Too Short

by G R Matthews

  Too Short

  By G R Matthews

  Text copyright © G R Matthews 2013

  All Rights Reserved

  In memory of

  Brian Tomlinson

  Not only did you give me your daughter for a wife, you taught me:

  - that there is never mushroom (much room) inside any building, object or space

  - that garlic gave you wind but then so did cheese, bread, and BBQ food

  - how big a repair job was by the number of cable ties needed to put it back together

  - you don’t need to speak French in France, a good pointing finger will suffice

  - to enjoy whiskey and whisky (there is a difference)

  - how to choose Red Wine from the selection on the shelf (pick the one from the emptiest shelf – that’s what all the locals drink)

  Table of Contents

  ESCAPOLOGY

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  TEA, DEATH AND BISCUITS

  AFTERWORD

  ESCAPOLOGY

  1.

  Zarun’s sword cleaved the goblin in two, green blood sprayed in a graceful arc to splatter against his white tabard. A dance to the left and his other sword impaled a second goblin, its lifeless body slipping cleanly off the oiled metal surface. He parried the strike of a third goblin and despatched it quickly then risked a glance to his left to determine how his friends were faring against the horde that had attacked them out of nowhere.

  “Eyes open!” The shout was a warning and an incandescent spark of fire flashed past him to incinerate another goblin.

  Zarun nodded his thanks to Gassum, the mage who had thrown the fireball. Taking a renewed grip on his two short swords he stepped gracefully back into the fight. His swords were a relentless windmill, rising and falling rhythmically, grinding away at multitude of goblins all around him. Green blood covered the floor, the flagstones turning slippery but still he was surefooted and unstoppable. One goblin managed a lucky slash that opened the flesh of his upper thigh. Even as his sword stabbed out in revenge, Edoclan’s healing magic dulled the pain and knitted the flesh back together leaving only the ragged line in his armoured leather trousers as evidence of his mortality. Within a few moments the battle was done and the friends were standing in a field of slaughtered monsters.

  “They look like children, don’t they?” Edoclan was the first to speak in the aftermath.

  “What they lack in size, they make up for in numbers,” Gassum replied pointedly.

  “The important thing is, they are dead and we are alive. Now, let’s move on we have to be out of here and set up a camp by nightfall.” Zarun’s pragmatism prevented the customary argument that always followed a fight. Sometimes they were an entertaining diversion but he was too tired and the hour too late to let the other two descend into bickering.

  “Itawhics thaster exum despatlic ceefoo tyhysle”

  The strange words exploded into Zarun’s ears and mind like one of Gassum’s fireballs. He reacted with instinct, not thought. Both swords seemed to leap from their scabbards, strapped crosswise to his back, to meet his hands. He sank into a fighting crouch and, spinning full circle, checked every angle of approach. There was nothing to be seen, but the words left him in a cold sweat.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Gassum’s voice was clipped with impatience.

  “Didn’t you hear that?” he replied.

  “Hear what? Can we get a move on, you’re the one who said we had to get out of here.” Gassum was already moving off, leaving a puzzled Zarun to re-sheath his swords and follow.

  2.

  Near the bottom of the complex of cells and torture rooms, Zarun was struggling to carry Gassum and escape the enemy troops that followed. Beside him, Edoclan was faring little better and blood was dripping from a wound on the Cleric’s forehead, a sure sign that things were going badly if he could not even muster the power to heal himself.

  “Turn left at the end,” Edoclan panted.

  “They’re gaining you know?”

  “I know, I know… just run.”

  The two of them ran on as fast as they could, carrying the comatose mage, turning left then right almost at random seeking an escape route. All the while the sound of footsteps was getting closer and closer.

  “All right, I know... sheeesh, give me a second won’t you?”

  Zarun shook his head. The voice had been coming clearer and clearer the past few days till, as now, he could understand every word. He’d given up reacting to it and did his best to blot out the burning pain in his mind when the voice spoke, always at times of stress. Edoclan and Gassum had both tried different spells, over the last few days, to see where it was coming from but with no success. The only impact had been the looks on his friend’s faces when he told them he was hearing a voice. Still, they trusted him and did not make too much of it, stranger things had been known in this world.

  “I’m out,” Edoclan’s voice was dull and lifeless, “we either fight here or surrender.”

  “I’ll put Gassum down out of the way. You take up position to the right side of the door and I’ll do my best to hold it. If they push me back, use your mace and brain them.” He followed his own instructions. “You ready?”

  3.

  The rats had learnt to keep away from him. The pile of little corpses near his feet acted as a barrier and warning to them. It still surprised him that he had killed so many in just three days, and mainly with his feet. Edoclan and Gassum each had their own little mounds of death but theirs were much smaller than his. It was when you were asleep that the rats got confident and would chance a scurry up your leg to nibble on any exposed flesh. With your arms permanently raised above your head by chains secured to an iron ring set deep in the wall, the only weapons you had left were your legs and teeth. At least if you bit their furry little bodies it was something to eat.

  “I told you I would do it, and I will. Five minutes peace and quiet, eh?”

  “Gassum, you still with us?” Zarun asked to distract himself from the voice.

  “I am,” the quiet, raspy response, “and before you ask, no. I still can’t release the chains.

  “Well, it’s done isn’t it?... You could have told me before I started, couldn’t you?”

  Zarun had ascertained over the past days of imprisonment that there was only one voice and that, for some reason, it always seemed irritated or annoyed. He could never make out whether the voice was male or female, though he suspected male, or why it was constantly angry. If anyone had reason to be angry, it was Zarun. He had been in some prison cells in his time but this one was the worst. It wasn’t just the rats; it was the damp, the cold, the lack of food but most of all it was the lack of threats from the guards. You knew where you were when a guard threatened you. It gave you a distraction and something to fight against. It kept you sane. But here, the guards didn’t speak, they just walked their patrol routes, armour and swords clanking in a discordant rhythm that he found deeply unsettling.

  “Edoclan, how about you, any progress?” Zarun turned to his left and, if anything, the Cleric looked in worse shape than Gassum.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Three days, my friend. You’ve been saying that for three days.”

  “When the chains fall off my arms you’ll know I’ve worked it out,” Edoclan sounded peevish, “until then give me a bit of peace and quiet.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be
up in a minute. Bloody hell, no peace and quiet anymore, bloody kids.”

  4.

  Zarun would never underestimate the stupidity of prison guards again. As soon as Edoclan had managed to free himself from the manacles and chains, losing a fair amount of flesh in the process, Zarun and Gassum were free too. At the sound of the guard’s footsteps, they formed a simple plan. Zarun hid in the shadowed corner and the other two pretended to be still restrained. The guard, obviously not believing his own eyes, opened the cell door and rushed in to investigate. Three against one were good odds for the friends and shortly they had a full set of keys, a sword, a knife and, more importantly, a guard’s uniform. Escape was going to be easy.

  “Well, what exactly did you expect me to be doing at this time of night?”

  To Zarun, the voice sounded even angrier this time. He still had no idea who the anger was directed at, and whilst its presence scattered his thoughts, he was getting used to pushing it to one side. Funnily enough, the days in the cell had been a good chance to experiment and learn to adapt to the voice’s presence. Climbing into the guard’s uniform, he made a small grunt of disgust at the warm and wet stain at the collar, evidence that the guard’s death had not been clean.

  “Don’t tell me what to do... It’s not stupid…”

  “Zarun, you ready? We haven’t got all day to wait for you to finish daydreaming,” Gassum demanded in a whisper.

  “Yes,” Zarun returned the whisper. “I’m ready. Give me the sword but keep that knife up your sleeve and for pity’s sake act like a prisoner, try to keep your gloating under control. A sword and a knife aren’t going to be enough to carve our way out of here.”

  Zarun knew, without looking, that Edoclan was giving his friend a smug look. “You too, Ed. Remember, you are still prisoners and I’m the guard. Look suitably prisoner-ish. Let’s go.”

  It was difficult to walk along the line of cell doors without using the keys to open every single one and let the prisoners go free. Some of the inmates spat at him as he walked by, others jeered. However, it was the cells where nothing came but a heavy silence, or those where whimpers or pitiful cries emanated that tugged hardest at his conscience.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Move on,” Edoclan whispered urging him and solving his moral dilemma. “We know we are innocent but these could be murderers, rapists, or the Gods know what else in there. Move on.”

  “Oh great, that’s really grown up isn’t it? Because that will solve everything, won’t it?”

  “That’s the prison door ahead. Once we are through that we act the part alright? If we can find some other uniforms for you two we should be able to walk right out of here,” Zarun explained.

  “I’ll need my stuff,” said Gassum.

  “No.” Edoclan was determinedly clear.

  “Some of those things took years to find, make and enchant.”

  “Then you’ll have something to do with the rest of your life won’t you, but at least you’ll have a life,” Edoclan said bluntly.

  “If we happen across any of it on our way out, we’ll think about taking the chance,” Zarun spoke with quiet diplomacy, “but let’s focus on getting out alive. We can always help you to replace it all later on.”

  “I bought it with my money. I don’t see why you should suddenly think you are in control of my life. God’s sake, what does it take to just get some peace and quiet round here. I don’t ask a lot do I? Well, apparently it’s too much!”

  Zarun took a deep breath, unlocked the prison door and walked out into the main castle corridor with his two prisoners in tow.

  5.

  “Come on, faster,” Zarun implored the two friends.

  “Right… behind… you… don’t worry… about us.” Ragged breaths interspersed Gassum’s words.

  “We spend time together, every bloody day, don’t we?”

  Four days into their escape from the enemy castle and they were all tired. For Zarun, not only was hunger and thirst a problem, but the voice was almost as constant a companion as the cleric and mage.

  “For Christ’s sake, do we have to come back to that again and again? It’s just a way to pass the time.”

  “Stop, stop,” Edoclan panted. The three slowed down and took cover behind one of the thicker trees in the forest.

  “OK, two minutes,” Zarun agreed. “Gassum, confuse the trail again.”

  “We do everything you want, when you want. What about me? What do I get? Bloody nagged all the time that’s what… No, I’m not always out here am I? That’s blatantly a lie.”

  The voice was getting louder, loud enough to drown out Gassum’s incantations. It was getting harder and harder to ignore. Exhaustion, lack of food and water, and the fear of capture were not helping with the task but it was more than that. The voice was becoming more insistent, almost as if it knew he was trying not to listen.

  6.

  The world was dark but the smells tickling his nose were those of the woodland, the damp sweetness of mud, the acid sharp burn of pine needles, and the comforting dustiness of dead wood. He knew he was moving. He could feel his feet dragging along the carpet of the forest floor, snagging on the fallen branches and young saplings. These sensations were clear but sight and sound eluded him. Apart from the voice, it was his world.

  “What are you going on about? … Well, what about last week? … We went to your mother’s didn’t we? … Its time together isn’t it? … For crying out loud, a whole week at your mum’s and your still not happy… Well, arrange a babysitter then… Me? I’m not the one with all the friends am I? Call up what’s ‘er name. Sarah, yeah, Sarah, she’ll do it, won’t she?”

  He felt a cool touch against his lips. A sustaining trickle of tasteless water brushed his tongue and tickled the back of his throat. He swallowed instinctively.

  “OK, OK, I’m ready. You look good. Where are we going?... Me? I wasn’t making the reservation. Well, that’s just great isn’t it… dressed up, babysitter and no bloody reservation. What now, eh? What now?… Come on, let’s just go out we’ll find somewhere… Come on love, stop crying it’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

  7.

  Lying down, back sinking into a rough mattress. Blanket, prickly against his skin. Prickles, irritating.

  “You did what? … What do you need a lawyer for?”

  Warm fluid. Meaty taste. Broth.

  “Come on, we don’t need to do that… It happens to all married couples, they drift apart sometimes… I know, I know… I can try harder. What do you want to me to do? Anything. Honestly.”

  Pain. Stomach. No. Bladder. Relief. Warmth.

  8.

  “We can work this out… we can. Please, Claire, we can. I can change, I know I can. It can’t end like this.”

  Breath.

  “What about the kids? This will tear them to pieces, what are they going to do? Claire, please, please. I can’t go through this. I’ll change.”

  Heartbeat.

  “You can’t take them away from me, please, you can’t. How can I tell my parents? You can’t do this, please.”

  Breath.

  “This isn’t fair. This is just not fair. What have I done wrong? I never hit you. I never slept around. God knows enough of my friends have but I haven’t, I swear. Please, explain it to me, I can change, I’ll do anything. I love you. Don’t do this. Please.”

  9.

  “Neglect… she’s citing neglect as the reason.”

  Exhale.

  “When have I ever neglected her? For Christ’s sake, we have a good house, two kids, everything she could want! I work a lot but I have to, to pay for it all. She can’t be complaining about that.”

  Inhale.

  “A game. A lousy computer game! You can’t be serious! She’ll be laughed out of court, surely... Addiction? I’m not addicted, I’m not… How the hell can they do that? I don’t believe it… You reckon those gaming logs will be enough?”

  Exhale.

  Darkness.r />
  HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW?

  1.

  THE TIMES: SATURDAY 22nd AUGUST 2011

  ALZHEIMER’S BREAKTHROUGH

  Scientists at the Cambridge based bio-tech firm ‘Bio-Life’ claim to have isolated the gene responsible for aging. Dr. Gurdeep Singh claims this discovery will pave the way for treatments of age related illnesses such as Alzheimer’s disease. Dr. Singh explained that there was still much work to be done to unlock the full potential of his team’s discovery.

  2.

  THE SUN: THURSDAY 12th JANUARY 2012

  AGE DEFYING CREAM IS REAL!

  Noted scientist, Dr. Gurdeep Singh, has signed a contract with L’Oreal and by the spring you will be able to buy his magic age defying cream on the high street. Dr. Singh claims that the secret ingredient in his cream will prevent the skin from aging instead of just hiding the signs.

  “This isn’t some cosmetic company’s trick,” he said. “This is not phoney science, this is real science.”

  Hector and Humble, the target of Dr. Singh’s comments, have filed a libel lawsuit against him claiming, “We have been the most popular brand of skin cream for many years – women are loyal to our brand because it works. Dr. Singh’s comments make a mockery of our customers and we have a duty to defend them.”

  Dr. Singh was unavailable for comment on this latest development.

  3.

  NATURE: MONDAY 3rd DECEMBER 2012

  SCIENTIST UNLOCKS SECRET TO ETERNAL LIFE

  Bio-life, the company that produces the world’s best-selling anti-aging cosmetic cream, have announced that their research into the age gene has progressed to the point where they are now able to switch it on and off using the latest nano-biotechnology. Human trials are expected to commence early next year.