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: A cheating S.L.A.G. pilot turns out to be a second chance miracle for Wendell. Directly addressing the public, he calls upon the mob to turn the tide against those seeking to eliminate him from the Trench Wars competition.

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Chapter 70

It’s frustrating when those who don’t care…and those who refuse to play ‘by the rules’ win so often.
But the Universe uses them for its own purposes.
…which may be to bring about justice for you.

“Why do you read that trash?” Dax chided me. “There’s a lot to do ya know.”

I grinned at him and tossed the borrowed copy of ‘A Clean Kill in Clockworks’ on my bed.

“It’s not trash, Dax,” I smirked. “Buddy Keisler is the most famous thriller writer in Clockworks history. Every record or award you can think of, this guy beat it…with a fan base in the hundreds of millions.”

“Gnomes,” he grumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“They’re not exactly known for their ‘refined’ tastes, ya know.”

I laughed. “Says the elf who loves moldy cheese and raw fish sandwiches.”

“Not the same thing,” he grumbled again.

“Yeah,” I said, “your example is gross.”

Dax smirked, but didn’t reply.

It was silly, I know, but reading about a half-gnome, half-Kutollum assassin for hire? It was kinda fun.

…besides, when have you ever heard of a killer dropping a piano on a victim and making it look like a ‘natural’ accident?

I mean, come on.

But he did…and it was brilliant writing.

“The main character, ‘Bookworm’, masquerades as a popular thriller writer.” I said.

“So?”

“So the writer, Buddy Keisler…is writing about an assassin pretending to BE a writer.”

Dax just snorted.

“Trust me, it’s addictive,” I said. “Besides, with all the violence I’ve experienced, the books help me relax…and get my mind off what’s coming next.”

“You could also get yer mind off the next fight by focusing on yer training and not filling that space between yer ears with trash. That’s all I’m sayin’ kid.”

“I’m telling you it’s not…” but I stopped. “Honestly, it’s fantastic…which, okay, I’m surprised to say out loud. Normally, I enjoy fantasy and science fiction. Comic books — a definite yes. But Freak swore by this author, and now I see why.”

Dax just shook his head. “Whatever.”

“Come on…don’t you ever read to relax?” I asked.

“Reading’s for research, not relaxation, kid….and only if you can’t pay some other loser to do it for you.”

“Ouch,” I said. “That’s harsh.”

“Don’t listen to the ninny,” Chuck snorted as he appeared in the doorway. “He’s just mad that they stopped writing the ‘Tardy Boys’ Mystery collection.”

“Ah-HAH!” I laughed. “So you DO read!”

Chuck scratched his scalp, considering. “I think he almost had the full 200-book series.”

“194,” Dax grumbled. “They don’t print the first six books anymore.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“FINE. I read, but only things that don’t suck.” He lit a match on his chin and stoked a cigar. “If I could get my hands on a copy of ‘The Tower Treasure’ I wouldn’t care so much about the others. I just want to know how it all started!”

“Good stories?” I asked.

Dax grinned widely. “Best ever. Gnome brothers, Frank and Joe Tardy…teen immature sleuths. Late to everything, but solved mysteries in style.”

“Children’s books,” Chuck grunted.

“Masterpieces,” growled Dax.

“You wasted your money,” Chuck teased.

“I didn’t buy them, old man. YOU did.”

The mägo paused. “I did?”

Dax nodded.

“Well then, they must be proper literature,” Chuck corrected himself. He leaned towards me and whispered. “I have impeccable taste, you know.” He tapped the end of his nose with his index finger and winked. “Remember that.”

We all laughed.

“Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat.

“For what, son?” Chuck asked.

“For…being here…with me.” I wasn’t completely sure how to express what I was thinking, but there hadn’t been much time for the three of us to engage in conversations. At least not in private. “I’m glad we’re here.”

Dax scoffed. “You hit yer head?”

“Yes,” I said. “I mean no, but yes. Or rather yes, but no.”

Chuck grabbed my shoulders, pulled me in and started inspecting my skull. “I think he has…”

I pulled away with a snort. “What I mean is I’m glad we’re helping people. Doing good because it’s the right thing to do.” I looked between them and smiled. For the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel forced or fake. I actually felt like smiling. “I’m happy to be here with you guys.”

“Wow,” Dax breathed. “Look who’s growing up all o’sudden…”

Chuck pulled a gray handkerchief from his sleeve and dabbed his eyes. “It happens so fast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I was trying to have a moment of gratitude, that’s all. I appreciate both of you, and I thought you’d want to know that I’m more confident about my place in this world.” I smiled again. “Because of you two.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, kid,” Dax burped.

“Nice response, Mr. Manners,” Chuck chided.

“Integrity, old man. Gotta be who I gotta be…”

Chuck nudged me with an elbow. “You should show him.”

I frowned.

“Go on,” he nudged again. “Really. You should show him what you’ve learned.” He looked at Dax, his eyebrows bobbing up and down. “He’s been practicing magic.”

Dax took another draw of the cigar, then exhaled. “Yeah?”

The wizard slapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “OH yeah.”

“Right. Show me whatcha got, kid.” And with that, Dax pulled up a stool and plopped down, folding his arms.

You know those times when you THINK you understand something, and you know it well, but then someone expects you to perform on demand?

…and then can’t seem to figure out how to do what you prepared for?

Yeah.

“Uhhhh,” I looked to Chuck. “We don’t have the protections here like we do in—”

“Woah. Wait,” Dax blurted, hopping up and backing away from both of us. “You’ve been practicing with fire, haven’t you?”

I frowned. “What?”

Dax glared at Chuck. “You PROMISED me!”

Now it was my turn to stare at Chuck. “What’s he talking abo...”

“Cause I’m not interested in fire magic, alright? I’ll cheer you on all you want…but I want to do it preferably from next door.”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I was shown fire magic, but I wasn’t taught anything like that, no.”

“Ah.” Dax sighed with relief. “Right. Okay.” He sat back down. “Then show me whatcha got.”

Right. Dance, chicken, dance.

Relaxing my stance, I tuned out the intense stares and let me arms hang loosely.

I exhaled.

Focusing on a special image in my mind, I whispered, “Välo.”

Over my head, roughly three feet above me, a large globe of light came to life. It started like the dawn of a new day, breathing a soft glow into the cold concrete room. Keeping my focus, I pictured a morning sun slowly appearing over the crest of a hillside…and the orb of light reacted to it exactly.

Dax’s cigar dropped from his mouth.

Next, I whispered, “Teho,” and the light increased, sending out its warm glow throughout the room, brighter and brighter.

“Kid, this is…AMAZING,” Dax gasped.

Chuck grinned. “He’s not done.”

I imagined the orb splitting into four perfect sections. I’d struggled with this for weeks, so I’d come up with a perfect visual: a pie being sliced, each part floating to the furthest wall. As the parts drifted through the air, each ‘slice’ elongated into what might look like those industrial tube lights you find in schools or old factories. Four perfectly identical tubes of light hovered at the top center of each wall of the room.

“Mäjäkä.”

The lights then rolled into four smaller orbs. Cookie dough. Not exactly graceful, but it worked. Then imagining an invisible rolling pin, each orb flattened out, shining like spotlights.

Dax gasped.

In perfect harmony, they all pivoted down, focusing on me.

I stood there like a high school kid on stage trying out for the latest class play.

“Well, I’ll be…” Dax whispered.

“Wait for it,” Chuck giggled.

It’s not easy to keep that kind of focus, and I could feel the sweat beading on my forehead…but this was my favorite part.

“Säko,” I hissed, and threw out my arms. Palms open, fingers spread wide.

All four spotlights crackled like miniature thunder, tightening to electricity…and jumped to both my hands.

“TA-DAAAA!” Chuck screamed. “How’s THAT for talent!”

I couldn’t help but smile at Dax, standing in front of him in my practiced ‘hero’ stance, holding two fistfuls of lightning.

Lightning!

My skin vibrated with the power of the electricity, small arcs of blue light darting between my fingers. Slowly I brought my arms down, turned my palms inward to let the electricity collect between my hands.

Dax hopped down from the stool and walked around me slowly, careful not to touch me. “Wendell, I’ve rarely seen such control, and kid, I’ve been around a looong time. That is some serious skill.”

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s taken me almost a month of practicing hard to figure this out.”

He frowned. “A month?”

Oops.

I clamped my lips together and looked up at Chuck.

The wizard averted his eyes and started whistling as he made his way towards the door.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Dax growled, then grabbed the hem of Chuck’s robe. “You got back in, DIDN’T you?! You found your way into the Great Library, and you’ve been messing with that freaky hourglass thingy…HAVEN’T you?!?”

“Uh, Chuck?” I said.

Chuck spun about, his face stern as he leaned down to the evolu. “I haven’t TOUCHED it!!!”

“I don’t BELIEVE you, Chuck! You’re HOOKED on making time start and stop!!” Dax yelled.

My hands trembled, the arcs of electricity growing. “Um,…guys?”

Chuck raised his right arm to the square, palm forward. “I swear to you, monkey, on my BEARD, that I have not touched the hourglass or manipulated time once since I gave you my word.”

Dax glared at him through slitted eyelids. “You promise?”

The wizard crossed his chest with a bony finger. “Cross my heart…and hope Mahan dies.”

That’s when my whole body quivered. The charge I was holding between my palms popped and cracked louder as the muscles down my arms tensed. My fingers curved inward, an unseen force forcing them together. The hair on my head rose to stand on end. “Läkätä,” I whispered.

Nothing happened.

“Läkätä,” I said again.

“Läkätä, läkätä, läkätä,” I stammered, waving my hands about.

Okay, this is…uh, guys?!”

“Then how in spit is the kid finding the time to learn magic like this outside of his training schedule?”

Chuck grinned and folded his arms. “Eva helped us.”

“GUYS!”

Both of them turned…just as the built-up electricity jumped from my hands to the stool Dax had been sitting on just moments ago.

ZZZAP!!

The stool…exploded.

The pieces caught on fire.

I gave them a weak grin, then combed my hand through my hair, freeing it from static. “Sorry.”

Chuck shrugged. “Apparently, she didn’t help enough.” Flipping his hat off his head, he pulled a fire extinguisher from it and sprayed the flames with foam.

“WENDELL! CHUCK! DAX!”

We sprinted to the kitchen to find Morty, Deloris, Alhannah and the crew standing in a half-circle around the TV.

A massive building was ablaze.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Things just got serious,” Alhannah hissed.

I looked to Chuck, but he shrugged, looking as confused as I felt.

“It’s one of the main factories,” whispered Lili. She was crying silently , her face red and puffy. “One of Mr. Bellows factories. An explosion.” She turned and left the room.

“Ladies and gentlegnomes,” said the anchorgnome on the screen, “we don’t have the full details yet, but sources say the Bellows Gearworks had a full shift inside when the explosion went off. Locals say the fire sprang up rapidly, air feeding the flames through a collapsed roof. Though many escaped through various exits, it is feared that most of the shift ended up trapped inside.”

Someone stepped up to the young gnome, whispering something to her. A slip of paper was handed over.

Her countenance fell.

“TGII help us,” she choked.

For a long moment, the anchorgnome fought to control her emotions, but couldn’t say anything. She just stared at the slip of paper, and wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. She looked off-camera.

“You sure this is accurate?”

Again a pause, then a deep shuttering breath.

Her posture changes.

Standing tall, she blinks several times, then turns to the camera.

“WHRN Breaking News: A catastrophic explosion has leveled Bellows Gearworks in the Lower Clockwork District. Witnesses report a male gnome, identified as Derrin Cogswill, running in and out of the blaze to save trapped workers before the main boiler ruptured. Officials say that more than 200 gnomes are confirmed dead…”

The reporter’s voice is crisp.

Calm.

Like she’s talking about the weather.

On the TV, we see looping scenes. The factory looks like something alive...a mouth belching fire. The roof groans inward, timbers snapping and jutting out. The heat can be seen rising, twisting the air, warping every surface around it. Gnomes run. So small…some dragging bodies, others limping together, blackened and coughing through the smoke.

Alhannah turned to stare me in the face.

Her jaw clenched, head slightly tilted forward, so the overhead light cast shadows under her brows.

There was nothing behind those eyes except the mild reflection of the motion of fire from the TV.

“This just got personal,” she whispered.

It terrified me.

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70. FAIR PLAY