When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell.
Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may.
After all...I can't fix stupid.
Previously: Dax makes the cut of Trench Wars round one, but the interview afterwards provides unwanted ammunition to the news media.
It doesn’t matter what people say about you..it will all work out for your good, if you let it. Try a bowl of ice cream and a fun show to find a new perspective.
"They aren't going to miss us at all?" I asked.
I know my ignorance was annoying him, but the very concept that this entire building, or space, or….whatEVER The Great Library was…could step OUT of time, just…didn't compute.
I was still stuck on how girls think.
Chuck, his chair tilting back against a bookshelf, shook his head. "Doubt it. If we just let them know I need to have a short chat with you, we just step in here. They all think we've had a conversation for a few minutes, but you get some training AND get the time to rest up before they're any wiser."
"Why didn't we come here when I first arrived?" I said. "Couldn't I have been trained by now and become the hero I'm expected to be?"
"It doesn't work that way," Chuck said sourly.
"What doesn't?"
"Any of it."
"You're not making sense, Chuck."
With a click of the chair rocking forward, all four legs touched back to the ground. "Everything has a cost, Wendell. Everything. Those who say differently are selling something. This place, as grand as it is, has a cost. We won't always have the option to come in here. For now, we do, so we'll use it. As for your training and becoming the hero you should be, well…that comes with experience. There's no shortcut."
It made sense, though I had to admit that I'd been hoping for some kind of cheat to give me a boost. Even a small win. It was my turn in the Trench War games. Everyone was counting on me, and I was told more than half a billion sets of eyes will watch my every move once I climbed into that 20' robot. As much as Chuck, Dax, and Alhannah tried to shield me from the pressures and danger, I could feel it.
Many times, I could see it, too.
The Church, which from what Chuck told me had built their influential empire around the prophecies of the hero, wanted me stopped. Rumors were popping up, whispers seeping in through the TNT crew, newspaper articles, and even prime time news stations on the TV spouted the Church's anger.
Even Shamas looked nervous lately.
The good part of all this was seeing Lili taking it all in.
She didn't seem so bothered anymore with her surroundings, or the technology. She and Alhannah had regular conversations around the table and joked with Morty and Deloris. Lili was laughing, smiling more, and she wasn't avoiding me.
Yeah, that part was nice.
Chuck took another sip of his tea and then wiggled his finger at the Librarian. "Earth to Wendell! HelLO!! You're wasting her time, son. Pay attention."
"Sorry."
Turns out The Great Library contained far more than books. This secret vault of knowledge was just as the Librarian stated…a 'place of learning'. That wasn't limited to text. My surroundings changed to fit the conditions of what I was learning.
When I'd complained about the sea of books around us, a burst of dragon flame shot from the wooden mouth of Chuck's staff.
When the flames faded, nothing was damaged.
The Librarian grunted, but Chuck had grinned like a fox. "We're not in charge here, son…she is. These books are perfectly safe."
The center of the Library, where the study table normally squatted, was no longer visible. The circular tiles in the floor had, with a wave of Eva's hand, flipped outward, making the center section bigger. She also dropped the floor down a few feet, changing the area into a practice arena.
She hovered a few feet above me, her dress flowing like water about her. "Now that you and Morphiophelius have started with the basics of magic, it might be wise to train you in the use of a unique tool you possess."
"Tool?" I said.
She motioned to me. "The clothes you wear."
I shifted uncomfortably in place. "Uhhh, clothes aren't a tool. Unless you want me to cause financial harm to others through therapy sessions from being naked, I'm confused."
Chuck snorted loudly.
The Librarian smiled at me…then threw a spear.
At my face.
One moment her hand was empty, the next a silver spear, anger than I am tall, was hurled directly at me.
"EEEEAAAHHHH!" I shrieked, throwing my arms up to shield my head. The moment I did, I felt a push against my arm and heard a 'ka-THANG'…
I peeked up and over my arm to see the Librarian still floating in place, that smile still on her face. She once more made the motion towards me.
My arms were covered in some form of plate armor!
"Your mägoweave is the rarest kind, Wendell. It has kept you safe from the elements, yes, but it was crafted with love to do so much more for you."
How did she know…? I looked at Chuck. He shook his head.
"Eva is connected to all the intelligences within her stewardship, son. I didn't tell her about any of our conversations. Your clothes did."
I blinked. "I'm sorry, what? My clothes…are talking now? It's not weird enough that I can't hide my emotions to the world. Now they're giving details about my adventures?" Even when I looked down, the smiley face looked back with a silent grunt. I nodded. "Right?"
"All things, young Wendell, are made of intelligences," said the Librarian. "The stronger the unity, the greater their capacity. Every rock, every tree, even the water of the lakes that surround this island have a perfect memory. Why would your mägoweave be any different?"
That got a snort of my own. "Oh, I'm not arguing fairness here. I'm still struggling with the concept of everything being intelligent. I know people less intelligent than this shirt, but hey…"
Three more spears flew at my face.
"EEEEAAAHH!!" I shrieked again.
'Ka-THANG!'
'Ka-THANG!'
'Ka-THANG!'
For some…WONderful reason, I was now holding a shield…?
"What the heck is…"
"My point, Wendell, is that your mägoweave has distinct abilities of its own. Abilities that can aid you in your mission as the new hero. Those garments were woven over years, enchantments embedded in each and every thread for the express purpose of keeping its owner safe from the perils of this world." She descended to stand in front of me, her feet touching the stone floor. Placing a soft hand against my chest, the shield melded back into the sleeve of the garment. The long sleeve then rolled back up my arm to form the black smiley t-shirt.
For a moment, it looked like stardust was falling from her misty eyes.
Were those…tears?
"You know this because the intelligences told you?" I asked, shifting uncomfortably in place.
The Librarian shook her head.
"I know this about these garments…because I made them."
“Really?” said Chuck..
“Really,” Dax, with a sigh and a smile.
Then, like a jack-in-the-box on espresso, the wizard tackled Dax with a bear hug that looked like it could crush ribs.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Dax practically peeled himself from Chuck’s grip. “Alright! That’s enough,” he said, straightening his shirt and holding the old gnome back with both hands.
Chuck giggled like a toddler hopped up on sugar.
“You’re positive that this’ll work?” Dax asked, half skeptical, half hopeful. "The charm will hold?"
Chuck shook his head. “Not in the least.”
Lili closed her book slowly. “You sure you want to risk it? What if you come back and you’re no longer a gnome? I don’t think they’re going to allow a… green person into the games.”
Dax shrugged. “Maybe not, but the rules say all team members have to engage in the initial rounds. I already did that—so even if I have to drop out, it won’t affect Wendell competing.”
I glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at me. Just at Chuck—like something bigger had just settled on his shoulders. “Besides,” he added, “we’re doing this for you two, anyway. We need Höbin’s help to find that seal. That’s what we’re here for, right? So this takes priority.”
And of course, that’s all Chuck needed. The wizard launched himself into another suffocating hug.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!!”
Dax’s face was practically the color of split pea soup. “Can’t…breathe…”
The whole warehouse was on lockdown.
Shamas’ orders.
Fans had figured out where we were staying after Dax’s press appearance. They started swarming the building—asking for autographs, snooping through windows, and even trying to swipe parts from the workshop like they were looters in a candy store.
Luckily, Morty wasn’t new to this game.
He’d rigged the whole building with one of his personalized security systems.
“It won’t even send them to the hospital,” Morty explained proudly. “Just gives them… painful encouragement not to touch.” He shot Shamas an innocent glance. “That’s all. I promise.”
Shamas didn’t look impressed. “Alright,” he said, “Consider this a weekend off, folks.”
Even the TNT crew had been asked to stay in the warehouse until the media frenzy passed. Tumbler, of course, was thrilled.
“Is this really necessary?” he grumbled, puffing smoke rings from his cigar. It swirled up and around his large, knobby nose. “I can’t be here too long, boy… no one’s home to feed me plants!”
“Yes, old timer, it’s necessary,” Shamas replied, dead serious. “If you wander off alone, you could get hurt. The public is unpredictable.”
“Bah,” the old welder spat. He stubbed out his cigar in the middle of his cheese sandwich and glared at Shamas. “Who’s gonna bother an old, retired welder that lives on the docks? No one, I tell ya!” He jabbed a grease-smeared finger at Nat. “I’m only doin’ this gig for extra credits AND to stick it to the younger crowd!” He folded his arms in a huff. "Ungrateful little turds."
Shamas placed a firm, sympathetic hand on the welder’s shoulder. “I apologize, Tumbler. I do. But that press meeting went south. Our words are being twisted through the media and there’s a growing divide between the normals and the factory workers. Right now, you’re all at risk.”
He looked around the kitchen. “My job is to keep you safe. I can’t do that if you’re all scattered around Clockworks. Until I get a better read on this thing, I want you under one roof.” He turned to Alhannah. “The hangar is locked down. Don’t open it for anyone and don’t power up the S.L.A.G.s until I get back.”
Then he turned his laser-like focus on Freak. “That means no working either. Stay in the main quarters. Got it? No peeking gnomes, no windows, and no candid photos. Just plan. That’s your job now.”
Alhannah nodded. “Where are Dax, Lili, and Chuck?”
Deloris opened the freezer and pulled out a full gallon of cookie crumble ice cream. “They’re working on their research project.” She gave Alhannah a knowing look. “Don’t worry. I’ll pass along the instructions. Sounded like they weren’t planning to leave the library, anyway.”
“Thanks.” Shamas gave a single nod. “Alright then, I’m off. Time to find out just how bad this is going to get.”
Alhannah and I walked him to the door while everyone else started arguing over who got the first bowl. She looked tense. Her shoulders stiff, jaw tight. Shamas noticed too.
“You ok, Red?” he asked.
She looked at me and gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. It was that focused, calculating expression of hers.
“Do you think this is as bad as you’re leading on?” I asked.
Shamas paused, hand on the doorknob.
“You haven’t shared any intel with us,” Alhannah cut in, “and I think you forget I have the same job you do in the big wide world. Only difference is, I’m allowed to put my enemies six feet under.”
He hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip. He gave me a nervous look. “I’m… not sure what’s going on yet,” he admitted. “But the moment big corporations start to stir, you know they’ll stack the odds however they can. Now with factions throwing in… it’s hard to say.”
He glanced down the hallway as shadowy shapes danced along the wall from the kitchen windows. “Once the government gets involved… the next stop’s usually the crapper. And that’s if we’re lucky.”
He yanked open the door…and nearly tripped over a crate on the front step.
“What the…?”
It was about two feet squared, with a cream-colored envelope tucked under a red bow, neatly stapled to the corner of the wood.
Alhannah leaned forward and snatched the card before he could say a word.
“Careful,” Shamas warned, scanning the street. It was totally dead. Not a soul in sight. “Could be a trap.”
She chuckled. “I hardly think we’ve reached bomb-worthy fame just yet, RH.”
The envelope was addressed to Dax. She didn’t hesitate—ripped it open and pulled the paper free. Her laugh startled both of us.
“What does it say? Who’s it from?” Shamas asked, frowning.
She held it up. “To Mr. Dax—Keep Up The Good Work. Signed, Bellows.”
He blinked. “I don’t get it. What’s in the crate?”
Alhannah slung the wooden box up onto her shoulder with ease.
“Cigars.”
Every single station was running the same stories…calling us racists, bigots…saying we didn’t belong in the Trench Wars competition.
And it didn’t stop.
The phone rang that morning and just never quit. People screamed obscenities through the receiver at whoever had the guts to answer. Eventually, Deloris just yanked the thing out of the wall with a huff and muttered something about “uncivilized morons.”
Then our Steel and Stone website tanked—choked by millions of incoming messages until the whole system just gave up. Reporters trying to “confirm” the garbage being circulated. Hecklers. Religious zealots. Leaders from the church districts spewing fire and brimstone like we were the next apocalypse.
It was brutal.
And it wasn’t long before I started wondering if joining the games had been a mistake. The entire warehouse felt like a funeral parlor—quiet, heavy. Eventually, we all ended up in the kitchen, just sort of…hovering.
Not strategizing.
Not planning.
Just trying to figure out how to survive this public storm without losing our minds.
“If we were tryin’ to reclaim our reputations, we’re off to a crap of a start,” grumbled Tumbler, arms crossed and face carved with irritation. “And that ain’t the worst of it, neither.”
Telly stretched his legs under the table and yawned. “What are you gripin’ about now?”
Tumbler jerked a thumb at me. “The pressure’s on him now! All this lying and shifty work from the media ain’t gonna bode well for any of us if he don’t win. I’ll tell you that right now!”
I hadn’t moved in hours. Just sat in the middle of the couch like a lump, eyes locked on the TV screen, fingers clenched around the remote. Station after station. Clip after clip. Each one was worse than the last. They twisted our words—Dax, Alhannah, even me. Replayed fragments out of context to paint us like some rebellious hate group.
“…we intended to…”
“…out to make money, to get famous…Right ‘Hannah?”
“Exactly right.”
“…we aim ta remind Clockworks…”
“…this city has lost…”
“…the workers…”
“…the factories…”
“…its government,…”
“…its religion…”
On and on. Lie after lie. Eventually, people got sick of hearing it. One by one, they drifted off to their rooms.
I didn’t blame them.
In the end, it was just Morty, Deloris, and I left on the couch.
“Not a single station,” I muttered under my breath.
“What’s that, dear?” Deloris asked as she started collecting empty bowls from the end tables. She moved slowly, humming something soft and comforting.
“Not a single station told the truth,” I said again, louder this time. “We spoke out for the people—and not one station reported what we actually said.” I paused, then corrected myself, “Well… not accurately. Don’t they realize that if the people were empowered, things could actually change?”
“But that’s just it,” Morty said as he got up to help Deloris. “Maybe they don’t want things to change. Did you think of that?”
No. No, I hadn’t. Not really. “Why wouldn’t you want to change when things are so bad?”
I kept thinking about what Motherboard had said. All those stories about government factions…how they lulled the people into a false sense of comfort, so they could tighten control without resistance.
It made sense. I believed it.
Was I wrong?
No. No, I could see the surrounding oppression. The government here wasn’t the good guy. But then again… was it ever? Even back home, on Earth, people didn’t really care. Sure, they’d grumble when the government did something they didn’t like, but beyond that? They did nothing. Just lived their lives, heads down, plugged into convenience. As long as the trains ran on time and the lights stayed on, no one noticed how their freedoms were eroding…bit by bit.
I remembered my dad sitting across from me at the kitchen table, talking politics, trying to explain things I didn’t understand back then. It was all noise. But now?
Now, so much of it made sense.
Too much.
The people in charge always had an alternate agenda. Gnomes were no different.
Deloris walked over and leaned down, offering a motherly smile. “I think we could do with a lot more young men with your view of life,” she whispered. “Just my opinion, of course. But what Morty’s trying to say is this—the ones in charge here in Clockworks? The ones holding the funding, the influence, the resources… they’re probably the last people who want to see anything change.”
Just like Earth. Same rotten hunger for power and control.
I sighed… and without thinking, clicked the remote.
The screen flared to life. It landed on a station I hadn’t seen all night. A young gnome in a ruffled blue shirt sat at a desk with a crooked banner behind him: KNOW THE NEWS.
“…and I was appalled at what my colleagues in the industry have been relaying. Ladies and gentlegnomes, it… is… a… lie. This reporter was there, and our crew filmed the entire event. We’d like to play it now, for you, unedited—straight from the Steel and Stone press room.”
The image shifted—and there I was, on the screen. A full wide shot from the back corner of the room. The angle was perfect. The whole thing played out, uncut, our words intact. Better still, the cameraman had zoomed in on each reporter who asked a question, capturing their face, voice, and station logo.
They’d been caught.
Red-handed. Every one of them.
Morty and Deloris set the dishes down and came back to the couch to watch.
“Well, I’ll be,” Morty muttered. “They all just got nailed… by the underdog station!” He laughed, rubbing his chin. “Oh, there’s a lotta people who are gonna have to eat crow tomorrow.”
Deloris just grinned. “It always works out,” she said, smirking. “There are still good hearts out there, Wendell, even in the media. Given time, someone will always speak up.”
The kitchen door creaked open.
“We got any ice?” Dax groaned, shuffling in. His hand covered half his face, the other was gripping his backside. He was beet red.
“You’re back!” I said, grinning. “And you’re still a gnome…”
But I trailed off as he limped toward the fridge, moving like someone who’d fallen down several flights of stairs—twice.
Dax scowled, “Yeah, lucky me.”
He let go of his face just long enough to rip open the freezer. That’s when I saw it—a massive black-and-purple bruise circling his eye and cheek. His whole face was swollen. He rifled through the contents, muttering, and finally pulled out a frozen bag of veggies. Pressing it to his eye, he sighed in relief.
Deloris tried to hold it in, but she giggled. “What happened to you?” she asked, biting her lip. “You look like you tried to stop a cargo transport…with your face.”
“Hah, hah,” he grumbled, carefully lowering himself into a chair with the grace of a collapsing building. “I was attacked by a psycho cyborg gnome, that’s what.”
I exchanged a look with Morty. “So… Höbin’s here?”
“Yup.”
“And he… hit you?”
Dax’s voice dropped to a deadpan mutter. “And TASERED me.”
Morty snorted and tried not to laugh. “And he did this…why?”
Dax gave us the most incredulous look he could muster, with a face full of vegetables. “Because I didn’t look my amazing, masculine self, of course!”
He stared at us like we were the crazy ones.
But I couldn’t help it.
When I smirked, Dax sighed and waved a hand. “Alright, alright. Fine. I was trying to stay out of sight. Didn’t want to explain myself to the Sentry or anyone else, so I ported directly into Höbin’s room at the Roadkill Tavern.”
He paused…then chuckled. “He thought I was laying in ambush. In his room. About to mug him.”
I burst out laughing. “So he…”
“Popped his fingers and shot me!”
Deloris walked over to examine the bruise. “And this? When did this happen?”
Dax moaned, adjusting the ice. “After I didn’t lose consciousness from the electricity… he cold-cocked me.”
The library still smelled like incense—heavy, cloying—but it was quickly losing ground to the number of espresso runs Dax and I had made. I stood at the machine, holding my tiny cup to the spout as it sputtered and hissed, spitting out a shot of concentrated, blessed alertness.
With a quiet sigh, I walked the cup over and handed it to Höbin.
He looked up at me with a sheepish expression, taking the espresso. “Well, how was I supposed to know it was him?” he grumbled. “Not like he had green skin, or four digits on his hands and feet…” He shot a glare at Dax. “Or even introduced himself! That would’ve been nice.”
“Would you have believed me?” Dax countered, crossing his arms.
The gnome paused, one brow rising high as he stared at the ceiling. “…Uhhhhh, nope.”
“Then what was the point?”
“The point, Dax,” Höbin huffed, “is that you shouldn’t have ported into my private quarters in the first place.” He waggled his eyebrows. “P.R.I.V.A.T.E.”
“Got it,” Dax muttered, rolling his eyes. “GOT it.”
Chuck, watching their snarky back-and-forth with mild amusement, chimed in. “Did Dax explain to you why he was sent to pick you up?”
Höbin shook his head. “Other than something about you being in trouble? No. I was too busy electrocuting his behind.”
Lili giggled from across the room.
Chuck sipped his coffee, then set it down gently. “Well, I am in trouble. And I desperately need your help, my friend.”
“Anything, Chuck. You know that.”
“It’s about the Demoni Vankil.”
Espresso sprayed from Höbin’s mouth like a shaken soda. The gnome choked, coughing, and started smacking his chest. Unfortunately, the wizard ended up wearing the hot spray.
“Are you… nuts?” Höbin wheezed. “Why would you…?”
He stopped, looking at each of us—then locked his wide, panicked eyes on me.
“If you want my historical advice,” he said, voice trembling, “leave those things alone. If they stay hidden, the Dark One can’t come back. Simple as…what is that?”
I frowned, "What?"
Höbin pointed at me. "Your shirt. Why is it...looking at me like that?"
The smiley face on my shirt was unusually expressive…its features sagging, lips trembling.
“There’s only one seal left,” I told him quietly.
No one said a word.
We all watched Höbin.
His mustache twitched. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, then stood up and started pacing the room.
“This… this can’t be right,” he muttered to himself. “If two of the seals were…” He looked at Chuck.
Chuck nodded.
Höbin flinched and started pacing faster. “Then Mahan already has influence. Doesn’t matter which seals. If he’s still trapped in Unrest, he could still reach out across the distance. It would be weaker… but not impossible. And if he’s not trapped, only stranded?”
He looked at me again. “Then he can either speak magic… or use motion.”
I blinked. “What does that mean? Motion?”
He swallowed hard. “It means we’re screwed.”
“That’s why the darkness has been growing over time,” Chuck said softly. As Höbin did another loop around the chairs, Chuck reached out and caught his arm. “That’s why I need your help, Höbin. The third seal is here, in Clockworks.”
For a moment, it didn’t seem to register. Höbin kept nodding to himself, pacing, mumbling… until it suddenly clicked.
His head snapped up.
“Here?” he choked. “As in right here—IN the City? Clockworks City? With over a billion gnomes?!”
“That’s what I said,” Morty grunted from across the room, arms crossed. He looked way too satisfied that someone finally agreed with him.
Höbin slowly grinned. “Oh. Well. That’s good then, isn’t it?”
“Good?” Morty barked.
“It’s perfect,” Höbin said, visibly relieved as he dropped back into his chair. “A tiny seal hidden in a sea of intelligent, hive-minded people? It’s like trying to find a specific snowflake in a mountain blizzard. Brilliant place to hide something… as long as our people don’t know it’s here.” He glanced over at Chuck. “They don’t know it’s here, right?”
“Mahan’s pink panties, no,” Chuck gasped.
He paused.
“Well… not that I know of.”
Höbin slumped.
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Chuck added. “I wasn’t in charge, remember? I’m just the messenger. So stop blaming and start helping, alright?”
The gnome nodded. “What do you need from me?”
Lili stepped forward, parchment in hand, and sat next to Höbin. “We have a puzzle to solve,” she said gently. “Morphiophelius tells me you’re the best at what you do.”
He took the paper, adjusting his artificial eye as he scanned the contents.
“Is this your work?” he asked.
She nodded. “My father insists on documentation. I’ve had… practice.”
Höbin’s metal fingers traced the list of names and locations she’d compiled.
“Do you think we can find it?” she asked nervously. “The seal?”
He looked up with a crooked smile. “My dear child, I’m the one who discovered the damnable things existed in the first place. This should be a cakewalk.”
Dax grumbled behind me, “I hate cake.”
How far into these characters were you when you wrote this? They are so rich and clearly well known to you long before you got here. I just wondered how long it took before you sounded this real and smooth?