The Auburn Prince

by Adam Zmarzlinski

  “I’m so sorry, Mika,” Clementine grabbed her friend’s hand. “Your father was a wonderful person, a man whose friendship I shall cherish forever.”

  Mika smiled. “Thank you,” she said and the three of them hugged.

  “Enough with sentimentality, come on Clementine,” Gideon interrupted. “Let’s eat.”

  After dressing in her washed and pressed clothing, they went downstairs into the dining room and ate. They talked about their journey. Laughed at the past and speculated of the future. They spent the rest of the day together, for once not running away from villains, not dodging storms or climbing mountains but sitting on balconies, walking through gardens, drinking lemonade and eating puff cakes. Gideon showed her around the castle and she flew kites in a great garden on the edge of the royal grounds with Mika. Throughout the day, dignitaries, ambassadors, writers, artists and musicians came by to thank her for bring the Prince back to them. She greeted them all with grace, etiquette and a smile.

  “Gideon,” Clementine began as they sat on the balcony watching the sunset. “How long was I knocked out?”

  “A week, exactly,” he answered.

  “And umm…what happened to the Türul?”

  “Nothing,” the Prince said. “He was here yesterday, told us of what’s happening in Mundialis—Iridis, as it’s being called now. He’ll be back in a few days’ time.”

  “Did he mention Olland?”

  “Yes,” Gideon said. “With the fall of the Übel, the curse was lifted from the city ruins. The conqueror worms died off and color returned. Now it’s all about rebuilding…”

  “Did he mention Auden?”

  Gideon and Mika exchanged glances.

  “Yes, he did,” the Prince said. “But before you ask, are you sure you want to know?”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He fulfilled that which he was made for,” Gideon said. “By helping us, he lifted the curse and then he vanished. He’s gone.”

  “He saved my life, you know.”

  The Prince nodded.

  “Do you know if it hurt, his vanishing?”

  “He probably didn’t even feel it. He faded with the curse.”

  To stop herself from crying, Clementine looked at her feet.

  “We never truly lose someone,” Gideon began. “Not as long as they remain here,” he pointed at her chest, “and here,” he pointed at her head. “We cry over those who are gone when instead we should be smiling that we’ve had the honor and pleasure of knowing them.”

  Clementine hugged Gideon.

  Several days passed, during which Clementine partook in numerous activities. She tried horseback riding and attended parties and feasts. Gideon showed her a trick where he turned into a fox and back into a man.

  “But how?” she asked.

  “I have no idea,” he told her. “But if I focus, it just happens.”

  When the Türul came, she gave him a big hug and on her insistence, the four of them flew back to the Soundsmith’s Tower, where they spent a week helping the instruments rebuild. During that time, they held a funeral for the Soundsmith and others. On her last day, Claret, the mandolin, insisted on coming with her. Clementine agreed.

  Upon returning to the Capital, a state funeral was held and Vivéret observed three days of mourning for Talin Scourgeworth. Gideon gave a rousing speech to the people, explaining what had happened: Perow’s betrayal, the rousing of the troops, the planned war—which Clementine learned the Türul prevented by speaking with the generals—the return of color to Mundialis and so on. Clementine, spent several days alone—she insisted on it—planting a field of hyssops just outside the city walls. After she was finished, Gideon and Mika surprised her with the unveiling of a statue in honor of her parents. She wept with joy, and then scolded her friends for keeping it a surprise. Indeed, Clementine, for the first time in a long time, was surrounded by family.

  One night, as they sat on a balcony, watching a firework show commemorating Iridis’ Independence Day, Clementine turned to Gideon and Mika and said, “I want to go back home and begin fixing my own world.” Her words took the couple by surprise.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Gideon asked. “You’re welcome to live here with Mika and I. If you feel unfulfilled, there are many projects. We have fine schools here, several universities. You can help us rebuild the people’s trust. Rebuild Iridis.”

  “There are problems in my world that need fixing too,” Clementine said. “I need to help people at home before I can help kingdoms in far off lands.”

  “Are you sure?” Gideon asked and Clementine nodded.

  “So be it,” he said. “We will find the tree from which you’ve crawled out of and I will call for the Türul to take us there.”

  “I know where it is,” Clementine said. “I can feel it.” Her last night at the castle was her favorite: the fireworks were beautiful, the food delicious and the company merry and glad. That night, Clementine Aurelius shed her loneliness.

  The Türul awaited them in the morning. It had spent the past few days resting at its nest, built upon the remains of the Soundsmith’s Tower, recovering from his ordeal with the Übel.

  “Good morning, Clementine,” he said upon seeing her.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  “Now that my feathers have mended, the real work begins.”

  “It will be a hard job,” Clementine said. “I wish you the best of luck.”

  Clementine, along with Gideon, Mika and Claret climbed onto the Türul’s back and with a flap of its wings, the bird soared high into the sky. Following Clementine’s sense of direction, it did not take long for them to find the gnarled tree and the portal back to Earth. Landing on a nearby hill, Clementine smiled at the sight of the two hyssop flowers growing atop the tree’s highest branch.

  “This is it, huh?” Gideon said, marveling at the sight of the twisted tree.

  “This is it,” Clementine said, glancing from the flowers to the hole between the roots. “I’m going to miss you,” she said turning to her friends. Mika hugged her.

  “We’ll always be around,” she told her. “Now that we know where the tree lies, we’ll come and visit. Promise to do likewise.” Clementine nodded.

  “All the best, Türul,” she said, hugging the great bird.

  Gideon took out the handkerchief and Meditations from his knapsack. “You’ve not asked for either of these things since you woke up,” he told her, holding out the items in front of her. After glancing at the dancing lines upon it, she placed the handkerchief in her pocket.

  “Keep it,” she said of Meditations. “I’ve learned all I could from it.”

  “How absurd—and a complete stranger to the world—is the man surprised at any aspect of his experience in life. Book twelve, I think,” Gideon said and Clementine nodded in agreement. “Be well, Clementine,” he continued. “Grow and keep that kind heart open.”

  Clementine hugged Gideon, her Fox Prince.

  “Before you go, I have one question. It’s a weird one, but I’m curious,” he said. “What sort of people do you wish to please?”

  “Good ones,” Clementine smiled. “The ones who make me grow.”

  She hugged the Türul, Mika and Gideon one more time.

  “Goodbye, my friends,” she said with tears in her eyes and, along with Claret, the mandolin, walked into the hole beneath the gnarled tree.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Foxhunt

  When Clementine crawled out of the fireplace, all the gateways—the striped door, the mirror, the painting and the wardrobe door—stood shut. She opened all of them and, after pulling the sheet down, found herself back in her father’s study. It was nighttime.

  “Claret,” she turned around. “Where are you?” But the mandolin did not show. Worried about her friend, Clementine returned to the smaller wolf’s maw and put her arm inside it. “There,” she said, feeling the instrument’s wooden body. Clementine pulled out Claret but she n
o longer resembled a magical talking mandolin but a normal one. Clementine sighed and returned to her father’s study. She walked over to the desk, placed the mandolin on the tabletop and turned on the desk lamp. She looked at the framed photograph of her parents and her face lit up. A creaking of floorboards outside of the room, made her jump and she remembered that her ill aunt might still be around.

  “The splintered shadow,” Clementine told herself. “What if it’s still alive?” She turned off the lamp and walked up to the door. A faint light shined from out of her jacket pocket. She reached in to pull out a glowing handkerchief, the black lines gliding across its surface. The Arcenciel Chaplet grew warm, a faint blue hue shimmering off its surface.

  As she opened the door, Clementine held the handkerchief at a ready. When nothing jumped out, she peeked around the corner. The hallways stood empty and still. With the coast clear, Clementine walked down the hall and into her room. Stunned to find a room filled with solid darkness, she stepped back into the hall.

  “What is this?” she said and, after some consideration, carefully stepped back into her room. The handkerchief’s light melted the darkness. It fell away in chunks and, like some sort of insect, skittered through the spaces between the floorboards. She heard Rickerty’s laugh from the remaining shadow and watched wide eyed as a large shadow earwig with Rickerty’s face crawled down the wall.

  “You came back,” it spoke in Dahlia’s voice. “How?” Before Clementine reacted, the chaplet flashed, absorbing all the shadow, including the earwig, into itself. After a quick sweep of her things, Clementine slowly, carefully and meticulously checked each and every room upstairs. A burst of adrenalin accompanied opening each door and while the Chaplet absorbed all the solid shadows, Clementine grew more anxious to find her aunt.

  “She must be downstairs,” Clementine concluded.

  Slowly descending the stairs, stepping over all the creaky spots, she arrived at the first floor completely drenched in darkness. The chaplet flashed and absorbed the shadow. A sound of rushed movement resonated from the kitchen. Clementine swallowed anxiously and headed in that direction. The kitchen, unlike the upstairs where the darkness fell away, stood crammed with a solid and permanent blackness. Acting like a mirror, Clementine stared at an upside-down version of her reflection.

  “Come,” a voice said from within and Clementine took a step toward it. A hand reached out of the darkness and, grabbing her by the collar of her jacket, pulled her inside.

  The world became gray and moved as if on a static-filled television screen. Clementine felt odd. “Why do I have four legs,” she thought and looked at herself. She was a white vixen. A great laughter surrounded her and out of the static jumped out many warped men riding warped horses. Their faces looked like a scrambled version of the sliding blocks game: a nose sat where an eye should have been, a cheek where a mouth once lay. The horses too, seemed scrambled, their hooves a hundred insect legs. Distorted laughter echoed around, sounds of gunshots and screams followed.

  “Get that rat’s pelt!” someone screamed and a giant earthworm with Dahlia’s scrambled face burst out of the static. Clementine ran. She leapt through television screens and under twisted trees and over scrambled horse heads. At one moment, she ran through a cemetery, at another, huntsmen chased her on the ceiling of a prison. “Come here! Come here! Come here!” Dahlia screamed. Clementine felt panic and mind numbing fear. She saw her parent’s faces, scrambled and sliding.

  “Will you help us form our face, you rat?” they shrieked at Clementine.

  “Enough!” the girl yelled. Suddenly, she became powerful and brave. She stopped running and faced her pursuers head on. As they were about to catch her in their demented, twisted hands, they dispersed into static. Clementine stood as herself, no longer a vixen. Out of the corner of her right eye, she saw the Dahlia earthworm. “Come here,” Clementine told it. The earthworm grew tiny and small until it morphed into a black demented fox with a scrambled face. Clementine chased after it, but it dodged her by jumping in and out of static.

  “Come here you coward,” Clementine said and the Chaplet gave off a flash. The static dissipated, replaced with a horrid fox scratching at a wall. Clementine walked up to it and it growled at her. “There you are,” the girl said and her voice echoed into infinity. The fox’s eyes grew wild and twisted. It barked at itself and bit into its flesh.

  “It’s over,” Clementine said and put out her hand, the Chaplet hanging off her wrist. The fox lunged at her and she fell onto the kitchen floor, the darkness opaque and fading. Rapidly, the air grew cold. Clementine heard her aunt’s laugh just before feeling Dahlia’s cold hands around her neck. The girl thrashed and the two of them fell out of the kitchen and onto the living room floor. Clementine spun around to face her aunt. Dahlia’s eyes were black, her skin gray, her hair insect like, crawling over her head. A twisted shadow hung about her like a bad odor.

  “Aunt Dahlia, please. I know you’re in there,” Clementine said and the woman lunged at her neck, gripping it tightly.

  “How did you survive?” Dahlia asked in a wild voice, her grip growing tighter. On the verge of passing out, Clementine grabbed her aunt’s hand and the Arcenciel Chaplet touched her skin, it sizzled and burned. Dahlia cried out in pain and let go of Clementine.

  “Too long I have toyed with you,” Dahlia said, her head spastic. “They too must’ve done so, arrogant of their supremacy. I felt it when you shattered them. They cried out like a hurricane in pain.” She began to shake uncontrollably and then collapsed to the ground. Out from her body emerged a jagged black shadow with piercing white eyes. It screeched and moved swiftly, running up to Clementine, swiping at her with its claws.

  Clementine held out the handkerchief which bloomed color and light. It shrieked again, taking on a solid form, its texture resembling charred wood. The creature swiped at Clementine, tearing her jacket. The girl fell back into a chair and it fell upon her. It swiped once more, this time slashing the crocodile on her shirt. Spurred by the pain, Clementine kicked the shadow back and followed with the knockout punch, touching its skin with the handkerchief. The Chaplet flashed and the shadow began to break apart into chunks of coal. It turned toward Clementine and with horror in its eyes, screamed, “It wasn’t supposed to end this way!” then it collapsed into a pile of coal. The darkness of the home faded and spiraled near the ceiling before diving into the Chaplet’s black bead and the crack on it mended.

  Clementine sat down beside Dahlia, gently lifted the woman’s head and cradled it in her lap. “You’ll be all right,” she said, wiping ash off her aunt’s face with the handkerchief. Dahlia opened her eyes and tears ran down her cheeks.

  “My dear, Clementine,” she said, hugging her niece.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Aunt Dahlia,” Clementine said.

  The traumatized woman held Clementine’s face in her palms “I am so sorry my child. I…I was a prisoner in my own body. It…it did horrid things to—

  “You don’t need to explain,” Clementine said. “I know, I saw it. I was there in the Valley of the Other. I can only imagine how it must have been in the valley of your mind.”

  “Your parents loved you,” Dahlia said, weeping. “They—

  “I know. I love them too,” Clementine said. “I love you. Come on Aunt Dahlia, we’ve got a lot to do, a lot to talk about, and after what you’ve been through, you need to rest and I need to put this house back in order, starting with cleaning out Dad’s study.”

  Dahlia hugged her niece.

  “Let’s make some hot cocoa first,” Clementine said.

  There is a House on Vulpes Hill…

  “Thank you, Mr. Liber,” Clementine said, Kurt Vonnegut’s Slapstick tucked under her arm. “I’ll see you next week. Have a good weekend.”

  “Likewise, Miss Aurelius.”

  Clementine left the bookstore and walked back home with a happy spring in her step that had developed over the past six months since her return to Dusty Ripple. Wit
hin just a couple days of her arrival, she resumed her usual activities: reading, writing, school and exploring the woods. She also started volunteering at the local retirement home, library and veterinary clinic, and started a new book club at school—seven people had already joined within the first month.

  She reconnected with her aunt Dahlia. The woman told her of the many cartographical journeys through the numerous Dreams of Orbheim. She taught Clementine of the world hidden behind the veil of human ignorance and perception. While she enjoyed learning of these mysteries, Clementine’s interests lay with her local community and the house on Vulpes Hill. With Dahlia’s aid, she cleaned the dwelling, organizing the rooms and throwing out all the old and unnecessary things that lacked value, be they sentimental or otherwise. Like a cheery blossom after a harsh winter, the house on Vulpes Hill gained its beauty back, becoming an envy of the neighborhood. Even Ila Umer had to agree that something about the blue Victorian home changed for the better.

  The people of Dusty Ripple did not change much, if anything their snickering and gossiping about the Aurelius’ increased tenfold due to Dahlia’s change in personality. “She’s taking drugs for depression,” Mr. Horace Hullahan, a local locksmith said. “I heard, she found herself a boyfriend, a porker with a thick wallet, so she adjusted to his bidding,” Mrs. Ann Gerücht, a local part-time schoolteacher and full-time flatterer, said. “She’s crazy that woman,” Mr. Perkin McGooflin, a local liquor enthusiast relied. “She scolded me for calling that Clementine a rat.” Indeed, Dahlia Teadmatus became both the town’s biggest topic of discussion and Clementine’s greatest defender and supporter, a second mother. Clementine learned much from her aunt who turned out to be a loving woman despite the trauma left behind by the Übel.

  Her own experiences in Mundialis left Clementine confident, and although it was hard at first, she even made some new friends. Curbing the bully taunts by organizing a town wide food drive for the local poverty stricken families, left her fulfilled and happy. Her kindness did not go unappreciated, a reporter from the nearby city of Dvorkow, heard of the act and wrote up a magnificent article for the city paper, praising the girl for her empathy and message of hope. Ila had no quips and japes to spew after the article went to print. In fact, she helped Clementine organize the Christmas food drive.