The Mythical Wormwood of Azbakar

By George A. Rogge, Ph.D.

When the wizard uses his potion of wormwood to heal Papa, Froggy becomes infatuated with the transcendental powers of the drug and abandons his future, family and duties to become a wizard. He uses his powers in the Wizard Wars and aspires to become the Philosopher King with the love of his life Ms. Mousy at his side. What will become of Froggy, though, once the wormwood has him in its grip? After reaching a certain state, wizards die without taking the drug at least every few days. Such power ignites irrational fear amongst the animals and they start a war to destroy it, and in effect the wizards. The wizards react mercilessly and Froggy vows to form an animal rebellion to stop them. He assembles a motley crew of friends to search for the omnipotent, Mythical Wormwood of Azbakar in the hopes of defeating the wizards with their own medicine. Along the way, they overcome mortal dangers to save themselves and the world order as they know it, Sciurus falls madly in love with Jack E. Rabbit, Froggy and the sovereign wizard battle throughout all the dimensions of space and time, the Animal Army gains traction against their foe and Froggy pursues Ms. Mousy after meeting her in an alternate dimension.

Froggy’s role requires constant magic and as his addiction to the wormwood grows, Ms. Mousy is deeply disturbed to see the life ebb from the love of her life. He eventually finds a spell in the Ethereal Realm to break his dependence, but years later his craving for wormwood will not abide. On his final journey, Froggy faces near insurmountable obstacles that remind him of his mortal frailty and old age. Though he realizes his salvation lies with Ms. Mousy, is it too late to relinquish his craving for the wormwood in exchange for the happiness only love can offer?

• Language: English
• Publisher: George A. Rogge, Ph.D.
• Release date: Feb 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310031366

Book preview

Long ago, in the Mesozoic Era of the Late Cretaceous Period, on the fractured supercontinent of Gondwanaland, the varied and super-intelligent mega fauna cultivated and protected the oft times potent and magical mega flora. They were a diverse genre of creatures that established a code of co-existence, co-evolving to form ecological niches that would last for tens of millions of years. Some plants, though, unmasked incalculable powers and ignited passions in the animals that collided in flashes of warfare which threatened to unhinge world order.

Chapter 1

I

There it is. Froggy’s deep and commanding whisper sent ice-cold shivers rippling down Jackie’s furry, light brown back. The two were crouched at the edge of the grassy field surrounded by a motley crew of animals in the Thousand Mile-wide Swamp. Froggy’s powerful, black-and-green spotted hand pointed through a dancing overhang of leaves at the last of the wormwood. Sciurus, Jackie, Boa, the rooster Galus and Tigris, as well as the wizard Lecithus, looked on. They had found it. Gentle winds caressed the shimmering wisps of silver silk blanketing the bulbous, sunlit yellow wormwood flowers. Froggy knew from experience the unimaginable powers of the plant.

You must carefully pluck the wormwood, the wizard had explained, and I will extract the alkaloids from it. This was over a year ago, in the wizard’s gray, stone palace chamber. Fire glowed on the ancient magician’s bearded and leathery face and Froggy remembered most the blaze in his eyes while he spoke. The light did not reflect but emanated from his glassy stare and small, arcing lightning forks dissipated in the air before his face.

Wizards need wormwood to practice the runic arts, he explained. At first, the body is numbed by the potion we make from it and it launches our senses into a violent, disorienting cyclone. The art of my craft, he said with a sly smile, "is to control those psychic gyrations, though, and channel the energy of the magic from the wormwood deep into the abdomen, where it builds up, held in check by a gargantuan effort.

Eventually, the overpowering strength of the wormwood’s magic overtakes every wizard, and the body fails from the strain of the drug. In that singular moment, and only with the aid of the alkaloids, the sorcerer can doff the body from the mind and fly free, high into the Ethereal Plane. Lecithus bent close to Froggy then, and his face betrayed a deep, lingering hunger that engorged the man from his inside out. It was a face tortured by desire. There are secrets on The Plane, young Frog; we find our spells there...and our magic.

II

Before that fateful meeting with the wizard Lecithus, Froggy had been young and living peacefully with his family in the valley village of Lüngch. His hometown was, at that time, small and full of friendly animals. Happy squirrels cajoled at the cafes and rabbits bound out of forested hiding places to surprise their loved ones. On the corner of a quaint, residential avenue, the Frogs had built a small, sturdy cottage.

Momma Frog, a robust creature of generous proportions, wore an apron and a smile every day of her happy life. Papa Frog, though, was her antithesis. He was short and thin, scowling and ready to argue at the drop of a hat. His temper had been a handicap all his life, but that afternoon it lead him down an irretrievable path.

Sweetie, please don’t slam the screen door on your way in, Momma said to Papa.

I’ll do whatever darn well pleases me, he retorted, ya tyrant! Papa quickly rushed into the back room and slammed that door too.

What’s going on with you today? Mama was standing outside the door, listening to papers rustling and desk drawers being rapidly opened and closed. What are you looking for, she asked.

Just you keep quiet, Papa said, rushing back the way he came, brushing past Mama, out the screen door.

Hi Papa, Froggy, their first and only son, said. He was not yet an adult frog, but had grown beyond his years; standing tall and stout just outside of the cottage.

Git in the house and do your chores, young one. With those sharp words, Papa rushed off towards the countryside with a small envelope in his hand. He was a gambling frog. The night before he had placed a sure bet, a thing he couldn’t lose, which he did lose and which he was ready to pay at an old tavern on the outskirts of town.

He walked briskly into the pub. Well, lookie here, if‘t isn’t ‘is Majesty, John Frog, the fat rat in the darkest corner called out. C’m on over for a little chat, ‘froggy’. Papa’s temper instantly flared up and he marched over to the rat, curtly dropping the white envelope into his hands.

Johnny, Johnny, relax. After counting the contents of the envelope, the rat held the envelope between the two, shaking it back and forth. It’s only $1200, he said.

That’s right, the exact amount for the bet. Now leave me be.

Norvegicus laughed with an evil, sneering grin. Ye must remember awr ‘greement, sir, tha’ payments would be made heretofore on time...And I believe ye’re ‘bout two hours late.

Two hours… The words mashed out slowly, in an almost drunken slur, and Papa’s mouth fell slack. His bright eyes dulled and his face turned pale and distraught. Two hours late, he said, looking at the sundial out front. He sat next to the racketeer. That would mean...a late fee.

Right-O, Norvegicus replied with pleasure. That’ll be twenty-five percent o’ th’ $1200 by sundown. And please don’t be late, the rat said with a grin.

Y’ want twenty-five percent more, Papa exclaimed in horror and outrage. Ye can’t do this t’ me, y’ve no right. Two stinkin’ hours, Norvegicus, who in the hell ever called that late? I paid the debt and tha’s tha’. I’ll not be payin’ ya anymore, Papa said in a fury.

OK, OK, listen, the rat said. I’m a reasonable creature and I realize times are tough, so lemme make ya an offer. The wizards outside o’ the city walls are preparin’ for the wormwood harvest in a few days. They need extra hands to help, and if ye’ll work for an afternoon out there, we’ll call it even.

Papa thought it over briefly, thinking that if he didn’t pay the unruly scoundrel than he may be in for more trouble than he could handle. Finally, he stood up stiffly, knowing he would pay his debt but sorry he had ever gotten into a deal with Norvegicus. He shook metatarsals with the rat. When and where do you want me? he asked.

Meet me three miles west o’ th’ city, two days from now at daybreak, the rat said.

III

Little Froggy followed his father into the fields that morning and his eyes lit upon a fantastic, early-morning scene. Standing on top of a hill, at the edge of an enormous field, the orange sun tipped over the horizon and shed its light upon a magnificent field of flowers; rows and rows of glittering silver leaves and golden flower petals all stood tall and shining in the dawn’s early light. Froggy’s eyes brightened and widened at the sight. In the presence of the plants he felt an unprecedented peace of mind and loving warmth in his heart. Is that the wormwood, Papa, Froggy asked.

That i’ tis young one. These flowers are t’ be harvested this week for th’ Festival o’ Wizardry. Lookee there, those trails leadin’ into th’ mountain foothills take ya to th’ palaces and kingdoms o’ th’ wizards. They keep t’ themselves, mostly, but live in beautiful mountain valleys and near river waters that cleanse even the most impure of souls. At th’ mountain’s top, Papa pointed, there sits th’ castle of Ornitholos, the Great Wizard of Lüngch. Ornitholos brought you into this world with his magic when Mama was ill. He and all o’ the wizards practice their healin’ magic to keep our little village healthy.

But why do they need the wormwood, Papa?

Th’ wormwood’s a life entity of i’s own, son, and makes a magical substance within i’s leaves called alkaloids. It’s th’ alkaloids tha’ th’ wizards are after. With the help of that tonic, th’ wizards cast their spells and practice their magic.

Side-by-side, Froggy and Papa walked down to be amongst the flowers. Froggy was looking up the thick, green, rough stalks to the golden flower petals when they finally met the crew of workers and learned of their tasks for that day. They would run the harvesting machine, a huge metal monster with sharp, rotating blades that cut the flowers violently from the ground at the root.

IV

It was the end of the day and Papa was tired. His machine was lodged into some sort of rut, and the harvesting was at a temporary halt. Just you wait here, Froggy, I’ll have to see what th’ problem is. And he hopped out to find a large stone blocking the rotating blades of the harvester. Pulling the stone away, Papa did not realize the blades would immediately and automatically start swirling again to pull the vivacious plants from their rooted homes. The harvester chopped his arm clean off.

Alpha-1 had seen the whole thing happen. Horrible, he said to himself. They get these poor slobs out here and expect magic to happen even before the wormwood can be harvested. He tipped his head back, then, and let out a wild howl to assemble his medical crew of wolves. Sprinting to their leader, and realizing immediately the mortal danger Papa was in, the pack quickly and carefully set him onto an emergency travois and dashed towards the mountain foothills.

I need to go with him, Froggy cried.

Get onto my back, the alpha male said, and they lead Papa and the pack into the dense forest. It was not long before they found the first wizard’s kingdom. Alpha-1 knelt back on his haunches and let out a Banshee’s yell that alerted the watchdog in the castle to open the gates.

At the gate, the hurt frog and pack of wolves were immediately rushed into the castle infirmary where a gray-bearded wizard rushed down in his long, tattered, earth-toned robe to help them. He had a head of thick, shaggy, silver hair and looked compassionately upon the frog.

Be calm, be calm. This is going to take some effort, he said. Reaching behind him, Lecithus took a bottle of wormwood potion from the cluttered shelves and drank it. The effect was immediate. Froggy could sense an immense energy surging within the wizard until he collapsed into a chair unconscious. Surprised and frightened, the froglet looked around at the solemn faces of the wolves and his suffering father lying on a marble slab in the center of the room. They were in the wizard’s palace, a place he had not even known about until that morning. It was dark and dusty, with a small fire burning in the corner. There were bottles everywhere labeled in strange tongues and the walls were made of huge, gray and black stones. Worried and confused, Froggy wondered if the wizard would revive.

Just then Lecithus became alive, fire burning in his eyes and emanating the strength of ten men. He reached for a book of spells on the shelf and began to cast. Thick flames arched from the fireplace and cauterized Papa’s arm to stop the blood loss. Then a wind, or a pressure, or something which was otherworldly pressed down upon them all in the stone chamber. It was then that Froggy and the solemn rescue crew all looked on in amazement while Papa’s shoulder began to bud fresh, healthy tissue and a new arm quickly regenerated before their unbelieving eyes! They all let out relieved shouts of joy and collected around Lecithus in praise. The wizard had done it, he had saved Papa.

V

That night, and for weeks afterwards, Froggy dreamt of wizards and wormwood and the unlimited power wielded by Lecithus after he had taken the wormwood potion. What are you doing out there, Mama called. You’d better pick those vegetables if you wanna eat tonight! Froggy heard just fine, yet could not tear his gaze from the mountains and the wormwood.

Mama, Papa... It was dinner-time, and Froggy was long lost in his dreams of becoming a wizard. I want to go to the mountains and learn to be a wizard.

What was that dear? Mama asked politely.

But Papa would not hear of it. Are ye out of ye’r mind? We’ll not have ya galavantin’ around th’ countryside eatin’ flowers!

But Papa, the wizard saved your life. I want to save lives someday and be a powerful magician.

Ye’re too young to understand what that even means, Mama said.

Yes, he may have saved my life, but he‘s paid th’ ultimate price with his soul, Froggy. Papa’s gruff and low voice was the exact opposite of Mama’s. He wasn’t angry now; he was looking at Froggy intently. "Those…those walkin’ mummies up there are in a sort o’ self-p’rpetuatin’ disintegration; replacin’ the aged and weary human parts o’ themselves with each drink o’ th’ wormwood. They’re not human, son, they’ve got a pact with th’ devil; t’ live forever as long as they take th’ wormwood. Most o’ them live alone, nodding on magical potions in a listless search for their all-important flowers.

Now we’ve suffered long and hard t’ bring ye up a proper frog, Papa said with finality. Ye’ll not throw a good youth and fine education t’ th’ winds.

You don’t know what you’re saying, sweetie, just eat your pie, Mama said. And anyways, how ‘bout that little May Belle froglet ‘round the corner, I thought you all were gettin’ along right fine.

Jus’ forget ‘t, Froggy. Ye’re chasin’ dreams, Papa said.

Chapter 2

I

His loving parents would not relent, they held Froggy to his social responsibilities and he kept his place at the top of his class in the village school until winter set in and an extraordinary thing happened. Froggy found a lone wormwood sprout growing near the edge of a countryside pond. That tall fledgling had traveled far from its home out in the wormwood fields and Froggy was flooded with the desire to taste its magic. Not knowing how to extract the magical alkaloids, Froggy plucked the jewel and held it in his hand for a long time, entranced. At last he ate it, relishing its raw, minty flavor.

The effect was immediate, launching Froggy’s senses into outer space. His body collapsed, face down in the dirt before he could stop whirling within his head and his mind flew free!!! He flew high up into a realm far beyond reality; to a place of other minds and pure energy. His euphoria in transcending the physical world was like that of a human sleeping on LSD; all joy, kaleidoscope colors and psychedelic sounds, yet completely inexplicable.

II

The next morning he found Mama and Papa sitting on the porch enjoying coffee in the morning sun. It had been a little over a year since Froggy had seen the magic in Lecithus’ chamber, and he could still hear fireworks from the town square as drunken revelry everywhere spilled over into the dawn’s golden glow from the previous night’s festival of wizardry.

Ready for somethin’ to eat, Mama asked. But she couldn’t finish her sentence. Instead her eyes opened wide at the site of her son in the doorway and her throat tightened so that eat came out eeeeea..., trailing to a whisper where the t should have stood. Froggy was fully dressed, carrying a weighty backpack half his size which extended above his head and broad shoulders. He had on his hiking boots and wide-brimmed adventure hat. Both Mama and Papa knew from the sight of him that he planned to go somewhere.

Not now, Mama, thank you, Froggy replied with an earnest and sorrowful face. I am leaving today, for the mountains west of here, near the wormwood fields. He stood tall, ready to defend himself against an onslaught of arguments, but his parents simply looked on anxiously and with mounting concern. The sowing season is over, Papa, and the harvest won’t be for another few months. If I leave now, you can enjoy the summer with one less mouth to feed and still have time to find extra hands to help out when the Harvest Moon comes to rise.

Your mouth is not so much to feed, Froggy. Mama said sobbing into her clean, white apron.

What’r ya lookin’ for son, Papa asked.

It’s the wormwood, Papa, and to master the magical arts to become a great wizard like the one that saved your life. Don’t you understand? I can be really great if I learn to heal and protect with the magic of alkaloids. I can be so much more than a dumb ol’ farm frog. I mean, why do you send me to summer camps and pricey schools if you just want me slaving away in the vegetable gardens my whole life?

That’s not what we want at all, Mama said. We only want what’s best for you, and we know that is a life in harmony with the land and nature. Both your father and I grew up farming our own food and living off of the land and your grandparents on both sides were farmers, as well as their parents and their parents before them. Our family has always been happy living a simple life close to this Mother Earth who gives us life.

But how can I be happy when my heart is someplace else, when I am useless on our small farm, and can hardly concentrate on anything anymore because all I can think of is becoming a great wizard?

Y’re not useless, Papa said.

I have been lately, Froggy replied. "Every time I set foot out back I look at the mountaintops and I know I can do it. I know I can become a great wizard. I don’t know how I know, but I know I am smart and young and full of energy and I have got to achieve something besides pulling up the most carrots out of the ground in one year before I die of old age on this plot of sod and clay and dust and dirt. I have to get out into the world and find out if I am really worth anything at all, if I can add up to other animals and be as great as any wizard.

There is something in my heart calling me out there; telling me there is more to life than what is here. I must go, I must listen to my spirit or else I’ll die here in the silence and awful tranquility.

Y’re young Froggy, and all young men want to wrestle with th’ moon. Ye don’ know tha’ much ‘bout life just yet and ye think the path t’ glory is th’ greatest there is. Well, I’m here to tell ya i’s not. The Glory Road leads only to despair.

How can you know? You’re only a country frog.

Papa’s temper flared in response to his son’s antagonism. Stop this nonsense right now! Sit y’r ass down and trust t’ y’r Ma and me tha’ we know how t’ take care o’ ya.

No, I will not, Froggy said in frustration. I have been asking to go west for some time now, and I’ve been living your way my whole life. Froggy was angry. He was old enough to decide for