easily?' he prompted.
Robin pondered this for a moment before turning to the doctor. 'The dwarf is right,' he said politely, a toff still, but a bloody tough toff, Anyx considered. 'How, exactly, did you know to head for Elmswood Forest in the first place? And what do you know of the Merrie Men?'
Lenny took another step forward. 'We had heard of a... an incident in the Golden Griffin. There were, um, rumours that the culprits were a group known as the, er, Merrie Men. We talked to the landlord's son who, I'm afraid, wasn't very happy and apparently you're all now barred.' The leper smiled apologetically. 'Anyway, the young man told us that he thought you lot were up to no good, talking about rebellion and suchlike, and, well, you sounded just the type of people we're looking for.'
Robin pinched the bridge of his nose. 'But that doesn't explain why you thought to search for us here in Elmswood,' he insisted.
'Ah, that was easy,' the doctor cut in. 'The lad got your address from the booking form.'
'What?'
'Apparently you had booked the meeting room, right?'
'It's really a bloody cellar,' muttered Robin. 'He really is a thieving bastard that Cleat. But... hang on a minute-' He turned to Ron. 'You gave Cleat our address?' he asked incredulously.
'He said he needed it,' protested Ron. 'For the invoice,' he added lamely.
'Invoice?'
'And, um, his mailing list,' Ron continued shamefacedly.
'I don't believe this,' Robin stated resignedly. 'You're a bloody idiot, Ron. Do you realize what you've done? It's only a matter of time before Grantt starts digging around and... well, it doesn't bear thinking about.' He jumped to his feet. 'Come on, we need to strike camp immediately. Gather your belongings, we've got to move-'
The doctor shook his head. 'Hang on a moment,' he said languidly, 'Grantt doesn't know about this place. It's true that he did apparently take a look through the invoices but fortunately for you lot, according to the lad at least, your invoice still happened to be in Cleat's apron, and even a troll is fearful of putting his hand down a barman's apron. Grantt is not on his way, I assure you.'
Robin paused. 'Are you sure?' he asked. 'Sure that Grantt doesn't know about this place?'
'Well, I'm sure he doesn't know about it right now. And I don't think that Cleat would give Grantt the information - he hates you lot but he hates Grantt more. That is, of course, unless Grantt decides to torture him-'
'Okay,' said Robin, slightly re-assured. He re-took his seat. 'Then you'd better tell us why you have sought us out.'
The doctor turned to Lenny. 'Well,' began the leper, 'I've been studying, um, belief systems for some time and, well, to cut a long story short, I think that I may have discovered a way of, well, resurrecting the gods.' He paused before continuing in his soft voice. 'Well, at least a god. Wacchus, to be more precise. You see, I have found an ancient prophesy...'
27
Dusk had settled and the forest had grown quiet, save for the occasional rustling of a badger[21] and the whippy crack of rotten timber as Annabel shifted her position. The elephant had wandered away from the group in order to think. The truth was that she was slightly worried, and not merely about the fact that they were going to have to rely on the Merrie Men, who, it must be said, didn't exactly inspire confidence. No, it was more than that, an uneasiness that she couldn't quite put her trunk on. Many years before she had forsaken the traditional role of the matriarch in order to follow what she saw as her calling; consequently she had borne no children of her own, but considered the spirits that talked to her to be her family. Of course, very few of them needed to be guided to the next watering hole over ancient pathways, or be protected from opportunistic lions, but to Annabel she was their matriarch and she would do all that she possibly could to help them. But this business with Wacchus was different. Most spirits that came through only wanted to pass on a message such as '...the money's in the teapot on the side...', '...I've met up with your Aunty Beryl and she says hello...' or, for those vindictive spirits who simply couldn't let go '...it's hidden and you'll never, ever find it - ha,ha,ha,ha,ha...'. For some reason the vindictive one's always ended their messages with 5 ha's. It was probably a rule or something. But Wacchus didn't merely want to pass a message to the living - he wanted to return to them! And that was the thing that was worrying Annabel; that in resurrecting Wacchus they could well be setting a very dangerous precedent. After all, what would happen if all the other spirits found out; it may very possibly cause a stampede, and Annabel, in her youth, had seen the effect of a stampede, and it wasn't a pretty sight. She shuddered at the thought. It was at times like this that she wished that elephants could bloody well forget! But, the fact of the matter was, she simply couldn't refuse to help a spirit when it had asked for her assistance. Oh well, she thought, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
28
Lenny produced a faded parchment and cleared his throat.
'When the God of Mirth has believers no more,' he began,
'And dwells in Abbadon, according to Lore,
There is but one hope for existence returning,
From within the people, there should be great yearning,
And from the races of the Farthest North,
One Called the Awakener shall be called forth,
Known across all the lands as a learn-ed healer,
But also, beware, a spirit-stealer,
And at His Birthplace on His Praise day,
Before the Great Orb has sailed away,
By quoting His First Word He'll awaken the God,
And all shall pronounce 'You sharp little sod!'
The Merrie Men looked around at each other in numbed silence.
'And who exactly is it who came up with this little gem?' asked Anyx eventually.
'Does it matter?' replied Lenny evasively.
'Well,' replied the dwarf slowly, 'just because somebody's a really bad poet it doesn't necessarily make them a prophet!'
'My sentiments entirely,' muttered the doctor.
29
Darkness was falling, without the aid of a safety net, as Anyx absentmindedly poked at the fire. All around him the Merrie Men, their faces illuminated by the flames, were engaged in lively conversation, animatedly debating Lenny's prophesy. The dwarf shook his head. Even Ron, despite his colossal stupidity, had immediately spotted the problem - 0r problems, plural, to more exact...
Firstly, no-one knew who this saviour, this Awakener, was. Secondly, where on Terra Infirma was Wacchus's birthplace? And thirdly, they had absolutely no idea what this first word was. It was impossible, the dwarf concluded, especially in the short period of time available to them. And that was aside from the fact that the whole thing was patently nonsense and that he was obviously currently surrounded by a whole troop of crazies!
He looked around at the group and noticed that the Doctor and Lenny were sitting to one side, taking no part in the deliberations; indeed the Doctor seemed to be asleep. Behind them Annabel was contentedly stripping the bark from a tree.
'I could just get up and go,' Anyx muttered to himself. 'And leave these madmen to their own devices. If anyone asks where I'm going, I could just say call of nature, and be miles away before anyone realises what's going on...'
But something prevented him from doing so. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was simply because he really didn't have anywhere to go right now. He turned his attention back to the conversation. Robin was talking excitedly. 'But it all fits,' he was saying. 'This is exactly how fate is supposed to work. It's got to be right, I'm sure of it.'
'What's got to be right?' asked Anyx.
Robin regarded the dwarf and a smile crossed his face. 'I think I've discovered who the saviour is,' he declared proudly.
'Really?' asked the dwarf, the doubt evident in his voice.
'Hells, yes,' Robin replied enthusiastically. 'Listen to this. The prophecy states that the saviour shall come forth from the races of the north, right?'
'So it would appear
,' agreed Anyx hesitantly.
'And what are the races of the north?'
'Trolls and dwarves, of course,' replied the dwarf.
'And the prophecy continues that the saviour, or Awakener, will be pronounced a sharp little sod.'
'So?' asked Anyx.
'Little, get it?' Robin jumped to his feet. 'It's not likely to be a troll if he's going to be declared a clever little sod. It's got to be a dwarf.'
Anyx rolled his eyes. 'But it's just an expression, for Gods' sake.'
Robin dismissed the dwarf's scepticism with a wave. 'I'm sure I'm right,' he insisted.
Anyx scratched absent-mindedly at his beard as he considered his response. Robin's theory, in the dwarf's opinion, bizarrely made some sense but even so...
'Okay, for the sake of argument,' he began, 'even assuming you're right and therefore this Awakener, should such a being even exist, is a dwarf, you're still no closer to working out who our mysterious saviour is. Face it, there's got to be ten thousand dwarves in Marasmus alone.'
'Ah, but that's where fate comes in,' Robin grinned.
And all of a sudden Anyx had a sinking feeling. He'd only known these nutters a few hours but he already knew how their enthusiasm tended to overcome their common sense. 'Oh no,' said the dwarf with a sense of foreboding. 'You think it's me, don't you? You think I'm the Awakener.'
'Yep!'
'But that's... ridiculous! I'm just a normal bloody dwarf. I'm not even from-'
'Look,' interrupted Robin. 'Like I said, that's exactly the way fate works; a hero is needed and, hey presto, a hero turns up. We need a dwarf and suddenly, out of the blue, you turn up. It's fate.'
'Out of the blue! You bloody kidnapped me!'
'A mere technicality...'
Anyx looked around wildly before his eyes came to rest on the leper. 'You seem to be relatively sane,' he said. 'What do you think of this absurd notion?'
Lenny shrugged, albeit very carefully. 'It's possible,' he said. 'That is generally the way fate works.'
'Oh Gods! You're as mad as the rest of them,' cried Anyx. 'What the hell is fate anyway!?'
'The ultimate agency that predetermines the course of events or, to put it another way, the inevitable fortune that befalls a person or thing,' replied the incredibly well read Lenny.
'Oh,' said Anyx, slightly knocked off his stride. 'Well, irrespective of that, I'm still not the bloody Awakener! I'm pretty sure I'd know if I was. I'd have a badge or something.' He span round to look at the faces which were all, to a man, and a woman, and an elephant, intent on him. Buggering hell, he thought, they all bloody believe it. I've really got to get out of here.
30
Whatever argument Anyx put forward he could not shake the Merrie Men's collective belief that he was indeed the Awakener.
'But, listen, I'm not even religious,' he'd insisted, to which Robin had answered, 'what's religion got to do with gods?' which was a line of reasoning that the dwarf had found difficult to argue with. In the end it had been agreed that the dwarf would continue to believe that he wasn't the Awakener whilst everyone else would continue to believe he was. But there was still another issue that required consideration.
'Whatever we decide to do about the prophecy, we've still got to go after Azif,' asserted Robin.
'But Wacchus's praise day is only 3 days from now,' countered Brother Grub, who was nominally the most devout of the group, and who now found himself being caught up in religious fervour. 'Can we afford the time?'
'Can we not?' Robin retorted. 'There's simply no way we can leave Azif behind-'
'Um, hang on a mo' but aren't you forgetting something here?' Anyx interrupted.
'What?'
'Well, we still don't know where Wacchus's birthplace is, or, for that matter, what the word thingy is.'
Lenny stepped forward. 'In which case,' he suggested, 'it may very well be a good idea to consult the, um... the Oracle of Tri Via.'
Robin stared at the leper as he considered this. 'Tri Via?
Rude Awakenings Page 10