Sherlock Sam's Orange Shorts

by A. J. Low

  “WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!” Eliza shouted, her eyes wide. “What are you do—OOOF!”

  Nazhar slammed straight into her and they were both tumbled into the cavern (in as undignified a manner as possible) by the sheer force of his momentum. Eliza landed on her back and immediately shoved the stunned Nazhar off her.

  It was dark in the cavern, and she knew that darkness was not an adventurer’s ally, especially if one were a disreputable tomb raider. Eliza, however, preferred to think of herself as a for-profit explorer. Train tickets weren’t free, after all.

  “Ouch. That hurt a lot more than I thought it would,” Nazhar said, rubbing his back.

  Eliza glared and struck a match she had removed from her backpack. She lit her homemade wooden torch and the cavern was filled with an orange-yellow light.

  “What does your precious ancient text say we should do next?” she asked, holding the torch in front of her. The light illuminated three different paths in front of them. They couldn’t see much beyond the start of each path, however.

  “We’re supposed to head towards the whistling,” Nazhar said. He frowned and looked up at Eliza. “Huh. What whistling are they talking about?”

  Eliza closed her eyes and listened carefully. She had honed her five senses such that they were more heightened than those of most ordinary people.

  “It’s faint… Almost as if air were being channelled through the passage,” her eyes flashed open. “It must lead to another exit. C’mon. We’re taking the passage on your right.”

  Nazhar pushed up his glasses. He looked impressed.

  They both walked into the right-most passage with Eliza taking the lead. She held the torch high and in front of her, lighting the way.

  “Stay close to me,” she ordered.

  “Okay, we should find another passage up ahead, to your left,” Nazhar said, squinting at the text. “I think we’re supposed to crawl through that one.”

  “Of course,” Eliza muttered, rolling her eyes.

  “The text reads, ‘On hands and knees through this passage go, or lose one’s head the fate you sow,’” Nazhar continued. He looked up and shrugged. “It rhymes better in the ancient language.”

  Eliza sighed loudly.

  When they finally found the passage Nazhar had referred to, Eliza stopped and stared. With her hands on her hips, she turned and said, “It’s high enough that we can easily walk through it. Are you sure?”

  Nazhar looked down at his book and replied, “That’s what the text says.”

  Eliza’s eyes narrowed. Crawling did not appeal to her knees. The posture would leave them vulnerable to attack as well. Then an idea came to her. She gave Nazhar the torch, and told him to stay right behind her and do exactly as she did. She then crouched down, holding on to her staff and inched her way forward. Once she was almost inside, she carefully raised the staff. Immediately, twin scimitars swung violently from opposite sides of the two walls and took the top clean off with a loud thwack.

  Nazhar gulped.

  (Scraped) hands and (painful) knees it was, then. She took the torch back from Nazhar because he had almost burnt his eyebrows off.

  After about 100 complaint-filled metres, they found themselves in a large rectangular room with stone walls. It was completely empty.

  “Can I stand up now?” Eliza asked, turning back to look at the young historian.

  Nazhar frowned and carefully flipped a few pages forward, then flipped a few pages backwards.

  “It doesn’t actually say.”

  Eliza sighed for the millionth time and lifted her arm that was holding on to the torch. Her muscles were tense and ready to retreat at the slightest provocation.

  Nothing happened. Nothing was severed and no one was decapitated.

  Carefully, Eliza stood up. Nazhar followed. She grinned. Suddenly, she looked like the cheeky 11-year-old girl that she was.

  “Odd—there’s nothing here,” Nazhar said walking towards one of the walls. He ran his fingers over the cool stone. He looked at Eliza and shrugged before returning to his text.

  Eliza held the torch up and scanned the ceiling. She then lowered the torch and peered at the ground. Her eyes narrowed.

  Abruptly, she jumped.

  Nazhar started, almost dropping his book.

  She jumped again. Higher this time, so she landed with a greater impact.

  “I don’t think you should do that.”

  Eliza ignored him and jumped again.

  “It seems unnecessarily risky—” he continued, pushing his glasses up as he walked over to her.

  Suddenly, with a spectacular rumble, the ground beneath them caved in on itself!

  “OOOF!” Nazhar gasped as Eliza’s elbow connected with his tummy and she landed right on top of him in a tangled heap. Her wooden staff clattered to the ground right next to them.

  For a moment, they both lay there, too stunned to move. Nazhar was still clutching his ancient text. Fortunately, the torch that Eliza had been holding hadn’t burnt either of them or the book. Unfortunately, this was because the flame had been extinguished during the drop, which meant they were in almost complete darkness.

  Eliza scrambled to her feet. With a scratch and a hiss, the room was once again filled with light, and Eliza blew out the match she had used to relight the torch. Her eyes were fixed on the object that was in the centre of the room. It was the large stone tomb they had been searching for! Behind the tomb, two passages branched off from the room into the darkness.

  “Hold this and come with me,” she said, handing the torch to Nazhar and grabbing her staff in one smooth gesture.

  Nazhar quickly got to his feet. He walked closer to the tomb and saw that it was covered in the same hieroglyphics that the ancient text had been written in. He immediately knew it was a find of immense historical significance. They would have to be very careful to keep the entire object intact.

  Unfortunately, no one had told Eliza this. She had wedged her staff into a small crevice between the tomb and the large, flat, rectangular stone that had been laid on top of it. Grunting with effort, she managed to shove the rectangular stone from off the top of the tomb.

  Nazhar watched, horrified, as the stone loudly fell to the ground and cracked into three large pieces.

  “What have you done?!” Nazhar shouted, clutching at his head in horror.

  However, before she could answer, the cavern was filled with an ear-piercing shriek. Eliza and Nazhar’s hands immediately flew to protect their ears from the painful sound. The torch that Nazhar was holding fell to the ground, still lit.

  It was the same terrifying sound that Eliza had heard outside the cave! It had sounded so far away then because it had been underground!

  “Pick up the torch, Nazhar,” Eliza said, her voice calm and cold. The shrieking continued unabated, but it sounded closer now…and closer, almost as if it were moving towards them.

  Eliza picked her up staff and stood with both feet apart, bracing herself. Nazhar tried to imitate her stance, but he kept turning to look at her for reassurance.

  The shrieking came closer and closer still. It sounded as if it was almost in the same room as they were. Eliza remained stock still, but Nazhar was almost vibrating with nervousness. Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the horrific sound stopped.

  “There,” Eliza whispered. She tilted her head towards the two dark passageways. Now both Nazhar and Eliza could see a pair of gleaming red eyes hovering inside each passageway.

  “Are they…giant snakes?” Nazhar asked softly. He kept as still as he possibly could. “Their eyes are so close to the ground.”

  Eliza didn’t reply. She had not heard of shrieking snakes before, and if what Nazhar had said turned out to be true, their heads had to be enormous. She was tense, waiting for the creatures to attack.

  Nothing happened.

  The room was so silent Eliza could hear her own heartbeat. THUD. THUD. THUD.

  Sweat poured down Nazhar’s face, stinging his eyes. Un
consciously, he moved the hand holding the torch and the light shifted, causing the shadows in the room to shift as well.

  The shrieking suddenly began again. Eliza winced. The two pairs of gleaming red eyes rushed towards them!

  She lifted her staff, ready to do battle…with two scaly chickens?

  The twin creatures that rushed out were about the same size as chickens, but instead of feathers, they had reptilian scales. Like their fowl friends, they had extremely sharp beaks. They rushed towards Nazhar, seemingly drawn to the flame.

  Nazhar yelped and swung the fire right into the face of one of the reptilian chickens. It shrieked and fainted. Nazhar stopped and stared at the unconscious creature. He then turned to look at Eliza, who made a face and shrugged.

  She reached with her staff and bonked the other scaly creature hard on its head. It also let out a loud shriek and passed out.

  Eliza and Nazhar gawked at each other for three seconds, then at the two creatures for another five.

  “That was…easier than I had expected,” Eliza muttered.

  “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” Nazhar replied with a shaky grin.

  “Tie them up with the rope in my bag,” Eliza ordered, ignoring him. She grabbed the torch from Nazhar and quickly peered into the passageway. It seemed like the attack by the weird chicken-reptiles was over. She walked back to the open tomb.

  Nazhar looked totally grossed out, but he managed to tie both creatures together. Even if they woke up, they would not be able to attack Eliza and him. He contemplated tying their beaks shut to prevent them from shrieking, but couldn’t quite pluck up his courage to get that close.

  “I can’t believe you destroyed part of the tomb, Eliza!”

  “I’m a mercenary, Nazhar. Not an academic. My client wants what’s inside,” Eliza replied. She peered inside the tomb and frowned. “Argh. Not again,” she muttered.

  “What is it?” Nazhar was sufficiently intrigued to decide to leave his scolding for later.

  “It’s a scroll,” Eliza said. She sounded extremely bored.

  “A scroll?” Nazhar asked. He looked into the tomb and there it was—a rolled-up scroll.

  A very ancient one, from the looks of it. The parchment appeared dry and yellow. It had to be handled with care.

  “Yes, Nazhar. A scroll,” Eliza replied.

  Eliza took out a pair of gloves from her backpack and tugged them on. She then reached into the tomb and carefully lifted out the scroll. Nazhar realised that she knew what she was doing—the gloves would prevent the transfer of any oil or dirt from her hands to the scroll.

  “Remove the blanket from my bag and lay it on the ground,” she instructed. Nazhar did so.

  Gently, she laid the scroll on to the cloth and, ever so slowly, proceeding to unroll it.

  “It’s a map,” Nazhar said with awe in his voice. He was whispering, as if afraid that speaking too loudly would cause the scroll to crumble.

  “I can see that,” Eliza replied.

  Nazhar squinted at the ancient symbols. He opened his text once again and flipped through the pages until he found what he had been looking for. When he finally looked up at Eliza, his eyes were gleaming with excitement.

  “Let me guess,” Eliza said before he could say anything. “It’s a treasure map.”

  “Yes!”

  “Of course it is,” Eliza continued. “It’s always a treasure map.”

  “Why aren’t you excited?” Nazhar asked, confused.

  “Because this is the 16th treasure map I’ve found!” Eliza huffed, throwing her arms up in the air. “For once, I’d like to find actual treasure, rather than just maps!”

  Nazhar was silent for a moment. Then he snapped his book shut and said, “Then let’s go look for it.”

  Eliza narrowed her eyes and looked at the young historian. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve always given the maps to your clients, right?”

  Eliza nodded.

  “Well, this time, let’s go and look for the treasure ourselves!” Nazhar said, smiling.

  “No,” Eliza replied.

  “Why not?”

  “Because while you can sometimes read very specific directions, you are unable to follow them. Plus, you cannot read a map to save your life,” she said. “And if there were a hole in the ground, you’d find it and fall into it. I sometimes think you do things like that on purpose just to irritate me.”

  Nazhar looked offended.

  Eliza sighed and rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. But I’m in charge, understand?”

  Nazhar considered that for a moment, then nodded.

  Eliza then looked around the room, staring at the two passages that the weird fowls had emerged from. From her experience, one passage usually led to an exit, and the other to certain death. She put her hands on her hips and nodded at Nazhar.

  “Lead the way.”

  Nazhar grinned and pushed his glasses more firmly up his face. He opened his book, ran his fingers over the text, then gulped.

  He then looked up at Eliza and said, “How do you feel about hopping?”

  It was the start of a beautiful friendship (if somewhat fraught with danger).

  THE END

  There once was a young boy named Jimmy who was always smiling.

  No matter what he was doing—chores, lessons or training—he always had a huge grin on his face. The grin was so huge, in fact, that it was nearly bigger than he was.

  The village he grew up in was in the great nation of Katonglia. But it was so small, it didn’t even have a name. It was a collection of two-storey huts with intricately carved facades in bright colours. And everything was slightly pixelated.

  He was raised by three powerful women: his mama, the leader of the village, Chief Kim Lian; his mother, the great warrior, Vivian the Valiant; and the village shaman, Gina the Healer. They tried to teach him everything they knew, and Jimmy smiled throughout, especially when his mother attempted to teach him how to wield double swords the way she did. She called her twin swords Donna and Martha, and treated them as if they were her daughters. (This was her second set, however. Her first set had been named Rose and Amelia, but one had been lost in an alternate dimension, and the other had ended up in the past.)

  Jimmy was never really able to learn the technique properly, often falling down while attempting a move his mother performed with ease. But he always got back up with a smile on his face, and he always tried again.

  Then the bad times came. A Dark Sorcerer appeared out of almost nowhere, and deposed the rightful king, Nazhar the Wise. King Nazhar called upon the greatest warriors of the land to help him take back the throne; these included Eliza the Expert, Siva the Stout, Wendy the Wise, James the Good and, of course, Vivian the Valiant. They all answered the call. Vivian bade her son remember his lessons, and mind both Chief Kim Lian and Gina the Healer, then rode to meet up with King Nazhar and the other great warriors of the land.

  But the Dark Sorcerer defeated them all, and Katonglia was plunged into a dark and terrible age.

  Chief Kim Lian, Gina the Healer and the rest of the village mourned Vivian the Valiant. Jimmy alone never lost hope.

  He continued to smile.

  The village thought he had gone simple, but Chief Kim Lian and Gina the Healer knew otherwise. They continued his lessons, and tried to take some of his hope for their own, thereby multiplying hope in everyone’s hearts.

  One day, after lessons were over, Jimmy announced, “Mama, Auntie Gina, I’m going to help Mom defeat the Dark Sorcerer!”

  Chief Kim Lian and Gina the Healer looked at each other, and knew they would not be able to stop him, even if they wanted to.

  “It’s dangerous to go alone,” Chief Kim Lian said. “Take this.” She handed him a wooden sword. “This was your mother’s first practice sword, and she had it on her when she was sworn into King Anuar’s service. He was the king before King Nazhar.”

  “And you’ll need this too,” Gina the Healer sa
id, handing Jimmy three pouches. “These are magic pouches that have an unlimited capacity. One of the pouches also contains herbs that will cure any wounds you might receive on your journey.”

  “Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Auntie Gina.” Jimmy grinned a Jimmy-sized grin, and began his quest towards the Dark Sorcerer who was residing in King Nazhar’s castle—but not before tripping on the threshold of Chief Kim Lian’s hut.

  Jimmy travelled for many days, occasionally encountering the Dark Sorcerer’s monsters as they terrorised villagers. He would dispatch them as quickly as he could, usually while falling down multiple times. The monsters would drop coins or armour or weapons upon disappearing from this plane of existence. Jimmy would share the treasure with the villagers, who thanked him for his help.

  On one such occasion, Jimmy encountered a bed monster. It walked on four wooden legs and used its many pillows and blankets to attack. Its brass headboard face was twisted in fury. It was chasing down two children until Jimmy stopped it. Luckily, it was only a singlesized bed monster. Jimmy could defeat singlesized bed monsters with relative ease. Kingsized bed monsters, on the other hand, posed a greater challenge.

  “You’re for sleeping on, bed monster, not for chasing children!” Jimmy shouted.

  The bed monster guffawed before shooting pillows at Jimmy, knocking him over.

  Jimmy laughed. “These pillows are super fluffy!”

  The bed monster was slightly taken aback. It shot him with more pillows, but Jimmy laughed harder.

  “Good thing I’m invulnerable to pillows!” Jimmy said.

  The bed monster was starting to get a little worried. It decided to change tactics and try to scoop Jimmy up in a large blanket.

  But Jimmy was too fast. Also, too clumsy. When the bed monster got close to scooping him up, Jimmy would trip and the blanket would sail right over him. Unbeknownst to the bed monster, Jimmy was getting nearer and nearer to it with every trip, until he was finally right next to the bed monster. Jimmy gave it one huge thwack with his wooden sword and the bed monster disappeared in an explosion of pixels, leaving some armour in its wake.