Clementine. His hazel eyes glimmered in the candle light. To her surprise, Clementine moved toward the man. He opened the door and sunlight poured in as three figures walked through.
“Quickly,” the bearded man said. After the figures were inside, he peeked outside to check if anyone saw his guests arrive but seeing no one, he closed the door. “Please sit,” he ushered the guests to the table. A young woman and an old man sat down, while a beautiful woman garbed in black feathers hugged the bearded man.
“It is nice to see you again, Talin,” she said.
“You too, Vorona.”
The woman turned to Clementine and said, “And how are you, Mika?”
“I’m well,” Clementine heard herself answer in a different voice.
“We don’t have time for this,” the old man said.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Vernon,” Vorona said.
“Get the twins,” Talin told Clementine and as if someone else controlled her body, she walked up the stairs and down a narrow corridor. All the windows were shuttered. Sunlight peeked in through the cracks. She entered a room with a large crib. Holding each other’s hands, two children—a boy and a girl—lay sleeping. After bundling them in blankets, Clementine kissed each child on the forehead. “You’ll be safe soon,” she said aloud and made her way downstairs.
“There they are,” Vorona said with a smile. She walked up to Clementine and placed her hands over the children. “Sit ventus nuntius protegere eos,” she said and strands of green light flowed from her hands and into the children before flowing back out and into each person in the room. The red and blue crystals that hung from the babies’ tiny necks shimmered.
“There,” Vorona said. “The protective spell is cast. Only the five of us are privy to know where they will be hidden. No one else will even know they exist.” She took the boy and handed him to the woman. “Take care of him, Ollana,” she said.
“I will,” the woman said. “I will lay down my life fo
r this child.”
Vorona handed the girl to the old man. “And you, Vernon—
“I know, I know,” the old man said.
Clementine started crying. “It will be all right, Mika” Vorona said and hugged her.
An explosion sounded outside.
“He’s here sooner than expected,” Vorona said.
“You said he wouldn’t know,” the old man said.
“Outside, now!” Vorona said and they all did as she told them. Fire spread over the rooftops and thousands of ravens covered the sky.
“You said…”
“Shut up, Vernon,” Vorona said and touched both him and the woman on the forehead. Instantaneously, they became large storks and the children tiny acorns in their talons. “The spell is upon you. Fly and when you are both safe in Ithorhyn, the disguise shall fade.” The storks squawked and soared high into the sky, disappearing into the rising smoke.
“Get out of the city,” Vorona told Talin and Clementine. “I must deal with him.” And she became a large crow before their eyes. Without as much as a glance, she flew skyward. Talin and Clementine quickly returned inside the house. “Our travel gear and bags are in the cellar,” Talin said. “I packed them yesterday, just in case.” They descended the stairs, threw on their travel clothes—he a kaleidoscopic tunic, she a tricolored white, black, and light brown frock—and, slinging their bags over their shoulder, left the house.
The city stood in flames. While archers fired arrows at great winged beasts in the sky, the city folk were fleeing the carnage. Talin led Clementine down an alleyway when the house behind them exploded, sending them flying along with the debris. Kaaw! Clementine looked up and saw as out of the clouds descended an enormous black talon. It crashed down upon a city block and with a swipe wiped out three others. Kaaw! “Come,” Talin said and helped Clementine up to her feet.
They turned a corner and a large man with a black feathered hood stood before them on horseback. He resembled the Seeing Man but instead of eyes, hundreds of ears hid under in the shadow of his hood. “The Silent Man,” Talin said intensely and pulled Clementine into the adjacent alley. They ran but the ground shook and they fell again. Kaaw! The black talon leveled the castle that sat in the middle of the city.
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