At my mental nudge, the boulderskin—a formidable mixture of amphibious olm and armored millipede—slipped into the water. Flattening its body as much as possible, it positioned itself in front of Bruce. Every part of the boulderskin was submerged, apart from the stony-gray carapace of its back, waiting invitingly like an enormous stepping stone.
Gneil gulped again, then urged Bruce onward. The badger tossed his head once in protest, as if to say “On your head be it, two-legs”, then crept tentatively forward. I heard my acolytes’ teeth chatter as the wheels of the chariot rolled over the carapace’s bumpy surface.
It’s either this or drowning, I told them.
It was a matter of moments for the boulderskin to transport them across the floodplain. Its clawed feet walked smoothly on the waterlogged ground, and by the next flash of lightning it had deposited them safely on the muddy ramp. The acolytes let out a collective sigh of relief as Gneil guided Bruce back onto firm(ish) ground.
Two of the forrels there tied the safety ropes to the yoke, and the gnomes waiting above were able to take most of the weight from Bruce, allowing the badger to scramble up while they hauled the chariot behind him. It was Longshank’s group, I realized; the hunter had stayed near the exit to make sure everyone made it out safely.
I commanded the forrels and boulderskin to follow us. Bekkit had told me my Sphere would stop contracting once it reached the size it had been at tier one; maybe if the god-born stayed inside it, they’d remain in existence.
But even as I thought it, the boulderskin dissipated. No noise, no pain—just there one moment and gone the next. The nearest forrel turned to smoke, immediately followed by the one beside it, until my god-born were no more.
“Time to go, Corey.” Ket’s voice was soft. Sad. Together, we took one last look back at the place I’d finally come to think of as home.
The shroomtree field where Gneil had first found me. The piled-stone altar upon which I’d experienced my first taste of worship (and dreaded sunlight). The lumberyard, the first building I’d ever constructed, and for which it had taken the late Jack and Elwood a ridiculous number of days to fell enough trees to build.
The Grotto’s very existence was the culmination of months of effort, not to mention gnomish blood, sweat and tears. Now we’d been forced to abandon everything and embark on a perilous journey in the blind hope of finding something better.
Time remaining for Exodus: 959 hours, 32 minutes, 4 seconds
I turned my back on all we’d built, heading for the surface and into the unknown.
Twenty-Five
Interlude
Fall, 521 PC
I have failed.
Though the druidic arts have ever come naturally to me, and the storm I coaxed into existence was fierce enough to make the Storm Gods take note, it was not enough. The target has taken flight above ground rather than being driven below, and now I must await further instructions from V.
Though my wounds are healed, the agony lingers, and the loss of flesh and bone haunts me, I am no longer consumed by the raging fever. Though the nightmares of my time down in the abyss consume me in a different way, and just as viciously.
There is no longer anyone in whom to confide, and I write these things down in an attempt to structure the chaos of my thoughts and to cleanse myself of at least a modicum of the torment that engulfs me. Though I hadn’t thought to ever again find myself at V’s beck and call, yet here I am once more. If I didn’t know he served a greater purpose, I would have turned my back on his dirty work long ago. But now I only worry that I have failed in my task.
V’s vendetta against this purple Core seems somehow personal. I know not why he wants the remnants of this particular race expunged, but he speaks of this Core with far more fervor than I have seen in him before, as though it somehow holds the key to his search. And I just squandered my opportunity to drive it straight down into his ally’s hands.
I would have simply taken it myself but for the two Guild members accompanying it. Traitors. Not only did they abandon me down in the darkness, they now deprive me of the opportunity to prove myself worthy.
I’m no fool. I know what happens to agents who fail to serve V’s purposes. I myself have already felt the consequences of outliving my usefulness, though V has since denied that was his intent. I must not fail again.
I am just one agent. But I have something the others do not. My secret weapon. I discovered them. They’re mine.
I made a grave error in entrusting one to another of V’s agents. He squandered it. They all died. Killed by the Core’s minions. A tragedy, and a waste. A tragic waste.
Henceforth only I will use them. And use them I will.
I no longer trust V.. Like me, he serves the Lord of Light. Unlike me, he does so through a selfish desire for power and eternal life. A small man with smaller goals.
I desire only to serve the Lord of Light, and as V told me long ago, the Lord of Light serves the world.
It is filled with corruption, with heretical advancements and vile technology and industry. Though they call it ‘advancement’, it pollutes and corrupts, stunting minds as well as nature. The old ways—of faith—are fading. But He will restore the world to the way it was. The way it ought to be.
For now, I will continue to help V in his search for our god. But when we find him, I will prove beyond doubt that I am the more devoted servant.
False gods and vile technology, all will be purged.
The humans will pay. They abandoned me, and they will pay. They will regret abandoning me.
They will regret everything.
Twenty-Six
Going Overground
Corey
The first time the
