“Bezon’s grandson?” the king said, awe in each word. “But how do you know, Aremis?”
“He admitted it himself, Your Highness,” Aremis replied. “And besides, just look at him! He cannot not be Bezon’s grandson!”
Aremis pushed Viven into the midst of the councillors. He fell on his knees, his body aching from the beatings received from Aremis, the feeling of vulnerability overwhelming.
The councillors murmured agreement amongst themselves. Their stares, which were locked at his ears, one big, the other small, made the hair over his neck and hands stand.
He closed his eyes for a moment. He didn’t like this. Oh, he didn’t! They were in a mess, a stupid mess. Couldn’t all the troubles abandon them, just for once? Couldn't they get to the hill, retrieve the darned axe, destroy the sword, and leave the bloody forest for good?
They couldn’t.
The small voice inside his head made him feel all the more vulnerable.
The king’s loud voice brought Viven back to reality. “Lad, are you truly the grandson of Algrad Bezon?”
Why do I have to be Algrad’s grandson? Viven wondered stupidly.
“I am,” he replied in spite of himself.
The councillors gaped on both his right and left sides. When the king spoke, his stern eyes blazed with powerful victory.
“Then you must pay the cost of your ancestor’s treachery with your life!”
“But we didn’t do anything!” Aunt Gina protested. “We aren’t guilty. Why don’t you let us go?”
“No,” said the king. “You bear guilt. In fact, you inherited the guilt from your ancestor. No guilt can go unpunished, even if its actual committer dies.”
The councillors rejoiced, happy and loud at the unexpected revenge they had scored. The king encouraged the rejoicing by announcing their fate.
“Tomorrow evening, Bezon’s descendants will be executed and we shall avenge our dear king.”
The four of them, Viven, Aunt Gina, Manu, and Dirita, soon found themselves handcuffed and in shackles, their visions blinded by the folds put over their eyes. Their pleadings for mercy went ignored as even the guards who let them through the unseen passages of the palace expressed glee at them being caught.
“Finally, after so many years, our old king Brucus will receive justice,” the guards said.
***
When the blindfold was removed, Viven’s eyes met with what was a dungeon room, dimly lit with a magical light that had no source.
The guards left, locking the door from the outside.
“Oh no!” Aunt Gina burst into tears, unable to control herself. “What has happened! They’ll kill us!”
“I don’t know, Aunt. I don’t know,” said Viven, bitter. “I never thought it’d turn out like this.”
“You should have never come for us,” said Manu. “We could have gotten to you somehow then.”
“But how couldn’t we?” sobbed Aunt Gina. “You were lost, and all we cared about was finding you!”
Dirita squatted on the floor, grabbing her hair.
“Mr. Mekuri,” she whimpered. “He-he will never survive the forest.”
“He is better off than us,” Manu said, and shook his head in despair. “You should have never come for us,” he repeated to Viven and Aunt Gina. “The Potion Makers weren’t that bad toward us. In fact, we’d be dead by now if Bufo didn’t bring us here!”
“Well”—there was heavy sarcasm in Aunt Gina’s voice—“they will take our lives now for all the help they gave you.”
Viven hit his fist on the wall.
“It’s all my fault,” he said. “I could have lied and said I’ve never heard of Grandpa’s name before. It’s all my fault.” He could have saved everybody with a little lie, could have been a hero.
Aunt Gina disagreed, rather fiercely.
“My uncle didn’t do anything bad that you need to say you aren’t his grandson. All of them are liars. They are making stuff up. It’s all false!”
“Whatever,” he said, hoping Aunt Gina’s words were right, but also in a fix why people would accuse them for things without solid reason behind it. “But we have landed in a hopeless situation and have only a day to live. We need to get out of this mess; any ideas how?”
Before anybody opened their mouths to answer him, Viven knew there were no ideas, just none. Whether his foolishness caused everything or not, they would die now. Meela came to his mind as he stared at the stone slabs forming the dungeon wall, and he almost laughed. She was lost . . . or maybe he was.
***
Oh, Algrad, what have I done? What have I done?
Bufo the frog lord wept, his big tears draining little of the guilt that flooded him inside.
He had just done as per Aremis’ commands and taken them to the king! He could have trampled the scoundrel instead. Aremis had beaten Algrad’s grandson as if he were a dog. Oh, how he wished to twist those rude arms of Aremis.
But Bufo would never do a thing like that. He had sworn allegiance to the Potion Makers; he couldn’t betray them. Their will was his will, their cause his cause, but—
Algrad Bezon, what about him? Hadn’t he been a close friend?
The Potion Makers were nuts at believing him to be the murderer of King Brucus. There had never been any evidence of it. That Algrad was innocent Bufo was more than sure.
He couldn’t understand why the Potion Makers had taken Mai Canniola’s word that Algrad had been the traitor, how he had been her servant and had fooled their lame lot. However, were it so, why should Mai Canniola make her plot known to them? Was she so stupid?
No, it had been all a lie. A lie to trick the Potion Makers, and that lie would lead to the execution of Algrad’s descendants tomorrow.
But Bufo wouldn’t let such a wrong thing happen. Now that he came to think of it, he was the frog lord, and a lord always stood for truth. He might have sworn loyalty to the Potion Makers, but he would not succumb to their delusions. Instead, he would remove the veil from their eyes and make them see the truth. Yes, that would be far greater loyalty toward them then dancing to their mindless beat.
Besides, he had been the one who brought Algrad’s descendants to the Diamension, hadn’t he? Now that they were in the dungeons, only he himself was to blame. He had to undo his fault, save the blood of his old friend.
He would save them, whatever cost it might bring.
As Bufo looked at the tank on the table beside him and saw the respect gleaming from the eyes of the frogs in it, he finalised his decision.
***
Bufo’s Croak
A strange quietness had fallen over Viven and his three companions. Nobody was weeping over their fate. Dirita kept mumbling words under her breath, which sounded like “Mother” and “Father,” and Viven thought she was happy she would join them soon. Everyone’s face was tired and vacant as they waited for their execution hour.
Viven understood the quietness well, his own lips glued together, determined not to open again. He wasn’t trying to think out a solution to their situation, because he knew there were no solutions. Their fate was sealed. He stared at an ant moving about the floor. It kept moving toward Aunt, and when it reached her slippers, it changed direction. It went near Manu, who was playing with his fingers, pretending they were legs of a person and making them walk on the floor. The ant changed direction again, and Viven declared it was being very pointless.
Like our lives.
A curious sound echoed outside their cell, like a cannon fire, and not at the same time. It had the intensity but not the ear-throbbing quality.
A few minutes later, all the four occupants sprung to their feet in alarm as their cell door burst open, along with chunks of wall around it. The hulking figure of Bufo appeared, beaming and with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Bufo!”Viven said.
“Well, I had to come, right? Had to help you escape from here.”
“You will help us escape?” Manu said.
“Of c
ourse,” Bufo replied. “Algrad was my friend, and I can’t let his descendants die—and sorry. It was me who got you into all this trouble.”
“It’s okay,” Aunt Gina said, “since you’ve come to help.”
“Yeah,” said Viven. “But what about the guards and all?”
“Oh, I’ve taken care of them; every one of them is asleep for a whole day. Only tomorrow will they awake.”
“Asleep?” said Dirita. She looked almost turned down that they were going to escape.
“Well, I croaked,” said Bufo, his tone dignified.
“You croaked?” Aunt Gina asked.
“Yes, all frogs do, do they not? I croak too, but being their lord, I do it a mere once a year, and sometimes not even that. My croak is magical, and I can make anyone I wish fall into an enchanted sleep by using it.”
“So,” said Viven, “we are the only ones in this place who aren’t asleep?”
“Absolutely,” said Bufo. “Now let’s get you out of here; come with me.”
All the guards outside were either down on the floor or slouched against the walls, their loud snores the prominent noise in the dungeon corridors, their limp bodies littered here and there.
Around ten minutes later, Viven and the others came to a spiral stone staircase leading upward. Viven recalled descending it when the guards had first brought them to the dungeon, although it was the first time he was seeing it, since he had been blindfolded before.
Climbing the staircase, they emerged in open, unrestricted air. Not a long distance away, a magnificent castle towered, alongside a number of small but beautiful homes clustered together. However, despite the beauty of the scenery, there was an artificial feel about the place that clung to Viven, refusing to wear off.
Viven realised what was causing it as he looked up at the sky—it wasn't real. What’s more, there was no sun at all! The blue sky, which seemed finite, was the source of all the light available. They were in a peculiar place, indeed.
“We are inside the hut, right?” he asked Bufo.
“Yes,” Bufo replied. “The hut is a portal to this Diamension—a complete world in itself, although a grain of sand if compared to the size of the real one.”
“Did the Potion Makers make this by themselves?” Aunt Gina said.
“Not really. Most of it was pre-existent, including the castle you see there. Their ancestors are said to have discovered this place.”
After they had gazed at their surroundings a couple more minutes—which appeared finite in all directions and there was not a single tree anywhere—Bufo spoke up.
“Come, we need to get to the castle. There is a portal there, which is the only way out of this Diamension.”
In a short while, they reached the castle’s tall ajar gates. Here, too, they saw guards and people lying on the ground, snoring.
They followed Bufo through a few corridors until arriving in the throne room. It was vacant of people. The king’s throne lay empty.
“Well, now I need to open the Connector,” said Bufo, and he moved to a large statue of a man who had his mouth wide open.
Bufo pulled at the statue’s ponytail, which was made of realistic hair-like material and not of stone.
A conical blue light projected from the man’s mouth across the room to where the four of them were standing.
“Walk into it,” Bufo said. They did so, and suddenly the throne room had faded away and they were in the alit void Viven had earlier experienced.
Following it, they found themselves back in the Tropagian forest, standing in front of the small hut.
“Ouch!” said Dirita, as Bufo appeared beside her moments later, nearly knocking her down.
“Oops, sorry!” Bufo apologised.
But Dirita wasn’t caring; she ran to the rim of the clearing and shouted,” Mr. Mekuri! Mr. Mekuri! Where are you? Come back, kitty, come back here! Mr. Mekuri!”
“Mr. Mekuri?” said Bufo, confused. “Is she calling that cat of hers?”
“Yes,” said Manu. “And I think she will be real sad if she doesn’t find him.”
And so, the next half an hour went in a mad search for Mr. Mekuri around the hut’s clearing. It went in vain. Dirita’s grief was untold.
“I don’t think your cat will ever be found, girl,” said Bufo, pitying Dirita. “This is the Tropagian forest. Your cat’s gone.”
“B-but he’s the only one I-I have got!”Dirita said in between sobs. Viven sighed; Dirita’s whole family had been murdered by her evil brute of an uncle, and now her cat was probably being digested in some predator’s stomach. No wonder she seemed looking forward to the execution.
Anyhow, they couldn’t go about searching for Mr. Mekuri the entire day, so Viven had to decide upon a plan, to calm Dirita. Plus he wanted to make up, even if a little, for getting them imprisoned in the Diamension.
“Dirita,” he said, holding the other’s hunched shoulders. “Look, I think Mr. Mekuri is safe wherever he is, but this forest is too big for us to search him out. Now see, I have a plan to find your cat, you hear it? I have a plan!”
Dirita looked up at him, her glistening eyes containing little hope.
“A plan?” she asked in a squeaky voice.
“Yes, Dirita, a plan!” said Viven, trying to be bright. “See, if we can retrieve the axe from the hill and destroy the sword within today, then we can summon Sezia. She knows magic, so there is every chance she can find Mr. Mekuri by using her powers.”
“Yeah, he’s right,” Aunt Gina added, supportive of Viven’s plan. “It’s sure to work.”
After much solace, Dirita agreed.
“But who’s this Sezia?” Bufo asked.
Viven explained to him about Sezia, the spirit of the old woman they had met back in the prison. However, at the mention of the axe Acario that Sezia had said was the only weapon that could destroy the sword, Bufo’s huge face contorted into a startled expression.
“The axe Acario!” he exclaimed. “But it had belonged to the Potion Makers!”
“Had belonged to the Potion Makers?” Viven repeated, surprised.
“Yes, it was stolen many years ago!”
“What?” said Viven, digesting the fact with difficulty. “Well, you can take it and return it to the Potion Makers once we destroy the sword with it.”
Bufo thought over it for some time, and then nodded.
“Um, okay,” he said. “That could be done. And that would be for the better good, as your family can rise in the eyes of the Potion Makers by returning them their long lost axe. But this is the first time I am hearing about this sword called Navarion. You say Algrad had told this Sezia it rests in the temple of Brene, eh?”
Viven nodded.
“But,” Bufo continued, “the temple has no known entrance. Not a single of the many who have tried has succeeded in breaking into it to see what exactly is inside. There are rumours it has got untold amounts of gold.”
“No entrance?” said Viven. “Then how will we enter it?”
“Maybe we’ll find a way once we reach the temple,” said Aunt Gina.
“Yeah,” Bufo said. “We can but hope for that. Must agree though, your grandfather had brains. He uncovered more Tropagian secrets than all of us combined. Only wish everything hadn’t ended so badly, you know, instead of him having to bear the name of a murderer—and hey!”Bufo seemed to have remembered something important. “The hill where you say Acario is falls in Mai Canniola’s territory. Both Potion Makers and the Macacawks suspect that the Dwarfy Dwarf castle, the abode of the wicked witch, is located around that place, hidden by the cloak of black magic. You two”—he gestured toward Viven and Aunt Gina—“you are darned fortunate Mai Canniola didn’t get the scent of you wandering into her territory.”
Everyone present gaped hearing Bufo’s words.
***
The ride to the axe hill was rougher than the ride to the Diamension had been; the reason being the extra weight of Manu and Dirita, so that all four of them struggled
to stick onto Bufo’s back.
Bufo made his final touchdown a short distance away from the hill, just near the place from which he had earlier taken them. Viven was happy to see their old stream again; it gave him a sense of hope and security, though he wasn’t sure if they were secure in that area.
“It would save us time if I hopped straight to the top of the hill,” said the frog lord. “However, there are prying eyes everywhere, and I don’t think it would be useful if Mai Canniola spots me hopping about atop her head.”
Reaching the hill, they began the ascent.
That was when the problem started—
Bufo was disastrous at climbing. He simply was not built for that sort of thing. His short forelimbs provided no help for balancing his weight in the near vertical slope, and thrice did he lose his footing and tumble. Hence, they made very slow progress.
“There!” said Aunt Gina in glee after hours when they were halfway up, her finger toward a big river that had suddenly come into view, now that they were at a height taller than any tree in the forest. Viven spotted a pyramidal structure along its bank, and he at once knew what it was.
“That’s the temple of Brene, right?”
“Ye . . . yes,” said Bufo as he inhaled mouthfuls of air. “It’s the . . . the temple of Brene.”
“That seems a long way,” said Manu, and he was more than correct—the river and the temple both were far away. It was contrast to Sezia’s words, which she had made to sound like the temple was at a stone’s throw from the hill. But she couldn’t be blamed for that: she hadn’t ever visited the Tropagian forest to know anything in exact detail.
They continued in their climb. By now, the humans felt its effects too, their leg muscles becoming leady with every next step they took.
It was an age later that they reached the cave at the top of the hill.
Wearied out, they rested at the cave’s entrance for a handful of minutes to regain their strength and energy, which felt as though all was depleted.
“Okay,” Bufo said after sometime. “Let’s get Acario.”
The group entered the cave. There was little light available inside, allowing them to navigate through it. They treaded unhurriedly, unable to shake off caution due to the dark. It was then they discovered something that stupefied their nerves.
The Sword of Tropagia Page 10