Part Two: Heroes’ Trial
Chapter Eleven: The Passing of Frogfucious
The sun was slowly sinking far beyond the Moleville mountains by the time Mario and his downtrodden friends had reached the divide between the Bandit Way Crossroads and the winding dirt path that led to the Midas Mountain trail. A westering glimmer remained despite the somber mood, sprinkling a meager bit of hope across a barren land of anxious fear. Some unknown evil waited in the shadows of the darkening forests far down in the delving deep, now below them in the form of a wide valley spread out before their eyes to the near north.
Though much greater trials of courage and devotion awaited them, the chief decision weighing on each of their minds was whether to take the longer, less troublesome path that meandered comfortably down the Midas Mountain or to enter the forbidden Kero Sewers through the warp pipe on the summit, an ill-named labyrinth of rat-infested stone archways and damp gullies haunted by corrupted Boos.
“What then awaitz us in the dark places of your kingdom?” Razan asked suddenly, breaking a moody silence at what Toad considered to be the worst possible moment. It did not help that the diminutive Mushroomer had already pledged to himself that their new-found friend was not to be trusted until he was found to pass a more suitable test than sheer courage or skill in battle.
“Nothing good, if you take my meaning,” Toad said hurriedly, a short bluster of a snort backing up his words. “The word Kero was derived from its ancient etymological link, meaning ‘terrible’ or ‘frightful’, and that’s proof enough for me that we need to head down the Midas Mountain Trail instead.” The Mushroomer took the princess’ hand in his and looked into her eyes pleadingly. “Please, my lady, wouldn’t it be nicer to hear the wonderful songs of the Midas Waterfall while we walk? If Mario and Luigi’s stories are true, which I’m sure they are, then those underground places are certainly not where we want to be, especially in light of recent events!”
“I would agree with you, Toad,” Luigi said, unintentionally turning the Mushroomer’s sudden smile into a frown. “But we have to take into account the dangers of being caught by the enemy while still above ground. They will have a much more difficult time locating us in the sewers, perilous though they may be, and even if they do decide to follow our tracks, we’ll have a better chance of outmaneuvering them in the lightless realm of Kero.”
But even as Luigi spoke these bittersweet words, Toad’s face was cast further down into a hopeless hunch. His shoulders were bent, as if wearied by the weight of some unappeasable burden. “But what does our leader have to say on the subject?” Luigi asked, looking behind him to watch as Mario gazed peacefully out over the open black sky and its wide berth of stars.
“Mario?” the princess called. “Where shall we go from here?”
“We will do as Luigi says and travel through the Kero Sewers,” Mario said after careful deliberation. He let out a tired sigh and leaned heavily on an outcropping of rock. “I don’t know why, but ever since I was injured by that fiend in the forests, my recovered strength has been steadily sapped by some outside force. I feel weak,” he explained, “thin. It’s hard to put in words.”
“Thiz one shall follow the directions of Mario the Legend no matter where they may lead,” Razan said proudly. “You have the aid of the Reznoth, my friend, whether it be through the clouds above or even the very depths of the Inferno.”
“Do not speak that word so loudly,” Peach cautioned, reeling slightly as if coming off of a particularly violent headache. “There is no wondering who might be listening.”
Luigi spared a passing glance at his brother, who could only shake his head helplessly in reply. Mario was the first to slide down the narrow green warp pipe that jutted out of the ground before them in a wide circle of light dirt. Slowly, ever so carefully, the rest of them followed.
~*~*~*~
Raul’s unveiled glower was hideous, like the grafted patchwork of some demon’s harvest. Now as he stood beside his master’s most recent convert, Ian’s mind became troubled with fears of losing his trusted place to the massive carrion of a Koopa King. “My Lord, our own men and women have spread themselves throughout the world, already in the midst of affixing their places to your will. The remainder of the Koopalings, sans the ones called Lemmy and Ludwiggy, have taken their Airships and armies to the positions you have set for them. Any remaining troops have been readied for battle and placed under the command of General Jagger.”
“Good,” Raul muttered, and again he whispered, “Good.”
“Of the fleet, sir,” Ian continued, “Admiral Jade has chosen to stay aboard her own ship, the Adamant, which, as you know, leaves the newly constructed Leviathan without a commander.”
Through his peripheral vision, Ian noticed a subtle change in pulse of the massive reptile mutant that stood beside him. Something had clicked emotionally, past even the spiritual death that had been brought on by Raul. “Were you not trained as a commanding officer in our homeland’s navy before you joined our Cause, Ian?”
“Well, that is true, sir,” he admitted, “but I…”
“Then you have no excuse. Until such time that I deem it unnecessary, the ship Leviathan is under your direct command, though by virtue, I am forced at this point in our plan to allow full control of the castle’s fleet to Admiral Jade. Still, we both know who holds whose favor, yes?”
Ian nodded uncomfortably and bowed, throwing his cape back as he turned to leave. When the great doors of the throne room slammed shut behind him, he was glad that any further incident had not been allowed to take place while in the presence of Raul’s new puppet. In time, though, perhaps even he would see the need for keeping Bowser’s body functional.
At first, when he had witnessed the meeting with Bower’s children a couple of days ago, he supposed Raul’s decision was useful for keeping the Koopalings’ suspicions at bay, but it was obvious that the one called Lemmy had seen past his Master’s ruse. Ian doubted that the others were any less keen on the truth of things. “I should be patient,” he reminded himself shortly, and patient he was.
The wooden double doors of the castle’s throne room closed shut at last, rendering an unspeakable silence that bolstered the kindled flicker of torchlight. “My servant Bowser, your progression in the knowledge of our people has been swift and satisfactory. You will soon prove to be among the most powerful of us all.”
“I seek not rank, Master, but only to be at your side and to bring about the completion of our Cause. I have not tired in the learning of script and verse, yet I feel I must serve you in the battlefield. Tell me where I am needed so I may go and honor you there.”
“Your blood boils at the mention of the name Mario even after your transfiguration, and that would worry me, save for the necessity in killing him that has arisen. He is far too righteous, too blindly pure of heart to serve in our Cause as you do, yet his strength and obstinacy will only hinder our proceedings. The time will come when his will plays against my own, and at that all-important moment, you will be the one to answer his challenge. I have foreseen it, and so it will be.”
“Your words give me only comfort and pride, my Lord. Is there anything else you desire of me in the meanwhile?”
“Only that your faith in my promise remains steadfast. Go now; leave me to my ponderings. Enlist yourself in General Jagger’s trust for the time being and aid in the march on the Mushroom Village.”
Bowser bowed deeply, almost to the ground, and then hastened out. The great doors creaked close one last time before Raul was allowed peace. Brimming with self-confidence and the exaltation of a new order, he sank deeply into thought, perfect and pristine with the bliss of delusion.
~*~*~*~
Crazykoopa, a loyal friend of the Royal Mushroom Court, stood despondently with his shoulders hunched, eyes staring out of a large window into a cloudy, mid-afternoon gloom. His long-time acquaintance Blue Boo floated not three feet away, ghostly arms crossed and deep blue hat sagging in a weary sort of placidity. It had been almost three days since the Princess Peach vanished from the castle, leaving only torn clothes and a window whose shutters had been violently cast aside. The plush velvet carpet near her bedroom’s entrance had been burnt and blackened, and now there was only a deep hole that leveled off in stone, spattered with crimson stains of blood. Worse yet, the quaint cottage that the Mario Brothers called home had been razed sometime during that same fateful night, only a faint reminder of the two legendary siblings and their good-natured heroics.
The Chancellor of the Mushroom Kingdom brought a heavy gavel hard against a stately podium that rested in front of him. Immediately, all one-hundred of the specially invited guests, mostly made up of military officers and any diplomats that happened to be staying in the village, turned to face him. After a careful adjustment of his chained spectacles, he cleared his throat with a raspy cough and began.
“Alas that these dark days should fall upon me rather than the poor Princess Peach, whose wisdom and good will exceeded all others. We shall dearly miss her, and if circumstances of late were not so morbidly grim, then perhaps a more suitable period of mourning could be allowed. As it lies, we shall have to make due with this brief mention of her long-lasting dedication and service to our Kingdom. May her spirit find its way to the royal halls of her father in Star Haven, where peace and harmony shall remain evermore. Rest deep,” he said gently as his eyes welled in restrained sorrow. “And even so, let us come quickly.
“As to the fate of the Mario Brothers, I do not yet wish to lose faith in their chances of survival. Hopefully they escaped the burning and chased after the despicable devil that took the life of our beloved princess. If by the end of the coming strife they have not returned, a mass of the dead such as that which has never taken place will come to need. In three short strokes we shall have lost our leader, our heroes, and our people. Now though is not the time to grieve, as surely none of our missing friends would approve. Come, General Spore, and relate to us the ill news that waits upon our very doorstep.”
A proud, stout Mushroomer donning all the regalia of an experienced war veteran ascended the short flight of stairs to the throne and speaker’s podium. With a swift snap of his hand and a barely noticeable ruffle of his predominant mustache, the inspiring little figure’s voice rang low throughout the crowd, rough and gray as a storm and thunder. “Such are the times when I must impart this horrific information. Thank you Chancellor; your words will be remembered by us all and for many generations to come.
“Now then,” he said and coughed lightly into a fist. “My fellow Mushroomers, Koopas, Boos, Yoshis, Moles, and Nimbians, we have before us a decision of monumental importance. Beyond all chance, the combined forces of Bowser’s children seem to have rejoined with their father’s remnant, creating an army of woe and torment hitherto unseen by even the oldest of our living elders. Swift and deadly, a fleet of airships and an infantry more than ten times our strength now directs itself at our core of function like a poison-tipped spearhead. Even with the aid of those non-military, our efforts will surely be in vain if we attack them head on.
“I would say that our best chance lies in retreating indefinitely, traveling through our lands to rally the support of other towns and cities, and in a way it does. But it is also evident that in doing so we shall have to relinquish control of our mighty capital, delivering an all important source of courage and victory to the enemy. Unless we come up with some solution, it would seem that our plight is truly hopeless without the mitigation of the Mario Brothers.
“And now I say to you finally: think hard, but do not think long on this matter. The time that we have to ready our own forces if you do decide to make a last stand here is short, and that’s giving it more credit than is due. In the interim, I shall take what steps are necessary to both possible arrangements of the coming conclave. Choose well, and may the Stars protect us.”
As the room alit into a raging sea of angry discourse and shocked mutterings, Crazykoopa shuffled close to his transparent friend. Blue Boo turned and shakily tipped his body forward in an awkward expression of acknowledgement. “You have traveled far, my friend. It is a long distance, even on air, from Lady Bow’s mansion. I am surprised you made it in even the fullness of two days.”
“Your doubt in my skill is understandable,” Blue Boo said humorlessly. “Yet when the need arises, I am here. What do you think our chances are?”
“I try not to think of our chances, for it is then that sorrow pushes my resolve all the stronger. Instead I hope that the Mario Brothers will return to drive back the vile Koopas, no offense to myself, of course. You, withal, will endure no matter what the outcome.”
“This is true,” Blue Boo said wryly. “Even so, I still fear the very real possibility of losing my consciousness. If that happens, I shall become corrupted, and so worse than dead, doomed to forever haunt the halls of some lonely house, mindless and craven.”
“To tell you the truth,” Crazykoopa said in a low whisper, leaning his voice in closer to the Boo, “I have a feeling that something more than a Royal Koopa Reunion is at the heart of our troubles. Come now, who among them could single-handedly defeat the Mario Brothers in battle? There is some other force at work, and its identity may be darker than we wish to know.”
Blue Boo hovered quietly for a moment, his eyes trained ahead and dimmed as if searching for something elusive; instead, the crafty ghoul was simply eavesdropping. “It has been little more than five minutes, and already the normally argumentative politicians seem to have reached an agreement. They find the chance of retreat more favorable, as I expected. The advisors hold much power, but they are cowards in the face of war.”
After another twenty minutes of what was most likely mock concern for careful decision, the group of advisors rose from their lavish chairs and strode pompously over to intercept a liaison for General Spore. “Then it is decided,” Crazykoopa said and began to gather a pair of twin sabers that lay in a near corner. He twirled them around deftly and locked them in place inside of his shell.
“Do you have a plan, then?” Blue Boo inquired expectantly, his smile crooked and devious.
“You know me too well, my friend,” Crazykoopa chided. “However, I was going to ask you to come along anyway. I have a feeling your help will prove invaluable.”
“My help in what?” Blue Boo persisted. “Speak plainly!”
Crazykoopa turned once more to peer out of the open window. In the distance, the setting sun was falling into an ominous haze, blood-red and casting black shadows across everything its bright gleaming rays fell on. The glimmer of the darkling ocean rolled its contents under the shadow of a swelling storm, deep and terrible as an endless line of graves set upon hills that rose and descended as far as the eye could see. “Sarasaland will come to our aid if they hear our plight, but if we wait until the threat reaches them by natural course, it may be too late.”
The determined Koopa turned lightly on his feet, coming to face his friend, who was now unwavering in accord. With time, he donned the rest of his protective armor, the shining steel of a Terrapin; finally, he placed a spiked helm upon his head. It flashed like fire under the reaching shafts of light from the west. “I know someone we can borrow a ship from. With any luck, he’ll find it noble to join us.”
“I hope this ends well,” Blue Boo said and straightened his hat.
~*~*~*~
Gathering darkness rushed up over their heads, blanketing the sparse remainder of sunlight that shone down from the sewer’s entrance. Every step the band of intrepid travelers took plunged them deeper and deeper into the uncharted abyss, a swamp of heavy, dank air that closed in around them. By the guide of the sudden sound of scurrying rats and the repulsive touch of lichen growth clinging to an outer wall, they slowly made their way past the shadows.
It went on for hours, turn by anxious turn, inch by racking inch. They cut a treacherous path through the mud and the waste and the fear.
Razan’s sinewy tail thwapped against a brush of slime that ran in crooked tributaries along the stony flooring, its source a matter of which no one wished to discuss. Toad jumped in surprise at the resulting squelch, but then settled back into an uneasy pace after he realized what had happened. Mario and Luigi walked several meters before and behind the group, respectively, keeping a constant watch by the light of sustained fire orbs. “The quiet is unnerving,” Peach said through chattering teeth. “But only half as terrible as the freezing air.”
Toad voiced the question on all of their minds. “When will we reach the other side? I’ve been so long without light now, that I fear I must be blinded. Come now, you two were prisoners to this infernal pit at one time. Tell me, are we close to freedom?”
After an extended drag of silence, Mario called back through the thick space between them. “Much has changed, I am afraid, since the last time Luigi and I were forced to brave these tunnels. The air was less smothering then, lit by an unearthly glow that led us steadily forward without the need of fire. Some hidden evil spreads a veiling mist before us, umbrageous,” he said with special contempt, “and puzzling.”
“Yet we must go forward,” Luigi reminded his brother.
And so they went, on and on until their legs grew tired and unsteady. After Toad finally collapsed in exhaustion, a grunt from Razan could be heard as the lizard picked up their fallen comrade and slung him carefully across his back. “Rest eazy, my jaded little friend. Thiz one sees a spot of hopeful glisten in the distance.”
Upon closer inspection, the circular coruscation ahead of them began to ripple, now clearly not the egress passageway they had hoped for. It was, however, a variation, or rather a deviation in the daunting atmosphere of the sewers, and that was certainly something.
As they approached it, now within five meters of reaching out and touching its face, the curious anomaly shifted without warning, seeming to slide like slime onto the ground, ahead and below their feet. Peach let out a yelp of surprise, but then quickly restrained her alarm and produced a formidable dagger that glittered silver against the backdrop of shaded rainbow before them. Indeed, that was the color of the puddle as it oscillated outwards, grew tall, and formed something vaguely recognizable.
There was shrill shriek suddenly caught short, and before the stunned witnesses could react, Toad was screaming, howling in agony as he was grabbed by an amorphous hand that shot out of the figure before them. Mario was the closest, and so the first to dash to the Mushroomer’s rescue, but he was swiftly knocked aside, slammed against an imposing wall by another formless fist. Razan was upon the monstrosity, throat issuing forth a blood-curdling hiss, claws swiping deep gashes into the unformed flesh of the creature. The wounds healed instantly, but ere the Reznoth could continue his vicious assault, his strong legs were knocked out from under him, bringing the lizard’s head to crash against the coldness of the ground.
As Luigi rushed into the fray to combat their mysterious attacker, it drained itself through the solid stone flooring beneath him, seeping through thickly packed rock as if it was a grated gutter. Toad was left upon the filthy ground, gasping for breath and shaking uncontrollably. “I saw it… I saw the thing, groping for me like some ravenous demon! Oh, no… no, not yet! It’s coming!”
From the very depths of the underground came a low, terrible moaning that rattled the foundations of the water and stone around them. Luigi woke his brother as Peach busied herself with mending a jagged cut in Razan’s scaly head. After she had made a hasty fix, the two Mario Brothers hefted the weight of the Reznoth and carried him forward to a flight of stairs and a shaft of hazing light that shot down before them.
Presently it was made plain to them what had caused the darkness, the disorientation of not knowing where the tunnel began and ended. Something ancient, something older than rock had been awakened and was now dwelling far down in the unbidden chambers of Kero. By some fell sorcery it had reached them, transcended the walls of time and age to freeze their souls. Only by thin chance had it failed.
As they all surfaced above, moon and starlight poured on them like the divine rays of Heaven. Dismay took flight on dark wings, sailing below the earth to reunite with something dreadful and distant. The doom-doom of the moaning grew dimmer and faded quietly into nothing as the night enveloped their huddled figures. Ahead lay the sparkling waters of Tadpole Pond, but even they were now cloaked in shadow.
~*~*~*~
Traces of pale gray had begun to line the edges of the forlorn sky as the disheartened heroes walked between two beautifully carved amphibious statues, both marking the entrance to the secluded Tadpole Pond. Tangled pond tails and swaying reeds caught in the gentle wind that brushed against the reek-marshes, whistling the quiet tune of a new day.
There came low murmurings and what sounded like muffled sobs, both hanging in still air from further down the path, now twisting slightly to the left in a route that would lead them into the heart of the waterways. Mario’s spirit sank after spotting a large crowd of animals, tadpoles, and frogs, all blocking the view of Frogfucious’s solitary island in the middle of the largest pond.
Razan had healed but then chosen to stay outside and rest awhile so as to recover any lost strength. Peach closed her eyes in pain and sat upon a smoothed stone, weeping freely now as tears pushed between her fingers. Toad stood near her, taking one hand in his and patting it. “There, there, Princess, that nasty monster is behind us now.”
“It is not the monster that upsets her,” Mario said wearily, stepping slowly towards the stone bridge before him, the one that led out to the isolated island. “Frogfucious has been harmed. Let’s go, Luigi.”
The plumber garbed in green nodded and stepped in stride with his brother, both walking even slower than before, like the casket bearers at a funeral. The crowd ahead parted before them, and in the center, on a stone tablet placed upon two mounds of moss, laid Frogfucious. From the neck down he was covered in heavily stitched quilts of interwoven leaves through which spots of lost blood could be seen. His breathing came in short, quick gasps, and as his paling eyes caught sight of the approaching brothers, he smiled warmly. “You two look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“You should conserve your energy,” Luigi advised.
The elderly frog shook his head and laughed weakly. “Nonsense. I am dying, and that’s plain enough to see. If you must know, I predicted this.” His eyes looked off to the rays of light that pierced the gray in the distance. “I suppose I just didn’t want to believe it.”
“We did see a ghost,” Mario said meekly, stepping up beside Luigi to kneel before the wisefrog’s deathbed. “Or rather some demon. It rests below in the forbidden halls of the Kero Sewers. I thought the existence of such a specter was only a myth.”
“No, no, it is all too true,” Frogfucious said, his voice and gait now suddenly grim. “An evil shadow has crept back into the world, calling forth the beasts of old and dredging up curses that were thought to be sealed away. Do not worry, though, for countermeasures have already been set in motion by a higher force. Your friends and more of the chosen have started on their quests, some less intentionally than others, I might add. You too must now travel to Rose Town with Razan. Yes, I know his name. Do not be so surprised!
“Leave the fair princess and her loyal servant here. Although I’ve lost my life in doing so, I have managed to protect this fair land indefinitely against the gathering forces of darkness that even now seek to enter this lingering haven. The humans from afar follow their leader blindly, as many have witnessed. I have slain one of them during the night, only to be repaid the favor, as you can see. Go now, with the good will of us all.”
“What humans?” Luigi asked. “Who did this?!”
Frogfucious took one last breath, deep and full of sorrow. “When your paths cross, tell Mallow that I am finally at peace and that he need not worry. I now move forward into the final stage of life, my friends. For it is more wonderful than all the joys of Plit, with the power and the glory and the promise, forever in the infinite frontier that awaits me and all the many who follow. Goodbye!”
The sacred light was gone, and even the rising sun did little to ease the pain of his passing. Without words, without doubt, the Mario Brothers gave one last farewell and took their leave with Razan, following the long road to Rose Town.
Chapter Twelve: Plea to the Nimbians
A thin gray stretch of sickly clouds hung loose around the open summit of the Barrel Volcano. Furling mists poured out like sheets of rain, undulations of fog that swept swiftly over the precipitous slopes of the towering mountain. Further north was a thick blanket of black and purple, the fringes of a thunderstorm curling and frothing white forks of lightning whose strident claps could be heard from across the continent. Poison-blasted cones of earth heaved from the dead ash and crawling mud, the entrails of a past eruption long forgotten. High overhead, a sparse flock of dark-breasted Goonies cawed and circled the volcano’s craggy capital, being forced at intervals to retreat and cool their feathers from the intense heat that radiated off of the pit.
Winding crookedly through a desolate thatch of jagged tree stumps riddled with blackened scorches and fire tongues, a lone dirt road curved ominously towards the base of the mountain. Along the dust-blown way walked a familiar trio, the sullen forms of Geno, Jinx, and Merlon. Each bore a weighing discontent, the unquenchable fear they had felt while in the presence of the Shadow Spirit in Nimbus Land. Its rising fury and the horrible image of its breaking through solid ice played over and over again in their minds, rewinding and proceeding like some unremitting requiem. Even Merlon, the epitome of a being at peace with itself, could speak no words of encouragement or counsel. And so they walked dismally under the hanging gloom of the graying sky, praying silently that some auspicious augury would reveal a clearer way.
“The storm moves closer,” Merlon said, turning his hooded head to peer off into the distance. “It will be here by the sunset of the morrow’s end.”
Jinx nodded his head knowingly, hugging his flowing red cape tighter around him to ward off the gathering chill. “Then we must construct a shelter tonight. The shadow of the Barrel Volcano will serve us well.”
Geno was nowhere near as calm or collected as his traveling companions. Feelings of failure and doubt crept at his conscious and resolve, eating away at his drifting soul until he could bear it no longer. “Things have gone terribly wrong. Skolar has been corrupted, and so must have been the others. I try to see it, but I cannot perceive a chance of victory any longer. From my nightmares now I can only distinguish the cries of anguish and the relentless throes of death.
“What hope do we hold onto? What dream do we lay our courage in? All now has passed before me, the fields of grain and ambrosia, the undarkened waters of an endless Sea. Chaos reigns, the veil of terror that I am unable to unmask.” He fell to his knees and closed his eyes, grabbing onto the ground like some last support.
It felt cold and diseased in his hands.
“The hope we hold onto is what we make of our struggles,” Jinx said softly, placing a spherical fist on the Star Warrior’s shrouded shoulder. “That and nothing more.”
“But the chance that some Higher Force orchestrates our own will, looks after that which is pure and right,” Merlon finished. “That is what we must fight for while the lingering chance remains.”
Which begs the question, Geno thought as he stood from his place of resting, what is justified?
“The glory of purification will justify my methods,” a voice said darkly, as if filtered through a thickening shadow. “Come to me.”
“No,” Geno replied weakly. Twin needles pricked him, like death.
“Then I shall come to you.”
A pain registering beyond the thousand fiery spikes of the Abyss pounded into his body, paling and shredding his skin.
“No, no!” Geno screamed aloud, surprised to see his friends staring strangely back at him. There was a fading laughter, a rending cackle, and then nothing. “Didn’t you hear it? His voice!”
“Who?” Jinx asked, exchanging a worried glance with Merlon. “There were no words spoken but those that you yourself imparted.”
“Oh,” Geno said and cast his head down, more than a little embarrassed. What had just happened? And why had the voice seemed so familiar?
Before he could dwell on the matter, though, another sound occupied his attention. Jinx slid a hand down to his saber, while Merlon’s sleeved arms remained hidden in his heavy cloak. “Quiet! Someone approaches.”
Out of a dense pocket of withered brush came a single figure, clad only in green pants that stood in stark contrast with his cloudy white flesh. It was a Nimbian of average size, with a face that told of troubles undaunted by hope or mercy. A star-point spear was produced and leveled at the three trespassers. “My name is Vale, and I am a proud soldier of the Royal Guard. Lay down your weapons and come with me.”
Shortly after, a flicker of recognition flashed before his eyes, brought on as Geno stepped forward to meet him. To the surprise of his quarry, the Nimbian brought up his spear and leaned on it wearily. “Thank the Stars,” he exclaimed breathlessly. “I thought you were with the Dark One.”
“Do you mean Skolar?” Geno prompted. “Tell us what happened!”
“I was going to ask you a similar question,” Vale said, puzzled. “Are you not Geno, the famed Star Warrior who came down to Plit?”
“Yes, I am,” Geno replied. “Yet I have been stripped of my powers. An Unknown Shadow has invaded the peaceful sanctity of Star Haven and imprisoned the Star Spirits. And now,” he added gravely, “it would seem that they have been turned evil, as well.”
“This is indeed dire news, though I am afraid it comes too late,” Vale said, his spear suddenly hoisted and brought beside him. “But these matters are not fit to be discussed before a mere servant such as myself. Come, you must relate the events of your passing to King Nimbus. He and his queen await my report at the base of the Barrel Volcano, in a secluded glen that has been our people’s desperate refuge for many ages.”
“What of Mallow?” Jinx asked hopefully. “Is he there also?” It wasn’t that the minute warrior distrusted Vale or disliked the King and Queen, but the noble Prince was well known among the three of them and certainly more skilled at making important decisions.
Vale sighed and bowed his head sadly. “I am afraid he left several days ago, before our troubles started. Rumor has it that he was heading east to-”
“East?” Merlon repeated. “East to what?”
“I would not be so disloyal as to tell you here,” Vale said stoically. “If you wish to know, I am sure King Nimbus will tell you.”
Seeing that they were going to get nothing further out of the stubborn Nimbian, they followed him quickly through a tangled maze of dying mud brush and rotting ground thicket.
~*~*~*~
Geno could not help but let out a quick breath of amazement as Vale led his willing prisoners through a final curtain of barren trees. Below them, spread out two kilometers over a vast dell ripe with green fields and fruit-bearing trees, the full told numbers of the Nimbian people were camped. Gathering to and fro across the site, proud legions marched up and down the white-clothed ranks, singing march songs of encouragement and shouting orders of readiness. Citizens bereft of martial experience fled to their respective tents, some crying, others blank with sorrow.
“King Nimbus has mustered the Cumulus,” Vale said to those that had closed in behind him. “It is the name for our collective military forces. Long have they been legendary among the peoples of Plit, and now dire need has called them to arise and stand strong in the face of evil, the greatest of our time.”
“There must be at least five-thousand bearing weapons,” said Jinx, astonished. He crept to the edge of the cliff they were standing on and peered over. “And this was not enough to combat the corrupted Skolar?”
Vale was taken aback at the warrior’s question. “As you could well guess, Master Jinx, the Cumulus is much too large to reside in Nimbus Land for any length of time. Only the citizens and Royal Guard live there, while the full might of our army makes its home here, in the glens of the Barrel Volcano. And even here is only three-thousand; the other half are forever abroad on the sea, guarding against foreign invasion. Now, though, they have been called back for the doom of our time, the last march of the Cumulus.”
Merlon spoke finally, but his words were ill-taken. “For it has come that the very Stars above yield to Shadow, and the remaining days of Plit wane with an unholy uncertainty.”
Vale started, spurred on by an air of resigned obeisance. “The night has come. Quickly, we must make our way down the cliff face. King Nimbus will soon address his people.”
~*~*~*~
A rousing chorus of strained cheers shot up through the low-hanging mists that hugged close around the yawning faces of the mountainous walls all about them. Dignified and clad in the finest armor of Nimbian craft, the proud soldiers of the Cumulus put forth their spears and shouted cries of the impending war, bellows that rang the very foundation of their isolated alcove and sent fear through all that listened in. Sword hilts smote the base of shields over and again, renting the air, cracking the volcano’s cavernous passes like thunder.
The hand of King Nimbus rose, and all fell quiet. Silence reigned, a ceaseless breath of trepidation. “My brave Cumulus, the heart and the glory of the Nimbian race!”
Another concert of symphonic exultation beat the darkening sky, followed by the clear trumpeting of pearling horns. “Save such grandeur for the times that lay ahead of us. For it has come anon that we must ride to battle, perhaps the final struggle of our long and prosperous history. Our guardians in Star Haven have betrayed us, and now they seek to claim our hold on this wonderful planet Plit. We have grown strong, and so they fear us, which is hope enough, I say. Let us show them that we shall not give our lives so eagerly. The dawn has died; the night has set. Valiant deeds arise, and follow into war!”
Red light began to dim, and the sun continued to sink below the edge of the world.
“He makes his war against that which may not be vanquished,” said Geno as he turned to Jinx in despair. “How has it come to this? What may we do to save the Star Spirits without forfeiting our own existence?”
Merlon moved through the riled and spirited crowd of soldiers, seemingly unimpressed at the rabble of confidence the Nimbian King had managed to stir. “All hope is not yet lost. I see on the horizon a glimmer of revival. A Savior is coming.”
“You have seen this?” asked Jinx doubtfully. “Why have you not spoken of such a thing already?
Before he could answer, a call came out from Vale to turn about. Parting his way through an encroaching throng of zealous Nimbians was the King. At last he had found time to meet with them, and if fortune held true, then they would learn much about the manner of his haste. “My dear friends,” he said cheerfully, extending arms to greet them in a wide embrace, “it warms my spirit that you have come on the eve of battle. Tell me that you come to offer us your support!”
Geno thought about introducing their Shaman companion, but the enigmatic Merlon had already left, presumably with Vale, as the latter was nowhere to be found. “Do not look so meek! We have much to talk about, you and I. Master Jinx, Star Warrior Geno, accompany me to my tent. There a hot meal and drink await you both, if you are willing to accept it.”
“We would be honored,” Jinx said and let King Nimbus lead the way. He hoped that, whatever Merlon was doing, it was worthwhile to their cause. Geno fell lightly in step behind the pair, and together, the three made their way to the northern edge of camp.
Meanwhile, the Shaman in question was walking slowly astride the Nimbian Vale, talking quietly with him over the matters at hand. If his visions were correct, the Savior he saw would come from the east, which meant he had to discover where King Nimbus planned to lead the army and if there was any way of convincing his people to counter their commands if the need arose.
“Tell me again, Vale, where the King plans to strike first,” said Merlon softly, hoping that the subject would be comforted after his ruler’s speech. “If it is on our way, we would be more willing to aid you in the coming trial.”
“Your words are fair, Shaman,” Vale said shrewdly, “but I persist, I cannot tell you that. Have heart, though, for your friends will know soon enough. The King seems to place great trust in them.”
“It is that which worries me,” Merlon said from behind his veil, but the words did not affect the incurious Nimbian. “Surely you must see the madness in King Nimbus’ crusade against the Stars. Has the thought not crossed your mind that the Guardians themselves have been overthrown? What then would a plight against them solve?”
“You ask of me the impossible,” Vale said. “I shall not divide my allegiance between my king and country. If only Prince Mallow were here…”
“Then he would see reason,” Merlon interjected. “He has already made a path to the east, where the real troubles lie. The King plans to direct the Cumulus at Nimbus Land, doesn’t he?”
Vale said nothing, only stared ahead.
“That is madness, and you know it! Against a shadow of that propensity only vain valor will be spent. Without the aid of the Nimbians, I fear for the survival of the Mushroom Village.” He placed a cloaked hand upon the man’s shoulder. “They need your help.”
“I look to my own loyalties, Master Merlon,” Vale said finally. He lifted back the cloudy flap of a tent that was staked before them. “Here is where you may rest until dawn, when fate is decided.”
“Consider my words, Vale,” the Shaman pleaded. “Do not forsake what little hope is left. Even if you are to drive back the Shadow Skolar…” a thought crossed his mind, fleeting, flying on wings, “then all will still be lost.”
“I can promise you nothing,” returned the other, and with that he had gone.
Merlon remained motionless, contemplating the hidden revelation that had only then come to him. “I need meditation,” he resolved and sat upon the cushioned interior of the dwelling, allowing himself to settle into an ascetic position. “That and time.”
~*~*~*~
The lavish compartments within King Nimbus’ temporal domicile were a welcome break from the days of marching around the Barrel Volcano’s wasted countryside. Two solitary servants garbed in ostentatious wear brought forth a sizable silver platter etched with intricate designs of cloud and sun. Upon it was set three eloquent wine glasses filled with some exotic Nimbian drink that Jinx enjoyed more so than any brew that he could remember tasting. Of course, Geno had to refuse, but his explanation satisfied the King, and shortly after he decided that they could commence with their discussion.
“Vale informs me that you came with another, a Shaman if my failing memory serves me correctly. I would very much like to learn his identity, if it is not too secret.”
“He is Merlon,” said Geno promptly. “This particular Shaman owns a fortune telling shop in Toad Town, and he once aided Mario in one of his many quests.”
King Nimbus nodded his bulbous head, seeming to take in the information with a fair amount of recognition. “I have also been told that you came from our abandoned capital. Did you meet the demon Skolar?”
“Yes, and on that matter I would like to talk with you,” Geno said quickly. “I am sure Vale has related the meager details of my falling from grace, though I would like to add that during the experience, I saw a Shadow appear around the Star Council. It is in my humble opinion that the Star Guardians have not turned against us, but merely been controlled by some evil entity. Thus, directing your efforts against whole Spirits at this point in time might not be the best decision.”
The face of King Nimbus grew suddenly grim. “If I had known you would come bearing only reprobation of my design, I should not have wished for your assistance. Come now, tell me your visit has some other purpose.”
“Geno is right,” the other said, taking a sip from his cup. “But, as is your wish, we shall not pursue these matters any further for the time being. Instead, perhaps you will tell us of any news from the east, where Prince Mallow has set his sights.”
“My son’s mission was not made plain to me,” King Nimbus explained. “Though I have heard only ill news from the Mushroom Village. It would seem that both the Princess Peach and the Mario Brothers have disappeared. Worse yet, it is fairly certain that the former is no longer among the living. Dire times these are when such beauty is faded before its prime.”
Geno and Jinx stood shocked for several seconds. It was almost too sudden and inconceivable to accept. The Star Warrior took the seat beside his friend. “This cannot be. That the Mario Brothers and the fair maiden of Toadstool would be dead is beyond my darkest dream.”
Jinx took it upon himself to continue. “Let us all hope that this information is false; in the meanwhile, can you tell us the cause?”
“Truly, I cannot, and believe me I know what you would have me do. But you must understand, my men are anxious, wrathful of the power that has stolen their homeland. It is their will, I think, to march on Nimbus Land and reclaim our capital. They will not be convinced to aid the Mushroomers, no matter how dreadful things are for them. We have our own borders to look to.”
“If you would but lend me a subsidiary force that I could lead to the Mushroom Village,” Jinx began, “then perhaps that would quell the flame that now exists.”
Geno looked up from his dejected silence. “It is all we could ask, I suppose, but it would make all the difference in the world.”
King Nimbus cast down his eyes and sighed heavily. “Since you are great friends of Mallow, I will allow you to take the 2nd Battalion, under the command of Royal Guardsman Vale. It is small, yes, but it is all that I can spare.”
Geno rose and then bowed respectfully. “We thank you for this mighty honor, King Nimbus. In better times, may our discussions take a more pleasant course.”
“I’ll drink to that,” the King replied and drowned his glass.
~*~*~*~
Merlon was drifting through the endless bounds of his subconscious, searching to pinpoint the single thought that had crossed his mind during his last words with Vale and discover its source. He had found his original goal rather quickly, and now he knew that the Skolar they had met in Nimbus Land was but a shadow and a replication, propelled only by the evil that had ruined Geno.
In addition, though, he had found something else, something terrible and unexpected. It called to him through the void. “Merlon! Merlon!”
“It is I,” he answered and waited impatiently.
“We shall meet soon, you and I, before this is over. I make my home in the forbidden bowls of the Barrel Volcano, and there you will go inevitably. The answers that you seek are within my grasps, and all that you have to do to achieve them for yourself is to arrive at the threshold of my domain.”
“Any answers that you think I seek are already known to me. If I rightly hit the mark, then you are the Czar Dragon, the infernal beast of the lava. From you I wish for nothing.”
There was a boiling laugh, deep and horrible as the froth of fire. “We shall see soon enough, Master Shaman. For now, I leave you in peace. Your friends have come.”
Geno and Jinx entered seconds after the transmission was cut. Merlon stood up and uncrossed his arms. “I have something of great importance to tell you. After searching through the reaches of my thought, I have concluded that the Skolar we saw was only an empty shell of the original, a contingency of the Shadow that you saw behind the Star Council, Geno.”
Jinx nodded approvingly. “Unfortunately, King Nimbus will probably not believe you. In any case, we have managed to extract a portion of his army for our use. Vale and the 2nd Battalion will travel with us to the Mushroom Village.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Merlon asked. “The hour of decision is here, but I fear that even now we may be too late. How many make up the 2nd Battalion?”
“Fifteen-hundred soldiers,” answered Geno. “Though the number is small, we have discovered an advantage that is most encouraging. If you will?” the Star Warrior said slyly and motioned him outside.
Merlon looked above, far overhead to the mists surrounding the slopes that slanted upwards. They broke off in pieces, like the curved fragments of an extensive jig-saw puzzle, and soared in cloudy puffs to the ground below. Tens by tens, the Nimbians at their command hopped aboard the individual carriers, looking fierce and prepared for battle. Each wore the standard pale armor of the Cumulus and carried upon his back a bow, a quiver of arrows, and two sabers sporting ivory handles.
Vale stepped forward and saluted smartly. “The 2nd Battalion of the Cumulus is at your command, Master Jinx.”
Row after row of airborne cavalry followed suit, snapping their hills together, and throwing their hands up for a collective salute. Even Merlon seemed impressed, though he spoke not a word. The newly commissioned Commander Jinx fixed his cape and walked out to meet them. “Let us make haste; our friends are in need.”
~*~*~*~
A cloaked and cowled figure weaved confidently through the maze of the Mushroom Forest, faintly wondering why its interconnected branch ways and hanging leaf vines seemed so familiar. And then, as the first flash of lightning on a cloudless day, it struck her.
Raul’s directive…
The fleeing Magikoopa…
A flash of white light, her prey stolen, and then nothing…
Cele lifted back her drooping hood and peered into the murky depths of the woods, seeing a gloomy clearing some fifty meters ahead of her. Another one of her brethren had died, Barth, it seemed. Raul had most likely felt the death, too, as well as the murder of Halfex at Tadpole Pond. That left the human group with twenty-one members, more than enough to accomplish the task at hand.
It was impossible, unacceptable that her efforts had been routed by a simple Magikoopa. But then again, Cele didn’t wholly believe that Kamek alone had caused her downfall. Something else had saved him, and whatever it was had been strong enough to catch her off guard and allow him the chance to score a strike. She placed a hand over a deep wound in her abdomen, covered with a leaf of the healing thelean plant.
“He will pay,” she promised. “And then he will die.”
A pair of crimson eyes glowing in the thrush bid her silent, and she bowed low on one knee, completely at their command. “My Lord Raul,” she addressed the figure that now stepped forth out of the choking mists, “I have been delayed, and the Magikoopa Kamek has escaped.”
“You will not be punished,” he said to her surprise. “Rise, for we have many things to talk about. There has come an impedance unlooked for in my planning; a Savior of the infidels has revealed himself to me. We must make preparations for his undoing.”
“If I may ask, what is his name?”
Raul walked alongside her quietly, with a gait that forced her reverence and respect. “He is the Magikoopa that eluded you, the one called Kamek who has come back now to challenge my will.”