God of Gnomes Page 2

  I felt myself growing calmer already.

  Ah, the wonders of solitude.

  The thought had barely finished crossing my mind when a bright, clear voice sounded right beside me.

  'Hey there!'

  Two

  Sprite

  'Hey!'

  Great. Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder.

  I looked around, still squinting against the cruel daylight that poured from above as I sought out the source of the irritatingly chirpy voice. Aside from the roughly circular outline of the hole in the cavern ceiling directly above me, I could see nothing.

  The voice came again.

  'Over here!'

  Weirdly, it sounded as though it was coming from right beside me. I scanned the surroundings in my limited vision. Still nothing.

  ‘Here!’ the voice insisted.

  Where?

  Annoyed, I glared around my bare, light-flooded hillock. It was empty but for myself, propped atop my pathetic stone pedestal. Around me, motes of floating dust drifted, occasionally glinting in the sun's terrible rays.

  As I stared, one of the motes glittered more brightly than the others. It began to grow larger. I attempted to shift nervously – to no avail, of course – as this shiny thing approached my helplessly prone form.

  When it was scarcely a hand's breadth away, it spoke again.

  ‘See?' It fluttered closer. 'Here I am!'

  I glimpsed gray-green wings fluttering almost imperceptibly fast, like those of a hummingbird, before the creature bumped gently against me.

  'Ow!' I grumbled.

  'Seriously? That hurt?' It nudged me again.

  Of course, there was no pain, but irritation flashed through me, and I saw again the red glow I'd seen when my ugly humanoid captor had first manhandled me. Was that my gem… changing color? To match my mood?

  Good. Maybe this infernal insect will see it as a threat and leave me alone.

  Alas, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

  'Ooooh!' the creature trilled. For an instant, I swear I saw two minuscule hands squeeze together in glee; then the insect-thing was in the air again, a featureless, glittering blur. It buzzed in a circle, clearly excited about something. Then it hovered in front of me. 'You're already manifesting your moods? Marvelous! How exciting! I wonder what else you can do?'

  The thing's cheery voice was already beginning to grate, and the way it sparkled in the falling light hurt my eyes, such as they were.

  'Listen, bug—' I began.

  'Bug?!' it squealed. For such a small ball of nothingness, it certainly could raise its voice when it wanted to. I mentally winced.

  'BUG?' it shrieked again, in a voice so high I imagined bats in nearby caves flapping in panic, suddenly torn from their daytime slumber. The creature that wasn’t a bug zipped back and forth; I got the curious sense that had we both been humanoids, it would now be jabbing a finger into my chest. 'You ought to be more polite to your sprite, little rock, or else you might just find yourself carried off by my friends the local magpies. How would you like to spend eternity in a tree amid some klepto bird's hoard?'

  The not-bug flitted to and fro, wavering ominously, and now I got the impression it was shaking a fist at me. Its threat barely registered, though, since I was too confused by what it had said.

  'What do you mean, 'my sprite'?'

  It made a little fizzing sound, which I correctly took for indignation. 'What d'you think it means? I am a sprite. I’m here to help you.' It buzzed a little closer. 'Though don't get any funny ideas about it. I don't belong to you. Got it?'

  'Yes. No. What? I—'

  'Marvelous! Now, shall we get to work, or are you waiting for me to do it all myself?'

  My mind spun. This 'sprite', or whatever it was, seemed to operate at double the speed of a normal person. While I could hardly be described as a 'normal person' in my current state, I certainly couldn't keep up with this shiny, bossy speck of attitude.

  I wished I had hands to raise to defend myself from it; its enthusiasm was offensive. On top of that, it was either speaking nonsense, or it had the wrong person.

  'Wait,’ I asked. ‘Slow down. What work? What are you talking about? And what are you?'

  It fizzed again, though it seemed this time it was annoyed at itself rather than me. That makes two of us.

  'Of course! Where are my manners?'

  In the void, along with my patience and everything that makes sense in this world.

  ‘I'm Ketten, though you can just call me Ket. I’m a sprite. A rock sprite, to be exact. Your rock sprite, though that certainly doesn't—'

  'Doesn't mean you belong to me, yes, yes. You already said that.'

  The sprite – what had it called itself? Kip? – waited, as though expecting me to say something more. I stared back stonily.

  'Well?' she prompted. I'm not sure why I thought of her as female; there was nothing to mark her as such, not physically anyway.

  But something about the way she spoke was distinctly feminine, and my mind – already lost amid the various cruel complications of my new situation – sought desperately to anchor itself by grasping for something – anything – familiar.

  Apparently, pinning labels upon even the most formless of creatures was the only way it currently knew how to do that.

  ‘Well?’ the sprite said again.

  'Well, what?'

  'Where are your manners?' she demanded, hovering before me. 'You haven't even told me your name!'

  How dare the common-looking little creature take such a tone with me? We’d met just moments ago, yet already she expected us to exchange pleasantries – as though the two of us were of equal station.

  The very idea! This jumped-up fragment of flying quartz has a serious attitude problem. ‘I’m surprised you need to ask my name,’ I told her huffily, ‘seeing as you already seem to know everything else.’

  The sprite buzzed brightly at this and drew herself up higher.

  'I'll have you know that I don't know everything,’ she trilled, her annoying high-pitched voice surprisingly smug for someone openly admitting the extent of their own ignorance. ‘However, I do know far more than you do! In fact, that's exactly why I'm here.'

  'Great. Perhaps you can tell me my name, then, seeing as I can't seem to remember it.'

  Ugh. Why did I admit that? Now she’s going to think me weak.

  My fears were confirmed when her glow dimmed a little, and the pitch of her next buzz was lower. It sounded less entitled, and more… sympathetic. I wasn't sure which was worse.

  'Fear not, dear rock. Your memories will return.' She sounded unsure of this, however. After a brief, awkward silence, she flitted from side to side, as though dismissing my worries. 'And if they don't – well, we'll just have to give you a new name, won't we?'

  'Erm…'

  'More importantly, do you understand what you are? What you have become?'

  'Well, it's quite obvious, isn't it?' I bluffed. I understood very little – all right, nothing – of what had happened since I awoke from my sojourn in the darkness. However, I wasn't about to admit that to her.

  But her silver glow became sharper, and I got the impression she was narrowing her eyes at me in scrutiny. 'You have no idea, do you?'

  Busted.

  'I—'

  'Lesson one: never lie to a sprite. I'm here to help you, and for me to help you, you have to be completely honest with me about what you know. I’m not a mind-reader, but from the way you're just sitting there as dull as a coal deposit, I'm going to assume you know nothing.'

  'Now, hang on—'

  'It's less than ideal, of course, but I can work with it. It's my job, after all.'

  What? 'What do you mean, it's your job? I still don’t understand why you’re here. More importantly, why am I here? And what am I?’

  She glowed brighter, as though taking a deep breath. I groaned internally and braced myself for more unhelpful ‘explanations’.

 
‘I’ve no idea what you were before,’ she began, ‘and although your own sense of self is obviously uncertain, I think it’s probably safe to assume you were human.’

  I had some doubts about this, mainly based on my ‘memories’ of dwelling in a subterranean city. But those recollections were vague, and since the sprite seemed unaware of my possession of these fragmented memories, I decided to keep quiet about them for now.

  ‘It’s possible you’ll never fully recall the details of your former life,’ Ket went on. ‘But from now on, you, dear rock, are a God Core.’

  Three

  God Core

  ‘I’m a what, now?’ I asked, somewhat perplexed.

  ‘A God Core,’ she said again, unhelpfully.

  I knew the word ‘god’. I knew the word ‘core’. Never, though, had I heard them used together. I waited for her to embellish this with an explanation; alas, she seemed to consider mere repetition sufficient.

  ‘All will become clearer with time,’ she said, apparently sensing my confusion. ‘For now, I’ll tell you this: Cores are at the center of most great civilizations. They are the nucleus—’

  ‘The what?’

  She made a soft, short sputtering sound which I took to be a huff. ‘The brain. Sort of. Anyway, they’re the nucleus of almost every society, the center and the driving force of any thriving network of living beings. Humans, elves, giants, goblins – if there’s a functioning civilization, it’s generally ruled – or rather, guided – by a single Core.’

  ‘You mean like an actual god?’ I was a god now? I could certainly get behind that notion.

  ‘Plenty are regarded as such, yes.’ She seemed hesitant, wary of this line of questioning, but I barely noticed. I was a god! That explained why the foul sunlight no longer burned me, not to mention how I managed to survive for so long disembodied in the dark. I felt vaguely as though I’d accomplished something I’d been aspiring to for a very, very long time.

  Yes, things were definitely starting to look up.

  ‘… similar to Dungeon Cores, though with vital differences,’ the sprite was saying.

  What did she say her name was? Kit? Kat?

  ‘Cores are as many as they are varied, though all are created in the same way. When a freshly departed soul is absorbed by a powerful enough soul gem—’

  ‘A what, now?’ I asked.

  She stopped buzzing for an instant and became deadly silent. Somehow, I knew she was fixing me with a death glare.

  ‘If you don’t stop saying that, I’m going to stop answering your questions altogether and leave you to figure things out for yourself.’

  ‘Excellent,’ I almost replied, thinking of the peace and quiet of the deep places.

  Had it really been that much less desirable than all this bright light and confusion – and worse, conversation? Was the heavy weight of oblivion really such a hard burden to bear compared with finding myself conscious and trapped inside a damned rock?

  My new existence was somewhat painful, yes (though not literally; that was one of the upsides to being made of stone, it seemed), yet I couldn’t suppress a mental shudder as I recalled feeling myself alone, pressed down beneath the weight of the world.

  Besides, what had the sprite said? ‘It’s possible you’ll never know what you were before’. Surely that meant it was also possible I would remember. It seemed my only option was to go along with this weirdness – for now.

  My tiny airborne interlocutor was still waiting for me to respond to her ultimatum. I had to try and sound – what was the word? Contrite. Yes, I had to act contrite if I was to convince her to help me.

  I racked my limited memory for my next words. What was that phrase one was meant to utter when one was attempting to express contrition?

  ‘I’m, er… sorry?’ I tried. ‘Kit,’ I added hopefully.

  She hummed her disgust. ‘My name is Ket. Ket. I won’t tell you again!’

  Somehow, I doubted this. Still, I tried again. ‘Sorry, Ket.’

  The words tasted strange in my mind; sour, unfamiliar. From the way the sprite huffed again, I guessed I’d soon have to get used to saying them a lot more often.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said again for good measure. There, that ought to do it. She huffed again, more quietly this time. I sensed something more was needed.

  ‘I am grateful for your help. Please teach me more.’ I paused. ‘Ket,’ I added proudly.

  She was not as impressed by the fact I’d remembered her name as I was. I was pretty sure she even rolled her eyes, though it was hard to tell, her being so small.

  ‘Well done,’ she said dryly. Clearly somewhat appeased, she began to buzz once more, glowing softly all the while. ‘And what should I call you?’

  I began to stutter something, but she waved me down. ‘I know, I know, you don’t remember, but I can’t just call you ‘core’.’

  She paused, then brightened. ‘How about ‘Corey’?’

  What? True, I couldn’t remember my actual name, but I was fairly certain it was probably something much more majestic and obscure; something many-syllabled, surely, and containing at least three apostrophes. ‘I really don’t think—’

  ‘Corey it is,’ she announced.

  ‘But—’

  ‘What’s that, Corey?’

  I groaned internally. ‘Nothing. Fine. Whatever.’ I sought to change the subject; anything to stop her from repeating my distinctly unexceptional new name. ‘What were you saying about God Cores? What exactly are they— are we?’

  She seemed delighted to be asked a question, and puffed herself up glitteringly. ‘As I was saying, each and every Core is essentially a soul trapped inside a gem. What’s special about God Cores is that they’re summoned through time and space by the needs of the people they’re destined to protect.’

  ‘Summoned?” I asked. “You mean by magic?’

  ‘Yes, and no. It’s magic of a sort, but it’s not so much the will of a wizard as it is the prayers of a people.’

  ‘Wait… you’re saying I’m here because people worship me?’ I couldn’t help but preen at the thought.

  ‘Not exactly. Look, before I tell you anything more, Corey – and before you start suffering from delusions of grandeur – I think it would be prudent for you to take stock of your surroundings – and, of course, your denizens.’

  My denizens? As in, subjects? I felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect, momentarily forgetting the debacle of my new ‘name’. What Ket had just said made instant sense to me. That my purpose here should be to rule over others seemed only natural.

  But where were they? When I’d recently taken that unexpected out-of-body, god’s-eye view of the cavern, I hadn’t glimpsed any likely-looking subjects. Perhaps they lived elsewhere. I tried to look around properly, just like I had earlier. How had I done it?

  ‘Here, let me help you,’ offered Ket.

  My viewpoint suddenly soared so that I was once more looking down on myself from the cavern ceiling.

  Well, this is certainly useful.

  I scanned my surroundings again; the stream, the faraway giant mushroom patch, the gaping tunnel entrance behind it.

  ‘Ket, why is it that I can see like this?’

  ‘Everything you see here is within your Sphere of Influence. That’s the area currently within your control. You can’t move outside it, so you won’t get past the edge of this cavern, for now at least. As long as you’re within your Sphere of Influence, you can view anything as and when you please.’

  ‘Perks of the job, eh?’

  I could see plenty, it was true, but there was still no sign of these ‘denizens’ of mine. In fact, the only immediate signs of life were those dumb-looking creatures in their primitive tent village. Perhaps they were the servants of my people? They certainly couldn’t be…

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

  Oh hell no.

  ‘Ket…’

  ‘Yes?’ she said sweetly.

  I stared down at the hundred or
so sad-looking miniature humanoids. ‘What are those?’ I asked, dreading the answer.

  ‘I’m glad you asked,’ she said, sickeningly enthusiastic. ‘Corey – meet your new denizens!’

  ‘But— but—’

  How could the world be cruel enough to make me responsible for these… these things? I cast my despairing gaze over them, huddled amongst their pathetic camp of shoddy skin tents.

  A small group were poking futilely with sticks at a smoking fire. One of them was simply standing by, watching the others, picking its nose with the enthusiasm of a miner determined to strike gold. Nearby, another was hitting a large rock with a tiny mallet; the reason for this was not immediately apparent.

  I noted another gaggle of the creatures heading our way, trailing raggedly one after the other, led by the familiar ugly sight of the one responsible for digging me up and ditching me here in the first place.

  The sheer impudence of it still left a bad taste in my mind. Or maybe that was just the dirt. I shuddered again at the memory of being clutched within those grubby fingers.

  ‘What are they?’ I asked again, trying and failing to keep the question from sounding like a whine.

  ‘Oh, they’re gnomes!’ Ket said, her voice bright, as though she was pointing out a new species of flower and not a race of potato-shaped humanoids. I struggled to get my head around this.

  ‘You’re saying I’m here… because they ‘summoned’ me?’

  ‘Not directly, but yes. Their village is beset by dire circumstances, and their need has drawn you here. They will worship you, if you let them. And you will help them in return.’

  Questions raced through my mind. What were these ‘dire circumstances’? Why were the gnomes in trouble? How, exactly, did Ket think I could help them?

  Most importantly, what would I be getting out of this arrangement?

  I didn’t ask any of these questions, though. Instead, all I could choke out was, ‘You’re saying I’m a god… of gnomes?’