45 – Light as a Feather

Simon dropped the pipes and strips of copper to the floor with a clattering crash, wiping his grimy palms on his trousers with a heavy grunt. “I thought you said not to touch Kit’s steam turbines.”

“I’m sure Kit will understand, seeing as we’re on a mission for the king.” Gomp adjusted a brass fitting on a chaotic mound of junk. Drops of sweat rolled from the greasy end of his beard, splashing directly onto the metal.

Simon left him to his tinkering and marched to the lip of the passage.

The shaft dropped straight down into total stillness. He traced a finger along his forearm, feeling the metal guards dented and twisted out of alignment where Paco’s teeth had dug in.

An irrational prickle of annoyance hit him.

Why did the lizard have to bite so hard? The irritation faded quickly, replaced by a cold, heavy weight in his gut. “I hope the little one is safe. It’s awfully quiet down there.”

“That overgrown lizard wants to take the lead at every opportunity.” Gomp didn’t look up from his wrench. “He has some hierarchy issues, I’ll tell you as much.”

The gnome pushed his soot-stained goggles up onto his forehead, leaving two pale circles around his eyes against the thick fur of his face. “Done. I’ll call this the Jump-Hump Gomper Three Thousand.” He nodded to himself, patting the top cylinder.

Simon stepped closer to examine the contraption.

Two wide nozzles flared at the base, situated beneath a squat pressure tank bolted crookedly at the center, with copper pipes jutting in every direction. Across the top, a pair of bent tubes looped back on themselves like rusty meat hooks.

There wasn’t a single reassuring weld on the entire frame.

He drew back a boot and gave the tank a sharp kick.

The structure rang like a cracked bell, vibrating through the soles of his boots. “I don’t trust this thing.”

“Nonsense. Every invention of mine works.” Gomp picked up a grease rag, wiping his fingers before muttering, “Sometimes in unexpected ways, but it always does.”

Simon’s shoulders sank. They nearly buckled under the combined weight of everything he’d agreed to. “How is this marvel of Gomp engineering supposed to take us down there?”

Gomp clicked his tongue three times, shaking his head until his beard swung. “My dear hummie. This doesn’t take us down. Gravity does. But this marvel will make sure we descend nice and slow, like a feather.”

He mimed a feather drifting down with his hand, swaying it lazily from side to side.

Simon swallowed as he watched the motion, his gaze sliding toward the sturdy walls of the opening below.

“I see?” Simon’s brows drew together, his mouth twisting into a hard grimace as he stared back into the black opening of the shaft.

“Good. I’m glad you do.” Gomp extended a filthy palm right in front of the priest’s chin. “Now the power source.”

Simon blinked, his jaw shifting as his head tilted back.

“That thing.” Gomp jabbed a thick, blunt finger toward the medallion resting against Simon’s black tunic.

“Wait, what?” Simon clapped a palm over the cold crimson disk, sealing it flat against his ribs. “Isn’t this thing supposed to keep me alive down here? With the heat and all that? Use your bloody one.”

Gomp’s coarse beard bristled, his nostrils flaring with indignation. “Mine is a gift from the king for my hard labor. I’ll never take it off.”

The gnome snapped his mouth shut, chewing on his own mustache for a silent second while he calculated.

“But I suppose you’re right in your ignorance. You mostly need to breathe, after all.” He dug thick fingernails into his chin, scratching hard through the tangled hair before raising a single, grime-caked digit. “Easy fix. We connect a rope between our waists. That will keep us in contact, and the effect of my amulet will transfer to you as well.”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

He scanned the ground, his boots kicking through discarded copper scrap until he uncoiled a heavy length of iron links. He hoisted the mass with a satisfied grunt.

“This will do.” He rattled the chain, the cold metallic clink echoing down the dark.

He looped the links around his own thick middle, securing the slack with a threaded screw and a rusted bolt. He moved closer, throwing the remaining length around Simon’s waist.

The metal bit hard into Simon’s hip and straight into his stomach, cinching so tight the breath left his lungs in a sharp gasp. A sudden, inappropriate urge to laugh at how ridiculous they looked flared inside him, instantly crushed by a cold spike of panic.

He was chained to a madman. Or rather, a mad gnome, to be precise.

“Now give me that thing and let us move on.” Gomp extended his soot-streaked hand, snapping his fingers impatiently.