The Adventures of Philip and Sophie DOUBLE FEATURE by Drew Eldridge - HTML preview
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Chapter 23
Visions
She was expecting to hear a
voice, but it felt more like
waking from a dream. Sophie
gasped, winced and jostled!
When she looked around, she
realized she was no longer in
the temple. Instead, she was
hovering high up above it.
From here, she was shown a
glimpse into the future.
First, she saw the Dragon
King’s army. It had grown even
larger. They marched into
every village along the coast,
burned them down and loaded all the survivors onto slave ships. Sophie watched helplessly as her mother, Motumbo and Narissa were dragged away in chains. Never had she felt so heartbroken before! Her precious village square, which was once so lively and beautiful, was now a deso-late wasteland.
Next, in the blink of an eye, she was transported to another place. This time, to a battle#eld! The Dragon King’s army had travelled over the sea. One by one, they raided and plundered the kingdoms of the world.
It was always the same strategy. First, he’d send his dragon to scorch everything. Then, he’d send his soldiers.
Sometimes, the Dragon King didn’t even have to attack.
He’d just pay the other kings for their crowns. Or, he would pay their armies to switch sides. It wasn’t long until there were no kingdoms left at all. They all belonged to him. The Dragon King sat on the throne of the whole world!
But then Sophie began to wonder. Something just 155
didn’t seem right. Why was God showing her this? She wasn’t a queen. She wasn’t a soldier. What did this have to do with her question? And that’s when she was given the third part of her vision.
Suddenly, the Dragon King and his armies vanished.
She was transported back in time to her island, before the invasion. Now she realized that God hadn’t really been showing her the future. He’d been showing her a possible future—what would happen if she didn’t do the thing He wanted. What then did He want her to do? She looked around curiously for the clues . . . until she noticed where she was standing.
“OoOoh . . .” she thought, holding her belly. Suddenly, she wasn’t feeling so well again. She was right at the entrance of the Dragon King’s mountain fortress! The black gates started creaking open. A lantern with a sparkly white #ame appeared in her hand.
“OoOoh . . . I have a bad feeling about this.” She took a deep breath and gulped. Slowly, she tip-toed inside.
The corridors of the fortress were dark and eerie.
Worse, they were full of traps, trip wires and armed guards. But our heroine saw the traps. She slipped past every trip wire. Calmly and patiently, she waited until exactly the right moments when the guards’ backs would be turned. As quiet as a mouse, she scurried by. Even when she came to the courtyard, which was full of soldiers, she walked right across without being noticed and up the stairs.
Last was the door to the throne room. There were two guards this time. Next to them, was a wall of keys.
Choosing the wrong one would set o$ an alarm. How could she possibly get by? But our heroine solved this puzzle too. She distracted the guards, found the key and quietly snuck in.
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“So that’s what my powers are for,” she realized. “I’m supposed to use them to get inside. But once I’m in, what do I do?” She took another deep breath and kept going.
The Dragon King’s throne room reminded her of the temple—only, everything was backwards. Instead of sunlight, beautiful things and comfortable places to pray, it was black, gloomy and full of torture devices. Instead of a golden book upon an altar, there was a giant golden chair next to a most unholy-looking dinner table. The only light coming in was from a small hole in the middle of the ceiling. Sophie walked directly into the beam and planted her feet there, "rmly. She looked up at the Dragon King, who suddenly took notice of her.
He was the scariest man she had ever seen. His armor was thick, spikey and dyed red with blood. His helmet $ared out with two bull horns coming out the sides. It was too dark to see his eyes, but she could feel them glaring 157
hatefully on her. Then, he
stood up and slowly started
walking down the stairs. So‐
phie felt like running away, but
she didn’t. Instead, she tight‐
ened her grip around the
lantern and stood her ground.
Little did she know, it was
about to get even scarier. From
the shadows, three more villains emerged.
The "rst of the three was a
troll named Choada. He
looked like a giant toad,
walking on hind legs. His
mouth was enormous, with
hundreds of razer-sharp teeth.
He had a long tongue inside
that could snap out, quickly
wrap around his enemies, and
pull them in. Choada was in
charge of the Dragon King’s slaves. As he followed him down the stairs, he drew a whip and scowled at Sophie like he was going to lash her with it. Again, Sophie felt like running. But she still didn’t move.
Next came Kanga Kang—a mu‐
tant kangaroo with attitude! He was in charge of weighing and selling all the drugs the slaves produced. He
wore black sunglasses, a long gold
chain and two bright red boxing
gloves with barbed wire wrapped
around them. The way he kept
smiling down at Sophie as he walked,
pounding his "sts together, made her heart race even faster.
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Zeetan was the last of the
three. By all appearances, he
seemed like an ordinary gorilla.
But if you looked carefully, you
could see something was very,
very wrong. His eyes were
crossed. His tongue was
hanging from his mouth, along
with heaps of drool. That
meant a Klandeathuan Brain‐
worm had gotten into its head.
Sophie had read about them
once. They entered through
the nose or ear and lodged
themselves behind their vic‐
tim’s eyes. From there, they could control someone like a puppet. Zeetan was the Dragon King’s head interrogator and torturer. He carried a mallet and sickle. Did he want to hurt Sophie? Or did he want to slither into her brain next? She didn’t know which would be worse!
Our heroine stood quivering and shivering, clinging to the lantern the same way she had the rope swing that afternoon. What was she supposed to do now? Give them the lantern? They didn’t seem interested. Fight them? Sophie had never been in a #ght before. She wasn’t prepared for that. They closed in on her. The Dragon King drew his big sword! He raised it above his head, ready to strike! Sophie panicked. Was this it? Was this the end? She closed her eyes and braced herself for her doom!
Just then, the most surprising thing of all happened.
The four villains suddenly froze and turned their attention to something else. A horn sounded in the distance!
She heard footsteps hurrying behind her! She wasn’t alone after all! Someone was coming to help! But who?
Before it occurred to her to turn and look, he was already there, fearlessly at her side. It was a boy! And he had a 159
sword of his own! Drawing it, he got between the villains and Sophie. They all took a step back, feeling just as surprised as she was.
“Who was this boy?” our heroine wondered. It was too dark to see his face under his hood. She felt like she knew him from somewhere.
Then everything clouded over. Sophie started feeling sleepy and dizzy. The next thing she knew, she was back in her church again, kneeling before the alter. It took her a moment to realize what had just happened. But when she did, she spun around and called out to her priest.
160 “Jean-Pierre! Jean-Pierre! Guess what! You’ll never
“Jean-Pierre! Jean-Pierre! Guess what! You’ll never believe what—”
However, the priest was gone. She looked down the staircase. The front doors were open. Everyone was coming in. Jean-Pierre was busy greeting them.
“Oh . . .”
Then Sophie noticed the music playing. She twirled around once more and saw her father sitting at the organ.
He smiled and waved. She waved back awkwardly. It made her wonder how long she must have been out for.
“Hey!” cried Narissa. She came from behind Sophie, spooking her.
“Eek!”
“What are you doing!?”
“Hmm?”
Sophie was still a little dreamy.
“Here! Put this on!” Narissa was holding a pretty, pink cloak. “It’s your turn to be the Light Bearer today, remember!?”
“It is?”
Narissa put it on her without even answering.
“You must have forgotten!”
She took her hand and hauled her down the stairs.
“But . . . Narissa . . . I need to tell you something.
Something happened! I need to tell you! I—”
“Hush!” answered her friend, covering her mouth.
“Whatever it is, you can tell me later. It’s going to start any moment.”
“MmMmMm!”
“Now, move it! Let’s go!”
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Sophie’s New Enterprise
It was hard for Sophie to help Jean-Pierre that day. All she could think about was her vision. When the time came to pick up the crystal chalice, she nearly knocked it over. As she tipped it into people’s mouths, she’d spill some down their shirts.
“O-o-oops,” she said, trembling. “S-s-sorry.”
It was even harder at Jonathan and Beth’s wedding.
Forgetting that she’d volunteered to be the singer, the procession ended up being severely delayed. Any longer, and it might have been cancelled. Fortunately, Narissa found Sophie just in time and hurried her on stage. But as she sang, her voice kept cracking. She stuttered, caught the hiccups and even forgot some of the words. Embarrassed, our heroine pointed to her cup and pretended to giggle, suggesting that it must have been something in Mr. Stanley’s famous fruit punch. Everyone listening giggled along with her. But not Narissa. She knew her friend too well. Sophie would never forget the words like that.
Not at a wedding. Something had to have been very wrong.
As soon as Sophie was free, Narissa pulled her aside.
They went behind the temple and sat in the grass. Sophie told her everything, and Narissa believed every word without question. They agreed she should tell her father and Jean-Pierre right away.
They spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get them together to talk. But with the wedding party, baby shower and anniversary going on, at least one of them was always too busy. Eventually, they realized they’d just have to wait.The villagers partied late into the night. There were games, prizes and even #reworks. When the music started, all the little boys lined up to ask our heroine for a dance.
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But she wasn’t in the mood. Narissa grabbed a broom and chased them away.
Of course, the party only really got started when Motumbo arrived, for he was the best dancer of all. Everyone cheered and chanted his name. Wives took turns getting lifted up and spun around by him. The children begged for lessons.
There were many funny songs sung and speeches given. Everyone was falling sideways and backwards in gales of laughter. In her heart, our heroine felt like laughing along with them. But she couldn’t. Instead, she kept looking at the clock, praying desperate little prayers under her breath, waiting as patiently as she could for the two men to be free.
Finally, it happened. She saw them sit down to relax.
They were even at the same table. Quickly, she dashed over to meet them. “Father!” she cried. “Jean-Pierre! I need to talk to you, right away!” Unfortunately, a dark cloud formed the moment she arrived. Lightning "ashed.
Thunder covered the sound of her voice. Then it started pouring rain, and the villagers all scattered. She lost Jean-Pierre in the crowd. Standing there soaking wet, she realized she had no choice. She would have to tell them one at a time for now, beginning with her father.
The clock struck midnight when they were #nally alone. As usual, they were up way past their bed times in his workshop together. Sophie sat in deep thought, wondering how to begin.
“Everything okay over there?” her father asked, peeking his head up over his science books. “You’ve been staring out that window for quite some time now. Even on the way home, you were quiet.” He closed the books.
Then he put them down on his desk. “Something troubling you?”
“I didn’t want to tire out Mother more, that’s all . . .”
she sighed.
163
Sophie looked back out the window. It was still raining. She could see the candle in her mother’s bedroom
#ickering. Slowly, it was getting dimmer and dimmer.
Suddenly, she didn’t feel like talking about her vision anymore.
“We didn’t have to take the long way home tonight, you know,” she continued. “It was pouring. We shouldn’t have gone.”
“Well,” her father answered. “You know how stubborn your mother can be.”
“I just don’t understand,” said Sophie. “We’ve tried everything. But her illness . . . it keeps getting worse.
Every day, she seems to be getting tireder. If you hadn’t been there to carry her tonight, she might not have made it back home.”
Sophie’s father lit his pipe and poured a cup of red wine. He took a pu$ and sip. Then he leaned back in his chair, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“Yeah . . .” he sighed sadly. “But there is still hope. I just need a little more time, that’s all. Until then, we’ll just have to be there to carry her sometimes, won’t we?”
Sophie nodded.
Now Sophie was sure she didn’t want to talk about her vision, for if she did, she knew she would just start crying. Besides, it was getting late. Her father probably wanted to go to bed soon. She looked down at her feet and frowned. Maybe she should just wait until morning . . .
“I know,” said her father, trying to cheer her up.
Quickly, he %nished his wine and put away his pipe.
“Why don’t you come over here? I can show you what I’ve been working on.” He sprung out of his chair and threw on his lab coat. But Sophie didn’t seem interested.
“I may not have found the cure yet,” he continued.
“But I’ve made some very interesting discoveries along the way.” Reaching under the table, he pulled out a rack of 164
test tubes. “The answer, I believe, is in somehow combining these four. The only problem is how . . .” He peeked over again, but she still hadn’t moved. “Who knows . . .” he added, “if we put our heads together . . . we might just be able to solve it . . .”
Very, very slowly, reader, our heroine started sagging o# her stool. Dragging her feet, she wallowed over, put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her $sts, pouting like a sad, wet puppy.
“That’s the spirit,” he answered. “Now, take a look at this one . . .”
Her father handed her the $rst test tube. Inside was a dark blue liquid. The glass was so cold, she could hardly hold it.
“What is it?” she asked, peering inside. But he didn’t answer. “Some kind of . . . blueberry slushy?”
“Well, there is only one way to $nd out.”
Sophie looked at him suspiciously and sni#ed it. Then she took a small sip. Whatever it was, it tasted just like one. But shortly after, Sophie started to feel odd. A strange sensation fell over her. A shiver went down her spine. She felt cool all over, like she had just jumped into a lake. Yet she was completely dry. The only other time she felt that was when touching a blue crystal. But this was di#erent. It seemed to be spreading throughout her whole body.“Can you guess the secret ingredient?” her father asked, smiling.
Sophie was so amazed her spectacles nearly %ew o#
her face.
“I say! How did you do that?” she exclaimed. “Somehow . . . you made the crystals digestible!”
“Oh, it wasn’t so di&cult,” her father answered. “A little of this. A sprinkle of that. Counter-reverse the polarities—and voila—you’ve got yourself a blue crystal potion.
Doesn’t taste so bad either,” he continued, taking a sip 165
himself. “This will cure sunstroke, heat exhaustion and reduce scarring if you put it on a burn. Not only that, but just one sip will hydrate you for hours.”
Sophie felt refreshed and replenished, like she’d just drunk a big glass of cool water. Her father carefully put it back. She couldn’t help wondering what the others would do.
“How about this one?” she asked next, picking up the red. It was warm to the touch.
“That cures hypothermia and frostbite.”
Sophie sni"ed no less cautiously before trying some.
“Why . . . that tastes like . . . apple-cinnamon tea!”
“It was either going to be that or cherry pie,” her father replied. “But the cherries didn’t fuse well with the red crystals.”
He pointed to the corner of the room where there were several vials that looked like they’d exploded. Sophie gulped, feeling grateful she hadn’t been there when it happened.
The red potion had the opposite e"ect from the blue.
After drinking some, Sophie felt warm and fuzzy inside—
like curling up next to a $replace on a cold winter’s day. It was so delicious that it was hard to stop drinking. But soon she started to sweat. Fanning herself, she quickly handed it back to him.
“And this one?” she asked next, reaching for the yellow. But before she got to it, her father grabbed her wrist.
“Careful—” he said. “That one hasn’t been perfected yet.”“What do you mean?” Sophie asked nervously.
Her father picked it up instead. Immediately, static electricity surged through his body. All of the hairs on his head stood up. Our heroine couldn’t help giggling.
“You’re not going to drink any?” she teased.
“Not at this time of night,” he answered.
166 “Why not?” she asked, peeking inside. “What does
“Why not?” she asked, peeking inside. “What does it do?”
“Well . . . do you remember the time we ate all those chocolate co"ee beans?”
“Yes . . .”
“That’s what this potion does!”
Sophie giggled some more.
“But it also cures paralysis of a jelly#sh sting. A con-centrated dose may even be able to restart someone’s heart. Zap—just like that.” As he said this, some lightning happened to %ash outside. The thunder made her jump.
“Eek!”
She huddled close to him.
“But too much,” her father chuckled, “will make you dizzy. It’s tart and #zzy—a little like lemon soda. But it doesn’t have any sugar, so it won’t rot your teeth.”
He put it down and his hair returned to normal.
Lastly, he picked up the green.
“And this one is just for health and healing. One sip is like eating a whole bag of green vegetables. It’ll make headaches go away and is a perfect antidote to poisonous snake bites. I haven’t chosen a %avor yet,” he added, sipping it. “But it’s this one that’s most promising for your mother.”
“They’re incredible,” Sophie marveled. “Truly . . .”
“I just wish I had more books,” he sighed putting it back down. “But with the Dragon King’s new laws, it’s been impossible to order any. We’ll just have to do the best we can with what we have, right?”
Sophie rested her head back on her #sts and nodded.
“Besides, we still have time,” he continued. “There’s all summer. I’ve added a small laboratory on the ship I’ve been building. See?” He pulled the blueprint out of his back pocket and pointed to it. “And even if we don’t #gure it out by then, there is always this winter at our new home.”
Her father looked down at Sophie and smiled. But 167
Sophie didn’t smile back. Instead, she seemed to completely lose interest again. She sighed and slowly dragged her feet back to the window.
Our heroine realized she couldn’t delay any longer.
She had to tell him. He had to know the truth. She only wished it wasn’t so hard to say.
“What’s wrong, Sophie?” he asked.
Finally, she let it out.
“Father . . .” she said trembling. “There is something . . . I need to tell you.”
Feeling very concerned, he reached for his chair and rolled it over to the window where she was standing. He didn’t say anything, but just sat down and listened carefully.
“Something . . . happened to me today.”
She turned around. Never had he seen her so heartbroken before.
“What happened?” he asked gently.
“Well . . .” she began, lowering her eyes. “On the way to church, I was feeling worried about things. So, I went a little early and talked to Jean-Pierre. I wanted to know what God wanted me to do, and he told me I should just ask Him. So, he took me to the alter and I did.”
When Sophie looked up again, she was surprised by the expression on her father’s face. Suddenly, he was wild-eyed and completely still. He wasn’t blinking or even breathing. The only other time she would see him with that expression was at the end of a science experiment.
“A-a-and?” he stuttered curiously.
“And . . .”
Sophie tried to think of the best way of saying it. But the more she remembered, the more she felt all those tears coming on. So, she decided to just blurt it out before it was too late.
“And . . . I don’t think we’re going anywhere this fall.”
168 “What do you mean?” His expression changed from
“What do you mean?” His expression changed from curious to confused. “Sophie . . . what did you see?”
“God gave me a vision. He showed me what happens.
We don’t escape. There is no voyage. The Dragon King burns it all down. He sinks the island into the ocean and captures everyone as slaves! Then . . . he takes over the whole world. The WHOLE world! Unless . . .” Sophie gasped.
“Unless what?”
“Unless . . . I . . . stand up to him.”
Slowly, Sophie’s father leaned back in his chair. He didn’t say anything but just sat there looking confused.
Our heroine waited patiently until he was ready to answer.
“Well,” he said slowly. “What about me?” He pushed his spectacles back into place. “Was I with you?”
“No. You weren’t,” Sophie answered. “I didn’t see you anywhere. And that’s a part of what scares me . . .”
“Oh . . .”
Now he just looked disappointed.
“But I wasn’t alone.”
“You weren’t?”
“There was someone else with me.”
“Someone else?”
Sophie nodded. Her father noticed that she didn’t look scared anymore either. If anything, she looked relieved.
“Who?” he asked.
“A boy.”
“A boy?” he chuckled. Quickly, he thought of all the boys he knew in the village—anyone who could possibly make her feel safe in a situation so dire. But none came to mind. “What boy?” he answered, perplexed.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “But he had a big sword . . . and looked very brave . . .”
“Oh . . .”
Hearing this relieved Sophie’s father. He took a deep 169
breath, stood up and slowly started pacing around the room, thinking.
“Father . . . what are we going to do?” Sophie asked.
She got on her tippy toes and peered out the window again. “Should we warn everyone? Should we go looking for this boy? After church, I tried going back and asking God to tell me more. But nothing happened. I don’t understand. Why won’t He answer? Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no,” he replied. “That isn’t how it works. You’ve done everything you need to for now. God told you what He wanted you to know. If He doesn’t tell you more, you can be sure there is a reason.” As Sophie listened, she couldn’t help wondering what that reason might be. “Remember, it’s His story you’re in, not one of your own.” He pointed to all her props, which lay scattered around the workshop. “He is in control. We are merely the actors in it. Sometimes we just need to be patient and give Him time to tell it.”
“So, we do nothing then?” Sophie asked.
“No, not nothing.”
“Then what?”
“Well,” her father answered. “We get ready. The same way we would for any other part we play. Only this is for real. Remember, if this vision is true, then it’s a part of what He created you for. He’s been preparing you for it ever since you were little. Trust Him . . . keep listening . . .
remember your lines. Be watchful for the cues—and when it’s your turn to enter the stage, step up. Speak them well.
God will be with you.”
Sophie nodded, but didn’t seem nearly as enthusiastic.
“And what about you . . .” she squeaked, sni#ing.
“Won’t you . . . and Mother be with me?”
They’d always been there for her plays in the past. If not alongside her, they were in the audience watching and 170
clapping. Her father knelt down in front of her then. He reached out and took her hand.
“We’ll always be with you, Sophie.”
She leaped into his arms and hugged him tightly.
Our heroine went to bed that night feeling like whatever chapter she was in was over. Tomorrow, she would wake up and see what God had planned for her next. She snuggled up to Samson, who was already fast asleep, and blew out the last candle. But just as she was closing her eyes, she heard a terrible sound in the distance. The Dragon King’s war drums started beating. There were battle cries and trumpets. This chapter may have been ending, but another was clearly beginning somewhere else. Quickly, she put her hands together. With all her heart, she prayed that everyone would be safe that night . . . that she would continue getting signs and hints about what to do, and most of all, that wherever that mysterious boy was, God would be helping him get ready too.
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The Sword of the Dragon King
The people of Nibelheim weren’t the only ones planning to escape. By then, everyone along the coast was, for the Dragon King’s laws had become so strict, you could hardly even breathe without breaking them. Nowhere was this made clearer than in the village of Beville that night.
As usual, he began by sending his dragon. Like a storm, it "ew in and wreaked havoc, lighting all the buildings on $re. The smoke that rose from the ashes blinded and choked everyone, causing them to panic and run into the streets. That’s when the soldiers poured in.
Choada the troll led the $rst wave, using his long tongue to snatch anyone who dared to run. Kanga Kang’s army followed shortly after. Carefully, he gathered and weighed the booty. Zeetan led his army to the village temple. With his big hammer, he smashed it to pieces and knocked down the statues. The survivors were brought to what was left of the village square. Finally, the Dragon King himself emerged, walking right through the "ames, his scary red armor glowing like hot coals.
“WHERE IS HE?” he thundered, glaring at them.
“WHERE IS HE?”
But they were all too frightened to answer. Slowly, he took o% his helmet, revealing long, greasy black hair and a battle-scarred face. He was missing one eye—as well as many of his teeth. His expression was grim and menacing.
“I said . . . where . . . is . . . he?”
No one could decide whether he was scarier with his helmet on or o%. He crossed his arms and scanned the crowd. Eventually, he found who he was looking for.
“Look! There he is, m’lord!” said Kanga Kang. The kangaroo pointed to some soldiers coming around a corner, dragging an old man with a long, grey beard. “They 172
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found’m underground! Cheeky buggas! Musta’ been hidin’m!”
“Good . . .” sighed the Dragon King, with a most sinister smile. “Bring him to me . . .”
Kanga Kang hopped over to the old man and boxed him in the stomach. “Hass-ah!” Then, he spun around and kicked him. “Hass-ah!” The elder #ew forward, landing head $rst in the mud. The Dragon King pointed and laughed with all his soldiers—“Muah! Hah, hah, hah!”—
before beginning what may sound like a familiar speech.
“Liars!” he yelled, raising his arms. “Traitors! Thieves!
How dare they break the law! How dare they! We’ve tried to be nice! We’ve tried to be patient! Look how we’re treated in return!”
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The poor people of Beville looked at each other just as confused as everyone else who’d been invaded that week.
Laws? They didn’t remember breaking any laws.
Only the elder was brave enough to speak up.
“What are you talking about?” he said, coughing up dirt. “What crimes have we committed? There must be some mistake. We haven’t done anything!”
Hearing this frustrated the Dragon King. Grumbling, he reached into his armor and pulled out a list.
“Mr. Kang!” he yelled. “Come forward, please! You may do us the honors! Tell them the laws they’ve broken, so they may know what to beg forgiveness for.”
“Aye, m’lord!” the kangaroo answered.
With his great big foot, he kicked the elder in the stomach again, just for the fun of it. “Hass-sah!” Then, he snatched the paper and hopped onto a box. Reaching into his pouch, he took out a clipboard and a pen. “Ahem!
Ahem!” He took o" his sunglasses and put on his reading glasses. Quickly, someone handed him a megaphone. The villagers felt exactly the way you would if you beheld such a thing, reader. When he was #nished clearing his throat, he clenched his #st and screamed. “Ro-ight!”
Everyone listened closely.
“First law brick’n . . .” began the kangaroo. “Stealin’
from the government! Second law brick’n . . . preventing an o$cer from performing his duty! Third law brick’n . . .”
He took a deep breath, this time screaming even louder.
“Bll-asphemy! Hate speech against our dear leader, and his cause! Fourth law bri—”
But before he could continue, some of the villagers started interrupting.
“Hey! Wait! Wait just a minute!” said one. “We didn’t do any of those things!”
“Yeah!” called out another. “We’ve never stolen from you!”“You’ve got the wrong village! We’re innocent!”
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As they said this, Choada stepped forward and reached for his whip, for being rude was also against the law. But the Dragon King signaled him to stop just in time.“It’s alright, Mr. Choada! Let them speak! We believe everyone has the right to a fair trial, don’t we?”
The troll nodded and stepped back.
“Continue!” the Dragon King insisted.
But the villagers weren’t so sure they wanted to anymore.
“W-w-we s-s-said . . .” they stuttered. “We haven’t s-s-stolen anything . . .”
“Y-y-yeah! H-h-honestly! W-w-we haven’t!”
“Oh, no?” answered Kanga Kang, hopping back down.
“Then, tell us . . . what do ye call THAT?”
He pointed to a carriage full of vegetables.
“That?”
Kanga nodded.
“Well . . . those are the crops we grow.”
“But what’s the sign say, wise guy?”
The villager squinted. “Taxes,” he answered. “Prop-erty of the Dragon King.”
“Looks a little light, doesn’t it?”
“Well . . .”
Kanga hopped right up to his face and put the megaphone next to his ear.
“Someone’s had their DIRTY LITTLE PAWS in there!”
“B-b-but . . . but . . . we’ve only been keeping what we need to survive. You take too much. Our children are starving. We have no choi—”
“Oi! What was that?” yelled Kanga before the man could #nish. “An admission of guilt! You all ‘eard it!” He raised up his megaphone and started hopping up and down, excitedly. “GUILTY! GUILTY! GUILTY!”
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The soldiers all started cheering along with him.
“GUILTY! GUILTY!”
The villagers couldn’t believe what they were hearing.
“What about interfering with police o"cers?” another shouted. “We’ve certainly never done that!”
This time, the troll answered. Though, it was very dif‐
$cult for anyone to understand him.
“Lazz, yo’ honn!” he croaked. “All lazz! Look hee-ah!”
He pointed to his wrist, where there was a little scratch.
“Jus las’ week, one of em’ rascally motha’s bit meh! Assaul!
Batt’raw! Breakin’ de law, sah!”
“I knew it!” shouted Kanga, bouncing up and down some more. “Guilty! GUILTY AS CHARGED!”
The soldiers echoed him again.
“GUILTY! GUILTY!”
“But,” the villager pleaded. “That was only because he was coming to kidnap our children! All we did is beg him to stop. You can’t charge a mother for protecting her child . . .”
“What about blasphemy?” another villager asked.
“Hate speech? We’ve never said anything hateful to you.
This, I’m sure of.”
Quickly, Kanga hopped over to him next and started poking him.
“No! That’s right! Ye don’t! But ye don’t praise him either, do ye?”
“W-w-well . . . I . . . I suppose not.”
“And why is that? Hmm?” He pulled down his reading glasses and glared at him, poking him some more.
“Hmm? HMM?”
“W-w-well . . .” The man looked around at all the burned-down buildings, thinking about how they’d been treated all these years. To the villagers, the answer seemed obvious. But to the kangaroo, it clearly wasn’t. “I . . . I . . .”
“MmmHmm . . .” sighed Kanga, scribbling something 177
down on the piece of paper. “Just as I thought. Ungrateful! Indignant! Hateful! Ye don’t even really believe the Gov’ ‘ere should be king, do ye? In fact . . . it’s probably what drove ye to commit the worst crime of all!”
“W-w-what? M-m-me?” asked the villager.
Kanga hopped back onto the box and took his deepest breath yet. Screaming at the top of his lungs, he yelled.
“FOURTH LAW BRICK’N . . . mur-der . . . MURDER
MOST FOUL!” He pointed to the village graveyard.
“B-b-but . . . b-b-but . . . those are our graves. Your soldiers killed those people. It’s YOU . . . who have been murdering US!”
Surely, reader, they couldn’t blame that on the villagers too. But once again, they were surprised.
“Yesss . . .” hissed Kanga, disgusted. “But YE MAKE
THEM do it, don’t ye? Ye . . . with all ye teasin’ and mockin’! Bullyin’ . . . harassin’m all day long!”
“W-w-what? No, we don’t . . .”
“Oh, yes ye do! Just the other day, one of the soldiers saw ye smiling!”
“But . . . we weren’t mocking them.”
“Well, who were ye mockin’ then? Hmm?”
“No one . . .”
“Hah! Ye expect us to believe that?”
“But it’s true . . .” squeaked the villager. “Sometimes, we just smile . . . and laugh . . . you know? Our lives are hard . . . but we believe in making the best of things, never giving up and always having hope. So, we do things like sing as we work . . . smile . . . or play with our children. We mean you no harm with it.”
“Well, ye DO harm us,” said Kanga. “It’s enough to make a man SICK. Look—Murph over here has been ill for three days because of it. Haven’t ye, Murph?”
“That’s right,” said the soldier named Murph. “Me losin’ me-livelihood! Put that one on the list, Kanga!”
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Now the villagers were just angry, reader. Altogether, they exploded with complaints—shouting, stomping and shaking their !sts in de!ance. But all it did was make the Dragon King and his army laugh more.
“MUAH, HAH, HAH, HAH! MUAH! HAH!
HAH! HAH!”
They loved every minute of it. Clearly, the villagers realized, talking to the Dragon King wasn’t going to solve the problem.
But that’s when everything started to get worse.
Amidst the rabble, the Dragon King heard something he didn’t !nd funny. It was very faint, but it seemed to be coming from somewhere in the back row.
“Yeah, get out of here!” the voice called. “We’re not afraid of you anyways!”
All the laughing immediately stopped, reader. Exploding with rage, the Dragon King started thundering again.
“WHAT? WHO SAID THAT? WHO! SAID!
THAT!”
Never had the villagers beheld such fury in a man.
Everyone froze again and became dead silent. Eventually, the one who uttered it dared to raise his hand.
“YOU!” the Dragon King screamed, pointing at him.
“COME HERE! RIGHT . . . NOW!”
A brave young man made his way to the front of the crowd.
Fearlessly, he walked right up to the Dragon King, crossed his arms and looked him square in the eye.
“Now . . . tell me again,” the Dragon King sighed, cupping his hand over his ear. “What was that you said back there?”
“You heard me!” yelled the man. “I said we’re not afraid! Not of you . . . or your STUPID goons . . .”
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“No?” The Dragon King didn’t even look mad anymore, only surprised. The villager was short, skinny and poor-looking. He wasn’t wearing armor. Nor did he appear to have a weapon. “And why is that, exactly?”
“Because . . .” said the young man, smirking. “Our elder told us there is a God! A God who loves us! A God who is powerful! Way . . . WAY more powerful than you!”
“Really?” asked the Dragon King curiously.
The villager screamed in his face again.
“YES!”
The Dragon King peeked behind the young man, but didn’t see anyone. Then he turned and looked behind his army. Again, he didn’t see anyone. He gazed up at the clouds and squinted. Still, there was nothing.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked.
The villager nodded.
“Yes, I am! So, you’d all better get out of here RIGHT
NOW, before you make Him angry!” He stomped his foot. “THIS is your LAST chance!”
No one expected what happened next, reader. The Dragon King started shaking and quivering. He even looked like he might start crying. The people of Beville were astonished.
“Oh . . .” sighed the warlord. “Oh . . . I see.” He hunched over and pouted. “Well . . . if you’re sure . . . then I guess that changes things, doesn’t it?”
Was that it, reader? Was it over? Some of the villagers started looking hopeful.
“I guess . . .” The Dragon King sni#ed, turning around. “We’ll all just have to . . . pack up . . . and leave. I guess . . . we’ll just . . . have . . . to . . . go back . . . and—”
But as he spoke, the elder noticed him slowly reach for his sword.
“Wait! Look out!” the old man cried. “Get down!”
As quick as lightning, the Dragon King spun around and sliced. The young man’s head $ew o% his shoulders 180
and landed in the mud. The body fell shortly after. All the villagers gasped in horror.
“Well, would you look at that,” marveled the Dragon King, turning to his army. “I guess he was wrong. BAH!
HAH! HAH! HAH!”
For the third time, the army burst into laughter with him. The villagers all started screaming and running.
“Muah! Hah! Hah! Look at them! Scurrying like little mice!” teased one soldier.
“They’re sure scared now!” teased another.
One by one, they caught the villagers and hauled them back. More than anyone, they seemed to enjoy teasing children.
“Rawr! Rawr! Where do you think you’re going, you little brat? RAWR! Looks like God doesn’t love you much after all, does he? HEE! HEE! RAWR! Look what the Dragon King did! He’s going to get your mummy and daddy next! And then YOU! Muah! Hah! Hah! No one can save you now!”
The commotion ended when the Dragon King raised his sword and stabbed it into the ground with a loud crash.
“NOW,” he screamed. “IS THERE ANYONE
ELSE? IS THERE ANYONE ELSE WHO BELIEVES
IN GOD?”
This time, no one answered, reader. Even the elder was too shocked to speak. All the villagers could do was huddle together helplessly. Watching this put the biggest smile on the Dragon King’s face.
“That’s what I thought.”
He continued his speech. No one dared interrupt him, either.
“You know,” he chuckled. “I am beginning to see I was wrong about you people. You’re not as guilty as I thought.
You’ve simply been deceived . . . misled . . . lied to . . .
that’s all.” He pointed to the Elder. “By THIS fraud here!
Let me guess. He told you that you’re important. He told 181
you that your pitiful lives have value. There is a god up there, somewhere, who is looking out for you. IS THAT
RIGHT?”
The villagers all nodded timidly.
“I thought so! But . . . let me ask you this. If that’s true, then where is this god? I mean, has anyone ever really seen him before? Hmm?”
No one had an answer.
“If he’s so powerful, then why didn’t he stop me back there? Maybe he doesn’t love you as much as you think.
Maybe he isn’t even real. Or . . .” Then the Dragon King suddenly started roaring again. “PERHAPS HE IS
AFRAID! JUST LIKE YOU! RAWR! GRAH! BRAW!”
The children in the front row screamed at the top of their lungs. Babies cried. It made the Dragon King laugh even more. “BRAH! HAH! HAH! HAH! HAH!” He drew his sword up again and stared at it, beating his chest.
“No, god is not here . . . and if he is . . . clearly, he is on MY
side!”
He hopped up onto the box, pushed o" Kanga and grabbed the megaphone.
“You want the truth? God hates you! God doesn’t care whether you suffer! I know this—because I grew up there, in the wild!” He pointed over the mountains towards the middle of the island. “Starving! Freezing!
Fighting every day for my life! You think your lives are hard? Hah! None of you can even imagine what I went through! If any of you had been in my place, you’d be no different than me!”
Many of the villagers didn’t know this about the Dragon King, but they knew the dreaded place he was talking about. Some even started feeling a little sorry for him.
“God loves only the strong! He helps only those who help themselves. He favors the bold! The cunning! The ambitious! He gives power and dominion to those who rise 182
up and seize it! And preserves only those willing to do what is necessary to survive!”
Like a lion, he suddenly pounced down at the villagers. He raised his sword and smashed open one of the boxes of booty. The elder’s precious scrolls came tumbling out. Then, he stabbed his blade into the pile, and started dragging it across the village square.
“Now, because I am in such a good mood today,” he continued. “I have decided to give you all one last chance.
Give up this silly religion. Leave this dreamer behind. Instead, join me. I will rebuild your village, double your rations and let you keep the rest of your precious children.
God may not love you, but if you love ME, he will take pity on you. You will be rewarded . . . in this life . . . and any next to come. All you have to do is cross this line . . .
get down on your knees . . . say you’re sorry . . . and call me king.”
The Dragon King waited patiently as the villagers considered his o#er. No one wanted to cross, reader. But no one wanted to die either. They looked at their dead friend who was already half-buried in the mud. The mothers crossed $rst with the children. Then, the young women. Lastly, the men.
“GoOoOod . . .” the Dragon King croaked, patting them on their heads as they passed. “GoOoOod . . .”
Even the elder’s son went.
“I’m sorry, Father,” he whimpered. “But I’m not going to die for this.”
“Adda-boy,” said the Dragon King, patting him too.
“You’ve done the right thing. I’m proud of you.”
By the end, the old man was the only one left. He sat in the mud, shivering and heart-broken. The Dragon King and his soldiers all laughed at him.
But the Dragon King still wasn’t $nished, reader. He wouldn’t be satis$ed until the elder crawled too. It was the only way he could be sure they’d never cross him again.
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Little did he know, there was someone else that night who had similar plans.
“Heh, heh, heh . . .” chuckled the Dragon King, stomping his scrolls even deeper into the mud. “Well, old man, it seems you have failed. But . . . I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a deal. If you cross too, we will let you live.
Come, join your people. Heck, you can even keep this pitiful religion of yours. Really,” he laughed like it was cute, “I don’t care . . . as long as you cross . . .”
But the elder didn’t move. Instead, he closed his eyes, put his hands together and started whispering.
“Hey! Are you listening to me!” growled the Dragon King. “I said cross! No? Alright, so you want to play rough then, do you? Okay, tough guy, how about this?” He turned to the crowd. “If the old man crosses, I will rebuild your village even better than it was . . . triple, instead of double, your rations . . . and return all your precious children. If he doesn’t . . . then I’ll round them all up . . . and destroy them right in front of you tonight!” Hearing this, the soldiers all drew their weapons. The villagers gasped and panicked. “THERE, IS THAT BETTER? FEEL
LIKE CRAWLIN’ YET? BRAH! HAH! HAH!” He raised his sword to give the signal. “WELL, WHAT’S IS
GONNA BE OLD MAN? HUH? WHAT’S IT
GONNA BE?”
It would be the #rst time in the Dragon King’s life that he ever felt scared.
“Hey! What’s wrong with you? Are you even listening to me? What are you, deaf? What’s that you’re whispering? Show you? Show you what? HEY, I’M TALKING
TO YOU! ANSWER ME! RIGHT NOW!”
This time, reader, the elder obeyed. But it wasn’t in the way the Dragon King expected. Far from begging, crying, bargaining or one last e$ort to %ee, something happened our villain had never seen before.
Suddenly, as if awakening from a dream, the old man’s 184
eyes shot open. He looked at the Dragon King confused, almost as though he’d forgotten he was there. Then he suddenly burst into laughter, like it was the best day of his whole life.
“AH, HAH, HAH, HAH!” he cackled uncontrol-lably. It was almost like someone was tickling him. “BAH, HAH, HAH, HAH! MUAH! HAH! HAH! HAH!”
Everyone watching was dumbstruck. Especially the Dragon King. If you had seen the look on his face, I am sure you would have started laughing too.
“H-h-hey . . .” the Dragon King mumbled. “Are you crazy? What are you laughing at?”
“You!” answered the elder. He still couldn’t stop laughing. “You! Tee, hee, hee! You really think you’re going to get away with this, don’t you? Bah, hah, hah! You thought God was hard on you as a child. Well . . . JUST
WAIT AND SEE WHAT HE’S GOT IN STORE FOR
YOU NOW! MUAH! HA! HA! HA!”
“What? God? What are you talking about, old man?
Look, I’m right here!” He held up his sword. “If anyone wants to #ght me, all they have to do is—”
But the elder interrupted him very rudely.
“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you, Dragon King? To be the only human who God Himself had to come down to defeat! But we both know that isn’t REALLY what scares you. It isn’t . . . what would really . . . REALLY
HURT!”
It was like there was a whole di$erent person talking, reader. The look on the elder’s face was unrecognizable.
The rage in his voice and eyes was even scarier than the Dragon King’s. Our villain was speechless.
“W-w-who . . . w-w-who . . . who are you people?” was all he could say. He looked down at the scrolls he tram-pled, wondering what sort of God they believed in. He always thought they worshipped a nice God. But the way the elder was talking now, it was almost as if this God was 185
even more ferocious than he was. “What do you believe is in store for me?”
“Your worst nightmare, that’s what!” the elder cried.
Then, he stood up. His chains fell o"—which everyone thought was very odd. He hopped up onto a pile of rubble with far more energy than an old man should have and started dancing. “A NEW KING WILL RISE!” he screamed. “SOMEONE EVEN MIGHTIER THAN
YOU!”
He pointed at the Dragon King with a sinister grin.
“What? Impossible! No one is mightier than I! I . . .
who had no help from God . . .”
“He will come from the same place you did . . . have the same hard life—no, even harder! But instead of being bitter, he will be cheerful and grateful. Instead of being cruel and sel#sh, he will be sensitive and kind. He will not crave power and riches, but only peace, love and harmony . . .”
Now, the Dragon King was really angry, reader.
“W-w-what?” he stuttered stupidly. “WHAT? No!
That’s impossible . . . IMPOSSIBLE! No one could be grateful in a place like that! No one nice could survive!
RAWR! YOU LIE!”
But the elder just laughed even more.
“Hoo, hoo! Hee, hee! Tee, hee, hee!”
He hopped back down and started prancing right towards the Dragon King, completely unafraid. It was the first time anyone had seen the villain take a step back.“He will be stronger than you . . . faster than you . . .
younger than you. The very soldiers standing behind you now will crawl over your bones to him, begging for mercy!”
The Dragon King glanced at his army and noticed that many of them looked worried. He heard some of them whispering about whether it could be true.
186 “H-h-hey! Stop it! STOP IT!” he said, shaking. “BE
“H-h-hey! Stop it! STOP IT!” he said, shaking. “BE
QUIET!”
“Stories will be told about his great feats . . . tee, hee!
Statues around the world will be erected in his honor . . .
hoo, hoo! While you, with your little sword and pathetic excuses, will be laughed at for all eternity, as nothing more than the FOOL who thought he could rise against God!
BAH, HAH, HAH, HAH!”
Finally, the Dragon King lost control— “I SAID BE
QUIET!” Fumbling for his sword, he raised it up high and struck.
But he was too late, reader. From that night on, news about the prophecy began to spread like wild"re. Rebellions broke out along the coast! Slaves revolted! Assassina-tions and spies plagued the halls of his fortress. The Dragon King may have killed the elder, but he never felt like he was truly dead. Sometimes, he swore he could still hear the old man laughing at him. Late at night, he’d awake in a sweat and see him grinning in the shadows.
As for the hero of our story, he was busy getting ready for the long journey ahead of him. Winter was over. His wounds were fully healed. The bones in his limbs had grown thick and strong. Especially the bones in his "sts, reader! He could punch right through a slab of stone and not even feel it. Perfect for smashing into bullies’ heads! It was time. He was ready to leave. But could he make it before it was too late? The way was long and treacherous!
He had no map, compass or guide to help! Nothing but a restless heart . . . a fool’s hope . . . and a hunch.
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