Goldest and the Kingdom of Thorns (16 page)

While the Willow Warriors were preparing their journey to the Kingdom of the Ladybugs, the sultry Mespit, with her flaming appearance, flew into the Kingdom of the Gypsies looking for a tall, handsome Gypsy Captain. She set herself on a yellow rose bush beside Captain
Frangelico, who was polishing a pair of his riding boots outside next to the sensuous smell of the yellow roses.

“Pssst, handsome!” Mespit cried out.

Frangelico looked around and didn’t see anybody. He continued to polish, thinking he had just heard a faraway voice.

“Pssst!”

Now Frangelico knew someone was trying to attract his attention. He looked curiously around and spied the gorgeous ladybug on the yellow rose bush. Her red coloring against her gold made her really stand out noticeably. Her gold had a tinge of yellow splashed upon it due to the rays shining on the yellow roses, which glimmered on the ladybug’s lustrous coat.

“Is that you, little one?” he asked the ladybug.

“Captain Frangelico?” Mespit asked him, making sure of his identity.

“What can I do for someone so beautiful as you?”

Mespit fluttered her exotic red lashes and eyes at him. She sighed at his handsomeness. Then she pulled herself together and got down to the purpose of her flight. “The ancient Monks have grown and harvested a Thorn Army,” she quietly told him.

“I’m not the least bit surprised. They can grow and cultivate whatever they want. It was time they grew an army for themselves.”

“But the thorns are attacking the Ladybug Castle! The Queen of the Willows and her granddaughter are there.” Then she thought about Ushi, knowing that the talk was that he was there, also. “Any great warrior is defenseless against an army like that!” she told him, referring to Ushi.

Frangelico thought for a moment. He knew that Ushi was there helping his friend, Goldest, rebuild her castle and kingdom. “I know of whom you speak. We shall go and help. If we do not, it might be us the next time! Do not fear, little one, we will leave immediately.”

Mespit fluttered her long red lashes at the handsome Frangelico, wanting to appeal to such a fine Captain as he was.

Frangelico rose to gather his men and make haste. He knew time was not on their side at present, knowing it would take a little time to round them all up. His men loved both wine and women, and he had given them time off to enjoy themselves for a while. He turned to take another look at the striking ladybug and smiled down at her. “Take care, little one.” Then he walked away.

“What a magnificent gypsy! I wonder if he is already taken?” Mespit asked herself, totally mesmerized by this muscular Captain.

At this point, back at the Kingdom of the Ladybugs the Willow Warriors, and the other male villagers in training to be the Ladybug Warriors, were back from their exercises in the fields. They all banded together with their swords and other fighting utensils.

They all gathered around Ushi and listened to him with open ears and hearts. “We go out to fight our opponents. If you have hatchets, bring them. My advice to you all is to try to hack them into the sticks that they truly are.” Then he turned to his most trusted Willow Warriors and told them, “We cannot be
defeated. The Queen of the Willows and the Princess Augean are inside this castle with the Queen of the Ladybugs. We must win this fight, or die trying!”

A determined Ushi went over to Niciu and mounted him. The other Willow Warriors followed suit and mounted their horses. They rode out of the open gates with the male villagers following with their weapons and fighting utensils. Some of the males were painters and artists and were not fighters. But, wanting to defend their kingdom, they followed behind with pots and pans to smack the sticks, hoping to smash them down into piles of useless rubble. They did not know the power that they were up against, and hoped for the best. Unfortunately for them, they were thinking with their hearts, not having had any military training. It is common knowledge that all artists and artistic, creative people think with their hearts, not with their minds. They are dreamers and tend to lean towards their dreams, making unreality become reality.

The Thorn Warriors were ready and waiting for their opponents. Pentangle gave the order to march towards them, which they did at once without hesitation.

A battle ensued with the Willow Warriors and male villagers trying to desperately hack the Thorn Warriors to pieces with their swords, hatchets, knives and hammers. Then there were the other villagers trying to beat them down to rubble with the pots and pans. The noise from this battle was deafening to the eardrums. The thick, monstrous thorns only dented the pots and pans. The Thorn Warriors wielded their arms and bodies, just as Savagio had taught them to, with deadly
momentum, easily slashing at and goring their opponents. It was then made apparent to all at how powerful the Thorn Warriors were against the defenders of the Ladybug Castle.

Ushi’s eyes panned the area and saw how his Willow Warriors and the male villagers were bleeding immensely from their deep wounds and gashes caused by the brutality of the thorns. The ground was turning into a slick, bloody battlefield, but his Willow Warriors and the villagers would not give in. Some of the Thorn Warriors were hacked or beaten down to broken sticks, but his Willow Warriors were taking the brunt of the fight. Ushi also noticed that Niciu was bleeding in certain areas, due to his striking out with his legs, which were being slashed repeatedly by the Thorn Warriors. “The men and horses cannot take much more of this. I will have to call them back,” Ushi hopelessly summed up.

Ushi rode through the battlefield calling out to his men to fall back. They immediately obeyed, knowing they were being slowly butchered.

“Retreat! Retreat! Retreat back to the castle!” Ushi called out.

The men and horses retreated back to the safety of the castle and its grounds. Most were hurt and injured, bleeding heavily, with some limping and in dreadful pain from their deep wounds and gashes.

Most of the Monks watched with smirks on their faces, both during the battle and at the retreat. They knew victory was already theirs. But first, they would have to climb the mountain of stubbornness which laid before them. Some of the Monks were not smiling
but frowning, as they felt a peculiar unpleasantness that they had never felt before creeping up their spines into the core of their very souls. They were not raised or brought up to slaughter men or animals to gain wealth or fortune. Their wealth lay in their talents for sorcery and magic – good or evil. Never had any of them been known to bring such horrific havoc to any kingdom. Some, like Octagon, Imbecile, Onion, Alme, Meek and others, were shamed by what was taking place at their own hands with their own army. This was not the methodical conduct becoming of a Monk. Monks were raised and trained to heal and protect, not to create violence of their own doing. Some looked downwards at their medallions in shame, while others carried on, following their leader. A few, like Pentangle, Ebrix, Xnug and some of the others, wanted the thrill of victory, not wanting to experience the agony of defeat.

Theo snickered sinisterly. “Call back the thorns. Let us see if the castle surrenders,” he ordered Pentangle and Xnug.

“They are wise enough to see that they cannot slaughter our thorns,” Meek remarked quietly, feeling somewhat ashamed.

“If they do not surrender by morning, we’ll storm the castle and take it by force,” Theo informed the Monks.

Some of the Monks cringed at Theo’s words, but knew they did not dare question them. The blood was already on their hands, and their hearts were stained deep inside. The thrill of the kill was pulsating deep within Theo’s heart, which was slowly turning to stone, unbeknownst to all present.

Alme spoke out, “Maybe we can just coerce them into surrendering without another fight.”

“Bah!” a maddened Theo exclaimed.

“Maybe I should have our thorns slash some of their women and children. That will end this senseless struggle for good,” Pentangle remarked. “We are wasting our time with the lot of them!”

Theo smiled wickedly. Some of the Monks retreated at Pentangle’s words, not wanting to be a part of this onslaught anymore.

Imbecile began to hyperventilate. Octagon put his arm around the fool and walked him to his tent, which he shared with him. “Come, Imbecile, it is time for you to lie down. This is too much stress for you to endure,” Octagon told him, with other unspoken reasons for taking cover inside their tent taking shape within his mind.

“You are too kind to that half-brain,” Theo remarked with contempt to Octagon.

“We should end his misery and put him to rest,” Ebrix quietly remarked to Theo.

Octagon overheard the remark and replied coldly, “I think not! Remember, he is our Brother.”

Octagon gave them all a dark look before he turned and continued to escort Imbecile back to their own tent. Octagon’s tent was like an ancient nomad’s tent. Many colorful rugs and blankets were strewn about, and lay over the floor and walls and draped from the ceiling. It was warm, quiet and peaceful. He had a strong, herbal incense burning – one to meditate by. Many candles were lit for inviting warmth, comfort and security. His tent was soothing to a troubled mind.
Octagon set Imbecile down on a heavy rug in the center of their tent. He looked into Imbecile’s eyes and told him, “Imbecile, only you can leave unnoticed.”

“W-w-what you m-m-mean, B-B-Brother?”

“You must ride and inform Savagio what has happened here and what is about to take place.”

“One w-w-warrior a-a-against an a-a-army of t-t-thorns?”

“Trust me, he will know what to do. Ushi needs him. They need each other,” a wise Octagon remarked.

Imbecile sniffled. “B-b-but I d-d-don’t want S-S-Savagio t-t-to die. I-I-I like h-h-him.”

“I admire him, also. He will not die. He has many adventures waiting for him. You have my word.”

Imbecile continued to hyperventilate. “B-b-but what if I should get l-l-lost? Y-y-you know I-I-I am afraid of the d-d-dark!”

Octagon rose and took out a pouch from his corner of the blankets. He opened it and put his hands inside the pouch and took out some white powder, which he then rubbed on Imbecile’s eyes.

“It b-b-burns!” Imbecile exclaimed.

“It will only burn for a moment. Let it. You will see only light. This light will guide you to Savagio. You must never close your eyes,” Octagon told him.

“W-w-what is this powder?”

“Something that I had vamped up for myself – so that I could see in the dark, when need be.”

“S-s-so t-t-that is w-w-why you ride out at night a-a-alone? D-d-does T-T-Theo know of this white p-p-powder?”

“No one knows. It’s a concoction brought together from various bright magical stones found only in the Kingdom of Marble.”

Imbecile gasped. “M-m-magical stones? H-h-how do you know?”

“There lie many secrets from our ancestors beneath the Thorn Castle. Only I, and I alone, have taken the time to explore what lies beneath us Monks. What I have found is far beyond the power of the limited knowledge that we keep locked up inside the cellar. It is best that no other knows of this. You see, Imbecile, I have elevated myself to a supreme, higher level of power than Theo could ever have done. He would demand all, and you and I both know how dangerous that could be for the Domain right now.”

“S-s-so that is w-w-why you ride alone all the time?”

“Yes, Imbecile. I go and collect the secrets to the revered ingredients that I concoct alone and put to use for myself. I have many secrets. And many mysteries are hidden within the deep recesses and folds of my heart.

“I-I-I w-w-will keep your s-s-secrets.” Imbecile wandered into deep thought while Octagon gathered Imbecile’s black-hooded woolen cape for warmth. He put it around the fool’s shoulders, getting him ready for the most needed ride.

“W-w-will my eyes c-c-close by themselves?”

“Only if you let them,” Octagon firmly told him.

The anxiety about the long ride alone ahead of him made Imbecile start to hyperventilate again. Octagon put his arm around Imbecile.

“I am more powerful than my Brother – Theo. He
cannot know, or he will have me killed. Theo’s weakness is his inner fear of being taken down by his own kind. I am the one to do so.”

Imbecile wailed, “B-b-but I am afraid of the d-d-dark!”

“Listen to me, Imbecile. There will be no darkness, only light. Look into my eyes, Imbecile, I will give you my courage. But, as soon as you come back, I will need my courage back.” Octagon was not afraid to give Imbecile his spirit and leave himself weak and vulnerable. He would deal with his weakness and vulnerability by hiding himself inside his own tent, wrapped inside his blankets for comfort. This he must do because this ride was far more important than he, and had to be. He knew Imbecile was more than feeble and so much fearful of his own shadow and of being alone. So Octagon, being the true ancient Monk that he was, gave Imbecile his mental strength to make that ride, alone, and without panic setting in.

“I d-d-don’t know w-w-what to do w-w-with courage…”

Octagon ignored Imbecile’s words and looked deeply into his eyes. “Straighten up, Imbecile, and look deep into the recesses of my eyes.”

Imbecile straightened up. The tent was filled with silence for a few moments as Octagon continued to give to Imbecile his courage. It took time, since Imbecile fought the power of his powerful, hypnotic trance. Octagon was amazed that Imbecile could fight his power.
Deep inside, Imbecile was truly an ancient Monk
, Octagon thought to himself. Octagon, being the stronger of the two, soon overcame Imbecile’s power
of mind and eyesight. Imbecile began to feel the strength enter and take over his whole being. A powerful inner self that he had never felt before crept into his very being and overcame him. He was now the entity of Octagon, while Octagon was only a fragment of himself.

Imbecile instantly knew what he had to do. He walked slowly backwards, still gazing deeply into Octagon’s powerful, hypnotic eyes. He turned and walked out of the tent. No more words needed to be spoken. He slowly glided back to the horses. He saddled Octagon’s horse, mounted and rode off towards his destination. No Monk took any notice of Imbecile, because no one cared what he did. All knew he was only a half-brain and could do no harm to them or anyone else. They knew he was not bold and was oblivious when it came down to accomplishing anything by himself.