The most painful experience is suspense. Nothing torments a mind more than not knowing the truth of the matter.

In fact it is this suspense that causes the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth of the damned.

“Noah knows I’m the Gnolaum?”

“Yes.”

“He’s looking for my friends, so he can round them up?”

“Yes.”

“…and bring theme here too…?”

“To send them with the rest of us.”

“Which is?”

Tabbermain gulped, but didn’t reply. The blood drained from his face.”

Okay, this is bad. “You can’t tell me…or you won’t tell me?” Wendell prodded. Whatever the gnomes had done to him, the Ithari was able to fully restore his strength and work the soreness from his muscles. Though he was still chained to the altar, it was more frustrating than painful at this point. He looked to the other two gnomes, but they didn’t look any more enthusiastic about sharing this apparently bad news.

“It’s because it’s our fault,” Vin finally whispered. “We’re the cause of all this death.”

“What are you talking about, death? Noah’s the one who dragged me into this—I certainly don’t blame you three, so don’t…”

“It isn’t about you being captured,” Tabbermain piped up. He sniffed, but refused to look up. “This is about the Prime Gate. We fixed it for Noah…and now he’s using it without anyone in Clockworks knowing.”

A way off? A way out of here! Wait, why would they be so bummed abou— “Uh, what exactly is Noah doing with the gate? It can’t be all that bad.”

All three gnomes looked up at him wide-eyed.

“Ok. Alright,” Wendell gulped, “Maybe it is that bad.”

“They’re being sacrificed,” Tabbermain whispered, dropping his eyes back to the floor in shame. “A trade, for our freedom.”

A chill ran down Wendell spine. “Where is the gate being opened to? Humans wouldn’t harm you, that I know of, neither would evolu. The dwarv—I mean, Kutollum? Is that where the gate is opened to?”

They shook their heads.

“Then where? Come on you guys—I can’t help if I don’t know what the snot is going on! Speak up!” His raised tone, sent all three scampering into the straw. “Oh. Sorry.” Taking a deep breath, “Look, I have friends who were taken by Noah’s goons. Sweet people, who helped me. Nursed me back to health when no one else would.” He paused, lowering his tone, “Like you gentlegnomes.” Tabbermain and Vin looked up. “The gnomes are very special to me—so if someone is hurting you, I want to know about it!”

A few quick nods between them and they scooted as far forward as their chains would allow.

“We need to talk as quiet as we can, so Noah won’t discover what we know.”

“What’s that!?” Doddle belted out, “You’re whispering again and you KNOW I’m hard of hearing! Speak up!!”

“SHHHHH!” Vin waved his arms. “We’re whispering on purpose, you dolt, so SHUT IT!”

Doddle crossed his arms and flopped back into his straw bed, huffing.

Tabbermain rolled his eyes and sighed, “Techno-mägo aren’t exactly loved, but we’re not illegal in Clockworks either. We’re a quiet group that find the arcane fascinating…and the fact is, we’re only frowned upon by the religious, and not even the whole of them either. It’s mainly the clergy here, who freak out when things start floating around or change shape. Monks start crying ‘evil this’ and ‘possessed that’. If they don’t control it or can explain it away, the clergy immediately tag it to be of demonic origin. That’s why the few of us who exist, usually stay hidden…or work for the government if we reveal our talents at all.”

“What about me?” Wendell asked, “They have me pegged as some religious icon!”

“Oh, well,” Vin smirked, “that’s different you see. You’re supposed to get your powers from the Gods, while we dabble in the no-no’s of the Universe.”

“Right,” Wendell chuckled,“So how did you end up in here?”

Tabbermain sat back and folded his legs under him, resting his arms across his knees. “The three of us were assigned to do a little work for the Centurions. Simple stuff, nothing big. Deal with a growing vermin problem in the sewers. Place a few enchantments in the tunnels…scare the rats off and the like. It was something we all had experience in. Completely normal stuff—or so we thought.” He gave Vin a grave look, “As soon as we’re deep in the tunnels, the commanding officer of the Centurions has us gassed and brought here.”

Noah has a charming way of inviting guests, Wendell winced, tugging his wrists.

“Noah gave us a choice: work for him, or our children and grand children would suffer the fate of the heretics.”

Wendell frowned, “Suffer the fate of…” but he stopped short. The look on both Tabbermain and Vin’s faces said enough. “Right. Never mind. It’s bad.”

“So we agreed,” Tabbermain breathed, “What choice did we have? He brought us down here and showed us a set of stones. We worked for weeks before realizing what it truly was. The Prime Gate of our people—the one artifact the government had destroyed to prevent entrance to our lands.”

“We knew the symbols,” Vin cut in, “and I have to admit, I was fascinated too. We weren’t being treated badly…”

“Yeah,” Wendell scoffed, “chains and straw are my thing too.”

“We weren’t in here at that point! We had rooms, beds, ate in the hall with the brother monks…,” he sighed, “It wasn’t half bad, really. Hearing rumors that we were called upon divinely as workers to open the way to our salvation sounded pretty wonderful.”

Tabbermain patted him on the shoulder. “But it was all a lie, as you can see.”

“I’m not understanding—what changed, that you’d end up prisoners?”

Now it was Tabbermain who scoffed. He shook his head in disbelief, “We should have seen it coming. Noah had us forge chains that would resist certain magic. We were told he’d been commissioned by the President to create a safe place for captives from other lands to be held for trial. We, of course, wouldn’t know of any agreement like that, so of course, we agreed. No sooner had the work been completed on the gate, and we were placed in here—captives to our own craftsmanship.”

Wendell shook his head, “You still haven’t answered my question. All this, because you’d completed the reconstruction of the Prime Gate? That hardly makes sense. Why not let you go? Send you home, where no one would be the wiser? Doesn’t sound like you were a threat.”

“Ahh,” Tabbermain sighed. “But we were a threat.”

“We stumbled upon Noah’s reason for using the gate,” Vin said with disgust. “He was coddlin’ with the enemy.”

“He was what?”

“Noah was opening the gate and selling our own people to the enemy as slaves!” Vin snapped louder. He looked around and lowered his voice. “That thin-lipped snake has been giving our own kind to the Täuku as a sacrifice offering—to secure Clockworks safety.”

No. Wendell’s head slowly rested against the cold stone, the silver band prickling under his skin. Why would anyone betray their own people to their enemies? Flashes of a hunched robed figure came to mind. Lili cowering on the basement floor of Til-Thorin. Snake-like tentacles slithering out from under the dark hood…magic flame. Flame that never stopped burning… He shuttered. “Why,” he gasped. “Is it money? Power?” He looked up, “Why would Noah…”

“Because of you,” Tabbermain whispered, cutting him off.

The chamber fell silent.

“Me?”

The gnome nodded. “The prophecy everyone talks about—that everyone quotes, is only a part of the whole.” His eyes grew moist, his face conflicted with concern…and regret. “It’s not a pretty ending.”

It never is, Wendell sighed. “And you know this, how?”

“It’s not just a religious prophecy—it was for the mägo of the people as well. Given to us all hundreds of years ago, being passed down through the years. Many of our families remember it—but the general population cared nothing for religious or magical whisperings of future times.”

“And I’m in it?”

Vin nodded, “The Gnolaum is. So if you have the job, kid, yeah—it’s about you.”

So this is why Noah’s on edge? Why I’m chained up in here? “I would never hurt the people of this city!”

“We know that,” said Tabbermain, motioning to Wendell to quiet down, “or that’s what we believe anyway. But Noah is so convinced that you will plunge this city into darkness, he’s made a pact with the followers of Mahan, that when the Dark Lord returns this island will be left alone. He’s buying our freedom with the blood of the innocent.”

“That’s why we’re chained in here,” Vin added, “because we saw one of his detestable offerings and tried to stop him. Tried to close the gate and dismantle it.”

Tabbermain nodded to the other side of the room. “The monks tortured Doddle over there, for days, until we revealed everything we knew…everything we’d seen.”

“Which sealed your fate here,” Wendell concluded.

Vin silently tapped his nose.

This keeps getting more twisted as I go! Wendell couldn’t help but feel a certain degree of disgust. Not that he hated the gnome people, but that this truth, this revelation about Noah, the leaders of Clockworks and the casual disregard for innocent life turned his stomach. He clenched his fists tight and heaved.

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Come on Ithari…we’ve been here long enough! Taking a deep breath, he pressed his knees against the stone altar and pushed off with his hips and thighs. You’ve granted me strength before! Give it to me now!! “Unnhhhh!!” he grunted.

He could feel the power surging through his veins, but the chains did not budge.

“You can’t break those, boy,” Vin warned him.

“I’ve got this!” he grunted back. Thoughts of Simon’s face, terrified in front of a Täuku beast. Would they work them? Beat them? Eat them? The anger beat a powerful rhythm in his chest. THA-THUMP-THUMP! THA-THUMP-THUMP! THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Again he heaved, pulling with all his might until his face turned beet red. “Shuuh!” he gasped, falling forward against the stone. Sweat beaded across his forehead. “Why won’t this move!”

“That’s what we’re trying to tell you, boy—you cannot use magic against these chains! The enchantments detect the magic and use the power against you!! The harder you try, the stronger the chains become.”

“ARRRGH!” Wendell yelled, scraping at the stone with his fingertips. “I’m USELESS!”

“No, you’re not,” Vin said calmly. Tabbermain looked over shocked, but the gnome was focused on the hero. “You have given the people something to live for. Something to fight for. Doesn’t matter if they have the wrong information about you—they have the right intent and the right desire. That makes you different, Wendell Dipmier. That makes you better than a prophecy.” He smiled as Wendell looked over, “And we will help you find a way out of here.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Noah said, disgusted. He pressed the button, stopping the recording, then leaned back in the leather chair. The spring squeaked as he did so. “Do you have all you need then? Enough to convict the human and turn the population against him? I don’t want any chance of the people loving him. I want them to despise and loathe him. ”

“We have more than enough.”

“Excellent. The sooner you can edit the conversation, the sooner we can sacrifice these delusional heretics and get back to a peaceful existence.”

The monk bowed low as Noah arose from the chair, “As you wish, isä”

Noah grinned.

****

Wendell stood in the crisp night breeze. It felt delightful again his hot skin. The moons were out and the faint scent of honey was in the air.

Nothing looked familiar to him, but he’d grown accustomed to that. He was on a new planet, among new people. New experiences and expectation. The trees, the forest, mountains in the distance, and…

Howling.

At first it sounded like a wolf—something he might hear on Earth. Yet something about it was off. The hair on the back of his neck rose up.

“Hello?” he said aloud, but there was no one to answer.

Another howl cut through the night air. This time, much closer.

Thats’s a bit close for comfort. He looked about. There was a small cluster of rocks in the distance.

Move Wendell.

A howl.

Right. Not goos being out in the open.

Get To The Houses, Wendell.

The stars were out in their majesty. The twin moons were high in the night sky and for a moment, Wendell was able to catch the fading flame of Erimuri. He longed to go back there—to have a safe place to just be. To rest for a time without having to worry about expectations or doing something wrong.

To be alone.

Get To The Houses, Wendell.

Another howl.

Wendell blinked again, the sound was near the tree line of the forest. He sprinted towards the rocks. Looking back at the trees, he caught glance of shadows whipping across the landscape!

Get To The Light, Wendell!

The breeze blew across the open fields of grass, up the hillside, over Wendell and into the forest. If it was an animal, it was sure to have his scent. All around him, encasing the valley, were mountains. Huge formations of stone, jutting up from the ground, tops covered in snow.

Have I…been here before?

Another howl…this time from the open ground.

It made Wendell’s spine jump.

“Ok, maybe we should move faster now,” he whispered nervously. “Move your butt, Wendell, before someone finds it!” That’s right, keep moving, he told himself—pushing his legs to move faster and faster.

This is, until he stepped into an animal hole and twisted his ankle.

“Argh!” he cried out. Rolling onto his back, he brought his knee towards his chest.

My ankle. Dang it! I’m on the run and you have to go and wound your ankle?!

His ears perked back as the world around him seemed to hold its breath.

For several long moments, Wendell bit his lip to keep silent. With all his might, he tried hard to blend into the nothing that was silence.

A silence that was soon broken by a faint hissing sound.

Get up Wendell, he urged himself. I don’t CARE if you’re hurt—it’s time to move your butt! Releasing his leg, he flipped over to his belly and then forced himself up onto his knees. Scanning the ridge where he’d just come from, there was nothing to see. Just open space at the end of the sloping hill.

Then he heard it. The hiss.

Great. Snakes, he complained to himself, I hate snakes.

Not more that ten feet away, the cluster of large rocks mocked him and his feeble efforts. Using his arms and knees, Wendell worked his way across the grass like a wounded animal.

Come on, you can do this. Move it!

Another howl…but this one was close enough to cause Wendell to slap a hand over his own mouth for fear of crying out. Rolling the last few feet, he froze at the edge of the rocks.  Stay calm, Wendell. You can do this. Not knowing where to go or what to do, he ducked his head and tried to curl his body between the stones. Wolves…or whatever that was howling, was far scarier than a hissing snake.

Well,…as long as it’s a small snake.

Already the pain in his ankle was subsiding. Wendell could feel the warmth washing over skin and pulsing through bone and muscle. Would it be enough? He needed to find some sort of…

Hey, is that a house? It is! A village!! The sight of the buildings, sitting in a cluster of light and safety almost made him cheer. He bit his lip. The buildings were still a ways off—much too far to make a dash with a wounded ankle.

So what now, genius? You don’t even know where you are…or what that thing is out…

His attention was immediately pulled back to the present.

Hssssss. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr.

It sounded like scraping. Something large, being dragged over gravel.

Hssssss.

Crap. Crap. CRAP! Hands shaking, Wendell held his breath, quivering. Of course it’s a huge snake! Why would it not be? I’m out here, in the middle of nowhere, all by myself, no clue how that happened, so why wouldn’t there be something big, nasty and dangerous to eat MY FACE!??

He clenched his eyes tight.

Hssssss. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr.

Stay calm. Keep…calm.

The sound drew closer and closer. Sliding up to the far side of the boulder Wendell was hiding behind. He wanted to breathe. He needed to breathe—but fear of being found kept his mouth closed.

Skkrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Wendell inched his hand to his mouth and silently sipped air through tight fingers. It…stopped. Eyes wide, they darting back and forth, searching the shadows around him without moving his head. Please go away. Please, please, please… All he could think about was being eaten. Long fangs, piercing his legs, Injecting the deadly poison to paralyze him long enough to swallow him whole. I’m going to die the death of digestion! Wendell regretted all those late nights watching those horror movies mom never wanted in the house. Stupid teenagers screaming and dying because they wouldn’t listen to adults. I don’t want to be an animal pop tart.

Hssssss.

Wendell clamped down on his bottom lip.

It’s moving! He clamped his fingers over his mouth.

A howl in the distance cut through the night.

Hssst.

Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt.

The movements were fast and loud—briefly scraping up against the rock where Wendell trembled and hid.

Please. Please. Please, he pleaded. Don’t eat me. There has to be a nice fat…bear or, he stopped whimpering. Wait a minute. I have been here. I know I have.

He looked around him carefully. the trees, the grass, the stupid hole he fell in. Wendell quickly took in everything he saw. It was just like the dream back at Til-Thorin. Over and over he’d had the same dream. Some of the pieces shifted or changed, but the whole of the experience had remained the same. That was the point. The underlying message. This has to mean something, he convinced himself.

Then he saw it.

The light from the moons cast long shadows along the ground. Dark shapes moved near Wendell’s shoulder.

It was not a snake.

Tattered and worn, perhaps wounded, the creature was dragging itself across the rocks and grass. Wendell couldn’t believe what he was seeing at first.The contours didn’t follow any recognizable from he knew, but one thing looked certain…the beast had been in a fight. Its skin, which hung loosely from its body, looked flayed. Both arms, back and belly were rent like fabric, long fibers hanging from the from.

What IS that thing? It looks like…No! I-it can’t be!? Wendell watched it sway, slithering from his position and dragging its mass over open ground. I’ve seen that before. I know I have.  His mind raced, hunting for clues—some memory that might help link this creature to his past. Wendell peeked over the rocks. Gratefully his position had gone unnoticed and he used that advantage to stare. The pain in his ankle was all but gone now—which meant he could bolt for the homes down the hillside. Or…he could follow the creature, discover what it is and why Wendell had such a familiar feeling about it.

Follow it. On my own. Out in the open.

Riiiiiight.

The creature was still moving away and would soon reach the distant edge of the forest. Once it’s out of site, I’ll make a dash for it. The lights in the distance were a bright sign of hope. He wondered, then, if the people who lived there would know what he’d just seen?

Almost there. He watched the slithering shadow carefully. Keep going, you ugly, that’s it. One. Two. THREE!

Pushing up to his knees, Wendell grabbed the rock for leverage and jumped to his feet.

He sprinted for the homes in the distance.

“See ya suck…”

HSSSST!

Poised silently on the far side of the rock was second creature.

It was not wounded animal.

Wendell cringed, stumbling back from the outcropping. He gasped for breath, unable to inhale as he looked squarely into the hood of his nightmares. The empty hood.

“Jussst a boy. Jussst a CHILD.”

Trembling, his feet shuffled backwards. “No,” he choked, “You’re not real. You’re just,” but he couldn’t finish the statement. Thoughts and feelings collided with such clarity—it all came to him in an instant. YOU! The creature swayed in front of him, reeling up like a viper. The robe of charcoal blackness. Til-Thorin. The dreams. The things seeking after the shard. That’s what you are! But… he hesitated. It wasn’t real. The robe didn’t exist. It had been another creature in a robe that Wendell fought. One with magic, trying to kill Lili.

Lili….

Hollow, vacant holes stared back where a face should be. Shredded sleeves in place of hands of flesh, reaching out…yearning.

“Clossssser child. Let ussss end your pain.”

Like a specter, it moved slowly towards him, crawling, prowling along, pausing only to stand upright. It towered over Wendell even while it hunched, arms outstretched, fingers—or the cloth in their place, curled inward. The words projected into his mind chilled his to the bone.

“You made your choice, boy.”

“NO!” Wendell screamed, his senses returning. He realized his mistake. The robe lunged—but not before Wendell arched wide, sidestepping to avoid its attack. The swipe from fleshless claws raked only air as the hero became a blur of motion.

Wendell never heard the approaching footsteps, nor the panting of the great beast.

With a thunderous growl, a giant wolf lunged in front of the hero and sunk its teeth into the outstretched arm of the tattered robe. Larger than two full grown men, the canine rammed into its prey. Landing on the far side of the rocks, it whipped its head from side to side, jaw clenched tight.

A high-pitched screech ripped the night air, sending chills down Wendell’s spine.

Now there’s two of them!? Monster everywhere! Have to get away. Escape, he panicked. Without looking back, he spurred himself on, gulping air as he ran. There was only one place to go. The village.

His brows dropped forward. I hope someone’s awake! What am I saying? If they’re not awake I’ll wake them!!

The village was close now and he had no idea how much time he had before the robes would be upon him—or the wold would be looking for more food. A brief glance over his shoulder.

Great, he frowned—seeing the first robe already on its way back and focused on him, I’m leading the danger right to their doorsteps. But he was going to need help. Hero or not, Wendell could not do this alone. Not yet.

Have to get everyone attention. “Välo,” he barked, followed by, “Teho!” Light quickly gathered around him, blazing like a beacon and brightening the area. He held the image of his skin, glowing like the noonday sun. I hope this doesn’t hurt.

“Teho!” he shouted, again.

Light flared from the Ithari, bursting through the black fibers of his shirt.

HSSSST!

The robe, right on his heels, fell back from the light, a tattered sleeve covering the gaping opening of the hood. The creature slowed its pace to a crawl.

“HEY!” Wendell bellowed, “WAKE UP! EVERYONE UP! YOUR VILLAGE IS UNDER ATTACK!” It wasn’t the accurate truth, but he didn’t have time to explain. “LET ME IN!” he cried, “LET ME INNNN!!”

He didn’t stop running until he’d reached the nearest hovel. His momentum was so great, Wendell slammed into the front with a loud bang.

“Who is it?” called a trembling voice from inside.

“Wendell,” he shouted back in gulps, banging on the door with a fist. “Monsters. Out here. Trying to eat me. Help!”

But the door remained closed.

“Come ON!” Wendell shouted even louder, “You guys have wolves the size of cars and those….those….oh, let me in! Let me in!” He banged on the door frantically, reached over and rapped on the window, but drapes covered every inch. “Sanctuary! Refuge! Haven! Asylum!” He flipped around and placed his back against the door and whimpered, “Mommy?” Man o man…I never thought my life would end as a doggy treat!

“I heard you,” replied the voice warily, “and it is night! No torch burns that bright—which means either you be the problem…or you have magic with you. If you have magic…then it is you who be the problem!”

“What?” Wendell gasped, “Are you serious? I’m trying to…ok, get inside to save my skin, but hey—I’m also warning you! Have a little compassion—so what if I’m using magic?!” It had never occurred to Wendell that people might not be accepting when it came to magic. He’d naturally assumed that what he’d seen over the past few months was the norm. Then again, he spent most of his time in the presence of magic using individuals. Had he been wrong? Was the use of magic actually frowned upon or taboo? He shook the thought from his mind. There wasn’t time. It didn’t matter right now. The robe was already at the edge of the village.

Waiting.

Wendell turned his head slowly, the swaying motions at the edge of the light catching his attention. Oh boy, he gulped. The thing hissed loudly at him.

The light of Ithari dimmed.

In the gloomy distance, two more shadows converged—the faint hissing echo growing louder with each moment. Not good. NOT GOOD! Wendell flipped back against the door, his confidence quickly waning. He screamed frantically, “Come ON! Blast you—I’m trying to help!!”

“Then go away!” the voice yelled back, irritated. “Best thing you can do is move along—take your problems with you I say!”

Ithari’s light waned…and finally vanished from under the black cloth of Wendell’s t-shirt.

“But…there’s danger,” he pleaded. Please don’t shut me out. Please listen to me. People are going to get hurt. “Why won’t you listen to me?” he whimpered weakly. “The creatures are…the robes…” but it was no use. His forehead rested against the wood surface of the door. Please open up..

“That’s why I’m in here and you’re still out there,” the voice chided, “You made your choice, boy.”

Eyes fixed on the door,Wendell lifted his head. “What…did you say?”

“I said,” repeated the voice cooly, “You made your choice, boy!”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

Wendell’s feet stumbled back from the door, hands clenching into fists. The voice…the words…they sounded  familiar.

Too familiar.

The wood of the door splintered, ripping from the hinges. Fragments flew outward, forcing Wendell to raise an arm and protect his eyes. A heavy rancid scent of decaying meat and molding rot rolled out from the doorway—assaulting his senses. It made the world spin and his eyes water. Slapping a hand over his mouth, Wendell reeled back, gagging.

In the shadows of the doorway, rising up to dwarf the height of the framework, lurked a robe. Black as midnight, tattered and frayed…it lunged.

Ithari flared like the noonday sun.

He blinked…and all went dark.

Wendell blinked again—this time clenching his lids tight. He could feel the cold metal wrapped tightly around his wrists—the metal band around his forehead. “It was just a dream,” he whispered to himself. A horrible, confusing dream. He looked around the dim room. The candles had all but gone out now, leaving a single torch near the door as the only source of light.

Tabbermain, Vin and Doddle all snored peacefully in their straw piles. The small bodies, curled up like children made Wendell smile. They have to be three times my age—yet they look so cute when they…

His head perked up. Shouting, out in the hallway. First one voice, then another.

Then all went silent.

Wendell’s ears twitched. A faint sound caught his notice.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The latch to the cell door jiggled. A pause, then a moment later, the slab of wood slowly  pushed open.

At first Wendell wasn’t sure what it was—small and black, but as the person entered the room, he recognized the muzzle of a rifle. A pale gnome, with thick glasses and dark braided hair stepped through. The braid was so long, it wrapped at least once around the gnomes neck. A tiny backpack hung from shoulders, a pistol strapped to each hip. In his hand was an oblong device, a tiny red light flashing in rhythm of the beep, beep, beep.

Seeing the hero chained to the altar and the other prisoners similarly confined, the stranger pushed the door closed behind him.

“Do you realize how hard it is to sneak into this temple, past three dozen armed guards and find you?” he asked in a high-pitched, whining voice. It sounded like something from a child’s cartoon.

“I don’t.”

The gnome grinned and then laughed, ending with a sharp snort. “East as eating pie. Just need a tracker,” he held up the palm device, “and shoot the guards as you go.”

“You killed everyone on the way in?” Wendell gasped.

Feigning shock, “I am NOT a barbarian. I’m a professional. We don’t use the word kill,” adding a drawl, “We say retire. It sounds more civilized when you knock someone off.” Smirking, “No one was retired, gnome-scout’s honor…well, unless they deserved it.”

This is all I needed, a new level of crazy. “Who are you?”

“You don’t recognize me?” the gnome asked, astounded. Cradling the rifle in his arms, he turned to one side, displaying his profile—then to the other. “Recognize me now?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

The gnome grumbled, “Then I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

Wendell’s brows crinkled, “I thought you didn’t use the word, kill?”

“Yeah, well, I do when it’s going to hurt…and with what you’ve put me through—I’m going to kill you. Slowwwly.”

“What?” Wendell squeaked, “Why? I haven’t done anything to you—we don’t even know each other!” Tabbermain stirred behind him. If this assassin is going to kill me, better that the gnomes not wake up. No witnesses. If no one knows he’s here, he can do his thing and just let them sleep and move on.

Thin brows dropped down the high forehead to hover over his eyes, “Oh, but you have done things to me.” He stepped forward and lifted a thick soled boot, resting it on the side of the altar. “Horrible things.” It was then that Wendell noticed the tape and bandages on the gnomes right hand. “You’re bad luck!”

It’s not like Wendell could get up and leave. He pulled at his chains, but the stranger put a hand over the links to quite them. Holding a finger to his lips, the gnome slid the backpack off and placed it next to Noah’s box of artifacts. He set the rifle down on top of it.

“You see, Mr. Dipmier, I was hired to put a bullet through your head.” Taking his glasses from his face, a white cloth appeared in his hand. “Well, not a bullet, per se—but it was my job to assist you in expiring within a public place. I tracked you, followed you and in every situation, I had the perfect setup. The wind, the lighting, plenty of people to see the gore…and proof for me to get paid. I’ve done this for years, you see—so when things go wrong once, it’s annoying. But when it goes wrong each and every time? Well, that means something else is at work here. Something fighting against me.” Sliding the cleaned glasses back onto his face, he leaned close to Wendell’s face, “Something bad.”

Replacing the white cloth inside his vest, he stood up and stretched. “The first shot was when you had your interview at WHRN.” He held up a make believe gun, aiming through invisible sites, “It was perfect. Perched up high, low wind, hidden behind a cement ridge…and then at the precise moment, a bird lands on my barrel. A bird!” He clamped his lips tight. “An actual bird. The bullet ricocheted off gutter and hit me in the arm.” He rolled up his sleeve to display the bandage. “You were out of view before I could reload!”

He started to pace, his upper lip twitching, accompanied by his nose.

“My second try wasn’t optimal, so I decided not to take any chances. I used a tracker bullet.” Stepping closer, he wedged his thumb into the crook of Wendell’s shoulder. “Feel that tiny lump?”

Wendell grunted and nodded. There was a light pinch over his rotator cuff.

“The bullet breaks apart on impact—small grains of rice, which act as transmitters. So I can pick you up with,” he lifted the oblong, black device, “this. But just as I pulled the trigger, a vehicle pulled up in the street below your balcony speech, reflecting the sun precisely in my eyes. I flinched, you got hit in the shoulder and that poor cop git it full in the chest.” He sighed. “Didn’t even get paid for that one.”

“It just sounds like bad circumstances,” Wendell replied.

“No!” he sneered, raising an index finger, “I control my circumstances, through preparation, timing, planning…but not with you. Even when I was fed up and decided to blow you and your cohorts up, my grenade launcher misfires, blowing up the water tower behind me.” Sniffing, “I…almost…drowned. ME!” He looked at Wendell pleadingly, “Do you realize how horrible life would be, without…me?”

Wendell smiled weakly, hoping it looked like compassion. Oh joy. Isn’t there anywhere in this city where the people are normal?

“Then,” he snapped, raising a fist, “I figured, forget the public. He just needs to die and I’ll take photos to get paid. No brainer. So I track you below the city, and set explosives in the pipes. But do they go off when they’re supposed to? NO THEY DO NOT!” he yelled aloud, “IT BLOWS UP WHEN I CHECK IT…,” his shoulder bounced in a sob, “including my pinky finger!” Raising the bandaged hand, Wendell counted four digits.

“So here I am, dedicated as I am, here to finish the contract I started. Slip in, slip out, no one will know I was even here.” He grinned triumphantly.

“Buddy Keisler!” cried Doddle, “Oh my goodness, it that really him?! Guys, wake up—you’ll never believe who’s here!”

No, no, no…Doddle, you silly old…

“You know me?” the assassin asked cautiously. His hands drifted to his sidearms.

“Are you kidding?” Doddle beamed, “I’m your biggest fan! The Acid Rain series is the greatest spy novel series ever written! It’s magic, poetry, and sheer brilliance for the discerning reader!!” The smile exploded into deep, hysterical laughter. “You…are…the…coolest…author…EVER!”

Wendell winced as the assassin dashed past him to Doddle’s side.

“You…really think so?”

Huh?

Doddle reached up and shook the assassin’s hand briskly, “Please tell me Acid Drip will be released soon, because I can’t wait!”

Buddy beamed with glee. “Next week, actually.” He dropped his tone with a wink, “And I’ve included three bonus chapters on his background as a tracker.”

Doddle clapped his palms together, interlacing his fingers. “Ooooooh!”

Wendell’s jaw dropped as Buddy Keisler squatted down next to the old gnome and started shooting the breeze about character development, worldbuilding and the try/fail cycles of writing. He sighed. No, over here. Just shoot me. Nothing makes sense to me around here anymore.

“I must be dreaming,” Tabbermain whispered, “is that….,” he rubbed his eyes, “NO!”

“It IS!” cheered Doddle.

“Buddy Keisler!” hooped Vin, “In our dungeon cell? How cool is that!?”

“Yeah,” Doddle grinned, patting the famous author on the back, “He came here to kill Wendell.”

“What?” stammered Tabbermain, “Kill, the Gnolaum?”

Buddy shrugged, “Guys gotta pay rent.”

The gnome looked crushed. “You’d kill a fan?” He glanced over at Vin, giving him a sharp elbow in the ribs. “Isn’t that a shame, Vin?”

“What? Oh. Oh! Yes—complete shame! What, other readers might get the wrong impression that you don’t appreciate our praise.”

Buddy looked between them, confused. “Fan? Him? But he’s human!”

“Ah,” Tabbermain challenged, “but he lived here for quite a while undercover as a gnome.”

“You don’t say!”

Tabbermain glared at Wendell.

“Absolutely!” he jumped in. “I wanted a chance to experience the culture…and what better way than to partake of brilliant literature?”

The gnomes grinned in agreement.

“But you said you didn’t recognize me.”

Wendell gulped, “Ah. Well…”

“Oh you can’t blame him for that,” chimed Doddle, “you didn’t start putting your picture on the cover until book seven anyway!”

Buddy pondered and nodded to himself, “True. It was quite a risk, being identified. I had a lot of contracts to fulfill back then.” He studied Wendell, “You…really like my books?”

Grinning, “Are you kidding me? Huge fan.” If he kills me, I’m going to hell.

The assassin smirked. “Wow. The Gnolaum, a fan.” But his face instantly contorted, “Wait a second,” he glared at each of the captives in turn, “I was paid to kill a fan? Those dogs, want me to knock off my readers!?? DEVILS!”

“You don’t have to kill any of us, you know,” Tabbermain added.

Jumping to his feet, Buddy strutted to the altar and snatched up his rifle. Clicking off the safety, he gave a devilish grin, “Oh I know—and I don’t plan to. Though someone is going to meet their maker soon enough.” He took aim at Wendell’s chains.

“That won’t,” Vin started to say, “it’s enchanted and completely…”

The weapon fired, the echo near deafening. Metal shattered, plinking off the stone walls. Wendell, trying to hide his face, abruptly slumped back onto his rear, fire coursing through his arms and back.

“…vulnerable to physical damage.”

“Huh,” grunted Tabbermain, “didn’t think to protect it from guns.”

“Nor me,” sighed Vin. “Good thing,” he held up his own chain still binding his ankle. “Next?”

Buddy grinned a sly grin, “Absolutely.”

Three shots later, they were all free. Wendell groaned loudly as he tried to stand up. UNGH! So stiff! The Ithari was already working, pulling the pain and pumping energy into his limbs—his back popped and bones creaked as he rose to his full height. Buddy took a step back, as did the other gnomes. His joints and muscles realigned as he stretched. Ooooooo. That feels SO GOOD! There was only one more problem. He held the shackles up—still hanging from his wrists.

“What about these?” he said, wiggling the stray links still attached.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Doddle laughed, and snapped his fingers.

The shackles fell from Wendell’s wrists. He looked down at the gnome. “How..?”

He winked behind his thick glasses, “Without the magic, they’re just metal…and metal we can do, right boys?”

Vin cracked his knuckles, “You are SO right, Doddle. And I’m achin’ to show these religious goons just how much.”

Tabbermain grabbed his friend by the shoulder, “We’re not here to fight—we’re here to get out.” He gave a short bow, “Thanks to our most excellent author-friend.” Buddy beamed.

“I’m not leaving yet,” Wendell said soberly. “Not without my friends.” He patted his jeans, then slipped his fingers into his pockets. Blast! They took the letter. His heart sank, the hope of having some definite direction as to what to do now gone. Kneeling down, he leaned his head toward Tabbermain. “Would you help me take this off?” he pointed to the circlet around his brow.

“Oh, yes!” the gnome replied, inspecting the artifact attached to the hero’s head.

“But they’re probably gone by now,” said Vin, “not much use in trying to save what isn’t here, boy.”

“We don’t have time for this gentlegnomes…and gentlegnola….,” Buddy grunted, “Whatever. We need to leave…now.”

The four gnomes looked up at Wendell expectantly.

Gripping the corner of the altar to steady himself, he grit his teeth and groaned. Removing the silver band was like being clawed across the scalp with razor blades. “Owww!” he fliched as Tabbermain pulled the artifact free.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. He rubbed his forehead, blood trickling down this sideburns, “I owe you…and I thank you for that help—but I can’t leave my friends.” He looked at the assassin bluntly and unafraid. “I won’t leave them. Any more than I would leave any one of you, now that I’ve met you. Some of these gnomes are just children, without parents to care for them. They can’t be left behind. So I would ask you, if you know the way, to show me where Noah keeps the prisoners. Though I’m not asking you to come with me.”

“I’ll go,” Tabbermain said immediately. “I know where they’re being kept—but I also think that Noah ought not to have a Prime Gate under his control. I helped put it in his hands, so this is partially my responsibility.”

“Our responsibility,” Vin added. “I’ll go as well. I helped build the Gate, I’ll help take it down.”

“We’ll you’re not leaving me behind!” stammered Doddle, “But I’m not taking any blame. You built the gate before I got here, you it’s your fault, not mine.”

They all laughed.

Wendell looked to the assassin. “Thank you Buddy,” and he held out a hand.

Buddy stared at the large open hand and scoffed. “If anyone’s killing you, it’ll be me. I won’t give anyone else that satisfaction while we’re within these walls—but this was NOT supposed to be a rescue mission!” He rolled his shoulders back, feigning annoyance, “Lost quite a chunk on this job…and someone’s going to have to pay.”

Wendell considered the words, keeping his hand outstretched. “Agreed. I’ll think of something. You have my word on it.”

Reluctantly, they shook hands.

“And,” Wendell added quickly, “I’m not leaving these.” Grabbing the circlet, he popped open the ornate wooden box, tossed it in and snapped it shut. He tugged on the ropes weaving in and out of the wood and started tying them into knots.

Without warning, the door to the cell burst open—and two overly muscular monks barged into the room. Wielding clubs, one cried aloud as he charged, “Escapees!”

Spinning on his heels, Buddy Keisler popped the rifle up to his hip, trained on its new target. “They burst into the chamber, desperate to apprehend the escaping prisoners. But Buddy was too quick for them, his reflexes honed by years of intense field work and refusing to die, despite the odds.”

“No killing!” Tabbermain shouted out, but it was too late. The gun fired twice.

Both monks spun around, smashing their heads against the wall. They collapsed to the floor. Trails of red seeped out from under their robes. A soft moan escaped their lips and one rolled onto his back.

“Well I’ll be,” Vin gasped, “he shot them both in the leg.”

Without pausing, Buddy stepped forward. “Showing uncommon mercy, mainly to improve his reputation, Buddy knocked the guards out—so that his prowess would be whispered among the corrupt religious sect.” Grasping the end of his rifle, the assassin used it like a bat and struck both monks across the face.

“Why does he talk to himself like that?” Tabbermain whispered.

“I think,” Doddle replied quietly, “that he’s writing as he works.”

“Then let him do his thing,” Wendell added, pulling the wooden box under his arm, “And let’s get out of here before someone else shows up!”