Attracted by the vibrations of many faint footsteps, the cave spider cautiously peered out of its burrow at the top of the tunnel. When it saw the unexpectedly large group of two-legged creatures, it immediately retreated again and sealed the entrance with a panel crafted from silk and stone.

The creatures had gray skin and wore soft shoes to creep. When you're one of the smallest of the sentient races, it's not wise to get noticed by possible enemies. Underground sounds travel far.

A little further on, the tunnel widened into a more enormous cave. Stalagmites stretched towards the stalactites in the ceiling and stood close enough to make the way difficult for creatures such as orcs or centaurs. However, they were no obstacle for the duskgnomes. The duskgnome at the top straightened up to his full height of two fingers over a yard. He stroked the gray skin of his bald head and looked around.

With a quiet sigh, he began to count the survivors as they limped into the cavern, their exhaustion evident. Unlike their usual cheerful and restless demeanor, most of them took advantage of the short break to sit down to rest their weary bodies. The stretchers with supply crates were set down, and the gnomes massaged their overworked muscles. Amidst the weariness, the faces of children peeked out uncertainly from the packs in which their parents carried them, a somber reminder of the hardships they faced.

Skorr Callad finished counting quickly. Too quickly. "Two of us are missing. Who's missing? Is anyone missing their partner? Are all the children here?"

None of the group looked at him. He slumped his shoulders. They knew who was missing. Someone had stayed behind. However, he had expressly forbidden it. Resigned, he turned around and stared at the gray stone wall. Illuminated only by the few glowstones they carried at the tip of their walking sticks, but the dim light was enough for the large gnome eyes. The tunnels stretched further in both directions than could be seen through the many twists and turns. He continued to stare at the cave wall while asking, "Who stayed behind?"

The voice that answered him was quiet, and he made an effort not to identify the speaker: "Modd and Eredd."

Nothing more was needed. Modd was old and had already suggested several times to stay behind so as not to delay the fleeing group any further. Eredd was one of the stone shapers. The two had proposed their plan several times before, and Skorr rejected it vigorously each time. Now, they had carried it out without his consent. Eredd had closed the cave behind them, and Modd had stayed on the other side of the barrier to give him time to make the barrier thick enough. In the last stage, they had passed through several narrow passages where this was possible. Where only one of the pursuers came through at a time, he could take him out and then use his corpse to block the passage. Zombies were stupid. Until their leaders caught up, he could stop the advance long enough for Eredd to build a thick enough barrier. He looked accusingly at the other gnomes. They all lowered their eyes guiltily. "I understand. Then, let's make sure their sacrifice wasn't in vain. We'll take a break for a quarter of a candle mark, then set off again."

Skorr took a blanket out of his backpack and folded it up on the floor to sit down and lean against the wall, groaning. He didn't bother to set up any guards. If their pursuers managed to catch up with them now, they were doomed either way.

He closed his eyes and rested.

They hoisted their burdens once more and set off. Kardd, one of the last stone listeners in the group, caught up to him and walked silently by his side for a few steps. Then he began to speak softly, "Tell me, where exactly are we fleeing to? I didn't want to alarm the others. I don't think they've had a chance to think about it yet. The other cities have fallen in the war against the necromancers. They've unearthed and wiped out the last of our underground cities as well. Every Solium Forge, every alchemy lab, razed to the ground. Tarravanta was the last gnome city. Left deserted, or so we thought. At least, that's what I thought."

Skorr put his hand on his shoulder as he walked away: "Stop blaming yourself all the time. You couldn't have known. I've read the old scrolls, too. Tarravanta was abandoned, its inhabitants overrun as they fled, two days' journey from their city. The undead army was wiped out shortly after by a whole horde of revenants. The city should have been safe. Especially after the stone seals on the access tunnel were still intact."

The two walked on in silence.

At the next break, Skorr took out a rolled-up map from a round container and spread it out on the floor. The deep paths were marked in rough charcoal lines. Next to them were comments and inscriptions in several languages. Skorr spoke quietly so that the others could not hear him: "The tunnel has only a few branches. One leads deeper into the grassy plain just before the shield forest. This one seems to lead to Mulnirsheim but ends in a dead end far below the town."

Kardd looked at the spot on the map and rubbed his face thoughtfully with his hand: "The path is labeled in dwarven. That at the end is the dwarven scrawl for the end of the path. Or something like that. It doesn't necessarily mean that the tunnel ends there. Duskgnomes can get through paths that a dwarf is just too big for."

"Should we bet our lives on it?"

"No, not as long as there are still alternatives. Which route would you take?"

"In the same cave, another path branches off here up to the surface, onto the plain before Mulnirsheim. A little further on, there's another one that ends right at the pass. I want to take that one. Then, into the fortress town. We'll be safe there."

"You want us to go to the human city? You can't be serious!"

"Do you have a better idea? Any? Yes, we'll end up as miners or unskilled laborers. Or as another minority who cooks and sells exotic dishes in back alleys. But we'll live!"

"You call it life. I just call it a slower death."

Skorr was silent for a long time. His voice sounded agonized as he asked, "What do you suggest instead?"

"Nothing! I have no idea! I don't have a better way. Or any solution at all. We still have the clothes on our bodies and as much food as we could carry. Or what's left of it." Kardd lowered the hands he had been gesturing wildly with and looked around. He had become loud enough that the others had almost all heard him. Large gnome eyes looked at him wearily and resignedly. No one seemed surprised.

Skorr now addressed everyone loudly: "We will survive! People will look down on us and laugh at us. But we will live! From there, we will look for new destinations."

He only received tired nods, but that was all he could expect. The group trudged on in silence.

A shrill scream echoed through the corridor from far behind, breaking the silence.

Kardd said what everyone already knew: "They've broken through and caught Eredd. Now they're back on our trail." He knelt on one leg and carefully placed one hand on the stone floor so that only the tips of his fingers touched the stone. Everyone froze and watched. After a few heartbeats, he nodded and stood up: "They're two hours behind us. At least twenty. Their steps are shuffling and erratic, probably all lesser zombies. The higher undead moves too quietly to sense them, but no doubt they're close behind." He glanced at the exhausted and weakly armed figures around him. His shoulders slumped powerlessly. Only through the silence could his soft words be heard: "Not that it makes any difference."

Skorr clapped his hands, which made everyone wince, "We're not going to sit down and get eaten. If they want us, they'll find us running. Onward!"

The group settled into a reluctant trot, with Skorr and Kardd leading the way.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

As hours passed, the group slowed down. Again and again, someone stumbled and was hoisted up and dragged along by the others. No one fell behind, but the entire group's pace dwindled. At a junction, Skorr signaled for a halt. "Stop. Let's take a short break."

He pulled Kardd aside, his voice urgent. "We won't make it to the exit just outside Mulnirsheim. I see only two possibilities: Either every one of us who can fight makes a last stand so the women and children may escape, or we veer off here onto the plain and try our luck in the open ground. But up there, we have no chance against the undead. I have no idea whether it's day or night. If it's night, we're doomed. During the day, we might stand a chance, as the undead are slower in daylight. Some of the higher undead are even damaged by sunlight. According to many legends, they stay underground during the day and only emerge after sunset. What's your take?"

Kardd glanced back at the group, scattered on the ground, their breaths coming fast. Shaking hands reached for bits of food or sips from drinking tubes. He turned to Skorr, "They can't fight anymore. Not for long enough to make a difference. We'll have to risk crossing the plains."

Skorr surveyed the group, then nodded reluctantly. Minutes passed as he waited for his people to regain some strength. Duskgnomes were resilient, but the undead never tired. As long as the Gnomes kept moving, they maintained their lead. But whenever they rested, the pursuers closed in. Skorr waited a little longer, then spurred the group forward.

Silently, Skorr and Kardd led the way, sometimes side by side, occasionally single file in narrow passages. After a while, Kardd sniffed the air. Skorr followed suit but detected nothing unusual.

"What's wrong?"

"There's a breeze from the front. It carries with it a slight smell of flowers and grass. It's fresh air from outside. It's not far now."

Skorr was silent for a moment. Then he began to speak firmly: "When we turn up there, I'll..."

Skorr fell silent for a moment before speaking firmly, "When we reach the surface, I'll..."

Kardd cut him off abruptly, "Forget it! You can't mislead them. The wind will carry our scent straight to the undead. They'll never fall for it. You'd be sacrificing yourself for nothing."

Skorr nodded in agreement, even though Kardd didn't meet his gaze. Then, without warning, Kardd halted. Skorr took two more steps before freezing too. Kardd pressed his fingers lightly against the rock wall, and the group behind them stumbled to a stop. Kardd wheeled around, silencing the few who still moved until there was complete silence. His fingers detected vibrations in the rock, his face betraying panic for the first time in their long escape, "Someone is coming towards us from the front. A group. Maybe a dozen or more. It's hard to tell, but there seem to be more footsteps farther behind."

"Undead?"

"They move slowly and erratically. Stumbling and unsteady. So yes, probably undead."

"But we'll make it to the junction before they do?"

"I don't know exactly where the... They've stopped. They must be at the junction."

Skorr simply stood still and swayed slightly on his feet. His face was rigid and showed no movement as he stared ahead.

"Skorr? Skorr! What are we doing?"

The duskgnome opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to say. The silence enveloping the group of refugees grew deeper, evolving from the hush of a paused conversation to the oppressive stillness of a miner trapped beneath a collapsed tunnel. As the buried miner's breath faded, the silence intensified, casting a pall over the duskgnomes. Even the children, accustomed to remaining silent, hesitated to breathe. Then, one of the smallest among them, overcome with fear, let out a quiet sob. In the midst of utter silence, the sound of fear seemed to reverberate through the entire tunnel.

Skorr's gaze lifted, a spark of determination igniting in his eyes. "No!" he exclaimed, defying his own inner doubts. "No! We're not done for yet. We won't surrender! Kardd, gather those who can fight from a distance. I'll scout ahead and assess their numbers. We'll catch them off guard, crush them, burst into daylight, and flee." Without pausing for a reply, he slipped away soundlessly on his soft leather soles.

As a stone runner, he was unmatched in his ability to navigate caves without detection. A few minutes later, he began to slow down, startled by the realization that the undead were already dangerously close. Moving as silently as a snake, he crept along the last stretch of stone floor, cautiously peering over a rock into the sloping tunnel ahead. To his alarm, a side tunnel branching off to the right came into view, and before him stood several humanoid figures. Their hunched postures, sluggish movements, and stumbling steps were unmistakable signs of the undead. The absence of heavy armor and the chaotic assortment of weapons further confirmed his suspicions.

A tall, slender figure stood amidst the group, towering over the others with her height and upright stance. Strands of straw-colored hair, mottled with varying dark hues, cascaded down past her shoulders. As she turned around, Skorr caught sight of a woman's face. Her skin was pale as an albino lizard's, her eyes devoid of life, resembling those of a newt. Deep wrinkles crisscrossed her features. Skorr's throat tightened. A vampire. Not just any vampire, but one showing signs of age, possibly an ancient from the old Cathurian Empire.

An aura of despair enveloped the vampiress, its source unclear to Skorr. Was it hunger, the loss of another prey, or fear of the sunlight? Perhaps it was a deliberate attempt to weaken her enemies, or simply the unconscious projection of her own emotions.

The duskgnome observed in silence as the figures glanced around. One of them settled on a nearby rock, causing Skorr to nearly leap from his hiding spot. Undead creatures didn't rest, didn't tire. With newfound hope, he scrutinized the group more closely. The vampiress leaned against the tunnel wall.

Then, a figure in a hooded robe stepped forward and lowered the hood, revealing a face. "We must press on. Our pursuers draw near."

Skorr could contain himself no longer. He rose and shouted, "You're not undead!"

Instantly, the group that Skorr had mistaken for zombies sprang into action. Men armed themselves with bows, swords, and shields. Meanwhile, the duskgnome stood with arms outstretched and palms open.

The vampiress approached Skorr, renewed vigor in her movements. "If this is an ambush, you'll need to explain yourself."

"I am Skorr, clan chief of the Seven Pillars clan of duskgnomes."

She eyed him suspiciously. "The duskgnomes perished in the Necromancer War."

"Unless a miracle happens, we will perish today. But we’re not dead yet."

"I am Ulmenglanz, Queen of the Border Forest. Supreme Dryad of the Southern Realms."

Skorr noted her deathly pale skin, deep wrinkles, and the effort she put into sounding regal. Though her eyes lacked life, a glimmer of something stirred within them.

"You don't look very regal... or very healthy," Skorr remarked.

"Dryads thrive in sunlight. I've been surrounded by darkness and damp stone for over a week now. The border forest is ablaze; the dryads vanished with their trees. If you duskgnomes are gone from the world tomorrow, the dryads will be said to be as dead as a duskgnome."

"Is that a common saying?" Skorr lacked the energy to get angry, though he wished he did.

The man who had addressed the Dryad Queen coughed sheepishly. "It's a saying often heard in the Northlands, I'm afraid. My apologies. I am Esche, the druid. Time is of the essence, and our enemies are closing in. Can we unite to survive? How many warriors do you possess?"

"Warriors? A handful. One hundred and twenty-six women and children, all on the run for weeks. Even the gnomes' endurance has its limits. We've long since reached ours."

The warriors, including two female rangers, began to discuss quietly. A burly figure in layered leather armor leaned down to Esche. His hushed voice echoed through the cave. "We're almost there. Just the tunnel up to the plain and a sprint to the fortress city. We'll be safe there and can gain XP for rescuing the dryad princess. Our scout should return any moment. What are your thoughts?"

Esche pondered for a moment, shaking his head. "We can't abandon the women and children."

"What's the plan then? Send them up the tunnel and hold our ground down here? We wouldn't last an hour against our pursuers. We need more of a head start. They've got undead and necromancers trailing them too. We're not cut out for a stand-off. We'd need knights in full plate armor with tower shields for that. No rangers in light gear. And our bows are useless in these tunnels."

"At the top of the tunnel, with the sun behind us, we'd have an advantage. My druid magic barely works underground. But up there... I might be able to summon a tree guardian. When the princess decides on her character class..."

The pale woman interjected, "I haven't made up my mind yet. I won't be rushed into a decision that will shape the rest of my life! I can only become a cleric with a High Cleric's approval. And only as a cleric can I learn the powerful healing magic I want. Depending on the church I join. Even without a character class, I still have my knowledge of nature's magic. Forget the tree guardian. We'll block the exit with thorny vines. Undead don't carry torches or lamps. Necromancers don't know fire magic. Without fire, they'll struggle to overcome this obstacle."

Esche surveyed the group, seeing nods of approval all around. He knelt down before the princess. "Your Highness, we'll serve you to the end. You can escape while the rest of us hold the tunnel after the gnomes pass through."

He waited until she graciously motioned for him to rise. Then he turned to Skorr. "Tell your clan to hurry. They need to reach the surface through the tunnel before one of our pursuers catches up with us."

The duskgnome was about to dart off, but then he pivoted back. "We'll never forget this!" A crimson glow ignited on his forehead, and a shimmering exclamation mark materialized for a fleeting moment before dissipating. Esche, Ulmenglanz, and her companions all received the message:

Quest: Rescue the Duskgnomes was automatically accepted.

If successful, bonus XP will be awarded for accepting the quest without the promise of a reward.

The duskgnome dashed away, oblivious to the mark on his brow.

His people would survive! Finally, they had a fighting chance.