The path led to a cavernous room shining with golden light. James passed under a massive archway that framed the entrance, and walked beside stone blocks that directed the flow of the stream. A collection of buzzing globes hung from wire above his head and in front of him spun an enormous waterwheel. Huge, metal, and rumbling, a sturdy shaft anchored the center, bearings supported the sides, and tiny gizmos wound up a wire so tight it resembled a spool of thread. The contraption was strange and complicated and all together marvelous.

Beside the wheel was an odd stone structure that looked like a house. It had a window and a door and a roof, but what made it odd was its size. The house was very small compared to any normal house, and the door was hardly the height of his shoulder. A troubling thought developed in his mind—a very small house near a very big wheel is a very unusual thing.

A light flickered from inside the house. James got goosebumps as the troubling thought of the house turned into the troubling thought of who was inside it. Who could live in a house like that?

Clank! Clank! Clank!

“Blasterbork!” shouted an angry voice.

James cowered behind a stone block.

“Fix one cog and break another. That’s how it normally goes.”

James realized the voice wasn’t talking to him. He moved beneath the window, went to his knees, and pressed against the wall. His heart was pounding, his thoughts were loud. Run! Don’t look! Don’t make a sound! But he didn’t run. He stayed at the window. Curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he stretched his neck for a peek inside.

In the center of the house was a small wood table surrounded by four small chairs. A basket of white veined rocks lay neatly on the table and a simple red rug brought color to a stone gray floor. Seated by a workbench was a small man with an even smaller hammer, and James couldn’t help but stare, for the man was half the size of James and a hundred times his age.

Clank! Clank! Clank!

The small man swung the hammer down on a gear as beads of sweat formed on his brow. Bushy eyebrows directed the sweat away from his squished nose, and his shirt was stained from working. He set down the hammer and patted his face with a rag.

“That should do it.”

Next he dug through the large pocket of his tan-colored apron and pulled out a hinged gadget with two curved jaws. The silver gadget suited the man, for it looked old and worn as well, as if years of work had dulled the shine. His hands opened the gadget around the gear, and he twisted a thin rod until the jaws squeezed tightly on it.

“Two and fifty seven hundredths, and precisely where it should be,” said the man. A cheeky smile formed on his face.

There was a sudden movement above James’ head. A metal owl perched on the roof, its feathers layered brass, silver gears for eyes—and they were staring right at him. The owl slowly lifted its mechanical wings as a wind-up tab spun in circles on its face. James sank away from the window but kept his eyes glued to the owl.

Please stop moving. Please stop moving. Please. Pretty please?

James’ wish came true. The wind-up tab stopped as the owl’s wings came together above its head.

“Phweeeeeeeeet!” the owl whistled loudly as its wings lowered down to its side.

“Is that you, Pendle?” The man stuck his head out the window with a scrunched up face.

James froze and closed his eyes. He listened for footsteps but couldn’t hear anything except the rushing stream and the hum of the enormous wheel. There was no will within him to run. James pulled his legs in close and buried his head to hide.

Maybe he won’t see me.

James repeated the thought over and over again in his head to make it true, but he felt something tap on his shoulder.

Was that him? Did he find me?

He tried his best to ignore it, but after a few seconds, a hard jab went into his shoulder.

“Ouch!”

James opened his eyes and slowly raised his head. Standing in front of him was the small man with the white bushy eyebrows and squished nose, and he was waving a pointy stick.

“Are you spying on me?” the man grumbled.

James’ mouth hung open as he tried to form words. He shook his head side to side.

“What kind of creature are you?” said the man. “You’re much too shy to be a halfling and a little too handsome for a ghoul. Ah! I know what you are—a human! I’m right, aren’t I?” The man grinned and looked quite sure of himself.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

James stared wide-eyed as he mustered up the courage to speak. “You’re not going to eat me, are you?”

“Gnomes eat rocks, not humans,” said the man.

James was confused. “So you’re not going to eat me?”

“If I was anything like the Olm, I would have eaten you already,” said the man as he rested his hands on his hips.

That didn’t make James feel any better. Who was the Olm? Was he small and cranky too?

James gazed at the wheel and listened to it hum. The mesmerizing motion calmed him down. He relaxed the tension from his arms to his legs and rested his back on the wall of the house.

The man softened his tone, “So you like water wheels? They’re fascinating, aren’t they? I designed this one myself. You wouldn’t believe the trouble I went through to build it.”

“Does it ever stop?” asked James.

“Nope, it never stops. It used to, but that was my brother's fault.”

“You have a brother too?” said James.

“Ha! All gnomes have brothers, and I have three,” said the man. “My name is Tinker and I’m the smartest of my brothers. Yendar is the oldest, Pendar is the strongest, and Pendle is the smallest.”

Tinker pointed at James. “Do you have a name?”

James mumbled his name as he touched the wall. “Is this your house?”

“I do live here, but no, it’s not my house. This is Yendar’s house. After all, he’s the oldest,” said Tinker as he scratched his head. “Would you like to come in?”

James examined the gnome. Tinker was like a miniature version of his Grampa, and sometimes his Grampa was grumpy, but never scary. His Grampa had all sorts of cool gizmos at his house. He wondered what cool gizmos he’d find inside Tinker’s house.

That settled it. James stood up, tightened the straps on his backpack, and accepted the invitation with a simple ‘OK’. He ducked as he walked through the small door, moving carefully to avoid bumping his head. His hair brushed against the ceiling as he shuffled his feet and he joined Tinker alongside the workbench. Buried under the mess of tools, James noticed something familiar—a metal toy, rodent-like with tiny gears. He opened his backpack and held out the metal squirrel he found along the path.

“Did you make this?” asked James.

“Sentry IX!” smiled Tinker as he took it from James’ hand.

“It’s broken,” said James.

“Sometimes this sort of thing happens,” explained Tinker. “I have many clockworks patrolling the mountain and occasionally they return a bit worse for the wear.”

James perked up. “Maybe the clockworks found my brother and sister?”

Tinker scrunched his nose and picked up a worn book. “Well, let’s see when the next clockwork is due back,” he said as he flipped through hundreds of hand-written pages. “I have it written down somewhere.”

Tinker’s eyebrows raised high as he scanned the page. “Ah! Yes, here it is—Sentry V is next to return—in only two more weeks.”

“That’s forever,” groaned James. “I can’t wait that long. I need to find them now. Can I use your phone to call my Mom and Dad? My sister has a phone too. We could text her.”

Tinker had a puzzled look on his face and he rubbed the back of his neck.

James tried again. “Can I please call my Mom? If she doesn’t pick up, we can leave her a message.”

Tinker's face lit up with a lively expression.

“A message sender!” said Tinker as he started rummaging through a box. “Now where is it?”

Tinker darted across the room to a big chest. Out came all sorts of gadgets and gizmos, and finally his hands settled on a strange device.

“This is the one,” said Tinker. He showed it proudly to James. “I call it the Crawler.”

The device gleamed with shiny silver and looked like an oversized ant. Tinker pressed a button on the thorax and tiny red lights blinked at the tip of each antenna.

“Record your message,” said Tinker.

James put his face near the Crawler and started talking, “Mom, can you come get me? I’m in a cave with Tinker and I don’t know where Harley and Yoyo are.” James paused and watched as the antenna lights changed from blinking red to solid white.

“The Crawler finds its target with an olfactory device,” explained Tinker. “Do you have anything from your Mom?”

James went to his backpack and pulled out his lunch. There was the crushed bag of chips, a bruised apple, and a grilled cheese sandwich that was flat as a pancake.

“My Mom always packs my lunch,” said James.

Tinker took a small piece of the grilled cheese and dropped it into a glass vial. He poured black liquid into the vial, stirred it all up, and stopped when he saw a wisp of purple smoke.

“A drop should do it,” said Tinker as he tipped the vial and trickled a single drop onto the head of the clockwork Crawler.

Tinker placed the clockwork onto the workbench and it came to life with a whirring sound. Its antennas probed the air. James watched in amazement as the Crawler marched off the bench, up the wall of Tinker’s house, and onto the window ledge.

“I hate this part,” said Tinker with a heavy sigh. “When you make something, the time comes when it must go out into the world on its own. And there’s no telling how it’ll turn out.”

A moment later the clockwork ant crawled out the window and out of sight. The whirring was gone and Tinker moved to a seat at the table. He picked up the basket of white veined rocks and offered it to James.

“Dolomyte?” said Tinker. “It’s a gnomish delight.”

They looked like ordinary rocks to James and not particularly tasty. But a snack sounded nice, and his mouth craved something sweet. He searched the front pouch of his backpack for a piece of chocolate. There was an old candy wrapper from yesterday and a bright orange clementine, but nothing else. James shrugged his shoulders and settled for a bite of his apple and half of his grilled cheese sandwich. The house brimmed with happy munching sounds as the pair ate their snacks.

A distant yell interrupted the peace. “The Olm is awake!”

James went to the window and stopped chewing to listen. The yells were getting louder, and each yell was the same.

“The Olm is awake?” asked James.

“The Olm has been dormant for some time,” said Tinker, pulling a pair of metal goggles from his apron, the lenses tinted bright red. “Something has woken it up.”