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: With his ruthless lawyers behind him, Chuck takes control of WHRN and the Brothers Trench, giving Freak and the TNT crew just 48 hours to build a flying S.L.A.G. and rescue Dax from execution...
Chapter 95
Some people don’t care about the truth…they only care about being right.
Even when the evidence is irrefutable, these same mud-butts will fight tooth and nail to defend their position. They will claw, accuse, condemn, ignore and outright lie...so long as they do not have to admit, accept or apologize.
All I can say is, I’m sorry. Those people do exist.
I looked up through my sweat-drenched hair.
It was hard to blink, trying to get the salt water out so I could see clearly, but it was no use. Sweat drizzled across my eyebrows, pooling at the bridge of my nose.
I blinked again anyway.
Even the sharpest pain had lost its effect. My body flinched from reflex now. The razor cuts burned with a fire that had diminished to a dull ache.
So…tired.
I blinked again.
Perched on a tiny stool sat a fat monk with large, round glasses. Dipping his quill pen into the inkwell, which was balanced precariously on the corner of the altar, he continued his scribbling. Pushing the glasses back up onto his bulbous nose, he muttered, “...and that’s all I know. Right then,” he looked up at Noah—who seemed preoccupied in his own anger. “I have a wizard, Dax the troll...”
“He’s...,” I sputtered under my breath, “not...a troll.”
“Right then,” scribbling, “I’ll place a footnote here to that fact. Uhhhh, here we are—a girl and you came here because you were dead and now you’re not, which was accomplished by gnome technology.” He stopped, reading the notes over again, just to make sure he got the wording correct. “Um, father Noah...I was unaware that we had the ability to bring people back from the dead.”
“We don’t,” Noah snarled.
“Ah, yes, but Mr. Dipmier just said...”
“THIS,” snapped Noah, reaching over and grabbing a fist full of the fat gnome’s hood, “is why we interrogate! To sift through the LIES!”
“You got what you wanted,” Tabbermain whispered, “Let the boy be.”
Noah released the scribe and strolled casually around the alter, side stepping the small trails of blood soaking between the cobblestone. With each step, Tabbermain and Vin withdrew…scuffling up against the wall and dragging their chains with them. The monk sneered at the aged prisoners, holding the tiny whip high. Blood dripped from the speckles of flesh trapped between the jagged grooves of the weapon.
“Would you like to take his place?” he warned.
Both gnomes cowered and shook their heads vigorously.
Noah turned slightly and looked over his shoulder. It disgusted him to be here. To look upon the human filth anchored to the alter. It disgusted him that a human was even in Clockworks, polluting his homeland. But it infuriated Noah even more that he could not break the will of this creature who the people were calling the Gnolaum.
Without warning, Noah spun around and dropped his forward knee, using his whole body to power the blow of the snake whip. Metal shards tore through black cloth and embedded deeply into my flesh. Blood splattered up Noah’s dark robe and across his cheek.
I quivered, but made little sound. There was no energy left. Something in each strike that shattered any resilience I had, or resistance to pain. My outstretched hands, held in place by the chains, spasmed against the stone, then went limp. My eyes, bloodshot and unfocused, fluttered briefly...then closed.
“Disgusting,” Noah hissed, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe. He’d have to change now. Clean the heretic’s blood off of his person. It would not do to have the monks look upon him as anything but the most civilized of leaders. It would cast doubt in uneducated minds…to see their spiritual father doused with the blood of...he looked down at Wendell...an enemy.
Tossing the whip into the open box, Noah reached into the sleeve of his robe and pulled out a worn handkerchief. He wiped his cheek properly.
“This will continue, until I get the information I am looking for, Mr. Dipmier.” Examining the cloth, he folded it over and used the clean side to wipe his cheek again. “Or,” he stared down sternly, “until it’s time for the offering. Either way, your visit here is about to come to an end.”
A heavy knock sounded at the door.
Noah kept his gaze upon Wendell. “Enter.”
Light from the hallway torches trickled into the chamber and a thin, wiry figure strode past the scribe and up to Father Noah.
“We may have enough,” he whispered. He glanced over uneasily at the scribe, then down at the unconscious human. “I think you should take inventory yourself, isä.”
A sly grin flashed over Noah’s face…a predator smelling the blood of wounded prey. His wide nostrils of the hawk-like nose flared, “Good.” Shoving the handkerchief back up his sleeve, he turned abruptly and strode towards the door. “I’ll give you time to consider your predicament, Mr. Dipmier,” the comment had an undertone of danger, assuring that it would be conveyed to the hero when he woke. Noah turned at the doorway and glared back at Tabbermain, though his comment was meant for Wendell. “I would advise you not to squander it. For when I return, the enchantment granted by your fellow inmates will be broken and we will allow the chains of frost to do the work they were initially created for.”
Tabbermain averted his gaze. His quivering fingers absentmindedly rubbed his wrists.
The guards filed out of the chamber after Father Noah, the flustered scribe scooping up his pen, ink and papers. Lifting the hem of his robe with one hand, supplies in the other, he dashed through the door, before it closed sharply behind.
“Ungh! These theatrics,” Noah grumbled, waving at the torches. Pulling a small chain from around his neck, he aimed the tiny device attached to the end and clicked one of its many buttons. With a whirl and click, rows of florescent bulbs flipped down from hidden compartments, flaring overhead and flooding the hallway with artificial light. Noah gave a sigh of relief. Composing himself, hands slid into the folds of his sleeves. He gave the scribe a warning glance, which kept him at a distance, escorted by the monk guard. Noah then turned back to the messenger. “Report.”
Now that the overhead lights were on, the thin gnome looked even more gaunt compared to his superior. His sharp cheekbones cast shadows across his face, and his paper thin lips were a near replica of Noah’s own. He bowed his head quickly, “Yes, isä. We have recorded your conversations as instructed. The quality of sound is quite good. Perfectly useable.”
“Footage?”
“We have taken footage at key points of your conversation, but I don’t think we have much to use. The lighting is bad, angles and you,” he hesitated, not wanting to anger Noah, “tend to move about a lot while you speak.”
The monk did not slacken his pace. “Did you get any close ups?”
“We did. A few during your more compassionate poses and the Gnol---,” he started to say, but a sharp glare from Noah gave the monk second thoughts. “...human, at his most emotional or angry. We should be able to piece enough footage together, if you feel the quality is good enough.”
The session had gone on for hours, despite Noah’s efforts to break Wendell. It wasn’t as impressive so much as frustrating. Though he’d wanted the human to reveal his secrets, Noah was more interested in causing a great deal of pain and suffering. Payment for all the injustices against the gnome race. Of all the injustices about to befall the gnome race. “Mr. Dipmier has remarkable recuperative powers.” Too remarkable for a mere human, but he didn’t make that thought known. “We will let him rest for now, see to these recordings you have made and if they fall short, well,” his devious smile returned, “we’ll have to provide the boy with another opportunity to confess.”
The group followed a turn in the hallway, then another.
“Is he a mägo then?” the messenger asked aloud.
Noah snorted. “Did you not see his performance at the WHRN station? Of course he’s a mägo, you fool.” He did nothing to hide his disgust at the word describing the grotesque magical practitioners. “And he’s had the aid of those thorns in my side.”
“We did keep the footage of Tabbermain aiding the boy, isä. Would you like that separated out? It could be used to begin a new inquiry.”
Father Noah shook his head and slowed his pace to a crawl. The guards behind them placed firm hands on the shoulders of the scribe. They stood afar off, granting privacy to their leader.
At the end of the hallway, two monks armed with guns, stood guarding the main exit…thick transparent walls and a single steel door, separating the original dungeon and the remodeled basement of the holy shrine of TGII.
“No need. The techno-clowns have nothing further we can use, now that the gate has been reactivated. The scales, dear brother, have finally been tipped in our favor.” A smile peeled back over both their thin mouths. “The Religious Faction will soon be the only faction in control…and the only faction left!”
The monk looked over Noah’s shoulder at the scribe, then whispered, “And if you cannot find where the last seal is located?”
Father Noah gave a wary glance at the armed guards ahead of them “Then no one shall find it,” he hissed, grabbing the monk’s robe and pulling him closer. Gritting his teeth, the thin black mustache quivered on his upper lip. “I will cast that human into the darkness where he belongs…to be consumed with the rest of the traitors!”
“A-as you say, Isä Noah,” the monk shuttered, “so shall it be done.”
Noah nodded and made a fluid gesture to the exit. “Now show me what your department has recorded.”
I stumbled.
Hands outstretched, I gained my balance before falling over.
My feet felt so very heavy.
No, it wasn’t that they were heavy. My muscles didn’t seem to want to work.
The smiley, its bright yellow face practically glowing on the front of my shirt, was frozen in a content expression, completely inanimate.
Weird.
The sound of crickets tickled my senses. It was something I hadn’t heard in months. You just don’t hear those sounds of nature in Clockworks City, and I hadn’t realized I’d missed the sensation. I walked to the edge of tree line and looked up.
Nothing about this area looked familiar.
The sky was clear, the moons high. I could even see the flower formation of lights on Iskäri-Käläm. Erimuri was alive and bright tonight.
My head swayed from side to side…the sheer weight of it taxing the muscles in my neck.
I noticed a glow in the distance. Walking up a little ridge, yellow lights flickered down the hillside.
A town? Village maybe? I didn’t actually care, so long as it wasn’t ablaze or deserted.
“Well, you’ll never know unless you start walking, Wendell,” I said aloud.
Shifting among the rocks, careful with my footing, I started my way down, focusing on the lights of the dwellings.
I looked down at my hands. Though they looked normal in the moonlight, my fingers felt swollen.
Sore.
Tired.
Needed to rest.
It was then that I noticed.
The mountains seemed so large and intimidating, now that I’d left the protection of the forest. Giant formations jutting up from the ground, tops covered in snow…glistening in the moonlight. The curtain of trees in front disguised the base of the mountains...like black fingers trying to claw at the sky.
An animal howled in the distance.
“Okay Wendell, we are walking,” Doubt gulped.
Good idea.
Walking fast and focused, going toWARDS the light sounded wise to me. My feet moved quickly, but I restrained myself from a full-fledged sprint. I mean, the last thing I wanted was to be noticed by a would-be predator, right?
Right. Of course.
It could be…hungry…on the hunt for human fast food.
Another howl.
I’d read an article once that intermittent sprinting was a very healthy exercise. Being healthy was a good choice…and I wanted to make good choices.
How did I get here?
“Just keep sprinting,” Doubt gulped.
I know, but…the last thing I remembered was being chained to a stone alter. If I was right, somewhere in the Church or temple of TGII.
“What does that matter right now?”
I swallowed as the third howl ripped through the silence of the night. This time it was close.
Too close.
What good was intermittently exercising, anyway? Tough guys go all out and push themselves, right?
“Yes!”
I could see the buildings better now. Fields of what looked like corn and other plants were growing tall, with barns in the distance. Lanterns ablaze outside small homes.
Shadows moved.
…and my heart skipped a beat.
“Horses,” coughed Doubt. “We’re okay.”
A dozen homes, maybe, scattered about. The rest of the landscape was fields, prairies and scattered clumps of trees.
It looked like any farm you might see back home on Earth.
Another howl.
…followed by a distant growl.
Not distant enough.
“Crap. Crap. Crap!” Doubt squealed. “You gotta R—*”
My legs took off with a life of their own.
Trying to suck in air, sweat started beading across my forehead.
Looking over my shoulder again, one of my heels landed on the edge of a flat stone. The moisture caused me to slip, throwing me off balance. I couldn’t catch myself…and tumbled forward with a grunt.
I hit the ground.
Hard.
“Argh!” I cried out. Rolling onto my back, I grabbed at my leg.
“We’re on the run and you have to go and wound your ankle?!” Doubt snapped.
The world around me seemed to hold its breath.
For several long moments I bit my lip to keep silent, trying hard to blend into the nothing that was silence.
Get Up Wendell.
“Hey,” Doubt gasped, “what is SHE doing here?”
That silence was broken by a faint hissing sound.
Scanning the ridge, there was nothing to see. Just open space at the end of the sloping hill.
Again I heard the hiss.
Get To The Houses, Wendell.
“LISTEN to her,” Doubt panicked, “Move it!”
Not knowing where to go or what to do, I ducked my head and tried to curl my body to mimic a stone. Wolves...or whatever beast was howling, was far scarier than a hissing snake.
...as long as it was a small snake.
“What are you DOING?!??” Doubt panicked. “Don’t mimic rocks…mimic a bird and FLY!”
Tha-Thump-Thump!
Ithari pulsed through bone and muscle. Already the pain in my ankle was subsiding and I could feel the warmth washing over skin.
Would it be enough?
“Let’s find OUT!”
The farms 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…”
Hssssss. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr.
It sounded like…scraping. Something large, being dragged over gravel.
Hssssss.
Tha-Thump-Thump!
Tha-Thump-Thump!
Get To The Houses, Wendell. Get To The Light!
Crap. Crap. CRAP! Hands shaking, I held my breath. Of course it’s a huge snake! Why would it not be? I’m out here, in the middle of nowhere, all by myself, so why wouldn’t there be something big, nasty and dangerous to EAT MY FACE!??
“You know it won’t eat our face, right? IT’S GONNA SWALLOW US WHOLE!”
Not helping!
Hssssss. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr.
I clenched my eyes tight. Stay calm, Wendell. Keep...calm.
This is where I would probably wet myself.
If I wasn’t such a hardcore tough guy, that is.
“No worries,” Doubt whimpered, “I did it for us.”
I wanted to breathe. I needed to breathe, but fear of being found kept my mouth closed.
Skkrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
My eyes wide, they darted back and forth, searching the shadows around me without moving my head.
I’m a rock. BE a rock.
Please go away.
Please...
I’m not even chewy!
Just skin and bones….all gristle.
I regretted all those late nights watching horror movies mom never wanted in the house. Stupid teenagers screaming and dying because they wouldn’t listen to adults. I didn’t want to be an animal pop tart.
Hssssss.
Tha-Thump-Thump!
Tha-Thump-Thump!
A howl in the distance cut through the night.
Hssst.
Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt.
The movements were fast and loud.
Get To The Light, Wendell!
Please. Please. Please, I trembled. Don’t eat me. I don’t taste good. There has to be a nice fat...
Then I saw it.
Long shadows stretched out across the ground, fed by the moons light. Dark shapes…rising across my shoulder.
It was not a snake.
Tattered and worn, the creature dragged itself across the rocks and grass. The contours didn’t follow any recognizable form I 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 front.
What WAS that thing?
It looked like...
No! I-it couldn’t be!?
I watched it sway, slithering from my position and dragging its mass over open ground.
I’d seen that before.
I know I had.
My mind raced, hunting for clues…some memory that might help link this creature to my past.
“What does it matter!??” Doubt squealed. “Let’s get OUT of here!”
I peeked over the rocks.
I couldn’t help but stare as the shadow swayed, slithering away from my position and dragging its mass over the open ground. At the same time, curiosity didn’t take place of the gratitude I felt. My position had gone unnoticed.
Wendell, the rock, Dipmier was still alive.
Tha-Thump-Thump!
Tha-Thump-Thump!
The pain in my ankle was all but gone now…which meant I could bolt for the homes down the hillside. Or...
“Or!?!! What do you mean OR??”
I could follow the creature, discover what it was and why I had such a familiar feeling about it.
“Follow…,” Doubt choked. “Are you INSANE?!??”
Follow it. On…my own. Out in the open?
“Riiiiiight. You hit your head. I know it. Gotta be brain damage…”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the wisest choice.
“No duh.”
The creature was still moving away and would soon reach the distant edge of the forest. Once it’s out of sight, I could make a dash for the lights in the distance.
The bright sign of hope.
I wondered, then, if the people who lived there would know what I’d just seen?
Almost there.
I watched the slithering shadow carefully.
Keep going, you ugly, that’s it.
One. Two. THREE!
Pushing up to my knees, I grinned. “See ya suck...”
HSSSST!
Poised silently off to my left was another creature.
It was not a wounded animal.
It was worse.
Tha-Thump-Thump!
Tha-Thump-Thump!
Tha-Thump-Thump!
I gasped for breath, unable to inhale as I stared into the hood of my nightmares.
The empty hood.
“Jussst a boy. Jussst a CHILD.”
Wendell…RUN.
Trembling, my feet shuffled backwards. “No,” I choked, “You’re not real. You’re just,” but I couldn’t finish the statement.
Thoughts and feelings collided with such clarity…it all came to me in an instant.
YOU!
The creature swayed in front of me, reeling up like a viper. The robe of charcoal blackness.
Til-Thorin.
The dreams.
The things seeking after the shard. That’s what it was!
But…it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be! The robe didn’t exist. It had been another creature in a robe that I’d fought.
One with magic, trying to kill Lili.
Lili....
Hollow, vacant holes stared back where a face should have been. 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 me, crawling, prowling along, pausing only to stand upright. It towered over me even while it hunched, arms outstretched, fingers…or the cloth in their place, curled inward. The words projected into my mind chilled me to the bone.
“You made your choice, boy.”
“NO!” I screamed, my senses returning.
I realized my mistake.
The robe lunged.
…but not before I arched wide, sidestepping to avoid its attack. The swipe from fleshless claws raked only air as I became a blur of motion.
Wendell…RUN!
Had to get away.
Without looking back, I spurred myself on, gulping air as I ran. There was only one place to go.
The village.
I had to warn them.
No. My brows dropped forward.
I have to protect them.
It’s time to do more. To be more. That meant accepting the mantle of the hero. I’d accepted the responsibility in front of others...even in front of the Iskari High Council…but I’d not accepted it for myself.
Evan was the real hero. I knew that now. He was the one everyone actually wanted. But they had ended up with me instead.
It was time to accept that fact once and for all.
Exerting all the strength I had, I put distance between myself and the robe. The hissing sound faded into the background of the crickets.
“If I’m not the hero,” I huffed out loud as I sprinted, “then it’s time I learn how to be one!”
Tha-THUMP-THUMP!
The words felt...good.
Powerful.
The village was close and I had no idea how much time I had before the robes would be upon them. Great, I frowned,…I’m leading the danger right to their doorsteps.
But I would need help.
Hero or not, I couldn’t do this alone.
Not yet.
I had to get everyone’s attention.
“Välo,” I barked, followed by, “Teho!” Light quickly gathered around me, blazing like a beacon, brightening the area. I held the image of my skin, glowing like the noonday sun in my mind.
“Uhhhh, Wendell?”
“Teho!” I shouted, again.
Light flared from the Ithari, bursting through the black fibers of my shirt.
HSSSST!
The robe, right on my 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!” I bellowed, “WAKE UP! EVERYONE UP! YOUR VILLAGE IS UNDER ATTACK!” It wasn’t the accurate truth, but I didn’t have time to explain. “TO ARMS!” I cried, “TO ARMS! TO ARMS!!”
I didn’t stop running until I’d reached the nearest hovel. My momentum was so great, I slammed into the front with a loud bang.
“Who is it?” called a trembling voice from inside.
“My name is Wendell,” I shouted back, banging on the door with a fist. “Your village is about to be attacked by...,” but my voice cut off.
What the crud do I call those things?
I had no idea what to say, what to call these things chasing me without sounding like a complete lunatic. “Demons,” was the only word that came to mind, but I didn’t say it out loud. The villager wouldn’t likely open up hearing that. “We need to warn your village!”
But the door remained closed.
“Did you hear me?” I shouted even louder, “You’re under attack!” I looked into the front window, but drapes covered every inch.
“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?” I gasped, “Are you serious? I’m trying to warn you! So what if I’m using magic?!” It had never occurred to me that people might not be accepting when it came to magic. I’d naturally assumed that what I’d seen over the past few months was the norm? Had I been wrong? I shook the thought from my mind. There wasn’t time. It didn’t matter right now. The robe was already at the edge of the village.
Waiting.
I turned my head slowly, the swaying motions at the edge of the light catching my attention.
Oh boy, I gulped.
The thing hissed loudly at me.
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!” Doubt concurred.
I flipped back against the door, my confidence quickly waning. I 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 my t-shirt.
“But...there’s danger,” I pleaded.
Please don’t shut me out. Please listen to me. People are going to get hurt.
“Why won’t you listen to me?” I whimpered weakly. “The creatures are...the robes...” but it was no use. My 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.”
I lifted my head, my eyes fixed on the door. “What...did you say?”
“I said,” repeated the voice coolly, “You made your choice, boy!”
THA-THUMP-THUMP!
THA-THUMP-THUMP!
THA-THUMP-THUMP!
My 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 me to raise an arm and protect my eyes. A heavy rancid scent of decaying meat and molding rot rolled out from the doorway…assaulting my senses.
It made the world spin and my eyes water.
Slapping a hand over my mouth, I 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.
Spinning on my heels, I was unable to take even a step before razor claws raked across my back.
Blood sprayed from the gaping wounds.
I cried out into the darkness.
“Don’t do it…you’ll get us all in trouble!” Vin snapped. He reached out and grabbed Tabbermain’s wrist.
The gnome yanked his hand free and whipped his head about to face his friend. “Weren’t you listening? Noah already knows we helped him!”
“You helped him, not I,” Vin said sharply. “Don’t blame me for something you did.” He looked around him, wondering where the hidden cameras must be. Behind stone? Behind cobweb? “And you’re the one getting us into further trouble!”
With a deep sigh, Tabbermain’s face softened. “I’m sorry old friend. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that and it was very unkind.”
“Yes it was,” Vin pouted, folding his arms.
“Please forgive me.” Then softer, “The boy is in so much pain, can’t you help me? I don’t have the strength to do this alone. My talents are in metal and stone, not flesh and bone.” Tabbermain watched his friend huff and roll his eyes…yet Vin did not move from the straw he lay upon. “He could die if we do not lend him aid.” Poking Vin’s leg with a boney finger, “And you would be responsible for helping put the famed Gnolaum to death, plunging the hopes of the people into darkness.”
That got his attention. Vin popped up into a sitting position. “Oh no you don’t,” he grumbled, “You’re not gonna put that on my conscious!”
Tabbermain turned his head to hide the grin on his face, “A wise choice, as always.”
Vin grumbled again, realizing he’d been played. “Let’s get this over with. If we’re going to tick off the monk, we might as well do a thorough job of it.”
“That’s the spirit, you old coot!” shouted Doddle from the other side of the room.
“Oh shut up!” Vin snapped, but it only made Doddle laugh louder. “Can you reach him? My chain isn’t as long as yours...”
Tabbermain reached out for Wendell, fingers stretching for his heel. The hero lay prone across the alter, shuddering violently. The blood across his back still seeped from open wounds and every few minutes, the unconscious hero sobbed loudly.
Grunting and pulling at the chain on his own ankle, the gnome could barely touch the end of Wendell’s sneaker with a fingertip. “No,” he gasped, “he’s still too far away.”
“Here, let me try to pull him closer,” Vin said in a kinder tone.
“No,” retorted Doddle, “save your strength for the healing…you’ll have to help Tab. I’ll do it from here. I don’t have to touch the boy.”
Tabbermain and Vin nodded, scooting back into the straw.
Pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his wide nose, Doddle let his neck relax and his head fall forward, chin resting peacefully upon his chest. Raising his hands into the air, fingers spread wide, the gnome began reaching through the air...searching.
“Focus,” Tabbermain whispered, but it was more for his own benefit than to be heard, “you can do this.”
Doddle’s head tilted ever so slightly. His hips rocked forward until he was kneeling erect. Suddenly his hands stopped, fingers tense and curling inward, as if latching onto something which could not be seen.
“Push his legs out,” Vin whispered then, a smirk worming its way onto his face. “You’ve got it, Doddle. That’s it.”
Inch by painful inch, Wendell’s feet pushed out behind him. His torso lay upon the altar, with little pressure upon his legs…but he’d been kneeling for more than a day, hunched over the stone structure. His legs were stiff and numb, unwilling to so easily comply. Chains held his arms and wrists in place...but nothing bound the boy’s legs.
Doddle grunted then, his face flushing a beet red. His hands and arms trembled, muscle tight as he leaned ever forward, pushing at the invisible object.
“Almost there!” Tabbermain encouraged him.
Wendell’s knees scraped across stone, inch by inch, until, with a sudden jolt, his legs shot out behind his hips...and past the two gnomes.
“You did it!” Vin cried with glee. He grinned at Tabbermain, “The little fart actually did it!”
Doddle’s eyes rolled back into his head. Like a plank, he fell backwards into the straw. For long moments all that could be heard was his labored breathing. Wheezing and gulping, like air being forced through a straw.
“Doddle?” Vin called, “Are you alright?”
Tabbermain’s face grew pale, “Doddle! Speak to us!!”
Sitting up, the gnome adjusted his crooked glasses and blinked several times in rapid succession. “Woo,” he shook his head, “That was...,” he wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, “...intense.” Then looking over to his friends, he smiled brightly. “It worked?”
Tabbermain clapped his hands together, then rubbed them vigorously. “Perfectly.” Staring down at Wendell’s legs, he gave Vin a nod. “You ready?”
The grumpy gnome sat up on his knees and similarly clapped his hands together. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Faster and faster they rubbed their palms together. As they did, each gnome began to hum. Deep, from the base of their chests, in a single, carefully picked note. The notes added to one another. Clinging. Amplifying until the chamber was filled with a deep rumbling of power. Taking a sharp breath, they continued the perfect note...and their hands began to glow. The pink of their flesh sparkled, but not with light. Red spots appeared, like the reflective surface of a ruby, spreading across wrist and palm, working down to their fingers.
Reaching out, Tabbermain ceased the labor of friction and placed his palms under the lip of Wendell’s jeans, grasping his ankle. Vin, without a word, followed suit.
Wendell let out a gasp..his head wincing upward, only to thud back down onto the cold stone of the altar.
Both gnomes took another sharp breath and continued the solid note.
“That’s it!” giggled Doddle.
Color flooded back into Wendell’s body. The blue in his lips faded, his cheeks flushed. But that was not what the gnome stared at.
Across the hero’s back, the open wounds started to mend. Layers of torn flesh reached across the gashes, created by the arcane whip, and joined together. Tiny fibers, connecting to one another, until the wounds closed in full and pulled tight. Each slash left its mark across Wendell’s flesh…but within moments, his torso was completely healed. Even the mägoweave repaired itself, now free to do what it was enchanted to do. Gashes and tears mended themselves until at last, Wendell lay upon the altar whole.
Tabbermain and Vin ceased their chant. Their own blood now trickled down from their noses and they swayed. Tabbermain fell onto his back exhausted.
“Thank you,” he whispered aloud. “I could not have done that without you, Vin.”
“No,” Vin gasped, leaning heavily on his hands, “No you couldn’t have.”
I stirred. A faint moan escaped my lips.
Both Vin and Tabbermain moved back from my legs as I tried to right myself. Grabbing hold of the corners of the altar, I drowsily lifted my head.
“Where am...,” I moaned again, this time, much louder, “Oh.”
“How do you feel?” Doddle asked cheerfully.
Rolling my head from side to side, my neck popped several times. “Like I’ve been chopped into bits and glued back together.”
The gnome scrunched his face. “That doesn’t sound very good.”
“I wouldn’t recommend trying it.” Ok, forget the glue…I felt like I’d been stepped on by a giant. My head throbbed loudly, bass drums beat like thunder in my ears. I let my forehead rest on the stone. The tiny tink sound, accompanied by the prick of a pin along my brow, reminded me of the silver circlet still wrapped around my skull. I flexed the muscles of my back, rolling my shoulder muscles. The searing pain was gone.
Completely gone.
I looked at Tabbermain, who was sitting cross-legged and wiping the blood from his nose onto the sleeve of his dirty shirt. “Did you do this? Heal me?”
The gnome shrugged.
“We both did,” grumbled Vin, sniffing, “you’re welcome.”
I felt foolish, it taking so long for the comments to make sense in my head, but it was obvious now. These were mägo. The... “Are you...techno-mägo?” I asked, curious.
Tabbermain studied my face for a moment in silence before nodding.
Suddenly I didn’t feel so alone. “Thank you,” I added, forcing a grin across my weak face. “I’m very grateful.” I looked over at Vin, who sat there, glaring. “To both of you.”
Vin huffed, but he stopped glaring.
“I helped too!” squealed Doddle, not wanting to be left out of the conversation, “Though, I don’t really know healing magic.”
“Well I thank you anyway,” I grinned, “for your part.”
Doddle beamed.
The pain in my head had grown through the night. I was finding it much harder to focus on anything for very long. Even now, my eyes blurred and I could only see the gnomes’ faces if I blinked over and over, shaking the fuzziness from my head. It was like standing in a fog, wrapped around your face. You were aware of more, but you just couldn’t see but a few inches from your face. “You wouldn’t happen to have a way to get these shackles or this crown-thingy off my head, would you?” I asked hopefully.
Tabbermain shook his head. “I don’t know much about the artifact on your head...but those chains cannot be broken by magic. Of that I know for certain.”
So much for trying. “How do you know magic can’t get me out of the chains? Maybe the person who made them left a flaw in it?” It was reaching, but I was ready to grasp at anything at this point.
Again Tabbermain shook his head. “There are no flaws in the chains.”
“But how do you,” I started to say.
“Because we made them, boy!” snapped Vin, folding his arms in finality. “We were the ones who created the chains. Together, the three of us…and they’re made to withstand any magical force or coercion. They’re made to hold mägo fast...and over time to drain their ability to focus and perform the magic itself.” The gnome lifted his own leg into the air, the single chain dangling from his ankle. “So smart we were...to make our own prison.”
I slumped backwards, as far as the shackles would allow. Wonderful. “What about the thing on my head? Can you do anything about that?”
Tabbermain stared at the ring of silver and shook his head again. “We did not create it…though we know a fair amount about it.” Pointing at my head, “It’s meant to weaken your resistance to suggestion. The longer you wear it, the easier it will become for Noah to get whatever information he’s looking for.”
“But I don’t have anything to take,” I sighed, frustrated. “Why doesn’t he understand that? It won’t matter what questions he asks…he won’t get what he wants...because I don’t have any secrets to uncover! There’s nothing for me to lie about. I came here to mix among your people and to help unite the population. Once that was done, I was going to leave.”
The gnomes fell silent. Each glanced at one another, but the bulk of their attention remained focused on me.
“What about the seal you’re looking for?” Tabbermain asked. His eyes darted around the chamber, hoping to locate the hidden eyes and ears of Father Noah. The statement was so matter of fact and unemotional, my mouth popped open.
“Uhhhh,...what?”
Tabbermain frowned. “There are two deceptions here. One is, you are lying. You are looking for the seal...of the Demoni Vankil. You know it’s here, in Clockworks, and you still look for it. You cannot leave without it…I can see that plainly in your face. The second lie is not yours, but Noah’s.”
Now it was my turn to frown. “He would probably trust me more if he believed that I was actually the Gnolaum. I understand that everyone’s talking about me like some prophet or divine being…but I’m not. I admit that! But I can prove that I’m the host of the Ithari…I am, in fact, the Gnolaum. If he allowed me to get up, I could show him the gem in my chest. Easy as can be! I’d let him examine me, the gem, whatever he needed…so there would be no doubt in his mind that I am, in fact, the real article!”
“But that is the second lie, Mr. Dipmier,” Tabbermain said calmly, though he looked visually disturbed. “Not only does Noah have exactly what he needs to carry off his plans...he has always known that you are in fact, the Gnolaum.”
The words hit me in the chest like a sledgehammer. “B-but...that doesn’t make any...”
A look of pity crept across the gnome’s face.
“That’s why you are in here.”
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