A Mother
Alan Zurückgeben woke from his sleep just as the new day began to break. He yawned and stretched, when something jarringly stopped his movement. He was being held down by his stem. A smile tugged on his lips. Heaving a sigh he began to pry his father's responsible fist open finger by finger. It was as if Nehmen was afraid that his son would leave while he slept. Assuring him otherwise was, for the most part, teaching a hoophead to lie.Released from his father's grip, Alan leaned in close and whispered:
„I'm going to get breakfast. Any preferences?“
Nehmen opened one eye, murmured a negative and fell back asleep.
Alan nodded his head. The usual, then.
Quietly he tiptoed away and went about the business of procuring a healthy breakfast. He splashed clean water on his face in the Arena before plucking two mulberries and storing them in his chest compartment. On the South Plane he brandished a folding knife and cut out a loaf of bread from the Chip Butty building. He took care to get both the crunchy crust and the soft inside. There was no telling which part his father would prefer on that morning. Similarly, he obtained a chunk of a potato chip decorating the building's roof. He was in the middle of fighting the melted block of cheese inside when he heard loud creaking and cracking. Thinking it was Big Robot Bil waking up, he went to the pit to bid him good morning. As soon as he stepped out of the Chip Butty, however, he realised that the metallic noise wasn't coming from Bil's pit. It was coming from above.
There was… Alan had to rub his eyes to believe it. There was a giant robot floating in the sky. It looked like Bil in shape and size, but it was dark grey and very dirty. On its back it was carrying a giant jet pack.
As Alan and an increasing number of onlookers watched in awe, the robot began performing some sort of acrobatics whose purpose Alan could not fathom. Finally it stilled with its feet pointing toward the expanse of the South Place. Somebody grabbed Alan's hand and dragged him back just before an extra pair of jets on the robot's shoulders ignited and the machine landed upon the Neverhood with a horrible crash. Safely on the ground, it came down to one knee and brought its large flat hand up to its chest. Onto the platform stepped a cloaked figure with an extremely large head. They were brought to the ground level, where they outstretched their arms, shrieked something, and charged straight at Alan.
It crossed the Neverhoodian's mind to fight back, but he was too stunned to react in time. The mysterious person ran into him, wrapped their arms around him, and gave him a crushing, enthusiastic hug.
“It's me Nehmen! I came back! Don't you recognise me?”
“Um, I...” Alan was trying to phrase in a polite manner that he couldn't well recognise someone with their face hidden by a gigantic hood, when the stranger gasped and tugged at Alan's stem in an achingly familiar gesture.
“Have you dyed your stem? And your eyes… oh. Oh! You aren't Nehmen!” The person pressed a hand to his mouth. “Who are you?”
Glad for some semblance of normality Alan straightened, smiling pleasantly. “I am Alan Zurückgeben, son of Nehmen Aber Zurückgeben, resident of the Neverhood. You must have confused me with my father, we do look...”
“Alan?” the stranger echoed, interrupting the Hoodian rudely. “Are you… He… He really went through with it?”
“Pardon me?”
“Then it's no wonder that you act as if you didn't know me… because you don't!” The person giggled, quite hysterically in Alan's personal opinion. “Oh Alan… I am Caline! Your mother!” they exclaimed hopefully, drawing their hood back and shrugging off the travel-worn cloak.
And Alan did recognise her. What he had taken to be a large head were actually twin brown stems, swollen into the size of bells, dangling above her head. Her fair skin, red lips, curving waist – there was no mistaking it. This was the woman whose name father still sometimes called in his sleep, although he wouldn't utter it in the daylight. This was Caline.
And even as Alan knew it was incredibly stupid, even though he hated his mouth for uttering it, he shook his head and said: “I have no mother. I only have a father.”
Immediately he regretted his unneeded words. Caline's expression fell and the woman took a step back.
“I'm so sorry,” Alan wrung his hands. “It was very wrong of me to say that! Please forget about my reaction, it was… enormously inappropriate, I'm so sorry...”
At his embarrassed babbling, Caline finally smiled a little. “It's okay, Alan… I know I haven't been there for you. But I can make it up to you, I swear.”
“I um… I'd like that,” Alan said, struggling to sound genuine. He wasn't prepared to have this conversation. “So, how was your trip?” he asked to divert the woman's attention.
The distraction worked wonderfully. With the growing crowd's attention on her, Caline began to chatter excitedly. Alan knew he should have been focusing on her story, however, his mind kept wandering. Why exactly had this woman jumped down the drain fifteen years ago? What did she come back for? Did she still love Alan's father? And where was Alan's spontaneous hostility toward her coming from?
These questions swirled in his head until, with a sharp outcry, his father appeared on the scene. Like Caline had before, Nehmen threw his arms out and ran to gather his loved one in his embrace. He spun her around several times, cackling happily, then gave her a kiss on the mouth.
“I thought you were gone!” he cried out. “Oh, I've never been happier in my life!”
As Alan was watching the touching reunion, a small ugly part of his mind finally answered his last question. Caline had his father wrapped around her finger, even after all these years. But she had never been responsible with that power. She had hurt his father in the worst way possible. She had taken away his purpose in life because she had failed to be strong enough and be there for him. That small part of Alan vividly hated her.
But all that was gone in a second, as Alan realised with horror what he was thinking and stomped the feelings into the ground. His father was happy now. Alan should be too.
“Everybody!” Nehmen shouted, pulling Caline and his son close to him. “Look at me! I've got my family back!”
“Hooray!” the crowd cheered for him.
“No!” Caline exclaimed, making an attempt to step away. Nehmen held her in place with this puzzled look. “No,” Caline repeated, struggling to come free of his one-handed embrace.
“Listen to the lass, punk,” somebody said, prying Nehmen's arm away from Caline's waist. He was wearing the same worn travel cloak as Caline and his hands were greasy with oil.
“Who're you?” Nehmen spat with sudden ice in his voice. In answer there was a blinding explosion of rainbow and music. When Alan blinked the after-images from his eyes, there was a yellow guy with a slim blue crown on his head, grinning from ear to ear.
“I am Ottoborg! That-” he pointed at the giant robot, “is my robot! That-” he pointed at Caline, “is my protégée! And that-” he threw his arms out, “is the Neverhood, right? So we've arrived safely! Let's party!”
Alan joined in with the wave of applause and cheering, even larger than what his father had created. What a guy! Alan had always wanted to meet a person from the Hall of Records, even though he had only ever read it up until the “Until something went wrong” part. And now Ottoborg himself, one of the seven kings, came to the Neverhood! It was one life-changing surprise after the other.
As excited as he was about Ottoborg, Alan didn't forget to keep a watchful eye over his father. And so it didn't escape his attention that during the next hour Nehmen tried several times to steal Caline away. He was met with no success because each time the woman sent a pleading look Ottoborg's way and the king came to her rescue. Alan attempted to point this out to his father, but the Neverhoodian brushed him off, saying that he desperately needed to talk to her and that Alan wouldn't understand. Only when Ottoborg learned that his son Willie Trombone was alive and well did the king leave for long enough to give Nehmen his chance.
In a corner of the Public Park with Alan watching from a polite distance, Nehmen told Caline:
“Why did you come back? It was because of me, right? You missed me too much, I'm sure, so you used the first chance to return to me.”
Caline clasped her hands behind her back. “I did miss you. It's one of the reasons why I wanted to come back here… But...” She sighed. “Look. We're no longer dating. I broke up with you!”
Nehmen's jaw dropped. “When?”
“In the letter! Didn't you get it?”
“You mean this one?” Reaching into his chest compartment, Nehmen produced an old battered letter.
Caline gasped sadly. “You carry it around with you, you pitiful thing?”
“Of course,” Nehmen smiled. He took a gold ring out of the folded paper. “So that I can return this to you.” He took Caline by the finger to put it on but she yanked her hand out of his grip.
“I don't want it,” she said quickly, hiding her hands behind her back.
“Oh. Yeah, of course, stupid me.” (Alan couldn't understand how his father was still smiling.) “You want a different ring! It's a silly request but it's okay, Krevel will definitely help me out again. I'll get you an even better one!”
“No, no,” Caline shook her head. “I don't want to… I don't want to date you again. Ever.”
“I don't understand,” Nehmen said, eyebrows scrunching up.
Alan's gut told him to leave. His presence was useless, it said, he was invading on something personal. He wanted to help his father to claim this woman and be happy again, yet he felt that he couldn't be of any help at all. This was between Nehmen and Caline. It wasn't Alan's place to say anything.
Even though he hated to go, Alan left them alone.
Uncomfortably aimless without his father to look after, Alan joined the group around Ottoborg. The king told jokes, laughed loudly, and created little trinkets for the ones he liked. Willie was grinning at his side. Alan spent a while observing the commotion before, in a well chosen moment, he slipped in close to Ottoborg and whispered into his ear:
“Excuse me sir, but would it be possible to talk to you later? It's about Caline.”
The king looked at him with sparkling, yet strangely serious eyes. “If it's about Caline, you can talk to me now!”
“You are most generous, sir,” Alan said, eyes flicking to the merry crowd around them, “but it's a private matter and it doesn't bear being discussed in public. I will come later...”
“Nope,” Ottoborg said simply, and clapped his hands. “Fellas! I've got important business right now, so shoo, shoo! Come later y'all, okay?”
Stunned and embarrassed, Alan watched the crowd disperse. When he and Ottoborg were alone, Alan cleared his throat. “Sir, that was not necessary to do,” he began.
Ottoborg waved him into silence. “Cut the sir, call me Ottoborg. You're Nehmen's boy, right? Alan. Last time I saw that lad, he was a stumbling one-day-old, couldn't even speak proper. Caline's told me a lot about him, you know. Apparently they were supposed to get married…?” He raised his voice toward the end, making it a question.
“Yes,” Alan nodded eagerly. Ottoborg was already rushing headlong into his question. “She jumped off the Neverhood several days before their wedding day.”
Ottoborg pursed his lips. “At's harsh. She must've had it real bad to leave just before her wedding.”
That was Alan's cue. “Sir… Ottoborg, if it isn't too brash of me to ask, has she told you why she left the Neverhood? My father never talks about it.”
Ottoborg hesitated. “Boy, don't be so formal with me,” he chuckled nervously, playing for time. Alan watched him expectantly. Finally the king sighed and shrugged. “I guess she sees you as family, so it's fine that I tell you. See, Caline was bullied. I'm not sure why and neither is she, but a couple of folks went out of their way to make her life miserable. No matter where she went, she felt unwanted and hated.”
“But,” Alan protested, “she had my father! He loved her above anything else, how could a bunch of bullies overshadow that?”
The thoughtful, sad expression didn't quite match Ottoborg's face. “See, lad… it doesn't always work that way. I mean, what's the worth in loving a girl when you can't even make her feel safe? Now,” he added hastily upon seeing Alan's angry expression, “I don't mean to shame your dad or put blame on him. After all – Caline didn't tell him half of what was going on. I'm just saying, if he had tried to be a little more selfless, maybe things wouldn't have ended up this way.”
Silently, with not a crude word uttered, Alan wondered if the king knew anything about Nehmen at all.
To fill the silence Ottoborg asked: “So why did'ja want to talk to me?”
Alan snapped out of his dark thoughts. “Sir, if I may ask.” He graced the king with a polite smile. “Why did Caline return to the Neverhood? And why are you with her?”
Ottoborg nodded, brightening up. “We met in Smark some years back. You know Smark?” Alan shook his head. “A dingy old town, nothing cute or fancy. She'd been earning her living there for a couple of years. Never seen a cuter waitress.” He grinned, then hid the grin away. “We talked and… I visited several times more. Turned out she was homesick. You can't know the sort of life she led, boy… She saw everything that's happened in a different light. So I said that I might help her return home, even if it was just to see it one last time. And she said yes.” He shrugged. “That's how we're here.”
“Then she came because she missed father, didn't she?”
“Not particularly,” Ottoborg shrugged again, uncertain. “Sure, she missed him, and sometimes she wouldn't shut up about him… but… well. You seem like a reasonable kid so I'll be honest. From what I've seen? Your dad isn't such a prize, really. Yeah he's got a pretty face and he's got charms, but here,” he patted his heart, “he's got only himself, if you know what I mean.”
“No,” Alan smiled. The expression felt acidic on his face as his polite composure finally broke. “I don't. If you really knew my father, you would know how dedicated he is to Caline. Her leaving did nothing to change that. If anything, he loves her more.”
A disagreeing frown passed across the king's face, but he shrugged and smiled. He clapped Alan on the shoulder. “Let's see about that, shall we?”
With Ottoborg once more in the claws of curious Neverhoodians, Alan headed back to the Public Park to check on his father. Nehmen was leaning against the wall, strumming sad notes on his stem. Caline was nowhere to be seen. Alan could guess what had transpired. He asked anyway.
“How did it go?”
“Could've been better,” Nehmen muttered. “She won't listen to me at all. I tried to get through to her, but...” He sighed loudly. “In the end she ran off. Why is she being so stubborn?”
Alan patted his father's shoulder. Ottoborg's words were on his mind, heavy any threatening, and, which was the worst part now that he recalled them with a cold head, mostly true.
“I've talked to Ottoborg,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” Nehmen uttered without much investment. He was too lost in his misery to muster the attention.
“He said it would do you good to be more selfless.”
Nehmen looked at his son with brief, open disgust. “Boy, you've got no idea how many times I've heard that from people. You might want to try something new.”
Unfazed Alan shrugged. “I do think that you should try anew. Caline still cares about you. You just need to show her that you've matured and win her over again.”
His father perked up. “You're right! Everything's not lost. She's been away for a long time after all, it's no wonder she's forgotten a bit of what an awesome boyfriend I am.” He pulled at Alan's stem. “Thanks, kiddo! You always know how to cheer me up.” He set his hands against his hips. “Let's go get some red roses!”
Alan grabbed him by the elbow to prevent him from marching off. “Wait, dad.” Nehmen gave him a dirty look. Alan continued: “Don't just throw yourself at her. She's been gone for a long time, surely she needs time to adjust first.”
“True love doesn't have time,” his father stated.
“On the contrary,” Alan disagreed, “true love has lots and lots of time because it lasts forever.”
His father rubbed his lips thoughtfully. “Okay junior, you got me there. So what do you propose?”
“We should think this through,” Alan insisted. “First you should re-establish yourself as her friend. Make her feel comfortable around you. Then you can start giving her red roses.”
“That sounds… weird.” Nehmen made a face. “Can't we skip the friend bit and go straight to roses? It worked out fine last time.”
Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere, Alan thought hard of something that might slow his father's momentum. Then it came to him.
“Why don't we ask uncles about it? They might have something to say.”
Nehmen snorted. “Those two haven't had a romantic relationship in their life. If anything, they should go to me for love advice!”
“But uncle Krevel has been a good friend of Caline's, hasn't he? He can tell you a thing or two about that,” Alan didn't relent. Krevel was cautious and rational, surely he would back Alan up. Nehmen couldn't afford to scare Caline off by coming on to her at full force, especially with what she had said about not wanting to date him ever again.
“Well~ fine,” his father huffed. “At the very least they deserve to know that their beloved brother has something to live for again.” He beamed at Alan happily, and the smile was so bright that Alan decided to swallow that he had been trying to be Nehmen's “something to live for” ever since he'd been born.
The meeting was held in Krevel's room for the sake of privacy, a fact Nike the claustrophobic wasn't too happy about. With Alan stationed on the bed, Krevel on his work stool and Nike leaning nervously against the wall, Nehmen clapped his hands and began cheerfully:
“Good news everyone! This old boat is getting his love back!” As Alan expected, this immediately caused a wave of uproar.
“That's way too fast,” Nike protested.
“Have you even talked to her about it? Did she agree?” Krevel asked, concerned.
“What do you have me for?” Nehmen frowned. “Of course I've talked to her!”
“And what did she say?”
“That she missed me and returning to me was, like, half the reason why she came back at all.”
“Was that all?” Nike cocked his eyebrows.
Before his father could start to cover up and lie, Alan stepped in. “She said she'd already broken up with him and she didn't want to date him anymore.”
Nehmen shot him a wounded look but he was unable to object. It was the hard truth.
“See?” Nike rolled his eyes. “You're jumping the gun again. You were already fine with her being gone, so why...”
“I'!” Nehmen gasped, gravely offended. “I was never fine with Caline gone! You hear me? Never! She's the only one I could ever love, so how could I?”
“Don't be melodramatic,” Nike told him. “You'll find someone else in time if you just let Caline go.”
A dangerous expression in his eyes, Nehmen walked up to his brother. “I swear.” He jabbed a finger in the middle of Nike's chest. “Caline is the only one I could ever want. She's the only person in the universe who can make me happy. You got that?”
“What about Alan?” Nike retorted. “He's been working his ass off to keep you happy.”
“Alan of all people would understand how much I need Caline,” Nehmen snapped. “Right, junior?”
All eyes turned to Alan. The Hoodian sighed and nodded. “Right.”
“See?” Nehmen glared at Nike. “So if you two could help me with getting her back, that would be greatly appreciated!”
The hoophead heaved a sigh. “Oh my Quater, you're as stubborn as the Tickberger. Fine. We'll help you out. Right bro?” he turned to Krevel.
The red Hoodian nodded. “We've got your back.”
“Good!” Nehmen grinned widely. “Now, junior here has had some remarks about my way of courting. Care to say anything, pal?”
Alan cleared his throat, a little surprised that his father actually remembered to give him the word. “Yes. Thank you. My opinion is that if father wants Caline to fall for him again, he needs to become a better person. He needs to show her that he has changed, and that she can depend on him for anything.”
“Objection,” Nehmen cut in, sulking. “She could always depend on me for anything.”
Nike snorted. “Like that one time you promised to do the laundry but instead you spent the whole day playing 'Slap dat butt'?”
“That was only once!”
“I can name more incidents like that.”
“Gentlemen,” Alan sighed. “I think you'll agree with me on this: Father's character would profit the most if he became more selfless and patient. So, instead of rushing in head-first, he needs to court Caline slowly. Any suggestions how to do that?”
Nike frowned. “Honestly the entire idea sounds crappy to me. If it were me, I'd bring her roses and tell her I love her.”
“That's exactly what I wanted to do!” Nehmen erupted.
Alan raised his hands defensively. “That's, uh, quite the opposite of what you should, um, do...”
“No, Alan's right,” Krevel chipped in. “You should go slower. Caline isn't a one-day-old anymore and she's seen more of the world than the four of us combined. You can't expect her to fall for the same old trick again.”
“Then what?” Nehmen pursed his lips like a scolded child.
“I don't know. Give her some space for starters. I mean, she's only come back today after – what –fifteen years of being gone?”
“Fifteen years, one month, and seven days,” Nehmen muttered. To Krevel's astonished stare he said: “I've been counting.”
The Hoodian cleared his throat. “Well, after such along time, she'll definitely need time to adjust, don't you think? The last time she was on the Neverhood, it was living hell for her.” Alan recognised a phrase from Caline's farewell letter, and he knew that his efforts to slow his father down were justified. “She needs to see that things have changed.”
“One thing has not changed,” Nehmen declared proudly. “My undying love for her.”
“Yes, yes, we all know that you're a hopeless romantic,” Nike grinned and stretched out to pat Nehmen on the shoulder before leaving. “So we're all set, right?” he turned in the door. “You, brother, are to lay low and wait until Caline's feeling at ease. If you ever need a distraction, come and get me, I'll fix something up.”
Alan supposed that this was about as good as things could get.
In the following days, Nehmen was consistently and dutifully kept from overly interacting with Caline. Mostly it was Alan who watched over him, but his two uncles did a lion's share of the work as well. Thankfully Nehmen didn't act up too much. He only ran off about twice a day, and even then he was usually found before he managed to do something bad.
During these days, Caline received several letters of apology. They were all from Hoodians who had bullied her in the past. Most of them, the letters said, had felt awful when Caline jumped down the drain. They had never realised they had been hurting her so much, to them it had been a game. They all hoped they could be friends again. There was one letter, though, which Caline showed to Alan with confusion and sadness and asked for his opinion. This letter also acknowledged that their deeds were evil, however, its author didn't apologise. He only said that it was impossible to erase the past. The letter was signed with “K”, which wasn't very telling. But, as Caline whispered to Alan in a worried tone, she suspected that it was from Krlesh.
“I see,” Alan said, rubbing his lips. He wasn't sure what the woman wanted him to do about it.
“Do you know him?” Caline asked.
“Not very well. The Hall of Records doesn't write about him.”
She fidgeted with the letter. “He was their leader,” he said quietly. “He was the one that started the whole thing. I always thought that he was doing it because he was lonely.” She glanced up, looking for reassurance.
“I suppose?” Alan said, not overly helpful. “I've never thought about it that way.”
“I think he must have been very lonely,” Caline murmured, looking at her hands. “Even today the Hall of Records doesn't write about him.”
“Don't tell me,” Alan smiled in disbelief, “that you feel compassion toward him.”
“Why not?” Caline looked up. “He's a pitiful being.”
“But he hurt you. He made your life a living hell.”
Caline smiled a small, helpless smile. “But that's because he was sad and lonely. Doesn't Nehmen hurt you when he's angry?”
The question took Alan aback. He wanted to blurt out: “No, never!” But it wasn't the truth.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I… I do tend to get caught in the cross-fire. And… he never apologises.”
“See?” Again with that small but somehow beautiful smile, Caline reached out to tug at his stem. Alan let her. “It's easier to forgive than to hold onto a grudge.”
In that heartfelt moment Alan thought of his grudge against Caline, and he suddenly hoped that one day he could also forgive her. Even if she would never be his mother. She was a gentle soul, and of all people in the universe she understood his hardships with Nehmen the best. Maybe, he thought, it would be nice to be her friend. One day when she didn't disgust him so.
Days went on. A week into his stay, Ottoborg finally worked up the courage to read the Wall of Records. He emerged pale and wide-eyed, and it was only then that they learned his Wall of Records had been lost during the disintegration of his world, and he'd had no news of his seven sons since then. His reunion with Willie on the first day had put him into an extraordinary mood. This changed. Later that day, he scared a good couple of Neverhoodians by bursting into tears in the middle of a “yo papa” joke and draining colour from half the Neverhood before Hoborg could calm him down. The king later restored colour to the grey world, and they seemed even more vibrant than before, but Alan would never forget the sight of the skinny yellow figure, sobbing in the middle of a grey expanse.
To Nehmen's dismay, Caline took it on her to console Ottoborg afterwards.
On the following morning, excited gossip filled the Neverhood: there would be a weasel feast in the evening. Everyone but Klaymen and Hoborg knew. Hoborg was kept in the dark because he would forbid them from hunting a weasel, and Klaymen because he would tell Hoborg. Everyone else was either a good sport, or loved weasel meat too much to pass up on the opportunity.
Ottoborg belonged to the first group. When he was explained the tradition of playing Willie's music box to lure a weasel from the underground, he was ecstatic. He even volunteered to be “the player”, that is, the person who would play the music box. This was a little dangerous, as the weasel would emerge close to the source of the music, but Ottoborg waved the concerns off. As long as he was seated high enough on the wall of the Arena, he'd be fine, he said. If the worst came to worst, he could use his divine powers to get himself out of the pinch. It seemed to Alan that he meant the last part as a joke, but it made him wonder. Could the power to create be used in a fight?
He brought this up in a conversation with his father and uncles and they tried to come up with various ways of how creating could aid a person in battle. Not only would a creator always have any weapon or soldier at his disposal. He could also change the terrain, make traps for the opponent on the spot, maybe even bend the light to his advantage. All in all, they agreed, a creator would be a formidable foe, one that you really didn't want to start a fight with.
In the evening, almost the entire Neverhood gathered in the Weasel Arena. Helping each other they climbed its rocky walls to sit of their flat top, bickering good-naturedly for the best spots. Alan was holding a spot for Nehmen as he'd been asked to. It was more than suspicious that Nehmen hadn't turned up yet. It was the customary duty of the organiser to procure an explosive doll and place it into the Arena. Judging by Nehmen's absence, Alan could guess who the organiser was.
From his perch the Hoodian watched as Caline bid Ottoborg good luck in front of the Explosive Shack and motioned him to come sit with her. Ottoborg shook his head and whispered something into her ear with a devilish smile. Caline gave him a doubtful look, but shrugged and climbed the wall alone.
When the idle crowd began to grow loud in anticipation, an orange head peeked out of the Shack. Alan gave his father thumbs-up – they were ready to start. Nehmen grinned and ducked back inside. He emerged seconds later with a red dynamite man, and motioned Ottoborg to follow him to the centre of the Arena.
Once in the middle, Nehmen set the doll of explosives down and raised his hands in the air. A wave of cheering washed over them.
“Hey everybody!” Nehmen shouted so that everyone could hear him. “Welcome toooo… weasel hunting!” He waited until the hoorays died down. Alan smiled. His father really could get the crowd going. He was an amazing showman. “Now, today's hunt is special becauuuuse… we've got the awesome king Ottoborg as our guest!” Ottoborg waved with a wide grin, the eye in his palm winking in Caline's direction. “And even better than that, tonight we've got a surprise for y'all. I'm sure you'll love it! I know I will.”
Alan had a bad feeling about this. His father pulled the music box out of his chest compartment. Ottoborg stepped forward to take it, but Nehmen shook his head with a grin. “I'm gonna play the music box for you. 'Cause tonight, Otto ain't the player but the slayerrr!” He bellowed the last word for everyone to hear.
“Did he tell you about this?” Alan turned to Nike and Krevel. They shook their heads.
“If I had known there would be a slayer, I would have stayed out of it,” Krevel said uncomfortably.
“Oh relax,” Nike grinned. “We'll get to see a creator fight! Besides, what's the worst thing that can happen?”
“I don't know...” Krevel mumbled doubtfully. “Is Ottoborg even made of best klay?”
Before Alan could echo the concern, Nehmen slid in next to them. “Eyy,” he greeted. “This is gonna be one hell of a slaying! Prepare your chest doors!”
“Dad, I don't think-” Alan began. In the Arena, Ottoborg was looking up at his father with wide eyes. He didn't look like he had known of the surprise either.
But Nehmen didn't hear him. Looking into the distance, he adjusted the music box in his lap and began to play it. Following his gaze, Alan realised that his father was looking straight into Caline's eyes. The Neverhood listened to the tune intently, and tensed up when the faulty mechanism broke the melody.
One resident of the island was so angry with the interruption that it screamed. Excitement rose as the ground shook, and the tremors only grew stronger. Finally the wall several metres under Alan erupted in a shower of stone debris and a bright red weasel burst into the Arena.
Ottoborg froze, staring at the beast as it took in its surroundings. When it located its two snacks and ran toward them, he screamed and bolted. He watched from behind the mulberry tree as the weasel stopped by the dynamite man, sniffed at it, and gulped it down in one swallow. Alarmed, Alan turned to his father.
“It was lit, wasn't it?” he asked.
A little wide-eyed, Nehmen shook his head.
“English, please,” Nike growled. Listening back to his words, Alan realised he had slipped into his father's native language.
“The explosives weren't lit,” he repeated in common tongue. He glared at his father. Was it possible that it had been on purpose?
Back in the Arena, the weasel raised its head and sniffed again. It was turning slowly round and round, smelling so much food that it didn't know where to go first. It wandered to the nearest wall and scratched at it uselessly. The Hoodian on top scrambled back but they were safe on their perch. Luckily it seemed like the weasel wasn't a climber. It turned away, agitated, and resumed searching the Arena.
“What's going on? Why doesn't it explode?” the audience were chattering among themselves, louder and louder. Next to Alan, Nike stood up.
“The dynamite wasn't on fire!” he yelled, his strong voice carrying nicely over the clamour. “We need to get Ottoborg out of there! Does anybody have a ladder?”
No one did. Beside Alan, Krevel was muttering feverishly into Nehmen's ear:
“...not even a rope? A spare dynamite stick? Nothing?” Nehmen was shaking his head. Krevel wiped his forehead. “Damn it, Nehmen, you're supposed to prepare those things when you set up a weasel hunt! Did you forget or are you dumb?”
Alan's father licked his lips. “It's fine. He's a creator, he'll pull through.”
“Even then, it's your responsibility. By Quater, don't you know what happened...” Krevel's mouth hung open. “Oh no.”
The red weasel was approaching the mulberry tree. Behind it, Ottoborg was in the grasp of panic. His chest was heaving and his mouth was forming frenzied words, but their sound was lost in the alarmed tide of voices. He peeked around the trunk. The weasel snapped its claws. Ottoborg broke into a run.
Horrified, Alan watched the king make a beeline for the Explosive Shack. He slammed into the door with his entire body but it didn't budge. It opened to the outside, Alan remembered. Ottoborg reeled back but regained his balance quickly. Then he froze, staring at the door. The weasel was getting closer by the second.
“What's he doing?” Alan asked nervously. Beside him Krevel gasped.
“There's no handle. He doesn't know-”
A pair of claws snapped just behind Ottoborg and the king bolted. He ran around the beast and into the open space where he hesitated. All Neverhoodians were yelling at him: encouragements, tips, but their voices drowned each other out uselessly. Like before, Nike tried to shut them up with a loud shout, but to no avail. He couldn't break through.
“Well,” he yelled for the closest ones to hear, paler than usual, “I'm open to suggestions.”
Down in the Arena, Ottoborg's back hit the wall. He stared up at the weasel, paralysed with fear. The Neverhoodians up above could see that if he just continued to the right, he could escape in the red put-put car. But the king was deaf to their cries. He closed his eyes and hung his head. Alan thought he could see him saying something. But it was impossible to hear.
The weasel raised its claws, bellowing victoriously.
Then one cry cut through the uproar, so high and shrill that Alan clamped his hands over his head on instinct. “Ottoborg! Make spikes!”
The king raised his hands, palms out, defeated. The weasel charged in to snap off his head. Alan closed his eyes shut, his stomach turning violently at the disgusting noises.
Then everything was quiet.
“Oh my Quater,” Krevel breathed out next to him. Alan opened his eyes.
It was the most gruesome sight he had even laid his eyes on.
Jagged spikes had erupted from the ground, impaling the weasel in dozens of places. The beast was twitching, its insides spilling out of its torn belly. It made a low keening sound. Then it went limp, sagging against the needles. It was dead.
Cheering broke out, made uneasy with the sound of the less tough individuals retching. Hoodians poured down the walls, hurrying to congratulate Ottoborg on the kill and make sure he was all right. Alan followed his father, worrying about what they would find down there. This wasn't the grand effortless victory Alan had expected from a creator. Maybe they had been gravely, gravely wrong.
By the time they made it to the scene, Ottoborg was already being helped to stand. The king leaned against the nearest shoulder, pale and shivering, and he was answering all questions with a shake of the head.
Passing the slain beast, Alan had to slow down in awe. He had never seen a weasel so up close. Parts of it, yes, thrown far and high by an explosion. But never all in one piece. It was menacing.
As he marvelled at the cadaver, someone pushed past him roughly. Alan swallowed his angry rebuke when he saw it was Caline, rushing to Ottoborg's side. The woman pushed away the person he was leaning on and she took his hands gently in hers. Turning them palms up, she exposed the eyes nestled in their centre, closed and scrunched up in pain.
“I'm fine,” Ottoborg smiled at her. Followed by a full-body shudder, it wasn't very convincing. “I just got scared, is all. Nothing happened.”
“Thank Quater,” Caline sighed.
“That was your voice, wasn't it?” the king asked softly. “That told me to make spikes. It was so high, I heard it over everything else.”
Caline smiled, fidgeting a little. “I am a girl, after all.”
“Yes, you are,” Ottoborg echoed sweetly. Then his gaze travelled to the dead weasel and his expression fell. “Look at that,” he gestured toward it. “Everything I make turns sour. It's an abomination.”
“On the contrary!” Nehmen spoke up cheerfully, moving in to lay his hand on the king's shoulder. “You did a great job, slayer! Clean, too! Sometimes the explosion blasts most of the meat straight off the Hood! Tonight's gonna be a feast!”
“Clean, you say,” Ottoborg repeated quietly, looking down. He flinched when Caline slapped Nehmen's hand off his shoulder.
“I-” she choked on anger, “I can't believe you did that, Aber! To think I – but no, you haven't changed one bit. To think you would go so far as to attempt at murder, just to have me to yourself!”
Ottoborg raised his palms, alarmed. “Now, Caline, don't accuse people like that-”
“I will accuse who I want!” Caline shrieked. “This – this fepgerkin eater,” she pointed at Alan's father, “set this whole show up so that he could hurt Ottoborg!”
Astonished whispers went through the crowd and Alan could no longer keep silent.
“You're wrong,” he said, and even he was surprised by the hardness of his voice. “I saw father's face when the weasel ate the explosives. He didn't plan for that. Did you, father?”
Nehmen shook his head. “It was supposed to be a joke. Weasels always go for the red stickman first. All you had to do was light it and run.”
“Then what about the threats?” Caline stomped her foot. “You said you'd play the music box for him! And – and you did!”
“You're taking that out of context,” Nehmen argued. “I didn't mean it that way.”
“Yes, you did,” Caline snapped. “Don't play dumb with me.”
“Now, friends, don't argue,” Ottoborg tried to stop them.
“No!” Caline barked at him. “You nearly died because of Nehmen and his stupid jealousy. How can you be so calm about it?”
Alan's father snorted. “Puh-lease! He didn't 'nearly die'! He's got the power to create, he could have killed it any time and in a thousand different ways.”
“You,” tears of rage rose into Caline's eyes, “don't know shit! I'm done with you! Done!” she screamed at him and marched away. Nehmen called after her and tried to pursue, but he was caught by Alan. The Hoodian shook his head, stealing himself for Nehmen's betrayed expression. The ginger heaved a heartbroken sigh and let Caline go. He glanced at Ottoborg fearfully.
“I know you didn't want things to go sour like this, lad,” the king gave him a warm smile. “I forgive you and all. It was kinda fun, actually! Now,” he shivered when he looked at the beast he had slain, but tried his best to hide it, “are we gonna eat or what?”
After the incident Nehmen never managed to return to Caline's good graces. On every occasion she got, she made it clear how she despised him. Starting with refusing to eat the weasel meat that was offered to her. Alan's uncles tried to talk to her several times, and even Ottoborg put in a word of favour, but she had set her mind. No matter how much Nehmen tried, she couldn't be persuaded to hive him another chance. And boy, did he try. Alan had never seen his father put so much honest effort into anything. However, in the end, it was in vain.
On one particularly cheerful morning Caline asked everyone to come to the Castle. Alan couldn't find his father anywhere, so he went alone. He supposed that could tell him what happened later. With Ottoborg at her side, Caline announced that she wouldn't stay on the Neverhood. Even though she loved her homeland and she would miss it dearly, she no longer felt that she belonged there. It was then that Hoborg interrupted her angrily: Where did she belong then? Her question made Alan weak in the knees.
In the evening Alan found his father at last. Nehmen was slumped in the darkest corner of the Purple Tunnel, hiding away from the world. He made no sound even after his son tugged at his stem, half to ascertain his identity, half to cheer him up. Alan sat down next to him. In the heavy, dark silence, he found himself at a loss for words. Not even a stupid phrase of polite comfort.
But he had to say something.
“So… Caline had a speech in the Castle today.”
Nehmen said nothing.
Continuing to break the silence Alan elaborated: “She… she wants to leave the Neverhood again. Hoborg is furious but he can't do anything because Ottoborg is backing her up. He doesn't want to go up against his older brother.”
That earned him a huff of air that could have been a snort on a better day. Alan knew what his father found the dark humour in. Whenever Nehmen brought up the fact that he was older in a quarrel with Caline, the woman laughed in his face saying that age was not measured in years but in experience. To have this very argument save her from Hoborg's wrath was ironic at the very least.
“Nike got angry,” Alan remarked, “that Caline is free to leave the Hood and he isn't. He argued enough in Caline's stead.” He paused. There was no easy way to say this. “I think that… Ottoborg and Caline like each other… more than friends.” He licked his lips and forced the words out, dry and bitter. “They were holding hands in the Throne Room. I thought Ottoborg was doing it for support but… then Caline said something… I don't think there's no longer any doubt…”
“Hah...” his father laughed humourlessly. Mumbling so badly that Alan barely understood him, he said. “'Share your last sandwich'...”
“What?” Alan asked, confused. Nehmen shook his head. “What do you mean?” Alan repeated.
His father sighed, and resigned himself to talking. “I already know. They told me this morning, before they went to Hoborg. Caline said… said… she belonged with Ottoborg. They wanted to tell me in person. So that I wouldn't have to hear it in the Castle like everyone else.”
It scared Alan how dead and monotone his father's voice sounded.
“So… she's gone. Like I always feared. That someone else would take her out there. It's… I should have jumped down the drain after her.”
Alan's stem stood on its end to hear that. “Don't say that.”
Again in that dead mumble: “Back then it was a viable possibility.”
“You wanted to… jump down the drain?”
An affirmative hum. “At first. Then I got the idea to create you. It was a tough decision.” He laughed, completely mirthless. “But… I guess my brothers could see into my head… They told me that it was always worth it to continue living. So, that night… I snuck into the Castle. You know the rest.”
Alan was silent. He wanted to say something but he couldn't.
The laugh that broke out of Nehmen then was sharp and ugly. It made Alan flinch. “I guess you could say that you saved me just by being born,” he chuckled hysterically. Suddenly he grew quiet. “I'm sorry,” he said solemnly. “For… this. This life. I know what Nike said was true, you're working so hard to make me happy. And all I give you back is, well… nothing. I'm just using you.”
Alan considered this. “That's not true,” he said with every bit of the conviction he felt. “I… I want to help you. Not just because I was created for it. I love you, dad. I want you to be happy. That's why I'm always trying so hard to be there for you.”
The next laugh was helpless, but also terribly fond. “Together forever?” Nehmen asked in a self-mocking joke.
“Together forever,” Alan confirmed very seriously, hugging his father close. He could smell alcohol on his breath, and he knew that later Nehmen would pretend this conversation never happened.
He was fine with it.
Since Nehmen could not stand the sight of his formed fiancé walking hand in hand with another man, he asked Krevel to hide him and his son away until the two love doves left. The time spent underground would have been dark and dreary, but they kept each other's company. They told stories, sang every song they knew, and most of all they talked. They talked of what they had done in the past, and about their dreams for the future. There was solace in the simplicity, just the two of them.
Then, on the day Krevel came to tell them that Caline and Ottoborg were leaving the Neverhood, Nehmen surprised his son by saying: “Well, let's go say bye! It's only appropriate.”
Daylight was blinding and amazing after so many days of darkness. Seeing Caline was no less blinding and amazing. The woman was nervous, but she was alit with love and happiness. In that moment Alan understood why his father had fallen for her. Such a smile was undeniable.
They both promised to keep in touch as fate allowed it. Ottoborg had it in mind to build a teleporter from his world, the Brokenhood, to the Neverhood, but he couldn't say how long the construction would take him. Until then, they probably wouldn't hear from each other at all.
Ottoborg shook their hands and Caline kissed their cheeks goodbye.
“I'd like to stay friends,” she said. It was supposed to be a conciliatory gesture. But when she and her new boyfriend got into their dark grey robot, Nehmen's eyes were blazing.
“I,” he said in a voice so quiet that only Alan could hear, but as sure as the eternity a Neverhoodian has left to live, “will never be her friend.”
And he watched the bright fleck of jet engine until it disappeared in the black sky.
