The Mighty Frog

by Guy Bass

  Frog, too, peered out. They had plunged back into the darkness of a ruined Kingdomland, but in the gloom he could make out a vast cliff face, jagged and unwelcoming, plunging into an icy ocean.

  Man-Lor set the blue house down atop the cliff and the occupants of the Omnium Gatherum made their way outside.

  “How do we know if the bragons hearded your teeny-weeny trumpet toot?” asked Princess Rainbow, peering up into the blackened sky. “How do we know if they’re coming?’

  “Look up, by gosh,” replied Nigel, staring at his pie as if it was his worst enemy. “And remember to cover your ears.”

  The Gathering of Bragons

  Dozens of winged shapes emerged from the darkened sky, swooping and circling around the blue house. In moments, Frog and his friends were surrounded by bragons of all different colours, shapes and sizes. They plunged through the air to land on the clifftop.

  “I still say we’re wasting our time, by gosh,” whispered Nigel, clutching his pie.

  All forty-eight bragons glanced uneasily at each other, no one daring to speak. At last one of their number stepped forward. He stroked a long white beard and beat his silver wings dramatically.

  “Good day to you, inferiors! It has been a long time since any of you have been intimidated by my eminence!” he boomed. “Who here committed the deed? Who blew their summoning horn?”

  “Not I!” bellowed a smaller bragon, spreading her four wings to reveal a dazzling array of blue feathers. “I am far too wondrous and sure-footed to need help from any of you!”

  “Nor I!” boomed another. “I have done my best to avoid you all, lest my handsomeness make you weep with jealousy!”

  “What is that glorious fragrance?” cried a third. “Why it’s me, smelling better than all of you!”

  “Pray silence for the Regent of the Remarkable!”

  “Behold, the Duchess of the Undaunted!”

  “Call me Lord Quentin the Insurmountable!”

  Soon, their booming boasts were so loud that the cliffs began to crack and crumble.

  Frog drew his mighty sword.

  “Bragons!” he shouted at the top of his voice, Basil Rathbone flashing in the moonlight. “I am The Mighty Frog, skilled-up champion and— Hey! Shut up your faces! This is important stuff!”

  But not even Princess Rainbow, who was standing right next to him, could hear Frog’s cries.

  “Hush! Bad braggins!” she squealed, putting her fingers in her ears at the sound of the bragons’ boasts.

  “They’ll be filled up and flying off before you have a chance to be heard!” Kryl yelled, watching the bragons inflate. “We need to get their attention!”

  “Should I blow something up? That usually helps!” shouted Frog, drawing his sunder-gun.

  “No!” said Nigel. “There is only one way to stop a bragon bragging!”

  “What did you say?” hollered Frog.

  “I said, there’s only one way to stop a bragon… Never mind!” Nigel yelled. He strode towards the boasting beasts until he was directly in front of the old, silver bragon. “I’d rather hoped it wouldn’t come to this, by gosh,” he added with a sigh. Then he took a deep breath … and held out his pie. Suddenly, the bragons fell silent.

  “What the … what?” muttered Frog.

  “Is … is that what I think it is?” the silver bragon whispered at last.

  “It’s humble pie!” cried the blue-feathered bragon. “Don’t—!”

  But it was too late. Nigel closed his eyes, and shoved the pie into his mouth.

  A gasp rang out from the bragons as they watched Nigel swallow the pie whole. There was a long moment of horrified anticipation, and then Nigel slowly opened his eyes. He looked down, patted his belly and breathed a long sigh of relief.

  “You … you ate humble pie!” muttered the silver bragon. “Why didn’t you shrivel up like a raisin-berry?”

  “What’s ‘humble pie’?” asked Frog.

  “It’s a bragon legend, by golly,” explained the blue-feathered bragon. “It is said that if one bragon eats humble pie in front of another, he will shrivel and wither, never to inflate – never to fly – again! It is the most lowering thing a bragon can do.”

  “I never had reason to test the theory until now,” said Nigel, picking pie out of his teeth. “But I knew it would be the only way to stop the bragons from boasting. It’s funny what impending doom does to you, by gosh…”

  “Baa,” bleated Sheriff Explosion.

  “Yoiks! Thanks, Nigel, that was risky business,” said Frog. “I knew I made the right choice making you second-best-in command.”

  “I’m second!” cried the Princess. “I mean first! First!”

  The Bragon Army

  Having witnessed Nigel eat the humble pie all just to get their attention, the bragons became uncharacteristically modest – and thoroughly likeable. They reintroduced themselves using their real names and shared tea with acquaintances old and new (several of them having brought their own teapots along).

  “Shall I pour?”

  “You do it so well!”

  “But your pouring is peerless!”

  “No, yours!”

  Before long, everyone had a cup of tea, Princess Rainbow was showing off her shrunken parents, and Frog was trying to work out who might make the best warriors in his army.

  Frog put away his diary as the old, silver-bearded bragon known as Old ’n’ Graham hobbled forward.

  “Nigel, for your willingness to wither like a lemon-lime left out in the sun, we, the bragons, most wondrous of all the creatures of Kingdomland – well, you know the rest – will hear your plea. So, tell us, why did you blow your horn and summon us?”

  “I’m not sure where to start, truth be told,” confessed Nigel. “I don’t need to tell you that the whole world is ending…”

  “I noticed that,” replied Susan. “I remember looking outside and seeing the scorched earth and blackened sky and thinking, something’s a little bit different today, and I couldn’t quite put my claw on it, and then I thought, oh, don’t overthink everything, Susan, you worry too much, and then I had a cup of tea and a dunky biscuit, and then I thought, I know what’s different, by golly! The whole world is ending.”

  “I find everything is clearer with a nice cup of tea, by gosh,” said Nigel, with a smile.

  “Isn’t it?” agreed Susan, blushing a deep blue. “Sometimes I think if I didn’t have tea it would be the absolute end of the—You know.”

  “Perhaps after all this you and I could share a pot or two,” said Nigel, adjusting his spectacles. “I mean, that is, if you’d like to—”

  “Um, could we giddy this up a bit?” said Frog impatiently. “End of the World and all that…”

  “Quite so – we should probably return to what we were doing before Nigel summoned us,” Old ’n’ Graham declared. “That is to say, hiding away with a nice cup of tea until all this blows over.”

  “‘Blows over’?” interjected Frog. “Things are not going to blow over! They’re going to blow up!”

  “How awful,” said Old ’n’ Graham. “It sounds like you need an army.”

  “You are the army!” Frog growled. “That’s why we did the summoning! You’re going to help us fight King Kroak.”

  “We, an army? Out of the question!” declared Old ’n’ Graham. “Bragons fly, we do not fight. And we are cowards! Cowards with hollow boasts! Army indeed!” He turned to the bragons and spread his wings. “Bragons! We have been brought here under false pretences! This reunion is over.”

  “I told you this wouldn’t work, by gosh,” whispered Nigel, as the bragons prepared to leave.

  “Baa,” agreed Sheriff Explosion.

  “It has to work,” insisted Frog. “The bragons just need a motivating-leader speech from their top army leader and first-in-commanding general! Watch and learn. I’ll—”

  “No fair, you get to do all the speeching,” complained Princess Rainbow. “I’m a princess so I do speechin
g all the time at home. I’ve speeched to my pets lots and they like it. They always go ‘tweet!’, ‘meow!’ and things.”

  “Pfff – it’s not as easy as it looks,” grumbled Frog. “It needs to be at least a million per cent inspirational.”

  “Silly Greeny,” said the princess. She turned to the bragons and cleared her throat loudly.

  “Hello, braggins, I am Princess Rainbow and I am a princess and I have three hundred and eleven – no, wait – three hundred and twelve dresses – and I like diamond puppies and newnicorns and strawbleflower cakes and my favourite colours are pink and another kind of pink and light blue not dark blue and my favourite smell is—”

  “BRAGONS!” interrupted Frog, loudly. “What my fourth-in-command deputy is trying to say, is that we are about to face an enemy of such extreme badness that unless we defeat him, there won’t be any place to hide and there won’t be any tea to drink because this whole world will have been exploded into a million dusty pieces. But you can help us defeat King Kroak! We’ll defeat him to bits, and when we do you’ll all be given medals and champion badges and proper names like Baron Bopchops and Captain Smashbattle, and you’ll have all the tea you can drink and heaps of people to listen to your braggings! And all you have to do is help me stop the badness! All you have to do is save your world! All you have to do is make a stand! All you have to do is fight! Who’s with me?”

  There was a long, awkward silence. The wind whistled around the cliffs. Then more silence.

  “Anyone…?” he muttered.

  “I will, by golly!” said a voice at last. Susan stepped out of the throng.

  “As will I,” declared another bragon, taking a stride towards them.

  “And I!” said another.

  Before long, forty-seven bragons had stepped forward. Only Old ’n’ Graham remained.

  “I knew I should have ignored that blasted horn,” he huffed and took a single step forward. “Very well … you have your army, Frog.”

  The bragons spread their wings and cheered in unison.

  “My speech was still betterer…” tutted the princess.

  As the newly formed army chanted his name, Frog grinned widely. Tomorrow he would defeat King Kroak, once and for all. He couldn’t wait. He was The Mighty Frog, and nothing could stand in his way.

  That night, Frog slept more soundly than ever.

  The Inevitable Victory of Prince Krog

  Krog replaced the top on his sunder-pen and closed his book. “Now for Chapter Two.”

  “What are you writing now, O Prince?” said a voice. From the throne in his royal traceship, Krog saw the hulking shape of General Kurg walking down the stairs towards him.

  “It’s a diary,” he replied. “So my dad can see all the skilled-up conquering and world-ending I’m doing.”

  “By the Inevitable Victory! How could King Kroak be anything other than proud of you, Your Majesty?” cried General Kurg, placing a massive hand upon Krog’s shoulder. “From the first wave to the second, you’ve been a consummate conqueror. You’ve scorched the earth, blackened the skies – total catastrophe!”

  “Yep! No doubts on toast – I conquered this world to pieces,” said Krog. He rubbed the back of his head. “I wonder how the other nine hundred and ninety-nine princes are doing with their worlds…”

  “By the Right to Smite! I almost forgot – I rounded up the last of the native rebels so they can cower at your feet. Would you like the pleasure of brain-slaving them?”

  “We did that yesterday – and the day before,” said Krog. Then he hopped down from his throne with glee. “Let’s do it again!”

  Krog quickly adjusted his shiny black crown and cape, and raced out of the traceship. He emerged in the devastated remains of a once glorious palace of Kingdomland. Above him, the sky churned with black clouds and the comforting sounds of explosions could be heard from far and wide. In the centre of the courtyard, Kroakan troopers had surrounded a handful of kneeling prisoners.

  “Yoiks, what’s that smell? Oh, I know, it’s the stink of defeat – and you all reek of it!” declared Krog, as he surveyed the rebels.

  There was Princess Rainbow, daughter of the slain King and Queen of Kingdomland, her guardian, Man-Lor the barbarian, a crimson-scaled bragon by the name of Nigel, and a grubby-looking sheep.

  Krog held out his hand and General Kurg passed him a handful of slave-nodes. “So, do you have anything to say before I void your brain space and load it up with slave juice?”

  “You’re a silly stupid-head and I hate you!” snapped Princess Rainbow. “You killed my mummy and daddy!”

  “Actually, I just ordered them to be killed,” Krog replied. “When you’re a top prince like I am, conquering is mostly delegating. Mostly…”

  Prince Krog threw one of the nodes, which stuck fast to the princess’s forehead. Her eyes grew wide … and a moment later they turned inky black.

  “Hail, Kroak,” she said.

  “Ka-SLAVE!” cried Prince Krog.

  “Man-Lor begs for mercy,” said the barbarian. “I am Man-Lor.”

  “Please spare me, by gosh!” added the winged creature.

  “Woof!” said the sheep.

  “Too late!” said Krog, throwing slave-nodes at each of their foreheads. Then he noticed a fifth prisoner, kneeling in the shadows. He was wearing a long black cloak, and his head was covered with a hood.

  “It’s slave o’clock, you rebel stink,” Krog snarled. “Any last words?”

  “Since you ask, yes,” replied the hooded figure. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Begging won’t save— Wait, what?” blurted Krog.

  “I said I’m proud of you!” said the figure, getting to his feet. Then he reached up and lowered his hood.

  Krog’s own face peered back at him.

  “This is my kind of conquering!” said the figure.

  Krog pressed his fingers to his temples. “What’s going on?” he cried. “What… This isn’t right… I’m supposed to… Oh bumdrops! Bumdrops to the moon times a million! I’m dreaming! This is all UNSLUMBER!”

  “Well, obviously,” sneered the figure. “I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to work it out.”

  “I’m not Krog, I’m Frog … Frog!” roared Frog, hammering the sides of his head with his fists. Then he looked up at the figure, his own face staring back at him. “And you’re King Kroak!”

  “What do you want, a prize? You should really be on top of this dream stuff by now,” chuckled King Kroak. He pulled a black crown out of his cape and put it on his head. “I have to admit, though, all this does seem very real. I mean, look at you! Prince Krog, the mighty Kroakan prince, merciless conqueror of Kingdomland … just like you’ve always wanted.”

  “This isn’t what I want!” Frog blurted. “I don’t want to be a conquering anything and I don’t want to be Prince Krog!”

  “Are you sure?” scoffed King Kroak. “Look around, Frog … this is what you long for, even if you won’t admit it. This is the world of your dreams.”

  Frog was about to speak, but for the first time in his life, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He could see the prisoners, their minds enslaved, feel the heat from the scorched earth, smell the smoke from the blackened skies. It was as vivid as anything in the real world, and something about it felt … right.

  Finally, he said, “You told me I was different … from your other sons. What did you mean? How am I—”

  WHiiiiiiSHT – SHUNK!

  “What the … whAAAH!” Frog cried, glancing at King Kroak. The King had an arrow sticking out of his forehead.

  “Ow,” said King Kroak, giving the arrow a prod. “Looks like someone’s trying to interrupt our UnSlumber party.”

  Frog followed the arrow’s path to the top of a ruined tower. There stood Kryl, already drawing another arrow.

  “Wake up, Frog!” she cried. “Your dreams have no hold over you! Don’t let the King’s lies poison you!”

  “Lies?” howled King Kroak. �
�That’s rich coming from you, Keeper! You’ve done nothing but lie to Frog since the day he hatched!”

  Kryl said nothing. She unleashed another arrow, but this time King Kroak caught it in mid-flight, inches from his face. He glowered at the nearby Kroakan troopers.

  “Has anyone noticed the traitor shooting arrows at the King?” he said. “Kill her!”

  The troopers unleashed a volley of sunder-beams, destroying the tower and sending Kryl flying through the air. She landed hard on the ground, her arrows scattering in all directions.

  “Kryl!” Frog yelled – but King Kroak was already looming over her. He wrapped his fingers around her throat and hoisted her effortlessly into the air.

  “I know what you’re trying to do, Keeper,” he began, squeezing her throat. “You think if you destroy me in the UnSlumber, I’ll end up with my brain all stunk up in the real world. Arrow to the head and it’s all over, am I right?”

  “Wake … up … Frog…” Kryl wheezed.

  “Stop…!” cried Frog. He raced towards King Kroak, but his limbs were slow and heavy, like he was moving through turnip soup.

  “But there’s one thing you didn’t count on – I’m the mightiest of the mighty by a million. And do you know why?” King Kroak tugged the arrow out of his head. “BECAUSE I’M KING KROAK, STUPID!”

  With that, he thrust the arrow into Kryl’s chest. She gasped, once, and fell limp. King Kroak turned to Frog and winked.

  “See you soon, son.”

  Frog was frozen to the spot. All he could do was cry out, “NOOOOOOOO—”

  The Flight of Bragons

  “—OOoOoo!”

  Frog woke with such a start that he hopped to his feet. He was in the blue house, the smell of Nigel’s freshly brewed pot of tea filling his nostrils. Princess Rainbow was making her shrunken parents ride Sheriff Explosion around the front room.

  “Morning, sunshine!” said Nigel, pouring him a cup of tea. “You’ve been asleep for hours, by gosh – that marvellous speech must have taken it out of you.”