The Three Thorns (16 page)

“Stay back. Stay back, I say.” He coughed, trying to climb out of the small grave-like ditch.

The cloaked assassin stomped impatiently over to him and picked the old man off of his feet.

“Don’t eat me!” Mr. Jennings yelled, his legs shaking in thin air, trying to kick with what little energy they had left in them. “Who are you? What are you?”

“We want the Children of Aba-
sssin
,” the assassin hissed like a serpent.

“Oh, dear heavens, your breath is worse than mine,” Mr. Jennings said. “I didn’t think that was possible,” he added quite boldly, proud of his rotted tonsils.

“Silence!” ordered his capturer, squeezing him by the neck. “Bring us to The Three That Are One,” the cloaked beast said while Mr. Jennings gasped for air.

“Three That Are One? I do not teach mathematics, you overgrown bean can,” Mr. Jennings wheezed, his ego getting in the way of his common sense.

“Do you know the Children of Aba-
sssin
, petty human?” the armored assassin asked.

“I-I…I can’t tell you if you won’t release me…bean can,” Mr. Jennings muttered, forcing his insult out loud once more.

The cloaked assassin promptly tossed the old man into the clutches of its partner, like a rag doll. This time, Mr. Jennings was held upside down.

“Tell me now or I will drop you on your head,” growled the armored assassin as he swung Mr. Jennings back and forth.

“Ah…okay…okay. I don’t know them personally. They’re my pupils. Please, don’t kill me. I can help you find them,” he begged.

The armored assassin looked into Mr. Jennings’ hard, worn face.

“The Three That Are One…they are students of yours, treacherous human?” it growled again. “You teach the enemy!”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Mr. Jennings said.

“Crafts against His Majesty!” snapped the cloaked assassin.

“I’m on your side. I hate the little brats!” Mr. Jennings smiled unconvincingly.

“Liar,” the armored beast whispered eerily to his captive. “You teach the Children of Aba-
sssin
to fight against our King.”

“No. I wasn’t trying to help them…honest. I agree with you charming gentlemen…I mean, gentle-bean cans,” Mr. Jennings said.

Both beasts began to cackle at the pathetic captive pleading for his life.

“You don’t look as if you would be much use out on the battlefield, human,” the cloaked assassin said, laughing.

The armored assassin gave Mr. Jennings a stern look seconds before flinging him back to his original capturer. Held by the scruff of his jacket, the humiliated principal looked like an entangled puppet.

“Now this is just getting ridiculous,” Mr. Jennings grunted.

“The children have many powers, foolish human,” said the cloaked assassin.

“Powers? My boys? Are you sure about that?” Mr. Jennings giggled.

“Do not mock us, human worm!” the armored assassin warned, pointing its finger at him.

“Well, I could hang around here all day with you chaps, or we could stop babbling nonsense and go find the little scrappers,” Mr. Jennings suggested tensely.

At this point the beasts started to talk amongst themselves in a language that Mr. Jennings could not comprehend.

“He’s a wasteful human, Thestor, diseased and dying. Leave him for the carnivores of these lands. He’s of no use to the Master,” said the cloaked assassin, glancing back and forth between Mr. Jennings and its counterpart.

Thestor silently shook his head in disagreement.

“His soul has escaped him, and his heart is empty. I rather like this uncaring, devious excuse for human fodder. If nothing else, he can wash the warts off my back and help with the other slaves in the dungeons, if he survives the transition. He’ll be my wart scrubber.”

Both beastly assassins looked at the pathetic man and began to laugh at him when the cloaked assassin handed Mr. Jennings over to its counterpart.

“Very well, my ugly pet; I’m sure we can make some use of you…if the Master lets you live,” Thestor sniggered.

Unknowingly, Mr. Jennings laughed together with his new villainous brethren in relief that his life had been spared.

In one movement, Thestor abruptly threw Mr. Jennings onto his back, preparing him for their lengthy flight into the unknown. “Make yourself comfortable up there, peasant, you might have to get used to it, if you’re very lucky.” Both assassins roared with laughter.

“Where are we going?” Mr. Jennings asked in sheer fright, gripping the steel armor on the assassin’s back.

Thestor gave a warning look over his shoulder. “Not another word from you, slug,” he growled. He took off from the ground at great speed. Mr. Jennings screamed like a little girl (revealing his fear of heights), digging his fingernails into the rusted grip points in the assassin’s armor.

The darkened clouds opened their mouths, showing razor-elongated teeth. A bright blinding light shone out from the gateway, increasing the coldness upon their faces. Mr. Jennings’s stomach turned as sulphuric smells flew out at him, attacking his nostrils and clouding his senses. His weak heart slowed to a mere crawl when he slipped into unconsciousness. Luckily for Mr. Jennings, the freezing temperatures had covered the black steel armor in a thick layer of sticky frost that kept his body attached to the flying assassin.

Seconds after his mind faded out of consciousness, the mouth of the vortex opened up, revealing the blinding cold light. Unbeknownst to him, Mr. Jennings was now a prisoner, belonging to the assassin he rode on.

After they entered through the vortex, it evaporated, leaving behind a great patch of gloomy colors in the skyline over Warwickshire. The new brethren of villains had crossed their gateway in pursuit of the three human children who had arrived on the other side of their own gateways…each awaiting his fate.

The transition for Tommy hadn’t been anywhere near as hellish as what Jennings encountered. It was comfortably quick, and before he knew it, he stepped out of the same rugged oak tree doorway the very way he had entered it. The only difference was he was now covered in soil and plant roots from head to toe, which clung to his clothes even when he tried to brush them off.

The roots were alive and made Tommy squeamish, as he plucked each one off him. The large gateway door closed over, changing into solid oak again. Once his vision cleared, Tommy gazed in wonder at the most beautiful skies one could ever have dreamed of. Clear purple heavens lit up a beautiful white rock that lay ahead of him.

The thought of discovering this new world excited him. Trees surrounded him, but these were not like the withered and mossy trees that bordered Jacob O’Malley’s farmland. These trees appeared to ignite their surroundings like candlelight, reflecting the golden brown leaves that covered their roots. Spectacular colors enhanced the main pathway that lay behind the white rock. Strong, pleasant smells of rosemary and incense rose around him and cleared the remaining residue of stench the horrid assassins had left.

Tommy was exhilarated. The smells grew stronger with every breath he took. His body began adjusting to the atmosphere, when he fell onto his hands and knees, vomiting what little he had eaten earlier in the old world.

“Your body is just adapting to the new air,” a tiny high-pitched voice called out.

Tommy slowly got to his feet when he heard the strange voice.

“Who’s there?” he asked. There was a short silence, and Tommy found himself wondering what had happened to the rest of the group. Feeling isolated in a strange place gripped him with an unsettling feeling.

Rustling came from the gorgeous woodlands to the right of him along with the sounds of small feet puttering close by.

“Show yourself,” he demanded.

The creature seemed to defy gravity the moment it appeared on top of the white rock, leaping gracefully. “Don’t be alarmed, we are safe for now,” it said, scouting around for any sign of unwanted trouble.

It took a little while for Tommy to recognize his friend. “
Peter?
” Tommy gasped.

Peter’s ears stretched into a straight point like the east and west points of a compass, revealing white fluffy hair all over them with the exception of a black lined streak. His hair was whiter than ever, reflecting the forest lights in the background. Tommy noticed that even Peter’s attire was different. Sticks, leaves and branches, all finely stripped, made up his clothes, with ripped leggings and brown boots. But the most peculiar characteristic about Peter was in his face. The face now appeared too feminine to belong to a boy.

“What happened to your ears?” Tommy asked.

The creature kicked its feet high into the air and laughed as it rolled upon its back.

“What are you?” Tommy asked, with a light hesitance.

“I’m a nymph. My real name is Ariel,” came her soft reply. “I was sent to the old world disguised as one of you, to guide you back.”

“What is this all about?” he asked.

“It is not for my lips to tell, little Master…we don’t know who could be listening,” she whispered. “But you will know everything soon.”

“Shouldn’t we go back through the tree?” Tommy suggested, pointing at the great oak, only to discover that it had shrunk and changed to a shrub.

“Why would we want to do that?” She laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll soon get used to things here,” she said, leading the way onto the colorful leafy road. “We must get moving, I’m taking you to the Stained Castle. All will be revealed to you then.”

She knelt to the ground and rummaged through several leaves to pull out a living vegetable from its root.

“Where are we?” Tommy asked.

“We’re in the new world,” she announced, showing Tommy lands as far as he could see from the top of the white rock. “This is Abasin.”

“It’s so big,” Tommy gasped.

“You’ve no idea,” Ariel replied excitably. “Take this, it will build up your strength,” she added, handing Tommy the vegetable plant creature. Its legs moved, but the body of the vegetable seemed unresponsive.

“Yuck! What is this?” Tommy asked in disgust, holding one of the squirming tentacles up by the tips of his fingers.

The nymph sighed. “It’s food. You have to eat,” she ordered, leading the way forward.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Just eat, Thomas. The sooner you eat, the sooner you will feel better, and the sooner we can get moving,” she called back, impatiently.

Tommy closed his eyes tight and braced himself to take his first bite of the vegetable. The tentacles flopped lifelessly to one side. It had a sweet texture mixed with an incredible savoury taste that took the nausea away from him almost instantly.

“What about Benjamin and Sebastian?” he asked, sounding a little more alert.

“We had to separate you. It’s safer that way,” came her quick reply.

“But we all went through the same way,” Tommy insisted, sounding doubtful. The nymph took another look at the messy boy who had food stains on his chin.

“Like I said, you’ll get used to how things work here,” she tittered. “Do not fear. There will be other protectors at their gateways to guide them to the Stained Castle.”

“What’s the Stained Castle?”

“A safe fortress. It once belonged to a great king, long before these dark ages,” she explained.

Tommy couldn’t help but pose more questions to the nymph, his mind growing ever more interested in the fascinating new world of Abasin. But out of the numerous questions he had buzzing around his head, Tommy Joel knew which one concerned him most.

“How far is it to this castle then?”

***

Sebastian’s hands frantically clawed the muddy earth in search of his large glasses.

He’d managed to brush off the soil and squirming shrubs before the new air made him throw up and lose his glasses in the process.

“Where are you?” he cried aloud in frustration until a blurry object appeared, holding his glasses with one finger. Grabbing them, Sebastian quickly fixed the legs of his glasses around his ears.

Once his frames were fixed upon his face, Sebastian could see the grubby fat creature he had so curtly snatched his glasses from.

“That was so rude,” came the sharp greeting.

Unwilling to converse with the creature, Sebastian turned around and speedily walked toward the gateway in search of Peter, keeping a close watch over his shoulder. Failing to notice the doorway had already closed, he bounced off the solid oak tree and landed backwards in the sludge. As he hit the surface, his glasses flew off his face and landed back into the hands of the fat creature.

“Well, this is going to be interesting,” the creature said, sighing. “I can see you’re a right handful.”

“Give them back!” Sebastian shouted, rubbing wet splatter marks of mud from his eyes as he swiped for his glasses.

“Give what back?” the creature teased, before it eventually handed the boy his eyewear.

“What in the world?” Sebastian gasped. His jaw hung open as he studied the offbeat figure dressed in dungarees and gray cotton overalls. Its nose was pointy and it had overgrown bumblebee wings sprouting from its back that glistened in the light. A mop of thick brown hair reached down to its eyebrows to accompany its circular chubby face. The creature was fat, but appeared capable and strong.

“Are you sniggering at me, human?” it asked.

“I do not snigger, I’m a respectable Englishman,” Sebastian replied, trying not to smirk.

“Englishman? What is that? I’ve never heard of one of those before.”

“By golly. Englishmen are polite, strong, decent folk, unlike creatures such as…whatever
you
are,” Sebastian rambled, showing off his self-educated manner.

“I…my filthy whatever human…am a noble knighted whatever pixie,” scolded the creature, speaking with a noticeable but funny lisp.

“Knighted, huh? I see. Shall I call you Sir Pixie then?” Sebastian teased.

“My name is Cecil Baskin,” he growled back, but his timid voice and funny lisp spoiled his threatening demeanour. “You have a name, I presume.”