No matter how small the lie might be—all truth will eventually come to light.

“You want me to what?” Chuck stammered, choking on his own saliva.

“I want you to give Morty the Lanthya Shard.” Wendell examined his pilot suit in the mirror and zipped up his jacket. “The one you took from Til-Thorin. You have it, right?”

The wizard was flabbergasted, “Well, of course, but…”

“Then give it to him,” he repeated.

Dax was sitting on the corner of the desk, his legs hanging free as he puffed on his cigar. “Not sure that’s a good idea, kid.”

“Really?” Wendell grumbled, “…and why is that, hmm? This is Morty we’re talking about, who has done nothing but use his knowledge for the good of his people! If we should give one to anyone, it should be given to him.”

“Oh, I agree with ya there. I just don’t think we should give a shard to anybody, that’s all.” Hopping from the desk, “That’s too much power for any one person ta have.”

Wendell snorted, pointing at Chuck, “But HE has it! And aren’t you constantly going on about how his using magic is always a mistake?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Don’t you always complain about how dangerous he is when using magic?”

Dax gave a fleeting, embarrassed glance at the wizard, “Well, yeah…”

The wizard gasped, “Monkey!”

“So tell me,” Wendell dropped to a calm, even tone, “what has Morty ever done to hurt you, betray you or let you down?”

Chuck opened his mouth and raised index finger to rebuke, but he froze. Nothing came out. He looked to Dax, who could only shrug.

“I got nothin’.”

Sighing, “Oh alright, I’ll CONSIDER it,” the wizard grunted, “but that’s it! I’m not making any promises to hand over one of the most powerful forces in our world to a tinkerer. Now, you boys get out there—a wizards promise is his bond—and you two have a competition to win.”

Wendell beamed, “Thank you Chuck.”

The wizard threw his beard over his shoulder and flung the library door open. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

****

As the transport rolled into the garage, Alhannah grabbed her fathers arm and held him back.

Shamas escorted Wendell and Dax to the elevator and stood guard as the others followed behind. Morty and Deloris were dressed in their finest—the tinkerer in his brown church suit, while she wore an evening tea length dress, which looked like delicate flower petals sown together. Chuck strutted along, sporting a tuxedo and top hat, while spinning a mini dragon-head cane in his hand. His huge beard was braided and clamped with steel links in a popular Kutollum-yet-manly style to keep it off the ground. Lili walked nervously beside him, gripping the wizards arm firmly. Her yellow ‘A’ line, one shoulder gown emphasized the copper skin of her arms and shoulders—while her hair was braided to resemble an elegant crown. Soft stray curls bounced against her cheeks and bare neck.

“Dad, are you sure you want to do this?” Alhannah fussed. She gripped his hands in hers, biting her bottom lip. “If they find you here, they won’t banish you this time. They could…” but she stopped. She knew that the government could be cruel to those they hated. “It’s not worth it.”

Höbin cuddled his daughters face with the flesh of his right hand and smiled. “My sweet, little girl—I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You’re making history tonight and by TGII, I’m here! There’s no way I’m going to miss this event.” He tapped her perfect porcelain nose, “Besides,” he tapped his chest lightly with his fingers, “I have a backup plan if it gets too sticky.”

“Red,” Shamas called from the elevator, “time to go.”

“Good luck, sweetie,” Höbin whispered, kissing her on the cheek. “Rip their heads off.”

****

The camera crew sat poised and ready to tape the event of their career. Nodding to the hired talent, the producer counted down. “Live in four…three…,” she held her fingers high…two…one, then pointed at the announcers.

Zooming across the stadium, the cameras focused on the cheering fans. “Welcome ladies and gentlegnomes, for the historic finals of W.E.T., INC.s Trench Wars, season four! Two million screaming fans have taken their seats in the largest stadium of Clockworks City. This epic arena is more than five times its predecessor, and overhead, a crystal dome welcomes the open sky.” Cutting to the studio floor, the camera pulls back to show the two grinning announcers. “I’m Dusty Beckworth,…and here with me is my ever-cool co-host, Pip Flocker.”

“Thanks Dusty, and may I say this has GOT to be the event of the century! Not only is this a record crowd at a record event, tonight is making television history on WHRN. Jumbo screens hang from all four sides of this stadium, so fans can partake of the action from every angle—while pay-per-viewers at home have topped one billion!”

“You don’t say, Pip!”

“I do Dusty, I do!

The camera zooms in on Dusty, a small photograph of a well-groomed gnome with a wire mustache and beard, dressed in a hooded robe beside him. “Well it’s no wonder when tonights rumble has attracted representatives from the Temple of TGII. Father Noah, a well known religious leader and steward of the Great Temple of Nothing, was assigned by the Arch Bishop himself, to be here. He spoke to us tonight, about The Trinity…and about letting both the Gnolaum and Banshee compete tonight. He had this to say…”

The photo of Noah expanded out, filling the screen and then animated to a video clip.

“Though we are here to be pillars of the community and to fight for the faith, we cannot idly stand by or condone injustices, even within a friendly competition such as Trench Wars. Though the Church knows Armored Ensemble was, indeed, the recognized winner of the previous match, we felt it only just to extend this match to Steel and Stone.” The camera crept in closer, catching a wry smile on Noah’s face, “Tonight will allow Mr. Dipmier to participate, when he had been cheated…and grant grace to Banshee, when she had failed. But most importantly of all, tonight will provide Armored Ensemble the opportunity to show the magnificent citizens of Clockworks who the real champion is!” The camera freezes on Noah’s face—looking more like a snarl than a smile.

Pip shutters, “Well that was a canned speech if I ever heard one! Luckily there were some fighting words shouted from the Steel and Stone camp. We talked to the head programmer for the team, Mr. Nathan Taylor.” An image of Nat rolled across the screen and then animated.

“Y-you caught me off guard,” he stuttered, blinking wildly.

Nibbled, covered in grease, leaned over to squeeze his hand, then waved into the camera. “Hi mom!”

“Tell ‘em we’re gonna kick the butt-grease outta those S.L.A.G.s!” hollered Tumbler from behind the camera.

“Uh,” Nat grinned awkwardly, “we’re grateful for this opportunity we’ve been given to…” he frowned, “to…”

“To bury ‘em!” Tumbler laughed. The camera picked up scuffling sounds and then heavy breathing. “GIT yer hands offa me! I don’t care what station you’re from, I will brain you, punk!” Hacking noise, then the sound of spitting. “Like that? TELLY—THROW ME MY WRENCH!”

Nat cringed, then raised his hand to cover the lens of the camera. “Guys,” he whispered, “please!”

Laughter and then the camera gets knocked to the ground, landing on its side. The view shows the bottom of Nat’s wheelchair.

“Trinity don’t have a prayer!” Tumbler shouts. There’s a pause. Then a snort. “HAH! Trinity…church…prayer!” Another snort, “TELLY, I MADE A JOKE!”

In a low tone, you can hear Nat whimper, “You’ll edit that, right?”

The screen goes blank.

Both Dusty and Pip are laughing to tears as the studio camera zooms in on them.

“You got to love honest gnomes, don’t you Pip?”

“As long as they want your autograph, Dusty!”

They laugh again.

Running his fingers through his golden hair, Dusty grins unnaturally at the camera, “Well the pilots are all on the lifts and ready to rumble, so let’s take a look at this years stats, as they make their way up to the arena.”

“…and that makes three. You’re all good to go.” Nat tapped the HD screen in front of him. The new control center was more impressive than he thought it would be—which made him grateful he’d spent extra time setting up his programs and strategy. “How we doing, Cryo?”

“The corporate programmers have yet to fill all the holes in their system, Nathan.” The blue face looked up form the disc on the desk, “There are security leaks that we can most assuredly take advantage of.”

The gnome smiled, “That’s what I want to hear.” He nodded to Freak, “You’re up.”

“Ok—remember what I showed you,” the fat mechanic chimed. “We’ve tweaked your systems and localized some of your functions. Turnpikes arms and legs function independently for more speed and agility, but you won’t notice a real difference until you find yourself in trouble. We also reinforced all your head plates and tested them.”

Dax raised an eyebrow, “Yeah? How’d they do?”

Laughing, Tumbler yelled into Freaks mic, “Deflected one of Alpha’s bullets, that’s how it did! My blasts arms are cramped from all the welding!!”

The elf chuckled, “Nice.”

“You messed with my cushioning,” Alhannah moaned, “How am I supposed to fight if I can’t move about?”

“Orders from Wheels,” Freak answered and Nathan glared up at him. “You could have suffered a lot worse than a concussion last time, Red—so take it as a sign that we care…and we want you to finish the match.”

Grumbling, and the faint hint of cursing, crackled over the speakers.

The lifts under each of the S.L.A.G.s started moving.

“Here we go, ladies and gentlegnomes,” smiled Wendell. “Let’s make it fast, furious and completely overwhelming.”

Dax laughed deeply over the com-link. “Look who’s become the fighting animal, eh ‘Hannah?”

She beamed. “Nice to have another in the family.”

“As we all know, Dusty, there have been some serious blows already thrown between these two teams. There’s likely to be some grudges fueling the flames of battle tonight.”

Pairs of pictures popped up next to Dusty’s facial shot. “If I were to guess the one to watch tonight, it would have to be Turnpike. Both Beatdown and Hook will be wanting blood and oil after being humiliated by the fast paced acrobatic superstar.”

The arena music saturated the air, its techno beat and underscore of screaming fans greeting each pilot as the S.L.A.G.s lifted up into the spotlights.

Wendell stared at his monitor…and gulped. This place is HUGE! Unlike the previous arena he’d adjusted to, both by fighting and watching live footage, there was nothing to hinder a pilot. The floors were spotless, an endless grid of unknown peril, while the dome above rose to high above them, aerial combat would be a snap. The vastness of it all was almost overwhelming.

“Heads up, boys,” Alhannah said cooly.

Opposite Steel and Stone, lining the far wall of the stadium stood The Trinity. Beatdown, Armored Ensemble and Hook all stood boldly, like frozen statues.

“You seeing what I’m seeing?” Dax piped up. “Is it just me, or does somebody look like they got more than a makeover?”

Wendell zoomed his cameras in on his opponents. Woah. “Looks like someone got a serious upgrade.” All three S.L.A.G.s looked like they’d been pulled from a production line. Metal gleamed in the spotlight and weapons flashed in hands. There was not a single scorch mark or dent on the machines staring back. The red eyes under Hooks cloaked looked brighter and more menacing than ever.

Wendell gulped again. Stop it. You’re a pro—so don’t start acting like a stupid kid! But he felt like a kid. Standing there, facing not only an aggressive team—but under the hungry view of the entire gnome race. It’s all come down to this fight. His fingers rested against the center of his chest. Are you ready?

A warm feeling tingled down his spine, from the base of his neck to the top of his hips. All doubt fled from his mind…and he exhaled. Then let’s do this.

“And there’s the buzzer Pip—and OH MY GOODNESS, someone’s out for revenge! All six pilots put out from the wall, but Beatdown looks more like a wild cat than anything else. Racing across the floor on all fours, Booker is pushing it tonight!”

“Turnpike’s no slouch either, Dusty—look at that S.L.A.G. hauling bolts. It may not match the Trinity machine in speed, but we’re about to see how it matches in prowess.”

The cameras switch to a shot of both S.L.A.G.s lunging and colliding in the air. Turnpike is knocked backwards with a heavy blow to the chest.

“UNGH!” grunted Dax, throwing his hands up and back. The motion caused Turnpike to roll up and over a shoulder, instantly getting to its feet. “I ain’t that easy, punk!” Sliding a hand through the spiked knuckles hinged at its hip, Dax threw a haymaker punch as Beatdown jumped to its feet.

“OH!” cried Dusty, flinching dramatically, “Now that’s what you call a punch! What a perfect blow to the head—sending Beatdown sliding towards the far wall.”

Pip tapped the desk with his knuckles. “Don’t forget the main event, Dusty, because here comes the clash of the night! The Gnolaum versus Armored Ensemble…and it looks like both sides want to leave these two alone to duke it out…”

“Be careful, Wendell—Panicswitch is the most skilled sword fighter in the league!” Alhannah lifted her leg and Banshee sidestepped Hooks scythe. Spinning to the outside, she gouged the grim reapers chest armor with the hilt of her own blade.

“Besides you, right?” Wendell laughed, deflecting a downward blow with Gnolaum’s shield.

“Of course.”

Pip stood up and practically bounced onto the desk. “Look at that! Look at that! Beatdown is going down in record time!!” The overhead screens in the stadium displayed Turnpike punching its opponent repeatedly in the face. As the S.L.A.G. raised its forearms as shields, long spiked popped out from the knuckles. Each blow either punctured holes or snapped the pikes clean off the weapon.

“Oh HO—looks like the wrestling match caught the attention of the reaper, Pip.” The camera shifted to show Hook throwing its cape into Banshee’s face. With a swipe of the sword, the cape was pushed aside…only to be shot with a cable.

“What the…?!” Alhannah growled. Banshee’s arms were instantly bound tight against its chest, sword pinned against its shoulder.

Hook pointed its fist at the bound S.L.A.G..

“ARRRGGGHHH!” she screamed.

“What’s wrong?” cried Wendell, parrying a blow.

“She’s being electrocuted…” Dax roared. “They’ve got new tricks of their own!” Slipping out the second knuckle, he jerked Turnpike around. “I’ll help her, kid, stay on…”

A mace knocked Turnpikes legs out from under it, sending the S.L.A.G. crashing to the ground.

“Dax!” Wendell cried, but try as he might, he could not land a serious blow against Armored Ensemble, or disengage from the fight. Swing after swing, the veteran pilot matched the strategies Wendell had used through the previous matches.

“Concentrate on your fight,” Nat barked into the mic, “I’ve got control of the Trench, Wendell. Helps on the way.”

Dax checked his screen. Banshee was down…and had stopped struggling. “‘Hannah?” he called into the mic. No response. “Alhannah!” He split the screen between his main and shoulder camera’s…and immediately threw his body to the side. Responding instantly, Turnpike rolled onto its back as the scythe glanced off the floor. “Woopah!” he grunted, “These guys are awfully fast tonight.”

“Mace, to your right,” Nat called out.

Turnpike rolled again, snatching up Beatdown’s oversized wrecking ball as it rocked back up to its feet.

“Take this,” Nat whispered.

The floor plates under Beatdown collapsed. One by one, they gave way to a yellow liquid, slowly sinking until the flooring vanished altogether. It didn’t bubble or give off steam or smoke, but the S.L.A.G. fought and struggled to get up, nonetheless.

“I only got one shot,” Dax growled. “I’m taking it.”

With and overhand motion, Turnpike threw the mace…at Beatdown.

The blow nailed the S.L.A.G. square in the chest, knocking it backwards into the yellow liquid. Upon contact, the machines movements slowed down until it stopped altogether.

“What the crap is that stuff?” Dax asked, taken aback at his frozen opponent.

Nat smirked, “Industrial glue…Trench style.” He clicked rapidly on the keyboard. “Cryo, initiate the witty hackers electronic evasion locking system. Make sure Trinity doesn’t get control of the arena. That’s our focus.”

“Initiating W.H.E.E.L.S. now.”

“You created a program called W.H.E.E.L.S.?” Wendell laughed between grunts, “I thought you hated that nickname?”

The programmer shrugged, “What can I say? It stuck.”

“Well I’m gonna stick it to this piece of…,” Dax barked, spinning again to avoid Hooks scythe. The blade arched away from him just long enough for Turnpike to lunge and grab hold of the  reapers cape. “Gotcha!” he laughed.

It immediately detached.

Releasing into Turnpikes grip, the motors used to reorient Hook on flying S.L.A.G.s kicked on, spinning the torso around 360 degrees.

Hooks scythe severed both of Turnpikes legs. Sparks fanned out as the limbs slid across the floor and the heavy torso collapsed.

“UNBELIEVABLE!” screamed Pip, reeling back in his chair. “That blow has completely crippled Trench Wars favorite acrobat, Dusty—and it looks like Hook isn’t done yet!” The cameras zoomed in on each blow as the blade stabbed into Turnpikes chest over and over again as the crowd went wild. “What a turn of events!” he blurted out, adrenalized by the footage. “If only we could here what the pilots are saying live…”

“GET THIS PSYCHO OFF!” Dax screamed. Each blow tossed him about the cockpit. The first, which had penetrated the shell of Turnpikes chest, had severed the bolts just above Dax’s head. “HE’S GONNA KILL ME!!”

Sweat poured down Wendell’s face, making it hard to see. “Hold on Dax—I’m coming!!” This guys skill is unbelievable—I can’t make a solid hit with anything I do! But Armored Ensemble was also equally matched. The two S.L.A.G.s danced and parried, weapons glanced off shields and countered every punch and kick.

Pushing Gnolaum back against the arena wall, Armored Ensemble locked shields. Wendell panicked.

“Nat, can you do anything for Dax? I’m trapped here and can’t get to him!”

“I’ve locked everything up, Wendell. There’s nothing I can…”

“I gotcha, uncle Dax,” Alhannah whispered. Her voice was weak. Shaking. Banshee’s blade pushed outward as it turned red, heating up. “Hope this new toy works, Freak,” she coughed, “cause I’m gonna gut that piece of garbage.” The hum of the blade grew louder as it vibrated.

The cables binding Banshee snapped. Staggering to its feet, Alhannah grabbed one of Turnpikes severed legs and hurled it. The limb spun in midair, striking Hooks forearm in mid-swing. The scythe fell from the S.L.A.G.s hand and clattered to the ground.

“Now I’m gonna…” she coughed as she laughed, “how did Tumbler put it?”

The old welder yelled into Freaks mic, “Kick the butt-grease outta him!”

She grinned like a hungry wolf and sprinted forward. “Exactly.”

Wendell pulled and pushed, trying every combination he could think of, but his shield was locked tight. I’m out of ideas, he gasped. How can I… Red lights flashed on his dashboard.

The shoulder plate of Armored Ensemble popped open. Pushing forward, the larger S.L.A.G. dropped its weight down on Gnolaum’s shield, forcing Wendell to lower his own guard. From the opening, crawled out tiny metal creatures.

Dusty frowned at the screen. “Now this is new, Pip. Are those…pets?” The camera zoomed in on the eight legged creature that looked like a…

“I think it’s a tick,” Pip cringed. “Ew, ew and triple EWWW! I don’t know what that thing can do, but I can’ imagine it’s going to be pleasant.”

Placing a finger to his ear piece, Dusty nods, “I’m being told that the official rules DO allow pilots to have robotic assistance, so long at there are not more than four such devices, they do not weigh more than fifty pounds each and they cannot make decisions independently of the pilot. In other words, Pip, all pets must be remote controlled.”

The ticks quickly crawled over the shields and onto Gnolaum’s plating.

“What are those things?” Wendell grunted, hitting the red panic button. Spikes shot out both forearms and with a wrenching motion, he forced Gnolaum sink even further and turn at the hips. The move exposed Ensembles midsection. Wendell grinned. Gotcha!

He threw the controls forward…but nothing happened.

“Wendell?” Nat tapped his mic. “Wendell, you there?”

“What happened?” Dax coughed, pulling himself back into the pilots chair. His arm hung limp at his side.

“He’s completely lost power!”

The lights on Gnolaum’s dashboard flickered and dimmed. Oh crap! His heart raced as his S.L.A.G. fell backwards. Hitting the wall, Gnolaum slid down the surface and flat onto its back. Without power, there was no control of the limbs. One hand was locked around he hilt of the sword, while Gnolaum’s other let go of the shield. The re-enforced door flipped across the arena with a clatter.

“What a turn of events!” both Dusty and Pip shouted in stereo.

“It looks like Father Noah is a prophet after all,” remarked Pip grimly, “because the favored pilot tonight isn’t Wendell Dipmier.” He shook his head, his face contorted in disappointment. “There goes MY paycheck!”

Dusty bounced in his chair, “Well don’t count Steel and Stone out just yet! Looks like we have yet another screamin’ surprise in Banshee!”

The camera’s view flashed to Alhannah pressing the advantage as she caught her breathe. Hook was forced to keep its distance from Banshee, who was swinging wildly with a white hot blade. Around and around in circles they shuffled—getting closer and closer to the scythe, prone on the ground.

That is…until two large hands reached out and grabbed Hooks ankles.

“You have GOT to admit,” bellowed Dusty, “you could not have seen that coming! Turnpike is limping along but still functional enough to cause a distraction and…”

Both announcers flinch as Hooks head rolls across the arena.

Wendell struggled against his straps. It was pitch black. Stupid creatures drained Gnolaum’s power! “Välo,” he whispered. The cockpit flooded with a dim light. Unhooking his harness, he stood up in his chair and pulled off the panels of the control panel. But I’m not out of this yet.

Wires of all shapes and sizes fell back into his face as he yanked the panel free. Tossing it to the side, he tried to focus on as many of the wires as his peripheral vision could take in.

“Mäjäkä!”

The light shifted, concentrating within his field of vision, like a giant spotlight, shining wherever he looked. Wendell laughed, almost hysterically. “This is so COOL!” he yelled. Now for the hard part.

High above the crowds, surrounded by lavish decorations and delicious delicacies, Höbin was pacing.

“You’re going to wear out the carpet,” warned Morty, exasperated, but Deloris jabbed him in the shoulder. “What?” snorted the tinkerer, he’s making me nervous!”

“Why couldn’t they have wired the com-links up here?”

Chuck patted the chair next to him. “Sit down, Höbin. Even if you could talk to her—it would only be a distraction and you couldn’t help anyway. This is, after all, Trench Wars…and she knew what she was getting into.”

The historian snapped his head up and glared at the wizard so fiercely, Chuck flinched.

“I’m just saying…”

“She’s the best fighter in the games,” chimed Deloris, “and look—she’s still holding her ground!”

Far below, beyond the cheering fans, Banshee held the burning sword aloft. It was no longer white with heat, but it still severed chuck after chunk from Armored Ensembles shield. The first blow had severed the knights own sword in half, leaving its shield as the only weapon…unless another could be found. So the dance continued—Ensemble avoiding Turnpikes possible grip, while Banshee stayed in front of Hooks scythe.

…but Alhannah was fading fast. Sweat burned her eyes and each powerful cough caused the S.L.A.G. surrounding her to jerk and sway. She fought to stay conscious. “It’s you and me, you puke,” she cursed between fits.

“Fre—,” crackled the com-link.

At first she thought she was hearing things, the sheer exhaustion playing with her mind, but it sounded again…clearer this time.

“Freak…come in.”

“Wendell?” she heaved, trying to breathe through the pains in her chest. “You guys…getting this?” Making another hand motions, Banshee slashed at Armored Ensemble. “Wendell!”

“I’m ok,” he answered through the static. “What do the main power…” he faded.

“Repeat that Wendell, you’re breaking up.” Freak paced behind Nat, watching an aerial shot of Gnolaum’s prone body. “Main power what?”

“Cables,” Wendell said, his voice clearer and stronger. “Where are the main power cables!?”

The mechanic frowned at the screen. “Cables? Why would you…”

“Tell him where the cables are!” Alhannah snapped. The volume sent her into a coughing fit and Banshee stumbled back, dropping its guard.

That’s all Armored Ensemble needed. Sidestepping the glowing weapon, the heavy shield slammed across Banshees forearms, sending the sword sliding across the floor. Blow after blow the shield, now a pummeling weapon, rose high and fell against Alhannah’s S.L.A.G..

“ARGH!” she cried, rattling about wildly with each blow.

With a final wrench, Armored Ensemble tore Banshees head free and heel-kicked the machine onto its back.

“Alhannah!” Nat cried, “Red, are you ok?” There was no answer.

Instead he and the TNT crew watched the victor pick up the heated sword and slowly walk across the arena…to hover over Gnolaum.

For several minutes the giant knight stood there, observing the mortal enemy which now lay prone and helpless. The cheering of the crowd overhead died to a numbing reverberation. Ensembles shield slid from its hand, clattering loudly throughout the arena. Still glowing red, the sword rose into the air—its tip aimed at Gnolaum’s chest plate.

But the blow never fell.

Thrusting upward, the possum stabbed its own thick sword through the abdomen portion of Ensembles torso. Electricity crackled around Gnolaum’s blade, fusing it to the shell of its victim. The mighty knight shook violently until it dropped the glowing blade and collapsed in a smoldering heap.

The buzzed sounded. Game over.

“I have to say, Pip, that this has been the greatest Trench Wars fight I have ever seen! Who would have guessed such an amazing comeback by Steel and Stone!?”

“Could not agree with you more, Dusty—and I could not be happier!” He pulled a ticket form his pocket and waved it at the camera, “I’ll have an extra drink, just for you, Noah…but to celebrate the winning team, it says here that the Brothers Trench planned a special surprise!”

“What could that possibly be, Pip?” Dusty asks in mock eagerness.

“Why, a pyrotechnics salute, of course!”

Like a muffled echo of thunder, the walls of the stadium rumbled. Overhead, the dome rooftop retracted.

“What in TGII’s name is going on,” choked Morty nervously. He clenched Deloris’s hand tightly, and behind him Lili clung to the back of the gnomes chair. “Feels like a quake!”

Chuck stared up at the growing growing exposure to the sky, blood draining from his face. “No, no, no, no, no!” His tuxedo faded back into a robe, top hat growing a point, as he spun in his seat and grabbed Höbin with both fists. Jerking the historian to his feet, the wizard cried, “Get down there and get them out! Use your port key and take them back to the Black Market!”

“What’s the mat-…” Höbin asked, but he was pulled to his feet.

Face stern, Chucks eyes quickly turned moist. “They will kill her if they catch her,” he choked out in a whisper. He blinked the moisture from his eyes and tightened the grip on the gnomes collar. “Do whatever you have to do. Don’t stop for anything.”

Höbin bolted. Shoving past the servers, he vanished out the door.

Morty’s face went pale, his own hands shaking now. “W-what’s going on Chuck? P-please tell me why you’re s-so nervous?” He looked out over the arena. The fans were jumping up and down in their seats. The night was a success and Wendell had won, just like they’d hopped for.

The wizard nodded towards the door, “Deloris, get everyone out.” He yanked his hat from his head.

She grinned while shoving the servants through the door. “Thank you SO much!” she blurted, slamming it behind them and locking it. With a click, she turned off the speakers, plunging the booth into silence. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe,” she repeated, inhaling deeply herself as a visual. “Just take deep…oh—Lili, dear, it will be alright. Stay calm.”

Seeing the wizard panic and having nowhere to run, Lili backed herself into a corner. Sliding down the wall to a seating position, she silently pulled the train of her dress around her like a small blanket.

Chuck shoved his arm deeper and deeper into his hat. “Mahan’s Pink Panties,” he grunted, “where are they?!” The sounds of glass breaking and something metallic falling against a hard surface echoed through the cloth opening. The scowl instantly transformed to a grin of triumph as Chuck yanked his arm free. “Got it!” he cried. In his hand was a giant keychain containing hundreds of odd looking keys.

Morty stepped in front of the wizard and firmly planted his feet. He grabbed the gigantic beard and gave it a painful yank.

“CHUCK!”

The gnomes shoulders bobbed up and down as he wheezed, his face so flushed his nose looked like a beet. There were beads of sweat starting to drip down his forehead. His whole frame was shaking. Morty’s free hand hung at his side, clenched tightly in a fist. For several moments, it looked like he might strike his friend.

He didn’t. The anger melted away to complete and total…fear.

“Please, Chuck,” he choked, trying not to lose complete control of himself, “w-what’s going to happen to us?” He blinked several times before wiping the sweat from his eyes.

The soft hum of the air conditioner blew cool air into the room. It carried the sweet scent of roses from the potpourri bowl, while the stadium continued to celebrate the greatest victory in Trench Wars history in utter silence.

Old, yet gentle hands gripped the tinkerers own, pulling the white beard free from its grasp.

“Morty Thadius Teedlebaum,” Chuck whispered calmly, placing both hands on the gnomes’s shoulder, “I have placed you in many compromising situations over the years. I know that. But will you tell me when I have ever broken my word when I given it?”

Morty could hear his own heartbeat, struggling to pound through his chest. Knowing the answer as well as his own name, he choked back his fear. “Not once.”

The wizard, known among all the races as Morphiophelius, then smiled as only he knew how. It was one of comfort. One that let the beholder know that though the world may be crashing down around you, everything would be just fine. You didn’t know how…but you knew it would.

“No harm will come to you or your young sweetheart,” he whispered. Then, like a grandfather talking to a tiny child, gnarled fingers cupped the tinkerers cheek tenderly. “I promise.”

Morty exhaled.

Deloris giggled softly, giving Lili a tiny squeeze around the shoulders as she held the girl tightly. “He called me young.”

Chuck walked quickly to the main door and jiggled the knob. Frowning, he put his ear to the metal and started tapping, the rim of his hat scrunched against his scalp.

“I don’t understand, then,” Morty continued.

Tap-tap-tap…tap-tap-tap.

“Why did Höbin run out like that?” He looked over at Deloris, but she could only shrug.

Tap-tap-tap…tap-tap-tap.

Frowning, Chuck shuffled over to the bathroom door and pulled it closed.

Tap-tap-ting!

The wizard kissed the flat surface. “That’s a girl,” he whispered, and started sifting through the keys.

The tinkerer shifted nervously from foot to foot. “Chuck, what’s going to happen to Alhannah, Dax and Wendell?”

One by one, keys were shoved into the door lock, the others in line rattling on the keychain. “Höbin’s on his way to get them.”

“What if he’s too late?”

The rattling stopped. “I don’t know.”

Deloris grunted, “Are you just going to leave them?”

“Oh my goodness!” the wizard bellowed, throwing his head back so hard, his hat nearly flipped off his head. “I’m so stupid.” Spinning the keyring on his fingers, he tossed them up into the air and opened one of his sleeves. The collection tumbled back down and vanished into the robe. Without hesitating, Chuck pulled back his collar and lifted a small silver chain which hung around his neck. On the end was a tiny golden key.

Leaning forward, he inserted it into the door and turned.

CLICK!

“Bingo,” he trilled. Turning the knob, Chuck opened the door and light flooded into the booth. With a snap of his fingers, his staff appeared and jumped into his hand. Walking over to Lili, he held out his hand, “I do apologize, but you’ll need to watch your step inside. It’s been ages since I’ve had time to clean up, if you know what I mean. Don’t want anyone to fall and hurt themselves.”

Over the stadium lightening flashed, thunder following in its wake. As if to answer the call of the wild, giant fireworks shot up from around the base of the arena. More than two dozen rockets rose up, up, up through the stadium roofline and into the sky. White specks with glittering tails sailing overhead. With an explosion that rivaled the natural thunder, bright red and blue flames burst outward, filling up and sky.

Chuck gulped, “Time to go.”

Morty’s face contorted and he tugged on the wizards robe, still confused. “Why won’t you tell us what’s got you so worked up?”

Smiling weakly, “I suddenly remembered why I’ve been experiencing this nagging feeling for weeks on end.” He watched the fireworks show continue, flashes of color reflecting in his clear eyes. “I was wrong.”

Deloris got to her feet, “Wrong about what?”

Sheepishly, “I’m not a genius at making charms. I just bought a lot of them over the years. Addicted to them, actually. Picked them up all the time from old man Lampkowski.” He smiled, “Funny old guy. I used to hang out at his shop  when I was younger and…”

“Chuck!” Morty snapped.

“Oh ALRIGHT,” he huffed. Then softer, “I just remembered the counter charm.”

****

The fireworks show continued as the arena shifted. Floor panels pulled back to reveal a podium, which rose into the air. On either side were a set of stairs.

Gnome sized stairs.

“I guess this means we’re walking,” Wendell moaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” grunted Alhannah through the speaker, “they like to do the ceremony while the fans are still roaring in their seats.”

Dax growled, “Can I get some help over here? My doors busted.”

Banshee’s cockpit door popped off the hinges. “Don’t look at me,” Alhannah coughed.

“Are you alright?”

There was a pause, then a wetter cough. “I’ll be fine, Wendell. Just get uncle Dax and meet me at the stairs. Let’s make this moment count.” Another pause, “You remember your speech?”

“All too well.”

Gnoalum knelt down and tore the pilot hatch from Turnpike’s chest. Kneeling to the ground, Wendell popped his own hatch open and climbed out.

Dax crawled from the smoldering heap of machinery, pulling a small med kit behind him. His face and head were covered in blood, a deep gash open across his forehead. Flopping onto Turnpikes arm, he let his legs and left arm dangle free.

“Oh boy,” Wendell gasped as he got closer, “you really look bad.” Taking the sterile bandages from the kit, he placed a patch over the open wound, “Put pressure on this.”

The elf sighed as Wendell wrapped the wound with a fresh bandage. “Sure is different, standing down here all naked in the flesh. That’s a lot ‘o gnomes.”

The both laughed.

Wendell created a makeshift sling with a torn piece of Dax’s shirt. “You know,” tightening the knock around the elf’s neck, “these guys probably won’t be able to get out of their S.L.A.G.s until someone cuts them out.”

Team Trinity lay scattered and prone across the arena.

“Eh,” Dax smirked, “Let ‘em sit in time out for a while.”

They laughed again as they walked to the podium stairs.

Leaning against the railing, Alhannah coughed loudly. With each convulsion, her shoulders hunched forward, white knuckles gripping the stone for balance. There was a pool of blood at her feet.

“Hannah!” cried Dax, running to her side. Wrapping his good arm around her, he lifted her up by the shoulders.

“I’m…alright,” she choked, gasping for air. Other than a few dark bruises on her cheek and forehead, there were no deep wounds they could see. The bandana wrapped around her scalp was drenched, but only with sweat. When she lifted her head, however, Wendell flinched.

The dark rings had returned. Her clear eyes now looked murky—red veins peeking out from the corners of the sockets. Her complexion had also faded. Her skin looked nearly transparent, purple veins struggling to pump blood through her body. Blood gushed from her nose and the corners of her mouth.

“You did it, kiddo,” she smiled weakly. “Let’s go claim the prize.” Her lung crackled loudly as she spoke.

“No,” Wendell said firmly, “we need to get you to a doctor. To your dad and Chuck, so you can rest. But Alhannah reached out a frail hand and pulled him closer.

“You’ll never get another chance like this.” She managed a scary looking smile, “Gnolaum.” Then gasping, “You are about to address the whole gnome population,” her grip tightened, “so don’t blow it.” She released her grip and tugged on Dax’s sling. “Help me up there.”

Taking a firm hold of her around the waist, the elf shot Wendell a sympathetic glance…and started climbing the stairs.

“AND HERE THEY ARE, LADIES AND GENTLEGNOMES!” boomed the stadium speakers. On the giant overhead screens, Dusty Beckworth and Pip Flocker rose from the center of the platform to greet the trio. Dusty waved at the cheering crowd as Pip stepped forward.

“Though the win goes to you all as a team match, who do you think should really be crowned Grand Champion of season four?” Pip held out the mic, sticking it between Dax and Alhannah first.

With a bloody hand, Alhannah gripped the mic over Pip’s own. The announcer flinched, his smile now stressed. “As a previous champion of these incredible games, I have never seen the skill that Wendell Dipmier displayed in the Gnolaum. There is no question in my mind who the winner is this season.” She pushed the mic into the elf’s face.

Lightening cracked and thunder roared overhead as it began to rain.

“Alhannah’s right,” Dax said soberly, glancing over at Wendell. “Gnolaum was the heart and strength of this team and the true hero of this city.” He smiled then. Not his normal, scary or intimidating grin…but one of pride. “Wendell Dipmier is the People’s Champion.”

The stadium went crazy. Fans screamed and cheered as the cameras swept across the crowds. Thousands of waving fans flashed over the screen above.

Pip fell back a step, pulling a handkerchief from his sports jacket. He tried  to discreetly wipe the blood smears off his hands while Dusty took his place. The announcer side stepped Alhannah and stood next to Wendell.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he grinned in his cosmetically enhanced way. “Which leads us to the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Besides being 60 million credits richer, what does the leader of Steel and Stone have to say to the roaring fans of Clockworks City?”

It was the moment he’d been waiting for. Wendell looked up at the crowd and waved. The cheers grew so loud, they drowned out the thunder of the storm. It was the moment he had fought and struggled to attain. This is it. You really are the Wendellizer. You’ve made it. He took the mic from Dusty, shook the announcers hand and then let his head fall back, the rain cooling his skin. You finally did something right.

The first sensation was a light tingling, almost tickling as the first drops hit the end of his nose. He almost laughed—the burning in his skin eased up and the sweat on his brow washed away. Ahhhh, this feels so much better than that stuffy cockpit! The feeling spread over his skin, across his face and for a moment, he had the sudden urge to scratch. Behind the tingling wave was warmth. His body completely relaxed. By the time the sensation had reached his shoulders, his face felt like it was being caressed with warm water, dripping down his skin.

With a grin on his face, he raised the mic to his lips.

“There is something I have wanted to say to the amazing gnomes of this city, since the moment I entered the games…”

“Pssst!” Dax hissed.

The speakers of the stadium popped as Pip’s microphone hit the ground. The feedbacks shrieking was so loud, Wendell cringed. He blinked and opened his eyes.

Both Dusty and Pip were sprinting from the platform. Down the second set of stairs and across the arena they ran, tripping and shoving one another out of the way.

Wendell frowned. Where the heck are they going? But that wasn’t the oddest thing he noticed.

Only the sound of the storm could be heard overhead.

Two million gnomes had fallen into utter silence.

“WENDELL!” Dax grunted. Blood was trickling down the gnomes face and down the front of her pilot uniform. He struggled to hold up Alhannah’s body with his good arm.

His four-fingered, green arm.

Wendell’s mouth dropped open as he looked down at his own body.

A little crystal, attached to a long silver chain hung around his neck—cracked and smoking.

Dax looked up with eyes once again as big as softballs and cursed.

“Awww fairy farts.”