by Guy Bass
“You’re one of the ay’lun space invaders,” she said. “I like that you speak proper English and not gibby gobby goo. Mummy says everyone should speak proper—”
“Your mother? Ha!” growled the rarewolf. “If that witch even still lives, she’ll be a slave to the—”
“Look!” interrupted Kryl, loudly. “The whole invasion thing isn’t ideal for anyone. But can we at least all agree that we want to make it out of here alive?”
“I command that, actually,” said Princess Rainbow, glowering at the rarewolf.
“Good,” continued Kryl. “We don’t have long. The Kroakans will soon work out we’ve escaped to these caves and come looking for us. We need a way out of here.”
“Man-Lor not go outside,” said Man-Lor.
“Too right, by gosh,” concurred the bragon, wiping mouse-louse slobber from his spectacles. “But these tunnels stretch for miles in every direction. All the way to the Upside-Downtains in the west and the royal palace in the east.”
“Palace! Palace!” cried the princess, excitedly. “I can show you my pets!”
“We’ll find no protection there,” growled the rarewolf. “The palace was half-demolished by the last invasion.”
“But I have to change my dress – this one has ay’lun space invader explosions all over it,” said the princess matter-of-factly.
“Oh, well why didn’t you say so?” snapped the rarewolf. “Let’s all risk our lives for the sake of a dress!”
“No … the princess is right,” interrupted Kryl, clenching her fist. “We should go to the palace. If it’s already been decimated, perhaps the Kroakans won’t think to look there…”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever—” the rarewolf began.
“Outvoted!” interrupted the princess, sticking out her tongue at the rarewolf. “Which way to the palace of Kin’domland, Nigel the bragon?”
The journey to the palace was long and cold, through dark tunnels and even darker passageways. After initial introductions, the odd assemblage remained largely quiet as they made their way through the gloom. Only the princess broke the silence, whiling away the hours by describing all three hundred and three of her dresses in detail. But after a while, even she grew tired and fell asleep in Man-Lor’s arms.
Frog remained silent, as if his spirit had left him.
It was almost dawn by the time the travellers emerged, hungry and frozen, from the tunnels. They clambered out into the bitter air at the foot of a mountain. Frog recognized the place immediately. He had been here only three days ago, expecting to be welcomed with open arms as a prince of Kingdomland. He stared up at the ruins of the royal palace. Even though only two of its many towers and spires remained, it was still a sight to behold.
“Home?” yawned the princess, waking up. She looked up at the palace and rubbed her eyes. “So, first I’ll eat polished sandwiches until I burp, which when you’re a princess is called a ‘royal hiccup’. And then I will show you all my crowns. And then we’re going to play dressing up. And then— What’s that smell?”
Frog sniffed the air. It smelled like a log fire. He slowly turned and peered out over Kingdomland.
“Yoiks…” he whispered.
Countless glowing red pools lit up the gloom. As far as the eye could see, fires raged.
“They’re – they’re all over Kingdomland,” said the rarewolf, his eyes wide. “None of the six-and-a-half realms have been spared. Not even the half-realm…”
“Buttercup,” began Frog. “I have to find her…”
“Your friend is all right, Frog, I promise – the island is shielded by a powerful spell,”said Kryl. She nudged the rarewolf in the ribs. “Isn’t that right?”
“What? Oh yes, Buttercup is alive and well,” the rarewolf grunted. “It’s the rest of the world we need to worry about…”
“Mummy and Daddy will sort it all out,” Princess Rainbow assured them. “They’ve fought the whole of Kin’domland and not lost a fight ever. Now, who wants to see my crowns?”
The Clothes Make the Frog
“Open the gates!” squealed the princess, as they made their way across a nerve-shredding, rickety, wooden bridge to the palace (the original bridge having been destroyed in the first invasion). “We’re all going to dress up and have a tea party until the horrid things stop.”
“Tea party?” repeated the bragon delightedly. “I’m gasping, by gosh!”
While the palace guards were relieved to find their princess safe, they were less happy about letting in her strange acquaintances, especially since Kroakans, rarewolves and bragons were all officially enemies of Kingdomland. But upon the princess’s command, the remaining palace staff came out of hiding and prepared a breakfast of polished sandwiches, polished cakes and hot, polished tea.
In the relative safety of the palace’s underground wine cellars, everyone ate their fill – but dread still gnawed away in the pit of Frog’s stomach. How long before the traceships made their way to the palace? How long before all of Kingdomland was conquered?
“Dress-up time!” said Princess Rainbow, getting down from the table. “I’m going to wear my snow dress. Because it’s – buurp! – snowing.”
“Actually, we could all do with some warm, fresh clothes,” suggested Kryl. “Perhaps a little ‘dressing up’ wouldn’t be a bad idea. What do you think, Frog?”
Frog peered at his shredded cape and threadbare catastrophe pants and pushed out a sigh.
“Fine … but nothing champion-style.”
Twenty minutes later, the princess and her guests were dressed in fresh, warm clothes, collected from staff, sentries and even what remained of the King and Queen’s wardrobe.
“I am not wearing this,” Frog groaned, staring at himself in one of the princess’s most flattering mirrors. His catastrophe pants were in a heap on the floor – instead the princess had dressed him in large, furry shorts, leather armour with an ornate golden clasp in the middle of his chest, and a particularly impressive furred cape. “I look all championed-up like a mighty barbarian … I look like Man-Lor!”
“I am Man-Lor,” said Man-Lor.
“I think we all look first-rate, truth be told,” noted Nigel, swishing his new scarlet scarf. “Almost makes me wish I wore more clothes.”
“And it’s better than looking like a homeless hob-gobbin,” tutted Princess Rainbow, admiring her own bright, white dress, snow-crow feather-lined cape and icy silver tiara. “Where’s your ay’lun friend? I’ve got a cape that will bring out the yellow of her ay’lun eyes…”
Frog looked around, but Kryl was no longer in the room. He turned to the rarewolf.
“She said she had something to take care of,” he said with a shrug. “In the dungeon.”
“The dungeon? What’s in the— Waaait, unless…” said Frog. He raced out of the room as fast as his furry boots would carry him. “Come on, Sheriff Explosion!”
As Frog raced out of the changing chamber, Sheriff Explosion appeared sheepishly from behind a mirror, wearing thick, rosy lipstick and four of the princess’s most sparkly shoes.
“Baa?”
The Last Resort
Frog hurried and hopped through the palace, looking for Kryl. Palace staff recoiled in horror as the green-skinned, furry-shorted creature ran past them.
“The dungeon!” he cried. “Where’s the dungeon?”
Frog followed their nervous pointing, down a long stairwell into the servants’ quarters. Then down again, into the underground chambers beneath the palace. He came to a long, white-walled corridor with a thick door at its end. He sped down it to find the door ajar.
“Kryl!” he cried. She was standing in the middle of the room, her bow drawn, an arrow ready to fire. In the centre of the cage, his feet shackled to the ground by thick chains, was General Kurg. The defeated Kroakan commander was even taller than Man-Lor, with dark-green skin and two large, orange-yellow eyes. Even stripped of his Kroakan battle armour, he was an imposing sight.
&n
bsp; “By the Void! Prince Frog, you still live!” cried General Kurg. “How did you survive the Second Wave?”
“What are you doing, Kryl?” asked Frog. “You can’t… Don’t shoot him!”
“It was him, Frog. It was Kurg who activated the probe!” she hissed, her hand shaking as she kept the bowstring taut. “He’s the reason they sent the traceships!”
“What? How’s that even possible? He’s been stuck in this dungeon the whole time,” said Frog.
The general burst out laughing. “By the Smell of Victory! You have a lot to learn, O Prince. King Kroak leaves nothing to chance,” scoffed General Kurg. He reached into his mouth and wrenched out a tooth.
“Yoiks…” blurted Frog. “And eww.”
“This – ow – is my Mayday Molar,” explained General Kurg, holding up the tooth. “The last resort of a Kroakan general. You see, only a king or prince may summon the Second Wave, but a general can use this to remotely activate a probe should the First Wave fail.”
“You sent the orb to find me?” said Frog.
“The probe is programmed to search out all Kroakan life on the planet and beam its findings back to King Kroak,” the general responded. “I can only assume by all the glorious explosions outside that your betrayal was discovered! It seems King Kroak has taken matters into his own hands…”
“Monster! You’ve doomed your own prince!” cried Kryl.
“By the Boot of Oppression! What did you expect me to do, admit defeat? I am a general in the Army of a Thousand Sons! Space invading is my life!” growled Kurg. “And speaking of monsters, wait ’til you meet Major Krass. Now there’s a Kroakan who scares even me…”
“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done,” snarled Kryl. “I’ll make you pay.”
Frog heard Kryl’s bowstring stretch to its limit as she prepared to loose her arrow.
“Stop!” Frog cried. “What are you doing?”
“He cost us everything, Frog!” hissed Kryl, her eyes flooding red with rage. “He cost me everything!”
“Look, I wish I could flush General Kurg down a bottomless toilet made of spikes and fire – of course I do,” began Frog. “But Buttercup told me that I was meant to be good – that I must always make the right choice. This isn’t that. This is bad.”
Kryl held her breath for a long, silent moment. Then she lowered her bow, fell to her knees and began to sob. Frog walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Frog,” Kryl wept. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, everything’s going to be all right,” Frog replied. “I mean, I think everything’s hopefully maybe going to be all right.”
“By the Imperial Underwear! What mawkish slush,” groaned General Kurg. “Major Krass is going to tear you to pieces, Frog.”
“Shut up! You’re still in big fat troubles, General,” snapped Frog. “I’m going to leave you down here forever … and make sure they only feed you burpy turnips.”
“Frog!” came a cry. Frog turned to see the bragon appear at the door, the rarewolf and Sheriff Explosion following behind.
“It’s Princess Rainbow,” continued the bragon. “She said she wanted to see ‘Mummy and Daddy defeat the invaders’. She said she was going back to the blue house.”
“What? But it’s miles to the blue— Wait, the secret door. She’s going back there!” Frog leaped to his feet and turned to his trusty steed. “Come on, Sher— Wait, are you wearing lipstick?”
“Baa,” replied the sheep.
“Bonkers,” he sighed.
The Last of the Rarewolves
Frog and the others hurried back up the palace stairs. With the rarewolf following the princess’s plum-petal scent, they raced up and up into the once-regal, now-blasted parts of the palace. Finally, they emerged in a half-disintegrated chamber marked Royal Wizard’s Room – Please Knock (Princesses Exempt From Knocking) – and stepped inside.
What remained of the room was empty except for a blue door, slightly ajar. Frog made his way over to it. Written on the door in neat letters were the words:
KEEP OUT.
NO SECRET MAGIC WIZARD THINGS WITHIN.
AT ALL. NOT ONE.
And underneath that, in smaller letters:
IF YOU’RE STILL READING YOU’VE PROBABLY REALIZED THERE CERTAINLY ARE SECRET MAGIC WIZARD THINGS WITHIN. PLEASE KEEP OUT ALL THE SAME.
Frog tutted and pushed open the door. There was the front room of the blue house, just as they had left it the previous day. He stepped inside and saw Princess Rainbow at the far end of the room, staring out of the window, down into the valley.
“Frog,” said the princess, softly. “What has happened to my mummy and daddy?”
Frog walked slowly over to the window … and looked down.
Dawn light shone over the horizon, illuminating the devastation. Where once stood proud, crimson mountains were piles of smouldering rubble. Ten or more traceships had landed on the ground and deposited their sinister occupants. Frog saw dozens upon dozens of Kroakan troopers, each clad in black armour and armed with sunder-guns.
And in the centre of what remained of the valley, covered by a glowing dome of green energy, was a huddled crowd of survivors, fifty at most … all that was left of the royal army.
“Yoiks…” Frog muttered, peering closer through the gathering clouds. Was the Queen down there? The King? Captain Camperlash?
“How’s my valley?” said the bragon, squeezing nervously through the blue door and into the house, closely followed by Kryl, Man-Lor and Sheriff Explosion. “How does it look?”
“Bad,” replied Frog. “It’s all the badness there is, plus a million.”
Everyone had been staring out of the window for more than a minute – except for the rarewolf, who had managed to get himself stuck halfway through the door. His front end now resided in the Omnium Gatherum, while his backside remained firmly in the palace.
“Why haven’t they ka-boomed the blue house?” Frog asked, finally breaking the silence.
“This house is magic,” replied Kryl. “They probably don’t even know we’re here.”
“You have to save my mummy and daddy, Greeny,” said Princess Rainbow, tugging Frog’s furry shorts. “They’re down there, I know they are. You can save them.”
“Princess—” began Frog.
“Don’t you dare, Frog!” shouted the rarewolf, struggling to break free of the doorway. “I want you to save the world more than anyone, but there’s no point in risking your life to save the King and Queen … even if they are still alive.”
“Yes, they’re alive! They’re very alive! Don’t say those things, you emeny of Kin’domland!” squealed the princess. She turned back to Frog, tears in her eyes. “Please, Frog… Please save my mummy and daddy.”
“But … that’s champion business,” Frog began. “I told you, I’m not—”
“Frog!” the rarewolf growled. “I never told you how I came to be the last of the rarewolves, did I?”
“What’s that got to do with—?” Frog began.
“Just listen,” the rarewolf growled. “You remember how I used the lightning to bring down your farship? Well, I went to check there were no survivors … and discovered the ship had crashed in the grounds of the palace. I tried to warn the Queen of the danger, but she would not let me in. With the prophecy weighing heavy on my mind, I broke into the palace.”
“Bad rarewolf,” tutted Princess Rainbow.
“I followed the Kroakan scent – the scent of your egg – to the princess’s chambers,” the rarewolf continued. “But no sooner had I got there than I was overwhelmed by the Queen and her guards. I had spent all my lightning crashing the alien ship … I was as weak as a cub. So I fled. That was the day the Queen declared war on all rarewolves! Because they thought I meant to harm their daughter, they hunted us down – rooted out my brothers and sisters and murdered them. They called it a war against the enemies of peace … but it was a slaughter.”
“The Queen killed the rarewolves?” asked Frog.
“Every one … except me. I ran away and I haven’t stopped running since,” replied the rarewolf. “So, believe me, the King and Queen of Everything are not worth saving!”
“Shut up!” said Princess Rainbow. “I’m the princess, so shut up!”
“The Queen defeated you, Frog!” continued the rarewolf. “She thrashed you and humiliated you in front of everyone! Why risk your life for her?”
Frog stared out of the window, up into the morning sky. Finally he said, “Because it’s the right choice.”
He turned slowly.
“Prophecies and destinies are a load of plops,” he continued. “But that doesn’t change the fact there’s a load of folks down there who needs saving, maybe a whole world of folks, and even if the folks who need saving wouldn’t save me if I needed saving – even if they’d rather chop my head off – I still can’t not save those folks without being bad for not saving them. And not being mighty isn’t a reason to not save the folks who are in need of saving … even if that means I get killed to bits.”
“Is anyone else confused?” asked the bragon.
“Frog, please, you don’t have to—” began Kryl.
“What I mean is, I might not be mighty,” continued Frog. “But I’m all dressed up like a champion, so it’s time to do some champion business.”
“Do it, by gosh!” cried the bragon.
“Together,” Frog said.
“Oh, poo,” said the bragon.
The Excellent Magicals and the Champion Business
Frog quickly concocted a plan to rescue the prisoners of the Kroakan army. It was worryingly vague, but with every reference to “excellent magicals” and “champion business” he seemed to regain a measure of his old confidence. One thing had changed, however. Frog knew he could be defeated … he knew he could lose.