"And seventeen minutes," I added.
"Okay, so that will leave us with more than a week to search the area after we arrive. That should be plenty of time, right?"
"I'm not so sure," I said. "Tiri's circle encompasses half a mountain range and part of a forest. That's a lot of ground to search."
"Do you think she's all right?" Coll interrupted. "Tiri, I mean. It's really not like her to say she'd meet us and then not turn up."
"I'm sure she's fine." Benin waved a hand as though Coll's concern was a particularly irritating fly. "She probably just got her nose stuck in a book and lost track of time."
The warrior's face fell at his companion's lack of concern. I couldn't tell if the mage was genuinely that cold or just putting on a brave face, but I added, "He's right. She seems like a capable woman."
"She's certainly shown that she can take care of herself," Ket agreed.
But Coll was still frowning. "Maybe I should go back and find her."
"That's up to you," I told him. "But you'd best decide quickly. It's time for us to leave."
To the others, I said, "Keep an eye out for any sign of pursuit by the Guild. And for local wildlife. I don't want any more nasty surprises like that monster owl last night."
Everyone agreed. Benin rolled up the map and started putting everything back in his bag, frowning when his hand brushed against a chemsphere and came away muddy. There was an air of tension, of eagerness. This was a challenge, but we were ready for it.
We'd just have to push ourselves and the gnomes to the very limits of their endurance.
Thirty
Gnomads
Corey
It turned out the limit of the gnomes' endurance was far greater than that of the humans.
At first Coll and Benin were practically dawdling, slowing their pace so as not to leave the rest of us behind, while the gnomes—barely a fifth of the humans’ size—pushed themselves hard. Eleven hours later, the gnomes were sweating and clearly exhausted, but nowhere near as much as Benin and Coll.
The mage was dripping with sweat. The aura of heat in which he'd been so smugly enwreathed that morning was gone, and he seemed to welcome the still-pouring rain that cooled him even as it drenched his clothes and plastered his hair to his skull. He was limping, a result of several new blisters he hadn't ceased complaining about, and the hem of his red robes was stained dark with mud. Now that darkness had fallen again, I'd moved as high as my newly limited SOI allowed in an attempt to escape his whining; from up here he looked like a child's figurine that had been partly dipped in brown paint.
A tiny spark on his right shoulder indicated that Bekkit was hitching a ride with the mage. The emberfox was hunched on his other shoulder. From what I'd seen of their relationship so far, I suspected this new closeness was not out of affection on the fox’s part but simply a desire to be as far from the sucking quagmire as possible. Tiny spots of darker red on Benin's robes showed that his familiar's claws had drawn blood, but unlike every other hardship, the mage tolerated this one without complaint.
Predictably, Coll had been far more stoic than his companion, but I could tell the sustained march was already having an effect on him as well. Where before he'd been deliberately dawdling so as not to pull too far ahead of the gnomes on their much shorter legs, now he seemed to be struggling just to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
He'd probably be fine if only he'd take off that damned chainmail.
Squelching sounds whenever he moved suggested the padding and clothes underneath his mail were soaked, and probably had been since we'd set out the day before.
I'm glad I don't have a sense of smell. This lot must already be smelling pretty ripe.
At the vanguard, Longshank was driving the first wagon. He raised a hand to signal the halt to those behind him, then reined in Blaze the badger. The convoy came to a stuttering halt, and I heard more than a few sighs of relief. Some of the marchers dropped down onto the ground where they'd stopped, but not so many as yesterday. The others remained on their aching feet, waiting for instructions from their group leaders.
"I'm proud of you, Corey." Warmth flowed across our bond. "I know how frightened you were of the surface. But when it came to it, you did what needed to be done."
"Thanks, Ket. I'm proud of me, too."
She rolled her eyes, but it was true. I was coping way better than I'd expected. Being under the cover of darkness and then sheltered by trees probably helped some, but even still. I still felt stupidly vulnerable without the safety of thick rock walls and ceiling, and I doubted I'd ever feel anything but uncomfortable at the sight of so much open sky, but for my first time above ground—ever—I was doing pretty amazingly.
"When you're quite finished basking in your own achievements," she said dryly, "maybe take a moment to appreciate how well your denizens are doing too?"
"They're much hardier than the humans, I'll give them that."
"Yes, but there's more. Not a single one of them has lost their boots today!"
I looked more closely. The sprite was right. The marching gnomes had used twine to tie their boots more tightly around their ankles, ensuring they were not so easily forsaken to the greedy mud. Others had stuffed theirs with rags to make them fit more snugly. At the rear of the convoy, Swift and Cheer's ever-present sack remained empty, to the opportunistic pair’s obvious disappointment.
If only I could send them out to scout with the others. These two need to be kept busy. Alas, the Scout ability cost mana to use on any gnome that didn't have the scout vocation. I'd have to come up with something else
