Tales From a Second Hand Wand Shop- Book 1: They Were the Best of Gnomes. They Were the Worst of Gnomes.

by Robert P. Wills

  As he left, the Warrior heard the Gnome singing;

  We’ll be leavin’ the Garrison in the ‘morn!

  We’ll be leavin’ the Garrison in the ‘MORN!

  We’ll be leavin’ the Garrison,

  leavin’ the Garrison,

  leavin’ the Garrison,

  IN THE ‘MORN!

  Shaking his head, The Master at Arms decided that he would definitely be accompanying the General in the inspection. The Golems would handle getting rid of the rabid Gnome.

  The next morning, a squad of regular Mark III Golems arrived at the stocks.32

  “Ahhh,, Yer suppos’d to be ... ahhh” the head Golem (appointed because it was twice as smart as the rest of his squad) stopped for a moment, “ahhh. Goin.” He looked at the Gnome. “Ahhh.. away.” It finished triumphantly. The others grunted in agreement, marveling at how eloquently their Squad Chief had put it. “So ahhh .... when we ... ahhh ...”

  The Golem looked up at a passing bird. When it looked back down at the Gnome, it had forgotten what it was saying.

  “So when we unlock the stocks” offered Grimbledung.

  “Ahhh... yeah. When we unlock the stocks,” the Golem agreed, “when we unlock the stocks.”

  Both Grimbledung and the Golem stared at each other. Finally, Grimbledung broke the silence, “You’re not supposed ...” He coaxed.

  “Yah... Ahhh you’re not supposed to make any .... any…Ahhh...” He furrowed a clay brow. “Ahhh trouble?” He offered.

  “Yes. I promise I won’t make any trouble.”

  “Kill Gnome now?” Asked another Golem. The other three nodded. Surely, this Golem was going to be the next Squad Chief.

  “Ahhh... no.” The Golem thought back to his orders. “Ahhh. Only if the Gnome squirms. Then we kill ‘im really most sincerely dead.”

  A third Golem popped open the shackles and appraised the Gnome. Grimbledung didn’t move a muscle. He was not sure what the threshold was between squirming and stretching. Golems were notorious for misunderstanding orders. This was mainly due to the fact that they usually had rocks, or in this case, clay for brains.

  “Ahhh... now ... ahhh,” began the Golem Squad Chief, “Ahhh ... to the wagon.” He pointed with a roughly molded clay arm as thick around as Grimbledung’s leg. “Ahhh... thataway.” His fingers looked like cut down table legs stuck into clay pot palms. The troubling part was that they might very well have been just that.

  Grimbledung hopped up smarty -with what he hoped was no squirming at all- and moved directly to the wagon. When he got there, he sat down promptly and didn’t move a muscle. The other Golems looked crestfallen that he didn’t cause a ruckus. Word had spread quickly around Prost Garrison that there was a mad Gnome inside the walls and it was discovered in an unfortunate series of events to be both a biter and a spitter. “Let’s go Messrs Golems,” said Grimbledung, “I’m ready when you gents are.”

  Dejected, the Squad Chief moved to the front of the wagon. There was a Shaggy-tailed Shambler harnessed to the front of it. “Ahhh. who’s comin?” It asked.

  One of the golems trudged forward and got into the wagon beside Grimbledung. “Run and’ll knock yur head clean off,” it said flatly. “Clean. Off.” It swung its huge fist in an uppercut motion. Disturbingly, it made a ‘whooosh” sound as it went.

  “Ahhh. Sit up ... ahhh here,” said the Squad Leader. The other Golem obliged. Since Golems weren’t made of flesh they didn’t tire in a chase, so any attempt to run from the wagon would be fruitless- even if Grimbledung weren’t a squat Gnome. “Ahhh... GO!” The Golem cracked a whip at the Shambler and it began to trot out of the Garrison.

  After an hour of bouncing around in the back of the wagon, Grimbledung was bored; it was a clear blue sky so there were no clouds to look at, so he took to hanging over the side of the wagon to look at the countryside. With a quick warning that consisted of two words- “clean off,” the Golem up front made sure that was as far as Grimbledung got to getting out of the wagon.

  Another hour later, even the rolling countryside couldn’t keep Grimbledung’s’ attention. “I’m bored” he said to no one in particular.

  The Golems didn’t respond; they were adept at ignoring prisoners; whether they were complaining or shrieking in terror, they paid no mind. Finally, Grimbledung spotted a caravan approaching. At least that’ll be interesting for a little bit. He sat up and watched it approach. It looked like a spice caravan since the Shamblers were outfitted with barrels and sacks. As they approached, the lead Shambler began to look familiar. The closer it got, the more forward Grimbledung leaned. Soon, he was sitting between the two Golems. Since sitting between them did not violate the “Do not. NOT! Let the Gnome out of the wagon. NOT out of the wagon. NOT until you get to town” rule, the two Golems allowed it.

  Much to their annoyance, Grimbledung began hopping on the seat from foot to foot, using the Golems for support. “Rat! Raaaat!” He shouted.

  ‘Clean Off’ Golem swiveled his massive head to look at him angrily, but now, Grimbledung was ignoring it.

  “RAT!!” He cheered, alternating between pumping his fists in the air and holding onto the top of the Golem’s head.

  RatShambler was lost in thought, deciding whether to pitch the Wagon Driver his business proposal or just eliminate him altogether when he heard his name being called. He looked up and there, hopping between two stern looking Golems, was Grimbledung. Grimbledung who not three weeks ago, was really and truly dead. Grimbledung. The Gnome who he had mourned for the nearly three weeks- starting the next day since sneaking out of town in the dead of night (a lone Shambler does tend to draw attention – even in Aution) to avoid the Constable. Grimbledung, who had the ability to return him to his comfortable (and less identifiable) glory as Rat. He picked up a trot to close the distance quicker. “GRIMBLEDUNG!” He called, much to the surprise of not only the other Shamblers, but the men working the caravan. “I’m going to kill you!” He moved to a full gallop. “You maniacal Gnome!”

  Grimbledung leaned forward, using the Gnomes to keep him on the wagon. ‘Kill you’ wafted on the breeze to his ears. “Wait, what?” Grimbledung asked. He leaned back. “Maybe we should just keep going.” He prodded ‘Clean Off’ Golem on the side of its neck, “How’s that sound to you? Just go straight to town with no stopping.” He poked the Golem again.

  It peered down at him with annoyance somehow conveyed in the fist-sized rocks that were its eyes. The Golem looked at its Squad Leader. “Dump’im here?” It suggested.

  The Squad Leader looked from its cohort to the Gnome and back. “Uhhmmm .... Yeah.” Without ceremony, and more importantly without stopping, ‘Clean Off’ Golem grabbed Grimbledung by the back of the neck, heaved him around to the side of the wagon, and let go. In what was a completely inadvertent act of mercy, the wagon veered away from Grimbledung as it did an arc to return to Prost Garrison.

  Grimbledung rolled to a stop and stood. RatShambler was nearly upon him. “I can explain!” Began Grimbledung. RatShambler skidded to a halt in front of him. After a moment, Grimbledung shuffled his feet in the dirt, “Actually I can’t. I have no idea how most of this happened. I think I was dead for the important bits.”

  RatShambler shook his head. “I can’t believe you. How is it you’re alive? Can you explain that?”

  “Ooohhh! That part yes! The Army doctor at Prost Garrison brought me back to life to make me a conscript.” He beamed in satisfaction.

  “How did you even get to Prost Garrison?”

  “Dead for that part,” explained Grimbledung glumly.

  “So why didn’t you contact us?”

  “Ohhh! That one I know!” He hopped back and forth. “I was in the stockade.” Grimbledung thrust his fists in the air.

  “You were in stocks for three weeks?” RatShambler Gaped.

  “Well, I don’t know how long I was dead but once I was alive again, it took just the rest of that day to be put in stocks. If it’s been three weeks, then I was
in for three weeks.” He smiled proudly- He was getting answers right! “Ask another one, I’m on a roll!”

  “Do you know who killed you?” Asked RatShambler hesitantly.

  Grimbledung frowned. The streak was over. “No. That’s kind of fuzzy. The last thing I remember was we were riding home in the wagon from Big Julies and we were almost to the Shop.” He furrowed his brow with concentration. “That’s about it.”

  “Fine by me. Say, want to go home? I’m tired of being a Shambler. They don’t take nearly enough naps,” said RatShambler.

  Grimbledung perked up. “Do I? Let’s go!” He resumed hopping back and forth.

  The caravan finally caught up to the pair and the Trail Master approached them. “Say there ...” He paused because he was unsure of what to call his apparently talkative Shambler. “Shambler?” He tried. “We’re tryin t’get to town with that stuff. I’d ‘preciate it if’n you’d get back in the train.”

  RatShambler looked at the Trail Master. “Here’s the deal, Cutter,” he began, “I quit as of right now. I’m a free Shambler and I’ve decided that I’m through working.”

  Cutter just looked at RatShambler openmouthed; he was accustomed to having to deal with beasts of burden, but not accustomed to have them deal back.

  “So, here’s what I’m going to do for you.” RatShambler winked at Cutter, “I’ll tell the other Shamblers to work really hard for you so you make up the loss of me and my cargo. I imagine I can gain you a good couple of days on your routes.”

  Cutter considered the offer and closed his mouth, now his eyes were wide.

  “How’s that sound?”

  “That sounds good’t me. Coupla days ‘ere and ‘aire will add up.” He stuck out his hand then rethought the action and lowered it. “Deal?” Said Cutter.

  “Deal. Let me tell the other Shamblers.” RatShambler moved off to the head of the silk train and began to grunt as he walked down the line of beasts.

  Cutter and Grimbledung stared at each other in the prolonged silence. “Sure has been hot out here,” offered Grimbledung.

  “Nary a cloud in th’ sky,” said Cutter

  “Yep.”

  “Yep.”

  Finally, to both of their relief, RatShambler returned. “OK. It’s all settled. Just keep them in food and water, and it’s all set.” RatShambler moved beside Grimbledung, “Climb aboard so we can make good time.” He bent at the knees so that the Gnome could clamber on. “Nice doing business with you, Cutter,” said RatShambler as he walked off, leaving the confused Trail Master in the middle of the road.

  “You speak Shambler? I had no idea the enchantment gave that ability,” commented Grimbledung after they had walked a few minutes.

  RatShambler shook his head. “No, that would be an absurd effect for a Transmogrification spell. But if he gives those beasts more food and water than he currently does, they’ll definitely walk faster for him.” Soon, the rolling of RatShambler lulled Grimbledung to sleep and they continued the rest of journey in silence.

  Obviously; because one of them was asleep.