On The Toad Road
"I haven't always been old, you know," the toad said.
"So what?" said the boy.
"So you and I aren't that different." The toad looked into the boy's face and appeared to smile.
"I said I'd squash you if you didn't get out of my way," the boy said.
"But then there would be one less to look up and admire you, boy," the toad said.
"Perhaps, but maybe I'd like to squash you just for fun." The boy smiled back at the gentle old toad.
"Where are you going, boy?" The toad said.
"I seek my sister, the queen of this land." He glanced about. "I'm here to claim my rightful position in life, and my sister queen will help me."
"Angelica the Queen is your sister?" said the toad. But the boy did not answer, distracted by a small fly that buzzed and weaved about his head.
"What an annoying type of fly you have in this land, what a tiny, pesky thing," the boy said.
"That pesky thing," said the toad, "is attempting to alight on the back of your neck, to lay and egg under your skin, an egg that will hatch into a worm that will burrow up into your skull and eat your brain." The toad stopped to inspect his recent manicure.
"Get it away! Get it away! Get it away!" The boy leapt and ducked and flailed about the road.
"Eventually," the toad said calmly, "the worm will crack out of your head like it was an eggshell, leaving you, I should say, a somewhat lessened smart-mouthed boy."
"Get it away! Get it away! Get it away!" the boy pleaded, and then fell to the dirt thrashing. The toad fixed his stare on the fly and began to sway with the fly's orbits around the boy. And when the fly buzzed near, a tongue flipped, a toad jerked, and the fly was gone.
"Well there now," the toad said.
The fear-exhausted boy lay in the dirt. "Why weren't you afraid?" the boy said.
"I said the fly wanted to bite you on the neck," the toad said.
"Yes," the boy said.
"I have no neck. And besides, my skin is quite toxic to most types of living creatures. Good day, boy." Then the toad turned and strolled away.
The boy stared into the air for a moment. "Wait, wait," he said. But the toad had disappeared into a boulder strewn field.
"Oh forget it," the boy said as he got up and brushed the dust off his clothes. He decided that the fly had probably been harmless, and if they ever met again, he would thrash that toad soundly for playing such a trick on him. Then he turned his attention to the direction down the woodland path he traveled and forgot the toad.
He was journeying to the palace of his sister in the the capital city. She, a few years older than he, had become the youngest ruler ever in the land. The people, in need of a ruler, chose her because of her fame as a brave adventurer on her journeys into the Cloud Mountains. The previous king had disappeared on his own adventure, a journey into the depths of the Blue River Caverns that some thought held the Lost Earth Scrolls, the lost knowledge of the planet. For, you see, the Earth had stopped communicating with the people of the land, and the Scrolls had mysteriously disappeared. The Earth's nurturing knowledge that the people depended on was gone. No one knew when the rain would come, or the snows would fall. No one could interpret the languages of the creatures of the Earth. No one knew when the meteor showers might pummel the earth again, or if Star People of ancient legend would ever return. Because of this, these were hard and dangerous times. Some said the Earth was sleeping or ignoring the people because of past transgressions. Some said the Earth was dead. The boy cared little for such speculation. He only wanted to be free of his peasant life and his peasant parents.
As he neared the city he began to pass travelers on the path. He felt eyes upon his body, people staring. To avoid the stares he moved off the path and walked on in the nearby thickets, for his hand-fashioned clothes were made of rough cloth, suited for heavy farm work and showing the dirt and wear of long use. The boy was embarrassed by his clothes.
He stumbled along in the thicket as thorns scratched the back of his hands, and roots and rocks tangled his feet. He refused to let himself be seen for what he was. And as he walked, the boy came upon a traveler's camp. A circle of rocks held smoldering ash. A sleepy-eyed pony dozed near a cart covered with a canvas dome, a popular travel vehicle of the district. The camp was still, the traveler slept inside the cart, and on a rope strung between two trees hung clothes drying in the sun. On a branch hung a fine heavy cloak stitched with silver thread. And against a tree leaned an elaborately carved walking stick.
Without hesitation, the boy took the cloak and the walking stick and ran off through the thicket. They were the first things he had ever stolen. The exhilaration of his larceny propelled him back toward the path that led to the city.
Now as he walked along the path, he again felt eyes upon himself. But in a different way, he thought. He walked straight up and met the gazes of strangers with a gaze of his own. No one had a better cloak. The walking-stick felt fine. A deep pocket on the inside of the cloak yielded a half-loaf of hearty bread and cured meat wrapped in a cloth. He ate and laughed and had no regret.
He continued on, striding as if triumphant, down the path out of the wilderness and toward the city. As he neared the city gate, He passed vendors and merchants peddling their goods. Strange languages rose and fell, spicy smells drifted past, The sound of money clinking in peoples palms tickled the boy's ear. He admired the abundance of items that could be purchased: vegetables and breads, wild game hanging to season; tools and weapons, clothes and books, carvings and paintings, jewelry and fabrics, all finer than he had ever seen. People nodded to him as he passed, and he nodded back.
Inside the city at the palace gate he was stopped by a plain looking sentry with a very large sword hanging at his side."I'm sorry, sir," said the guard. No one can enter the Queens court without permission.
Indignantly the boy replied, "Permission? tell the Queen that Thomas has arrived. That should be enough permission." He waved the guard away lightly while tossing his gaze in another direction.
After a few minutes, a pale man dressed neatly in white returned with the guard. "Right this way," the man said. And the boy followed him into a meandering stone hall that eventually rose up a shallow staircase, emerging onto a balcony that overlooked the market area he had just came through. And standing looking out on the balcony was young woman with a face not unlike the boy's. She turned.
"Hello Thomas," she said smiling and walking with arms outstretched for embrace. The greeting was rewarded with a light squeeze on the elbow by her brother. He stepped back to speak.
"We haven't seen you in our district for so long, sister, I felt like perhaps I should come to you. See how you're doing."
"To see how I'm doing? I miss Mother and Father. They haven't responded to my invitation to come and visit me. I don't understand. But at least you did."
"Uh, yes," Thomas said. "Well the farm. They'll never leave it unattended."
"But you're here," Angelica said. "And wearing the cloak of a sorcerer, too."
.......to be continued.
