But that was a problem for future Corey. Right now, we had to focus on what was directly in front of us and keep looking forward.
Time remaining for Exodus: 5 days, 13 hours, 59 minutes
The humans’ map had been correct. After finally emerging from the trees, we pushed on through the evening and night, crossing a series of blessedly flat grassy meadows until we finally reached the river in the shadow of the mountains. They loomed before us now, the rays of the rising sun dusting their peaks with misty golden halos.
Coll and Benin caught up with us just as we reached the river. I was shocked to see Ajax accompanying them, since the last I’d seen of the gnomish warrior he was disappearing down the Marsh Zolom’s gullet. I was even more shocked when they regaled us with the tale of his rescue.
“It was Benin’s idea to save Ajax? Really?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” The mage’s usual bitterness was already returning to his voice, the hint of a sneer curling his lip.
Just as being a God Core had changed me, I’d noticed that accompanying us on the exodus seemed to have gradually changed Benin as well. At first he’d been quick to complain, quick to mock, and quick to—well, quick to do anything negative and unhelpful. But in recent days, he’d seemed a little more relaxed, more patient, and even willing to smile. He seemed happier with who he was becoming, and I did not want to be the one responsible for making him revert to his old moody, peevish self.
“Not hard at all,” I lied. “I just… I feel bad that I didn’t even consider it an option.”
That last part was no lie. Ever since laying eyes on Ajax I’d felt a gnawing guilt at how I’d abandoned him without a second thought. It compounded the worry and responsibility that was weighing me down as a whole. I’d sworn to keep the gnomes safe, yet I’d accepted this one’s death as given the instant he disappeared from my sight. What kind of god was I?
“You also grieved for him, Corey,” Ket reminded me. “You weren’t unaffected by his loss. You’re not a monster. You simply had to prioritize the rest of your denizens.”
“You can’t do everything on your own,” Benin surprised me by saying. He looked uncomfortable, but the sympathy in his voice was undeniable.
“Yup. That’s why you’ve got us!” added Coll.
“Indeed,” added Bekkit.
I swallowed, a sudden rush of emotion making it difficult to speak. Luckily, I was spared the need by a minor commotion at the water’s edge.
The gnomish fishers were going wild. They’d dropped their fishing tackle, the better to clap and cheer, and were currently off their tiny faces with surprised delight. I immediately saw why.
One of the fishers had managed to land a river eel. In his excitement he’d lost control of it, and now it was making a break for freedom, sidewinding its way along the grassy bank. The fisher called to the nearest warrior—who happened to be Ajax—who then, to everyone’s surprise, scurried over to Coll. Ajax patted the human’s knee, then gestured at the wriggling eel, miming what was without doubt meant to be a hammer blow. He gave a half bow, as though inviting Coll to proceed with some great honor.
Coll glanced around at us all, then shrugged and strode forward, bringing his hammer down on the rogue eel. I expected an explosion of scales and fish-guts. Instead, the eel’s entire body went rigidly straight, as though upon death it had snapped to attention.
While the gnomish fishers rejoiced, calling over the cooks to remove the corpse and prepare its bounty for later feasting, Coll inspected his hammer’s head, which I now saw was tinted with grains of blue powder.
“All hail Mr. Stiff,” sniggered Benin.
“You know, that’s a good name for a hammer,” said Coll thoughtfully.
“You’re right,” I said. “As God Core of this tribe, let it be known that this great weapon shall henceforth be referred to as Mr. Stiff!”
The cooks chose that particular moment to cheer. They were clearly rejoicing at the sight of the dead eel, but Benin fell about laughing nonetheless.
“When do you intend for us to cross the river?” asked Ket, keen to change the subject.
Since we’d traveled through the night without rest, I’d decided to give my denizens a little down time. Time was running out, but morale and stamina had both taken a hit and we’d be more likely to succeed if my scouts and scavengers were operating at full capacity.
“I’ll send the scouts across this afternoon,” I told the sprite. “The scavengers too. I’ll have them comb the mountainside for cave entrances. For now, though, they need to rest awhile.”
“And bathe,” she agreed, pinching her nose.
The river was quite deep—at the middle of the shallowest crossing even Ajax would have to swim—and the far side was all rocks and gravel. I decided there was no harm in remaining camped on the grass until the time came to move.
Apparently the gnomes weren’t the only ones who needed baths. At Gneil’s suggestion, the badgers waded into the river to rinse off the muck of the swamp. My high cleric and the scouts went over them with combs and brushes to make sure the more caked-on filth came off. Meanwhile the acolytes each picked up an owlet and took them to the water’s edge, gently cleaning their feathers of algae and brown water. The young owls thanked them by squawking with outrage and pecking their hands viciously.
When they were done, and the hoot-hoots were huddled once again on the wagon, preening their bedraggled feathers and muttering crossly to themselves, the acolytes went off to bathe themselves, though I spotted one of them behaving rather oddly.
One of the acolytes, Gnils, was crouched
