Wind whipped Bo’s beard up over his face and screamed past his ears as he plummeted from the bleeding tree’s outspread branches. The gnomes added shrieks of wild terror to the mayhem, and Bo did his best to ignore their panic as he cleared the blood-stained hair from his eyes. As the ground rushed toward him at terrifying speed, the pitmaster pulled the Hog’s Hop card from his deck and cocked the hand holding his cleaver back over his shoulder. He had to time this just right, or he and the gnomes would end up in a broken heap among the tree’s roots.

Jenny and Martin stared up at the falling champion, their eyes wide and mouths open in shock at his unexpected jump. For a moment, Bo thought they might try to get their makeshift life net under him, and prayed he was wrong. The knotted together collection of shirts might be enough to catch a tiny gnome, but it certainly wouldn’t stop Bo’s fall. Fortunately, Jenny came to her senses and dragged the rest of them out of his way. Just in time, too, as Bo was out of runway.

“Look out below!” He shouted and hurled the cleaver at the ground.

The weapon tumbled through the air, slicing through the wind as it spun end over end before slamming into the ground with a meaty thud. Driven by Bo’s supernatural strength, the weapon buried itself halfway up the hilt in the dirt. Hog’s Hop activated the split second later, and Bo’s hooves slammed into the ground. He stumbled one step forward, grabbed hold of his cleaver’s handle, and ripped the weapon free of the ground.

Just in time to catch sight of a tree guardian plummeting toward him. Bo cursed and swung the cleaver up to protect his skull from the falling fauxm. His weapon’s keen blade caught the monstrous little critter square in the face. The gnome-sized creature came apart with a loud ripping noise, and all its insides became outsides.

That splashed over Bo’s head and shoulders in a reeking black gout.

The gnomes, still clinging to Bo, let out an ear-piercing chorus of anguished wails. They tumbled loose from the pitmaster and helped each other back to their feet while wiping the black goo out of their eyes. They seemed too dazed to do much else, and could only stare as a small squadron of fauxm plummeted to their splattery deaths around them.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Jenny said as she stormed up to Bo. She raised a hand to slap his chest, saw the mess covering him, and thought better of it. “I thought you’d lost your mind jumping out of that tree.”

“Oh, I lost that a long time ago,” Bo said. “But we can talk about my mental health later. Right now, let’s put as much distance between ourselves and this tree as possible.”

“Kill gnomes,” the alpha hound interjected.

The biggest ghost dog and the rest of its pack had trotted down into the valley without Bo or his people noticing. The silver hound strode forward, its head held high, gleaming eyes fixed on the pitmaster. The challenge in its stare was clear, but Bo wouldn’t back down. He’d just saved the gnomes. Feeding them to this dog pack was out of the question.

“Hold your horses,” Bo said. “Let’s get away from this tree, then we’ll decide what comes next.”

The alpha considered this for a moment, its eyes never leaving Bo, even when it sidestepped another falling fauxm. Chunks of skin and sprays of blood passed straight through the creature’s spectral body. Finally, the creature nodded, barked, then trotted off toward the valley’s eastern edge.

“Thank you for not feeding us to the dogs,” the first gnome Bo had rescued said. “My name’s Jizdoogle. But you can call me Jizzy.”

“I will not,” Bo said as he trotted after the dogs. The ground beneath his hooves was alive with squirming roots. He didn’t bother stepping over or around all of them, which would’ve been impossible in any case. He kept an eye out for the larger roots that rose unexpectedly to trip him and yelled back to warn the others when aggressive tendrils snaked up out of the red earth.

Behind Bo, the rest of the party swung machetes, cleavers, meat tenderizers, and the rest of their makeshift weapons as they ran, doing a good job of obliterating the bad guys who survived their insane leaps from the tree’s branches. The gnomes helped where they could, kicking and punching at their cruel imitators as they scrambled over roots and struggled to keep up with the rest of the group.

By the time the motley crew had reached the edge of the valley, Bo’s allies were run ragged. The events of the day had left them wiped out, physically and emotionally. They looked at Bo with a mixture of relief and wariness when he called a halt at the valley’s border.

“We’ll stop here for an hour,” the pitmaster said. “We all need a break.”

“Could we get some clothing?” Jizdoogle asked. “Running around naked and covered in blood isn’t very comfortable.”

“You’re welcome,” Bo said. “Sorry I didn’t bring a complete change of wardrobe in the limousine when I liberated you from the evil tree.”

“I apologize for being testy,” Jizdoogle said. “This has been a very trying experience. It feels like we’ve been trapped in that tree forever. How long ago did the harvest cycle start?”

“A couple of days,” Bo explained.

The gnomes stared at Bo with shock and amazement in their eyes. Their leader, who Bo had decided to start calling Big J, tugged at his pointed beard and looked down at the ground. He paced back and forth, lost in thought, then stopped and raised one hand. He looked to Bo like a Boy Scout about to recite his pledge.

“Our people came here to harvest this world,” the gnome said. “Not for simple greed or sadistic pleasure, but because our people need resources to survive.”

Isn’t it convenient that these gnomes so desperately needed resources from your poor planet? I smell something rotten, and it’s not just naked gnome crotch.

“You aren’t the only ones who came here to steal from my world,” Bo said. “It didn’t work out for the Devouring Devils. Doesn’t look like things went so well for you, either.”

“That is true,” the gnome agreed. “Something went wrong with our transference crystal. I believe that the tree somehow corrupted our focusing ritual. The last thing I remember is stepping into the portal, and then…it’s a blur. There was pain, but that’s all I can really remember.”

You should give them to the dogs. I doubt they’ll be of any use to us. Gnomes are not to be trusted.

“How many of you were sent here for the harvest?” Bo asked. He wanted to be sure there wasn’t a small army of gnomes he’d have to deal with later.

“A hundred of our best workers came on the trip,” Big J said. “But only those of us you see before you survived. If more of our people were on this world, I would feel them. Such is my role as a soul shepherd of the Dingle Gnomes.”

Stolen story; please report.

Big J’s words sent a ripple of sorrow through his people. Several of them cried out, others stifled sobs by pressing knuckles to their lips. Tears crawled down their faces, carving channels through the gore that soaked them from head to toe. The pale streaks left on their chubby cheeks looked like lightning strokes of grief branded into the skin. The display of emotion moved Bo, and the pitmaster realized he hadn’t seen many tears from the human survivors. He wasn’t sure what that said about the gnomes or about the humans.

Or himself.

Sure, Bo felt twinges of sadness whenever he thought about how many people had died. But the pitmaster didn’t have time to indulge his sorrow.

Not even after being tormented by the voice of his dead father. Who’d told Bo that his sister was also dead.

Nope. This was not the time for any of that.

“Sorry for your loss,” Bo said to the gnomes. “But we have a big problem to deal with. The silver hounds—”

“Kill the gnomes,” the dog said. The damn thing had come up on Bo’s left side while he was talking to the gnomes. The pitmaster hadn’t even noticed the creature approaching, nor had any of his allies.

“Let’s talk about this,” Bo said. “These guys don’t seem so bad to me.”

“Evil,” the spectral dog said, lowering its head to glare at Big J. “Let us kill.”

“We’re not evil!” The gnome protested. “We only took part in the harvest because our world is dying. We needed the resources to rejuvenate it.”

“Tree gnomes,” the alpha said. “Kill now.”

Bo sighed and stepped between the alpha and the gnomes. “You’ve got a real one-track mind, dog. Look, I know you think these gnomes are evil. But I think you’re confused. They were captured by the tree, they’re not from the tree. Get it?”

The alpha tossed its head uncertainly and let out a low bark. “Smell evil.”

The gnomes didn’t back down from the hound, but they certainly would not stand up to it either. Big J looked plaintively at Bo, his eyes wide and wet with fear. While the pitmaster wasn’t a big fan of anyone who’d come to his world to harvest it, he couldn’t stomach the idea of feeding these helpless little gnomes to the pack of ghost dogs.

“They smell evil because they’ve got tree goo all over them,” Bo said. “I’m willing to bet the gnomes you think are evil were the creepy little guardians that tried to stop me from rescuing these guys. Ever heard the phrase ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’ That’s what we’ve got going on here. We’re not killing these gnomes.”

“How trust?” The hound asked. It no longer seemed quite so bent on homicide, but it wasn’t ready to give up that bone just yet. Bo needed to find some way to reassure the alpha these gnomes wouldn’t stab them all in the back.

“And how can we be sure the dogs won’t eat us the first time we turn our back on them?” Big J asked. “We can’t defend ourselves from them. And you can’t be everywhere at once. Maybe you should send the dogs away.”

Bo didn’t like that idea at all. For one, he thought the hounds might make useful allies in his coming battle against the grunge elves. A bunch of fast-moving ghost dogs might be just the thing to get behind enemy lines and raise a ruckus. But for that to happen, Bo needed to keep on the alpha’s good side.

“We’ll make a deal,” Bo said. “Once we split up the Holy Roast with the knights, the hounds will go back to their town. Big J, you guys are welcome to come with us back to our base.”

The alpha shook its head. “Gnomes tricky. Corrupt you.”

“These guys?” Bo asked. “I don’t think that’ll happen. But if it makes you feel better, how about one of your pack comes with me? He can watch over the gnomes, and make sure they aren’t up to any shenanigans.”

The alpha considered that for a moment, then bobbed its head and let out a sharp bark. One of the ghost dogs, smaller than the alpha but only by hair, trotted away from the rest of the pack and sat down next to Bo. He looked up at him with glowing silver eyes, and said, “Watcher.”

“Is that your name or your job?” Bo asked.

The ghost dog licked his chops and said, “Watcher.”

“Fantastic,” Bo said. “Now that we’ve settled that, let’s go see the knights and give them their share of the Roast.”

“Wait,” the alpha said. “Give gnome.”

“Of course. You want a gnome,” Bo said flatly. “I can’t make any of them go with you. They don’t have a reason to trust you, and you’ve been pretty murdery about this whole thing.”

“Exchange,” the alpha said. “One for one.”

Bo expected big J to throw a fit and refuse to make one of his people a hostage. If the shoe was on the other hoof, the pitmaster wouldn’t send any of his people to live with the dogs, either. The hounds had a very black and white view of the world, and they’d decided that the gnomes came from the wrong side of the tracks. There was no way that Bo could guarantee the safety of any gnome who went with those hounds.

To his surprise, though, Big J nodded and stepped forward. “I will go with the silver hounds to vouchsafe the behavior of my people. Do I have your word of honor that you will not kill me?”

The little guy’s bravery brought a lump to Bo’s throat. He’d feel like absolute garbage if the dogs killed Big J. The little man had stepped up for his people when they needed it most. Bo decided to back his play.

“You treat him right,” the pitmaster said to the alpha. “And you swear he doesn’t get eaten unless you consult me first.”

The alpha wrinkled its nose, baring ivory white fangs tinged with silver, and barked at Bo. For a moment, the pitmaster thought he’d have a fight on his hands, but the spectral canine finally relaxed. “Keep safe. No harm. Ten nights.”

“We’ve got a deal,” Bo sighed. “Your dog will keep an eye on the other gnomes, and Big J will keep an eye on you. In ten days, I’ll come to your town. If everybody’s been cool that whole time, your dog goes home with you, and the gnome comes with me. Agreed?”

The alpha sat on its haunches, barked once more, and offered Bo its paw. The two of them shook, and the dog immediately hopped back up on all fours and gathered its pack behind it. “To the knights.”

“Before we take off, prove to me you’ve got the Roast.” Bo didn’t think the dog would lie, but he’d seen too much weird crap during the past few days to trust anyone completely. He waited patiently while the dog grumbled deep in its throat, sat back on its haunches, and held both paws out in front of it. A moment later, silver light shimmered in the air between the dog’s front legs, slowly materializing into a massive hunk of roast beef.

“How the heck did you do that?” Bo asked.

It kept the meat in its personal storage space. You could do the same.

“I mean, I’ll take that now, if it’s all right with you,” Bo said. “We’ll split it when we get to the knights.”

The dog barked again, and Bo took the meat from it. He was glad for the gloves he still wore, because the Holy Roast was warm and greasy. While the dog licked the juices off its paws, Bo followed Barbie’s instructions to move it into his personal storage. That involved no more effort than thinking about it, which was an enormous relief to the pitmaster.

With everything stowed, the group headed north to reunite with the knights. The dogs kept a relentless pace during that trip, and Bo’s people nearly didn’t make it. When they finally stopped at the longhouse that had once been an Arby’s, Martin and his men promptly flopped down on the ground and cradled their heads in their hands. They’d all carried at least one gnome because the little guys and gals couldn’t keep up the pace. The extra burden had completely wiped out Martin’s men.

The knights were excited to see Bo’s return, though they were wary of the dogs. The last time those men had seen a weird dog, it was the Anubites doing all kinds of horrible things to them with Gontar’s power. After Bo reassured everyone that they were all friends, he split the roast between the two factions. With that handled, everyone settled in for a night’s rest.

Everyone except for Bo. Despite all his exertions during the day, the pitmaster was filled with restless energy. He’d accomplished a lot since picking up his deck, but there was still so much left for him to do. His mind picked and poked at the tasks that lay in front of him, making it impossible for Bo to do anything but worry about them.

He still needed to deal with the expert decks.

He had to spend the community build tokens to bolster the casino against the Grunge Elves and other enemies. Like those damned jackalopes.

And every time he turned around, some new challenge got dropped on his plate.

Bo worried he was just one man, and even if he worked himself to death, it wouldn’t be enough.

Because the grunge elves had their own champions. For every one thing the pitmaster accomplished, they’d probably achieved ten. Maybe more.

Thinking about all that drew the pitmaster’s mind back to the casino and the people it held. Bo felt the community focus draw his attention with the unerring force of a magnet pulling iron filings. He couldn’t see his base from this distance, but that didn’t keep him from looking.

And what he saw disturbed him.

Far off in the distance, beyond the edge of the horizon, a purple glow thrust toward the sky. It had a strange shape, like a crooked finger poking at the stars, and the pitmaster knew it was dangerous.

The grunge elves have been busy.

“What is it?” Bo asked. His skin crawled at the sight of the thing, but he couldn’t look away.

Something bad. Very, very bad.