Rude Awakenings

by Jonathan Eaves

he had always considered himself more of a lover than a fighter, although, if he was totally honest with himself, he wasn't really much of either.

  Progress was good whilst the morning was cool and it was still before mid-day when they reached the edge of the forest and strolled out upon the rolling green turf of the Uppen Downs. But all too soon the going began to get tougher as the land rose and fell in increasingly steep undulations, and the heat from the sun became increasingly intense.

  Trying to ignore his discomfort, Anyx allowed himself to think of the onward journey to Tri Via once Azif had been released to them, purposely ignoring just how exactly they were going to achieve the Moor's liberation. In order to reach Tri Via they would, at some point, have to cross the fast-flowing River Syx, somewhere outside the confines of the city walls. The dwarf knew of no such crossing east of the city and was trusting that Azif did indeed have some knowledge in that regard.

  The three of them trudged on for another two hours, increasingly breathless, before Anyx brought them to a halt. 'Let's take a break,' he panted. 'And grab a bite to eat.'

  Too tired to talk they all munched on the dried meat that Brother Grub had provided for them and then lay back on the springy grass. Bees buzzed lazily around their heads in the unseasonably warm weather, and Anyx found himself becoming drowsy. Reluctantly he hauled himself to his feet. 'Come on,' he said to the two others, 'we need to get going. We need to be at Marasmus before midday.'

  33

  Shortly after Anyx, Will and the Maid A'Veil had made their way out of the clearing, Robin and the remaining Merrie Men struck camp. It had been decided that Lenny probably wasn't fit enough to undertake several days arduous travel over rough terrain; therefore he would return to Marasmus and keep his ear to the ground, though obviously not literally. Should he hear anything that could affect the mission he would send a pigeon to Tri Via.

  Annabel led the way with a reluctant and drowsy Doctor Dosodall walking alongside her, her rump swinging rhythmically which was strangely hypnotic...

  Robin, despite the fact that only Annabel knew the way, had suffered misgivings that the elephant might slow up the group but as it turned out it was Annabel who set the pace. There were a couple of reasons for this. Firstly, elephants in their natural habitat are always on the go, pausing only to eat and have the occasional half hour nap. Secondly the Merrie Men, although forced to live in the woods by circumstance, could hardly be called outdoor types. They were all very definitely city dwellers and knew little of the land other than the forest, the downs and the city itself. Ron, for example, had been a butcher before he felt the calling of the Merrie Men. You could tell just by looking at him - huge round belly, ruddy red face and a big white and blue stripy apron. Then there was Brother Grub, a first class gourmand but not exactly possessed of the physique and fitness required for such a demanding trek. And Robin didn't even dare consider the question of the topography that would confront them all. Not one of them had ever seen the Sodden Marsh, let alone traversed it. Yes, crossing the marsh was going to be difficult, he knew.

  He regarded the gently swaying backside of Annabel with a lingering sense of unease. Yes, currently she was leading the way, but the going underfoot at the moment was good, whereas once they reached the marsh it would be a different matter completely. Annabel originated, he presumed, from the hot, dry, dusty plains of the South and would not be at all used to the swampy terrain. And surely her massive weight would make her sink? Oh well, he thought, there's no point worrying about it until we get there, and there were quite a few hours of travel ahead of them before they reached the marsh.

  34

  The ancient city walls of Marasmus were thick, but not, as it turned out, quite as thick as the two small troll guards who confronted Anyx as he approached the Southgate.

  The dwarf had left Will and the Maid A'Veil in a disused, practically derelict croft situated about half a league south of the city which he had, on occasion, used as a bolt-hole when the bailiffs had taken too close an interest in him. The ruined walls of the croft were well-screened by dense foliage and a small forest of overgrown weeds, and the dwarf was confident that no-one else knew of its existence. His companions would be safe there, he was sure. And now, as he drew closer to the guards, he braced himself for his inevitable arrest.

  The two guards were deep in discussion and didn't notice the dwarf's approach.

  'S'posed to be doin' the garden today. Wife'll bloody kill me when she sees it's not done. Bloody terrorists!' the larger and mossier of the two trolls complained.

  'Too bloody right, Shale,' agreed the smaller troll, whose name was Scree. 'My boss has said enough is enough. Reservist or not, he said, any more time off and it's the sack for me. I didn't join the T.T.G.[22] to be a bloody soldier. It was just something to do at weekends, and get a little extra cash.'

  'Yeah! An' what I want to know is what are the bloody so-called proper soldiers doing, eh? Prob'ly swannin' around whilst we do all the bloody work, that's what.'

  'Most prob'ly marching and drilling and whatnot!' Scree agreed. 'Practising bein' soldiers so it's left to the likes of us to do the real thing!'

  Anyx waited for a pause in the flow of complaint before stepping forward. As he listened he decided that the direct approach was best.

  'Er, excuse me,' he said. 'My name Anyx Abychson. I'm the one that you want.'

  Shale and Scree both looked the dwarf up and down.

  'You're not the one that I want, that's for sure,' said Scree, after a few seconds. 'You'd have to be a lady troll for starters.' The two part-timers thought this was what soldier humour was, and therefore hilariously funny.

  'Yeah,' agreed Shale. 'Like Amethyst, now she's a real lady.'

  'Who?' asked Scree.

  'You know, Amethyst,' said Shale. 'Barmaid at the Craggy Face. Fantastic pair of handholds.'

  'Don't let your missus hear you talking like that,' Scree warned his mate. 'She'll have your rocks in a vice before you know it...'

  'Ahem, I don't mean to interrupt your erudite and scintillating conversation,' the dwarf interjected, 'but I'd really appreciate it if you could arrest me and take me to see Captain Grantt.'

  The two trolls looked at each other. 'Why would you want us to do a thing like that?' asked Shale, in genuine amazement.

  'Yeah,' agreed Scree. He lowered his voice. 'He's a right bastard, that Captain Grantt.

  Anyx sighed. In a stupid race it was obvious that these two would run even Ron very close.

  'Okay,' he said. 'I'll start from the beginning, shall I? Yesterday, outside a pub called the Golden Griffin-'

  'Don't know it,' declared Shale.

  'Yes you do,' Scree argued. 'It's down Mudbucket Street. Bit of a dive, actually. Not a patch on the Craggy Face.'

  '-outside the Golden Griffin there was an explosion,' Anyx persisted, 'which was caused, allegedly, by a dwarf who is suspected to be a member of an illegal underground organization.'

  'Really?' said Shale. He beckoned the dwarf closer. 'Fascinating, do go on.'

  'And that dwarf is now on the wanted list... probably. Consequently the Trollian Army is no doubt looking for him far and wide.'

  'Are they... we?' asked Scree.

  Anyx nodded. 'Yes you are.'

  Shale looked thoughtful, a rare achievement for a troll. 'Hang on, I'm sure the Sarge said something about that when we came on watch,' he recalled.

  'Oh yeah,' Scree agreed. 'Something about keep your eyes peeled for a short-arsed piss-head-'

  'And I am that short-arsed piss-head!' Anyx declared.

  '-cos the Captain wants to rip his legs off and beat him about the head with the soggy ends,' Scree went on. 'Here, what did you say?'

  'Um...'

  'Here, what did the Sarge say the short-arse was called?' asked Scree, totally ignoring Anyx.

  Shale frowned as he tried to remember. 'Something like... Onyx, maybe.'

  'Nah, Onyx is the other barmaid at the Craggy Face. Lovely crevasse if I r
ecall.'

  'Hang on,' said Shale, looking at the dwarf with interest for the first time. 'What did you say your name was.'

  Oh sod it, thought Anyx. In for a penny...

  'Look, as I said at the start, I'm the one you're looking for.' At least his legs were short, he thought; Grantt wouldn't be able to get much leverage. 'So you'd better arrest me. Hey, you never know, you might even get a commendation.'

  'Do you think?' asked Shale. A commendation might just be the thing to persuade his wife that neglecting the upkeep of the garden was inevitable in carrying out his military duties and therefore she might consider not emasculating him.

  'No doubt,' agreed Anyx. 'Maybe even a promotion,' he continued, laying it on thick.

  'Mm, Corporal Shale,' said the troll, trying the name out for size.

  'Sergeant Scree,' said Scree.

  'Sergeant-Major Shale,' offered Shale.

  'Captain Scree,' Scree responded.

  'Major Shale,' Shale retorted, jabbing a finger at Scree.

  'Colonel Scree,' Scree replied, punching Shale in the shoulder.

  'Colonel!' Shale spat. 'You'll never be a Colonel as long as I have a fissure in my backside.'

  'And if you were a Major you'd have a bloody mutiny on your hands! Who'd take orders from you, eh?'

  'Enough!' Anyx shouted in exasperation. 'Will you just please arrest me, and then you can continue this intriguing and intellectually stimulating debate afterwards.'

  'He's right,' said Shale. 'Stick the handcuffs on him.'

  'You stick the bloody handcuffs on him, Major!'

  'I'll bloody do you for insubordination!'

  'Give me the damn cuffs,' shouted the dwarf. 'I'll put the bloody things on myself!'

  35

  As the Merrie Men approached the southern-most reaches of the Sodden Marsh Robin was still mulling over the potential problem of Annabel traversing the swamp, but his biggest problem right now was simply finding a way through. They would need a guide, he was sure, and so it was with amazement at their good fortune that they spotted an ageing, faded sign which read,

  Swamp Guide - This Way

  Robin pondered the sign a moment before shrugging 'Curious,' he said, turning towards the others. 'Alright, it's probably best if you lot wait here whilst Ron and I go and find this guide.'

  The two of them set off in the direction of the arrow and shortly came upon a small run-down hut, its once green paint flaking and peeling, with an even more faded sign.

  Welcome to Discover Sodden Marsh. Daily Tours. Excursions to Sodden Edge by Appointment. Boggart Spotting Guaranteed!

  'What the flamin' hells is a boggart?' asked Ron.

  'If I recall correctly,' Robin replied, 'a boggart is a bog or swamp-dwelling creature whose major tendency is to suck out your life-force should you be unlucky enough to meet one. However they do also tend to be very shy, fortunately enough for us.'

  Ron looked puzzled, although this wasn't exactly a rare occurrence. 'So why exactly would anyone want to 'spot' one?' he asked.

  'Ah, now, I've heard of these... safari freaks,' Robin answered. 'There are lands well to the south of here,' he continued, 'where lions and leopards roam free, hippos and crocodiles infest the rivers, each and every one of which will kill you as soon as look as you. But here's the thing; people ride out on the back of carts so that they can see them.' He shook his head in disbelief. 'They even take little paint boxes with them so that they can record the experience. Mad, just plain mad-'

  Robin's explanation was suddenly interrupted by a slow, deliberate and extremely watery voice. 'Hello,' it slurped. 'How may I help you?'

  36

  It had been Anyx's plan to demand an audience with Grantt and put the ultimatum to him. However, things hadn't quite turned out that way.

  The Territorials, Shale and Scree, had handed him over to the Sergeant-at-Arms of the Castle Guard, who promptly had him thrown into the cells. The dwarf's protests - that he had to see