Free Goldest and the Kingdom of Thorns by Joanne Durda Page B

be.
    In the meantime, as the night became deeper and deeper, the Monks were tending to large black cauldrons of nefarious, boiling concoctions set outside their thorn fields. Many fires were built and already ablaze. Warmth filled the fields from these many fires – the cool air being sent away. The Monks had graced themselves in their ceremonial, woolen white-hooded robes with their red aprons wrapped around themselves, which completed their full costume look. White sandals made from the bark of birch trees were worn instead of their usual, darker sandals made from the bark of their thorn trees. Censers filled with burning frankincense were lit to remove the unwanted influences of the menacing, dark shadows which filled the night air and brought on the nightmares which crept into the souls of the sleepers. The full moon gave the scene an eerie, frightening atmosphere.
    Ebrix and Meek walked up to Theo and bowed in respect to him. “All ingredients have been simmered and are ready to bath in,” Ebrix informed Theo. He looked at Meek for confirmation. “The pots are ready, Brother,” Meek confirmed.
    Theo stood out before the fields of thorns and raised his arms and voice for all to hear. The ceremonial Monks in their garb looked like pieces that belonged on a chessboard.
    “It is time, our warriors, for you to uproot yourselves and step into the steaming baths of vitalism, to make strong your form and give you the breath of life to fight for our kingdom! You have been planted, grown and cared for by the most deadliest, unearthly concoctions pounded out by us Brothers, and then boiled by us to feed to your roots,” Theo bellowed out. Theo turned and looked at a solemn Octagon for a few seconds. Then he looked at the Olympian Moon’s position within the darkened sky, which was filled with smoke from the burning frankincense – burned against the unwanted dark shadows to prevent them wreaking havoc on their new growth of army.
    Theo spoke to the Olympian Moon. “Hear my words, Moon. Shine your moonbeams down amongst our thorns. Make them feel welcomed with your solace of light in their new life. Moon, we need wind to carry this mystical green soil, blended with our cryptic black magic, concocted from the earth, to our thorns. Be kind to our thorns and sprinkle your moondust upon our thorns for a higher, more advanced stage of development and success in their new life.”
    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, withstiffness in them. Imbecile’s fear of them made him hide