by Guy Bass
“Excellent … magicals…” Frog wheezed.
“What?” barked Major Krass, lifting his boot off Frog’s chest. “Speak up, traitor.”
“I said … excellent magicals,” Frog gasped again.
“What of them?” grunted the major. Frog smiled.
“I kept one,” he replied. Frog opened his right hand. He was holding a talisman with two circles carved into it – one large, one small. With the last of his strength he threw it at the major’s chest. It exploded upon impact and Major Krass was engulfed in a shimmering golden light.
A moment later, he was no bigger than a mouse.
“What is this? Undo this madness! I command it!” the major squeaked in a tiny voice.
Frog sat up slowly and plucked him off the ground, holding him between two fingers. Then he looked up at the house, to see the princess, Kryl and Man-Lor poised with yet more magic-filled boxes.
Frog nodded. “Let ’em have it,” he said.
The Prisoners
As it turned out, the sight of their leader shrunk down to mouse size – and having nine boxes of magic talismans dumped on their heads – was more than enough to send the remaining Kroakan troopers fleeing into the caves.
“Frog! You did it!” cried Kryl, as she brought the house to a bumpy landing in the middle of the ruined valley. “Are you all right?”
Frog stood up and dusted himself off, staring at the tiny, rage-filled Kroakan Major in his hands.
“I’m… I’m…” Frog began, the dislodged tooth falling out of his mouth. “I’m mightier than ever! Did you see my skilled-up moves with the talisman? KA-SHRINK! And look! I’ve got a new pet mini-Kroakan and everything.”
“You will die in agony! You will rue the day! You will— Nooooooo…!” squeaked Major Krass, as Frog slipped him into the pocket of his furry shorts.
“Glad to see you’re back to your old self,” said Kryl with a smile.
“Greeny!” the princess cried. Frog turned to see her pointing at the sunder-dome. “Make this thing go away, Greeny!”
“I was just getting to that, actually,” replied Frog, picking up Basil Rathbone. With a few slashes from his magical sword, the dome of energy vanished into nothing. Forty or so prisoners spilled out, wounded, dazed and relieved, into the valley.
“Mummy? Daddy?” squeaked Princess Rainbow, pushing through the crowd of soldiers. “Where are you?”
Frog held his breath, scouring the crowd through swollen eyes. Then, finally:
“Give the Majesties some air, y’ slopes!” came a cry. The crowd parted, and Captain Camperlash stepped out, carrying the King of Everything in his arms.
“Daddy!” Princess Rainbow cried, racing over to them. As Camperlash laid the King carefully on the ground, the princess ran into her father’s arms.
“Oh, my little peapod! How I missed you!” wept the King happily. “Did you see the End of the World? What a show! I can’t wait to see it again!”
“I said you were alive! And I said that Greeny should save you, so he did!” she said, tears in her eyes. “But where is—?”
“I’m here, Rainbow,” replied the Queen, limping out of the crowd of soldiers. “Come and give your mother a hug.”
“She’s alive? Curses!” cried the rarewolf from inside the house.
“What are you doing consorting with these enemies of Kingdomland, Rainbow?” asked the Queen, glowering at Frog as the princess hugged her. “And what have I told you about having friends?”
“I know, Mummy,” the princess replied. “But everything went wrong and blowed up and I didn’t know what to do and you weren’t there.”
“Don’t worry, I’m here now – I’ll sort out everything,” said the Queen. She pointed at Frog. “Captain Camperlash, seize this traitorous creature. And seize his companions while you’re at it!”
“What the bumbles?” Frog blurted.
“Y’ Majesty?” blurted Camperlash.
“Mummy!” snapped the princess.
“Can’t you see? He’s one of them… An invader! An enemy of Kingdomland!” the Queen hissed.
“Oh, this is bonkers,” whispered Frog. He held up his sword again, as he, Kryl, the bragon and Sheriff Explosion gathered together, ready for yet another fight…
“Mummy, stop it!” protested Princess Rainbow. “Frog saved you!”
“Greeny save us all,” added Man-Lor. “I am Man-Lor.”
“Look around! The World is Ending! We must restore peace! We must destroy our enemies! We must—” began the Queen.
“Can’t we just have peas and quiet for once?” interrupted the King, staring up into the sky. “I’m not even sure what day it is, but I know starting another fight now is madness. I mean, it’s not as if it’s the End of the World…”
“But … but … fine,” the Queen grumbled. Then she looked at Princess Rainbow, and smiled. “It’s good to see you again, little poppet.”
Frog watched the King, Queen and Princess of Everything embrace. Man-Lor and Camperlash stood close by, both trying to remember the last time anyone had hugged them.
“Looks like the family’s back together,” Frog smiled. He glanced down and saw Sheriff Explosion nuzzle his leg.
“Baa.”
“You said it,” said Frog. “Let’s get out of here.”
The Second Part of the Prophecy
Frog didn’t wait around to say goodbye to the princess – he and his trusty steed made their way back inside the blue house. Kryl and the bragon were already inside, struggling to free the rarewolf as he grumbled about his predicament.
“You should have – ow! – seen all my champion business, rarewolf! I was so mighty that I could have defeated a million traceships … maybe even a hundred!” cried Frog, as he limped inside, prodding the impressive scar over his left eye. “You were right – I mean the prophecy was right… I am going to save the world!”
“Actually the second part of the prophecy didn’t say you would save the world,” corrected the rarewolf. “It said you were the only one who could. And let’s face it, Kingdomland still burns.”
“Fine, who shall we save next?” said Frog. “I’ve got enough mightiness to go around!”
“No offence, but I’ve had enough of heroism to last a lifetime, truth be told,” said the bragon. “I need a cup of tea…”
“They’re right, Frog,” sighed Kryl. “You were very brave and yes, very mighty. But the Kroakans have overrun this world and we have one box of talismans left. We need to hide. It’s the only way we’ll survive.”
“Come on, you must believe in the prophecy after all my champion business?” he asked. There was a long moment of silence. “Wait a minotaur, does anyone believe it?”
“Well…” muttered the bragon.
“The thing is…” added Kryl.
“I thought I did…” sighed the rarewolf.
“Baa,” said Sheriff Explosion.
“Yoiks,” Frog sighed. “None of you believe I can save the world?”
“I b’lieve it,” said a small voice.
Frog turned to see Princess Rainbow standing in the doorway. “I b’lieved you could save my mummy and daddy and you did. I b’lieved you could stop the ay’lun space invaders and you did. With help from all of us and especially me, because I’m a princess.”
She smiled a toothy smile.
“And I b’lieve you can save the world, too.”
Frog heard explosions echoing through the air … the grating hum of traceships … the shriek of sunder-beams … the rumble of sunder-storms … the sound of the End of the World.
He took a deep breath.
“So do I,” he said with a grin. “Let’s get started.”
Nigel’s Guide to
Bragging
Step One
A wise old bragon once said, “If no one’s around to hear your bragging, does it even make a sound?” To fill yourself up with hot air, you’ll need someone to listen to your boasts, by gosh! Oh, you might feel awkward tell
ing everyone how thoroughly brilliant you are (and yes, they’ll eventually want to punch you in the face) but remember: if you don’t boast, you don’t fly … and a life without flying is a load of old smell.
Step Two
Start small. Big boasts on an empty stomach are a recipe for trapped wind. You may want to jump in with both claws, but you’ll inflate too quickly and end up farting for a week. And you’ll still be stuck on the ground! Build your bragging slowly at first – start by giving yourself a nifty title (The Duke/Captain Admiral/Glorious Victorious/Beverley Superbest) and then focus on how colourful, shiny and toothsome you are.
Step Three
Time to get serious, by gosh. A steady flow of boasts is essential for proper inflation. Use your surroundings for inspiration (“The Duke could out-run that horse! The Duke could out-swim that fish! The Duke could out-smell that flower! And that one! And that one!”). It helps to address your audience directly, especially if you’re telling them why you’re much, much better then they are.
Step Four
Don’t wait, inflate! Keep the boasts coming thick and fast by awarding yourself as many impressive titles as possible – a quick fire list will ensure rapid expansion (“Behold, the Tremendous Truth Trumpet, Major Magnitude, The Greater Still, Noble-Head the Fantabulous…” and so forth.).
Step Five
Up, up and away! Once you’re filled with hot air, you’ll find yourself floating into the sky. Use your wings to point you in the right direction and control your descent with careful burps. Yes, your parents might tell you burping’s rude but it’s the only thing that will stop you floating up into the sun! On the other hand, a really big burp will leave you totally airless … and it’s a long way down. Follow this simple rule, by gosh: the bigger the belch, the bigger the squelch!
The Rebel
“Who’s there?”
The Kroakan sentry drew his sunder-gun. He peered nervously into the darkness of the forest. “Show yourself, in the name of King Kroak!”
“It’s me, you slurm,” came a cry. “Put that away before you hurt someone!”
“Kroop?” whimpered the sentry. From behind a blackened tree emerged another Kroakan. The otherworldly pair looked all but identical, with green skin, wide, hairless heads and bulbous, amphibian eyes. They even shared the same sleek, oil-black armour, which glinted in the light of the three moons.
“Of course it’s Kroop! Who did you expect, King Kroak?” said the second Kroakan. “Your shift is up, Krud.”
“You’re my relief? What a relief! I almost … relieved myself,” said Krud, sighing with relief. He pointed to the ten saucer-shaped spaceships parked behind them in a clearing of the forest. “Security of the fleet is all yours, Kroop … and not a mikron too soon. I hate sentry duty – something about this planet gives me the slurms.”
“You worry too much, Krud,” said Kroop. “We’ll have this mud ball conquered in no time. The natives are always trouble at first, but they come around soon enough. And if they don’t, we destroy them. The system works!”
“It’s not the natives I’m worried about,” said Krud with a shiver. “It’s him.”
“‘Him’? Oh, Kroak’s Elbow, not this again,” sighed Kroop. “I’m not listening to any more of your guff, Krud. This ‘rebel’ of yours is a myth.”
“But what if the legends are true? What if he’s the lost Kroakan prince, fighting against his own army, picking off our squadrons one by one?” whimpered Krud, his eyes darting frantically about. “They say he appears at night, riding on a thundercloud… They say he’s taller then a thorg, with arms as thick as a zerk’s tentaclaws, eyes redder than a grox’s left buttock and legs longer than a flooble’s—”
“Guff! Your brain’s in a stink,” tutted Kroop.
“—And fire breath and mind control and acid for blood!” added Krud.
“Would you shut your communication hole?” Kroop snapped. “For the last time, there is no—”
CRACK!
The snapping of burnt twigs was enough to make both sentries draw their sunder-guns.
“It’s him! It’s the rebel!” cried Krud. “He’s come to show us the folly of war by killing us!”
CRACK!
CRACK!
“Shhh! It’s … it’s coming closer!” hissed Kroop, aiming at the trees. “Set guns to sunder! Prepare to—”
“Baa.”
From the tree line emerged a grubby mess of wool and legs. Krud and Kroop breathed a mutual sigh of relief.
“What is it? Looks like a puff of smoke,” noted Krud, peering at the curious creature.
“Baa,” said the creature.
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to be doing any harm,” noted Kroop. “Let’s blast it to atoms.”
“Baa?” the creature bleated, staring blankly.
“‘Rebel’ indeed! You really need to get your brain unstunk, Krud,” Kroop laughed, aiming his sunder-gun at the creature. “OK, on three. One … two…”
The sentries spun around, their ear hollows ringing from the sound. The traceships were ablaze. They exploded one after the other, collapsing like dominos, metal screeching against metal, torrents of flame belching into the air. In seconds, all the sentries could see was fire.
“Green alert! We’re under attack!” screamed Kroop. “Open fire! Destroy everything that’s not already destroyed!”
As if on cue, sunder-beams streaked out from the inferno, blasting the sentries’ weapons from their hands. A moment later, a figure emerged from the heart of the blaze. He was clad in leather armour and a long cape, which burned and smouldered. In one hand he wielded a sunder-gun, and in the other a gleaming sword. And his skin…
His skin was green.
“The rebel prince! He’s come for us!” squeaked Krud. “And he’s shorter than I expected!”
Kroop and Krud watched in horror as the figure strode towards them, flames licking at his ankles.
“You – you don’t scare us!” cried Kroop. “We are Kroakans! We are fearless! We—”
“We surrender!” Krud pleaded. “Please don’t kill us!”
“I’m not going to kill you … I’m going defeat the bumbles out of you,” came the reply. “And then I’m going to defeat the bumbles out of your whole invasion.”
“What are you?” whispered Kroop.
The rebel glared at him, reflected flames flickering in his eyes.
“I am Frog,” he growled. “Or Frog the Mighty, or The Unforgettable Frog, or The Frog of Steel, or Frog the Defeatinator! … Yoiks, I dunno, which sounds best?”
“Baa…” sighed Sheriff Explosion.
About the Author
Guy Bass is an award-winning author whose children’s books include Secret Agent: Agent of X.M.A.S, the Dinkin Dings series and the highly acclaimed Stitch Head series. In 2010, Dinkin Dings and the Frightening Things won the CBBC Blue Peter Award in the ‘Most Fun Story with Pictures’ category. Guy’s books have also won a number of local book awards.
Guy has also written plays for both adults and children. He has previously been a theatre producer, illustrator and has acted his way out of several paper bags.
Guy lives in London with his wife. He enjoys long walks on toast and the smell of a forgetful sparrow.
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2014.
Text copyright © Guy Bass, 2014
Illustrations copyright © Dynamo, 2014
eISBN: 978–1–84715–561–0
The right of Guy Bass and Dynamo to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or tran
smitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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