Frog and the Sandspiders of Aridian

FROG AND THE SANDSPIDERS
OF ARIDIAN

FROG AND THE
SANDSPIDERS OF
ARIDIAN

Joffre White

Book Guild Publishing
Sussex, England

First published in Great Britain in 2012 by
The Book Guild Ltd
Pavilion View
19 New Road
Brighton, BN1 1UF

Copyright © Joffre White 2012

The right of Joffre White to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher or the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

Typesetting in Century Schoolbook by
Nat-Type, Cheshire

Printed and Bound in Great Britain by
CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY

A catalogue record for this book is available from
The British Library.

ISBN 978 1 84624 766 8
ePub ISBN 978 1 90971 673 5
Mobi ISBN 978 1 90971 674 2

For Simpkins with all my love

Prologue

The Second Dimension …

A lifeless desert landscape stretches out into distant horizons; only the dark featureless shapes of sand dunes fill its panorama. Two large, silver moons hang in a star-peppered sky, illuminating the scene with an eerie, pale grey light.

In a small hollow, a dust devil stirs and slowly rotates, picking up granules of sand, spiralling them higher and higher, twisting itself into a column which grows to over 2 metres in height. The speed of the wind increases. Flickers of lightning crackle and sparkle within the churning cyclone as a figure begins to form and shape itself. The features that develop are that of a robed woman, her fair hair cascading down around her shoulders, her young face both beautiful and wicked. Her skin is as pale as the moonlight.

With one loud, explosive burst, the wind stops and the loose dust and sand falls to the ground around her. As she looks up at the twin moons, she raises an arm and a wand appears in her outstretched hand. She
stabs the black, twisted wand into the ghostly coloured sand and an evil, cruel smile spreads across her face.

‘Free. Free at last. Now I shall have my revenge,' she shouts into the night.

Below ground, a great cavern is bathed in a warm blue light; its source is numerous glowing crystal rocks placed on stone plinths, which encircle a stone altar set at the cavern's centre. Upon the altar there sits a sacred Rune Stone. Shadows reach up high into the intricately carved ceiling and play with the delicate patterns. The light shines on four life-size statues of two men and two women that look down on the scene. The detail of their individual attire differs from statue to statue, except for the hooded robes draped over their shoulders; their stone faces stare out, stern and solemn.

A lone, cloaked figure stands before the altar; a hood conceals the head and face of the wearer. The pale, almost translucent Rune Stone begins to glisten and shimmer from a light of its own making. It rises and floats unsteadily, its vibrations sending out ripples through the air.

Two arms stretch out from the cloak. Golden bangles adorn each exposed wrist, decorated with the Magic symbols and runes belonging to a Guardian of the Dimensions. Slowly, the bangles are brought together and a bright, white streak of plasma snakes out and forms a blue orb around the now juddering Rune Stone.

A woman's soft, calm voice speaks from within the hood.

‘It will not be that easy for you to take, even though I
alone cannot hold back the vile destruction that you bring with you. For the moment, I have sealed the Rune Stone beyond your influence. I do not know how you came to Aridian, but I pledge that I shall do everything in my power to safeguard this world and the security of the Four Dimensions.'

The figure turns, raising her arms even higher, static lightning streaking out from her wrists to connect with the stone statues, whose eyes flash open.

Her voice comes again, stronger and more insistent.

‘I call upon my fellow Guardians. The dark threat to the Dimensions has returned. Aridian is now the battleground. We must join the circle once again. We need the Chosen One. We need to recall the legend that is Frog.'

1

Caught in the Act

Our World …

it was a dark Friday afternoon in late February. Chris Casey had finished all of his homework and was about to reacquaint himself with the world of the Internet. It had been a while since he had been allowed the privilege.

He had worked hard at school during the winter months, earning enough merits to achieve his platinum award and badge, but it had been tough; the first month or so after the previous year's summer break had been a disaster. He had returned from the holidays with an excess of energy and the inability to concentrate on his work and subjects. His consistent chattering to his class friends about any topic, school related or otherwise, had interfered with his own and their education. His teachers were driven to distraction by his antics and it had finally been necessary for one of them to write no less than three warning entries in his journal in the space of two weeks. One more entry and he would be introduced to the experience of a full detention session: something he had never needed to
fear because of his previous high standards of work and good behaviour.

As understanding as she was, his mother had been dismayed and had firmly explained that if there was another report of unruly conduct, written or otherwise, then all of his after-school activities would be withdrawn, including his beloved Taekwondo and his street dance club.

He could only put his reckless and excessive behaviour down to the disappearance and loss of his father some months previously. He still found it hard to deal with his absence and his thirteenth birthday in September had been a particularly sad occasion without his dad's presence.

The fantastic adventures that he had experienced during his summer break had given him some diversion. However, he felt that he couldn't share what had happened with anyone, even with his best friend Billy Smart, and so it seemed that his release valve was to keep talking about anything else that he could think of.

Finally, being faced with the prospect of losing all after-school activities and being totally grounded (weekday evenings and weekends), he had reasoned with himself one night as he lay in bed.

‘What would Frog do?' he had asked himself and from the recess of his mind a familiar voice from his past adventure had echoed, ‘
He'd do the right thing
.'

That night he dreamt of dragons; of riding on their backs through moonlit clouds and feeling the fresh wind rush though his hair. He heard their enchanting voices fill his mind with calm and reasoning.

The next morning he had gone back to school with a renewed focus and determination. Over the weeks before and after the festive season, he steadily gained commendations and merits until he had achieved the top grades in his class and received a brilliant beginning-of-year report.

So, after weeks of hard work, here he was, being rewarded for his efforts. His mum had finally given him access to her precious computer. The homepage of Google stared him in the face and he did something that he had always wanted to do. His friends had told him of a thing called ‘Ego Surfing'. It was when you typed in your own name and saw what information and links came up on the Internet. He slowly entered his full name, Christopher Norman Casey. He pressed the search button and watched as the screen blinked and then went blank!

He hit the enter key several times, then the escape key, but to no avail. The flat, grey screen just stared back at him. He was about to press the power switch and reboot the computer when the screen turned a shimmering silver and he watched, transfixed, as a familiar shape appeared on the screen.

‘You've got to be kidding me,' he gasped. ‘It's my flag. Frog's flag.'

Staring back at him was a white pennant with the image of a leaping green frog on it.

How could this be on the Internet?
he wondered.

Curiously, he hit the enter button again and the image faded only to be replaced by a message which scrolled across the screen.

‘Belzeera has returned.
The Dimensions are threatened once again.
We are in need of the legend that is Frog.
Cassaria, Guardian of Aridian.'

Chris gathered his thoughts and then tentatively typed into the keyboard.

‘What do you want me to do?'

He pressed enter and waited until a new message appeared.

‘Make haste to Aridian.
Use the sword to travel the Slipstream.
To open the passage to this Dimension,
its blade must be plunged into free sand.'

Chris typed his response.

‘How do I know that this is not a trick?'

A reply quickly appeared on the screen.

‘A message from your old friend Gizmo –
Remember young Frog, not
everything is as it seems.'

Chris raised a smile as he typed in his reply.

‘I'll be there as soon as I can.'

The screen faded and with another blink, the Google homepage reappeared. The printer came to life and Chris watched in amazement as an image of the leaping green frog slid into the tray. He picked up the piece of paper and stared at it as the memories came flooding back of his adventures in Castellion and the friends that he had left behind. He pictured their faces and he recalled his promise that should they ever need him again he would cross the Dimensions to help.

As he sat there, thoughts and images filling his head, Tabby wandered into the room and brushed against his leg. He looked down and absently stroked the cat.

‘Looks like the Internet will have to wait,' he said as a familiar tingling feeling ran across his forehead and a soft golden glow filled the room.

He got up and went to the bathroom and, looking into the mirror, he saw that the mark of the Chosen, the sign of a golden burning sun, had reappeared on his brow.

‘I hope this isn't permanent or I've got a lot of explaining to do,' he sighed.

He need not have worried; as he stood running the message over in his mind, the glow receded and the sign faded. He looked at his watch: 17.20. If he was going to make his move, it had to be now.

Learning from his previous visit, he went to his bedroom and emptied his pockets, making sure not to take anything with him that could present a danger. Then, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen where his mum was sitting at the table. She was
attempting the latest Sudoku puzzle in the daily paper.

He stood in the doorway and took a moment to study her features. Although she was still the same strong and caring person, he had seen a difference in her since the loss of his father. A spark, a brightness, in her personality was missing. Friends would call and encourage her to go out with them, to socialise, but she would gracefully decline their offers, choosing her own company and immersing herself in her love of historical novels, or throwing herself into research work for the library where she was head librarian.

One day soon,
he thought,
I'll share my adventures with you.
He then made his way across the kitchen and said, ‘Hi Mum.'

She looked up. ‘Where are you going, young man?'

‘I'm just going out to the shed to fetch something,' he explained.

‘What's wrong with the computer? You haven't crashed it have you?' she asked suspiciously.

‘No, it's okay. I just need to get something from the shed, that's all.'

‘What on earth would you want to bring in from the shed?'

‘I've got some old toys in a box out there and I thought that I might clean them up for you to sell at a car boot sale.' His intentions were true, just not at this moment.

She eyed him for a second and then she said, ‘All right, but don't be long. Tea will be ready at six o'clock.'

‘Sure,' he replied as he disappeared out of the door.

‘And don't get dirty,' she shouted after him. ‘Of course I won't,' he replied and added, ‘I love you, Mum.'

She smiled to herself warmly and then continued with her puzzle.

Outside, Chris opened the door of the shed and felt for the light switch. He flicked it with his finger and the old 60-watt bulb glimmered into life, illuminating the interior with a greyish light, which struggled to push back the dark shadows. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him and looked around at the various gardening and DIY equipment. A workbench stood to one side and he turned to face the old chest of drawers opposite. He hadn't opened it since the day that he had returned from Castellion nearly seven months before.

Taking in a deep breath, he knelt down and slowly pulled the bottom drawer open. He moved aside some old toys and reached further back to find the cloth bundle and the small wooden box just where he had left them. With trembling hands, he brought them out and placed them onto the floor. He slowly unwrapped the bundle and stared for a moment at the medieval clothes, the short sword in its scabbard, the dragon-skin waistcoat and the coiled whip. Old memories spun again in his head.

Picking up the box, he examined the strange runes that decorated its surface and marvelled at the absence of hinges or any visible means of opening it. He then slowly brought the box closer to him and whispered, ‘Frog.'

As he said the word, the top melted open to reveal a crystal glass whistle and a long silver chain. He felt along the chain to find the unseen talisman and as soon as his fingers closed around it, his hand turned transparent. The Magic worked its way up his arm, beginning to turn his entire body invisible, but he let go, allowing his arm to return to normal.

‘Just checking,' he said, as if to reassure himself, then looped the chain around his neck.

Ten minutes later, he had changed into his ‘Frog' clothes. The green hooded cloak embraced him like a long lost friend. He placed the glass whistle in the leather pouch, which hung on his belt along with his sword in its scabbard. The leather whip was coiled, bandoleer style, across his chest. His normal clothes were now bundled up and placed inside the closed drawer.

He moved to the far end of the shed and pulled back a pile of plastic sacks that covered a small, unused bag of builder's sand.

‘Right, I'd better get on with it I suppose,' he said purposefully as he drew his sword and plunged it into the top of the bag. Nothing happened. He pulled out the blade and tried again. Still nothing. He stood there for a while, running the words from the computer screen through his head. Finally, with a smile, he carefully withdrew the sword and sheathed it. Grabbing hold of the bag, he dragged it to the door and out around the side of the shed. A small trail of sand following him. In the dark gloom of the chilly evening, he tore it open and poured the contents onto the ground.

‘That should do it,' he smiled. ‘That is unless you're the wrong sort of sand.'

He drew his sword again and this time he could see that the blade was shimmering with a blue and white light.

‘That's more like it,' he said and checked his watch: 17.45. ‘Aridian, here I come,' he added as he thrust the sword into the pile of sand.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind, the hands clasped on top of his hands, making it impossible for him to release the sword.

‘Gotcha!' said a familiar voice in his ear.

Chris turned his head sideways and shouted in his assailant's face.

‘Not now, Billy. Not now!' But he knew that it was already too late as the Slipstream opened up and they fell forwards, spiralling into the swirling galaxy of spinning stars and flashing lights.

It was night-time and the air was chill. The boy who was now Frog found himself sitting on the top of what appeared to be a large sand dune. Stretching out to the horizon was a vast desert with what looked like a craggy rock formation far away in the distance. Two silver moons hovered unnaturally large and close to the horizon and the sky was filled with a blanket of bright shimmering stars. He tilted his head back, taking in the thousands of scattered diamonds twinkling in the dark velvet backdrop.

‘I should have known that you would be here,' he said. ‘You seem to follow me everywhere.' Sure enough, hovering high above him, was the familiar shape of Orion's Belt and he thought back to that evening in July when he had been looking up at the same
formation of stars from his bedroom window and his adventures had first begun.

A groan by his side caught his attention and he looked down at the semi-conscious figure of Billy Smart sprawled out on the sand.

‘This is going to be interesting,' said Frog getting to his feet. ‘What the heck am I going to do with you, my friend?'

Billy slowly opened his eyes. ‘What happened?' he groaned.

‘Well, it's a good job that we're not going anywhere at the moment, because it's a long story,' said Frog as he helped his friend to sit up.

Billy blinked his eyes and squinted to take in his surroundings.

‘Why are there two moons and where did all this sand come from?' he asked, turning to Frog. ‘And why are you dressed like that?'

‘I'll answer all of your questions if you promise not to freak out on me,' said Frog.

‘Why would I freak out on you?' said Billy.

‘Because even with your vivid imagination, this is going to be too weird for you, so you're going to have to pay attention to what I say,' answered Frog.

Billy slowly got to his feet and turned around; he looked out at the desert, which stretched away in every direction, fading into the dim horizon. He bent down and picked up a handful of sand, slowly letting it run away through his fingers, and then he turned and stared straight into Frog's eyes.

Frog stared back. Billy was the larger of them by at least fifteen centimetres. He had a stocky build with
broad shoulders and a round, pleasant, freckled face framed by thick fair hair. It was now that Frog noticed Billy was wearing his hooded jacket and combat trousers.

Billy was just younger than him by two months, but he had already mapped out his future.

‘When I grow up,' he had announced on numerous occasions, ‘I'm gonna be a drummer in a rock and roll band. Either that,' he would sometimes add, ‘or I'm gonna invent something really amazing.'