Thomas Kindercook and the Pink Pyjamas

  A wizened hand grasped the handle of a large thick glass bowl with a red liquid substance in it. A face, scarred from battle, and time, gazed into the bowl with a hungry expression on it. “Something has changed.” rasped the gravelly old voice more to himself than to his pet wolf. “A rift.” The old hand hovered over the bowl of red liquid. The Bowl of Seeing was an item that had been enchanted in the same era as the castle was erected. It had taken the old man many years to muddle out the nature of the bowl's enchantment, but once he had, the bowl had proved to be an invaluable tool. Whenever an event was set in motion that would change the world significantly, the bowl would tune itself into it, allowing the owner to witness history being made. Or in an old enchanter's case... influence it. Ripples appeared on the surface. An image started to solidify as the ripples worked their way to the edges. The old man's gaze was that of a greedy jackal just before it devoured its helpless prey. Victor. His name was Victor, the once powerful ruler of this land. That was before the time of Edric Greenshot. Victor snarled and spat off to the side, not entirely missing his pet wolf. Edric Greenshot self-imposed ruler of Westminster.

  The image solidified reluctantly. First two bright lights were visible, then a cottage came into view. The cottage was a typical dwelling done in Draco style. The old wizard stood rapt over the bowl. That's when a girl wearing pink caught his eye. The girl sat on the bed as a boy seemed to throw a bowl of hot liquid on her. Victor enjoyed this little window into others lives, he revelled in the forbidden knowledge he garnered from it.

  Victor peered closely at the individual in the pink, and now brown stained clothes. His eyes took longer to adjust these days, he silently cursed the effects of ageing. There was something strange about this girl. It wasn't just that humans and Draconians weren't usually seen keeping company together. That in itself was worth the investigation, it was something else. The clothing clearly was something that she had picked up from the Dragon. No human would normally be caught dead in such a brightly coloured garment... not even a girl.

  Victor wheeled on his heel, his richly embroidered cloak flapping as he whirled around. “Shadow!” Victors' old eyes trolled the dark corners of the room for signs of movement. The Shadow, which was difficult to see during the day, was nearly impossible to see at night, unless it was trying to draw attention.

  He was about to shout again when he saw a slight fluctuation in the darkness nearest one of his lamps. “Ah, there you are.”

  The Shadow was a dangerous creature. They were expert hunters who lived off the life essence of others. It would blend itself into the natural shadows, become one with the darkness itself. When the prey came in close enough, the Shadow would sweep over, consuming it. By the time the creature figured out what was going on, it was already too late and the Shadow would devour it whole. The Shadow had many different abilities and was deadly in hundreds of different ways. Very few creatures had lived through the experience. Those that had, were never the same.

  Careful to keep the Shadow in his line of sight, Victor made his way back to the bowl. “I need you to gather something for me.” Victor motioned to the bowl.

  The Shadow edged out of the darkness. It was hard to look at it in the light. It was like a moving pocket of black blur. It,of course, didn't enjoy entering the light. Even low light caused it severe discomfort, but it had no choice. Its master was beckoning. The Shadow edged up close enough to peer into the bowl. “I need you to gather this young girl for me.” You had to be very literal with the Shadow. Incomplete instructions given could end in disastrous results. It wouldn't do for his prize to be damaged before he figured out the significance of it.

  “I expect that you will not harm this girl. I need you to bring her here, UNHARMED.” Victor emphasized that last word. It wasn't in the nature of a Shadow NOT to harm something it had caught. It was a bit of a gamble to ask this of it, but the Shadow was his best hunter, and this was important. He was sure of it.

  The Shadow was confused. No harm. It understood this, but this was not something that the master had ever asked for before. In the past, the master would ask the Shadow to devour this ruler, destroy that general. It was always used as a weapon. Was the Shadow being punished for something? Somehow it felt like it was being demoted. There was no mistaking the tone of the master though. There was to be no hurting this girl. Just bring it to the master. It understood.

  Victor watched as the Shadow hovered in indecision for a few minutes, then finally swept out of the room. He hoped that he had made the right decision in sending him. There was something large being set in motion, something that had the potential to change history. The bowl never activated for anything less, and it would stay active until whatever event had brought it to life, was completed. Victor wanted to manipulate whatever was about to happen, in his favour. His return to power might be within his grasp... if he could figure out the significance of the girl in time.

  The old wizard settled himself back onto the ancient throne. Except for the raging storm outside, the room grew quiet. With no one to talk to, Victor sat alone in darkness on an uncomfortable throne of a long forgotten ruler, waiting for the return of the Shadow, with the future of his world.

  CHAPTER 6

  SILENT MISTS

  Thomas was awakened by a loud shrieking dragon in human form, screaming at the top of its lungs, “Get OUT!” Thomas hadn't even managed to open his dreary eyelids when something extremely heavy, shaggy and wet landed on top of him and proceeded to drool all over him. This was followed up by rubbing the drool around his face with an extremely oversized fleshy object that was undoubtedly this creature's tongue. Thomas gasped a breath here and there as the tongue occasionally lifted itself from his face giving him a few short seconds to get another breath of putrid air before the creatures tongue was once again landing.

  “I Said GET OUT! Grimace!... Gangle! OOOOUUUUTTTT” Reluctantly the slobbering mass of fur jumped down from the bed, rumbled its way out the door, and out of the house.

  “I am so sorry. They usually come in for breakfast, but I had temporarily forgotten that I had company, and well... you are in their bed.”

  Thomas realized now why the bed had been so itchy, and had a distinct grungy smell. The odour reminded him of wet dog mixed with cow dung. “It's alright.” Thomas said as he tried to mop some of the slobber off his face with his shirt sleeve.

  “Well, I guess it's better that you are up now anyway. We should get going. By your stride, it should take us most of the day to get there.”

  Thomas was up now and almost awake. The consistency of the drool in his hair was enough to keep it out of his face. He would not be needing any hair gel today. He wondered briefly, if they could market this drool as a hair product. Girls put all sorts of weird things on their skin and in their hair.

  “What are the Alkamire Dragons like Gatsby?”

  “Hmm?” Gatsby was trying to clean the floor with a mop-like object. Evidently getting the animals slobber to come off the floor was no easier than getting it out of Thomas' hair. “Oh they are alright on the whole. They spend most of their time on the fringes of the human world.”

  Gatsby was rubbing at a particularly stubborn spot on the floor. “I have friends there.” Gatsby's expression grew dark, “Well, I THINK I still have friends there.”

  Thomas waited for Gatsby to explain , but Gatsby merely continued, “They are researchers, artists, they live their life day to day and are generally easy to get along with.”

  Gatsby finally managed to get the spot off the floor, taking a sliver of wood along with it.

  “Drat!”

  It seemed that Gatsby wasn't going to say much more. He was completely engrossed in mourning the loss of his hardwood floor.

  Thomas and Gatsby finished off a quick breakfast, cleaned up and prepared for the day's voyage. Gatsby had quite a store of snacks and vegetables to take along with them. Thomas would never have guessed dragons to be into vegetable gardening. If he ever managed
to get back home, he would write a book about the top ten things you don't know about dragons. Vegetable gardening would definitely be in there somewhere. Every book that Thomas had ever read involved dragons chomping on unlucky knights or luscious maidens, not on carrots and broccoli. He had to admit he preferred this dragon to the ones he had read about. It was a really beautiful day. Despite being far away from home, this new world resembled his own in many ways, although the woods and plant-life seemed to thrive a lot more here than they did in his own world. The vegetation had a life of its own. Thick stems, broad leafs, and roots that could trip an elephant. The plants here were definitely healthy. In the city back home, thought Thomas, every plant looked like it was struggling to survive against the odds.

  Gatsby was wearing the oddest looking jacket and walking with a stick. Gatsby’s' jacket was an iridescent red. Every time Gatsby turned into the sun, Thomas would have to avert his eyes. A couple of times, Thomas didn't turn his head fast enough and was caught stumbling around for an hour or two with big bright green spots in the centre of his vision. The two large mounds of fur were following beside Gatsby, seemingly lost in the journey. Typical of dog-like creatures, they were rushing to this and that side of the road, jumping at whatever invisible insect happened by at the moment.

  All in all, the first half of the day was largely uneventful. Gatsby continued on with a brief history of the land. He seemed quite happy when talking about the history of the dragons, the plants and the land, but didn't really say much about the history of Darkfol and how it became Westminster. When Thomas asked about it, Gatsby merely shrugged and said that the previous ruler was a vicious old wizard who exploited all races of creatures in the realm. The newest establishment seemed to have struck a more harmonious chord with everyone in the land. He apologized for not knowing more, but as he had explained several times, he simply didn't pay attention to human politics.

  Travelling through this new and foreign land had been so fascinating that Thomas hadn't noticed anything the matter immediately. It wasn't until just after midday when he started to pick up on a negative feeling in the air.

  “Gatsby?”

  Gatsby had been mostly quiet for the last hour or so. He seemed engrossed in a song that he had been humming all day.

  Gatsby paused, “Mmmmm?”

  Articulating what Thomas felt wasn't going to be easy. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the more that he focused on the feeling, the more he felt something ominous boring down on him. Something dark, just out of the range of his vision.

  “Something isn't right.”

  Gatsby looked at Thomas perplexed, “Was my song bothering you? Because if it was, I do know some rather smashing marching songs. Or a ballad, though that might be a little uncomfortable given the current company.”

  “No, that's not it.” Thomas looked around the wilderness, as if he could find an explanation hidden in the foliage. They were on a open plain of tall grass on a rolling hillside. A path, cut from the regular travel of people and creatures, meandered through the middle. Below the rolling fields, in the valley to the left, was a river dividing the plains before the hills rose again on the other side. In front of them, several kilometres off, was the forest. Somehow the forest seemed foreboding. Like it was waiting for them. Thomas couldn't put his finger on what was the matter until Grimace and Gangle stopped nosing through the grass for a moment and perked up to listen to something in the distance. That's when it hit Thomas. He couldn't hear whatever it was that Grimace and Gangle were listening to. In fact, he couldn't hear anything at all. All the sounds of the wilderness, the general ambiance that usually accompanies the countryside had slowly died away. Now that Thomas thought about it, he couldn't recall the last time he had heard crickets, or the sound of birds off in the distance. It was dead quiet.

  Now that Gatsby had stopped humming he seemed to have picked up on this as well. A momentary flash of worry washed over his face, but was quickly replaced with a smile. “The wilderness is resting it seems. It is getting later, we should get moving a little faster.”

  Gatsby was a Dragon. If Gatsby was worried about whatever was causing this unnatural void in nature, then there was cause to be worried.

  Gatsby set off at a heightened pace. Thomas had to push hard to keep up. They were definitely moving with haste now. The fields gave way to brush, the brush gave way to forest and eventually they were in a full grown wood. The forest was just as quiet as the fields were. As if sensing the darkened mood of the travellers making their way into the forest, the weather started to turn on them as well. A cold mist had started to set in around them. Gatsby was no longer trying to keep his reassuring smile. Instead, a determined look had replaced the normally placid features. Even Grimace and Gamble were starting to look a little haggard, trying to keep close to Gatsby. They had travelled about an hour into the woods without incident when suddenly Grimace and Gamble started to growl.

  Gatsby came to a dead halt. The only noise was the sound of the two dog-like creatures growling. The mist had grown heavier now. It was getting more difficult to see where they were heading. Luckily Gatsby seemed to know where they were going. If Thomas had had to rely solely on the path they had been following, he would have been lost long ago.

  All of a sudden Gamble's hackles rose and he let loose a piercing yowl. The giant ball of fur almost knocked Thomas off his feet as it took off through the woods and disappeared into the mist. Grimace was growling and nearly took off after his brother but Gatsby held him close. “Thomas. Follow close, and keep watch carefully for anything moving in the Shadows.”

  Gatsby was following the barking noises of Gamble. It wasn't long before they caught up with him. They broke through the thick of the mist and entered a small clearing in the middle of the woods, where a makeshift camp appeared to have been set up. Gamble was standing in the centre of it sniffing the ground around a large fire pit. A piercing icy cold jolt shocked the pit of Thomas' stomach. There was a fire still going in the centre of this camp. There were tents, backpacks, pots, pans, everything you would expect to find at a camp was there, except for the people who set it up.

  In the distance there was a rumbling. A storm was starting to gather again. With the mist so heavy in the air, and the ancient trees reaching for the sky, Thomas couldn't make out if there were clouds. But he was almost sure that it had gotten darker.

  “Where did everyone go, Gatsby?” Thomas tried to keep calm. Gatsby seemed to be on edge. He wasn't saying very much as he looked around the camp.

  Gatsby seemed to be talking more to himself than to anyone else.

  “No signs of a struggle. It looks like they were preparing for dinner.”

  Gatsby inspected the bed rolls placed around the campfire. “It looks like they were setting up for the night.”

  Suddenly Gatsby spun around and stared at Thomas. Thomas was so startled he almost fell backward over a root.

  “We must move quickly.” Gatsby cursed, “Dredge it! There isn't enough room for me to take off. We are going to have to continue on foot.”

  Gatsby wore a look of anxiety that set the hairs on the back of Thomas' neck on edge.

  “What is it?” Thomas had a sudden urge to keep close to Grimace and Gamble despite their awful odour.

  Gatsby’s' gaze swept the forest. Between the thick mist and darkness, it was getting hard to see anything. Finally, reluctantly he murmured, “I'm not sure.” Gatsby grabbed Thomas' hand and started to drag him away from the camp. The two dog-like creatures had grown quiet and seemed to be sticking close to the group as they started to run silently through the forest. It seemed to get darker, and quieter the further that Thomas and Gatsby ran. Thomas couldn't help but think of the mysterious darkness behind the new attic door back home, and how it seemed to suck the light out of everything around it. The gloom that had set upon them had the same unnatural feel to it, as if it were trying to devour them. All they could hear was the sound of their laboured breathing and
feet on the underbrush. For the better part of half an hour, Thomas, Gatsby, Grimace and Gangle pressed hard through the heavy mists and dense foliage. Thomas was, in no way, used to this level of sustained exertion. A nasty wind was picking up, and the mist had given way to hail.

  “We're almost there!” Gatsby was flat out running now.

  Thomas was having trouble keeping up. Just when he thought his chest was going to explode and his lungs catch on fire, they broke out of the forest onto an open plain. Before them loomed an absolutely gigantic wall, crafted entirely out of what looked to be solid trees. He would have stopped right there, on the spot, to gape, but Gatsby had hold of his hand and yanked him onward toward a towering gate. They arrived, collapsing into a massive pile of human, pseudo human and dog limbs.

  “Open the gate!” cried Gatsby.

  A small slat in the gate slid open and a pair of eyes stared out at them. “Ah Gatsby!” came a voice from behind the slat. “It's been a long...”

  “GET THE GATE OPEN!” Gatsby cut the voice off as he pulled Thomas to his feet. He was taking short, but strong, wheezing breaths. Gatsby appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating.

  Clearly startled, the eyes disappeared and the gate began to rumble open. Gatsby, Thomas and the dog-like things stumbled through. No sooner were they past the gate than it was slamming shut behind them. The gate keeper recognized trouble when he saw it, or, in this case, when he got screamed at.

  When Thomas realized that they weren't going to run anymore he collapsed at the side of the road. Gatsby joined him there and the two of them just sat for a few minutes in the relative silence of gasping, wheezing and slobbering.