Chapter Fifteen: Dark Days on Isle Delfino
For as long as any of the inhabitants on the Delfino Island Chain could remember, the weather had always been perpetually sunny. Granted, there was a short spell in which Bowser had managed to entrap the Shine Sprites that kept the island bright and cheerful, but the intuitive plumber Mario was able to clean up the situation quite sufficiently. As of late, however, the unwelcome sight of white clouds ruled the early mornings. It was not long before purples and blacks began to form on the horizon, and everywhere, the talk of a coming storm was rank with concern.
Mario and his companions came out of their warp haze before the Grand Pianta Statue in the Delfino Plaza. Rain came down harsh upon the interconnected stone walkways, and the cloud cover cast an unsettling dimness over the city. Razan, having never experienced the splendor of the Delfino Island, was altogether unaffected, but Mario, his brother, and Yoshi were immediately thrown into a somber mood.
“I’m beginning to see why Kamek sent us here,” said Mario, feeling the uncomfortable pitter-patter of raindrops splashing against his dry clothing. He undid his cuff links and massaged his aching wrists.
“Problem number two,” Luigi said, stepping out towards the line of palm trees that guarded the beach. “There are absolutely no Piantas on the streets. Usually they’re bustling around no matter what the happening.”
Razan hissed and smelt the air with his forked tongue. “Thiz one does not know what theze Piantas look like, but the absence of any sentient beingz in such a civilized environment is extremely unnerving.”
Yoshi plodded over to the main fountain and bent his head down for a lap or two of water. He tasted it briefly, running it over his tongue like a connoisseur judging the flavor of wine. “There doesn’t seem to be anything foul in the rainwater. Perhaps the appearance of precipitation after all this time just has them spooked.”
“Either way,” Mario said, “our best hope of finding someone with any kind of authority is to split up. Luigi, you and Razan go explore the areas around the Shine Gate, and Yoshi and I will knock on all of these doors. Hopefully we’ll find someone who is reasonably hospitable.”
“You are the definitive hero to these people, so that shouldn’t be too hard, right, brother?” Luigi asked with a grin.
Mario tried to smile, but the thought of Princess Peach worrying herself in the confines of Tadpole Pond and the mystique of the last words of Frogfucious continued to haunt him. “Let’s hope so.”
Luigi and the willing Reznoth rounded the next corner, leaving Yoshi and Mario to wonder around in a sort of uneasy silence. “So, Yoshi, how have you been?”
“Fine, I suppose,” the Yoster said, shrugging his green shoulders. His tail dragged limply along the damp pavement. “It seems like everything has been getting me down recently.”
“I know what you mean,” said Mario, stretching two short arms behind his head and yawning. “I don’t think I’ve slept in three days.”
“I haven’t eaten any fruit in four hours,” said Yoshi, emphasizing the length of time as if it was a pitiable feat. “My insides are grumbling something terrible.”
Mario narrowed his eyes and stopped, looking behind him. He ran quickly over to a fallen coconut under one of the palms and brought it back. “Here you go, pal. Try one of these.”
Yoshi gulped the delicious specimen down in the blink of an eye, savoring its sweet taste. “That’s why you have so many good friends, Mario. You always know how to lighten even the grimmest of moods.”
“The sentiment is appreciated,” Mario thanked. “But my mind now is filled with thoughts of the Mushroom Village burning. I hope Geno and the others get there in time.”
“About that,” Yoshi started, curious. “Kamek never mentioned how Geno got back in his corporeal form. If the Star Haven is in turmoil, then how did it affect him?”
“He’s probably not able to obtain ascension any longer,” said Mario, trying his best to seem knowledgeable on the subject.
“I’m not worried, though,” Yoshi said cheerfully. “We’ve always been able to find our way out of any bind, and this one’s no different.”
“Yeah,” said Mario half-heartedly, while thinking, 'I just hope you’re right.'
The first door they came to was knocked on twice before the sound of footsteps pounding down a stairwell could be heard. Yoshi flinched slightly as the rising clamor of two conflicting voices drifted under a nearby window. Mario sighed heavily and readied himself to knock again, but before he could bring his hand up, the door swung inwards.
Looking at them with a mild degree of distrust was a female Pianta. She had wide-rimmed glasses, a deep purple flesh tone, and a red-and-white striped dress that covered the length of her wide body. After tapping her flat foot impatiently, she huffed with an air of discourteous bravado.
“Well,” she said expectantly, “what can I do for you gents?”
“We seek a place to stay for the night,” Mario said nobly. “My friend and I need cover from the storm, and tomorrow we must speak with someone of authority in the city.”
“This is a fortune-telling shop, the finest in the city,” she proclaimed. “You may stay here, but the fee is costly, and I’m afraid you won’t be finding our Mayor, if he’s who you’re after.”
Mario and Yoshi stepped inside as she beckoned them forward, dripping water over a dirty dust mat. “Has he taken ill?”
“No, no, nothing like that, unfortunately,” said the Pianta. “He’s a ruthless tyrant, always charging ridiculous taxes and enforcing insensible laws. And when this storm blew in, he went up and skipped town. No one knows where he went, and in the meanwhile, we’re all left here to brave this dreadful monsoon.”
She handed them each a plush towel and led them into the sitting room. “Dry yourselves off by the fire, if you please. The mistress doesn’t take with a soggy carpet; it’s one of her pet peeves, I suppose.”
They obliged, sitting on their towels spread out before the building’s fireplace, a brick monument headed with a plank holding up several odds and ends. Yoshi sneezed, nearly rocking back on his tail. “I’ll have you two a cup of tea in a moment. The mistress will want to know everything about you.”
“Your mistress,” said Mario. “Is she the fortune-teller?”
“Why, of course!” she exclaimed, as if he were the only person alive that had not heard of her. “Madame Merlina is the twin sister of the famed Merlon of Toad Town, who I’m sure you’ve heard plenty about.”
Mario almost fell backwards this time, but willed the urge away. “I know him very well, indeed. He aided me in one of my quests against King Bowser.”
“King Bowser, you say? You wouldn’t happen to be... no, it’s impossible,” she stopped herself. “For a moment there I thought you were Mario.”
“He is,” Yoshi blurted out. “And it would do you good to fetch that pot of tea, with fruit extracts, too, because I’m building up an awful cold.”
“Well, bless my twig, you are the Super Mario, the hero of the Pianta legends. I was living on another island when you came, so I never got the chance to meet you. Merlina will be pleasantly surprised,” she said, and then spotted the glaring Yoshi opposite him. “Oh, right, the tea. I’ll be just a minute.”
As she scuttled off, Mario turned to Yoshi. “Try to be a little bit nicer. We don’t want to get kicked out of here and back into the rain. Besides, this Merlina might be the key Kamek was talking about.”
“I doubt it,” Yoshi mumbled, stretching his hands out toward the flames. “Luigi and Razan wouldn’t like it if they saw us here warming ourselves and enjoying a nice hot cup of tea, either.”
Mario grunted but then straightened himself as a Shaman wearing blue and purple clothes glided into the room. She considered them carefully before sitting back into a large chair positioned before a mahogany table. Resting in the center of it was a crystal ball similar to Merlon’s. After flourishing her ample hood, the curious hostess gestured for her servant to bring in the tea, upon which she did. Mario and Yoshi accepted the cups gratefully and drank their fill.
“Now,” said Merlina, “Tell me, how did the two of you come by my humble door on this violent night?”
“I cannot say that our arrival was purely by accident, but I would also feel uncomfortable telling you the true purpose of our visit to the Delfino Island,” Mario said prudently. “If you were to offer us some proof that your intentions are principled, we might be willing to reveal the nature of our journey.”
“Well-spoken,” said Merlina, stirring her steaming tea with an eloquently carved utensil. “The Mario I have heard of from my brother is both courageous in battle and surefooted in speech. No wonder the fair princess admires you so.”
“I was not aware that you and her had met,” Mario said, trying to conceal his embarrassment.
“One does not have to meet Princess Peach to know her, I should think. Her deeds and virtues are well-known to all those of a worldly mind.”
“Yes,” Yoshi confirmed. “It has been several months since I last saw her, and now it seems I shall never get the chance.”
“Do not let your heart be burdened by friends that are abroad, Master Yoshi,” said the Shaman. “For these times are a sorrow to all that bear them, and your tears are better spent for the joy at the end of despair.”
“I begin to think that there is no end,” said Mario. “My mentor Frogfucious is dead, and Kamek tells us the Mushroom Village is on the brink of destruction.” He closed his mouth, mentally berating himself for not watching his tongue more carefully.
“So, it finally comes out,” Merlina said. “I knew that if I allowed you enough time, the truth would reveal itself, but do not worry. I am the contact Kamek meant for you to find, and perhaps it is fate that we have found each other so easily.”
“I don’t really have any other choice than to trust you, and after putting myself in league with a dark wizard, why shouldn’t I?” Mario chuckled. “But first, we will need to find our friends, Luigi and a Reznoth by the name of Razan.”
Merlina’s teacup tottered in her grip, and then shattered on the carpet below, spilling the contents along the flooring. “Your friends!” she exclaimed, and bolted out of her seat. “They are in grave danger. Quickly, we must go to them!”
“What has happened?” Yoshi asked, whimpering.
“I do not know, though the feeling is unmistakable, an urgent blast of pain.” She was moving to the door, shrouding herself in a scarlet rain cover. “If we do not locate them directly, then I fear they may die.”
~*~*~*~
Luigi and Razan walked cautiously down a dimly lit alleyway off of one of the less visited streets behind the Shine Gate. So far they had found nothing, and the continuous sound of falling rain was beginning to drive the two of them crazy. Though even if they had attempted to find a house with occupants willing to accept guests, their search would have been in vain. All of the windows and doors along the dank passage were either empty or boarded up.
“I’m beginning to think Mario knew we were getting the rotten end of the deal. He’s probably safe and snug in some quality Inn while we’re out here soaked and starving,” Luigi quipped.
“Actually, the conditions are somewhat relaxing. In thiz one’s homeland, dampness and the consistency of rain were commonplace,” Razan explained. “It iz a comforting reminder of the past.”
“That reminds me,” said Luigi, “I still have many questions to ask you about Reznia. For instance, you never properly explained to me why you came seeking our help. Wasn’t the problem with the Koopas resolved?”
Razan nodded. “Yes, it is as thiz one said. The troubles that drove me here seem pale in the light of what is happening in your own country, though I suppose when we have ample time, I shall try to explain them to you.”
“There is no time like the present,” Luigi pointed out. “At the very least, it might be indirectly connected with our current predicament.”
The lizard turned his head away, struggling internally over whether to tell Luigi or not. It was plausible that the events might be helpful to know, but would it be wise to reveal the truth after witnessing the things he had experienced thus far?
Razan’s decision was made for him, though, when a faint light escaped under a doorway ahead of them. The musty glow flickered in low tones, waving to and fro as if by the source of a lantern, and a long shadow stretched from the entryway, crooked with age. Luigi listened closely, trying to make out the soft whispers that emanated from the house.
“There isn’t anything out here, boss,” said a twisted voice, almost like the rusty grind of a toothy wheel.
“Now that’s odd,” another someone said, this one with an elevated speech. “I was sure I’d heard a couple of rogues.”
A gnarled figure hobbled out of the door and into the alleyway, a Noki disfigured beyond recognition. His shell was shriveled like a rotted prune, and as he spoke, his head quivered. “Wait, there is someone out here,” he said, keening his eyes. “You two, get over here and out of that nasty rain. Come on, and don’t dawdle!”
Luigi gave Razan a meaningful look and shrugged, stepping quickly into the light of the open doorway. The Reznoth followed, and both of them were lead into a storage room filled to the ceiling with cardboard boxes and crates, each emitting a different aroma. At the back of the room was a ragged desk, and seated behind it was a Pianta donning a regal dress coat and a stately pair of glasses.
He checked an elaborately designed pocket watch chained to his jacket and twitched his long nose. “Well, I see someone’s found me out at last. Have a seat, boys.”
The Pianta motioned them towards two makeshift chairs, and they sat, glad to be off their feet. “If it’s not too much trouble, may I ask who sent you?”
“I’m not sure exactly what you’re getting at,” Luigi responded truthfully. “We weren’t sent to look for you, at least not that I know of. The person we are seeking is supposed to be expecting us.”
“Oh, well, then,” he said, making an obscure movement under his desk. “That is a nice bit of news. I thought you were one of the blasted peasants, come to scare me out.”
“You are the Mayor,” guessed Luigi. “Why are you in hiding?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” the Pianta asked,
obviously becoming frustrated with the course of the conversation.
“This storm is an omen! Our doom is
at hand, and if I tried to help them, they’d just blame me for their troubles.”
“Well, none of that is any of our business. I’m Luigi, and this is Razan, a native of Reznia,” he said, not bothering to ask if the Mayor knew the land.
The Pianta reeled, a blank look of shock suddenly spread across his face. His glance moved nervously to a corner of the room behind his two guests. “Is that so?”
Luigi looked curiously behind his shoulder, seeing only the deformed Noki, who was standing complacently in front of a shadowed portion of the room out of the lantern’s reach. He turned himself about, studying the Mayor’s face. “Why, is something wrong?”
“No, nothing at all,” he said, and there was another shuffle behind his desk. “Would you care for something to eat or drink? I’m a terrible host!”
“Actually,” said Razan, a soft growl forming in his throat, “I think we’ll be leaving. Our friendz are expecting us.”
“Ah, but I insist,” said the Mayor, reverting again to his genial tone. “Seekmod may look a bit rough, but he makes an excellent brew.”
He snapped his stubby fingers, and the Noki croaked. “Right away, sir.”
“Sad that he’s the only one I can trust in these days. Fear rules this island now, instead of me, and it won’t be long before crime breaks out,” he said, sighing and snuffling.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Luigi, casting a placating look at Razan. “Is there anything we can do to help? My brother Mario and I would be more than willing to aid you in whatever way we’re able.”
“Mario?” the Pianta almost shouted, grasping a cup of some elixir from Seekmod. “Is he here, also?”
“Yes,” Luigi confirmed. “As I said, we are looking for someone. Have you noticed any strange visitors on your island recently?”
“Merlina is not a visitor, by any means, but she is a strange old bird,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Spreading superstition and mistrust is her way, and I despise it.”
“That name seems somewhat familiar to me,” said Luigi. “She wouldn’t happen to be related to Merlon of Toad Town, would she?”
The Pianta started to say something, but stopped himself abruptly. “I really have no idea. And you said the two of you must be leaving?”
“Yez,” said Razan, and rose. “It haz been an interesting experience.”
As they turned to leave, Luigi looked once more at the Mayor. Razan’s eyes were glued to the dark corner of the room, and he thought he had a brief glimpse of cloth. “Are you sure there is nothing we can do for you?”
Seekmod favored them with a hideous grin.
The Pianta shook his head remorsefully. When they had left, he added, “I am afraid you are much too late for that.”
~*~*~*~
Merlina led the way under the pouring rain, Mario and Yoshi fanned out behind her. The outlying resound of thunder grew closer as they speeded and turned swiftly through the maze-like streets of the Delfino Plaza. While the Shaman simply floated over the less shallow puddles, Mario and Yoshi always managed to get drenched in muddied water. Despite the discomfiture of their hurried trek, both heroes were rather worried about the safety of their fellow travelers.
In the blink of an eye, Merlina soared into the air and bounded along a row of red rooftops. Not wanting to be left behind, Mario mounted Yoshi, and the determined Yoster fluttered upwards, following the Shaman.
“The threat and the shadow grows,” she said grimly, shouting back at them. “We must make haste!”
Mario and Yoshi, along with Merlina, suddenly found themselves surrounded by a glowing rainbow of colors, flashing and letting off a bright gleam. It was a spell cast by the skillful Shaman, and now they were twice as fast as before. At a remarkable speed, they sailed over the skyline as if they were flying.
Yoshi, caught up in the moment, made a slight error in his next hop and fluttered out of control, squeaking as he and Mario plunged into the yellow warp pipe that was linked to the Hotel Delfino. Merlina forced a quick stop and dispersed her spell, biting back a harmless curse. She wasn’t exactly sure if tackling the force at the other end of her destination alone was such an accomplishable feat. Either way, though, Luigi and Razan had to be warned, and she had no time to recover Mario and the Yoster.
She plowed ahead and through the rain, holding back a rising dread.
~*~*~*~
Mario found himself sitting quite comfortably on an endless sandy beach, watching a beautiful sunset of purples and reds behind the Pina Park. Contrary to his first thought, however, he was actually inside the Hotel Delfino, with a poster advertisement of the resort’s trademark attraction plastered to his face. Yoshi was sputtering a mouthful of water in one of the lobby’s small rivers of fountain water. The director rushed over to them, helping the pair up.
“I told Ned to fix that Warp Pipe, but does anyone ever listen to me? I’ll never see the end of it!” he exclaimed, handing a towel to Yoshi.
“Er, hello, Director,” Mario said, a bit confused. He looked around, noticing the hotel was unusually vacant. “I suppose the storm has hurt your business, as well.”
“Surely, it has!” said the Director, pushing up his spectacles. “Not as terrible as that goopy manta ray, but awful all the same. Suppose you could fix it like last time?”
“Sure, but first,” Yoshi said, “we need to get back to the Plaza. What’s the quickest way?”
“Well, like I said, the warp pipe is warped, and it’s absolutely inoperable on this end, so you’ll have to take the ferry across to the other side, instead.”
Mario groaned and stood up, rubbing out the soreness in his neck. “Every time I visit this island chain, disaster strikes. Our friends are in trouble, and we don’t have a second to spare!”
“There is my speedboat,” the Director said at last. “Since I do owe you one, I’ll lend you the keys. Just promise me you’ll make this thunderstorm nonsense go away.”
“We will,” Yoshi promised as he and Mario dashed out of the door and towards the resort’s only port. The dinosaur only hoped they wouldn’t be too late.
~*~*~*~
Mayor Lolik of the Delfino Island breathed a long sigh of relief after his unexpected visitors took their leave. Seekmod only cackled hysterically, seemingly excited by the whole turn of events. Even the sick little Noki cowered, though, when a human draped in a black cloak and hood stepped out from the shadows he had previously guarded.
“That little nervous twitch almost cost my cover, you blithering idiot,” the figure said harshly, bringing a hand back as if to smack the Pianta. Lolik closed his eyes and fell to the ground, shivering. “Stop your quaking, coward. We have work to do.”
“Work?” the Mayor asked and lifted his head from the wooden floor. “Aren’t you going to kill them?”
“Yes, yes, as soon as possible,” the human said, tightening his belt. He kicked the sniveling Seekmod across the room and found his long, shimmering sword. “I’ll follow those two and find the rest of their pathetic group. I believe the Merlina you spoke of is with them, as well, though I cannot yet sense her presence.”
“Why did you say we had work to do if you are simply going to kill them and make an end of it?” the Pianta questioned.
“Try to think for once!” was the enraged reply. “The storm that you constantly whine about is not a random occurrence. Before the source of it reaches mid-sky over the Corona Mountain, there is business that needs tending to. We have one week, and in that time, you must reclaim your position as Mayor and plan a celebratory gathering at the Mountain, promising that you have some solution to the coming storm.
“There must be no meddling inside Corona, but my colleagues and I will see to that,” the human smirked. “You just complete your end of the deal.”
“And I can be the President of all the islands once you're done?” Lolik asked hopefully.
“Yes, of course, once we’re done,” he said with an air of mocking malevolence. “You will get everything you deserve, all in good time.”
“Should I have Seekmod make another pot of tea for your return?” the Pianta asked, trying to sound sincere and helpful.
“Don’t wait up on me,” said the human as he vanished into the rain, thinking only of Raul and his glorious task.
~*~*~*~
Mario and Yoshi were speeding along in the Director’s exceptionally luxurious boat, parting great waves as they went that then crashed along the island wall. Yoshi pulled out a map, but it was lost in the howling wind.
“Don’t worry,” said Mario. “I can see the Harbor. We’ll be there before sunrise.”
Yoshi’s eyes wondered to the storm, and he thought it was worse than the one that he’d seen over the Mushroom Kingdom. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire,” he said wistfully. “Isn’t that always the way?”
Chapter Sixteen: Embarkation ex Seaside
The winds were calm on the night before the Ellie was due to set sail for the Dinosaur Islands. There Mallow sat peacefully in the crow’s nest, reclined against a stack of pillows covered with a rough blanket. He had taken a moment from reading one of Russ T.’s classifications on sea mammals to watch the exquisite Coral Sea sunset, and after counting the first fifty stars that blinked into existence, he nuzzled in closer to his bed place, resting breezily in the soothing cradle of the ocean harbor.
But the warmth and tranquility of the night were not to last much longer. And before the turn of many hours, chill winds from the far North came down and blew freezing over the waters of the Seaside Port.
Seagulls squawked in their perches, taking off in flight and dispersing throughout the sky, now fleeing far over the edge of the world. Then Mallow sat up in fear, feeling weak and alone beyond the reach of time. Shadows played against the darker twilight of his mind, a ghostly march of gnarled limbs stretching out and clawing hungrily.
Now rising, the sky pounded with a ruddy glow, two dim slits like crimson eyes searching, scouring in the void of life and light.
He rubbed his eyes, staring ahead and finding himself strangely short of breath. His eager lungs wheezed, grasping at the air, and he lay down his head in weariness of the nightmare.
The same visions had plagued his dreams night after night without end, and he still could not guess the origin of their terror. Even what Eldstar had told him was beginning to seem false, but no matter how strenuously Mallow tried to perceive the truth, he always ended up with a multitude of unanswerable questions.
Out under the open sky of a roaming field or a sprawling ocean, Mallow’s thoughts often drifted to his guardian Frogfucious. He missed his mentor dearly, not having seen him in several weeks. To make matters worse, Chef Torte was not exactly a trustworthy companion, and Mallow would have to keep his eyes and ears open even more diligently now that the dishonest Terrapin had met his old accomplice. True, the Apprentice did not seem all that dangerous, but appearances can be deceiving, as the Nimbian Prince well knew.
By this time Mallow had taken little sleep, for fear of his dreams and awe of the ever increasing stars. Great Belrian in the northern sky shined forth with brightness untold by the ancient legends, a mighty warrior clad in mail of indestructible rings. Further east, but just as high in the Heavens, the stars traced the fair pattern of the Maiden of Hadlian, a Mushroomer healer lost while saving the life of a fallen soldier. South ways, the glittering shield of the Adurn, an olden race of Koopas, gleamed and shivered over the cool mist of a cloud embankment.
Mallow could not help but wonder at times if the old tales were true. They seemed too epic, too ideal for the clumsy deeds of his time that had thus far come to pass. Long before the Second Falling of Doomstar and the rise of King Morton, the legends had been spun immortal, and now only sung and dreamed about by the young mariner. But who is to question the worth of one’s time? No one but the highest and most glorious may foretell the coming of greatness or of sacrifice in dire need.
It was around these evanescent thoughts that Mallow finally sought his well-deserved rest. But even as his eyes crept close, the sound of wood being smote cracked against his head, and he awoke with a start. Who he found in front of him was perhaps the most profound epiphany of the night.
“Ryanoshi!” Mallow exclaimed, willing drowsiness away as the image of the familiar Yoster thwapping his heavy tail against the crow’s nest grew clearer. “What in the Stars’ names are you doing here?”
“That is no way to greet an old friend, my dear Mallow,” Ryanoshi replied, crossing his arms in a look of mock reprobation. “And you seem so surprised to see me. Has it really been that long?”
“It has, unfortunately,” said Mallow, smiling amicably. “I do not know how you came to find me, but it is a most pleasant occurrence that I could not have dreamed for.”
The pair embraced, but then Ryanoshi looked full into the face of his comrade, knowing well what grievous news he bore. It would not be easy to relate, but the truth had to revealed before Kamek was spoken of.
“My strong friend, I now must quell your joy with a most unhappy message. The Western portion of the Mushroom Kingdom has been assailed by the forces of an agent known as Raul. His armies are now building, posed to strike at the Mushroom Village, and even now, a fallen Geno, Jinx, and Merlon rush to its aid with a portion of your own army.
“Worse yet, the Star Haven remains in tumult, and the Shadow Spirits hold power across the lands of this forsaken world. I am afraid,” Ryanoshi said, trying hard to withhold a falling tear, “that your grandfather Frogfucious was felled in battle against one of the strongest of the Enemy.”
Mallow’s face contorted, twisting and screwing up into something lost and diseased. His knees and hands hit the ground, and a great lamentation came forth that he had never spoken. His mentor dead? The one who had raised him struck down by a foe who now cornered his friends in the East?
“I am drowning,” he said at last and laid his head in his hands. “I cannot hold back this great flood, and I am sorry for the trouble.”
Rain fell from the cloudless sky in a torrential downpour, heavy and thick with the grief and the sorrow that had birthed it. For it was the curse of Mallow to make rain whenever he was sad or crying, and the storm that rolled over now was greater and more fierce than any he had ever caused.
But the tears were stopped and the rains fettered. Flying behind Ryanoshi was the glowing form of Kamek, an angelic frame of holiness despite of all of his past transgressions. Mallow lifted his chin, and the Yoster smiled. The words of Kamek were loving, but haste and urgency rang within their meaning.
“Rise, Prince Mallow, and take up your staff. Frogfucious was wise in life and would not have you waste tears on his death. For the time has now come when the trials and tribulations of you and your friends will decide the ending or the beginning anew of all life on Plit.”
“Kamek,” Mallow said through understanding. “How is this possible? You have been made again.”
“You know in the purity of your heart that I am no longer as I was, and for that you are blessed,” said Kamek. “It was not folly that you were chosen for this task, and now I am convinced.”
Kamek incited Mallow to stand and face the captain’s cabin. “Retrieve Chef Torte, and I shall counsel you with that which I may.”
~*~*~*~
Chef Torte and his Apprentice continued to talk long into the night, catching up on all the lost time between the two of them. They began to weave their evil web of lies and deceit, planning for the gain of treasure and the ultimate betrayal of Mallow. True, Chef Torte did most of the planning, but the Apprentice readily agreed with any and all ideas belonging to his Master after a good swift kick or two in the seat of the pants.
“Now listen, my dear Apprentice,” Chef Torte began, pacing back and forth in front of his Terrapin protégé. “Zhis iz zhe chance moi... I mean... ve haf been vaiting for. I haf already got us in cahoots vhiz zhe gullible Nimbian. Ve shall carry on as before, helpful and sincere as a gentleman’s lady, or perhaps a lady’s gentleman: vhichever you prefer.”
The bumbling Terrapin stopped himself in midstride, looking back at his audience of one. “Vhat vas moi’s point again?”
“About that,” said the Apprentice nervously. “I wasn’t really listening. You see, I couldn’t decide whether I preferred lady’s gentleman or gentleman’s lady.”
“Zhat iz because you are IDIOT!” Chef Torte exclaimed.
So the conversation between the two maniacal misfits went on very much as it had before: wayward, insensible, and for the most part completely incoherent. They actually got only a smatter of their elusive schemes cleared and approved, for while one was rambling on in a confused muddling, the other was dreaming of his own ambitions. It was not until the hours of early morning began to approach that Chef Torte finally started to lay out a semi-solid plan.
“Zhe only zhing ve haf to verry about iz zhat incomparable Eldstar. If ve can find a vay to slip past his nets, zhen zhat vould be zhe perfect time to make our daring escape. Moi ist sure zhat by zhe time such an opportunity reveals itself, ve vill haf found more zhan enough treasure to satisfy our voracious appetites.”
“But Master,” the Apprentice stuttered, “wouldn’t it be hard to carry all that treasure around without Mallow knowing it? He’ll suspect our intentions.”
“Ve von’t actually port zhe stuff around, you idiot! Ve vill just ask for chances to do a little exploring now and zhen and mark any places vhere ve find treasure. Zhat vay, afteir ve skip zhe boat, ve can retrace our devilish steps and reclaim zhe bounty.”
The Apprentice had to admit, it sounded like a clever enough way of coming out on top, but he would be the last to say that there were not any serious problems weighing on his mind. “I’m just not sure we’ll be able to escape the eyes of Eldstar. And even if we do abscond with the Yoshi's gold, he’ll find us afterwards and punish us.”
“Yes, but I vill punish you now if you don’t agree vhiz me, so pick zhe betteir of zhe two scenarios and go vhiz it, my capricious Apprentice,” Chef Torte warned.
Needless to say, the Apprentice quickly praised his Master’s plan by several vigorous nods of approval. There was only one other question he needed to ask, and then he could hopefully get some sleep. “Where do you want us to land?”
“Hmm,” Chef Torte considered. “Moi has not yet given much zought to zhat.”
The Apprentice fell to the floor and groaned miserably, tripping over his own anxiety to get Chef Torte out of his cabin. “Oh, ve’ll just head for Yoshi’s Island, you big baby. Now come on, get up off of zhe floor and vamoose.”
“But,” started the Apprentice, “this is my bunk.”
Chef Torte glared threateningly at the opposite Terrapin, clinching his left fist around the handle of the PAN OF POWER. “You, my Apprentice, vill sleep in zhe guest room and like it. Zhis vill be MOI’s bed and zhere is NOZHING you can do about it.”
“Fine,” the Apprentice resigned and stumbled drowsily out of the room.
He clambered down the seemingly interminable hallway to the guest cabin, barely managing to keep his head from lolling off into dreamland. In the background, his incorrigible Master was belting off a few out-of-pitch tunes.
Oh, it’s a vonderful day to be a Torte,
A vonderful day, indeed.
You vake up from bed and scratch your
head,
And know zhat your brain is keen.
You’re sailing zhe seas on zhe ocean
blue,
You’re searching afar and vide.
And if anyvone gets in your vay,
You’ll skin zheir dirty hide!
Yes, you’ll skin zheir dirty hide!
Oh, it’s a vonderful night to be a Torte,
A vonderful night, assured.
You prowl zhe lands and comb zhe sands,
And know zhat you’ve endured.
You’re bringing zhe gold back home
vhiz you,
You’re making a tidy sum.
And if anyvone gets in your vay,
You’ll pound zhem into chum!
Yes, you’ll pound zhem into chum!
“Groovylicious!” the demented chef exclaimed. “Zhat vone vill sell a million vhen I release my debut album: Vhy Moi Ist Betteir Zhan You.”
The Apprentice continued on his way, but before he was able to twist the doorknob that opened into his cabin, he thought he overheard three faint voices coming from above deck, and two of them did not belong to Mallow.
Understandably curious, the furtive Terrapin slinked surreptitiously to the bottom of the stairwell that led up onto the main deck. After straining his ears considerably, the Apprentice was able to recognize at least one of the voices. But try though he might, he was unable to place the voice with a familiar face, but he knew something was definitely up, and it was probably for the worse.
“Oh, my,” he whispered excitedly. “Master Torte will not like this one bit. I’d better go warn him.”
So the Apprentice crept slowly back to Chef Torte’s door and knocked softly upon it. He wiped a smattering of perspiration from his nervous brow and tried again, hoping to the Stars that the Terrapin within would not overreact.
His silent prayers were not answered, however, and before long the loud and intensely frustrated voice of Chef Torte boomed from behind the door. “Vhat iz it already? Zhe door ist open!”
“Master,” the Apprentice pleaded quietly, “lower your voice. There are two strange people outside conversing with the Nimbian. They’ll hear you.”
In the blink of an eye, the door swung open, and the Apprentice was dragged in quite unceremoniously by the hand of Chef Torte. “Vhat? Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir,” said the Apprentice. “I even recognize one of the voices, but I cannot remember who it belongs to.”
“You dapple-brained dunderhead!” Chef Torte screamed. “Come on, let us see who it ist zhat you know but don’t know.”
The Apprentice led Chef Torte to the bottom of the stairs and bade him listen carefully for the two strange voices. Almost immediately, the chef’s eyes grew large and he blurted out an untimely whisper. “Zhings haf just turned souz for zhe vinteir. Zhat voice belongs to Kamek, and zhe ozeir to... somevone. But moi iz sure boz of zhem are not people ve vant to be meeting.”
“Then what are we going to do?” the Apprentice asked under a low whine. “I don’t want to be put in jail!”
“Kamek vill do a lot more zhan put you in jail, Apprentice,” said Chef Torte. “He’ll turn you into a frog and zhen squash you into a gelatin snack!”
“But I hate gelatin snacks,” said the Apprentice, snuffling pitifully. “And frogs give me the willies.”
“I’ll give you zhe villies,” Chef Torte promised, “if you don’t shape up. Now, vhere ist zhe exit ramp to zhe life boats? Ve must abandon ship before zhey catch us.”
“I can’t leave my boat unmanned in the harbor,” said the Apprentice with a moronic concern. “That would be illegal!”
After the Apprentice got a significantly large face full of PAN OF POWER, Chef Torte stepped over his unconscious body and looked around anxiously. “Vhere did you put zhe lower deck passagevay, you idiot?!”
Regretting his sporadic decision to pummel the Apprentice, Chef Torte shook the fool of a Terrapin awake and made him reveal the direction to the secret hold that opened out onto the side of the ship. Immediately after giving up this gem of information, though, the cowardly Apprentice soon resumed his complaining and harbingers of woe. Chef Torte solved the problem a second time by dealing out yet another whack from his pan weapon across the Terrapin’s head.
“Now zhat zhat iz settled,” thought Chef Torte to himself, “onvard I go.”
The culinary master hefted his servant onto his own shoulders and made his way down a hidden staircase, eventually coming to a square door elevated several inches from the floor and shut tight by two solid hinges, a chain lock, and some sort of filling putty. He activated his PAN OF POWER’s heat weapon and melted the putty; it was the work of a second to undo the keyless lock. The rusted hinges squeaked open, and the chef, Apprentice in hand, jumped out.
To his utter surprise, instead of landing in the dry confines of a safe life boat, Chef Torte and his comatose burden plunged into the briny sea, splashing and flapping about like two landed fish. His heart wrathful and full of anger, the chef promptly began to beat the living daylights out of his companion, subjecting him to blow after blow from his PAN OF POWER.
Somewhere amid the frantic screams of the Apprentice and the foreign curses of Chef Torte, the passengers on deck reacted. Floating on a broom and smiling before them was the solemn image of Kamek, who treated them to a knowing sigh. He hauled the two of them by the scruff of their collars, flinging them roughly onto the upper deck.
“Fools!” Kamek burst aloud. “Where were you going?”
“Vell,” Chef Torte began, “ve vere going to skip town, but my idiot Apprentice did not tell moi zhat zhere vere no life boats attached to zhe ship!”
“Wait just a minute here,” said the Apprentice, attempting to defend himself. “You only asked me where the passageway was. How was I supposed to know that you were actually planning to get in a life boat?”
Chef Torte almost exploded right then and there. “IDIOT, FOOL, SIMPLETON! Did you zhink moi vas just going for a nice in-zhe-middle-of-chaos-svim? Vhat ist vrong vhiz you?”
“Enough!” Kamek shouted. “You are both bitter, cowardly Koopas, and you do not deserve the life that you are given so freely. Nevertheless, Chef Torte, you have been chosen to serve as Mallow’s second companion on his journey, through death or living.”
“Moi vill tell you vhat I zhink about zha...” He stopped. “Did you zay second? I zought I vas his only companion! Don’t tell me the Apprentice has been chosen by Eldstar, too. And how did you know about zhat? You’re evil!”
“Nay,” said Kamek. “I have been reborn as the Savior of Plit in this time of sorrow, and I had impersonated Eldstar so that you would not fear my counsel. Now, though, all the cloaks on our side must be lifted between us, and only the secrets of the Enemy remain hidden.”
“Vhateveir,” said Chef Torte. “Ve are out of here.”
“Do not deny the fate that you been assigned!” Kamek said, and his voice was fierce and deep. The sound of thunder and the roll of an avalanche pealed across the sky, and all was left an unsettling silence. “You have been chosen, and your path may not be altered.”
While the Apprentice soiled his linens, Chef Torte was replete with contempt and jealousy of Kamek’s words. He would fulfill his duties, alright, and then take the treasure after everyone else was convinced. There was no change of plan, only delay. “I undeirstand.”
“Good,” said Kamek, knowing indeed that Chef Torte was still very much untrustworthy and hateful. “Your companions await.”
Chef Torte looked with indifference at Mallow but brought himself to shed a crooked grin. When the second of his fellow travelers appeared, though, he could not hold back the flood of rage that coursed through his system. “Ryanoshi,” he said grimly and growled.
Ryanoshi returned the acknowledgement with an ill-favored look and snorted contemptuously. “Fancy seeing you here,” he said, even though he already knew, of course, what awaited him on the Ellie.
“Zhis iz going to be a long trip,” said Chef Torte and never once lifted his hand from the handle of the PAN OF POWER.
~*~*~*~
The noontime bell rang, and the animosities between Yoster and Terrapin were quelled for the moment, even though their source remained uncovered.
“My time with you grows short,” said Kamek at last, sitting quietly at the far end of a dinner table in the galley. “You shall now hear all that I am able to tell you on the matter of your quest. May you take the words wisely and use them all the same.
“Long have the cavernous passes of the Dark Mines been the home of a terrible secret. Deep under the vat of the Soda Lake and lost in the forsaken mazes under the foundation of Bowser’s forgotten fortress lies the Globe of Tirien. It is an artifact that contains an ancient power, the soul of an evil beast beyond the might of imagination that once roamed the hills and plains of Plit when they were still desolate and bare.
“A great hero learned in the ways of sorcery entrapped the fell demon in a Kithein globe, unbreakable beyond the ending of Plit. Thus was the Globe of Tirien formed, and to this day it remains unfound in the unhallowed bowels of the Dark Mines. Servants of the Enemy, Raul, the one whom walks among us, have departed to claim it for their master. They are strong and mighty with an ill army at their feet, but you have the advantage of knowing where to look.
“You must also know that the great fleet of the Koopa Army has departed. Five Koopalings and the Admiral Jade carry Raul’s evil across the planet, and whither they will show, I know not.”
“This task is nigh impossible,” said Ryanoshi. “Though I suppose we are the only ones left to complete it, and it must be completed.”
“Yes,” agreed Mallow. “Into the doom and dark we shall throw ourselves until this thing is accomplished or our lives are taken.”
“Vell,” said Chef Torte haughtily, “zhat pretty much takes care of all zhe heroic lines. I suppose moi should now say somezhing humorous like, ‘Let’s get to it!’”
Kamek said nothing until he rose from his seat. “So be it. The three of you will be borne hence by the Apprentice on this fair ship. Once there, you may seek the aid of the Yoshis and traverse the vibrant lands of the Dinosaur Island. When you reach the Dark Mines, remember: the servants of our Enemy are abroad and will not let any foe stand in their way.”
“How long must we guard this item?” Ryanoshi asked.
“For as long as life remains in you while Raul is upon this earth,” replied Kamek. “This quest is not one in which victory can be attained. It is only meant to hinder the designs of the Enemy so that hope may yet prevail.”
“Where then do you go, now that you have given your counsel?” Mallow inquired, his eyes full of pity for the Magikoopa.
“I go now to confront the Great Enemy of Plit. It is certain that by his hand I shall die, but what part we truly play is unknown. For I answer to He that is higher than even the Star Spirits, and long have the plans of this last remorse been laid.”
With these final and foreboding words, Kamek departed, a sliver of wind and rain against an endless gray curtain of unavoidable grief.
~*~*~*~
Mallow wandered off alone, estranged from his new friends for a short time before they were destined to set sail. On the shores of Seaside he sang a lament for Frogfucious and raised a cairn of rocks upon a green mound tangled with fragrant flowers. He kneeled on both knees and bowed his head in prayer to the memory and the last words of his mentor, that he alone had been told of by Kamek before his departure. They rang in him the truth of which the Magikoopa had spoken, but he did not dwell on them for long. Only that which was meant for him was left to do, and to that path he would hold undyingly.
The sun was sinking low beyond the horizon for the second time during his waking hours, and the Nimbian got up to leave. “Hil silwe halmaine,” he said eternally and wept, feeling the first drops of rain splashing against his cloak. “For even now you are as my father.”