The Chronicles of Kenrick

Chapter Twelve

“Do not move human, or you will be slain like the beasts before your feet!


“Did you think that it would be that easy for you to escape? Only one thing can cut your straps.” Kenrick looked at the gnome speaking, realising it was the same one that had taken charge over him. He let the hilt fall to the sand and watched the gnome turn to the group of survivors, a mere fifteen huddled around a fallen gnome. A deep silence was just now recognized.


The gnome gasped, as did the few that stood behind him. They sheathed their weapons and ran to the crowd. The leading gnome pushed his way through, opening a gap large enough Kenrick could see from where he stood.


“My chief,” The gnome fell to his knees, sliding through the sand, stopping inches from the chief’s still body. The blood that had soaked into the sand began to seep into the gnome’s leggings.


From Kenrick’s vantage, he could see a spread of blood across the older gnome’s chest and neck, several long gashes welling blood.


“My chief, how can I ease your pain?”


Empty eyes stared into the sky and for several seconds the gnome chief ignored the younger gnome. After several moments of heart –pounding silence, the gnome chief slowly acknowledged his presence. His eyes darted across the younger man’s face until they met his eyes where tears welled inside.


“Don’t cry my Gowan, for I finally get to meet Omerean and that eases my pain.” A smile marked the chief’s lips. A white sheen spread beneath the perspiration across his face.


“Hear me,” The cry welled from deep inside the chief, causing blood to well up more rapidly from his chest. A revered silence covered the dune-bowl, all eager to hear their chief’s last words.


“I proclaim Deverell, son of my loins, Farell, clan chief over the eighth Garrome tribe, and the heir of my rights. Take him as your leader, forgo the Tunnel Trial. It is my wish,” Struggling, Farell pulled the silver knife from the same pocket he had been hiding it in. Slowly he dipped it into the blood bubbling from his chest and violently, even before the crowd could gasp, slid the blade along Deverell’s arm and held it into the shallow cut for several seconds.


“Take the blade my son. Remember...” Farell’s words trailed off and his eyes closed for just a moment before they reopened. He looked into his son’s eyes. “Remember Omerean’s Plight, he cannot be forsaken.”


Ever so slowly, Deverell took the blade from his father’s worn hands and looked at the mixing bloods. The crowd saw an influential Deverell kneeling before them, while the blade reflected an apprehensive gnome against the sunlight’s glare. The new gnome chief glanced down once more.


Whispering, Farell spent his last breath. “I hope he is happy with me,”


At the moment of his father’s death, Deverell leapt to his feet and charged towards Kenrick, holding the blood-coated blade outright before him. The crowd parted for their chief.


“And now, to finish this nonsense.”


Deverell ran forward, every stride taking him closer to Kenrick’s demise. As he reached the last open sand before the human, a blast of light careened into the gnome, sending him crashing to the side, sprawling him out like a child’s doll. He quickly got to his feet, unnerved by the powerful shock. Blade clutched in his hand.








A. The last cloaked gnome wobbled, its hands outstretched, still pointing at Deverell, blood soaking its cloak.


B. A clamouring of voices rose over the dunes walls, muffled footsteps erupted into the air as an army of figures crowned the dunes.








Brock Sansome


Author of The Spheres of Caddock series and the interactive web-based novel The Chronicles of Kenrick.


www.brocksansome.com