by Joanne Durda
Theo, enshrouded with deep psychosomatic concentration, then put his head down and waited for them to start, the players ready to play with each in position.
After several seconds, the wind rose quietly. Then it became more powerful. Thunder started to pound lightly, then became more deafening as the lightning turned harsh and vicious. The hostile midnight sky came fiercely alive in answer to Theo’s spoken words. The Moon had granted Theo’s psychic wishfulness out of respect for these ancient Monks and Shamans who had helped so many throughout the centuries past.
Imbecile became too excited at what was about to happen and started to hyperventilate. Onion had to gently pat him on the back to still him.
Theo looked at a subdued Octagon and nodded his head to him to began the strange ritual. An obedient Octagon opened a pouch into the air, letting its green soil contents with blackened ingredients carry into the wind. The mystic concoction aroused the seedlings from the deep, dark unreality into the reality of breathing life. The earth came to life, and it rumbled and shook as the seedlings rose up from the ground and uprooted themselves. Mustering all their strength to pull their ankles and feet from the mucky ground, which held them down tightly, they broke free from restraint.
Fear rose inside Imbecile against the creatures of the night, so frightening were they. Before Imbecile stood the knotty branches of all sizes and shapes with thick, ugly protruding thorns. They moved roughly, with stiffness in them. Imbecile’s fear of them made him hide inside his hood. Onion’s telepathic mind read the fear in the shaking Imbecile. He knew snowdrops of thought would remove his fear of the creatures, so great was it. What terrifying beings we have grown and created! a sober Onion thought to himself.
Octagon looked out at the scary, perplexed creatures and whispered quietly to himself, “This scene is alarming. What manner of man have we created here?”
Meek was aghast at what he saw, and he too had to pull himself together. Even Alme, who feared nothing, was frightened at what he saw. He wondered if other Monks were as overly anxious as he was.
Pentangle, Ebrix, Xnug, Oxon, Sooth, Uhl, Emm and Radish, with other lesser Monks, helped direct the thorns into the steaming baths. They walked roughly and haphazardly in a single file line towards these boiling pots filled with their mystical bath of livingness. The living waters contained herbs of white oak bark, white pine bark, witchgrass, fireweed, witch hazel and oils of frankincense and myrrh, with the oil of carnations added as a last ingredient for healing. Each thorn figure eagerly stepped inside and slid underwater, rose up slowly, then stepped out more vigorously than they had stepped in – their bark taking on a more deeper, darker color from the oils used. The steam caressed their bark and felt good to them. The mystical living waters had granted them more flexibility. They now walked more upright with a little bit more strength and firmness after their hot, erotic bath. The impenetrable dirt mixture from around their feet and ankles was forever washed away. The Thorn Army gathered information as they were granted strong form and life. They were grown and cultivated by the Monks only to listen and obey; no tongue was given to them for speech. The essence of their very bark conformed to the highest command of obedience.
Theo, with some of the other Monks, watched with interest and pride at their Thorn Army that they had planted and grown themselves.
“Who would have ever believed we could have grown and cultivated an army such as ours?” Meek asked with amazement.
Theo chuckled. “The sacred mushrooms performed well with our own daring, cryptic ingredients.”
“The poppies! Yes, I do believe the poppies mixed with the sacred mushrooms helped immensely with our endeavor,” Meek remarked anxiously.
“It is not over yet, Brothers. Savagio is our next ingredient,” Alme reminded his Brothers.
Octagon frowned at Alme’s spoken words. A strange feeling crept over Octagon as if he felt as though he was being watched. He looked at the tower window where Savagio’s quarters were. As far away as he was, he felt Savagio’s eyes upon him.
A troubled Savagio stood gazing out from his open tower window. He had prepared himself for first light, when the moon would still be up, watching as the sun peeped slowly. He stood leaning up against the sill, his long white lounging robe falling to the floor. His massive, handsome chest lay wide open as he felt the wind touch his skin with light stroking, as if it did not want to offend this handsome warrior. He gazed out the tower window at the fields of thorns. He saw steam rising due to all the boiling, simmering pots. The thunder was terrifying, and the harsh platinum lightning was blinding to one’s eyes. The rain did not weep, but kept its tears to itself. He was most amazed at how gentle and kind the wind was to his skin, even though the night was cruel with its thunder and lightning. He smiled as he thought how it seemed the wind was trying to make love to him, or perhaps lure him into his bed to sleep. Maybe it was the hot soup and golden bread the Monks had fed him for dinner. The creamy soup was heavy with mushrooms and beef stock, and some strange herbs – the herbs being unknown to him. His head reeled for a while, as if he needed to lie down. But he was not ready for rest, yet. Cones of passionflower incense, for sleep and soothing troubles, burned throughout his room, trying to induce him to sleep, and to sleep peacefully. He realized the Monks knew about the troubled folds of his heart. I must not think of her, he thought to himself as he brushed the memory and smell of her away. His mind immediately made an effort to forget her.
Strange, how there is no rain with this violent force of nature unfolding before my very own eyes, he thought to himself. He watched as the steam got heavier, as if it was enshrouding the fields so that he could not be made aware as to what was taking place out there. He knew the Monks were performing a cryptic ritual which no others were permitted to watch. He strained his eyes and thought he could see the tall, muscular Octagon. His skin prickled and a creepy sensation crawled up his back.
“Strange people, these Monks be. I feel uneasy at what is about to come forward. I shall have to be observant, watch my own back – no thoughts of her must shadow my mind and hinder my own self being at this given time,” Savagio whispered to himself in deep thought.
The wind turned more savage and started to howl, but still no downpour came. The hidden fear of nature was releasing itself, but Savagio knew there would be no weeping of the rain tonight – no puddles would appear on the ground tomorrow.
“The rain will only put the fires out that they have all built to warm the fields and whatever is simmering out there,” Savagio summed up to himself. “So, it is true. These Monks are powerful and can cultivate power if they want to. And I believe that tonight they have accomplished what they had set out to do.”
At those spoken words, the moondust fell from the moon and enveloped the thorns. The cryptic ritual was completed. A groggy Savagio staggered to his bed and fell upon it. He immediately lost himself in a deep slumber, and slept the sleep of the dead that night.
In the meantime, while Ushi tossed and turned and tried to sleep on the cold marble floor of the cave, with Goldest giggling all night, and while Savagio contemplated about the eeriness of the scene outside his open castle window, the Tooth Fairy Princess, in deep distressful thought, sat at her long table in the main dining hall of the castle, toying with her potato and radish soup. Her dinner of stuffed chicken lay untouched, and had grown cold. Goldest’s two pastel snake buddies, Meta and Methna, peeped into the room and saw the lonely princess. A single tear feel from her eye into her soup. The two sad snakes slithered up to her and with their large, dark green eyes looked up at her. The princess felt their presence in the room and looked down at them. She sighed heavily. Do not give me those sad, sad eyes, the princess thought to herself, with emotional exhaustion.
“Sorry, no more of your games tonight – or any other night,” she told them with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Meta and Methna whimpered. They missed their playful little friend and wanted her to come back. They blamed the princess
for letting Ushi go, because he had taken Goldest with him. They had wanted to go with her, but she told them that they could not. They were to stay here and keep an eye on the princess, and if Savagio should return, to cause havoc with him and the princess. The princess was in their safekeeping – keeping her away from Savagio, with whatever means were deemed necessary. Those were Goldest’s orders to her two buddies, whom she had befriended and whom she’d molded into her two most trusted companions. She had enlisted them with just cause to keep Savagio away from the princess until Ushi and she returned. The princess belonged to Ushi and not to Savagio. She had stressed that fact to her two buddies before she had left. Meta and Methna had pledged their loyalty to the golden frog.
The princess sighed again, and looked down at the faces and two pairs of pleading eyes of the snakes. “I suppose you miss Goldest just as much as I miss Ushi’s presence. I can feel how cold the castle has become since he has left. There is no love to warm it.”
The princess pushed her soup away and walked slowly to her room feeling heartsore. Her heart felt heavy within her bosom and she felt chilled to the bone. She had Sabira put mounds of woolen blankets on her bed. She lay in bed and still shivered with coldness throughout the night. The listless fire burned in the fireplace without passion. The flames did not dance their normal fiery dance of ardor.
“Why am I so cold?” she whispered to herself, wondering if Ushi was as chilled as she was.
The first colorful rays of light appeared on the horizon and brought out the full gleam of the spectrum on the marble ground within the Kingdom of Marble. With it came some warmth. A giggling Goldest hopped out of the marble cave and into the clear glass lake with the colorful glass fish. This time, the fish swam right up to her and looked at her strangely, face to face. She sunned herself on her back in the water. The fish swam around her, unafraid. They had grown use to this gold piece that kept intruding in their waters with her tantrums of splashing.
A very stiff and sore Ushi walked out of the marble cave and stretched as he tried to loosen his joints up. He had passed a cold, sleepless night. He felt like ice and let the sun’s rays warm him and his heart before he saddled up Niciu and put their supply pack on their packhorse. “What I wouldn’t do for a good night’s rest! This heart of marble was made for sculpturing – not to be slept on,” he shouted to Goldest, as she lay in the water, choking on her croaks and giggling.
The bright golden sun was fully awakened and up. The Thorn Army stood at attention – stick figures of fleshless organisms who looked like creatures of the undead. Massive, thick thorns stood aggressively throughout their dark, colorless, harsh bodies. The bright gleam of the sun’s rays gave their deadly thorns a glaring sheen, but their bark still retained a damp look about it.
Savagio paraded slowly around and through these rows of militant thorn creatures as the Monks watched with apprehension mounting within themselves. Theo, Octagon and Meek anxiously waited for Savagio’s remarks about this army that he was to train.
Savagio touched some of their sharp thorns, his fingers cutting easily at just so fine a touch. He looked strangely at the Monks. As anxious as they were, they had satisfaction at what they had grown written all over their faces.
Theo walked forth towards Savagio with Pentangle and Xnug following. He turned and motioned for two strange faces, Sectangle and Decadence, whom Savagio had not recalled meeting or seeing around the castle or its grounds. Some of the other Monks followed who were out in the field with Theo and his favorites. Savagio had taken notice that the Monks were clothed in darker grayish woolen robes today instead of their normal white woolen or light grayish robes. They also changed their white woolen socks to black woolen socks with even darker colored bark sandals. Their change of look seemed to have taken on a new meaning today for them, Savagio summed up to himself. Savagio left the rows of the Thorn Army and met up with the approaching Theo.
“Our Brothers, Pentangle and Xnug, are to be the keepers of our Thorn Army. Sectangle and Decadence are to be their caregivers and make the decisions on when to bath them in their steaming herbal baths filled with vitalism,” Theo explained to Savagio.
Sectangle and Decadence bowed their heads in respect to Savagio.
Theo continued on, “All my Brothers here will help them when needed. In the meantime, Pentangle and Xnug are to help you into turning our thorns into fighting warriors. You may command anything from them, and they shall obey – always!” Theo looked sternly upon a robust Pentangle and Xnug, who threw out his hefty chest.
Pentangle and Xnug reluctantly bowed their heads in respect and acknowledgment to Savagio. The reluctance was due to them believing they were more skilled with their minds and bodies than Savagio could ever be. But, Savagio was a fighting warrior, and they were not. Therefore, they had no choice in the matter but to follow and honor Theo’s wishes and commands. Savagio bowed his head in return.
“If you need to question Decadence as their caregiver, mark that his tongue has been cut out. You must seek out Sectangle for your answers,” Theo informed Savagio.
Curiosity overcame Savagio, knowing how strange these Monks were. “Why was his tongue cut out?”
“You see, Savagio, Decadence is our deliverer of messages across the kingdoms to what lies beneath the soil,” Theo started to explain, but Savagio cut him off with a wave of his hand.
Savagio now looked baffled at Theo, not understanding these strange Monks and their secret customs. He changed the subject, not really wanting to know their strangeness any more than he had to. Savagio concluded that maybe his tongue was removed in case he fell into the wrong hands; then they could not extract information from him. He delivered his messages in another way. All this was not important right now. He knew these ancient Monks and Shamans were never purposely violent, but keeping peace amongst themselves as with the other kingdoms. Kings and Queens for centuries had come to them for help with sicknesses, illnesses and other matters within their own kingdoms. The Monks were always willing to help rid these kingdoms of their pestilences. They were looked upon with reverence in all the other kingdoms. A tongue being cut out was not important to him.
“Let us step back and let us see how coordinated these twigs are,” Savagio told them.
“Twigs! That is an insult!” Ebrix exclaimed angrily.
Theo brushed Ebrix aside. “Hold thy tongue, Ebrix! Do not let words taunt you.”
Savagio was highly amused at Ebrix’s outburst. “With all due respect, I did not mean to insult these naked creatures.”
A smiling Savagio swiftly walked to the head of the rows of thorns as Theo, Ebrix, Pentangle, Decadence, Sectangle and Xnug stood back with their other Brothers, who had slowly gathered with curiosity towards their thorns. They watched Savagio in silence, as he officially took over their command of the thorns.
“Step back!” Savagio commanded of them.
The Thorn Army stepped awkwardly backwards.
“Step forward!”
The Thorn Army stepped awkwardly forward, with some falling to their knees.
“Step to your right!”
The Thorn Army was confused about right and left, with some stepping right and some stepping left, while some fell over sideways as they collided amongst each other.
“Raise your branches – arms!”
The Thorn Army raised their branches with their thick cluster of thorns, with some falling over backwards.
“I see you are but twigs ready to snap! We shall start our training by walking ten miles a day. This will help strengthen you as well as give you balance. Then, we shall advance to running. This will make you even stronger still. Last will be darting in and out! This should finish off your coordination. All this, before I even start to train you to use your thorns in a fighting manner,” Savagio informed the thorns, as well as the Monks.
A smiling Theo nodded his head in approval and satisfaction towards Savagio’s skilled training of their army.
“I must say, we picked our
trainer well,” Octagon whispered to Theo.
“Why, Octagon, did you have any doubt that he would not only train our army to fight, but also to be strong?” Theo remarked, his eyebrows raised in question at Octagon.
Meek’s mind was thinking realistically as he made known to all, “Stronger than us, maybe?”
A callous Uhl, who watched them grow and studied with seriousness his ancient ritual books on a nightly basis, knew what Meek’s true meaning was to his spoken question. Uhl was not one to chuckle at any words as he said, “We can command the earth to replant them forcefully, if need be, Brother.”
“Preparing the exact sorcerous, magical rite of powers for that process would take a long, long time, I’m afraid,” Onion reminded them.
“I suggest we concoct a back-up plan in case all does not go well,” Alme suggested.
Theo was angered by their weak conversation and responded, “All will go well! I find that your lack of belief annoys me most disturbingly. Have we ever failed in our endeavors? Ask yourself that one question, my Brothers.”
“We all have belief here, Brother; but, it is wise for us to follow our innermost instincts, which comes from our subconsciousness, deep within the essence of our minds,” Octagon wisely informed Theo. “We must use some sense of logic here.”
Theo chuckled at Octagon’s wiseness. Theo knew Octagon was always wise and more knowledgeable than most of the Monks, and that he was a threat to him because of it. Theo knew he must show that he had been humored at all times when Octagon spoke wisely and intelligently, so the other Monks would know that he was not so much impressed with Octagon, as he truly was.
A ruler must think of himself as the best and not let himself be outshined by another, because that would be his greatest downfall, Theo thought quietly to himself.
“Come, let us go and leave them alone to be trained by this great warrior,” Theo remarked. With his entourage, along with the other Monks watching, Theo turned and headed back to the castle and the day’s tasks, as Savagio bellowed out his commands. Pentangle and Xnug had stayed close to Savagio to assist him in any way. Pentangle kept a very close watch on Savagio, not really trusting this mighty warrior, who was so spoken highly of.