Colemine, the Prince

by Clayton Smith

  “Where are you going?” Willy asked. “I want to go!” But Prince Colemine was already zooming toward the Bloc on his rug, soaring toward Cole and the awful Tooth Fairy nightmare.

  “He’s going to save the day,” Emma said confidently.

  Prince Colemine urged his rug to go faster. He leaned forward and sped toward his struggling twin. The prince knew the nightmare, or at least knew of him; he’d heard plenty of dark tales of the new Tooth Fairy in his kingdom of Perchance, and he knew what the monster was capable of. He gripped the wooden club in his hand, and as the rug sailed closer, he leaned toward the club and whispered, “Courage.” The end of the heavy wooden stick went fwoosh, and a bright green flame roared to life.

  He held the torch straight out, pointing the flame at the heart of the beast. The Tooth Fairy raised his head, startled away from its dark reverie by the approaching boy on the flying carpet, and he snapped his teeth angrily. Spittle sprayed from his mouth as he snarled. He kept his hand clamped tightly over Cole’s mouth, drawing out the child’s teeth, one by one.

  “Wait your tuuuuuuurn,” the Tooth Fairy hissed. He swiped his free hand at Prince Colemine, his sharp talons gleaming. The rug reacted instantly, curving up and away from the arcing claws, and the Tooth Fairy missed the prince by a fine hair. Prince Colemine held tightly to the rug with one hand and grunted as he swung the torch at the Tooth Fairy. The creature slipped backward, avoiding the fire. But the green flame was the flame of courage, and it didn’t need to touch the nightmare to do its work; it only needed to catch the monster’s darkness in its light. As the tip of the torch brushed past the creature’s chest, the light it cast melted the shadow away, dissolving it like wet cotton candy, leaving a thin, wispy trail of emptiness where before had been a solid wall of bone and ash.

  The Tooth Fairy screamed. He pulled his feeding hand from Cole’s mouth and stumbled backward in his agony. Cole tumbled to the ground, still unconscious.

  In his mouth were four empty sockets where his teeth had been pried from his gums.

  Prince Colemine urged the rug onward and pursued the Tooth Fairy, this time holding the torch like a lance and driving it straight into the creature’s shoulder. The flames burned right through the ash, evaporating the entire arm. The nightmare screeched, and the horrible sound reverberated off the empty walls of the Writers Bloc. It swatted at the prince with its good arm, spreading its claws.

  Prince Colemine shuddered as he caught sight of the Tooth Fairy’s open hand. The mouth in the center of his palm now had four teeth lining its lips.

  The prince was caught off guard, and the rug dipped to avoid the nightmare’s claws, but not quite fast enough–the Tooth Fairy’s hand scraped Prince Colemine’s head, knocking the crown to the sand below. The nightmare stretched its claws toward the boy, but Prince Colemine swung the torch up and melted through the monster’s arm. It evaporated into a hissing cloud of black smoke. Cole’s four teeth dropped from the dark mist, plopping onto the prince’s rug.

  “What isssssh thissssssh?” the Tooth Fairy spat in frustration. He reeled back on his clawed feet, working to keep his balance despite the lack of arms. Prince Colemine gripped the torch with both hands and urged the rug into one final dive.

  “This is what happens when courage meets fear,” he said. He swung the torch down as he sped past the Tooth Fairy. The light from the fire melted his scaly head, his teeth, his caved chest, his bony spine, his thin waist, his ashen legs, and, finally, his feet with its razor-sharp claws. The nightmare disappeared into a puff of dark smoke.

  “No,” gasped the dentist from across the dunes of sand. He let his coat go slack. The Stranger slumped to his knees and pitched forward onto the ground. “Nooooo!” The dentist’s nostrils flared, and his eyes burned with white-hot anger. He charged forward, lowering his head like a bull at the small boy on the flying rug. Prince Colemine blew out the green flame on the end of the torch and brought his lips back to the wood. He whispered, “Patience,” and a deep blue fire sprang to life. Its jewel-colored flames curled serenely up the torch, radiating a calm, turquoise glow.

  Prince Colemine tilted the rug downward, and it dove down low to the ground, gliding just inches off the floor. The dentist charged, and the prince touched the tip of the torch to the ground. The blue flame leapt down onto the sand and spread in both directions, curving around to the left and to the right in a controlled arc. The flames rose high into the air, taller than the dentist, who skidded to a stop before the curved wall of patient blue flame. He snarled in anger and spun in place. The flames spread quickly behind him, closing him into a wide circle of soothing blue fire. “No!” he screamed again. He took his coat and beat at the flames, but the fire would not smother. It continued to burn, undaunted.

  Dr. Mandrill was trapped.

  The Stranger struggled to his feet and rubbed gingerly at his throat. His numb fingers felt clumsy against his skin. The skin along his neck burned at the touch, and there was a small smear of blood where the skin had been rubbed raw, but on the whole, he seemed to be okay. He would live. He set his fingers to work ripping away a piece of his sleeve. He tore it down into a long, ragged strip and tied it around his neck to catch the bleeding. Then he stumbled painfully over to where Cole lay crumpled on the ground.

  Prince Colemine landed his carpet lightly next to the prostrate boy just as the Stranger approached. The cowboy eyed the new child suspiciously. “You’re tied to him, somehow,” he said warily, nodding down at Cole.

  Prince Colemine furrowed his brow and looked down at his twin. “We...bear a resemblance,” he admitted.

  They both crouched over Cole. The Stranger gripped him by the shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. “Cole,” he commanded. “Wake up.”

  Cole’s eyes shot open, and he bolted upright, gasping like he was coming out of a nightmare. “Nooo!” he cried, flailing his arms, trying to protect his mouth. His eyes darted crazily around the Writer’s Bloc, searching for the ashen monster.

  “You’re okay,” the Stranger assured him, squeezing the boy’s shoulder.

  “It’s gone?” Cole asked desperately. The Stranger nodded. “Did you–?”

  The cowboy shook his head. He pointed at the prince. “He did.”

  Cole turned his head and looked at Prince Colemine. His eyes grew wide, and he gasped…and then his body went limp as he fainted for the second time.

  The Stranger looked at the prince. The prince looked at the Stranger.

  “Guess we should’ve expected that,” the cowboy sighed.

  Chapter 3:

  In Which There Is Nothing Much to Do

  Miss Twist drummed her fingers on the table. She sighed. “Anyone want to play chess?”

  The IFs that still had arms held them up. Their hands, if they were present at all, were faded and see-through, and incapable of holding tangible objects.

  “Right,” Miss Twist frowned. She glanced around the room. “Does anyone want to read?”

  “I presume you’re being funny,” said the Servant, whose eyes had vanished, along with most of the top of the top of his head.

  “Sorry,” Miss Twist replied. “I could read you a book! Or maybe tell a story?”

  “What’d she say?” asked Mr. Puffles, cupping his hand around the faded spot where his ear had once been.

  “Well, we have to do something! I’m bored and anxious, and that’s a terrible combination!” Miss Twist cried. She pushed her chair back and leapt to her feet, pacing the front of the room.

  “Must be nice, to have legs on which to stand,” Gaia moaned sadly. Her own legs had all but vanished beneath her flowing gown.

  Miss Twist sighed and sat back down. She leaned her head down on top of her desk. “It’s nap time,” she decided. “Everyone closer your eyes and dream of a scenario where the children are safe and sound.”

  Chapter 4:

  “
Chalk One Up for Imagination”

  When Cole came to, he was flat on his back, staring up at a starry sky. A ring of familiar faces peered down at him from above.

  “You’re not dead!” Emma cried happily.

  Cole eyed his identical twin uncertainly as he carefully pulled himself up to a seat. “No,” he said decisively, shaking his head. “No way.”

  “No way what?” asked Prince Colemine, returning Cole’s suspicious gaze.

  “Are you–?” He shook his head, like maybe he could knock some sense into his brain by giving it a rattle. But when he opened his eyes again, his double was still there, very present, and very real. “Are you Prince Colemine?”

  “I am,” the prince said uneasily. “It seems everyone here knows who I am…but I don’t have a clue who any of you are. And I definitely don’t know why you look exactly like me.”

  “Because I am you,” Cole said.

  It was a good half hour before the real world children were able to adequately explain why Prince Colemine found himself confronted with an identical twin in this imaginary realm. “So tell me if I have this right,” he said, adjusting the crown on his head. “Your father wrote a story about a character based on you…and that character is me?” He tapped his finger against his chin and considered the possibility of this. “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “It does?” Cole asked, surprised.

  “In a way. I felt pulled here, and I didn’t know why. This is a corner of my father’s kingdom that I almost never visit. But I had a feeling that I should be here, so I came. And when I arrived, I found your friends huddled together, and saw you being attacked by that nightmare, and…well…it makes sense that something that connects us would have drawn me.”

  “It seems a little strange that we got into trouble right next to your imagining, though, doesn’t it?” Cole asked. “A little…convenient?”

  “Not convenient enough,” the prince retorted, nodding toward Cole’s mouth.

  Cole frowned, and he winced as he prodded the empty sockets inside of his mouth with his tongue. “At least they were baby teeth,” he said sadly.

  “And this guy just killed the Tooth Fairy, so there goes your money,” Willy snickered.

  “Another Tooth Fairy will rise,” Prince Colemine said thoughtfully. “Hopefully one better equipped for the job.”

  “Perhaps Haberdash can resume her role,” Etherie suggested.

  The prince raised an eyebrow, surprised to learn that the strangers from the real world knew the name of the former Tooth Fairy. “Perhaps,” was all he said.

  “What about him?” the Stranger asked, jerking his thumb back toward the Writer’s Bloc. The high, circular wall of blue flame still burned, enclosing the dentist in his fiery cell.

  “The wall will hold for another turn of the glass,” Prince Colemine said.

  “How long is that?” Etherie asked.

  “Not as long as you might like.”

  “Should we go?” Emma asked nervously.

  “We can retreat to my castle and work on a new plan for you there,” offered the prince.

  “We’re obliged for your help,” the Stranger said, tipping his hat, “but we’ll be seeing ourselves out.” Feeling was slowly starting to return to his hands. He reached into his pocket and produced a small white piece of chalk, a wry grin forming at the corner of his mouth.

  “Is that a key?” Cole asked. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Came out of the doc’s jacket in the tussle. It should take us where we need to go.”

  “To the Pinch?” Emma asked.

  The cowboy shook his head. “Nope. Now we can go get Polly.”

  The children exchanged looks of relief. Even Willy had to admit that he’d be glad to have Polly back in the group.

  “Where do you need to go?” asked Prince Colemine.

  “Reaper’s Gulch,” the Stranger said. The prince frowned and rubbed his chin. “You know it?”

  Prince Colemine shook his head. “I’ve never been there. But it sounds…familiar. Do you mind if I tag along?”

  “Are you feeling drawn again?” Cole asked.

  Prince Colemine nodded. “In a way. I feel like I should stay close to you. I’ll give you what help I can.”

  Cole looked at the Stranger. “Can he come?”

  “If he’s up to it,” the Stranger replied.

  “I am,” the prince said, nodding once.

  The Stranger looked at the two boys. The resemblance between them was more than skin-deep, that much was clear. The prince had that same hidden steel in his eye. “I believe you are,” he said.

  He crouched down and brought the tip of the chalk to the dark green grass, but he couldn’t press his still-numb fingers hard enough to trace a line on the ground. “Here,” he said, handing the chalk to Cole. “You draw it.”

  “Me?” Cole took the chalk, but his face took on a sickly pallor. “But…I don’t know how.”

  “You don’t know how to draw?” Willy snorted.

  “I mean, I don’t know how to draw a door that connects to an imaginary place,” Cole said, the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment.

  “It’s no different than drawing any other door, I expect,” the Stranger said. “Just concentrate on the Gulch when you do it.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? I’ve never been to the Gulch! I don’t know what it looks like, or where it is, or…or what it is. I can’t,” he insisted. “I can barely even picture my own house in my head, much less a place I’ve never seen. You all saw what happened when I tried to create an imagination from scratch. That’s how we ended up here in the first place! That’s how I got Broken!” He held the chalk out desperately to Prince Colemine, who raised his hands and backed away from it.

  “I’m just a tagalong,” he insisted. “And I’m not familiar with the Gulch, either.” Cole turned and offered the chalk to Etherie, who considered it thoughtfully, but did not reach forward to take it. Instead, she offered a bit of advice.

  “Maybe you don’t have to think of Reaper’s Gulch,” she said, her eyes bright. “Maybe you just need to think of Polly. That’s who we’re going to find, after all.”

  “Yeah, Cole. Find Polly,” Emma urged.

  Cole frowned. “But what if I send us to the wrong place?”

  “Then we’ll go again,” the Stranger said.

  “Unless I send us to a place we can’t get out of,” Cole replied.

  But the Stranger shook his head. He looked Cole square in the eye. “I’ve got faith,” he said seriously.

  The other children nodded their agreement.

  Cole frowned, but he sank to his knees and leaned over the grass. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus.

  Reaper’s Gulch.

  Polly.

  Eyes still closed, he pressed the tip of the chalk to the ground and drew a straight line. He heard the faintest sizzling sound as he did and felt a glow of heat between his fingers.

  His door was coming to life.

  “Polly,” he murmured to himself. “Find Polly.”

  He drew a rectangle in the grass, and the crackling blue electricity filled the box with a bright, sparking glow. Then the light faded, and the grass inside the rectangle was gone, replaced by a pair of batwing saloon doors. Cole could see a desert landscape beyond the weathered, wooden slats.

  He looked nervously at the Stranger. “Did I do it right?” he asked quietly.

  The Stranger shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

  Chapter 5:

  In Which We Experience Rage

  Dr. Mandrill slammed his fist angrily on the sandy floor of the Writer’s Bloc. How had he allowed himself to be trapped? By a child? It was unthinkable. It was ludicrous.

  He reached out his hand, toward the flames. The fire grew higher an
d gave off an extraordinary heat.

  Mandrill didn’t know who the kid with the crown was. But he was going to make him pay.

  He stomped up the sand hill and snatched his white coat off the ground. He knew his key was unlikely to work inside the Writer’s Bloc, but anything was worth a try. He plunged his hand into the right jacket pocket. He felt the smooth, curved surface of the vial that held the tooth, but no chalk. He flipped the coat over and tried the other pocket. Nothing. He patted his pants pockets frantically, but they were empty.

  He closed his hands into tight, red fists and screamed into the sand.

  He gripped his jacket by the sleeve and whipped it at the ground, throwing out a string of curse words were swallowed up by the flames.

  But as he stood there, fuming and stomping and yelling until his voice was hoarse, the color of the flames around him began to change, very slowly. The bright blue of the fire died down to a watery blueish-yellow. He shook out his jacket, pulled it on, and stepped carefully down the sand hill, working hard to catch his breath. He approached the flames again, and this time, they didn’t rise up higher.

  In fact, they started to die down.

  The boy’s spell was wearing off.

  Mandrill paced in front of the wall of flame, watching intently as the fire burned lower. After several long minutes, the fire was low enough that he could jump over it. He took a few steps and leapt over the flames. He hit the ground with surprising grace for a man his size, and he pushed forward toward the huge break in the wall with the night sky behind it. He burst through the opening and searched the landscape for signs of the children, but they were gone.

  He spied a pair of batwing doors set into the earth, and he gritted his teeth. The cowboy had used his chalk to draw an escape.

  Someone had covered the other side of the doors with a huge plank of wood, so that the far side of the batwings was completely blocked from view. Dr. Mandrill pushed down on one of the doors, but the plank was fastened tightly, probably nailed into the wall. It wouldn’t budge. He hauled off and kicked down at the door, rattling it in its hinges, but the plank support held tight. He stepped forward onto the batwings and jumped on them furiously, bringing his full weight down on the doors, but still, the support didn’t give. He spat angrily into the grass and headed back through the opening into the Writer’s Bloc. He climbed back through the hole in the wall, pushed his way through the motel room, and found his examination room still waiting for him on the other side of the door. The dental chair was still there, too, but his patient was not. Judy had been cut free, probably by one of her more courageous fellow receptionists. Her bonds hung in tatters from the sides of the chair.