Tark shook his head as he recovered enough to see straight. 'The Ranar are gnomes. They're our people. What a thing to forget!'

'You're telling me,' answered Coop. ' And this is their home. So, where the hell are they?'

Tark was still forming a reply when he heard distant footsteps come and go. Whoever it was must have been in a rush.

Coop tried to follow his brother's gaze and failed. 'You're the one who was talking to them in your dreams. You can't light a beacon or some shit?'

'Come on then, expert. What beacon did you have in mind?'

'A light. A bang. I don't care. Do it.'

Tark grumbled and closed his eyes, but there wasn't a word from his dream visiting friends. So, he opened them, resigned to admit defeat, but defeat did not find him. There was a garden gnome standing mere inches from his face with a crimson-coloured book in one hand and a dripping bloodied bandage in the other.

Behind them on the chamber wall were a dozen sketched symbols of various kinds, most were finished, but some weren't. It reminded Coop of an art class he'd attended as a child, where the teacher had deemed some students worthy enough to have their work displayed. Of course, Coop had never been good a drawing, so a small, jealous part of him resented the idea.

Tark shoved his brother when he didn't offer a greeting. 'Hi.'

Coop tore his eyes away from the wall and smiled as best he could. 'Hello.'

'Hellooo.' Repeated the yellow-robed man, gripping tighter to his book.

'Is everything alright?'

'Alright,' copied the Ranar greeter. 'Alright indeed.'

'What should we-'

The Ranar inspector waddled around the pair, poking at Coop's scalp with a pin. 'By the Thelor, you are real.'

'Last time I checked.' Tark laughed.

'Blessings! Blessings! It worked, Tarquin. It actually worked this time. Get down here and see to our guests.'

Barely one second later, another Garden Gnome dressed in green dungarees with a feather cap appeared. And next to him flashed a glistening silver trolley filled with food.

There was homebaked bread, thick-crusted pies, pink icing-coated cakes, and steaming stew, but, the most intoxicating scent of all came from the pickled fish buns.

'These are for us?'

Tarquin beamed. 'Of course! I didn't bring it for old Farline here.'

'Hey, you still work for me. You cheeky snot.'

'Not to sound ungrateful,' interrupted Tark. 'But, do you have a table and chairs? I feel like I've been running for a lifetime.'

'Oh, sorry.'

No sooner had Farline spoken, did their surroundings begin to change. The chamber's walls seemed to dissolve like water onto scribing paper, and yet their final form remained a mystery. First, the marble floor transformed into lush green grass, its stems crisp and numerous.

Then, the flat surface quickly developed banks, streams, a gentle river, crop-sewn fields, paths, and woodlands as far as the eye could see. It was a fertile land, teeming with life. Set into the hillsides were houses with doors no larger than human windows. The windows were half that size too, barely wide enough to justify the glass fitted within.

One such window had a bird's nest clinging to the underside of the ledge, with half a dozen babies chirping for food. Their mother patrolled outside, never straying too far.

Rabbits scurried left and right. Squirrels leapt from tree to tree, their only concern being the safe transport of their food. More birds were gliding at a higher altitude, too far away to identify, but also hunting for food.

Then there were the people. Children carried water buckets from a cobbled communal well, giggling and splashing one another as they hurried home to see who could get there first.

Some full-grown Gnomes could be seen mowing lawns, trimming hedges, and potting all kinds of plants. While others lounged on towels and woollen rugs, enjoying a beautiful summer's day. One gnome was even singing, oblivious to the gawking neighbours.

Yes, the Ranar were in paradise without a care in the world, and the thought troubled Tark. 'Isn't our species going extinct? They're acting like nothing's wrong.'

Tarquin's smile faltered, but only for a moment. Then he magicked a picnic table and gestured around. 'Maybe two hundred years ago, I would have said yes. but as you can see, this lot mate like rabbits.'

Coop was the first to sit and he was so hungry, he almost tipped the bowl of boiling soup down his face.

Tark grabbed a piece of crusty bread but didn't tear his eyes away from the other two as he sat nibbling. 'So, you're all fine. But, what now? How do you plan to deal with Kalroth? There's no way she's going to let you do what you want.'

Tarquin grimaced, then waited for his boss to speak. Unfortunately, Farline wasn't immediately forthcoming.

'They don't have a plan,' answered Coop with his mouth full. 'Right?'

'We don't need one.' Corrected the elder gnome.

'Because?'

Farline stared blankly at Tark and then Coop. 'Because Kalroth doesn't know we're here. And so long as the Dread Witch's attention lies elsewhere, we'll be fine.'

'But, everyone beyond this place...'

Tarquin's smile didn't reach his eyes. 'You speak as though their number is significant. What's a couple hundred thousand compared to the millions living here? And in any case, we send out invitations for people to join us. You're the case in point.'

Farline nodded, eager to add weight to his underling's argument. 'The Gnome species will prosper, thanks to good old-fashioned magic and everyone living here.'

Tark stood. 'I can't just leave the rest of our people out there. Tell me, honoured friends. If I were to return with others, would you grant them sanctuary too?'

Tarquin clicked his fingers and the food trolley and furniture vanished. 'We cannot risk it. If you leave us now, you can't come back.'

Coop scratched his beard as he waited for a chance to speak. 'Brother, a word, if you will,' he gestured for Tark to follow then poked him in the eye. 'Only grass knows how we made it here safely, even with their help, and now you want to return to our porcelain prison?'

'I don't want to do anything of the kind. I just can't start a life in this place whilst knowing how the others suffer. What makes us so special?'

Farline had been eavesdropping and quickly held up two purple-stone necklaces. 'If you are to leave so soon after arriving, I understand. Take these.' 

Coop brushed off the goodwill gesture and punched his brother. 'What's to understand? We're finally safe!'

'Not me.' Tark sighed.

Farline cleared his throat. 'The curse will remain inactive so long as you wear these, but if you remove them for any reason, you'll have sixty minutes to put them back on.'

Tark clapped his hands. 'Game changer.'

'Until someone rips it from your damn neck.'

'Come on, Coop, I need you. We can do this. We can save them all.'

'Maybe,' hissed the gnome. 'But, we only have two necklaces, and short of killing Kalroth, I don't see a way to win.'

Tark studied the Ranar settlement again. He couldn't help but marvel at what his life might have been. Animal-driven carts rocketed by overhead, their magic-wielding controllers shouting spells that seemed designed to accelerate, turn and slow. The gnome followed the majestic creature to the horizon, beyond the farmstead he'd noticed earlier, where one massive bridge was floating to a new position over the ever-glistening river.

'I would like to have seen more.'

Coop clapped his hands in triumph. 'If we step through the portal again, you can wave that opportunity goodbye.'

Tark spun to glimpse the pleading look in his brother's eyes and grinned. 'What are you, Coop, a chicken?'