The Sword of Tropagia (The Advisor Trilogy Book 1)

by A. J. Chaudhury

  “You saw something?” Viven asked Dirita, curious about her behaviour.

  “Yes. Something like red light.”

  Bufo sprang up. “You saw red light below the water?” he asked Dirita, his voice urgent.

  “Yes.”

  “Wait,” said Viven. “I think I had also seen something like that when we fell down.”

  “Oh my!” said Bufo. “Why didn’t you tell me? Now quick! Everybody, get on my back!”

  “Why?”

  “It’s the vamfant! Monster of the river Brank!”

  ***

  Standing in Unison

  Something had occurred. The dreaded witch Mai Canniola had never felt weaker and, strangely, duller.

  Right after they had entered the temple, she had lost her connection with Milli. The last thing Milli had informed her of was that she had performed the spell to reveal the runes on the walls of the temple of Brene. The connection wasn’t supposed to go off in any circumstance, and yet it had—twice, including this one. However, the last time, which had happened within a few minutes of them entering Grandcawk’s chamber when Milli had swooned, the connection had re-established itself almost immediately. Also, Canniola hadn’t had to experience the odd weakness. Milli had told her the connection had broken due to an unseen wave of power suddenly hitting her.

  In comparison, the break this time was way more prolonged and over half an hour had already passed since it occurred.

  She sighed. The plan had seemed foolproof when she and the Purple One had first conceived of it. The only thing that had troubled her somewhat was the prospect of teleporting the grandson such a good distance away from the hill— a limitation in her powers due to Navarion’s existence. But it mattered no longer since they already had the axe.

  Now Canniola struggled to convince herself the plan wasn’t breaking apart. Her trust on the plan had begun to waver. Had her playing Sezia’s character not appeared genuine enough? Well, she had won their trust and gotten them to come to Tropagia, so that had worked.

  Besides, Milli had succeeded in letting the boys believe she was their aunt and mother. Oh! Canniola so desired to take hold of the grandson’s mind and make him destroy the sword. But that could not be considered. The grandson could not be forced to destroy the sword by any means. He could only be persuaded, never forced. If he did not wish to destroy the sword, she could do nothing, nothing at all.

  So far, she had had to assist them to overcome three major hurdles in achieving her goal, a fourth—she dreaded—was on the verge of emerging.

  The first hurdle had been the Macacawks, who had taken the four of them to their House and insisted that they meet their head of tribe, the disgusting old freak Grandcawk. She had been forced to deploy the Assurs to attack the House, knowing that the Macacawks would hesitate to keep outsiders among them if such a situation arose.

  She regretted the attack, though, as she had had to carry it out during break of dawn. Her Assurs, like her, hated light, for it drained energy from their bodies. She had had to provide them with power shields to safeguard them from the effects of light. Gritting her teeth, she promised “herselves” to make the Macacawks pay for her troubles once the sword was destroyed.

  Then, there was the Shifter tree. The darned tree had been a complete surprise. It had nearly murdered the grandson himself, if not for Milli, who saved him in time, although losing consciousness in the process for a few hours.

  However, it was the third obstacle that Canniola found not displeasing but actually appeasing. Milli and the grandson had stumbled upon Bufo, the frog lord, and he had taken them to the Potion Makers, who had made them prisoners.

  Bufo’s presence with the group had quite quickened them; though, they would never have slowed down if not for the Macacawks and the Shifter tree.

  Foolish even if the frog lord was, Mai Canniola had always liked him from the start. If a beast of his strength were on her side, her victories would have doubled without doubt. But the frog lord had outright refused taking her side and becoming her servant. He was too influenced by the Potion Maker scum lot.

  Then, as of the time being, another problem was also emerging: the disappearance of the Purple One; not that he hadn’t disappeared countless times before, as he was independent of her and could do his pleasing. But that was prior to the plot. His role in it was to act as the pet of Gonai’s nephew and to help Milli in difficult times. He had stuck to none. When the Shifter tree had attacked them, he hadn’t cared to help Milli, who lost consciousness in the process of saving the grandson and herself. And he hadn’t stuck to being the nephew’s pet cat as well. It was all in his character, though, and Canniola knew well he was still trustworthy.

  She sighed. The broken connection was swelling more and more as a worry at the back of her three minds.

  “Mai Canniola,” a voice purred. It was the Purple One; he had just appeared on the stool in front of her.

  “You?” she asked him, tone callous. “Where have you been? The connection between me and Milli has broken!”

  The Purple One grinned, his long whiskers longer than ever, taking Canniola by surprise, brushing away her anxiety.

  “We can force the grandson to destroy Navarion once the sword has been brought out of the temple.”

  Her misty jaw dropped. “How do you know?”

  “Well,” he said, and lingered, not wanting to reveal. “I gathered knowledge from . . .some source.”

  She waited a couple of moments to pass by before speaking, dumbfounded as she was and in a dilemma whether to feel elated or stupid.

  “Why didn’t you tell me before? The plan has been pointless!”

  The Purple One shook his furry head in disagreement.

  “Not that pointless, my dears. Besides, I didn’t know about it until today. And anyway, the grandson remains the sole individual capable of retrieving the sword from the temple. So the plot is not all in vain since we cannot force him either physically or mentally to bring the sword out of the temple.”

  “But you just said we can force him to destroy the sword, didn’t you?” Mai Canniola said, puzzled at the other’s words.

  “You do not understand,” the Purple One said. “We can force the grandson to destroy the sword once it has been brought out of the temple. But we cannot make him, by force, retrieve Navarion neither of which I think will be necessary anymore as he thinks Navarion is a destructive weapon. He would destroy it on his own inside the temple itself.”

  “That hasn’t happened, though, as yet. I don’t feel myself getting stronger. If anything, I feel weaker.”

  “Maybe he hasn’t,” the Purple One agreed. “But he will soon. I think I should check out what has caused the breach in your connection.”

  “You should?” Mai Canniola’s sarcasm knew no bounds. “I think you must.”

  ***

  Bufo’s announcement of a monster being in the river was followed by some very unusual disturbance in the surface of the river. The waves turned violent, rising almost double their normal height.

  Bufo picked the three of them up and hurried to the trees. He stopped only after putting a considerable distance between themselves and the riverbank.

  As they slipped down his back, Viven witnessed what he would have never liked to witness at all. Next to the spot in the bank where they had been but a moment ago, a creature of terrifying magnitude arose from the river. Cylindrical in shape, the creature’s height reached hundreds of feet, and it was making a high-pitched screeching noise that wanted to rip Viven’s ears.

  However, the real appalling feeling struck when it dawned upon him that the creature was made up of innumerable small beings that resembled human infants. It was their crying that was creating the noise. Far from cute, though, the babies, who acted as a single organism, were the ugliest beings Viven had seen. Their eyes bloodshot, their skin was the darkest shade of the colour black, large razor-like fangs and stripped snake-like tongues visible through their open mouths.

&nb
sp; “Viven,” said Bufo, and it was amazing he let himself be heard, “I have a plan.”

  “What?” Viven said, frowning at him, the screeching continuing to inflict torture over his ears.

  “Use the sword to kill that offspring of the devil!”

  At first Viven wondered if Bufo was being over-expectant. The sword was a powerful weapon all right, but wasn’t the monster just too big for it to tackle?

  However, after a moment’s thought, Viven realised that it should be possible. When his grandfather himself had said the sword could bring Canniola’s downfall—and, judging from the rumours, he supposed she was the most powerful in the forest—it should also bring down any monster, and of any size.

  Viven gathered his courage. It’s a test. And whether he could rescue Aunt Gina from the witch’s clutches or not depended on whether he could slay the monster and pass this test.

  With a shout that sounded puny in his own ears, Viven raced down to the riverbank. It was eerie, the uncountable eyes of the babies licking his skin. Shaking like a reed in the wind, he lifted Navarion and, not sure what to say, begged it for help.

  Slowly, maybe because he hadn’t begged with his mouth, a beam of light shot from the tip. It hit the topmost part of the creature where Viven was pointing.

  Not moments afterward, the whole pillar of babies had turned to ash. It fell with a tremendous amount of force, splashing great loads of water and making huge waves, so that Viven had to trot some distance away from the bank.

  The waves subsided, and the river turned to its usual size, the ashen vamfant sinking to its depths.

  Manu gave Viven a thumbs-up, while Dirita ran to the place where her cat’s remains had been—the river had washed the remains away. Manu then clumsily went to where Dirita sobbed, digging the sand with her bare hands as if her cat was buried there.

  Bufo beamed after making a sore look in Dirita’s direction.“See!” he said. “You did it! You killed the vamfant!”

  Viven smiled, finding it hard to grasp his own achievement.

  “You saw that, Crealus? He killed the vamfant!”

  “Unbelievable, isn’t it? The boy’s even more powerful than his grandfather!”

  Who was speaking? Viven thought, because it was nobody of their group. Wondering if he had heard the first speaker’s voice before, he turned. Viven trembled: at the distance of a few yards to their right were two Potion Makers emerging from the trees. Aremis was one of the duo, his companion a red-bearded man. Both men were waving their swords at them.

  Bufo gulped.

  “How did I forget? A troop had been sent to assist the Macacawks against further Assur attacks!”

  ***

  Viven and the others realised soon that there were not two Potion Makers but a whole batch of them, who now emerged from all sides.

  “I can explain,” said a desperate Bufo as the men approached cautiously.

  “Oh, shut up, Bufo!” Aremis barked. “We saw what you did at the Diamension. It’s been a task reviving all of them.”

  “But didn’t you see?” said Bufo. “Algrad’s grandson brought down the vamfant singlehandedly!”

  Viven felt a sudden tug on the sword he had been holding. The next moment, before he knew it, an enormous eagle had snatched it away in its claws. The eagle—a tamed one, as it wore a ring on one of its talons—released Navarion, and Aremis caught it.

  “No!” Viven said, cursing himself for not being careful.

  A smile split Aremis’ face. “It’s only because of this sword.”

  “And see,” said Bufo, giving Viven a hopeless sideways look as he held up the axe Acario. “He helped to find Acario!”

  A wave of attentiveness swept over the Potion Makers at the name of the axe.

  “Acario!” said the red-bearded man beside Aremis, while the latter remained flabbergasted. “But it’s lost, isn’t it?”

  “No longer now,” said Bufo.

  They were taken to the Potion Makers’ Diamension. It was a long trek, now that Bufo could not be a means of transport for them. Viven’s thoughts kept drifting to Aunt Gina. What sort of condition was she in at present? Was she okay or suffering? The former wasn’t a strong possibility. By the gloomy face that Manu bore, Viven reckoned more or less he was thinking the same thing. Viven felt stupid: if only he had had the sense of being less careless with the sword, they could have shaken off the Potion Makers and gone to rescue Aunt Gina.

  However, the four of them pleaded the soldiers to let them go, that Aunt Gina was with Mai Canniola and they needed to save her. They were adamant. The Potion Makers refused to listen to them and said that they couldn’t make any decision without their king.

  So around the time they reached the little hut that was the entrance to the Diamension, it was almost evening. Viven repented over the loss of precious time and time they would lose further on, which they could have devoted to Aunt Gina.

  After entering the Diamension, they were presented in front of His Majesty and his bunch of councillors. All of them, including the king, appeared drowsy and had puffy eyes. Viven suspected it had to do with the enchanted sleep Bufo had put them into by croaking.

  At first their small group was quiet as stones, and then Bufo took up. “Your Majesty,” he addressed the king, “pardon me for what I have done today, but I was only helping the Potion Makers the entire time—”

  “Helping us?” the king asked. “By making us fall asleep? Do you realise you made the Diamension vulnerable with no one guarding it?”

  “I do, Your Majesty, I do.” Bufo was struggling for words. “And-And I am very sorry for that, but . . . but had I not done so, I would have never found the weapon that can bring Mai Canniola’s downfall!”

  “What are you speaking of?” The puffiness was vanishing from the king’s eyes. “Weapon for bringing the witch’s downfall? Make yourself clear.”

  “Hey-hey, show him!”Bufo shouted at Aremis, and then turning to the king, said, “And I even found our axe, Acario!”

  He spoke the last word so loud, it qualified for a yell. It had the intended effect as all the drowsiness fled from everyone’s faces right away. Meanwhile, Aremis handed the sword and the axe to the king. Putting the sword aside, he marvelled at the axe in disbelief, checking its genuineness with open mouth.

  “Ac-Acario!” he stammered. “Oh my! It is Acario! Where did you . . . ?”

  “In a cave in the hill in Canniola’s area,” said Bufo, the confidence increasing in his voice. “It would have never been possible if not for the help of these people.” He indicated at Viven, Manu, and Dirita.

  “Bezon’s kin,” the king asked Viven, “how did you know where our axe, Acario, was?”

  “Er,” Viven began. Luckily Bufo took over for him.

  “It comes down to a trick the foul witch played on them.” He then recounted, with particular interest laid on the two boys and Dirita, all that had occurred ever since he had helped them escape from the Diamension. How they had found the axe in the cave. How they had gone to the temple, intending to destroy the sword, where Algrad’s sub soul had told Viven that someone was fooling with them and that the sword was a good weapon. How Viven had destroyed the imposter witch after coming to know from Algrad that she wasn’t his aunt, and finally, how Viven had slain the vamfant. However, in all his recounting, Bufo did not utter a single word about Algrad being King Brucus’ killer, and Viven couldn’t be more thankful to him.

  “It’s true, Your Majesty,” Aremis added reluctantly. “We saw him turn the vamfant into ash with that sword.”

  The king nodded at him. He turned to Bufo and said, “So, you mean to say that Algrad Bezon, whom we have long suspected to be a traitor, was framed by Mai Canniola? And that all the time he was trying to safeguard this powerful sword from her?”

  “Absolutely, Your Majesty,” said Bufo. His tone was very much genuine sounding, but it wasn’t hard for Viven to detect a slight trace of hesitation.

  The king placed the axe in his la
p and picked up the sword. Examining the tip with intense curiosity, he said, “Can this really demolish Canniola’s powers?”

  “Algrad said so,” Bufo assured.

  “Well, boy,” the king said to Viven, “you know how to use this sword, right?”

  “Yes . . . Your Majesty,” Viven replied awkwardly, unfamiliar to court manners.

  “Then here.” The king held out the sword. “Take it.”

  Viven went and, making what was the most primitive form of a bow, took the sword and returned to where the others were standing.

  The king cleared his throat and addressed everyone, the councillors especially.

  “So, I have decided to believe all of what Bufo says.” He paused once to see if any councillor was disagreeing—none were. He continued. “It seems Algrad Bezon had always remained our fast friend, and maybe it was ourselves who were faulty at taking Canniola’s word of him being a traitor. Anyway, we cannot change the past, can we? So, to undo our wrongdoing, we will assist Algrad’s grandson to rescue his niece from Mai Canniola. And since we have the powerful sword Navarion on our side now, we will wage a large scale attack on Canniola within a week’s time and free Tropagia from her vile shadow!”

  Agreement passed over the councillors and soldiers, all of whom apparently had intense hatred for the witch and wished nothing but her downfall and destruction.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Bufo said in a low voice, more to himself than the king. “Thank you.”

  “Do you think she will survive one extra week?” Manu asked Viven, his eyes that of a baby sheep watching its mother being chased by wolves at a distance.

  “She has to,” said Viven. He knew a week’s gap would lower Aunt Gina’s chances of survival under the nose of the witch, but since the Potion Makers would be helping, he was sure that their chances of rescuing her would also be much increased.

  Anyhow, he had never expected something of the kind that happened today to take place. The Potion Makers were their allies now, no longer savage to execute them, and besides, his grandfather’s name was cleared. He had been guilty, yes, but his actual intentions had been to help the Potion Makers. No one would be ever calling him a traitor again, thanks to Bufo. That was something good.