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: Steel & Stone’s victory in the Trench Wars drew more attention than expected. The mysterious Ian Twofold, assistant to President Stump, appeared with government enforcers to “request” Wendell’s cooperation. Under threat to his friends and to Morty’s life’s work, Wendell reluctantly agreed to win the games—and promote the government's agenda.
Chapter 58
The universe always provides a way for conflicts to be resolved and challenges to be overcome—no matter how great, no matter the odds against you.
The key is to stick to your current course until the way presents itself.
The second Ian Twofold and his government thugs walked out the front door, we locked the warehouse down like a fortress.
Every room, every hallway, every drawer was scanned and re-scanned for bugs and hidden cameras. Ian had known way too much—especially about Morty and Deloris’ ties to the G.R.R. That freaked everyone out. Cryo scanned the place twice, and when it found nothing, Nat practically dismantled him to verify his calibrations.
Same result: nothing.
“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Nat finally admitted, frustrated. Then he dove straight into the Grid, searching for any hint of new surveillance tech—something Ian might’ve used.
Still nothing.
Which made the whole thing worse.
“It shouldn’t be a great mystery,” said Lili from the recliner across the room. She had a blanket across her shoulders and this ridiculously huge genealogy tome from Höbin’s library on her lap. Her voice was flat. Calm. Apparently, we were all missing something obvious. “Ian wouldn’t need a listening device to know we were here with Morty.”
Morty objected immediately. “Yes, he would. We’ve taken every precaution to keep this location a secret. We’ve hidden the S.L.A.G. transport, even—”
“Had interviews with reporters in your own kitchen,” Lili cut in.
Dax frowned. “That wasn’t about Morty, though. Rishima interviewed Alhannah. Morty wasn’t even there.”
Lili smiled faintly. “Until he wandered in to drag Chuck out of the room.” She looked back at her book. “Remember that night? He was scowling and complaining, and he interrupted the end of the interview. Didn’t you cut her off mid-sentence, Morty?”
She didn’t wait for an answer.
…just took a bite of toast and turned the page.
Huh, I like smart girls.
Especially pretty and smart girls.
Nibbles snorted. “For someone who hates tech, she sure doesn’t miss much.”
Deloris set her mug down. “Alright, let’s say that’s true. They knew we were here, fine. But that still doesn’t explain how Ian knew about me… or the G.R.R.?”
The room paused.
Lili didn’t even look up.
“Could be a bluff," she said. "Wendell said Bellows supports all the factions, right? So the question is—does that include the G.R.R.? If so, and the government watches his money, then Ian’s just connecting dots. I think he’s baiting you.”
That theory made as much sense as anything else. No wonder Höbin was going on and on about how smart Lili was…and how grateful he was for her help.
Did I mention that I really like smart girls?
*sigh*
We finished dinner in silence. One by one, everyone drifted away to their rooms… until only Chuck, Deloris, and I were left.
I hadn’t touched the kitchen table.
Couldn’t bring myself to. Just sat on the floor with my back to the others, pretending to eat off the coffee table while I stewed in shame.
I made a deal with the devil.
At the first sign of trouble…when I’m supposed to be some kind of hero…I folded. I gave in to the threat. Just like that.
I didn’t fight; I surrendered.
"That you did," whispered Doubt.
Go away.
"Hey. I get it, buddy. What were you supposed to do? For all your faults, you're actually a decent guy, Wendell. You care. That's not a weakness, even when others use that against you."
Seriously. Go away.
"Alright."
The food tasted like rubber. My stomach was a mess. I shoved the plate away and sank back into the couch, suddenly wishing I could run.
Not hide. Run.
To move until my lungs burned. To focus on anything but this guilt.
I hopped up, planning to slip out the back door… when Deloris stopped me.
“Thank you, Wendell.”
Her voice hit like a brick. My hand gripped the doorframe to keep from collapsing. I turned slowly and looked at her.
“For what?”
She walked over, gently patted my forearm, and leaned in to kiss me on the forehead like a mom would.
“For protecting me.”
I could barely breathe.
“I can’t imagine the pressure you’re under,” she said quietly, “but I know you care. I’ve seen it. You worry about people—even when you’re scared. Even when you have every reason to walk away.” I dropped my eyes, but she tilted my chin back up. “You’re a good person, Wendell. Look at me.”
I did.
She pulled me into a warm hug.
“You took the focus off me and what I do…and you saved me. I’m grateful.”
When she let go, Chuck stepped closer, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to hide emotion.
“She’s right, son. You are a good person.”
“Stop it.”
“What?” he said innocently. “She can say it, but I can’t? I know you better than she does. I’ve been watching you up here for years.” He tapped his temple.
I smirked. “That doesn’t mean you know me, Chuck. That just means you’re mentally unstable.”
“Har, har,” he said, jabbing me with his staff. “You believe what you like. We’ll figure something out. We just have to move forward like that political fart residue never showed his face.”
I blinked at him. “You’ve got a mouth on you tonight.”
He grumbled. “Well, I hate politicians. Always grinning while they gut people and rewrite the rules so they never get caught. The lot of ’em need to slip on banana peels down a well.”
“Ouch,” I winced. “Harsh.”
Chuck waved dismissively. “Don’t mind me. I’m done. Let’s just focus on one challenge at a time.”
With a wave of his hand and a sharp “silmä inakmään,” the door to Chuck’s library flickered into view.
I blinked, surprised. “Wait, you DO use that on more than just the Ithari and spoons?”
Chuck chuckled. “What? You think that spell only works on sacred stones and utensils?”
I stared at him and folded my arms.
"Oh, alRIGHT. Stop looking at me like that. You made yourself disappear, and I was…well, a bit jealous. I've never been able to do that trick. You're quite a natural when it comes to magic. It's for the emotionally strong."
"That's not me," I said.
Chuck scoffed. "Really? You do hard things, even when you know there will be consequences for yourself. You push forward, even when you're scared and even unsure…especially to help others. You don't think that's emotionally strong?"
“I… never thought about it, actually.” I ran my hand over the metal doorframe, just needing to reassure myself that it was real. “Guess I need to rethink how these spells can be used.”
“That you do, son. That you do indeed.”
Höbin had wasted no time in making himself at home. It didn’t take long for me to realize there were some serious perks to working with a wizard. Especially one who could pull who-knows-what out of a hat…or his sleeve.
Tucked in the corner near Chuck’s desk and the espresso machine were two large barrels. A stained mug rested on the edge of the desk, black residue lining the rim.
I narrowed my eyes. “Is that…?”
Chuck shut the door behind us and locked it with a twist of his wrist. “Sometimes you need a little more kick to get the work flowing,” he said with a sheepish grin. Then, with a finger to his lips, he whispered, “Best not let the monkey know we brought any of the black stuff with us.”
Höbin was hunched over Chuck’s desk, his face lit by the flicker of three candles held in black ceramic hands. He was surrounded by small books and what looked like a miniaturized laptop. Lili sat across the room at her own desk, furiously scribbling with quill and ink into a massive green volume.
“Anything new, Höbin?” Chuck asked, leading me to the chairs in front of the fire.
“I think so,” the historian replied without looking up. “These guilds records have been most helpful. The real challenge now is substantiating the personal claims of greatness in the community. Everyone seems convinced they were the best.” He paused, adjusted his bifocals, then looked up and smiled. “Oh, hello, Wendell! Good to see you, my boy. How are you faring in our great city thus far?”
I stretched out my legs and let my head fall back a bit. “Good. I think. I mean, I won my first Trench fight and made it to the second tier... but I’ve also managed to make a lot of people upset with me.”
Höbin leaned back, yawning as he stretched. “Have you now? Good for you!”
I raised an eyebrow. “Good?”
He grinned. “Gnomes are an emotional and critical bunch. You can’t do anything around here without ticking someone off. With so many sharp minds and strong opinions, there’s never going to be total agreement. Just remember: you can’t fix stupid. Stick to what you’re meant to do, and things will work out in the end.”
“Or the end will come and it won’t matter anyway,” Chuck muttered with a smug grin. “Because it’ll be over.”
“Exactly!” Höbin blurted, as if Chuck had just helped make his point. “Take this puzzle, for instance. Chuck was sent here to give the seal to the greatest of all tinkerers, right?”
“That’s what I said,” Chuck snorted.
“The trouble is, gnomes love claiming fame. It’s in our nature. We measure personal value based on how we’re perceived. One of our strengths—ambition—also happens to be our greatest weakness.”
I frowned. “You lost me.”
Höbin held up a small black book with a red spine and a crimson ribbon dangling from its pages. “This ledger is a copy of a scroll nearly three hundred years old. That’s about the right age, considering Chuck claims he was approached by the Hero two hundred thirty-six years ago.”
Chuck grunted. “That’s what I said.”
“This book holds the names of all the top tinkerers from that era. According to the guilds, that is—which means every single one of them.”
I scrunched up my face, trying to wrap my head around that.
Höbin chuckled. “Each guild wants to be the most valuable guild in all of Clockworks. But instead of ranking themselves by inventions or accolades, they measure value based on the number of famous members. See the flaw?”
“So the more names they have…”
“Even if they weren’t the best of the best…”
“…means they get top ranking among the guilds?”
“Exactly.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay, but how does that help? Sounds like a giant exercise in ego-stroking to me.”
Lili peeked up from her book. “May I answer that, Mr. Luckyfeller?”
Höbin waved her forward, already pulling out his pipe. “By all means.”
She walked around the desk and handed me a sheet of parchment. A long list of names—at least two hundred, if I had to guess.
She casually sat on the arm of my chair, rubbing up against my shoulder.
Lili smelled strongly of cinnamon.
"Did you just…sniff the girl?" Doubt gawked.
Shut UP.
"Leaving. Leaving. ….but good luck, kiddo." Doubt laughed.
When I noticed Lili had paused, I looked up to find her staring down at my shirt.
…the smily face was staring up at her, its pupils now red and heart-shaped.
I clenched my eyes tight and sighed softly.
This is so bad.
Lili cleared her throat and slipped off the arm of the chair. “Clockworks official records only document real contributions—things that improved the lives of citizens. The good news is, they give credit to everyone involved in a success. So what we’re doing now is matching any name from the guild ledgers to names that also show up in official city records.”
I handed the parchment back, not making eye contact. “And if the names don’t show up in both?”
She shrugged. “Then it’s probably just fluff. A bluff for guild rankings. And that saves us time.”
I nodded. “Alright. So how do we find out who really was the greatest tinkerer of all?”
Höbin struck a match and drew the flame down into his pipe with a slow pull. “By looking at his or her actual contributions to Clockworks.”
I leaned back and stared into the hearth, watching the flames dance across the wood. I considered his words in silence for several long minutes. Across from me, Chuck drifted off. His breathing deepened and then slipped into snoring.
But a thought kept itching at the back of my brain.
“That’s no guarantee that you’ll be right about who the tinkerer is,” I blurted out suddenly.
Höbin didn’t flinch. He just stared at me through the rising curl of smoke.
“And there’s no guarantee that even if you find out who had the seal back then,” I added, “it’ll lead you to the person who has it now, right?”
He exhaled a perfect smoke ring. “No, it doesn’t.”
I didn’t know what else to say after that.
“Have some faith,” Lili said. When I dared to look up, she was actually…smiling at me. “You’ve been led this far, haven’t you?”
I laughed. “Yeah. In a looping pretzel kind of way.”
She crinkled her nose. “A… pretzel?”
“Never mind.”
From the corner, Chuck snorted in his sleep. “Mmmmmm. Pretzels… mustard… pizza…”
I grinned and nudged him gently with my foot.
“SNOCKHOCKEY!” he exploded, flipping straight over the arm of the chair with a loud thud as he hit the floor.
“Are you okay?!” I dropped to my knees beside him, half laughing, half horrified. “I’m so sorry, Chuck—I didn’t mean to startle you like that, y-you were snoring and—”
The wizard blinked up at me. “Wha—? Oh, I’m fine, son. Just fine.” He smacked his lips together thoughtfully. “Though I sure do have a hankering for a salty pretzel about now.”
I hardly slept that night.
Dreams clawed at my peace like wolves in the dark…each more disturbing than the last. I was trapped in some kind of mud pit, spat out from a gaping hole in the side of a mountain.
My body ached, sore and bruised.
The air reeked, heavy with the stench of feces, rot, mold...and death.
And I wasn’t alone.
Gnomes in rags crawled through the filth like broken things, digging with bare hands through the muck. For what, I couldn’t even guess.
But it was the children who haunted me.
Tiny, starving gnome children.
Bellies bloated.
Faces were soaked in tears.
Crying out with hoarse, dry voices, no one heard.
I woke drenched in sweat.
By the time breakfast rolled around, most of us had gathered in the kitchen and around the couch, waiting on WHRN to announce the second tier matchups. The room thrummed with energy and fast beats; the speakers blared updates while the coffee drained fast.
Before the last cup was poured, the rounds were assigned.
Dax would go first, facing Hook and Betty 4.0. Alhannah would follow Beatdown and Skyline. I’d be in the last match again, this time against a team called Armored Ensemble and their pilot, Alpha Fighter.
“We also have two official offers for side fights, if we’re interested,” Nat said, looking up from his screen. “And a handful of other inquiries asking if we’re open to additional side offers.”
Alhannah drained her mug and stood. “Who’s offering?”
“It’s the Rydell Corporation.” Nat tapped a few keys. “They’re demolishing a section of buildings they own. First offer’s for Dax. Hand-to-hand with Beatdown, but the conditions are no S.L.A.G. weapons. Just grappling inside the building to bring it down. It’ll be covered on some local networks, which would give us decent exposure.”
Alhannah raised an eyebrow. “What’s the second?”
Nat turned the laptop so she could see the screen. “You and Wendell versus the Boom-Boom Brothers.”
I blinked. “The who?”
She didn’t even look at me. Just strolled over to the sink and set her dishes down. “They’re the two pilots who got bumped when we accepted your team offer. They’d already qualified, but you and Dax took their spots. Might be lookin’ for payback. Rich kids.”
I sighed. “Lovely.”
Nat shrugged. “So… do we want either match?”
“What’s the pay?” Alhannah asked, still turned away.
“Twenty thousand credits for a loss, eighty for a win.”
She spun around. “That’s a massive purse.”
Nat nodded. “And that’s just for Dax’s fight. You and Wendell’s match pays sixty-five for a loss, one-ninety if you win.”
Freak practically launched out of his seat. He snapped his suspenders and grinned. “Well, I say, butt grease and gear nuts! We could get rich just entertainin’ the side crowds!” He wagged his coffee mug at Alhannah. “You take those bouts, and we’ll keep you primed for the real thing. That’s more than enough credits to cover any repairs…unless you totally botch the fights.”
He adjusted the goggles on his face. “Even losin’, we can have your S.L.A.G.s ready for the semis in two days.”
Dax rapped his knuckles on the table. “Then sign me up.”
I grinned at Alhannah and gave a nod. “Me too.”
Freak clapped his grease-stained hands together, rubbing them like he was warming up for a feast. “Bout time we earned our keep! Break out the steel and torches, ladies—we got some work to do!”
