He wasn’t kidding.
Now that I knew there was no immediate danger, I finally registered the glowing text overlaid upon my surroundings.
Ark complete!
New ability unlocked: Exodus
I thought again of the blueprint, of the gilded ark with its seamless joins and swirling decor, then looked at the gnomes’ wobbly casket.
Nailed it.
It looked like a toybox made by blind squirrels. The carpenters hadn’t even aligned the wooden panels properly; the grain of each panel ran in a different direction to that of the one beside it, and I could already tell the lid wasn’t going to fit.
The interior was lined with twigs and bits of wool and thatch, as if awaiting a nest of sparrows rather than a powerful crystal with god-like abilities, and the carvings on the outside were a bizarre mix of childish doodles and obscene graffiti.
I would have been more miffed by the results had my prior experiences with the altar and shrine not lowered my expectations to manageable levels. As it was, I just sighed at the wonky ark. It will do.
I took my first proper look at the new ability that would either save us all or doom us to extinction.
Exodus
Faith-based ability
Duration: 960 hours
When activated, prompts all Faithful denizens to leave their base and travel in a direction of your choosing.
Warning: Failure to establish a new base while the ability is still active will result in the loss of all accumulated Faith.
Prerequisite(s): Ark
“But where would we go?” I’d asked earlier.
There were several places we could go. My first instinct was to retreat further underground. This ‘Guildmaster’ was a surface-dweller; surely we could foil his ambitions simply by traveling to the darkest places beyond his reach.
However, Benin and Bekkit both voiced their suspicions that Varnell had somehow been in league with Grimrock. If that were true, then he could probably reach us no matter how far down we went, and we might even have been walking into a trap—not to mention that the coming floods would probably also find us there.
So, it had to be the surface. Coll floated the idea of throwing ourselves on the mercy of the wider Guild, but Benin shot him down straight away. Varnell would never permit us to get that close, and besides, all adventurers were taught about Cores’ supposed “innate malevolence.” They were much more likely to smash me with hammers than offer me succor, and the gnomes would likely end up in some zoo, or as specimens in a lab or museum.
In the end, only one option promised the remotest chance of us not being wiped out.
The hand-drawn circle on Tiri’s map stood out against the mountains, beckoning like a halo of promise. The others had estimated it would take us thirty days to reach its outer edges, but the area it covered was enormous. Would we really find the gnomes’ former civilization before the rest of our time was up?
Responsibility weighed upon me like a lead cloak. If I made the wrong decision, everything we’d worked for would be for naught. I gazed down at my faithful flock, paralyzed by uncertainty.
The clothiers had set up shop on the higher ground of the village and were using lanolin to waterproof boots and rain capes. Perhaps they were motivated by the heavy clouds that darkened the sun more and more as the day went on, or maybe they’d somehow gleaned that travel was on the horizon.
The builders’ other projects might have clued them in. Bekkit had also shared the blueprint for crafting basic wagons—which would be much more efficient than the makeshift travois my workers currently used for transporting heavy loads—as well as a chariot to hold the ark and its contingent of acolytes.
As always, the shroomwood farm filled our construction needs; the caps of smaller trees even served as ready-made wheels. I made a joke about portable mushrooms. No one laughed, not even when I patiently explained that it was a pun on the word “portabello.”
Clearly sensing the way things were going, a few of my more perceptive denizens were also making preparations for their own mobility. Longshank had pilfered a tent peg from the humans and lashed it to the scarred stump of his thigh; the peg leg made him look even more like a pirate captain than usual, but he was limping now rather than hobble-hopping, which seemed to make him happier.
Meanwhile, Swift and Cheer were adorning themselves with what looked like every single item they owned. Each was sweating under the weight of the (useless) possessions now hanging from them, yet they persisted in adding more until they looked like a pair of wandering garbage vendors.
Nice to see them taking their scavenger role seriously.
Over in the barracks, Hammer and Graywall had abandoned the flood defenses and were instead drilling their warriors yet again in the new signaling system.
I’d made the suggestion to use signals after the battle; if we were ever to find ourselves in a similar situation again (which I fervently hoped we would not), I needed a more efficient way to communicate battle commands to my fighting forces. Possession was a costly ability, and the less time I had to spend using it, the better. Moreover, the signals had also been taught to Gneil and my acolytes, meaning I could use Divine Inspiration to convey orders if I really needed to.
“They’re ready.” Ket was a warm presence at my side as we surveyed the diligent gnomes and their loaded wagons. Three of the Grotto’s badgers were already yoked, and the fourth—Flea, naturally—was finally allowing himself to be coaxed into his harness. “They’ve come a long way, and they’re prepared to take the next step. To do what they must to survive.”
I knew she was right. And yet…
“How can I do this? Uproot them from their home? And based on what? A bit of water? A hunch from a human who isn’t even here?”
All my fears were suddenly bubbling to the surface and spilling out of
