by Demi Harper
Fifty-Nine
Cannot End
Corey
A deep orange glow beckoned from up ahead. At first I thought it to be another magma cavern, and glanced around warily for more pyromanders.
Behind us, Longshank clutched his spear tightly and did his best to keep up, though the replacement leg was clearly causing him some discomfort. He was limping more than usual, and I’d seen him wincing and rubbing his lower back on more than one occasion, as though the driftwood limb jarred his bones with every step. The hunter’s endurance was humbling, and I silently vowed to reward him once all this was over.
As we got closer, Ris’kin’s nose started to pick up other scents mingling with the heavy sulfurous air, and I realized the light up ahead was from nothing less than the setting sun.
We’d done it. We were out!
My avatar carried us forward with a surge of renewed energy until we emerged onto the mountain’s summit.
The caldera spread before us. We’d emerged on the opposite side to which I’d last seen the place; I found myself drawn by the light to where the last dregs of late evening sun reflected off the lake at the far side, so that the surface of the black water looked as though it were on fire.
As my gaze traveled further, I spotted structures that looked like trebuchets dotted around the outside—presumably to defend against predators from the air, though they didn’t exactly look as though they were in working order. Also around the edges were dwellings built into the very sides of the crater. What had looked from my former viewing point above the lake to be mere caves in the rock revealed themselves as windows and doorways, some of which still held the broken remains of shutters and doors. Most of them had been hidden from my previous vantage by overhanging shelves, like the entrance to the bear’s cave—a clever trick of perspective.
The space in between was filled with the rubble of half-ruined buildings. Enough remained standing here and there to provide a testament to their former glory.
What happened here?
Scanning the caldera, I realized that the pattern of destruction was odd; it was as if something had impacted the city from above, sending out a shockwave of devastation that had utterly leveled the area around where we now stood, but had done gradually less damage to things further away.
What could possibly have caused so much destruction?
I looked to my right, turning fully around because of Ris’kin’s blind eye, and almost fell over in shock.
What I’d thought earlier to be a range of rocky growths were actually bones. An enormous skeleton sprawled across this side of the caldera. It was difficult to measure scale from Ris’kin’s height, but it looked as though the skeleton reached almost entirely from one wall to the other. Ridges of tail vertebra stood out on the far side, even in the darkness, while behind and above us loomed a colossal draconic skull.
Taking a few steps away from it, I realized there were actually two skeletons. Two dragons, entwined as though they’d been embracing as they crashed down from the sky.
Is this why the gnomes fled their ancestral home?
It seemed more than a little odd. Mysteries on top of mysteries. But solving this one could wait a while.
I tore my gaze away from the fallen behemoths and hurried toward our destination.
Time remaining for Exodus: 41 minutes, 40 seconds
We’d cut things very fine indeed. If we didn’t claim our new settlement in time, I would permanently lose all my progress and have to start again at tier one. Thankfully, there wasn’t much farther to go.
We wound our way through the ruins of the ancient city toward a wide plaza at its center. Standing tall amongst the rubble was a circular building. Its domed roof had been held up by what looked like a black metal frame, similar to the inner structure of our traveling shelters, though the rest was hollow and open to the sky. The ground underneath was littered with fragments of glass or crystal.
Illumishrooms glowed around the edges of the plaza. Wagons waited, badgers milled around patiently, and there beyond them knelt the rest of the tribe. Rows and rows of gnomes knelt. Adults and children alike had their heads bowed, hands clasped together. Most were silent, but some were whispering, their lips moving in fervent prayer.
The sight was stirring, and reminded me of the time they’d all come together in the Grotto to complete Ris’kin’s resurrection ritual. Now, though, it was clear they were praying for the return of something different.
Knowing that all these individual souls were waiting for me was surprisingly terrifying. Despite the burden of responsibility I’d endured for weeks—for months—it felt like I was only now beginning to appreciate the true scope of what it meant to be the god of an entire society.
Warmth and reassurance flowed into me from both Ket and Ris’kin. I rallied myself, reminded that I was not alone, and we began our final journey toward the new altar.
Coll and Benin’s tent rose alongside the gnomes’, and I felt a flash of concern when I realized both humans were absent, as were Pyra and Binky. Nor was Bekkit anywhere in sight. I tried not to think too hard about what that might mean. Instead, I focused on my denizens’ faces, rejoicing with each one I mentally tallied. General Hoppit, Graywall, Pan, and Buttress; Sergeants Magnus and Serene. Scout Hindmarch and warrior-nurse Emrys. Hammer and Nails, Twain the sawyer and Catgut the bowyer. I even spotted Dovetail with the other two remaining carpenters; her legs were swathed in bloody bandages from her near-miss with the fangfins, but her expression was focused and hopeful.
One by one they looked up from their vigil as we wound our way amongst them. Wonder and relief filled their faces, mirroring the gratitude I felt towards them for their faith in my return.
Beyond them all, on a raised dais inside the domed building, stood Gneil. Behind him was a carved stone plinth that could only be an altar. Eyes closed, my high priest’s face was lit with an expression of serenity, though I also picked out lines of worry and tension. The acolytes knelt before him, praying, the hoot-hoots huffing impatiently among them. I smiled to see Gnils the acolyte trying not to giggle as one of the fluffy birds stuck its head in her pocket in search of treats. She cracked an eye open to see what it was doing, then gasped when she spotted Ris’kin.
Her gasp alerted the rest to our arrival. Gneil and the other acolytes lifted their heads and stared wide-eyed as my avatar approached the altar, my gem held before her in both hands. Though I was blind and deaf to the effects of their prayer while Exodus was engaged, my worshipers were clearly convinced they had delivered me. I glanced back at the weary-looking Longshank. In a way, they had.
Gneil was also looking at Longshank. After a moment, my high cleric grudgingly nodded to his rival, on whom the surviving scouts were converging with relief. Their reunion was enthusiastic but brief, and soon all eyes were once more upon Ris’kin as she handed my gem to Gneil, who bowed his head reverently. My high cleric ascended the steps of the dais, his boots crunching on the shards of shattered crystal; then, finally, he lowered the gem until it rested upon the altar.
I waited expectantly for the Augmentary’s golden text to appear in my vision. To announce that the exodus was complete, a success, and to begin restoring my abilities and expanding my Sphere. I couldn’t wait to see the blue mana globes full and glowing, to once again taste my denizens’ affectionate Faith.
When it came, though, the text was red.
Sanctification failed!
Exodus cannot end with hostile enemies in the immediate vicinity.
Panic whirled through me as I focused on the word “failed.” After all this time, after everything we’d endured, we’d failed?
Then I saw the timer was still blinking, informing me we had twenty-four minutes remaining in which to end the exodus. I stared again at the red notification, and this time I registered the even more alarming part.
“Hostile enemies.”
But where? Ris’kin’s vision wasn’t a patch on my god’s-eye, but it was still sharper
than most, and we hadn’t seen anything untoward on our way down here. Had a pyromander followed us up from below?
“Corey…”
I was straining my avatar’s senses for any sign of the supposed danger, but stilled when Ket’s sudden fear and disbelief crept into me. “Hmm?”
“Look up.”
Sixty
Gardos
Tiri
Varnell’s eyes widened, and for a moment Tiri was confident she’d hit the mark. Then he barked a laugh.
“If only.” He snorted. “If only that were true.”
Of course he wouldn’t wish to accept that he was being deceived. From what she understood of the elves, the loss of their god had hit them hard, and they’d dispersed into reclusive clans. She’d assumed Varnell had bought into this “Lord of Light” stuff out of a desire to make his people great again by restoring their old glory.
That didn’t explain why he seemed so fearful of his patron, but then again, “god-fearing” was often used to mean something positive.
“Can you be certain it isn’t true?” she asked as gently as she could bring herself to. “Sometimes we believe so strongly in what we want to believe that it blinds us to what’s really—”
“I’m sure.” He held up a hand to stop her speaking, and a bit of the old derision was showing again on his face. “I’m sure my patron is not the Tyrant of Darkness. Old Garim R’ok—or Grimrock, as he goes by nowadays—has actually been working alongside me for decades now. We share a common enemy, you see.”
A common enemy? Who? What?
“Though we haven’t spoken recently. We… lost touch, you might say. Actually, that’s your fault.” He grinned at her confusion. “Oh yes, you’ve met him yourself, though you didn’t realize it. I’m sure you remember him. Red, shiny, about this size.” He cupped both hands together to form a rough oval.
The red God Core…
She barely had time to reel from the revelation—she, Benin and Coll had played a part in destroying the last remnant of the ancient night elf god?!—before Varnell was throwing more at her. The words were spilling out of him now, almost as though he were relieved to finally have his secrets out in the open.
“Melakor is my patron. Mela K’or. The Lord of Light. The Uniter of Worlds, he was called by some.” He waved a hand at the purple-black smoke in the scrying bowl. “As you say, this seems strange indeed for the Aspect of the light elves’ god. I myself learned too late that the light is and always was a veneer; like sunspots hiding the true darkness behind your eyelids.”
Again, she had so many questions she wanted to ask. But she forced her mind to the most present worries.
“What does any of this have to do with God Cores?” she asked. Everyone knew Varnell had taken the Guild in the direction of seeking and destroying Cores ever since he became master. Yet now it turned out he’d actually been allied with one—and an evil one at that. “I know the churches claim they’re blasphemous, dangerous, and a bunch of other things. But I’ve seen the purple Core. It saved my life. It’s benevolent. It’s a god of gnomes. How many others like it have you murdered? That you’ve been destroying them all without distinction is nothing less than an atrocity.”
“Oh, get off your high horse. You think I don’t know that? For the longest time I was simply obeying my patron’s will. Mela K’or wished for all God Cores to be found and reported to him. After every report, he ordered the Cores to be destroyed, and so I destroyed them.”
“Why?”
“His punishment for disobedience was swift and terrible.” His hand went to his chest unconsciously, and his face fleetingly took on a haunted look. “I wished to avoid retribution, and so I quashed any moral qualms I had and focused entirely on the task.”
“You still haven’t explained why you’re so fixated on the purple Core.”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. She noticed for the first time the shadows that hung beneath them, the streaks of gray in his hair.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but when my patron and I first established our covenant, we shared memories. They were fractured, messy, hardly more than vague impressions, but decades later and hundreds of hours of meditation allowed me to recall some of them clearly. One of the most powerful—and most recent—included a purple soul gem. For some reason, he is desperate to locate it.”
“And thus so were you.”
“Only so I could find it first,” he said vehemently. “I realized that his insistence on receiving a report of each Core before confirming the order to destroy it meant that he was searching for one in particular—one he did not wish destroyed.”
“The purple Core. But why?”
He scowled.
“You don’t even know,” she realized.
“I know enough,” he shot back. “I know that if he wants it so badly, it can mean nothing good. I know that destroying it will hurt him.”
“And the gnomes? What of them?”
“They’d never have known any different if Grimrock hadn’t failed. Typical god—he let his pride rule him. He toyed with the new Core, tried to use it to further his own power—he believes he is the only one who can rid us of Melakor, naturally. Not that I blame him. He has many a bone to pick with the bastard after all these years.”
She thought again of Ar’bek Kitt’s account; of the remains of those who’d fought at Bone Gorge. A small group of night elf skeletons surrounded by hundreds of light elves. Could it be… could it be that the dark elves were the victims and not the betrayers after all?
“I’d have recovered the Core myself weeks ago if I had the freedom to act,” Varnell snarled. “Instead I am forced to maintain my position, and rely on others—on lessers—to work on my behalf. All have failed until now.”
“Your magic comes directly from him,” she said. “That explains why you don’t use it. But what’s to stop you going out there yourself? You could have visited the purple Core—”
“And leave the Guild’s protection?” he scoffed. Noticing Tiri’s baffled look, he rolled his eyes. “The spells built into the foundations of the Guild itself prevent any influence or communication from outside sources—ancient gods included. As long as I remain within these walls, Melakor may only speak directly to me through a unique mirror in my tower.”
“But if you left the Guild…”
“My patron would be able to see through my eyes, sift through my thoughts. My intentions—to weaken him, that I might eventually free myself of his shackles—would be laid bare.”
“You want to be rid of your patron? But what about your power?”
His lip curled into a sneer, and she prepared for another patronizing reply. But then the fight seemed to go out of him. The scornful expression dropped, and he looked like nothing more than an exhausted half-elf, shoulders slumped beneath the weight of whatever burden he carried. He said simply, “I no longer believe that power is worth its price.”
She believed him. What was more, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“But Gardos said—”
His head jerked up. “You’ve met Gardos?”
“Indeed she has.”
The voice came from somewhere above and in between Tiri and Varnell, but both of them glanced at the demonic statue.
“Gardos?” said Varnell. He rose warily from his chair, still addressing the stone bust. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“I was listening. Forgive my eavesdropping, sire.”
Gone was the Core’s wry subservience. His voice now was bitter, scathing, and Tiri felt a ripple of unease.
“Tiriani and I had a little chat just before you arrived,” said Gardos. “It was brief, yet enlightening.”
The apple in Varnell’s slender throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Oh?”
“She informed me that you haven’t been entirely truthful. I see she was correct.”
Varnell shot her a venomous look. Tiri folded her arms. “He asked what I was investigating. I told him that I had rea
son to believe you sought to murder one of my friends—Benin Fitz—and that you’d been murdering pyromancers under your protection. You—”
“No, no,” Gardos interrupted. “Well, yes, that’s part of it. You might have told me, you know, Varnell?”
Varnell swallowed yet again. “I thought, given your former identity, you would have found issue with me bumping off your ‘brothers in fire,’ as you call them.”
“Did you not also think I would ‘find issue’ with your intent to shatter the gnomes’ Core?” Gardos said. “After you worked so hard to convince me to help you find it and nothing more?”
Tense silence thickened the stale air. Beneath the table, Varnell’s familiar pressed itself closer to the warlock’s leg, as though attempting to hide from whatever was about to happen.
“I can’t believe you tried to use Gardos to help destroy a fellow God Core,” Tiri found herself saying. “Just like you did with the red Core—”
“’Fellow God Core’? Is that what he told you?” Varnell laughed bitterly. “Gardos is no God Core.”
“What? Of course he is—”
“Enough.” The Core’s voice boomed out, silencing them both. To Varnell, he said, “I permitted you to continue ruling here because I believed you and I shared the same goals. It seems I was mistaken. How disappointing.”
“We share the same goals,” protested Varnell. “We both want to see Melakor fall—”
“I specifically stated the gnomes were not to be harmed,” said Gardos coldly. “Yet you defied my wishes at every step. This is unacceptable. Thankfully, I had prepared for such an eventuality.”
“What… what do you mean?”
“After she returned here and her wounds were healed, you instructed Lila Mornier to annihilate the gnomes so that their Core would shatter. However, I gave her instructions to counter yours. Her mental state is such that mine did not take hold as they should have, yet it was enough to confuse her intent and temper her instructions to her… special agents.”