Someone is always watching.

Wendell hadn’t been back to the warehouse in…he wasn’t sure how long it had been. With all the running, hiding and people wanting to harm or kill him, he felt undone. There was something about finally being out of danger. Like the pulling of a plug—releasing the tension and worry and stress all at once. He looked forward to seeing Chuck and…

He didn’t have it in him.

After all the challenges, Dax was still in the clutches of the government. Even worse, it wasn’t until now that he realized the danger he’d put his friend in. Mr. Upshot had warned Wendell about causing trouble among the gnome race.

Now the streets of this incredible city was burning.

Upshot is going to kill Dax, and it’s my fault. The thought nearly made his knees buckle.

“Are you alright?” Simon asked innocently.

Wendell nodded, but said nothing. The door to the warehouse was coming into view.

They slowed their pace as they stepped onto the sidewalk. Scorched and charred, the door to Morty’s warehouse was warped. It hung by a single hinge.

What…happened? Wendell’s heart jumped to his throat. Pushing the piece of metal out of the way, he barged into the building without saying a word.

No. No. NO!

Blackened walls and floors greeted him grimly as far as the light shined. The main hall extending back past the bedrooms, library and Morty’s workroom were shrouded in shadow. Insulation hanging down from the ceilings like wet spiderwebs, whispering tales to Wendell he didn’t want to hear. Trembling fingers slid along the walls, ending at the archway to the kitchen.

“What happened in here?” Tabbermain asked softly. “I…thought you said your friend worked here?” He scratched his head, confused. “Does seem a very safe environment.”

Wendell shuffled to the kitchen table, twisted, warped and yet covered in papers. Boxes lay scattered across the room. Chairs lay across the ground, mangled like giant metal spiders who withered in agony under a child’s flame. Even the couch was ruined, the fabric of the arms and cushions melted, revealing batting and metal springs.

It was all gone. No sign of his friends could be…

Tabbermain lifted one of the papers on the table, staring at the schematics.  He shifted the papers, his attention drawn to the sketches and notes displayed.

Sitting under the pile of papers was Morty’s black box.

“Whomever it is that worked here, is a genius.” Tabbermain handed a couple papers to Vin, who held them close to his face.

“Oh my,” he nodded, fingering through the information. “Clever. Very clever.”

Enid and Simon watched Wendell in silence as the hero moved around the table, staring at the contents upon it—but touching nothing. Like an animal circling food left out—unsure if it’s safe to eat. Without warning, Wendell pulled a slightly warped chair out and sat at one head of the table.

The old gnome prodded the child away. “Give Wendell a moment, Simon. Why don’t you go sit in that soft pile of papers over in the corner. Let me have a word with him, alright?”

Being used to living in far less than this abundance of resources, the child obediently complied.

Enid ignored the growing fascination of the mägo trio and pulled a chair closer to Wendell.

For long moments he stared up at the hero. Tabbermain and his friends continued to chatter in the background about mechanical theory, amplifiers and microbial fuel cells.

“Wendell,” Enid finally whispered. “What…happened here?Where are your friends?”

Wendell blinked, his vision locked on the black box.

It was the only sure sign that his friends had been here. The warehouse was destroyed…but he shut it out. Wendell didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know another thing. Another bad thing. It was too much. “I don’t know,” he blinked again, slowly turning to face Enid. “None of this was supposed to happen.” He choked. It became unusually hard to breathe.

“I don’t understand,” Enid said again softly, seeing his friends pain.

Wendell’s eyes glossed over and he grit his teeth. “I came here to make things better. That’s was I was supposed to do. Make…things…better. Find the last seal and lift everyone into the light.” he chuckled mockingly at himself.

“Seal?”

“The Demoni Vankil seal,” Wendell said firmly. “It’s what I’ve been looking for.”

The room fell silent.

Enid looked up to find the mägo staring back. Their eyes were fixed on Wendell.

“But that’s not what the prophecy says,” Tabbermain added evenly.

Wendell, as if someone had poured cold water over his head, snapped his head up. “What did you say?”

“That’s not what the gnome prophecy says,” Vin repeated.

No, that doesn’t make sens—what do they mean it’s not what it says?!. I’m…. He shook his head, “I’m supposed to be here. I’m supposed lead this people into the light.” He looked between them, “I have the..,” but he froze. The letter was gone, Noah had taken it from him.

“Not so,” Tabbermain said soberly. “The one who came to us as the Gnolaum would be our undoing, plunging us into the darkness.”

The words clawed at Wendell’s heart. “What?” That can’t be right. That’s not what the letter said. But the letter wasn’t meant for him. It was meant for someone else. The actual hero. NO! I’ve gone through all this—the choice has already been made and I’ve done all I knew how to do! He gripped the sides of the table, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. THIS CAN’T BE TRUE!

“There are very few who know our full prophecies,” Doddle said patiently, seeing Wendell’s open distress. “The Church takes our sacred writings and twists them, hiding them from the people,. They…prefer to use portions to further their own purposes.” He bowed his head, “TGII forgive them, but it’s true. When called upon, we techno-mägo, must have the truth before us to work our skills—especially when required to work with artifacts. That’s why we were chained up. We’ve studied the unaltered text. We know too much. Noah has been obsessed with you, Wendell, from the moment your S.L.A.G. was inappropriately named.”

The room started to spin and Wendell kept his grip on the table. No. This isn’t right. I can’t fail again. Not again.

“I can only speak for myself,”  Tabbermain started to say, “ but…”

“No!” Wendell snapped, his teeth still clenched. “Not another word.”

Enid placed a hand on his forearm, but Wendell shrugged it away.

“No,” he said again, softer. It was so hard to breathe. Friends gone. His only from of guidance taken from him…he shook his head. “I don’t know who this Gnolaum is.” Inhaling through his nose, Wendell relaxed his jaw. “I thought maybe it was me. But all I truly know, is, I’m Ithari’s host. Just kid from a far away land, who gave his word to help.” Looking across the room at Simon. The child’s crystal clear blue eyes reflected back. “To help those who can’t help themselves.”

THA-THUMP-THUMP!

His eyes rested again on the black box.

“And right now, that means I need to find my friends.” Reaching across the table, he pulled the ebony container to him.

SHKK-KKK-K-KKK-SHHK! it clattered, coming alive at his touch.

Pieces of the box started spinning, sliding and rotating. Where Wendell’s fingers had touched the surface of the box, glowing blue prints remained. The puzzle box shifted—expanding until at last, the top lid popped opening, hitting the table with a POK!

The gnomes gasped as a warm light filled the room.

****

The trail had continually eluded the historian and for one of the few times in his career, Höbin found himself stumped. The records he had obtained from both the guilds and the patent office were correct. Even his visit and wound from Mushcrank proved useful. But where was the connection?

He leaned over the desk, going through the lost of facts yet again. He’d forgotten how many times he’d reviewed them.

Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his one good eye and turned off his cybernetic link. No use running the battery down.

He could still hear Morty working furiously in the hidden room next to him. Every so often the tinkerer would let out a soft giggle, followed shorty after by the echo of Deloris.

He was close.

“Pshaw!” be huffed, tossing the pen onto the desk, “The Greatest Tinkerer…what a lie.”

He yawned.

Lie.

Höbin clamped his mouth shut. “That’s it!” he declared, “It’s…all a…” Pulling the record book to him, he looked at the submission dates for each of the inventions. The greatest inventions ever created among the gnome people. A sly grin crept across his furry face.

“Why you arrogant…,” his eye popped open wide to the truth, staring back at him. “Son of a…MORTY!” Jumping up, Höbin hobbled to the secret door and pounded on it. “Morty Teedlebaum—I know who the Greatest Tinkerer is!” He shook his fist full of note triumphantly in the air. “It’s…”

“NOT NOW!” screamed the gnome. “I’M SO CLOSE!!”

Like releasing the steam from a pressure cooker, Höbin’s shoulders slumped forward. “But…,” he tried again.

“NOT NOW!” Morty screamed again. “LATER!!”

“Sure,” Höbin sighed. “Later.”

Tossing the papers to the desk in irritation, he wandered out to the kitchen.

****

“Is that?” Tabbermain gasped as the other gnomes gathered around the open box.

Wendell nodded.

You FOUND me!

The child’s voice, the whisper of the Lanthya, filled Wendell’s being so strongly, it resonated in his ears. Glittering in its glory, the crystal sat atop a round disc, engraved with intricate and strange symbols.  Joining them together was what appeared to be a delicate web of silver. Thousands of strands, interconnecting and lovingly encasing both items, as one. The close proximity of the shard invigorated Wendell. The worry and fear he felt only moments ago, vanished. His mind expanded, his thoughts and path now clear before him. Exactly the same experience he had briefly back in Til-Thorin. This is amazing, he grinned, flexing the fingers of his hands. I feel so…strong.

Tabbermain stretched out his hand towards the seal, fingers trembling.

“NO!” Wendell snapped, slapping the small hand away. “Don’t touch it,” he said, this time softer, seeing the sudden fear in his friends face. “That is the only thing left keeping Mahan from this world!”

The gnome stepped back from the table, nodding silently as he clutched his hand to his chest.

“Wendell—is that you?” Höbin called from the hall.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “Höbin! Yes—yes, it’s me!” Wendell called back.

“I found it!” the historian laughed, hobbling into the kitchen. His face was bright with excitement, “I know who the…” he stopped short.

“It was Morty,” Wendell finished. Holding the seal up carefully, “He’s had the seal all this time.”

The historian laughed sadly, then shook his head, “Looks like all this research and running around to solve this puzzle was for nothing…”

Wendell frowned at him, “What happened to your face?”

“Whose face is a puzzle?” Chuck sighed, stumbling into the room. He had one of Dax’s arms over his shoulder, Lili had the other. The elf looked as if he were at deaths door.

“Chuck! Dax!” Wendell exclaimed, jumping from his chair. Clenching the seal tightly in one hand, he knelt down and hugged his friends eagerly. Lili smiled and took a couple steps back.

Until Wendell grabbed her wrist.

Pulling her in separately, he folded his arms around her and hugged her vigorously. “You can be mad at me later for this,” he whispered in her ear, “but for now, I’m so glad you’re safe!”

The wizard smirked, “Well…isn’t that nice.”

Lili lingered in the hug…then realizing, pushed away embarrassed.

“I see you found the seal?” Chuck said dully. He dragged Dax carefully over to what remained of the couch and set him down tenderly, resting his oversized head between two springs. “And brought home some friends I see?”

“Couldn’t have gotten back without them. Everyone in this room has saved my life at one point.” He pointed to each in turn. “That’s Enid. Over there is Simon,” he winked at the child perched in the mound of paper and garbage, “my little brother.” Simon grinned wide and gave a tiny wave. “That’s Tabbermain, Vin and Doddle.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Chuck said with a tip of his hat, “and nice to see this…” With a smooth motion, he lifted the seal out of Wendell’s grasp and shoved it up the sleeve of his robe.

“What do you think you’re…,” he started to complain, but Wendell was interrupted by the sound of a bullet being loaded into the chamber of a gun.

All eyes turned to the doorway, where a robbed figure smiled brightly and opened his arms wide.

“Glory be to TGII, for this bounty! Not only do I have the center of my desire—the Gnolaum himself, but all of those responsible for the destruction and terror afflicting this fair city!” Noah let his head fall back, in the expression of talking to some unseen being above him. “In one fell swoop, I shall rid this land of the disease that infects it.” And with the wave of a hand, armed Centurions flooded into the kitchen.

Wendell shot Simon a wide-eyed glance.

Without a word, the child sank deep within the mound of paper he’d found—quietly pulling sheets over his head and face.

Within moments, he did not exist.

“How did you find us, Noah?” Tabbermain asked, terrified and awestruck. “There’s no way you could have followed us or known where we were!?”

“Ah,” the monk laughed, “but there is a way. One which your negligent assassin overlooked.” From the sleeve of his robe, Noah produced the long, slim tracking device Buddy had shown Wendell when they first met. “I wouldn’t have known what this was, had I not recorded your entire conversation.”

The officers pushed and shoved the prisoners together, and placed Wendell in cuffs behind his back. They refused to touch the sick elf, however, and forced Chuck and Vin to carry him out.

“So where are we going?” Wendell finally asked aloud, though he already knew the answer.

Noah clapped his hands with joy. “To your deaths, of course!”