Chapter 2 #2
Krachma, on the other hand, was from the Elemental Plane of Earth, same as our problem beast, and he was a rank two, which allegedly meant he was better at magic in general than Azarin or me. Hopefully, he’d know what to do.
“This is a Shape Earth spell gone wrong. Can you stop it?”
Krachma was a lob—a warrior race supposedly created by powerful wizards long ago by infusing hobgoblins with earth magic.
The gigantic orange fellow was nearly seven feet tall, muscled like a draft animal, and his many scars took on the appearance of black rock.
He didn’t talk much. It was assumed that was because he didn’t know much of the trade language that everyone else used in the Core, but I figured even if he’d been fluent, Krachma would remain the strong, silent type.
He scowled at our mess. “Krachma has seen this before. It is bad.”
“You don’t say?” I asked as the blob knocked more heavy stones out of our wall. “Do you know how to make it go away?”
Krachma slowly shook his large head in the negative. “Wild spirit snared in spell, tries to grow into real Elemental. Krachma does not know the spell to cleanse.”
We certainly couldn’t allow that here, because true Elementals were incredibly dangerous. I’d made my living trapping Fire Elementals, and if an Earth Elemental was even half as mean as those, letting one loose around innocent bystanders would be a travesty.
“If we can’t banish it back to where it came from, we’re going to have to do this the hard way, then.” I pulled out my bag of Red and prepared to use up the rest of my precious element. “Just don’t hit it with any earth spells. That just makes it bigger.”
“Obviously. That’s just basic magical logic,” Rade said. “Which brainless imbecile tried that?”
“Rufus,” Azarin shouted from above.
“Of course it was. As I so ardently stated the last time we argued about this, Carnavon, we shouldn’t let in every fool who dreams of becoming a wizard.
Yet you continue to take in every stray regardless of their ability, whether it be magical ability or in their ability to pay us, so now we’re impoverished and drowning in a sea of imbecility. ”
The blob knocked out another stone. One of its mouths found the sheet we’d painted the words Outcast Academy on and hung next to our door as our banner, sucked it in like a noddle, and began chewing.
“Can we postpone this debate until later, Rade?”
He drew his dueling saber. “Very well.” Then he looked at his sword and contemplated what exactly he was supposed to accomplish with that against a murderous hill. “We really do need to add some more destructive spells to our repertoire.”
Rade wasn’t wrong about that. The one requirement we put on our applicants was that they had to be willing to share a spell with the rest of us to learn.
This had gotten us to a grand total of two dozen spells between us all, of which I currently held the record at being able to cast the most. But the Outcast’s spells were homebrew experiments, and only a few were really potent.
Meanwhile, the real academies had shelves full of spellbooks and magic that could shake the worlds at their fingertips.
“Right now, we’ll make do.” I reloaded my pistol. “Let’s kill this thing.”
“Descend.” Azarin stepped off the roof and floated down to land gently next to me. She was a lot better at that spell than I was.
Trax pulled out his weirdly twisted coral sword.
Krachma had left his mace home, but he went to one of the nearby shacks and wrenched a big board off the side of one.
He seemed satisfied there were nails sticking out the end of it.
At least the residents of that shack had already left, so no one yelled at him.
Sending Sifuso away hadn’t calmed the beast. On the contrary, it seemed even more agitated now that its chosen prey escaped.
It got even more quivery and bitey when I hit it with a second Shroud of Fire, engulfing our now broken door with flames.
Azarin struck it with another lightning Jolt, as did Rade, as he’d recently learned that spell from her.
Once the fire and sparks died down, Krachma—who knew only earth magic—and Trax—who knew no spells at all—took turns hitting the part that was sticking through the doorway.
All that accomplished was using up more of our valuable magical element and knocking some bits off of it. The blob pushed a whole section of the wall over, and we all scrambled to get out of the way. Now it was free.
Most of our school’s spells weren’t that destructive, but I did have one enchantment that I’d discovered years ago by accident which had proven to be especially dangerous.
I pulled out the iron snail shell I always kept on my person for special occasions, and held it up so my friends could see it. “Take cover.”
“Snail grenade!” Azarin shouted as she dove behind our neighbor’s chicken coop.
The first time I’d put this formula together, I’d blown a big hole in my family’s barge and several smaller holes in myself.
Iron snails were one of the native animals of Fogo, and it turns out when you enchant their shells with Red, they get extremely explosive.
When one of these goes off, high velocity fragments spray everywhere.
I didn’t like the idea of using this spell with innocent bystanders around, but this situation was getting dire.
“Try getting it in its mouth. If it blows up on the inside, we are less likely to be injured.”
“Great idea, Trax.” It was still chewing our flag, so that gave me a target.
I focused on the magical element embedded in the shell until I felt the Red awaken.
As soon the shell began to glow orange, I hurled it with all my might.
As a Trapper on the lava wastes, I’d spent a lot of time throwing rocks at various pests, so my aim was rather good.
The snail grenade landed right in the monster’s big, weird mouth. By the time it disappeared into the churning dirt, the shell was bright as a light charm.
“Get down!” Then I took my own advice, threw myself face first onto the ground, and covered my head with my arms.
Normally, a snail grenade went off with a boom. Covered in dirt, this one was more of a fwompf.
It raised quite a cloud of dust, but we didn’t get pelted with shrapnel. As the dust settled, the monster was still.
Rade lifted his head from where he was hiding behind a fence and shouted, “We’re victorious. Well done!”
Then the blob opened its mouth, let out a bunch of white smoke and a noise that sounded suspiciously like a belch, and went back to chewing our now burning flag.
“Oh, come on!” That had been the most destructive spell in our entire academy. I’d wounded a pirate barge with that one once! We had no one to call for help. The Core City Watch wouldn’t even come into the Under Slump. What were we supposed to do now? Just let it eat the place?
“Banish.”
That command word came somewhere behind me. The blob immediately froze, the life went right out of it, and it crumbled back into ordinary dead dirt.
There was a contingent of men walking purposefully our way. The locals seemed a lot more scared of them than they had the blob monster and hurried to get out of their way. As soon as I saw they were all wearing the same black arm band, I understood why they were afraid.
These were Latrocinium, the brutal gang who all the other gangs of the Under Slump paid their respects to.
There were six in total, each geared up, and appeared eager for a fight.
A couple of them must have been wizards, since they were armed with wands and staffs, and at least one was skilled enough to have just demolished an earth monster we could barely scratch.
All that suggested they’d probably best us easily.
“Predators approach,” Trax sent.
The silent warning was appreciated, but unnecessary, because the men who wore the black band were legendary in this district.
Since the Upper and Lower Aventine had been abandoned by the city to decay into the Slump and Under Slump, the Latrocinium were basically the government here, and the mysterious figure, Carcalla, was their rarely seen, but often heard of, king.
The gangsters looked us over, before the one who was obviously in charge asked, “Which one of you speaks for this sad bunch?”
“I do,” Rade and I responded simultaneously. When I scowled at him, he told me, “I’m nobility, and I was here first.”
“Nobility, my ass. Gaul Haddar left me in charge.”
“Neither of you is in charge of shit,” the gang leader said.
“Carcalla alone is in charge of everything in the Slumps and slits the throats of anyone dumb enough to believe otherwise. I am his appointed representative. As such, I inquired which bum among this gaggle of bums speaks on behalf of the rest of the bums?”
Rade nodded thoughtfully at those words, especially the throat-slitting part. “Perhaps you should handle this one then, Carnavon.”
The gangster caught my name. “You’re the hotlander, Ozwald Carnavon?”
I stood up and brushed myself off, so I’d look at least half dignified before answering, “That’s me.”
“Excellent. I am Joran Vanderhelst. Master Carcalla has sent me to collect your rent.”