by Demi Harper
"Bekkit, if you please, boy." He sniffed.
"Yes, Bekkit, if you please," said Ket. "'Kit' is much too close to 'Ket,' thank you very much."
Benin frowned. "Who's Ket? I thought your name was Sparky."
The mage's shit-eating grin made him look younger than usual. He's really just a boy, I realized.
Ket fizzed in annoyance, but I could tell she wasn't truly angry. It seemed she had a soft spot for the pyro, and he for her.
The same could not be said for Bekkit. It didn't much matter to me how the exodus worked. I only cared that it did work. But Bekkit was clearly disgruntled to have been proved wrong by an upstart human, and was muttering to himself furiously.
"Perhaps it's because the humans were present when Exodus was activated," he speculated. "If it only affects those outside of its radius, it may recognize them as non-hostile. Part of the tribe, if you will. But then that would mean... hmm..."
"What if it's like a camouflage spell? A glamor?" offered Benin. "I’ve heard of enchantments that can make you less noticeable to natural predators."
“Interesting…”
That theory was shot down dramatically just seconds later when a darker shape swooped from the shadows of the trees. On instinct, I activated Insight.
Tiger Owl
Bird
This forest-dwelling raptor is Kelaria’s largest native owl species, and one of its fiercest hunters.
Like all owls, its ear openings are asymmetrical, enhancing its ability to triangulate the location of prey. The tiger owl also possesses excellent night vision; its amber eyes can detect movement from great distances, and it can rotate its head up to 270 degrees.
The tiger owl typically approaches its prey from above, swooping down on silent wings to snatch up small mammals and then crushing their bodies with the strength of its powerful talons after returning to the nest.
Its viciousness, along with its hornlike ear tufts (’plumicorns’), have earned it the nickname "devil owl."
With a squawk, it descended on Emrys's group at the convoy's edge with the speed of a plummeting stone.
Tiger Owl Status Marked As Hostile
A faint red aura appeared around the owl.
Hostile? You think?!
Binky was faster. As soon as he caught sight of the rapidly approaching threat, he reared up to his full height, his front four legs raised warningly in defense of his cart and its precious cargo of gnomish children. The flying shape flapped its wings in alarm; it clearly hadn't been counting on its prey having a giant arachnid guardian. Still it hovered, as though waiting for the right moment to dive again.
But Binky wasn't done. I thought he was going to attempt to shoot a web at the creature, though its position above would make aiming tricky, as would the strictures of the wagon's yoke, what with his spinnerets being located on his rear end and all.
The spider hissed threateningly, then did something entirely unexpected. He convulsed, like a cat about to vomit. But instead of a hairball, a wad of sticky whitish goop was propelled from his mandibled mouth. It arced across the space between them, looking like an egg sac launched from a catapult.
As I stared at the icky lump in disgusted fascination, the Augmentary's silvery text shimmered into being.
Spit
Arachnid ability
Spit fluid that congeals on contact, trapping the target in a sticky fluid of venom and liquid spidersilk produced in the chelicerae.
Range: 3 meters
Cooldown: 60 seconds (mana cost to use sooner)
Cost per additional use: 10 mana (currently unavailable)
Incredibly, the owl managed to dodge the projectile, but only just. The pearl-colored spit-bullet sailed off into the darkness and splatted against a tree with a faint sizzle.
Binky was preparing to follow up the missile with a Web Shoot, but the owl had had enough. Clearly deciding we weren't worth the hassle, it led out one more aggravated "Hoooo!" in Binky's direction before flapping off into the night.
"Holy shit. I didn't even see it coming." Benin stared around at the shadow-filled canopy, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the light from the gnomes' illumishrooms. "Hope it doesn't go and tell its friends where to find us. Aren't birds known for that?"
"That's bees," I told him.
"You don't have to be rude about it."
"No, bees. As in, bumble, honey, the birds and the, etcetera."
The mage said something else, but my attention drifted from the conversation as I took in the near-miss we'd just had. I was suddenly, overwhelmingly conscious of how small the gnomes were—how small we all were—compared to the rest of the world. If Binky hadn't reacted so quickly, that owl could easily have killed or carried off any one of my gnomes, and there was nothing we'd be able to do about it. It would be so easy for anything—a flock of owls, a herd of possums, even a pack of small voles—to tear through our ranks and wreak untold damage.
I refused to spiral into despair, though the weight of our task—my task—was already near unbearable. We needed to be more prepared. We'd been taken by surprise, but we'd made it out alive. Now we just had to stay that way. True, I didn't have my god-born. But we hadn't had them during the main part of the kobold battle either, and the gnomes had pulled through. They could do so again. I needed to take stock, to assess what they could do.
But first, they needed to rest and recover their strength.
"All right," I said. "Let's make camp."
Twenty-Seven
Wet Dreams
Corey
The process of making camp was, surprisingly, less chaotic than expected.
Sure, most of my denizens plopped themselves down in their usual slapdash fashion as soon as the order was given. But their group leaders immediately chivvied them back to their feet, directing them to help set things up in a more practical arrangement.
I would have liked for them to encircle the area in a protective barrier of wagons, but there weren't enough vehicles for that. Instead, I had Gneil order them to be placed in a semi-circle shielding the main body of the campsite from the side closest to the forest. We had no idea what might be lurking in the undergrowth, and though it left us vulnerable to attack from the more open area we'd just traversed, we could at least see things coming that way.
Assisted by the clothiers, Shuck the armorer began to lay down the hides she'd salvaged from the flood. They were too damaged to be of any use in crafting, but they served just fine as floor mats, and would at least ensure that those on the ground would not have to sleep in the mud.
Rolls of thatch—taken from the gnomehomes' conical roofs—were also unloaded from the wagons. The builders attempted to assemble them into decent-sized shelters. But without the shroomwood framework to support it, the sagging material lacked the structural integrity to stand on its own. The workers were glancing around despairingly at their surroundings, and I could see why. They sought to improvise a frame, but most of the branches on the nearby trees were all either too large for them to handle, or were twigs too slender to be of any use.
If only I had access to Growth, I thought. I could've grown those twigs to the perfect length and width.
It was difficult not to feel constant resentment at my situation. But my gnomes were getting on with things as best they could, so I resolved to do the same.
Along with the woodcutters, the builders were able to collect enough decent-sized branches from the ground to make around twenty improvised tents, much smaller and sadder-looking than originally intended. Each sheltered just four gnomes, leaving a fifth of my denizens still outside. Most were warriors who'd nobly volunteered to brave the elements; Hammer directed half of these into positions around the perimeter to keep watch, while the rest formed a makeshift lean-to with the help of Coll, who lent them his shield and cloak. After snuffling around for a dinner of insects, the four unyoked badgers settled in with them as well.
At least they won’t get cold.
The humans had assembl
ed their own two-man tent on the western edge of the camp. The wind was blowing from that direction, driving the rain sideways in misery-inducing sheets of cold water, and the position of their tent provided a windbreak that sheltered the main camp from the worst of it. Benin had grudgingly held open the flap, offering those gnomes without a proper roof the option to take cover inside, but they stoically declined—with the exception of Swift and Cheer, who marched inside before the mage had even opened his mouth to make the invitation. I couldn't suppress a chuckle as they dumped their bulging bindles just inside the entrance, kicked off their boots, and claimed both men’s bedrolls. Within moments they were snoring, Swift flat on her back with hands behind her head, Cheer sprawled on her front, limbs akimbo.
Rations were distributed among the rest, the weary gnomes devouring the wrapped meat and dried mushrooms with a hunger I'd never seen before. I realized the supply of food was something I'd need to add to my list of immediate concerns. There clearly weren't enough travel rations to last us for even a fraction of the journey. Hopefully the scouts and gatherers would be able to take care of it as we went.
Right now, though, our biggest short-term issue was the condition of the wagons. I took advantage of my new Adjure ability and examined my carpenters' skills more closely, sensing Ket looking as well.
Assess
Construct
Repair
Upgrade
Embellish
My sprite stifled a yawn.
Yup, definitely not the most exciting array. But what other kinds of skills would they have? Water Walk? Resurrection? They're carpenters, not demigods.
Curiously, my workers' abilities were not subject to cooldowns. Unlike Binky's Spit and Web Shoot, Repair and the rest could be used successively any number of times without being subject to an additional mana cost.
However, unlike Binky, what my denizens did have were stamina bars. Every time they used a skill it would drain a measure of their stamina until eventually they would no longer be able to work without first resting up. Both carpenters' stamina was in the red, just a fraction remaining.
They definitely needed to share the load. I selected two of my vocationless denizens and assigned them both the carpenter profession. One of them rolled over in his sleep, mumbling and rotating his wrist as though handling an invisible screwdriver. The other started examining the framework of the tent above her, frowning critically as if suddenly noticing how shoddy it was.
“I’ll name you two… um…” I racked my brains for any knowledge relating to carpentry, but came up blank. “Er, Screwy and Woody?”
“What about Dowel and Tenon?” Ket suggested.
“That’s probably better.”
The original two carpenters, Dovetail and Groove, had already reached level 3 in the 'Repair' skill. I made a mental note to make sure they were the ones I sent in next time the carts sustained damage; according to the Augmentary, their growing expertise in the skill meant that their repairs would be quicker and more enduring. Meanwhile, in the morning I'd set the two new carpenters to improving our wagons’ design. We’ll find out what Upgrade can actually do.
"Adjure is a godsend," I said to Ket. Being granted more information by the tier-nine ability made me feel a lot more in control, and it lifted my spirits considerably. “Why isn’t it something we get at tier one? This would have made my job much easier.”
“And allowed you to plan more efficiently,” she agreed. “I don’t know why Cores aren’t granted it until tier nine. Maybe it’s because you first have to ‘prove’ your worth by becoming attuned to your denizens and intuiting their needs? You have to put in the work first rather than just having it laid out for you.”
“The universe works in mysterious ways,” whispered Bekkit in passing.
“Shut up, Bekkit,” we both said.
"Whatever the reason, this whole journey is going to be much more manageable now that I have access to all this new information,” I said to Ket. “Not to mention being able to see the gnomes' specific capabilities."
"And their limits," she pointed out. "Perhaps we should have Dovetail and Groove ride in the carts tomorrow, at least for a while. Their stamina is almost completely drained, and at the rate it's regenerating it won't be fully restored by the time we set off again."
"Good thinking. And I'll send out the scouts and the foragers, too. We'll need to hunt and resupply as we go, especially if we want to keep their stamina and morale up."
There's still such a long way to go...
"The first step is always the hardest," Ket said softly, sensing my lingering concern. "We made it out. And we'll make it the rest of the way too. I know it."
This was not as reassuring as she no doubt intended. If this was just the first step, how many more were to come? It had been a long, miserable five hours. How were we going to manage another forty days?
Then I looked properly at the gnomes still awake and on guard. They were huddled and bowed, true, but I realized this was a result of the miserable weather and not necessarily a loss of morale. They were watchful, yes, but not fearful, and those in the tents and shelters slept soundly.
Standing guard over my gem on the chariot was Ajax, the tribe's largest gnome, though he was as always more preoccupied with admiring his own bulging muscles than watching for threats. Even brawnier than Hammer, the fighter had biceps like conkers. Literally; the things had been falling off trees for the past couple of weeks, and Shuck the armorer had incorporated the spiky shells into the armor of our heavier warriors. Ajax was the heaviest of those heavy warriors. I'd once seen him split an acorn with a single spear-thrust, and knew that despite his egotistic demeanor, he'd be alert and ready to fight at the very first sign of danger.
A little further along the perimeter, the warrior named Serene sat cross-legged on the very edge of a wagon, balanced perfectly on its outer frame. Her expression was as peaceful as her name suggested; she almost looked as though she were sleeping. Unlike the other watchers, her shroomwood spear and redcap shield rested in their harness upon her back. In the battle against the kobolds, she'd lost her weapons early in the fight, but if anything that had made her deadlier. I'd seen her snap an enemy's neck with a single kick to the snout.
A screech from somewhere deep in the woods had the other watchers jumping to attention, hands going immediately to their weapons and remaining there until they were sure they weren't under attack. A casual observer might think Serene didn't react at all, but I knew better. A twitch of her ear, a slight clenching of her fists—if an enemy dared show its face on her watch, she'd be the first to put her fist through its skull.
Elsewhere, Graywall scanned the canopy, presumably looking for the source of the noise. His eyes gleamed in the light of the torches, arrayed on the wagons in the hope of deterring any dark-dwelling predators. The drill sergeant looked alert despite his obvious weariness; his stamina bar was significantly longer than most other gnomes', including his fellow warriors, and it seemed he was indomitable.
Despite the continuing downpour and prospect of more tough traveling, the sight of my warriors filled me with warm confidence.
Ket's right. We can do this.
My renewed confidence in my denizens lasted until dawn. When the camp stirred to life the following morning it became apparent that almost a third of those traveling on foot had lost one or both boots at some point during the previous day's march.
"How?!" I said incredulously to Ket.
"It was very muddy..."
"Yes, but surely your boot coming off is something you'd notice. Why wouldn't you stop to pick it up and put it back on?"
Luckily, there came an unexpected solution to the problem. Swift and Cheer had of course brought up the rear during last night's leg of the journey. It seemed they'd managed to pluck the lost boots from the mud—hence their many halts and rearranging of luggage—and now they emerged from their tent, enormous bulging sacks in hand, and began distributing footwear to those in need of it.
Then I looked more closely.
Cheer was holding a mud-crusted boot in one hand. Her other hand was held out, palm up, toward the gnome with whom she was currently speaking—one of the builders. Resentment plain on his face, the builder crossed his arms and shook his head. The scavenger shrugged, placed the boot back into her sack and moved along to the next tent.
"The little extortionists!" I exclaimed. "They're selling the others' own boots back to them! At a time like this! That's pretty diabolical, even for them."
"Maybe try not to sound so proud of them?"
"Come on, Ket, even you have to admire their ingenuity."
"I'll do no such thing. Now please send Ris'kin in to shake down the little thieves. Your denizens won't be marching anywhere if their feet are full of brambles."
The sprite had a point. As reluctant as I was to curtail my scavengers' cunning and innovation, this really wasn't the time for exploitative entrepreneuring. We had to stick together, not self-sabotage.
By the time my avatar had finished redistributing lost boots to their owners and returned the empty sack to the glaring scavengers, I'd made a decision.
Knowing the general direction of our destination was all very well. But we couldn't just keep heading "north". We needed to take a closer look at the maps the humans had brought and decide on a firm route. We had little enough time available, and we had to prepare in order to use it wisely.
"Don't take it down just yet," I said to Coll, who was preparing to pull up the pegs of his and Benin's tent. "I'm calling an official council. Get back inside."
I glanced up at the lightening sky. The gray dawn was struggling to push through the gaps in the branches above, and I shuddered at the reminder of all that open space.