Academy of Outcasts, page 13
Three more of the Skerret boys who’d been sitting there sprang up to join in, while their family boss watched, seemingly annoyed by the show. There were a bunch of them, and one of me, so I ran like I had an Elemental trying to eat me.
The one in the hallway attempted to block my way, but he was dizzy from getting his nose flattened, so I rolled right over him. Sadly, I landed on some of that damnable glass I’d been stepping on earlier, which cut into my knees as I slid across the floor. That was the least of my problems right then, so I bounded back up and kept going, mob of Skerrets right behind me.
So much for our traditions of hospitality.
Once out of the dark, I ran through the crumpled house. On the bright side, despite being the Skerret’s neighbors, the other residents of the giant hovel didn’t intercept me, and nobody was inclined to get involved to help them. On the downside, none were going to help me either.
I was heading for the front door when I spotted a couple men coming up the stairs from the street. A Skerret chasing me shouted, “Yo, Roche, grab that fool!”
These two also had the look of Fogo folk, and they’d certainly help their kin beat the hell out of me, so I didn’t even give them the chance to think about the sudden request and crashed right through them. I had elevation and momentum on my side, so they went tumbling down the stairs. I tripped, rolled the last few painful steps, and popped right back up, sprinting down Rellotis Street.
The dwarf who’d guided me to the Skerrets was lying at the bottom of the steps again, and he shouted after me, “You should’a tipped me a coin. I would’a warned you they were a gang of cut throat scum!”
The Skerrets caught sight of me, and the race was on. I had to push my way between the humble crowds. My pursuers didn’t have that problem, because from the bloody noses, split lips, and anger in their voices the locals knew to get out of their way or else.
We kept running for a couple blocks. My heart was pounding and they were gaining on me. My only hope was to get out of view. I wasn’t going to do that on the main street, so I took a left at the next alley. It was filled with trash and rats. Thrashing my way to the end, I hid around the corner of a pile of bricks. The instant I stopped, my lungs rebelled against the putrid air and I started coughing. I had to activate my air charm just to keep breathing.
One of them must have seen me dip into the alley, or one of the local witnesses pointed out where I’d gone, because they came in after me, leaving me no choice but to run again. I went down the alley and turned onto the next street. Then the next. Then I had to double back and take a different alley when I noticed one of the Skerrets had gotten ahead of me somehow. This place was a maze. And they knew it well, while I didn’t.
I spied stairs leading downward to an even lower, darker level. Taking those, slipping and sliding, I nearly broke my ankles because the stones were slick with green slimy mold, which wasn’t something we had to deal with back home.
The people of this lower level of the Under Slump were even poorer and sadder than those above; an impossible achievement if ever there was one. There were also fewer humans. A couple of skinny orcs bought bowls of stew served up from a big pot by a hunched over frog-faced creature dressed in rags. There were strange, extremely hairy, gnome sized things, and they immediately retreated into their shacks as I ran past. I took cover behind a mound of garbage to catch my breath.
I didn’t know how to get out of here, but there were more stairs to the side, even narrower and slicker than the last set, going down to an even deeper, darker level. I really didn’t want to have to go farther down. From what I’d read, beneath the Core City lay the ruins of the ancient civilization that predated the Nexus, and nowadays, those dark caverns were a lost underworld of old magical experiments and degenerate monsters.
Cut throats or not, Skerrets and Roches must be nearly as stubborn as Carnavons, because they came down the stairs after me. When the orcs saw the first of them arrive, they made threatening gestures and shouted unintelligible slurs. More humans kept coming until the orcs were severely outnumbered, so they wisely took their supper bowls and walked away.
The boss, Skerret, yelled a question at the frog-thing, who croaked in fear and promptly pointed right at where I was hiding.
Well… down it was.
I didn’t even make it twenty steps before I lost my footing and ended up bumping and sliding all the way to the bottom on my ass. Getting up, it was so dark down here, that if I tried to keep running, I’d surely break my neck. Slowing to a stumbling walk, I kept my hands extended in front of me. A crawler’s light charm was in my pack, but there was no time to find it, and turning on a light down here would only serve as a beacon telling the Skerrets exactly where to go to beat me to death.
And murder me they certainly would, because I’d bloodied some of them and led them on a chase in front of many witnesses. The Under Slump was a whole lot bigger and worse than the nastiest parts of Fort Silver, but I reasoned there were some universal truths when it came to gangs, and one of them was that they couldn’t abide losing face. They’d worked too hard not to kill me right now. I didn’t know what kind of criminals they were, but surely they were up to something nefarious to be that worried about secret watchmen or enforcers spying on them.
Sure enough, a light source was moving down the stairs. From the white color, it was magic, so at least one of them had a charm that would enable them to spot me. The treacherous steps slowed them down a bit, but they’d be on my trail again soon.
There was some light ahead, so I stumbled along in that direction. It turned out to be coming from a metal grate in the ceiling. Above came the noise of people walking, having normal conversations, and going about their business. That little bit of extra light coming from the upper level didn’t make me feel any better, because it revealed an unnerving scene all around me. There were animal bones everywhere. A gigantic rat was gnawing one of the bones, and when it saw me, it stood up on its hind legs and ran away, still holding the bone in its hands.
Yes. Hands. I’d not known there were rats with hands. The Core was full of surprises.
I kept going. The predominate sound here was water dripping. A cold drop hit my neck and rolled down inside my shirt, which was so uncomfortable that I’d rather have gotten showered by sparks. My feet splashed into a puddle, and with each step, the water kept getting deeper and deeper. It rose over the tops of my boots and instantly soaked my feet. When the water was up to my knees I had no choice but to stop. From the sound of all the water moving, this must have been an underground part of that giant canal system I’d seen from above. If I tried to cross it, I’d surely drown.
The magical light was getting closer. “Give it up, Carnavon,” someone shouted. “Unless you can hold your breath a real long time and swim real good, which we know you can’t because there ain’t no swimming in Fogo, you’re trapped.”
I was scared, blind, and freezing, but that threat made me angry. This wasn’t a trap. I’d spent the last few years trapping deadly Fire Elementals. Trapping was a test of skill, courage, and wits. They were just a bunch of bullies who’d gotten lucky I didn’t know the terrain, and their only threat came from their sheer numbers. Calling that a trap was an insult to my profession.
If it was a fight they wanted, then it was a fight they’d have. So I waded back onto dry land and clumsily moved to the side until I found a low stone wall I could crouch behind. That would be my fortress. I knelt there, took my pack off, and began groping about in the dark for my enchantments.
One of the Skerret’s shouted in surprise, and there was a rattle of bones. “Damned ratlets! Scram.”
So that’s what the little rat-men must be called, which was some useless trivia to file away before my murder, but I just focused on getting my enchantments ready. Some of them were Argent issue, like the light charm or the necklace which purified the air in front of my face. Others were of my own invention, like the shroud of fire, my handful of steel screws, or the snail grenades.
“I tried to be nice,” I shouted toward the approaching light. “I didn’t want any trouble, but you had to go and break cadre traditions. I don’t know what trogshit barge you come from, but that’s not how it’s done where I’m from.”
“Don’t get all high and mighty with us about traditions, kid. The bargemaster who got my family exiled from our cadre was a Carnavon.”
We had cousins all over the place, and a bad tendency to end up in positions of responsibility, so that wasn’t too much of a surprise. “Did you deserve it?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s besides the point.”
The fact I’d challenged them made them slow down a bit. Now that their magical light was nearer, I could see it was a wide tunnel I’d been wandering down, about ten yards across, probably built for drainage. When I glanced behind me, there was nothing but dark water and a tunnel roof that gradually came down to meet it. I wasn’t getting out that way. Mr. Skerret hadn’t been lying about that. My air charm could filter poison, but I really doubted it would be able to keep my lungs from filling with water. A tunnel seemed a fitting place for me to fight to the death, because I’d spent most of my life expecting to die in a tunnel. I’d just always thought I’d die surrounded by lava, not water. Probably roasted by a gurgler, not mangled by the hands of my countrymen.
“We don’t have to do this. I’m no watchman. I ran from them today. That’s how I ended up here. I’m not an enforcer either. I despise the Argents. I skipped out on my contract. I’m not spying for them.”
“Even if you’re telling the truth, we’re a bit past that now, kid.”
I drew Gax’s pistol. Hopefully the wax coating on the paper shells had protected the cartridges from getting wet. When I cocked the hammer, the metal-on-metal noise was very loud inside the tunnel.
“He’s got a gun,” one of them warned.
“Damned right I do!”
“So do we,” Mr. Skerret responded. And there were at least three or four clacks as their weapons were readied. “And we got more.”
That development wasn’t surprising in the least. “You all can surely kill me, but I swear to Ketekunan, Saint of Persistence, that I will take some of you with me.”
“If we’re invoking powerful figures now, even the dreaded Carcalla respects our hold on the crumpled house. We run that part of the Under Slump. You think any of my boys are scared of getting shot by some lowly bargeman?”
“Go to hell. I’m a trapper.”
“Ah, we got us a lava walking man of danger here. So you probably know how to shoot pretty good then, Mr. Carnavon?”
“I killed a few pirates the first day I fired a rifle, Mr. Skerret, and that was a long time back. Fucking try me.”
With gun in one hand and snail shell in the other, I risked a glance over the top of my little fort. My foes were just shadows in front of the white light. I’d been hoping they were clumped together enough I could hit them all with a snail grenade, but they’d wisely spread out from one end of the tunnel to the other, so that was unlikely.
I ducked back down to reevaluate my plan, but they’d spotted me.
“No use hiding. Come out and take your beating like a man.”
“I’m not hiding. This is what we call a defensive position.”
He laughed. “I like you, kid. But you’re either lying to us, so you’re a threat and somebody means to try and pin that assassination attempt on us. Or you’re telling the truth, and I can turn you over to the Argent’s for a sizable bounty. We get this over with fast I can even get you back to the market before the gate closes… Dean?”
“Yeah, boss?” I recognized that voice as being the one who knew some magic.
“Fry his ass.”
The wall in front of me exploded.
The wave of force threw me back into the water. Gravel that had been pulverized from the rocks splashed down around me. All I could see was a blue streak from the flash that had accompanied his spell.
Saints, this wasn’t even a real wizard! This was some scrub gangster trash nobody, and that was still one of the most powerful spells I’d ever seen. I’d been deluded to think I could come here and make it as a mage.
Except in that moment, the only future I could afford to think about was measured in seconds, not years. Still underwater, I concentrated on the snail shell clutched in my fist, activated the embedded Red, and thrashed my way back upright. I came out spitting nasty water and incoherent curses.
Half blind, all I could make out was shapes moving my way, laughing at my misfortune.
I hurled the snail shell out between them. It hit the ground and bounced. It must have begun glowing because one of them shouted, “Scatter!”
I pointed Gax’s handgun at the moving shape I thought was their wizard. Even if I could see the sights, which I couldn’t on account of the bad light and the flash that scalded my eyes, I’d never fired Gax’s pistol before, so I had no idea how accurate it was. By faith and instinct I pulled the trigger. The boom was incredibly loud in the enclosed space. I was rewarded with a yelp, but if it was from an actual impact, or just the surprise of a near miss, I didn’t know.
With my snail grenade about to cook off, I lay back beneath the water, broke open the pistol’s action, and pulled out the ruined case. When I got another paper cartridge from the loops on Gax’s belt it felt softened by the water. I could only hold my breath and pray the wax seal kept the powder dry.
The snail grenade was even louder than the gunshot, and even beneath the water, I still felt the whump against my ears.
Pistol reloaded, I came up gasping to find the Skerret’s light charm had been dropped in a puddle. Between the rippling water and fresh smoke, crazy flickering lights were being cast on the walls. Some of my foes had thrown themselves down to try and avoid the grenade and probably made it in time, but one man began screaming, “Me thumbs gone! He blew me thumb off!”
“Shut up and shoot him!”
I cocked the hammer and pointed the pistol at the blurry shape who bellowed that order.
Click.
So much for the quality waterproofing of a plane that had almost no water.
I dropped back down. There were a series of bangs as I crawled through the water back behind the remains of the wall. There were splashes as bullets hit. Then one bounced off the rock next to my head and the deformed projectile sped off with a whine.
The barrage stopped. I risked a peek. While some of them were reloading, the others were approaching, probably with knives to carve me up. They were spread out, so I might only hit only one or two with my remaining grenade, and it was useless against the closer ones without blowing myself up with them.
“You’re a dead man, Carnavon!”
Sad part was, Mr. Skerret was most certainly right about that. I pulled a handful of Red infused screws from my pocket and concentrated on activating their magic. They immediately began to warm, and within a second were hot enough to burn my skin. Thank goodness Red was waterproof! Then I tossed the screws over the wall.
I called this particular creation, Carnavon’s Screws of Chaos. When I’d first discovered this combination, I’d set fire to our trapper’s camp and nearly scared poor Harrison Killroy to death. My brother, Robert, had not been pleased. I’d gotten most of the kinks worked out since.
The screws hit, bounced, and began emitting a whistling noise, before they started to careen about wildly under their own energy. They weren’t nearly as fast as bullets, but they were red hot, furious, and flying about out of control. When they hit water they hissed and died in a puff of steam—which was not something I’d ever been able to test before—but the ones that hit clothing or skin tended to stick and burn.
Skerrets and Roches cried out as they were bitten by the angry chunks of metal. The ones who’d been closest threw themselves into the water to try and quench the flames. There was a lot of splashing and yelling.
I was feeling pretty cocky about the effectiveness of my spell craft, until their wizard hit me with that blue spell again. The rest of my shelter disintegrated and I was flung back hard against the tunnel wall. He must have only known one spell, but he was certainly good at it!
With everything bruised, I hit the water in a deeper spot and panicked, flailing, when I didn’t immediately touch the bottom. I couldn’t breathe! My feet touched something solid, and it took everything I had to struggle back toward solid ground. I got my head above water and briefly gasped for air.
A Skerret threw a rock and hit me in the side of the head. Reeling, I went back under. I was blacking out. I was going to drown.
Except something bumped me underwater, sliding smoothly past. Whatever it was, it was big, and it was fast. It also must have noticed my pathetic kicking, because a very strong hand grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me to where I could touch the ground, before letting go.
As I crawled onto the ground, coughing and gagging, head spinning, barely holding on to consciousness, I slowly realized there were angry, wounded Skerrets all around me, pointing guns and brandishing knives.
It was over.
“To hell with the Argent’s reward. We’re gonna take this pain in the ass, saw his head off, and take it back to the crumpled house to hang on the wall as a trophy.”
“My pleasure, boss.” One of them knelt next to me with a fat blade in hand, but then he stopped, steel inches from my neck, as he noticed something moving in the water. “Oh shit.”
A grey fin was slowly rising above the surface.
“It’s that squalo!” one of them cried.
“Nobody make any sudden moves. Back away from the water, real slow.”
The thug who’d been about to cut my throat stepped back gingerly, with a look of utter terror on his face. He cringed when his boots made a splash. The fin just stayed there, unmoving.
