Thomas Kindercook and the Pink Pyjamas

by Gerald Feather

  “As good a place as any I suppose.” Tretchbolt dropped his pack carelessly to the ground and stretched his back. “Bumble-mouth seems to have gotten the idea as well.” Thomas had already started to clear away the area in front of the logs and setup for a campfire. Tretchbolt started to build the tents while Alanna sorted out the provisions in preparation for supper. Thomas had managed to get a fire going fairly quickly, and sat down on a log and began to write in his journal. Alanna felt badly for him. He looked so lonely sitting there on the log.

  And so went the evening into the night. As Tretchbolt finished setting up the tents, and Thomas finished stoking the fire, Alanna silently went about preparing a meal. Every so often she would glance over at Thomas who was sitting silently writing in his book.

  “Looks like it's just us for conversation princess.” Tretchbolt was finishing up the last of his fish and picking his teeth with one of the larger bones.

  “Mmmm.” Alanna really didn't feel much like talking at the moment. There were so many things that she needed to tell Thomas. She had let time slip by. She hadn't realized that she would loose the opportunity to tell him some very important information in the very near future.

  “Stumble-mouth can't cast spells, and he can't talk. He can't fight. He's not doing so well is he?”

  “Mmmm.”

  Tretchbolt regarded Alanna drolly. “Conversation isn't much better on this end either.”

  “Hm? I'm sorry Tretchbolt. I am just a little lost in thought.”

  “Don't worry about it.” Tretchbolt glanced over at Thomas who was still writing by the light of the campfire and every so often swatting at bugs.

  “At least you won't have to worry about him talking back. 'Course, when he says he didn't hear you say something, he won't be lying. Not that you'll understand anyway.”

  Alanna crossed her arms and sat rocking slightly back and forth on the old log across from Thomas. “What if Edric can't do anything for him?”

  Tretchbolt shrugged. “It's not that big 'o deal really. Then he just has to learn our language.”

  “And the magic?” Alanna added.

  Tretchbolt sat for a second analyzing Thomas before standing up.

  “Where are you going?”

  Tretchbolt stretched. “No magic means he has to learn to protect himself.

  “You can't seriously think that you are going to be able to teach him.”

  “Why not?” Tretchbolt took on an indignant tone.

  “You've forgotten your Dragonese lesson already?”

  “Language is always a bother, but fighting, that's universal.”

  Alanna groaned as Tretchbolt headed over to Thomas. She had a feeling that this wouldn't end well.

  ******

  Tretchbolt had to admit, he kind of liked Thomas. The kid was like a hoover bug. No matter how hard you stepped on the damn thing, it still managed to pop back up fighting. Nothing seemed to phase the kid.

  Thomas was still writing in that silly book that he liked to carry around. Tretchbolt walked right up to Thomas, stopping just in front of him. Thomas looked up at Tretchbolt with wide eyes. This is where things were going to be a little tricky. How to give Thomas the idea that he wanted to train him.

  Making a grandiose motion, Tretchbolt flexed his impressive muscles, pinwheeled his sword arm, grabbing the hilt and in one swift motion drew it out of the scabbard. Thomas screamed, falling backwards off the log and throwing his diary precariously close to the fire. Hmm, seems screams of fear were universal also. Tretchbolt sighed.

  Thomas was still scrambling backwards. Tretchbolt reached down and grabbed Thomas' scrawny shoulder and hefted him onto his feet. He decided to take another stab at his language lesson.

  “Sword.” Tretchbolt said as he held the sword out in front of Thomas' face.

  Thomas began to rub his head absentmindedly.

  “Good gravy you can be dense kid. SSSSSwwwwooooorrrrdddddddd.”

  A light finally went on in Thomas' eyes. He tried to mimic what Tretchbolt was saying.

  “SSSssssWWWwoooooRRRrrdddd.”Thomas replied awkwardly.

  “Very good. You've just taken your first step into a larger world kid.”

  “Swword.”

  “Yes. Sword.” Tretchbolt affirmed.

  “Sword. Sword sword sword.” Thomas started dancing around. “SwordswordSWORDsword.”

  “That's enough.” Tretchbolt interrupted.

  “Swordswordsword....”

  THWACK!

  Tretchbolt smacked Thomas with the flat of the blade.

  “Enough.”

  “eee...nough.” Thomas rubbed his forehead.

  “Yes, enough.”

  “enough.”

  Tretchbolt's eyes grew dangerously wide and Thomas shrunk silently away from Tretchbolt's gaze. Taking a calming breath, Tretchbolt offered the sword to Thomas. Thomas looked warily at the sword. The boy seemed to be developing a phobia of the thing lately. Not a good sign for a prospective warrior.

  “Take sword.”

  Thomas looked worried. He seemed to know that there was importance in that first word in front of sword, but the difference between right and wrong could be the difference between getting hit again or not.

  “Take sword.”

  Thomas hesitantly reached out his hand to take the sword but paused just inches away from taking it. He looked at Tretchbolt to see if he could gauge what was going to happen if he were actually to touch it.

  Tretchbolt waited impatiently.

  Thomas touched the hilt with his fingers, stopped and looked at Tretchbolt again.

  “For good gravy's sake.” Thwack! Tretchbolt hit Thomas on the forehead again and pushed the hilt into his hand.

  Thomas held the sword awkwardly pondering what he was meant to do with it. Finally he stood up and started to walk away. Tretchbolt took a quick few steps and grabbed Thomas by the shoulder. “Whoa, hold up there kid.”

  Thomas swung around and proffered the sword to Tretchbolt.

  “You can't really be this dense. If you shove that back at me, I'm going to break off what's holding it up.”

  Tretchbolt motioned for Thomas to wait where he was. Tretchbolt retreated to his tent and came back with a second sword.

  “Alright, I know you can understand me 'bout as well as you can that doggered bug over there, however, your first lesson will be to dodge. Important thing dodging. Can't get hurt if you aren't there to receive the blow!”

  “Okay.” So now what? Tretchbolt took a few practice swings at Thomas, just stopping before actually hitting him. Each time Thomas would pull back to avoid the blow. Tretchbolt would encourage him by saying, “Dodge! That's right. Dodge!”

  Thomas seemed to get the idea that this was a lesson, but the more that Tretchbolt talked, the more that Thomas looked over to where Alanna sat, and wished for all his worth that he could be sitting next to her at the fire.

  Tretchbolt decided it was time for the real thing. Tretchbolt took a full force swing at Thomas being careful to use the flat of the sword. “DODGE!”

  Thomas, who was looking at Alanna, turned around with a start just in time to receive a mouthful of metal. SMACK!

  Thomas collapsed into a ball on the ground clutching his now bleeding mouth.

  “Um. Guess that's good for today.” Tretchbolt half bowed to Thomas and made his way back to the camp. Maybe there were some leftovers he could bury himself in.

  “Seems you haven't lost your touch.” Alanna poked wryly at Tretchbolt.

  “At least he won't forget the word dodge anytime soon.”Tretchbolt grunted and dug into the leftovers.

  *****

  Thomas clutched his mouth trying to feel with his tongue if he still had all his teeth. What was wrong with that guy? It seemed that Tretchbolt taught through attrition. You lived, you passed.

  Spitting out the blood from his mouth, Thomas was at least pleased that he still had managed to survive with all his teeth intact. There was a monster welt
however on his head from all the times that Tretchbolt had used it for a fleshy drum. Alanna had just sat watching the entire time. It wasn't her fault he supposed, but he had never felt so alone before.

  Thomas went back over to the log where he had been writing in his journal, and picked it up to finish off the entry that he had been writing. It had been a shock to see all the previous pages written in a foreign language. He hadn't realized that he had been writing in Dragonese as well as speaking it. Now he wouldn't be able to read anything that he had written previously. On the other hand, that was a two way street. Anything he was writing now, no one could “accidentally” read either. That led to Thomas thinking of the clowns. How was it they could speak Dragonese? Was it because the ring brought them into this world? Or were they, like Thomas, now finding out they couldn't speak to anyone.

  The journal lay on the ground near the fire where it had fallen when Tretchbolt had come at him with the sword. Thomas gingerly picked it up, careful not to scuff it anymore than it already had been, and dusted off the cover. He let out a long deliberate breath and pondered an ending to his entry. One of the worst days that he had spent in this world. He almost had to laugh. He'd been whisked away by floods, fought dragons and shadows, dealt with a high strung princess and ... he wasn't sure what to call Gatsby... but the worst moment seemed to be when he lost his ability to talk in this world. It was amazing how empty that had left him feeling. Empty, and helpless.

  He opened the book up to the first page that he had written on. Alien characters stared back at him. Strange how it could look so much like his handwriting without actually being in a language he understood. He guessed he would have to start the journal over again. Could he really remember everything that had happened? Some of it seemed so long ago. It had all started with that ring and the pyjamas.

  Thomas felt his stomach drop and his heart skipped a beat. The pyjamas! Thomas felt a surge of hope. He ran to his tent past a startled Alanna and tore through the flap that served as a door, so fast that it threatened to come with him. He delved into the pack and yanked the object of his desire out into the light. The pink pyjamas. This had to work. Thomas donned the girl's pyjamas for the second time. He felt foolish, but if it worked, it would be worth it. Now all that was left was to test his theory.

  Thomas strode out of the tent and plopped himself down beside a bewildered Alanna.

  Thomas was just about to say something when Tretchbolt interceded.

  “Kay 'lanna. It's official. The boy has flown off the deep end. It's sad really. I've seen the same thing happen to seasoned veterans. One day standing tall, marching strong. The next, sipping Bellyak Juice from a Vindernoot straw.”

  “Well maybe if you didn't hit him in the head so often.” Alanna stared at Tretchbolt accusingly.

  “Hey, I can't help it if the boy's a slow learner.”

  “You went after him with a sword, what is he supposed to think?”

  “Okay, so maybe I wasn't as patient as I could 'ave been. But I didn't drive him to dress up like a 'lil girl. That's the thing about wizards. They're all a little strange to begin with. No shock that this is the result when they crack.”

  Thomas did his best to hide his satisfaction with disinterest. They wanted to talk behind his back while he was right there. That was fine with him. He had been curious all day about what was going on between the two. This was his best opportunity to find out.

  Things fell silent for a time. Tretchbolt had finished eating again and was poking around the fire with a stick. Every so often he would look over at Thomas. When Thomas noticed Tretchbolt, he would quickly turn his attention back to the fire as if he had never looked.

  “Have you told him?” Tretchbolt talked without ever looking up from the fire.

  “Told him what?”

  Tretchbolt took a long, deliberate look at Thomas' arm. Then he turned his attention back to his stick and the embers in the fire. Alanna turned her attention to her nails. For agonizing minutes, the only sound that passed between the two, was the crackle of the fire as Tretchbolt stirred it. Then finally Alanna spoke. “No. Not yet.”

  “Good gravy. He has to know. I don't usually like to poke my nose into others affairs, but it's just not right.”

  Alanna fidgeted on the log while rubbing her fingers fiercely before finally giving up the charade and looked directly at Tretchbolt. “I know. Trust me I know.”

  An ominous feeling hung in the air, and Thomas was still no closer to understanding what was going on than he had been when he couldn't understand what they said.

  “So you had no part in it?” Tretchbolt's stare was hard enough to crack stone. Alanna fidgeted even more under Tretchbolt's hard gaze.

  “Of course not. I didn't know anything about it until he came back from talking to father.”

  Tretchbolt whistled. “Hard to believe the king would do that to the boy without telling him exactly what it was he was doing. Are you sure he doesn't know?”

  “Thomas might be a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them.”

  King? The tattoo! Thomas did his best to mask his worry, but he was having more difficulty now containing himself. There was something wrong with the tattoos? So far he hadn't really even given them much thought. Most of the time it was covered by his sleeve. The only time he thought about it was when he was washing and it was in plain sight. What could be the harm in it? Thomas waited in vain for the answer, but it never came. They seemed to know what they were talking about, and weren't about to say anymore on the topic. Great.

  The night wore on. Tretchbolt started burning through some of his 'essential alcohol', then ended singing a few military songs that, even if you knew Dragonese, made little sense. Finally Tretchbolt wove his way back to his tent, through the flap, and was not heard from again that night save for a crash shortly after he disappeared inside.

  “Well, I suppose we should get to sleep as well.” Alanna said more to herself than to Thomas.

  “Yeah, today has been rough.” Thomas blurted before even thinking.

  Alanna's eyes shot open. “You can TALK?!”

  A look of realization and horror fell across her face like the curtain rising on the first act of an epic play.

  “HOW LONG ....”

  “Not long! Really!”

  Alanna stared at Thomas accusingly. Her face ran a full gauntlet of emotions. Anger, fear, betrayal, and finally realization.

  “The pyjamas!”

  Thomas nodded. “I swear I was going to say something, but then Tretchbolt started talking.

  Alanna looked dejectedly downward, shut her eyes, and flushed.

  “The tattoo?” Thomas gently enquired.

  “I'm sorry Thomas.” Alanna stared at her feet, not willing to look Thomas in the eye.

  “Sorry about what? What is wrong with this tattoo?”

  Alanna stood there for what seemed like forever. Finally she spoke, but what she had to say, turned Thomas heart to lead.

  “I think if you want to hear the truth about the tattoo, you had better sit down for it.”

  Thomas sat back down beside the fire and waited for Alanna to compose herself.

  The Dragon Tattoo comes from a time before any of the Dragon clans were organized. Back then, all of the different races lived together. This was long before the humans had settled in this world. This is long before my father's time, far earlier than even the oracle's time. The seal comes from a time before anyone recorded history, and therefore, most of what was known about the seal has been forgotten. There are a few things though that we still do know.”

  Thomas could sense the weight of what Alanna was about to tell him. She hesitated before continuing, as if she were deciding as she went, what she would tell, and what she would leave out.

  “The seal was created by an unrivalled wizard... or wizards. In those times, dragons were the only ones that wielded magic, and were powerful beyond imagination. No one knows exactly who created the seal, but they can agree on th
e fact that whatever made it, had power beyond anything the world has seen since. You see, the seal reads fate.”

  Thomas looked confused. “What do you mean it reads fate?”

  Alanna came to sit closer to Thomas. She gently held Thomas' hand, and ran his sleeve up to expose the tattoo.

  “This is the first part of three. This part of the seal is set to read your fate. It is believed that this was always used as a device of marriage. Even back in the golden time, dragons vied for power against the different races. It's believed, in order to keep order amongst the different clans of dragon, this device was used to seal two different species together, presumably a prince and princess. The device would promise them immense power, but in return....”

  Thomas knew his heart couldn't take much more. He had to know what his fate was. “Please keep going Alanna.”

  Alanna closed her eyes. “In return they risked death.”

  Thomas jumped up. “Death?! What do you mean death!?”

  “The first part of the seal reads the fate of the imprinted. It contains all knowledge of your past, present, and your future. The second seal is donned at a ceremony for engagement. It prepares the seal to be shared with your intended partner. When you join with your intended in the ceremony, after receiving the second part of that seal, it will read your fiancee's fate. If it find's the fates aren't intertwined, it rejects the bond.”

  “That's a bad thing?”

  “If it rejects the bond, it will reject the host, and the host will die.”

  Thomas was too stunned for words. “I... I...”

  Alanna pressed her finger to Thomas' lips. “There's more. If you don't finish the engagement within a year of getting the seal, you will die, and if you do not get the final seal... the seal upon marriage before the fifth anniversary of the first seal....”

  “I die. I think I am catching on to a common theme here.”

  Thomas reached up to grasp the back of his head which was starting to pound.

  “Who thought up this thing? Why would anyone ever want this?”

  “Ultimate power is hard to resist for many, even at the risk of death.”

  Thomas couldn't believe that this was happening to him. It had to be a story!

  “How do you know any of this is true? Are you sure this isn't just a story to scare people away from using it?”

  “The last person to use it was when my grandfather was just a child. He was in love with a powerful white dragon. She was beautiful, smart, but as it turned out, not in love with him. It had been arranged, as things often were in the past...”