Exodus of Gnomes (God Core #2) - A Dungeon Core LitRPG

by Demi Harper

  It was locked.

  Of course it's locked. It's a prison.

  Three seconds' examination of her surroundings revealed a ring of keys hanging from a nail in the wall beside the door. With some skepticism, she tried a few of them until the door's lock responded and clicked open.

  This... is too easy.

  Easy? It was downright suspicious, is what it was. But what else could she do but proceed?

  She found Coll in the third cell on the left. The big man was slumped against the back wall, rubbing his head, but he sat up straight when he heard the key turn in the lock.

  "Tiri?!"

  She hurried into the cell to help him as he struggled to his feet. He waved her off, muttering something about passive fighter skills and minimal concussion debuffs. She leaned in closer. It was true; his pupils looked fine.

  Good. She punched him on the arm.

  "What did you do?" she whispered fiercely. She nodded toward the open cell door and Coll trooped out, obedient as ever.

  "Ben needed a familiar, him being a mage and all, so I helped him break into the Menagerie and steal one."

  She froze in the middle of re-locking the cell door, then whirled to face him. "You what?!"

  "Ben needed a fam—"

  She shushed him with a gesture. Shaking her head, she silently led Coll from the cells, making sure to lock the main door and replace the keys behind them.

  Once her anger was under control, she asked, "Where is Benin now?"

  "The safe house. Probably."

  The warrior stumbled on the stairs. She rolled her eyes and propped him up with her shoulder, groaning a little beneath the weight of muscle and stupidity.

  Thankfully, the main hall was empty. A small part of Tiri's mind registered how unusual that was for this time in the morning; it should have been full of Guild members coming and going from the breakfast hall, either freshly wakened and seeking food or else hurrying back to their dorms to grab what belongings they needed for the classes or activities ahead of them.

  Perhaps there's some kind of event. An early seminar, perhaps?

  Whatever the reason, it gave them the opportunity to leave the hall unnoticed.

  Once they were outside, both of them squinting in the bright sunlight, Tiri tugged on Coll's arm until he followed her around the corner and behind a topiary hedge pruned in the shape of a wyvern.

  "I need you to do something very important." She began to rummage in her satchel. "Remember the purple Core? The gnomes?"

  He pursed his lips. "I didn't hit my head that hard."

  "Good. You know how I said it was odd that we found them in such a shoddy cave? Well, I've been researching the history of gnomes, and I think I've found the location of the last-known gnomish civilization. Or at least the general vicinity of where it was rumored to be. They were very insular, you see, and— are you even listening?"

  "Ye-es?"

  She sighed. "It doesn't matter." She pulled out the sheaf of notes she'd written while in the library. "Take these to Benin. He'll figure it out when he reads them. There are notes in there from spell theory books that should help him come up with a means for you to communicate with the Core this time, too."

  Coll reached out and took hold of the papers, but she didn't let go. A soft breeze had picked up, and she had a sudden vision of Coll in the middle of a field somewhere clumsily chasing down the precious papers he'd somehow managed to let loose.

  After a moment's thought she bent over her satchel again. She unwrapped the blanket from Lila's journal, taking care to place the precious book back in her bag, then wrapped her own papers in the blanket, knotting it tightly before handing it over to Coll. The papers would crease and probably tear, but at least they'd arrive in one piece.

  "Both of you need to go immediately to the purple Core with a warning. The Guildmaster is hunting it. The gnomes aren't safe."

  "The Guildmaster is hunting it. The gnomes aren't safe," repeated Coll.

  "Right." She met his eyes. "This is really important, Coll," she said. "Warn the Core. I'll join you both there soon. I just have a few more things I need to look into here."

  "What things?"

  "I'm not sure, but I think there's something deeper going on here, and the Guildmaster is somehow involved. I should only be another day or so. I just need to make sure we're not missing some vital piece of information. But we all need to hurry."

  He nodded. Then he lifted his head, sniffing the air. The scent of bacon was wafting through an open window. The warrior looked longingly toward it.

  Tiri smacked him on the arm again. "Coll! Go! Warn the Core, but then don't go anywhere until I join you. I need to be completely sure."

  He nodded again, rubbing his arm as he turned to leave.

  "Oh, and Coll? Tread carefully."

  He frowned back at her. "You think it'll be dangerous?"

  "Maybe, but I meant it literally. Please, please don't step on any gnomes. It would be a terrible shame if they survived the Cataclysm only to have the last remnants of their race extinguished by your boots."

  Fourteen

  From Any Direction

  Corey

  The stone wobbled, then fell to the ground. One of my acolytes gave it a sideways glance as it rolled past him, then shrugged and returned to his worship.

  Ris'kin reached a hand-paw toward the shrine again.

  “Stop that!” I said crossly.

  Her ears twitched. She yawned. Then, slowly, deliberately, she tipped the next stone from its place on the shrine and watched disinterestedly as it followed the other down the hillock.

  I expected my high cleric to reprimand her behavior, but Gneil didn't even look up. His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed almost to the ground.

  Is he asleep?

  "You're the worst high cleric ever," I told him.

  The last red light of sunset caught in the facets of my gem, throwing spots of purple-pink light across the dark mossy walls. The glowworms on the ceiling were starting to flare awake; their soft green luminescence was a counterpoint to the white-yellow fireflies dotting the sky above like a precursor to the night's stars.

  "What a lovely evening." Ket sighed and stretched, then reluctantly flitted away from her sunbathing spot atop my gem. Together, we looked down at Ris'kin, sulking beside my shrine. "What's up with her?"

  "She's annoyed I wouldn't let her go with the latest scouting party."

  Another stone went clattering down the hill. If she carried on like this there wouldn't be a shrine left for her to demolish.

  "How petty." Ket glanced at me. "I wonder where she gets it from.”

  “Rude.”

  “She’s your avatar. Literally the embodiment of your will.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  Ket narrowed her microscopically small eyes. I couldn’t see it, but I knew she was doing it. “I’m sorry, it sounds like you're griping about the time I saved all our butts. Tell me again how else you could have saved Gneil from that kobold back when he was your only worshiper."

  I didn't reply. I didn't need to. Making Ris'kin into my avatar had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, and at the time I'd been disgruntled it was the only choice I'd had.

  But she'd proved her usefulness many times over, even sacrificing herself to protect the tribe, and Ket and I both knew that I wouldn't change her for the world.

  Well. I wouldn't swap her. I'd changed her plenty—all for the better, and all thanks to a little ability called Evolution.

  She'd started as a humble forrel. Since then I'd evolved her many times, adding aspects of different animals to enhance her original squirrel-fox build: she now had the regenerative abilities of a salamander, the toxin resistance of a badger, and now the extreme elemental resistance I'd gained from Binky's evolved blueprint. Ris'kin had proved vulnerable to the kobolds' fire during our last battle, and I was determined that would no longer be the case.

  Her features were still fox-like, though slightly sof
ter in appearance, her muzzle less pointed and more feline. The black-and-white stripes on each cheek streaked up to ears that were tall and tufted—evidence of her part-squirrel origins. From basic forrel to proud avatar, Ris’kin’s continual growth was like a physical manifestation of my own. We’d both evolved in our own ways; both grown smarter, stronger, more advanced as we assimilated our experiences—the failures as much as the successes.

  Another rock clattered down the hill.

  “I warned you not to use the cat’s blueprint,” murmured Ket. "Remember how much trouble we had getting it to leave?"

  “Actually, I think your exact words were ‘Do it! It’ll be cute!’,” I reminded her.

  I'd recently evolved Ris'kin again using strands of grass-cat DNA, which had further heightened her balance and reflexes. This had allowed her to traverse the more precarious terrain of the deeper caverns. It had also made her somewhat... obstinate.

  The next falling stone rolled to a stop against Gneil's leg. My high cleric jerked awake with a gasp and stared around, confused. He had dark bags under his eyes. He glanced up at the purpling sky, visible through the hole in the ceiling above us, then leapt at once to his feet.

  Gneil stumbled zombie-like down the hillock to his gnomehome. He'd stayed awake all night and day for some reason, and was now turning in at the same time he usually woke.

  He was so busy stretching and yawning he almost bumped into Hoppit, also on her way inside. Like she usually was at this time...

  Ohhhh. I get it now.

  Hoppit seemed surprised but delighted to find that Gneil was now sharing her sleeping pattern. The two of them lingered in the doorway; she rested her hand on his arm and laughed at something he'd said—or maybe just at the sight of him, to be honest; that seemed more likely—while he grinned sleepily, blushing.

  "Ket, d'you think priests are celibate?"

  "Some are. A lot of human priesthoods make it a requirement."

  Down in the doorway, Gneil and Hoppit were forced to move away from each other to make room for the two farmers emerging to begin their day's work. They caught sight of Gneil's delirious grin, then exchanged glances and went back inside the house. A moment later they re-emerged. Trailing after them, grumbling, were the other eight gnomes who dwelt in that particular home, all in varying states of rumpled sleepiness. Some headed to the altar or the lumberyard to start their shifts early, while others still swaddled in blankets dispersed into other homes, presumably to crash on the floor until their own time came to begin work.

  One of the farmers smirked at Gneil. The other clapped Hoppit on the back. Then both farmers headed to the shroomeries, leaving Gneil and Hoppit alone once more. Gneil's face was now kobold-red, and he stared at the ground, clearly mortified.

  "Do you think my priests are celibate?" I wondered.

  "Do you think they should be?"

  "No?"

  "Then they probably aren't."

  Gneil might have been embarrassed, but Hoppit was still smiling. She whispered something in Gneil’s ear. He managed to stutter an answer. She grinned even wider, then grabbed the front of his robe and pulled him through the doorway into the privacy of the empty gnomehome.

  "They definitely aren't," Ket amended.

  "Hopefully his experience in kneeling will serve him well." I sniggered.

  I felt a flush of embarrassment through our bond. The sprite sparked disapprovingly and quickly changed the subject.

  "Why did you make Ris'kin stay behind?"

  Her tone suggested she already knew. I braced myself for yet another argument.

  "She was made beneath the surface, Ket. Like me. Up there... it isn't our world. It isn't safe for us. For her."

  "It wasn't your world," she amended. "But that was a different life. A different time."

  "It's dangerous."

  "Everywhere is dangerous. Especially when you're a gnome. That's why they need Ris'kin's protection more than she needs yours."

  "But what if something happened to her? Like you said, we can't use the resurrection ritual again until—"

  "Corey, you can't just hide away and keep her close 'just in case' something happens," she snapped. "Besides, the surface surely isn't as dangerous as you think. Look how pretty the sky is!"

  I gazed up past Binky's many legs and through the ceiling hole. She was right; the sky was a deep indigo now, and the first stars were beginning to blink against the darkness. Later, when the moon was out in full, it would illuminate the strands of Binky's webs so that the stars seemed from this angle to be caught in their silver strands. It was a sight I'd admired before on many a clear night.

  What would it be like to go up there and see it all properly? The whole sky, and not just this tiny round slice of it?

  Maybe Ket's right. Maybe it isn't that dangerous after all.

  A dark shape suddenly appeared, silhouetted against the sky. Ket and I barely had time to shriek in surprise before it jumped into the hole, each of its four legs flailing wide like a frog diving into a pond.

  "Binky!" I cried as the new arrival crashed into the spider from above, driving them both toward the hillock below. They fell through web after web on their way down, slowing their momentum, until eventually they tumbled to the ground beside my shrine.

  Alerted by both my call and her own instincts, Ris'kin rolled out of the way easily, pushing the two acolytes to safety as well. Then she dived on Binky's attacker and with some difficulty hauled it off him.

  Flea the badger squirmed in my avatar's arms. She quickly let go of him when he started to lick her face, and he scurried back over to where Binky was unfolding himself from the heap he'd landed in. The spider's furry body already glistened with badger drool.

  Poor Binky seemed too shocked to make his usual quick exit. When Flea descended upon him once more, squealing with delight, he simply endured the badger's affections, occasionally poking the excitable creature with his front legs in a half-hearted attempt to fend him off.

  "See?" said Ket. "I told you: we have to be prepared. Threats can come from any direction—even above us."

  "I thought the surface wasn't as dangerous as I thought?" I grumbled.

  She was right, of course. But now that the false alarm was over, I couldn't help but relax again. My acolytes—having given Flea and Binky a wide berth—had resumed their worship. The farmers were at work carefully measuring the right amount of water to drip-feed their latest experiments. The clothiers had gotten their spindle to work and were even now knitting some sort of shapeless fleece garment that could as easily have been a sock as a hat.

  Everyone had their roles, and everything was running smoothly. We’d faced adversity and come through it a hundred times stronger. At times like this, I was almost convinced everything that happened before had been nothing more than a bad dream. There’d been no kobolds, no danger, no adventurers—

  Darkness blotted out the stars once more as another shape dropped through the hole. This one was much bigger; it fell heavily, and landed with an "Oof!" and a strange metallic jingle.

  "Seriously? Again?"

  Yet another figure had popped into view, peering down into the hole. I recognized the pale skin and longish mousy hair: Benin, the fire mage from the Guild.

  His companion—Coll, the windy warrior—hauled himself to his feet and brushed himself off. "It's not my fault I didn't see the entrance. It's dark!"

  Coll froze when he noticed my acolytes cringing on the opposite side of the shrine. "Sorry," he said to them, for some reason speaking in an exaggerated whisper. Then, more loudly: "Ow!"

  The little badger had sunk his teeth into the warrior's boot and was harassing it as best he could, growling all the while. Binky had reared up threateningly when Coll first appeared, but seeing that his stripy nemesis had things well in hand, the spider took the opportunity to sidle away.

  Gritting his teeth, the warrior turned to face my gem.

  "The Guildmaster is hunting you. The gnomes aren't safe," he blur
ted out.

  He recited the words without inflection, like a child that had memorized the message but not the meaning, yet they shattered my good humor entirely. Fear stabbed at me, though confusion dulled its blade somewhat.

  Through our bond, I sensed Ket’s own inner turmoil.

  "Told you the surface is dangerous," I muttered.

  Fifteen

  A Core Named Corey

  Benin

  Benin's whole body felt like a coiled spring as he waited for some kind of response from the Core.

  "Why isn't it saying anything?" hissed Coll through gritted teeth. His face was still fixed in an apologetic grimace. As well it should be. Bloody idiot.

  Frowning, Benin reached into his pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. He'd scribbled out bits of Tiri's neat handwriting and made notes of his own, and had been confident the cantrip would let them communicate with any physical presence of magic or divine origin.

  Perhaps it has a time limit?

  He went through it again, sketching out the required symbols with his free hand and muttering the arcane words under his breath.

  "—how you can dismiss such a threat, especially from those who've proved themselves to be our allies—"

  "I'm not dismissing it, I'm just saying we might not want to take it at face value. This guy's fallen through the exact same hole twice now. And we know the other one is a pyromaniac—"

  "Pyromancer!" said Benin loudly.

  The two voices he'd heard arguing fell suddenly silent. Coll was staring up at him, looking even more puzzled than usual. Benin felt heat flush his cheeks.

  He cleared his throat. "I'm a pyromancer," he said in a much more reasonable tone this time. "Mancer. Not maniac."

  "You can hear us?" The voice was tinkly yet sharp, small but fierce, like the shattering of a crystal champagne flute.

  "Obviously he can hear us." The second voice was deeper, a sarcastic drawl. An eyeroll in audio.