Frog the Barbarian Page 4

  “I’m still trying to work out what they all do, truth be told,” said the bragon. He crushed the stone over his wing and it dissolved into a bright sprinkling dust. The wound immediately began to heal. The bragon smiled and added, “See? Take one – you might need it with the enemies you made today…”

  “Pfff – those grotty head-choppers don’t scare me,” huffed Frog. He picked out a stone with two circles – one large, and one small – carved upon it, and slipped it into his pocket. Then he pointed to the door in the middle of the room. “What’s that for?”

  “Who knows?” replied the bragon, pressing his spectacles on to his nose. “The only thing the wizard made me promise was that I never open that door.”

  “But it doesn’t even go anywhere,” Frog muttered, as he walked around it. The door was chained shut. On it were written the words:

  ENTER NOT

  UPON PAIN OF A

  WIZARD’S WITHERING STARE!

  “Just more wizard weirdness,” chuckled the bragon. “Still, I didn’t mind honouring his request – I felt bad taking this place off his hands, since I’m a such terrible card player by bragon standards…”

  “Wait…” began Frog. “That actually sounded like … like whatever the opposite of boasting is.”

  “Me boast?” replied the bragon. “What about you? All that ‘I’m so mighty!’ and ‘I was about to bake the doughnut of defeat’ and ‘You’ll get all the pie!’ nonsense? At least I put my hot air to good use…”

  “Yeah, but all that’s true! I’m— Wait, ‘hot air’?” repeated Frog.

  “The bragon’s gift,” replied the bragon. “The more I boast, the more hot air I have to carry me into the clouds, by gosh! Without hot air a bragon can only glide … with it he can fly.”

  Frog slapped his forehead.

  “So, that’s what all that ‘I’m the Duke’ bumdrops was about?”

  “It’s all flimflam for flight’s sake! My real name is Nigel,” said the bragon. He made his way over to a small table and picked up a blue teapot in his claws. “Bragons live to fly… Once you have soared through the air, you realize that life on the ground is a load of old smell. But it’s a lonely life. We bragons got so sick of listening to each other toot our own trumpets that we chose to live at different corners of Kingdomland. I haven’t seen the others in years, truth be told…”

  “So, why don’t you just do your boasting in private?” Frog asked.

  The bragon poured blue tea into two blue china cups and let out a long sigh. “Bragons are cursed with cruel magic. The hot air only fills us if someone is around to hear our boasts.” He handed a cup of tea to Frog, who followed him over to a window. They stuck out their heads and looked down. “That’s why I love it up here. Before I won this house, mine was a dank existence in the caves beneath the mountains. It was so hard to know where to wait for passers-by. And then there were the mice-lice, always trying to drink my tea… But up here, I can see the whole valley – and swoop down on whomever I please.”

  Frog peered down into the valley. Through the encroaching darkness he could see the King and Queen’s forces – looking not much bigger than ants – tramping through the snow.

  “As long as you don’t swoop down on them again,” Frog said.

  “Baa,” agreed Sheriff Explosion.

  “Sound advice, by gosh,” nodded the bragon, his claw around his own throat. “Flying can be tricky with your head chopped—”

  “Wait, we have to swoop down on them!” interrupted Frog. “We have to swoop down there right now!”

  “What?” began the bragon. “But you just said—”

  “They caught him! They caught the rarewolf!” Frog cried, pointing to the back of the royal convoy. A dozen soldiers dragged the bound, motionless rarewolf through the snow, with the mystery Kroakan tethered behind him. “Why doesn’t the rarewolf use his thundering and lightninging?” muttered Frog. “He should be able to out-mighty the army almost as easily as me.”

  “Oh, I expect it’ll be fine …” said the bragon unconvincingly. He sipped his tea and added, “I’m sure everyone’s put the whole human–rarewolf war behind them…”

  “Human–rarewolf war?” cried Frog. “Oh, great! The rarewolf’s going to be sliced up for polished sandwiches! You have to fly me down there, bragon!”

  “No chance!” protested the bragon. “I’m not going anywhere near them, due to the aforementioned head-chopping.”

  “The rarewolf tried to help us. Now we have to help him!” cried Frog. “Look, I am a mighty alien outer space someone from the planet Kroak and I command you to fly me down there!”

  “Now hang on a tinkle,” began the bragon. “A) I have no idea what you just said, and B) I am not swooping down there to face certain death. Even if I was filled with hot air there’s no way I could carry that great beast to safety. Meanwhile, you’d have to take on the whole army single-handed and despite what you think, you wouldn’t last two minutes.”

  “I’d last a million minutes!” cried Frog. “You’ve only seen me at twelve-per-cent mightiness! I’ll save the rarewolf and protect you – trust me!”

  “I’m not staking my life on a hollow boast,” insisted the bragon. “I’d rather be a living coward than a dead hero.”

  “But they’re going to kill him!” growled Frog.

  “Better him than me!” replied the bragon. “No, I’m sorry, Frog – you don’t need a bragon … you need a miracle.”

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK.

  Frog, the bragon and Sherriff Explosion turned slowly.

  The knocking was coming from behind the door to nowhere.

  “What the … what?” muttered Frog.

  The Door to Nowhere

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK.

  KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

  “Well, it’s never done that before,” whispered the bragon, inspecting the door to nowhere from both sides.

  “Baa,” said Sheriff Explosion.

  Frog strode towards the door. “Whatever’s knocking, it’s going to knock the door down if we don’t open it,” he said. “Stand back … this is a job for Basil Rathbone.”

  Frog drew his invincible sword and slashed the door’s iron chains. They clattered to the ground in pieces. Frog took a breath, turned the handle and pulled open the door…

  “See? I told you someone was home,” said a tiny mouse of a voice.

  Standing in the doorway, clad in a glittering golden dress, was the daughter of the King and Queen of Everything…

  “Princess Rainbow?” blurted Frog.

  “Hello, Greeny!” exclaimed the princess. “You look rubbish. What are you doing in the blue house?”

  “What are you doing in the blue house?” Frog scoffed. “This door only goes to nowhere!”

  “Oh, good, you’re being silly again,” the princess replied. “You being silly is my favourite thing.”

  She klik-klakked into the room on tiny heels. Frog tutted and peered inside the doorway. He was confronted by a pair of moderately thick tree trunks, which he quickly realized were legs. He looked up to see the brawny, furry-panted form of Princess Rainbow’s bodyguard (and sometime royal champion), Man-Lor.

  “I am Man-Lor,” the barbarian boomed.

  “I know who you are, you big lump of lumps,” replied Frog, prodding one of the barbarian’s bemuscled legs as he squeezed himself through the door. “But where did you come from?”

  “The palace, silly Frog,” replied Princess Rainbow. “This is the wizard’s secret blue house in the clouds. It’s where he kept all his secret magic things … except I knew about them because I made him tell me his secrets and he had to because I’m a princess.” She pointed an outstretched finger at the bragon. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “This is Nigel the bragon,” said Frog impatiently. “And we’re actually in the middle of something important, so—”

  “Well, I came to pay my respeks … a
fter I tried on all my tiaras and rode all my new newnicorns,” said the princess. “I came to put this where it belonged.”

  She nodded to Man-Lor. From behind his back, the barbarian produced a long, pointy wizard’s hat and handed it to the princess.

  “Oldasdust’s Omen hat?” said Frog. “Uh, could you do this later? We’re busy with—”

  “Shh, quiet for the respeks,”said the princess. She walked over to the blue table and placed the hat upon it. “Bye, old wizard of Kin’domland.”

  Princess Rainbow was silent for a long, reflective moment … before clapping her hands together and jumping up and down.

  “Respeks over! Let’s play!”

  “Play-shmay!” snapped Frog. “The rarewolf is about to get his head chopped off by the King and Queen of Everything!”

  “Mummy and Daddy are here?” said the princess, looking around. “I want to see them! Where are they?”

  “Down there,” replied Frog, glaring at the bragon. “They’re going to chop off the rarewolf’s head and someone won’t even fly me down— Wait a mint … this is perfect!”

  “Baa?” asked Sheriff Explosion.

  “Don’t you get it, bragon?” continued Frog. “Princess Rainbow is the King and Queen’s daughter. The royal army isn’t going to go anywhere near you if you’re with her. While I’m doing my rescue business, the princess can stay with you and make sure no one chops your head off!”

  “That might work,” mused the bragon, adjusting his spectacles. “But couldn’t the princess just tell the King and Queen not to chop off the rarewolf’s head?”

  “If there’s a rarewolf down there, nothing will stop Mummy chopping its head off,” replied the princess, peering down. “She hates rarewolves more than anything.”

  “I’ll stop her with mightiness!” insisted Frog. “Please, Nigel, you have to help me! The princess will protect you – right, Princess?”

  “I want to see Mummy and Daddy!” she said.

  “See?” said Frog. “So what do you say?”

  The bragon swigged the last of his tea and swallowed nervously.

  “I hope you’re as mighty as you say you are, Frog.” Frog grinned. “I’m mighterier.”

  The Rescue

  Nigel the bragon stood on the porch of the blue house, booming his best boasts. By the time he cried, “The Duke is more dazzlingly daring than a dozen derring-doers!” he looked fit to burst.

  “Why does he sound funny?” asked Princess Rainbow. “And what’s a ‘dook’?”

  “The Duke is … is…” the bragon added, peering down down at the royal army. “Is it too late to change my mind?”

  “Yes!” replied Frog, scooping up Sheriff Explosion in both arms. “Everyone comes – the princess will make sure no one gets anything chopped off.”

  So the bragon took Man-Lor’s hand, who took the hand of Princess Rainbow, who held out her hand for Frog.

  “Uh…” said Frog, trying to free up a hand without dropping his trusty steed. Finally he shrugged and stuck out a leg. “Grab hold, Princess!”

  In the valley below, the army had gathered in preparation for the execution. The rarewolf struggled against thick chains, its snout muzzled with leather straps. The Queen of Everything loomed over him and drew her sword.

  “Oh dear,” muttered the King. “Chop chop…”

  “Please stop!” cried the mystery Kroakan, Captain Camperlash’s blade at her throat. “The rarewolf is not your enemy – he would never have harmed the princess. He was after the egg – the golden egg!”

  “Shut it, gobbin spewn!” snarled Camperlash, striking the Kroakan with the hilt of his sword. “You’ll get yours for fraternizin’ with an enemy of Kingdomland…”

  “I swore that you would pay for invading my castle and threatening my daughter, rarewolf,” said the Queen, holding her sword aloft. “I swore that all rarewolves would—”

  BUURRRRRRP!

  Everyone looked round to see who was responsible for the belch. Everyone except for the King, who looked up.

  “I say, is that a bragon carrying a barbarian carrying a princess carrying a gobbin … carrying a cloud? It’s the first sign of the End of the World!”

  “Hands off that rarewolf!” came a cry.

  This time the Queen looked up to see Frog dangling upside down – the final link in a bizarre, belching-bragon-propelled daisy chain. As the bragon swooped low he dropped Frog into the snow.

  “Here is the champion!” cried Frog, scrambling to his feet. He struck a heroic pose as an upturned Sheriff Explosion flailed beside him. The Queen watched the bragon-chain wheel around to land further down the valley. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted her daughter slide down Man-Lor’s back into the snow.

  “Rainbow…? They have Rainbow!” she cried, lowering her sword. “Frog, if you so much as harm a hair on her head…!”

  “The princess is fine – this is between you and me, Queen,” boomed Frog, drawing his sword. “And the King, obviously. And the rarewolf, ’cause that’s who I’m rescuing. And the mystery Kroakan. Actually I’m not really sure about her, but that doesn’t mean you can chop off her head. And basically your whole, entire army. I hope you’re all hungry ’cause the quiche of defeat is hot out of the oven!”

  “Turncoatin’ slope! I should have killed you when I had the chance,” roared Camperlash.

  “Stay your sword, Captain, I shall handle this,” said the Queen. She strode through the snow towards Frog. When there were no more than five paces between them, she raised her sword and added, “Champions … always spoiling for a fight.”

  “Wait, you want me to fight you? I can’t do fighting with a Queen,” Frog blurted. “Send someone else – you’ve got a whole army back there…”

  “You will fight me!” roared the Queen, swinging her sword. Frog had no time for a skilful parry – with a forceful KLUNG of blade upon blade, he was flung backwards. The Queen wasted no time in attacking again. Frog felt KLUNG after KLUNG rattle his teeth and bones. He tried to dig his feet into the soft snow as he was driven back…

  “Where is your might now, ‘Champion’?” roared the Queen. Her blade was so swift that Frog barely saw it coming – it knocked Basil Rathbone from his hand and sent it flying into the snow.

  He instinctively drew his sunder-gun but that too was slashed from his hand. A moment later, the Queen cast her own sword to the ground. Frog paused for a moment, not sure what to do next.

  “Well? Fight!” the Queen cried.

  Frog held his breath to activate his camouflage but the Queen was too fast for him – she brought her fist flying into his face.

  THOMP!

  Frog saw stars. There came another blow – and another – blow after blow until he found himself face down in the snow.

  “Wuh the … Wuuh?” groaned Frog, his head spinning. He heard footsteps crunch through the snow, and the voice of the Queen.

  “I have a seen a dozen champions come and go, Frog,” she said. “They were all seduced by their own legend. They thought that their might was a gift that no one could take from them. But might … strength … power … these are crops to be tended.”

  Through swollen, half-opened eyes, Frog saw the Queen retrieve her sword from the ground. Then he saw his own sword, lying in the snow at arm’s length. With his last ounce of strength, he reached out…

  “You could have been a great champion, Frog,” said the Queen, holding her sword aloft. “Now you will be less than nothing – not so much as a footnote in history. Whereas I … I am Kingdomland.”

  Finally, Frog felt Basil Rathbone’s handle. He wrapped his fingers around it and gripped tightly, but found he had no strength to lift it. As he slipped into unconsciousness, he heard the Queen cry, “Avert your eyes, Rainbow!” Then another noise – a grating hum, growing louder, filling the air…

  Then darkness.

  The Wake Up Call

  “Frog?”

  Frog opened his eyes. He checked that he still had a head, and sat up
. He was on a small, wooden raft, floating across a vast expanse of water. It was the same crudely bound collection of logs he’d used to journey beyond his island home. But that raft had been smashed to pieces – he’d seen it happen.

  Frog watched a whistle-fish bob out of the water, wink at him, and dive back into the deep.

  “What th—” he began.

  “I forgot how lovely the Inbetween is,” said a soft voice. Frog turned to see Buttercup sitting at the other end of the raft, her feet dangling in the water as she stared out to sea.

  “Buttercup?” said Frog. “How did I get here? I was in the valley. I was … wait a miniscule, am I dreaming again? Am I UnSlumbering?”

  “You tell me,” said Buttercup, turning to him. While she still had her mass of brown hair, Buttercup had the face of a sheep.

  “Yoiks!” said Frog. “Definitely UnSlumbering. But why am I asleep? I was in the valley…”

  “You’re unconscious, Frog. You’re in a bit of a bad way, to be honest…” explained Buttercup. “But you’re also in grave danger. I need you to wake up. Now.”

  “The Queen,” said Frog, remembering. “She … defeated me.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid she did. But that doesn’t matter now,” Buttercup replied.

  “How does a champion get defeated by the person who made him a champion in the first place?” continued Frog, peering down at his small, green hands. “I’m supposed to be mighty…”

  “Frog, You have to wake up now,” insisted Buttercup. “If you don’t, you’re going to die.”

  “Wake up? I don’t know how,” Frog replied.

  Buttercup stood up and walked towards him. “A sharp shock should do it,” she said.

  “You have the face of a sheep,” Frog replied. “That’s pretty shocking.”

  Buttercup glanced at her reflection in the water and scratched her woolly chin. “You are the master of your destiny, whatever anyone else tries to tell you,” she said, turning back to Frog. “And … I’m sorry about this.”