The Legend of Frog Page 4

  Frog saw a flash of recognition in the eyes of the princess. She put her fingers to her lips.

  “That’s a bad name,” she whispered. “You’re not supposed to talk about Buttercup.”

  “What? Why not? What are you on about?” asked Frog.

  “Promise to be my pet and my best friend and only to speak to me and not to anyone else,” replied the princess conspiratorially, “and I’ll tell you about Buttercup.”

  “What? I’m not promising you anything! Just tell me!” Frog growled.

  “Shhh!” whispered Princess Rainbow, putting her finger to her lips. “He’s coming!”

  “Your Majesty!” came a cry, as the door to the Chamber of Pets swung open. A breathless Oldasdust strode into the room, ducking as he entered to avoid knocking off his giant hat.

  “Please pardon the intrusion,” Oldasdust continued. He straightened his robes and adopted a stiff, ceremonial stance. “As you know, Your Majesty, the King and Queen have charged me – their most trusted royal wizard – with ensuring your safety while they are away on their conquests. Indeed, I have served the royal family for many a long, long year.” He eyeballed Frog, as he stroked his long moustache. “Your parents were quite clear about the rules before they left – you may not keep anything that speaks.”

  “But—” the princess began.

  “The King and Queen don’t want you filling your head with words – with ideas unbecoming of a princess,” added the wizard.

  “But Greeny doesn’t speak. He’s a frog,” the princess insisted. She turned to Frog and gave him a wink. “He’s a frog and frogs don’t speak, so you must have imagined it.”

  “The curse of a vivid mind!” the wizard tutted. “I am quite certain I heard—”

  “Well, you didn’t. Did he, Greeny?” interrupted the princess.

  Frog narrowed his eyes. “Of course I speak! This pretend princess is filled up with lies!” he cried defiantly.

  “Gah!” cried Oldasdust. “You see, Princess? The gobbin speaks!”

  “I teached him!” said the princess quickly. “He doesn’t really speak – he just copies, like a chatterbird.” She turned to Frog, a look of desperation flashing across her face. “Say something silly like I teached you, Greeny…”

  “My name is Frog! Frooooooog!” he roared.

  “See?” said Princess Rainbow.

  “I’m sorry – I really am,” admitted Oldasdust. “But this only proves why your parents do not allow you to have friends.”

  “Mummy and Daddy aren’t here,” said Princess Rainbow defiantly. “Only they can tell me what I can’t have and if you cut Greeny’s head off before they come back, I’ll tell them that you let a gobbin into the palace.”

  “But, Princess—” began Oldasdust.

  “Now I’m going to have a tea party with my pets,” concluded the princess, “and old people aren’t invited.”

  She nodded to Man-Lor, who obediently ushered Oldasdust out of the room. The wizard protested with a series of “but-but-but” s, but the door was quickly shut in his face.

  “Bad Greeny!” snapped Princess Rainbow. “Now when Mummy and Daddy get back you’re definitely going to get your head chopped off!” She took off her tiara with a sniff and threw it to the floor in front of Frog. “And I still won’t have anyone – not anyone in the whole palace – who I can actually talk to.”

  “I am Man-Lor,” said Man-Lor sadly.

  “Oh, boo hoo! Poor, spoiled Princess Brain-slow has no friends!” scoffed Frog. “I … don’t … care. Now tell me about Buttercup!”

  The princess’s round cheeks went even ruddier than usual. She blew air out of her nose, barely able to contain her rage.

  “Fine,” she grimaced. “Buttercup … was a thief. She stole my golden ball and I was sad. My mummy said if she ever saw Buttercup again, she’d cut her thieving head off with a big sword. Then Mummy said, ‘Don’t cry, things are just things, they’re not important.’ And then she got me another newnicorn.”

  “What are you talking about?” blurted Frog. “Buttercup didn’t steal— The World … was … ending…” Frog trailed off, his mind befuddled with confusion and uncertainty.

  Princess Rainbow eyed him thoughtfully. She considered leaving it there – but Frog had ruined her one chance to have a real, talking friend. She folded her arms and ground her teeth.

  “If Buttercup told you that you’re a prince, then she’s a big, fat liar-head, because you’re not. You’re not anything. You’re just a silly frog that came out of a ball, that came out of a lake. So there.”

  Frog felt the blood rush to his head. Just a silly frog? he thought. Why would Buttercup tell me I was a prince? Why would she lie?

  The curse of a vivid mind. The wizard’s words repeated in Frog’s head. It suddenly felt as if he had imagined his entire life.

  The Distracting Miracle of Death and Rebirth

  Frog had spent three days in a cage as the princess’s pet. She was so annoyed with him for speaking when he shouldn’t that she locked him away in the Chamber of Pets and refused to visit. Twice a day, Man-Lor the barbarian arrived in the chamber and distributed notably unpolished sandwiches to the animals. Frog’s loud protestations fell on deaf ears. “Let me out, Lumps!” he would cry. “I am Man-Lor,” came the reply.

  The first day was spent in a stupor of confusion and rage. Why would Buttercup lie to him about who he was? Even if she was no more than a thief – even if she had stolen the golden egg thinking it was treasure – why tell him he was a prince if he wasn’t? Why let him spend all that time thinking he was important, when he was no better than the pets that now stared at him through vague, stupid eyes?

  Frog wondered if that was why the rarewolf had told him to go back to the island – to spare him the humiliating truth. Because if he was not a prince, it might as well be the End of the World.

  Frog spent the second day staring at his broken stick. Suddenly, he could see how plain and brown and gnarled and stick-like it looked. It was no more Basil Rathbone, his mighty sword, than he was a prince. How could he have been so childish?

  Frog awoke on the third day with a single question gnawing at his brain – if he was not a prince, what was he? A frog, or something else? One thing was certain – the answer did not lie within his cage. For that, he would need to find the place of his “birth” – the lake.

  It was then Frog had an idea.

  “I am Man-Lor!”

  It had been two hours since Frog’s idea. Man-Lor strode into the Chamber of Pets carrying a plateful of sandwiches. He pushed the food through the diamond dogs’ bars.

  “Bark, doggies, bark,” said Man-Lor.

  “Tweet! Tweet!” yapped the bejewelled hounds in the opposite cage.

  Man-Lor gurgled a laugh and turned to Frog’s cage. “Bark, Greeny, bark,” he said. But the still-locked cage was empty except for a pair of catastrophe pants. “Greeny?”

  Man-Lor opened the cage and looked inside.

  “Where are you, Greeny?” He lifted the open cage into the air and examined it from all angles. “Bad, bad, bad. Princess spank Man-Lor.”

  Stupid Lumps, I should have kicked him in the loincloth, thought a naked Frog as he raced through the palace. It had taken all his concentration to keep himself invisible inside the cage long enough to trick the barbarian into opening the door so that he could sneak out … but it was even harder to maintain his camouflage against the ever-changing background of the palace. Fortunately, he hardly saw anyone as he hurried through halls and corridors in search of escape – only a few servants milled around.

  Before long, he had found his way outside into the magnificent, stately gardens at the rear of the palace. The gardens were bursting with life and colour and manicured with breathtaking artistry. Meticulous topiary and majestic sculptures punctuated bright, trimmed lawns and proud postriches strutted around the grounds, hissing and cawing like they owned the place.

  Beyond the garden, Frog saw it: a large open lawn
and a vast, silvery lake.

  “The lake…” he whispered.

  Frog crept down the garden, working hard to maintain his camouflage. After a moment he spotted a large crowd between him and the lake. They were staring at a herd of brightly coloured newnicorns. In the centre he saw the princess, sitting atop the shoulders of the old wizard.

  “Behold the miracle of magic!” began Oldasdust, struggling to keep the princess on his head. “The newnicorns are dying to give birth!”

  Buttercup had often spoken of the royal newnicorns. Each new moon morning the newnicorns died and gave birth to themselves. Frog was struck by how much more unpleasant the process was in real life than in Buttercup’s stories. He felt rather queasy as the agonized cries of the dying newnicorns gave way to mewling wails of newborn foals.

  Still, it was suitably distracting; Frog made his way invisibly through the transfixed crowd – ducking, weaving and crawling under legs until he was in the clear. He emerged to find himself no more than fifty paces from the lake.

  “Greeny gone!” came a cry. “Don’t spank Man-Lor!”

  Frog spun round to see Man-Lor stamping down the garden towards the crowd.

  Then: “AaaAAah! Naked gobbin!” cried a servant. Frog looked down. He had lost concentration – and his camouflage.

  “That’s my pet! Catch him, champ’un!” cried the princess from atop Oldasdust’s hat.

  “Yoiks…” Frog muttered. He turned on his heels and raced towards the lake. He ran so quickly that he occasionally sprang into the air, hopping across the gardens with ever-increasing speed and momentum. He startled a postrich, which snapped at him as he sped past. He had almost reached the shores of the lake when he suddenly panicked. What if he didn’t like what he found? What if there was nothing princely about him at all? What if there was a family of lowly frog-gobbins down there, pining for their lost egg? Would he be happy being a frog-gobbin?

  But Frog was already running too fast to stop – and he was not one to shy away from his destiny.

  He leaped into the air… (“No, Greeny! Man-Lor no swim!”) … And dived headlong into the unknown.

  The Secrets of the Lake

  Frog took a few deep, long breaths of water and looked around. The lake was teeming with fish, the likes of which he had never seen. Spiked eels with unruly, flapping tails … fat, round gulpers with fins like whirring hummingbird wings … schools of whistle fish that had grown bigger, brighter and uglier than he thought possible … even the hookweeds that whipped out from the banks were larger and faster than he’d ever seen. Perhaps there was something magical about this lake.

  Frog swam deeper, past the hordes of fish and foliage. Soon the waters of the lake grew dark and the fish disappeared but for a scant few glowing gulpers. Before long the gulpers vanished too and the darkness became impenetrable. Frog continued to swim, down and down, feeling the pressure of the water grip him.

  Turn back, he thought. But he kicked his legs as hard as he could, diving deeper into the inky depths.

  Then he spotted it.

  A green light, pulsing slowly in the distance. Then another, and another.

  The deeper he swam, the more lights he saw. They were so bright that Frog could soon see quite clearly. He had at last reached the lake bed – it was dark and smooth, with lights covering it in every direction. Frog reached out to touch it. It was cold and metallic, like the bars of his cage. To his surprise, the lake bed shifted and opened at his touch, leaving a small, perfectly spherical hole in the ground.

  Green light poured forth. It felt like an invitation.

  Frog swam inside.

  He found himself in a long, cylindrical corridor, illuminated green and made from the same dark, oily metal as the lake bed. The corridor soon gave way to a wide chamber, with what looked like mirrors on every wall. Frog swam through chamber after chamber, corridor after corridor. After a while he noticed something new – the faint glow of red light among the green. He followed the glow into a large, oval chamber and found the source – a bright orb of intense, red light, shining like a tiny star in the centre of the room.

  Like a buttermoth to a flame Frog floated towards it, his hand outstretched – and brushed it with the tips of his fingers.

  What the … what? thought Frog, pulling his hand away. The moment he touched the light it was as if a hundred bumblefleas started buzzing in his brain … as if his head wasn’t big enough to contain them.

  He went back for more – poking a finger into the light.

  He pulled away again. What is… Did I understand that?

  This time Frog grabbed the ball of red light with both hands.

  All at once, Frog felt as if a door in his brain was being prised open and a torrent of images rushed into his mind – a tidal wave, a great flood of blackness – as if the whole world had been poured into his head. He saw swirls of churning colour rush towards him … and stars, hundreds of stars, bright and hot and close enough to touch. He closed his eyes to block it out, but there was no way of stopping it. He tried to picture the island … Buttercup … lying on his back on the shores of the Inbetween, counting clouds … but those memories had been pushed aside. All he could see in his mind’s eye was a large, dark green orb, in the centre of pitch blackness. The orb turned slowly as it moved closer and closer. Soon, Frog could see it contained seas, islands, great masses of land and water… It was a whole world. He watched it slowly spinning in the starry sky.

  said a voice in his head.

  Then…

  A second later, Frog heard a rumble as loud as thunder – and everything went from green to red.

  The Bipods

  Half the palace (and a herd of newnicorn foals) was gathered on the edge of the lake when Frog burst out of the water and crashed on to the grass. He lay there, panting, as Princess Rainbow stepped out of the crowd.

  “Bad Greeny … now you’ll prob’ly have your head cut off and then you’ll be sorry.” She crossed her arms with a disgruntled tut. “Did you bring me back any treasure?”

  “Something … down there…” Frog gasped, “…coming … here!”

  The princess eyed him suspiciously. “No treasure at all?” she huffed. “Not even one golden ball?”

  Frog didn’t answer. He stared at the lake as it suddenly glowed red and began to boil. Within moments, a hundred helpless whistle fish rose to the surface of the lake, their dying wheets filling the air.

  “My fishies!” cried Princess Rainbow, her hands on her hips as she watched the lake bubble and churn. “What happened to my fishies?”

  The answer came in a black shape emerging from the bubbling water. It was curved and smooth, like the clamshells on the shores of the island, but vast – as big as a house and made from the same oily, black metal that Frog had found at the bottom of the lake. With a grating whirr, the shape continued to rise until it was clear of the water, and Frog saw it was supported by two long, writhing metallic tendrils. It rose further, until it was taller than the tallest tree in the garden.

  “Is that my treasure? It doesn’t look like treasure,” said Princess Rainbow.

  Two more clamshell shapes rose slowly out of the lake behind the first, water, hookweeds and dead fish sloughing off them.

  “I don’t think it’s treasure,” murmured Frog. He stared up at the foremost clamshell and saw a red light flash across its surface. A moment later came the sound of hot steam escaping from a boiling pot … and it began to open.

  “Is the treasure inside?” squeaked the princess excitedly.

  “Would you shut up about treasure?” Frog snapped. He peered up as light and smoke poured out of the giant clamshell. Then a long, oily tongue snaked out from inside and curved towards the shore. As it finally touched the ground, Frog realized it was not a tongue, but a narrow flight of stairs.

  “Gah! What dark sorcery is this?” hissed the wizard Oldasdust.

  From the fog a giant figure emerged. It walked slowly down the steps, and Frog noticed how tall it
was – even taller than the hulking Man-Lor. The giant was armoured from head to toe, but this wasn’t some cumbersome combination of iron and chainmail – this armour comprised slick, interlocking plates, as smooth as polished stone. On its right leg was a holster with a large, red handle curving out and upon its head, a shiny black helmet covering its entire face.

  “Yoiks…” Frog muttered, as the figure stopped directly in front of him. It reached a three-fingered hand to its face and prised the helmet from its head.

  Frog felt his jaw fall open as the someone-or-something blinked in the light of morning. Its yellow eyes were large and oval, its head wide and hairless. And its skin … its skin was green. This giant looked more like him than any creature he had seen since his arrival in the Not-So-Ended World – even more than Mr Hoppy the frog.

  “I am General Kurg,” it said in a thunderous growl – then knelt before Frog. “The Army of a Thousand Sons awaits your order, Prince…”

  General Kurg looked up expectantly.

  “… Frog?” finished Frog, suddenly doubtful.

  “Frog! Interesting choice,” said the general. “Welcome to your destiny – Royal Majesty, Lord of all Kingdoms, Rightful Ruler of the World … Prince Frog.”

  Frog blinked twice. “What the … what?”

  The Prince’s Fate

  “Did you say, Prince … Frog?” asked Frog, as the green-skinned giant calling himself General Kurg rose to his feet.

  “Why were you living in my lake? It’s not allowed,” said Princess Rainbow, staring into the giant’s yellow eyes. “Mummy says squatters should have their heads chopped off. Do you have any treasure?”

  “Have a care, Your Majesty,” whispered the wizard, Oldasdust. “My omen hat hasn’t been this tight since I lost my house in a game of cards – I fear there is some nasty, dark magic afoot.”