Leo leaned toward Harlada. “Oh no, that worked too well—”

  The Gnomes launched into furious shrieking.

  “WE ARE NOT DECORATIONS!”

  “WE ARE A PROUD PEOPLE!”

  “WE DO NOT HOLD TINY HOES AND SMILE WHIMSICALLY!”

  From the Wizards:

  “Oh look!”

  “Real ones!”

  “Do they grant wishes? Should we water them?!”

  The Gnomes lost their souls.

  That was it.

  That was the line.

  “WATER US?!” shrieked Gnome #1.

  “YOU ABSOLUTE VEGETABLES!” screamed Gnome #2.

  “I WILL BITE YOUR KNEES!” declared Gnome #3.

  Then the gnomes charged.

  A tiny war cry exploded behind the trio:

  “FOR THE HONOR OF SHORT-KINGS!”

  Leo, Harlada, and Bert dove against the wall as the three furious gnomes stormed past them like knee-high berserkers.

  The Wizards peeked around the corner.

  “Ohhh!” said one. “They have little hats!”

  “Are they collectible?” asked another.

  “Can we trade them?” wondered the third.

  The Gnomes screamed in pure, incandescent rage and launched themselves at the Wizards with the fury of a thousand lawn ornaments given life and anger.

  The corridor erupted into chaos.

  High-pitched wizard shrieks.

  High-pitched gnome battle cries.

  Magic.

  Spoons.

  Sparkles.

  Possibly biting.

  Bert wiped sweat off his forehead.

  “That was… horrifying.”

  Harlada nodded. “But effective.”

  Leo gasped, “We… we might be geniuses.”

  A wizard screamed, “STOP BITING ME—YOU’RE CHIPPING MY AURA!”

  A gnome shrieked, “YOU WATER ME AGAIN AND I SWEAR—I SWEAR—I WILL LIVE IN YOUR SHOES!”

  ***

  The corridor behind them was an eruption of chaos.

  Sparks.

  Screams.

  Spoon-strikes.

  Spellfire ricocheting off walls in fluorescent zigzags.

  A wizard yelling, “STOP TRYING TO LIVE IN MY HAT!”

  The trio didn’t move.

  They stood absolutely still, backs pressed against the wall, eyes wide.

  Leo whispered, “We… we just wait. We wait and see who wins.”

  Harlada nodded.

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  “Let natural selection handle this.”

  Bert swallowed. “Is that ethical?”

  Leo answered immediately: “YES.”

  So they watched.

  The battle raged for nearly thirty seconds — which, for tiny hyper-aggressive creatures and intoxicated spellcasters, seemed like an eternity.

  One wizard tried casting a spell and accidentally set his own hat on fire.

  One gnome clung to a robe and screamed battle hymns in its victim’s face.

  Another wizard attempted diplomacy and was immediately punched in the kneecap.

  Then—

  With a final pffft of magical smoke and a high-pitched “ow,” everything fell silent.

  The corridor was a wreck.

  Two gnomes lay sprawled in unconscious, furious heaps.

  Three wizards lay twitching, smoking, and groaning, one of them quietly whispering “my aura… they stole my aura…”

  And in the very center, panting like a marathon runner in a furnace, stood the last surviving gnome.

  One hat missing.

  One shoe gone.

  One eye twitching violently.

  It raised its tiny spoon triumphantly.

  “I…

  AM…

  VICTO—”

  Harlada was already running.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  Didn’t think.

  Didn’t breathe.

  She simply sprinted full speed, leapt into the air, and delivered a flying kick directly to the victorious gnome’s chest.

  THWACK

  The gnome shot down the corridor like a bearded meteor.

  It disappeared into the shadows—

  —and a distant SCHPLUT echoed as it hit an unseen wall somewhere far, far away.

  Silence.

  Leo blinked. “Wow.”

  Bert whispered, “…he flew so far.”

  Harlada dusted off her boot.

  “There,” she said calmly. “Fight resolved.”

  Leo nodded, impressed and terrified. “You… you had that planned?”

  “Nope,” Harlada said. “But I hated that spoon.”

  She turned toward the path ahead.

  She got a thumbs up from Bert.

  ***

  “Let’s move. Before someone—”

  Leo raised a finger. “Wait.”

  Bert nodded solemnly. “Loot.”

  Harlada blinked.

  “Oh. Right. Yes. Loot.”

  The three of them tiptoed back toward the battlefield, stepping carefully around unconscious wizards, unconscious gnomes, and one still-smoking hat.

  Leo crouched beside a wizard. “Okay… what do we have…”

  He rummaged through the robes.

  “A bag of herbs.”

  Bert leaned over. “Healing?”

  Leo opened it.

  Sniffed.

  Immediately jerked back.

  “No. Absolutely not healing. These are… recreational.”

  Bert nodded. “Wizard herbs.”

  Harlada rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

  Bert knelt beside a gnome, searching through its tiny vest pockets.

  He pulled out:

  – a spoon sharpened to an illegal point

  – a miniscule grappling hook

  – a pouch full of glitter

  – and another bag of herbs.

  He held it up. “Gnome herbs.”

  Leo blinked. “Why do they all carry herbs?”

  Harlada opened a third pouch.

  Her eyes widened.

  “More herbs.”

  She looked at the pile.

  “Are we looting… a travelling backyard festival?”

  Bert shrugged. “It’s the Maze. Everyone copes differently.”

  Leo stuffed the herbs into his pack.

  “Fine. Maybe we can use them later.”

  Harlada raised an eyebrow.

  “For what?”

  Leo opened his mouth.

  Closed it.

  Looked away.

  “No idea.”

  Bert pocketed the tiny grappling hook. “Mine.”

  Harlada picked up the sharpened spoon.

  She stared at it.

  “This is a crime.”

  “But useful?” Leo offered.

  Harlada sighed. “…possibly.”