by Demi Harper
How does he know my name?
And he’d said it scathingly, almost mockingly. As if…
As if he knew it wasn’t my real name.
Do you really think you’re better than me? Grimrock continued. Really?
Apparently the question was not rhetorical. He fell silent, waiting for an answer – and I knew then that there was only one response I could possibly give.
Everything I’d heard, everything I’d inferred, told me unequivocally that making an enemy of Grimrock was a bad idea – no, an unspeakably terrible idea. He was vastly more powerful than me, and took sadistic pleasure in harming others for his own gain.
It also seemed he knew things about me – about the real me – that even I didn’t recall. What? And how?
But to ask him would be to grant him power over me; to acknowledge that I needed his help.
He could probably crush me in the blink of an eye. But you know what? I’d had enough of his sarcasm, his patronizing superiority, his calculated attempts to insult and manipulate me.
I was a god, damn it! And I’d be damned if I was going to team up with – no, subject myself to – a gnome-killing, monster-loving maniac.
‘Even the smallest of cockroaches is better than you.’
I said this slowly, calmly, though panic bubbled away inside me, growing with each word spoken. It rose to a boil when Grimrock remained dangerously silent in response.
At this point, I was pretty sure I’d made a mistake. But it was too late to go back now. I tried to bolster myself with thoughts of my god-born creatures guarding the tunnels, and the memory of how Ris’kin had slain the kobold raider in that moment of urgency that now seemed so long ago.
Terrifyingly, Grimrock seemed to sense the direction of my thoughts, and turned his own attention to fox-like Ris’kin. Through the dark haze of Grimrock’s paralyzing presence, I saw that my avatar was still helping the new builders prepare the foundations for the inaugural gnomehome.
She’d moved into a more supervisory role, allowing the gnomes to do most of the work and only stepping in when additional help was needed – shifting a particularly heavy rock here and there, and occasionally offering an encouraging paw to the shoulder of any flagging gnome.
Grimrock’s next words were quiet, deadly calm and laced with threat like a predator beneath still, black waters.
I could turn that creature inside out before you even have chance to beg me not to.
I went cold, fear and outrage combining to chill me into stillness. How dare he threaten my avatar? If I had a mouth and Grimrock had a body, I’d have spat at his feet. But he wasn’t done.
The fox, the gnomes, and whatever pathetic souls you’ve managed to produce with your laughably inadequate command of your new abilities – all will fall before Grimrock. I have allies in places you would never even dream of. Just wait. You’ll learn that defying me was your greatest and last mistake, little god.
His mocking laughter echoed around my mind one final time, and then he was gone. My vision returned to normal, and I was left in the Grotto with my gnomes, my avatar, and the knowledge that everything I’d worked for was now in mortal peril.
Twenty-One
Miracle Grow
What have I done?
After a few moments spent frozen in shock, I regained enough presence of mind to call for Ket.
‘What’s wrong, Corey?’ she asked anxiously, zooming over the instant she sensed my summons. ‘What happened?’
‘Grimrock,’ I whispered.
The sprite fell still. For a while she was frighteningly quiet. I replayed the sinister conversation over in my mind while I waited for her to respond.
‘… I could turn that creature inside out… All will fall before Grimrock… Just wait…’
Just wait.
No. I wasn’t sure what exactly I could do, but waiting helplessly for Grimrock’s minions to arrive was not an option.
‘He’s coming, Ket,’ I said, giving the sprite a mental shake. ‘I don’t know when, but he’s coming. What do we do?’
‘It can’t be him,’ she whispered, flitting from side to side as though shaking her head. ‘He’s gone. The Guilds sent nullifiers to shatter him, though not before he destroyed a whole host of other Cores on his quest for domination.’
I saw again Ket’s vision of the yellow rock shattering. But… I thought she said that happened because the Core expended too much mana while using its abilities. Was Grimrock somehow responsible for that, too?
Before I could raise the question, however, one of the invisible threads connecting me to my skelemanders suddenly twitched. Anxiety lurched inside me. When I followed the thread, I found my fears confirmed: a small party of kobolds – about half a dozen – lurked on the outskirts of my Sphere of Influence.
Like the others I’d seen, they were equipped with weapons, though these were smaller: daggers and slings as opposed to spears and swords. The kobolds themselves were smaller, too, slender and watchful rather than muscular and aggressive.
Then I realized.
These creatures hadn’t been sent to raid. They’d been sent to scout.
The kobold base was more than an hour away from the Grotto on foot. For them to be here already meant that bastard must have sent them this way before he’d even initiated our conversation, the treacherous scum!
I watched with a queasy mix of relief and trepidation as the enemy scouts skirted the edges of my domain, occasionally passing over the boundary of my Sphere, peering down each passage and chunnering amongst themselves in that strange, barking language of theirs. They didn’t appear to sense my presence, nor did they spy my skelemanders, translucent and still as those stealthy little creatures were.
The kobolds were currently doing no harm, but I wanted nothing more than to rally Septimus and the others to burst from the tunnels and take them down, or at least frighten them into running away. That’d show Grimrock I wasn’t as pathetic as he thought me to be.
Just as I was about to command my god-born creatures to do just that, though, Ket hissed, ‘Corey, no! Your creatures can’t leave your Sphere of Influence, remember? The kobolds are beyond reach, at least for now.’
Damn it. She was right, as always. What had I been thinking? Still, I could at least put on a show for Grimrock—
‘No,’ Ket said again before I even finished suggesting it. ‘Do you really want to give away even more than he already knows? Parading your god-born in front of his scouts will give him exactly what he wants. He’s trying to gauge your strength; let’s make it as difficult as possible for him, yes?’
‘You want me to let him think we’re even weaker than we actually are? Then he’ll definitely send raiders to attack us!’
‘Yes, Corey. But he’s going to send them anyway, regardless of our strength. Grimrock’s arrogance will make sure of it. Better his vile minions not know what to expect upon entering our tunnels, no?’
It was true that we stood more chance of successfully defending ourselves with the element of surprise on our side. So I did nothing. Ket and I watched the kobolds move around my Sphere, creeping in and out of various passages, obviously mapping different routes back and forth, always staying just outside my influence, and thus out of range of my god-born guardians.
The kobolds persisted for some time, eventually coming full circle and then slinking away into the darkness beyond sight.
When we returned to the Grotto, Ket remained still and dull, apparently frightened into inactivity. I put on my most soothing voice – which was more difficult than you might think, since offering comfort was an area in which I did not recall having much experience.
‘We can fight him, Ket,’ I said. ‘We can fight him, but I can’t do it alone. I need your help. What should we do?’
She was silent. Then she shook herself, as though from a trance. ‘We need… we need to continue converting more Faithful. Eventually, they’ll take it upon themselves to upgrade your altar to a shrine, which will then
unlock the next construction tier.’
‘And that means…?’
She sighed impatiently, and it was a relief to hear her sounding more like her old, bossy self. There’s the Ket I know and tolerate. ‘It means you’ll be able to assign workers to construct new buildings. Military buildings, with a bit of luck.’
‘Finally!’ It might turn out to be completely ineffectual, but a gnome army was certainly better than no army. ‘Wait, what d’you mean, “with a bit of luck”?’
‘Well…’ She shifted uncomfortably. ‘Every Core is different. I’ve only ever… erm, worked closely with one Core before you, and they… they never reached the next construction stage. I’ve long suspected it grants access to military buildings – barracks, an armory, that sort of thing – but there’s no sure way of knowing.’
‘Hm. Okay. How do we get them to upgrade my altar, then?’
‘I told you: you need more Faithful. You’re doing great already. You just need to keep building, continue assigning vocations, and before long you’ll have your shrine.’
‘But I need it now!’ I moaned.
Ket huffed at me crossly. ‘You can’t force it, Corey.’
I knew that.
But I can encourage it.
I recalled my earlier use of Growth, and the way the farmer had dropped to his knees at the sight of the accelerated mushroom seedling. Then I took stock of my mana: five full, perfect, glowing blue globes, brimming with mana waiting eagerly to be used.
Let’s do this.
Heading over to the new shroomtree patch, I gazed down at the freshly turned earth and focused my attention on the fifty or so spores planted beneath it by my two farmers.
Using my Augmentary in the same way I managed my denizens, I realized I was able to select multiple organisms before initiating Growth. Banishing my doubts, I began to push mana into every single shroomtree spore simultaneously.
Since the majority of a mushroom grows below ground, my fifth globe was entirely empty and my fourth almost so before the shroomtrees actually began to sprout visibly from the earth.
I was down to half of my third globe before the two farmers – previously occupied over in the original shroomtree patch – noticed their miraculous progeny, now at waist height, and by the time their shouts drew the attention of some of the villagers, only one globe of mana remained.
I used nearly all of it to push my new shroomtrees even higher; by the time I stopped, almost completely drained, fifty juvenile shroomtrees stood straight and proud before the watching villagers.
For a moment, the gnomes just stared gormlessly. Then, to my utter delight – and unending relief – one by one they began to fall to their knees and worship. First one, then two, then five, seven, nine – the familiar green aura glowing from all of them and pushing me inexorably into god tier six.
Including the five Faithful at the altar – Aren’t they getting tired by now? I thought absently – I now had a total of twenty-six Faithful, fourteen of which were actively worshiping at this moment. I knew from experience that these new converts would most likely lose interest in worship soon (though of course they would remain Faithful), but for now, my first mana globe was already three quarters full again thanks to their combined devotion. Best of all, any moment now, they would doubtless begin construction on my new shrine.
I waited expectantly, but to my dismay there was no flurry of activity, nothing to indicate the beginnings of a shrine.
‘Why aren’t they building it?’ I asked, hating the hurt in my voice. I’d defied Grimrock for them; I’d grown these shroomtrees for them. I’d done so much for them, and all they could give me in return was their lousy devotion?
‘You can’t force it, Corey,’ repeated Ket, almost apologetically. ‘You know, there’s a theory that denizens can sense their Core’s intentions. No matter how many nice things the Core does for his followers, if his motivations are corrupt – as in, selfish – they’ll somehow be aware of this, and be less willing to volunteer their own time and energy to do your bidding. You just have to be patient.’ She brushed against my consciousness in sympathy.
I shrugged her off. This wasn’t about my not getting what I wanted. This was about survival! Beginning my gnome army was literally a matter of life or death. Our present situation was simply not sustainable. If Grimrock attacked, and if somehow my god-born creatures were all defeated, I wouldn’t have the mana to constantly create new ones to repel invaders. If the gnomes couldn’t defend themselves when push came to shove…
‘All right. I’ll be patient. For now. But we need to bolster our defenses instead,’ I said to Ket. ‘We need more god-born.’
Twenty-Two
Evolution
The next couple of days were spent alternately populating more tunnels within my newly expanded Sphere of Influence, and using Growth until my new shroomtrees surpassed even the original ones in height and girth. After all, building homes – and therefore increasing morale and, hopefully, Faith – was now one of my primary goals.
Though I’d Ascended to god tier six, my Creation limits hadn’t expanded any further. Ket reminded me they were capped at tier five, and I cursed. Still, I had the capacity to create up to five types of species; since I currently had four – forrel, boulderskin, skelemander, and eight-legged cave wanderer – that meant I had one potential option to play around with, and eighteen Creation slots left to fill out of my total of thirty.
First, I added two more forrels to each of the three tunnels that branched off from the Grotto. There were now packs of three guarding each one, along with the original trio I’d placed near the Grotto’s entrance.
Ascending to tier six had expanded my Sphere of Influence. At its deepest point, my domain now encompassed a round cavern, at the center of which was a water-filled sinkhole. The hole was almost perfectly round, and went straight down to depths that exceeded my Sphere of Influence. In a stroke of genius, I decided to name it the Sinkhole, and created a boulderskin to be stationed in this new area.
Unlike the first boulderskin, which lurked in the shallows of its underground lake, this one clung to the side of the Sinkhole just below the surface – a bit like Septimus in his pit in the center of the Heart – just waiting for unsuspecting intruders to wander by.
After deciding I didn’t need any more skelemanders to patrol the now-larger outskirts of my Sphere, it was finally time to try a new combination.
Ignoring my instincts – which were screaming at me to create the biggest, baddest combination of elements I possibly could – I forced myself to consider my options strategically. Our enemies were kobolds; nasty, two-legged creatures who bore weapons and armor despite their animalistic nature. How best to nullify their effectiveness?
An entry in my Augmentary caught my eye: the whip spider. Ignoring Ket’s eye-rolling comments about my ‘unhealthy obsession with spiders’, I examined the blueprint in detail.
The whip spider didn’t look much like a spider, not really, nor did it weave webs. It had eight legs, yes, but they were bent in strange ways, contorted, and its body was almost flat, as though the creature had been squished beneath a rock.
The whip spider’s most interesting feature, though, was its two front legs, which were almost three times longer than its body, and slender and tapered like a pair of whips – hence its name. It could use these whip-like forelegs to ensnare and paralyze its prey before the unfortunate victim even had time to blink.
If I could place some of these creatures on the tunnel ceilings, they’d be perfect for immobilizing kobold attackers, giving my forrel packs an opportunity to then take our enemies down quickly and cleanly.
With that role in mind, it was obvious which creature I should splice it with. Upon examining the Sinkhole, I’d spotted a curious sight: a fish, climbing up the wall of the cave. Insight gave me the creature’s blueprint, and informed me it was known – somewhat unimaginatively – as a cave-climbing fish.
Its fins were strong enough to grapp
le onto virtually any terrain, and the underside of its body was coated with thousands of minuscule suction cups, making it almost impossible to forcibly remove from whatever surface it chose to ascend.
I brought the whip spider and cave-climbing fish blueprints carefully together, taking the most useful aspects of each and imbuing the final result with three entire globes of mana. With the usual white flash, the new creature dropped to the ground before me.
The whipfish – as I decided to name it – was about the same size as Binky. It had the carapace of a spider, as well as eight legs, including the front two distinctive appendages that gave the whip spider its name. On its back, it also had the same textured, rock-like coloring as the spider, which would help it remain camouflaged from predators and prey alike.
However, the whipfish’s underside possessed those grapple-like fins of the cave-climbing fish, as well as those fleshy, squelching, self-lubricating suction cups that could easily hold the whipfish’s not-inconsiderable weight suspended for hours at a time.
My new creation had cost me two Creation slots – a result of its being another combination of vertebrate and invertebrate, just like the boulderskins – but I decided it was worth it. The whipfish looked like a formidable opponent, to say the least.
Satisfied with the whipfish, I created two more, then commanded them to split up and join each of the forrel packs guarding the three approaches to the Grotto. By that time, I was running low on mana, and decided to conserve my remaining four Creation slots in case of an emergency.
As for the shroomtrees, it turned out that using pure mana to make them grow resulted in stronger, healthier specimens than those that had existed before; gone were the slimy patches, and no longer did they lean in all directions. They grew straight and true, and when they were finally ready for felling, the lumberjacks were able to gain far more usable boardage than before – almost seven boards per shroomtree, compared to the five or so from the old ones. The workers seemed as happy about this as I was, and the Faith that shone from them during this time remained steady and true, inching me gradually closer to tier seven.