Looking for Afkar

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Many moons ago Kiblots inhabited the flourishing terrains of Eazeville. Thriving in an oasis with the freshest water full of orange whale fish and luscious native berries, these little purple intellects traded with the Gorians— a strong tribe living around the perimeters of the valley—in exchange for defense from the Mantlers.

Trish set her berry basket down, gazed up at Neeka and asked, “Have you ever wondered what the Mantlers are like?”

“Neeka replied, “I’ve never met them, but Polo traveled on their grounds in search of yellow-stone.” She continued, “He said they’re quick to move, but slow to understand.”

“What do they look like?” Trish asked.

“They’re warm skinned, but contain cold hearts and they’re about as tall as Gorians, twice the height of us.”

“It’d be interesting to meet one.”

Neeka sighed, “Well I wouldn’t be too quick to travel, Polo says this is where the bluest grass is.”

With a mischievous smile, Trish teased, “You spend a lot of time with that Polo Witmor boy, don’t you? You two would make a cute couple.”

Neeka blushed and said, “No, I’ve never thought of it like that. We’ve been good friends since Prep Arts. I find all the Witmors fascinating.”

Silence lingered as Trish remembered Polo’s brother, Afkar, balancing a flockel egg on his head in Culinary Arts. This made everyone laugh except for Miss Voller, who demanded him to knock it off. Taking this literally, he bumped it with a spatula causing it to fall and crack on the floor. He exclaimed, “I did egg-xactly what you said!”

Trish began to chuckle out loud. Neeka grew curious and asked, “What’s funny?”

“Oh it’s nothing, just remembered what a clown Afkar can be. You’re right, the Witmors are fascinating!”

Neeka lit up and asked, “Oh, you’ve seen Afkar recently?”

“Well no, come to think of it, he’s been gone for the last two cooking sessions.”

After a deep inhale and mediocre exhale Neeka replied, “I’m a little concerned because I’ve heard rumors that he’s gone missing and I haven’t seen him scooting around lately either.”

Trish squinted at the sun as if waiting for a deity to give clear direction. After a short-while however, the rays blinding lights compelled her to come up with a sound-enough suggestion: “How about we see if he’s home. That way we can catch two flockels with one net.”

“Okay, check on Afkar... and what’s the other flockel?”

“And... you can see your boyfriend!” Trish chimed with excitement.

Rolling her eyes, Neeka handed Trish the baskets and said, “On that note, let’s go.”

As they walked towards the metallic convertible that hovered a Kiblot’s-knee from the ground, Neeka reached into her pocket and quickly grew frantic; “My yellow stone’s missing!”

Trish pointed to the Magneport and asked, “Don’t you notice something?”

“Oh of course, the port’s still floating! I left it on the magnetic polar-plate.”

After placing the baskets in the trunk, Trish closed the door and joined her friend up-front in the passenger’s seat. As they took off on the magnetic trail Trish tuned in to the town square’s live music. In a flash a study pulse of bongos and shakers flooded their ears. Moments later beautiful melodic whistling ensued. Exiting the wild gardens and turning onto the main trail, a rare green glider poked its head out of the average tree and seemed to be singing along.

Cool wind blew through their hair carrying a settle aroma from the violet flower patch that now appeared on their left. Neeka saw several easels supporting colorful canvases standing on top of the vibrant turf with no artists’ in sight. Upon closer inspection however, she noticed young Kiblots camouflaged amongst the flowers. Their brown-hued clothing was the only feature that made them distinguishable.

With a few more twists and turns, they whizzed by the town square’s open concert, and shut off the port’s speaker to experience the song straight from the source. Seven musicians swayed back-and-forth with beautiful hand crafted instruments under the glistening gazebo. The two girls were pleased to see over a hundred Kiblots bouncing to the satisfying rhythm. Though the festival looked extremely inviting, they continued on until the music was no longer detectable.

They finally reached Pleasant Place when a triangular stop sign swiftly rotated from ‘go’ to ‘yield’. Perplexed, Neeka said, “That’s strange, no one’s around.” Nevertheless she slowed down mindfully. Within a second Trish noticed a spotted crawler casually venturing across the trail and exclaimed, “Look! Good thing the sign warned us. I love those furry little creatures!”

Both girls appreciated how the elegant stop sign gave such eloquent demands. Neeka realized her companion likely didn’t know the significance of this one in particular. As they pulled up to Polo’s driveway she asked, “Did you know that was the original triangular stop sign?”

“No way they’re everywhere, where did you hear that?” Trish replied with excitement.

“Dutta, Polo’s father invented it!”

Trish barely had enough time to process this, when the front door swung open. Polo stood there, staring back at them with curious blue eyes. His shaggy light brown hair fell over his face as he gave a bittersweet smile.

“I’ve been looking for Afkar! Have you girls seen him?”

“No in fact that’s why we’re here,” Neeka responded.

Polo invited the girls in and they began brainstorming where he might’ve gone. Trish asked, “Have you looked around his room for clues?” He replied, “I have and the studio’s locked.” Neeka raised her eyebrows and asked, “Where do you think he’d keep the key?” He shrugged. Moments later a light bulb went on in Trish’s head— “He always has it on him in Culinary Arts. Check his apron!” Polo raced to the room, and came back holding the key up in victory. He nodded at Trish and said, nice catch!”

They raced down the spiral staircase, and the girls marveled at Dutta’s intriguing oil landscapes and pages of music notations scattered all over the walls. By the time they reached the bottom floor everyone was feeling both inspired and dizzy. At that point everything felt poetic.

When they looked in the studio they were surprised to see hover board parts scattered in three. Old story books with torn out pages included tools needed and at what stages.

As the dizziness wore off, they refocused. Neeka pointed out that the two other sheets included checkmarks next to the tools needed under the diagrams. The third page, however, didn’t have a checkmark next to the yellow-stone. She concluded, “It looks like this engine requires extra power. He must’ve gone through the Gorians to get to the dry river beds.”

“I know just the Gorians he would’ve passed by,” Polo announced with confidence. “You two care to venture?”

Trish grimaced, “But aren’t the Gorians grumpy?”

“You could say that, but these ones are family friends,” Polo explained. “As long as we don’t stay there too long I don’t think we’ll have any problems.”

Trish agreed to go reluctantly, and moments later they climbed back up the twisty steps and stumbled out the door. They exited Pleasant Place in Polo’s Magneport and turned north on Harmony Way.

Hovering by tall blue pepper trees and various Kiblot homes, Polo and Neeka took in the environment. Trish on the other hand paid no attention to the dazzling scenery. Instead she ruminated on what Neeka said earlier about the Mantlers—‘cold hearts...quick to move, slow to understand.’ Polo observed Trish’s worried expression in his review mirror. “Everything all right?” he asked.

“If the Mantlers have no use for yellow-stone, they probably aren’t where Afkar would be, right?” Trish wondered wishfully.

“Unfortunately that’s not always the case” Polo explained. “The Mantlers don’t frequent the dry river beds, but they do pass them when they need to trade with the Gorians.”

As Polo breezed by another sign that had just switched from ‘stop’ to ‘go’, he reassured Trish, “He’ll be okay as long as he stays hidden.” Both girls nodded in agreement while they floated down the hill.

When they reached the reservoir’s edge, his hovercraft transformed into a boat. They floated halfway across the wide river when a whale fish jumped out of the water, its orange scales grazing Neeka’s wavy black hair. The three of them laughed uncontrollably.

After crossing the river, the Magneport switched gears to its primitive rolling function. When they arrived at the base of the mountain’s archway, Polo parked the car as Neeka and Trish looked up in amazement. “How beautiful” Trish remarked. “Wait till you see all the way through!” Polo exclaimed.

As they entered the tunnel home, Polo shouted, “Hello George and Diane, it’s me Polo, and I brought company.” Suddenly, they heard heavy footsteps and muffled dialogue. “I think it’s another Witmor,” the cave echoed back. Immediately, two rugged boulder-skinned creatures appeared from around the corner. The man grumbled, “We were about to eat dinner.” He turned to his wife and asked, “How many passer buyers are we going to encounter?” As if they were still alone. “We can leave,” Neeka suggested.

Diane murmered, “Nah, Heck you’re already here, we’ll fire up some more meat.” George walked back to the kitchen and yelled, “Ugh, we need more salt!” Diane shook her head, and told the Kiblots to follow her to the dining room table.

As they took a seat she said, “You gifted plums must be starving from your travels.” Before any of them could answer she waved an empty mug at George and commanded, “Up to the brim!”

Neeka gave Trish a look. George put down his spatula and trudged over with a massive teakettle, filling it obnoxiously full.

“Let’s get to the nitty-gritty, you’re looking for Afkar,” Diane said sternly. Suddenly uncut vegetables, potatoes and knives were thrown down in front of the Kiblots. “Start cuttin’!” George ordered. Trish rolled her eyes and Neeka muttered under her breath, “Did anyone say they were hungry?”

“No, but don’t anger them,” Polo whispered while picking up a knife.

Diane carried on, “He came through here about a week ago. We brewed him a lot of Wakeo leaf. I know you Kiblots love the stuff.”

“We’ve been growing it on our rooftop for years!” her husband added.

“Quite George, I’m telling the story!” Diane shot back. “Anyways, yeah, the roof’s a garden. We grow several vegetables like the ones you’re slicing, but we mostly strive ourselves on our Wakeo leaf. Afkar kept asking for more, so I said go up there and tend to it yourself. I’m tired of climbing up there! She paused, took a sip and then continued, “I’d offer you little plum heads some but he drank more than a Gorian would and I’m tryin’ to run business here.”

Before Polo could ask if they knew why Afkar’s been missing for so long, George yelled, “Bring me the choppings!” They handed their work to the cook and sat back down.

Polo was losing patience and needed answers. Matching the hosts’ demanding energy he announced, “We don’t need to eat, we just need Afkar!”

“All right I’ll cut to the chase,” Diane said with a serious tone. “He should’ve been back days ago. I’d guess he’s either locked up, or your brother’s…” she stopped, let out a sigh and said, “…dead.”

All of a sudden giant well-done pieces of meat appeared in front of them along with unevenly cut vegetables. Trish looked down at her plate and said, “I think I’m going be sick!” George took a seat next to Diane. Both their heads went straight to their plates, and the two began chewing aggressively. Slurps and slobbers prevented silence from occurring. Neeka and Polo slowly picked at their sides, avoiding the grey lifeless meat. After eating a considerable amount, Dianne said, “It’s flavorless! It needs more salt!” She twisted towards her husband and groaned, “The delivery should be here by now.”

Just as she said that, they heard a voice call out at the north entrance. It was too far away to make out, but Dianne was convinced she recognized the tone and exclaimed, “The delivery’s here!” George murmured, “About time.” She turned to the Kiblots and whispered, “Hide in my room, I don’t want a Mantler to see you.”

But before anyone moved, a clear greeting echoed through the tunnel, “It’s me, Afkar!” All at once the Kiblots switched from despair to complete ecstasy. They jolted out of their chairs and ran down the hall.

At a distance, his body formed a silhouette against the setting sun. When they moved closer, his smile was as magnetic as Eazeville’s trails. His dreadlocks swung around his dirty camouflaged attire as they all jumped for joy.

“Man, am I happy to see you guys!” Afkar cheered.

After giving him a hug, Neeka playfully pushed his shoulder and asked, “What took you so long!?”

“Seriously, did you travel by turtle back?” Polo joked.

“Ha-ha no, but I did encounter a few desert turtles,” he laughed.

Trish asked, “What happened out there?”

“I hate to be a bearer of bad news, but while I was at the dry river I overheard two Mantlers talking about their city’s plan to invade Eazeville. In order to make sure it wasn’t a rumor, I journeyed to their headquarters and spied.” He gulped and confirmed, “The Mantlers are going to attack our land, and they have a special weapon.”

“What?” Polo asked in dismay.

“Dragons!” Afkar said hesitantly.

“No, the Gorian’s won’t let that happen!” Neeka gasped. Trish remained wide-eyed.

Afkar said sternly, “But dragons can fly.”