There is no limit as to what we can learn. Through study, we can learn from the past. Experience can empower us to handle the present. For those who desire to learn of the future, dreams hold a subtle key.

Not all things we see, as we sleep, should be cast aside as non-consequential rubbish. It is true that the mind can play many tricks…but it can also send you messages meant to be deciphered at a later date.

“Hello?”

Heavy branches swayed in the cool spring breeze. Wendell wasn’t entirely sure how he knew it was springtime, but he did. The sweet scent of fresh growth—grass peeking up from the soil, new buds on trees, it all spoke new life to him. Even the light blue glow of the twin moons overhead gave him comfort.

How did I get…?

Without thinking, his hand went to his side. The wound, where the whip had torn his flesh…the mägoweave was whole once more. Holding his breath, he pressed in firmly with his fingers, ready to flinch. Nothing. He pushed again, but there was no pain. Thank goodness. Looking down, Wendell checked the smiley face, a bright yellow face practically glowing on the front of his shirt. Its eyes were frozen in a content expression, completely inanimate.

The sound of crickets tickled his senses—something he’d not heard in months. Moving among the trees, he walked to the edge of what looked to be a grove and looked up. It was night, but he didn’t recognize where he was. He laughed.

Like you’d be able to tell where you are! Dork.

The sky was clear, the moons high. Wendell could even see the flower formation of lights on Iskäri-Käläm. Erimuri is alive and bright tonight, he grinned.

So how had he arrived…wherever this was?

Lights were ablaze in the distance. Yellow and slightly offset. A town? Village maybe? Wendell didn’t actually care, so long as it wasn’t ablaze or deserted. Shifting among the rocks, being careful with his footing, he made his way down the hillside, focusing on the lights of the dwellings. When he’d arrived at the bottom and the ground leveled out, he turned to look in the direction he’d traveled from.

The mountains seemed so large and intimidating, now that he’d left the protection of the forest. Giant formations jutting up from the ground, tops covered in snow. The curtain of trees in front disguised the base of the mountains…like black fingers trying to claw at the sky.

A animal howled in the distance.

Okay Wendell, we are walking. Walking fast and focused, going toWARDS the light. His feet moved quickly, only restraining from a full-fledged sprint so as not to be noticed by any would-be predator that may be hungry and on the hunt for human male fast food.

Another howl. Wendell decided sprinting was actually a healthy exercise.

The further he moved into the valley, the louder the crickets became. He never realized how pleasant a sound it was. It was a dramatic contrast to the buzz-whirl-tic-toc mechanisms of the gnome city.

Gnome city.

How did he get here? The last thing he remembered was being chained to a stone alter somewhere in the Church of temple of TGII. No, wait. Was I in a temple? There was no real way to tell. He hadn’t seen anything until he awoke in that bad situation and it had only gotten worse once Noah arrived.

My friends. He swallowed as the third howl ripped through the silence of the night. The sound was much, much closer now. Too close for comfort.

He picked up his pace.

The lights were much closer. It was definitely a village ahead of him. He could see the formations better now. Fields where corn and other plants were growing tall, barns and there were shadows of what looked to be horses. A dozen homes, perhaps a few more. The rest of the landscape was fields, prairies and scattered clumps of trees.

Howl. It was soon after followed by a distant growl.

Not distant enough.

Crap. Crap. Crap! Wendell broke into a full-out run.

Heart pounding, sweat starting to bead on his forehead, all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.

Not even the crickets.

One of his heels landed on the edge of a flat stone, which gave way under his weight. Throwing him off balance, Wendell was unable to catch himself. He tumbled forward with a grunt and hit the ground hard.

“Argh!” he cried out. Rolling onto his back, he brought his knee towards his chest.

My ankle. Dang it! I’m on the run and you have to go and wound your ankle?!

His ears perked back as the world around him seemed to hold its breath.

For several long moments, Wendell bit his lip to keep silent, trying hard to blend into the nothing that was silence.

That silence was broken by a faint hissing sound.

Get up Wendell-time to move it! Letting his leg go, he flipped himself onto his belly and then up onto his knees. Scanning the ridge where he’d just come from, there was nothing to see. Just open space at the end of the sloping hill.

Again the hiss.

Not more that twenty feet away, a cluster of large rocks tempted him, sticking up from the ground. They seemed high enough to avoid snakes. Wendell used his arms and knees, working his way across the ground like a wounded animal.

Come on, you can do this. Move it!

Another howl…close enough to cause Wendell to slap a hand over his own mouth for fear of crying out. He froze at the edge of the rocks. No knowing where to go or what to do, he ducked his head and tried to curl his body between the stones. Wolves…or whatever that was howling, was far scarier than a hissing snake.

Well,…as long as it’s a small snake.

Already the pain in his ankle was subsiding and Wendell could feel the warmth washing over skin and pulsing through bone and muscle. Would it be enough? The buildings 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…

His attention was immediately pulled back to the present.

Hssssss. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr.

It sounded like scraping. Something large, being dragged over gravel.

Hssssss.

Crap. Crap. CRAP! Hands shaking, Wendell held his 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, no clue how that happened, so why wouldn’t there be something big, nasty and dangerous to eat MY FACE!??

He clenched his eyes tight.

Hssssss. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr. Skkrrrrrr.

Stay calm. Keep…calm.

The sound drew closer and closer. Sliding up to the far side of the boulder Wendell was hiding behind. He wanted to breathe. He needed to breathe—but fear of being found kept his mouth closed.

Skkrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Wendell inched his hand to his mouth and silently sipped air through tight fingers. It…stopped. Eyes wide, they darting back and forth, searching the shadows around him without moving his head. Please go away. Please… All he could think about was being eaten. Wendell regretted all those late nights watching those horror movies mom never wanted in the house. Stupid teenagers screaming and dying because they wouldn’t listen to adults. I don’t want to be an animal pop tart.

Hssssss.

Wendell clamped down on his bottom lip.

It’s moving! He held his breath.

A howl in the distance cut through the night.

Hssst.

Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt. Skkrrrt.

The movements were fast and loud—briefly scraping up against the rock Wendell was hiding behind.

Please. Please. Please, he trembled. Don’t eat me. I don’t taste good. There has to be a nice fat…bear or something around here, he whimpered.

Then he saw it.

The light from the moons cast long shadows along the ground. Dark shapes moved near Wendell’s shoulder.

It was not a snake.

Tattered and worn, perhaps wounded, the creature was dragging itself across the rocks and grass. Wendell blinked and at first, he thought he was imagining it all. The contours didn’t follow any recognizable from he 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 from.

What IS that thing? It looks like… Wendell couldn’t help but stare as it swayed, slithering away from his position and dragging its mass over the open ground. At the same time, curiosity didn’t take place of the gratitude he felt. His position had gone unnoticed. The pain in his ankle was all but gone now—which meant he had a choice: remain on the ground, out in the open…or sprint for the homes in the distance.

Running away held a special allure to him at the moment.

Rolling onto his belly, Wendell peeked his head around the side of the rock. The creature was still moving away and would soon reach the distant edge of the forest. Once it’s out of site, I’ll make a dash for it. The lights in the distance were still a bright sign of hope. He wondered, then, if the people who lived there would know what he’d just seen?

Almost there. He stared at the slithering shadow. Keep going, you ugly, that’s it. One. Two. THREE!

Pushing up to his knees, Wendell grabbed the rock for leverage and jumped to his feet.

“See ya suck…”

HSSSST!

Poised silently on the far side of the rock was another creature. But it was no wounded animal.

It was worse.

Wendell gasped for breath, unable to inhale as he looked squarely into the hood of his nightmares. The empty hood.

“Jussst a boy. Jussst a CHILD.”

Trembling, his feet shuffled backwards. “No,” he choked, “You’re not real. You’re just,” but he couldn’t finish the statement. It was standing—no, swaying in front of him. The robe of charcoal blackness. Hollow, vacant holes where a face should be. Shredded sleeves in place of hands of flesh, reaching out.

“Closer child. Let ussss end your pain.”

Like specters, it moved slowly towards him, crawling, prowling along, pausing only to stand upright. It towered over Wendell, arms outstretched, fingers—or the cloth in their place, curled inward. The words projected into his mind chilled his to the bone.

“You made your choice, boy.”

“NO!” he screamed, his senses returning. The robe lunged—but not before Wendell arched wide, sidestepping to avoid the first attack. The swipe from fleshless claws raked only air as the hero became a blur of motion.

Have to get away. Escape, he panicked. Without looking back, he spurred himself on, gulping air. There was only one place to go. The village. I have to warn them.  Help them.

No. His brows dropped forward. I have to protect them.

He’d accepted the responsibility in front of others…even in front of the Iskari High Council—but he’d not accepted it for himself. For his own personal reasons. Evan was the real hero. Wendell knew that now. He was the one everyone actually wanted. But they had ended up with Wendell instead…and it was time to accept that fact once and for all.Exerting all the strength he had, he put distance between himself and the robe. The hissing sound faded into the background of the crickets.

“If I’m not the hero,” he huffed out loud as he sprinted, “then it’s time I learn how to be one!” The words felt…good. Powerful.

The village was close now and he had no idea how much time he had before the robes would be upon them. A brief glance over his shoulder showed a shadow fast on his heels. Great, he frowned, I’m leading the danger right to their doorsteps. But he would need help. Hero or not, he couldn’t do this alone. Not yet.

Have to get everyone attention. “Välo,” he barked, followed by, “Teho!” Light quickly gathered around him, blazing like a beacon and brightening the area. He held the image of his skin, glowing like the noonday sun. I hope this doesn’t hurt.

“Teho!” he shouted, again.

Light flared from the Ithari, bursting through the black fibers of his shirt.

HSSSST!

The robe fell back from the light, slowing its pace to a crawl—its arms raised to protect eyes that didn’t exist.

“HEY!” Wendell bellowed, “WAKE UP! EVERYONE UP! YOUR VILLAGE IS UNDER ATTACK!” It wasn’t the accurate truth, but there wasn’t any time to explain. “TO ARMS!” he cried, “TO ARMS! TO ARMS!!”

He didn’t stop running until he’d reached the nearest hovel. His momentum was so great, he slammed into the front with a loud bang.

“Who is it?” called a trembling voice from inside.

“My name is Wendell,” he replied, banging on the door with a fist. “Your village is about to be attacked by…,” he had no idea what to say, what to call these things chasing him. “Demons,” was the only word that came to mind. “Open up—we need to warn everyonet!”

But the door remained closed.

“Did you hear me?” Wendell shouted again, “You’re under attack!” He glanced into the front window, but drapes covered every inch. He couldn’t see a thing.

“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?” Wendell gasped, “Are you serious? I’m trying to warn you! So what if I’m using magic?!” It had never occurred to Wendell that people might not be accepting when it came to magic. He’d naturally assumed that what he’d seen over the past few months was the norm? Had he been wrong? He shook the thought from his mind. There wasn’t time. It didn’t matter right now. The robe was already at the edge of the village.

Waiting.

Wendell turned his head slowly, the swaying motions at the edge of the light catching his attention. Oh boy, he gulped. The thing hissed loudly at him.

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! Wendell flipped back against the door, his confidence quickly waning. He 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 Wendell’s t-shirt.

“But there’s danger!” he pleaded. This isn’t working. People are going to get hurt, blast you! Why won’t you listen to me? His forehead rested against the wood surface of the door. Please open up. Before it’s too late.

“That’s why I’m in here and you’re still out there,” the voice chided, “You made your choice, boy.”

Wendell lifted his head, his eyes fixed on the door. “What…did you say?”

“I said,” repeated the voice, “You made your choice, boy!”

Flinging the door wide, the robe lunged out at Wendell.

With a shriek, Wendell’s head flipped upright, his torso tugging against the chains. Like the waves of the sea, a powerful coldness washed over him , causing his body to shake violently.

“Easy there,” whispered the old gnome. He knelt at the edge of the candles, watching carefully. “It was just a dream.”

Wendell blinked groggily and tried to swallow. He felt drained…his throat dry. He could hardly feel his body, the coldness had taken over bone and muscle. “W-where…” he muttered.

“You’re still here, with us,” the gnome whispered. “Noah’s gone, but he’ll be back.”

A dull ache throbbed inside Wendell’s skull. A liquid fog, churning, making it hard to focus. “Why does my head hurt so…much?”

The gnome pointed at him, “It’s the crown of dreams. The walls you naturally build in your mind are whittled away.”

Swallowing, “Why?” He flexed his fingers, but he couldn’t feel them any longer.

“Because it weakens your defenses. Noah’s after information and by jumbling it about in your consciousness, it’ll be easier to take it.”

Wendell grit his teeth, “So…cold. Don’t understand why…it’s so very cold.”

Glancing over at his sleeping friend, the gnome inched closer to the ring of candles. Leaning on one hand, he reached out and grabbed the flame of a candle. The wick went out.

Smiling to himself, he rocked back onto his knees and opened his palm.

Hovering over the center of his hand, was the open flame.

“Hold perfectly still, Mr. Dipmier,” he whispered.

“Call…me…Wendell.”

Closing his eyes, the gnome mouthed the words in silence. Surrounding Wendell, the remaining candles swayed—each flame leaning in an invisible wind towards the gnome. The flame in his palm intensified, turning in on itself, rolling in place. Yellow fire turned white, but it didn’t stop there. Within moments, he held a near transparent ball of heat. Lifting his hand to his lips, the gnome blew in the direction of the altar.

Like the fragile pieces of a dandelion, the sphere of heat swirled and drifted up and around, floating over the ring of candles and down towards Wendell’s shaking body. Skimming along the surface of his back, it drifted over the mägoweave, up and over Wendell’s head, then, splitting in half, rolled down both arms to the shackles.

With a resounding pop, the effects were instantaneous.

Color surged into Wendell’s flesh as the magical cloth and the Ithari worked together, warming his skin, bone and blood. With a single breath, the hero sighed relief.

“Thank you,” he gasped, lifting his head to look at his savior.

The gnome shrugged. “Tabbermain…and I’m afraid it won’t last. Oh, don’t worry,” he added, “the shackles won’t be able to work as well, but this warmth will only last an hour or so. I suggest you gather your strength.”

“Can you get them off me?”

Shaking his head, “Sorry. We made them too well.”

“You…made these shackles?”

“The shackles, chains, even enchanted the door to get out. The three of us did,” he said, nodding to the sleeping gnomes. “Didn’t have much choice.”

Wendell grunted, “We always have a choice.”

“Do you have children?” Tabbermain asked pointedly.

“What?”

“Children. I asked if you have any children, Wendell?”

“No, I don’t.”

The kind face turned stern, “Well we do. All of us. Grandchildren too. So until you have tiny lives depending on you for their survival, don’t tell me about choices.”

“Right,” then softer, “That was very inconsiderate of me. I’m sorry.” Then, “Thank you for the help.”

The old gnome collapsed back into the straw and leaned against the stone wall. “Just don’t mention it to these two. They’re likely to be irked that I went against Noah’s plans.” Averting his gaze, Tabbermain picked out stands of straw and broke them into pieces. “He’s a wicked-cruel gnome, that one is. Not right in the head.”

Wendell stretched, rolling his shoulders. He flinched. “Ouch.” The warmth of Ithari pulsed through his skin, numbing some of the pain from the wounds, but it still hurt. “I should have healed,” he whispered.

“Another aspect of the artifacts he’s using. The chains prevent you from using magic, especially healing. The whip manifests a poison that attacks healing magic.” Leaning forward, Tabbermain cocked his head to one side. “Is it true? You’re the Gnolaum? As in…you have the gem…in your chest?”

Wendell nodded, “Drilled herself right through my ribcage.”

The gnomes ears wigged, “You’re not serious!”

“Oh, I am very serious. Hurt worse than…well, let me put it top you this way: This job is to die for.”

You were not dead, Wendell.

The tingle in his chest made Wendell smile. “Well…almost, anyway.”

“Wow,” gasped the gnome, “I don’t think that would be an experience I’d want to have, myself.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly something I got to choo….,” he paused, “Never mind.”

“He won’t stop, you know.” The look was one of resignation. “Noah.”

Wendell pulled at the shackles, trying to lower his head towards his hands. If I can just pull the ringlet off my head. Grrrr. Alllmost…Ungh! but it was no use. The chains held him firmly in place, arms outstretched. Blast. “What does he want so badly that he’d hurt his own people?”

Tabbermain remained silent.

Wendell stopped struggling and stared at the gnome. “You know, don’t you?”

“Don’t you tell him a thing.”

Tabbermain shifted away from his waking friend. “I didn’t.”

“Tell me what?” Wendell prodded.

“That if we don’t kick yer hide off the island, you’ll ruin life for everybody,” replied the third gnome.

“Doddle!”

Tabbermain sighed, “It’s too late, Vin.”

“No it’s not,” replied Doddle innocently, completely ignoring Wendell’s presence. “That’s what we’re not supposed to tell him, right? So don’t tell him that! I’ll make up something. Something extra clever…like,” he looked about the cell as if he’d lost something. “Ooo! Ooo! I know!” He adjusted his thick glasses and trained his goofy grin on Wendell, “Would you believe us if we said you were an alien, from another planet? That you got kidnapped and this was, in fact, just a really bad dream?”

Wendell bit his lip. “Actually, I just might be willing to believe something like that.”

Doddle giggled and clapped his hands wildly like a three year old. Beaming back at his fellow gnomes,  he shouted, excited, “See?! We’ll just tell him that!”

With a loud moan, Vin rolled over into the straw and went back to sleep.