“This one is locked,” Clementine said, trying the first door. Making their way down, testing and pushing at each door, Clementine finally opened one that stood halfway down the hall. Inside a murky and bare chamber, they found the collapsed fox.
“Gideon!” Mika said, quickly running up to, sniffing and rubbing him with her nose.
“You came,” he whispered, slightly opening his eyes, his face bruised, his paw a gash.
“We’re leaving,” Mika said.
“Yes, we are,” Clementine said and took him in her arms.
“You came,” the fox said, this time with angst.
“Yes,” Clementine said, leaving the room. Mika scouted ahead, glancing at the fox, checking if he was indeed real, after each sniff. Quickly, they returned to the throne room.
“You came,” the fox said. “You shouldn’t have.”
“What?” Mika said.
“It’s all pretend, a trick, a con,” the fox said. “It always was.”
As they crossed the throne room, three great shadows stretched out from the corners.
“Remember,” a voice boomed, “remember that in a brief time both you and he will be dead and shortly after, not even your names will be left.” A thin black hand emerged from the shadow and threw Meditations into the air. The text slid across the floor and struck Clementine’s feet, wide open to book four. The shadows merged and took on their secondary form: one of Ecilám, the other of Perow and the third, who stood in front of her, of the strange boy.
“Welcome, my dear,” the boy said, morphing into Rickerty. “It’s been a while.”
“How could you?” is all Clementine could say. The wizard smiled.
“When we first met, I told you that evil is always three: power, malice and trickery.”
“So, this is the girl that exhausted the Other,” Perow said unimpressed. “I expected more than a thin thing dressed in orange rags. And what’s with the dog and that lizard on her chest?”
“They have names,” Clementine said.
“I’m sure they do,” Perow said. “But don’t bother telling me, I don’t care to hear them.”
“You’re another one of those things,” Clementine said. “A shapeless shadow that goes puff upon the first sight of sunlight.”
“Your friend, the canary was just as tetchy as you are,” Perow said. “Alas, he tweets no more irritable tunes.”
“Liar!” Clementine shouted.
“The girl who brought color back,” Rickerty said. “A fairy tale, I thought, and yet here you are, beaming with color. Auden must be proud, but what is this, no colorful bird accompanied you here? It seems that once your usefulness ran its course, you were tossed aside. It’s a habit with you, first your parents now the Türul.”
“You need to run Clementine,” the fox said. “They’re not who they seem.”
“Of course, we’re not who we seem,” the wizard said, strumming his harp. “Do you know how long we’ve been apart? You see, dear girl, we are one. Long ago separated but by no choice of our own. Our owner, you see, he died. He tossed us away into a colorful bag and, much like when your parents tossed you away into that forlorn house, we had to struggle to survive. But we returned mightier and wiser, and we took what we were owed, the town of Olland. Sensing our power, Auden and the Windcallers came and they split us up and imprisoned us behind that gray dome.
“Then the Other came. It consumed us and we grew in its wisdom. Like those shadows that you met in the ruins, the ombras, we too were enchanted by the Other’s humility and kindness, by its promise of inclusion. Thankfully, it took all three of us into itself and when we realized that among the millions of shadows in its being, the three of us were there, we plotted. First, one of us escaped and split into two. One came to your world; the other came here to Vivéret. The first searched for the right scapegoat and eventually it found it: your parents. The perfect tools: kind, clever, strong, just and in love. We possessed their minds—
“No, you didn’t,” Clementine said and the wizard smiled.
“We tried,” Perow said. “But they didn’t care for power; they cared only about their child, about building a better world for it.”
“Indeed,” the wizard grinned. “But your aunt was a different story. Her heart was drowning in regret and loneliness and all lonely souls carry in them a potential at rage, at malice, at apathy—
“You lie,” Clementine yelled.
“Your parent’s journey began with your aunt convincing them to aid this land,” Rickerty said. “They failed to make peace with the Other and their death set us free. We were mere specters, true. Nevertheless, one of us found an ill man and took his shape. Luck smiled on us yet again, when in the man’s pocket we found the Arcenciel Chaplet. The plan was set, but we needed one more body. Long did we search for form, thankfully another death—that of the prince’s mother—gave us full form. Ecilám and I share in the life force of the Queen, in the memory of her. We had bodies, now we needed sacred fire, royal blood and the flesh of the divine.
“The canary sacrificed all it had, the Prince just his paw. It would have ended there but the splintered part of us, the one who watched over you, was more ambitious than we. It let you to the fireplace, to Mundialis. At first, we three knew not why. With time, it became clear. What is more powerful than flattery, more powerful than illusion, more powerful than superficial kindness? Benevolence, kindness embodied! It gives hope and hope clouds reality, hope acts as a blinder to hate.”
Clementine clenched her hand into a fist.
“This is the deal,” Rickerty said, “We shall let your friends go and all you need to do is stay with us, Clementine.”
“Never,” Mika said. “She would never stay with you.”
“She won’t just stay,” the wizard said. “Oh no. Like the canary, like queen Gavrella, like her parents, she will sacrifice herself so that I may become God. Come out, my pets.” The wizard’s robe became a suit of ants. They crawled over his body and into his mouth, nostrils and ears, leaving the wizard a writhing mess.
Ecilám stepped forward, took the Satchel from his belt and opened it. Color swirled inside. The three figures melted away, their shadows combined into an abyss. The satchel fell into the shadow, merging with it. The light in the room grew dim and the color from the throne room began to flow into the great shadow. It morphed and twisted as if it were in pain. A great drumming echoed through the chamber and a black, polished figure of a man with no features beside that of a gaping, color absorbing mouth, stepped out of the abyss.
“I am Übel,” it spoke. “And you are my key to divinity.” It moved its arm and the four companions were thrown back against the wall. “You can fight and lose or you can give to me what destiny deemed mine, Clementine.”
“We will fight,” Clementine said. “And I will win.”
“The night does not ask the stars for its opinion,” the Übel said, growing larger and more sinister. “It does with them what it wants.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Thank You, Friend
The longer they stood motionless and without action, the larger the Übel grew. Aware of this, the creature too stood silent and still until it consumed enough color, then it reached for Clementine. The closer its fingers came to her, the more fearful she became. Images of Alice and Bell being torn apart by a hundred demonic hands flashed before her and she collapsed, twitching. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and more images: two fleshy snakes, one with her dad’s head, the other with her mom’s, eating one another; helicopters flying over a jungle, spraying the landscape below with bullets, planes flying into two glass towers, a wave of water washing over a beachside resort and hundreds of children sowing shoes. An undernourished wolf, a gaunt black dragon, a floating moon made of millions of naked bodies and a young woman with a crystal heart poking out of her chest.
Seeing her friend fall, Mika sprung forward and bit the Übel on the hand. As soon as her teeth sunk into the creature, her color drained a
nd a surge of pain ran across her body. “Yes,” the Übel said. “Feed me.” Growing weak, Mika released her bite and stumbled toward Clementine, nudging at her to wake up. The fox lifted his head.
“We must flee,” Talin said. “We’ve come ill prepared for this.”
“You go,” Gideon said, standing up. “I’ll finish this.” He sprang forth, growing larger in midair, and with an authoritative swiftness, struck the Übel on the chest. The black creature stumbled backwards and color stopped flowing into its maw. Not giving the enemy a moment of respite, Gideon bit into the Übel’s neck and chest. Understanding that the wretched creature grew in power from physical contact, his bites were quick yet deep.
Meanwhile, Clementine awoke and with Mika and Talin’s aid stumbled toward the throne room entrance. Mere feet away from escape, a solid shadow descend from the ceiling, blocking their way. Clementine glanced back to see the fox lay defeated on the floor.
“Come Clementine,” the Übel said offering its hand, color flowing back into its gaping maw. A glorious melody rang outside. The windows shattered and glass rained down upon them. Then, in all its glory, the Türul burst through. It smashed into the Übel and the two crashed through the adjacent wall. The shadow blocking the escape route faded.
“Gideon,” Clementine said and, with Talin on her shoulder, she ran over to him and lifted his head to hers.
The Türul and the Übel continued to struggle. The bird pierced the creature’s shoulder with its beak and tore at its abdomen with its talons. A liquid rainbow spilled out onto the floor. The tips of the Übel’s fingers parted, revealing ravenous, teeth filled mouths. It grabbed the Türul by the wing and the finger mouths bit into its feathered flesh. The longer the Übel held on to the kaleidoscopic avian the more powerful it became, its wounds healing.
“I shall drain you,” it said. “Not even the white of your bones will remain.”
The Türul pecked the Übel on the head, cracking it as if it were a mirror. Furious, the Übel grabbed his opponent by the neck and, after lifting him up over its head, threw the bird against the floor beside where Clementine, Talin and Gideon stood. The throw’s impact collapsed that part of the floor. The Übel became so confident that it grew in size. Its maw widened. Not only did color flow into it, but light and everything else. It even pulled at Clementine and the others.
Focused on the vile being before her, she did not notice that the Arcenciel Chaplet on her wrist grew luminous and bright. The Türul lifted his head toward her. “The Chaplet,” it said. “Use it.” The Übel screamed and Clementine felt a need to touch its gleaming blackness. Her parents, their smiles, the memories she had of them, the lessons they taught her, burst out of her mind like a supernova. “Sacrifice,” she thought. “A time comes when we must give all of ourselves so that others may sip inspiration.”
She turned toward the Übel. “If you wish to have me, you must let them be,” she said.
“Done,” the Übel replied. “Now, come to me.”
“Clementine no!” Mika yelled from beside the throne room entrance and ran after her.
The girl walked toward the creature. She put out her one hand, while putting the other behind her back and sliding off the chaplet so that it rested in her palm. Talin read her intent. He slid off Gideon’s back and with great speed scurried towards her.
“Clementine!” Mika yelled and upon reaching her, pulled at the girl’s pant cuff. Annoyed, Clementine kicked her leg, shoving the hound away. “I know what I’m doing,” she said and Mika’s eyes filled with tears.
“No, you don’t!” Mika said. Clementine ignored her and walked on. As she neared the creature, she felt more and more physical pain. Her joints and head ached, her stomach cramped, her muscles tensed and her heart raced faster still. Her skin peeled and curled, turning to ash and floating away.
“The pain,” she said. “Why is there so much of it?”
“Let me ease your suffering,” the Übel called to her. Knowing she would be too weak in just a few steps, Clementine gathered all her strength and threw the Arcenciel Chaplet at the beast. The creature sensed the weapon as she threw it, and with a brush of its hand, the chaplet stopped midflight. The Übel examined it for a moment, before flinging it away.
“I am trickery,” the Übel said. “One cannot play jokes on a jester.” It took a step toward Clementine and she felt a chilling cold and an immense heaviness press down upon her. Falling upon her knees, her eyes turned black, her skin ashen, and her color, even the yellow of the crocrodrile shirt, faded. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she called out, “Mom! Dad! I’m sorry!”
Suddenly, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked over to see, dressed in a fabulous kaleidoscopic tunic, an old man with creased, chocolate colored skin, a long white beard and kind, hazel eyes. “Don’t give up, dear,” he said. “All is well.”
“Talin?” she said. The old man smiled and looked back at Gideon and Mika.
“I think that they’ll be happy together, don’t you think?” he asked Clementine. “You be happy too and don’t you ever give up on people, no matter what. Love, especially when the world is falling apart. Care, especially when others don’t. And above all else, don’t judge yourself by the opinions of envious and lost Men.” With those words, he squeezed her shoulder, smiled once more and with a confident stride walked up to the Übel. She watched him stop before the great figure of black.
“Dad!” a scream sounded behind Clementine. She turned to see Mika running toward her. “Dad, please don’t!”
Clementine looked back at Talin and both joy and sadness seeped into her heart when she noticed that in his hand, he held the Arcenciel Chaplet. He looked back her, his skin turned ashen, he lost all color, and yet, a smile, as bright as the crescent moon on a clear night, stretched across his face.
“You stand between me and my prize, old man,” the creature said.
“No, I stand between you and all that I love,” Talin said and threw himself at the Übel. The beast gave off a horrid screech when the Chaplet touched its polished skin. Suddenly, a gust of hurricane-strength wind burst through the windows, engulfing Talin and the beast. A vortex of air tore through the throne room. Two great explosions boomed inside it. Ash burst forth from within it followed by a sound, as if someone took in a deep breath. Air and ash rushed back into it. Colors that the human eye cannot fathom surged forth, bathing the chamber in their glow.
Clementine stood up and walked toward the epicenter. She entered the maelstrom and saw that everything inside it plunged into the Arcenciel Chaplet. She saw a beautiful woman with auburn locks standing between her parents, the Chaplet in her hands. Her parents ushered her near. The woman stepped up to her offering her the Chaplet. “It is done,” she said. “Thank you for freeing us.” Clementine looked at her parents and reached for the Chaplet. The tip of her finger touched the glass beads. Before collapsing unconscious, she heard a great cracking noise followed by the sight of a girl surrounded by a hundred butterflies.
When Clementine awoke, she found herself under a feather filled blanket on a large comfy bed surrounded by a dozen fluffy pillows. Sunlight shined through a duo of arched windows. A wooden dresser stood against the near wall, while the far wall was covered with paintings and pictures. An oval table lined with books occupied in the room’s middle. A writing desk sat near the door that led out onto the balcony.
As the foot of the bed, lay a beautiful caramel colored woman. A pile of used tissues lay beside her. She slept silently, her head resting on a purple pillow. Curious of the stranger, Clementine sat up and gently pulled the blanket off herself. The woman awoke, sat up and, with a great smile, stared at Clementine.
“You’re awake!” she said ecstatically and tightly hugged Clementine.
“I’m sorry, but do we know one other?” the girl asked, slightly embarrassed.
“You don’t recognize me?” The woman smiled, sprung off the bed and pirouetted so that Clementine could get a better look at her.
“I’m sorry,” Clementine said. “I…” The woman spun once more. There was a glimmer of light and Clementine thought she saw a beagle with a pink, heart shaped nose.
“How about now?” the woman said.
“Mika!” Clementine yelped and the two hugged again.
“I’ll be right back,” Mika said. “I’m supposed to get him when you wake up. Wait here, don’t move.” Mika ran out of the room, leaving Clementine alone to ponder what just happened. A few minutes later, she returned with a handsome man dressed in a red suit jacket and white pants.
“Clementine,” the man said and gave her a big hug.
“Mr. Fox?” Clementine said.
“Do you remember my name?” the man smiled.
“Gideon,” Clementine smiled. “You…you’re both human! What happened? Why am I bed? Where’s Talin and the Türul and…” Gideon and Mika glanced at one another before sitting down on the bed.
“The curse is broken,” Gideon began. “With the Übel’s doom its influence weakened and faded. Turns out that Talin’s sacrifice was so powerful that it cleansed all the evil cast upon us.”
Clementine teared up.
“He didn’t make it, Clementine,” Gideon continued. “But through his courage, he cemented his love in that moment and saved the three of us.” Gideon squeezed Mika’s hand. “The Chaplet absorbed all the evil in the castle. The love of a father for his daughter, for his friends, crippled the Übel. In the end, when it consumed the content of the Satchel, it became pure knowledge and lacked emotion. That was its downfall. It’s imprisoned in the Chaplet now.”
The Prince took out the Arcenciel Chaplet from his pocket and slid it onto Clementine’s wrist. One of the once clear beads was now black, its surface cracked. “When the Übel’s skin touched the Chaplet, its purification power infected its body and the creature fell ill. The potential wisdom in the Infinity Satchel burst from within it, shattering its outer core, merging with the beads. All is well now.”
The Auburn Prince Page 28