My own mana pool is still low but my increased regeneration is rapidly replenishing it. I don’t dare to dip into Medium Meditation, but I push Light Meditation as far as I can.

  At the same time, I pull my bow and quiver of arrows from my Inventory. My best fighting tool is definitely my magic, but I’d rather let my stores replenish themselves a bit. Maybe then I’ll be able to unleash something even more powerful than the fireball from before, especially if Yells helps again.

  In the meantime, I’ll do what I can. I choose my bone-headed arrows, not only because I don’t want to risk wasting my metal-tipped ones, but also for another reason – they’re hollow.

  I take a few moments to imbue the arrowheads and poison within with my magic – each only takes a few units due to the small quantity of liquid held inside so the expense is well worth it. This is a careful mix of the mimic’s destructive venom and the black blob’s stamina-inhibiting poison – it probably won’t have a great effect on the Tier three fellapodil, but any damage is better than none and any inhibitions we can apply to it are good.

  Stepping out of the cage of stalactites and stalagmites, I still half hide behind its protection as I start shooting arrows at the fellapodil. The arrows’ ability to pierce the fellapodil’s hide are hit and miss, and usually only sink into an area which is already damaged. However, full of my magic, I’m able to worm each arrow that pierces even the top layer further into the fellapodil’s body, employing a technique I saw in a video about bee stings. It takes longer, but it’s more worthwhile than just peppering the beast with arrows that barely sink in, if at all.

  At the same time, the others follow my instructions and throw everything they can at the creature. Back to a decent condition thanks to potions, Sirocco divebombs it and shoots off Fire Wings; Bastet breathes fire at its body and agilely dodges its tentacles. The little party of Tier ones strike at every bit of its body that they can reach. Even the hatchlings do their best to rip apart any tentacle that comes near.

  The fellapodil fights back fiercely. Even as my Bound up above send things down to attack it, it harries them in return, its tentacles attempting to grab anyone it can, and shooting out caustic jets of liquid when they back away out of its reach.

  River ends up far more involved in giving healing potions and applying healing poultices to injuries caused by the corrosive substance than actually fighting, but when I touch her side of the Bond, I don’t get the impression that she’s upset by it.

  My vantage point from down in the cavern isn’t great, but I can still see my Bound when they’re close to the edge. Poison and Catch are caught unawares by a jet of caustic liquid. They dodge out of the way, but I can see their injuries are bad.

  River rushes forwards to treat their injuries, not noticing the tentacle snaking up the cliff side.

  “River!” I shout in warning, but it’s too late. It wraps around her ankle even as she turns to run. I start shooting arrows at the tentacle in question, my fear badly impacting my accuracy. Catch, the one she had been healing, starts trying fruitlessly to bash through the tentacle with his club, but the powerful limb shows little impact from the efforts of a Tier two. It pulls River’s feet from under her. A moment later, she’s dangling vulnerably in the air.

  Panic sweeps my insides. I don’t know what to do! She’s high above the cavern, facing straight down. Even if I can induce the tentacle to let her go, she could die from the impact with the unforgiving stone.

  But River isn’t paralysed by the situation as I am. With a strength which her slim frame belies, she pulls herself up so her tail is hanging down but her head is level with her ankle. Abruptly, the tentacle releases her, rearing back. It looks more than a little burned.

  She falls.

  I throw magic into the area below her, the only thing I can think of doing – to transform the hard granite and limestone into softer sand. All the mana I have regenerated goes into doing my best to save River.

  She never lands on it.

  A massive gust of wind slows her fall just enough that a massive pair of jaws can clamp themselves around her. Raven rapidly pulls his head back, just as a pair of tentacles shoot for him. He bellows in anger as another manages to wrap itself around his long neck.

  Green magic sparks along his scales and the tentacle flinches back as it’s burnt by his acidic mana. He withdraws his head beyond where I can see.

  I’m fine! River exclaims in the mental network. I release a sigh of relief, and feel a similar emotion from several others including Bastet.

  Thanks Raven, thanks Windy, I say gratefully.

  Tamer! It’s got through to the water below! Dusty’s voice pulls my attention away. I can’t connect to that – it’s blocking me! I’m trying to stop the water coming in, but it’s fighting me and trying to make more holes!

  I hurry back to the protective cage, tucking my bow away, and then sink my awareness into the earth.

  Dusty’s right. The fellapodil has made a hole in the trapdoor and is doing its best to rapidly widen it. Even as I pour magic into trying to fix it, I have to wonder: was its stunt with River an intentional attempt to divert our attention, or was it just an unfortunate coincidence?

  Creating the trapdoor when the fellapodil wasn’t aware of my actions was one thing; trying to fix it when it’s actively trying to combat me is completely different.

  I try to grow the limestone in spikes to deter it from trying to rip at the other pieces, but it just slips its tentacles through the hole it’s already created and uses that as leverage.

  I try to pierce its body by shooting spikes from the tunnel walls, but its thick, rubbery skin defies my limestone weapons. Worse, its bulbous body easily reforms itself under the pressure of the spike – much like a slug’s might. Granite is just too slow to grow and uses too much mana.

  This isn’t working!

  Desperately searching for an answer to how we don’t lose our prey and let it escape back into an area where we’ll never be able to find it, an idea comes to me. One which will hopefully do much more damage to the fellapodil than limestone spikes.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  It’s a long shot, something I’ve attempted a few times, but never managed to make work. But sometimes desperation is the mother of invention, and I can’t think of anything else.

  I need mana! And Yells, I need your help! I exclaim.

  Joy, Dusty, and Windy are all currently using theirs, but River readily feeds me as much mana as she can. I shove a mana regeneration potion into Yells’ hands.

  Drink that, I order her. She does so and then I reconnect to her mana pool, taking her mana slowly but steadily. I try to match her regeneration rate for now, essentially doubling my own.

  Trying to start with fire didn’t work before; maybe starting with earth will? It will have to – I need to affect the trapdoor, not the area immediately in front of me.

  The earth is as reluctant to accept the fire as the fire is to enter the earth. It’s like the fire realises that earth normally smothers it and it does not want to die. The earth, on the other hand, is not fearful that the fire will consume it, but instead it does not recognise the magic which I’m trying to integrate into it.

  Doesn’t recognise…I gained both Shaping skills by understanding what the elements were individually. Maybe here, I need to visualise what they can be together.

  Aware constantly of the time pressure, I urge the earth to consider how the outside of Happy’s furnace emanates heat – not flame, but heat. And how the earth warms under the sun’s gaze, holding the heat for hours afterwards sometimes. And how it’s possible to cook by placing a rock in the fire and then withdrawing it and using it as a hot surface.

  It feels like both Earth and Fire are paying attention to me, a sense of a small fraction of some ancient awareness touching on me with curiosity. Earth softens its refusal; Fire flickers curiously. I feed the fire magic into the earth, and it enters, yet it is not the same.

  The flickering, dancing nature of Fire has given way to an enduring heat; the hard, resistant nature of Earth has yielded to something softer and more flexible. Barely held within my control is something new and yet still with so many hallmarks of the old.

  I have no time to marvel at what I’ve created, the ease at which it slips through the earth. The fellapodil’s hole is bigger than ever, Dusty practically sweating blood at the strain it’s taking to resist the water it’s trying to bring through.

  When the beast unleashes its domain again, we lose even more ground.

  Beset by the fear of suffocating, Dusty loses control over her blockage and water comes streaming through the hole the fellapodil created. The creature redoubles its efforts, the water now aiding it from the other side.

  I force away the effects of the creature’s domain, burying my consciousness into the earth so I’m only peripherally aware of my bodily sensations. The combination of Fire and Earth that I’ve created isn’t fast and it is very mana-hungry. Wherever it goes it seems to leave parts of itself behind to work on the rock around it.

  I start needing more than just the regenerated mana from Yells, beginning to dig a little into her mana pool itself.

  She feeds me the mana willingly, and somehow does something else. Instead of it just being me taking from her, she’s reaching back along the link to offer something else. Slightly wary despite my trust in her, the situation is too urgent to ask questions; I accept the offer.

  Together, we touch the new type of magic and abruptly I feel it grow in intensity and strength. It moves more easily, and what it leaves behind takes less of its entirety than before. I resolve to talk to her about it later when we’re not in the middle of a battle.

  By the time I send the new magic into the water above my barrier, choosing a spot near the hole within it, I have come to an awareness of what this is: lava magic. The combination of heat and rock.

  When it emerges into the water, a new gout of steam bubbles to the surface. I barely manage to warn my Bound in time for it to emerge. The little party of Tier ones and Fenrir, taking my words to heart about being careful about friendly fire, back off quickly and no one is hurt.

  The fellapodil isn’t so lucky. The superheated rock sends immensely hot steam that sears into the lower regions of the beast. Gratified, I send the lava magic as quickly as I can into the water where it solidifies to become rock, transferring its heat into the water around it and practically boiling the Tier three alive.

  It lets out a cry in a range which I can barely hear, but which shudders painfully through my ears nonetheless. My Bound are not so lucky – every one of them has a better hearing range than I do, which is a downside in this situation. All attacks abruptly cut off as they recoil back from the aural attack.

  That turns out to be a mistake. Intended or not, the fellapodil takes advantage of their momentary incapacitation. In the next moment, it unleashes several attacks.

  Caustic jets shoot from its tentacles, striking several of my Bound in the area above the cavern. At the same time, I hear a cry from Dusty next to me.

  It’s taken back full control of the water! she tells me with distress.

  The warning comes too late. A wave of hot, caustic water rises out of the pit in which the fellapodil is trapped and drives us all against the walls. Then it retreats back into the pit. I cough as I bring my awareness fully back into my body. Ten seconds later, it comes again.

  Dusty, Yells, and I are burnt, scalded, and in pain, but the reinforced stalagmites in front of us keep us from being dragged along with the wave. Fenrir, Bastet, and the little party of Tier ones are not so lucky.

  My heart leaps in my chest as I see them struggling against the waves which just keep coming. Especially when I see a noxious greenish-yellow gas starting to emerge from the pit. It looks almost like dry ice in the way it stays close to the floor and spreads out, but the hint of a smell that I catch makes my stomach drop to the floor.

  Chlorine. A poisonous gas which can kill in minutes if the concentration is high enough. Which, if the look of the cloud is anything to go by, this is.

  Dusty, Yells, get out of here! I order them tersely, using my magic to melt a bigger hole in the defences which will be our death if we stay trapped. Lathani, Ninja, Storm, Fenrir, Bastet, get out of the pit! Don’t go near the yellow-green gas!

  Sibling is in the gas already! Lathani tells me, her voice frightened.

  What? Where? I demand urgently. She doesn’t bother with words, instead sending a quick memory of what happened.

  Storm was dragged by one of the waves to the edge of the pit just before the gas started bubbling out. She hasn’t come out yet.

  Bastet and I both run towards where the juvenile disappeared into the fog.

  Help the others, I tell her sharply. I’ll get Storm. She hesitates. They need you! Go!

  I don’t use the Bond, but she skids to a halt and changes direction anyway, sending me a sense of urgent plea – and trust. If I hadn’t already been utterly determined to save Storm, I would be now.

  Storm! I shout down her Bond even as I enter the cloud myself. The gas is immediately irritating to my eyes and nose and I start coughing. Cursing myself for not thinking about it, I pull a bit of clothing out of my Inventory and soak it with my canteen then hold it to my mouth. Staggering forwards into the dense cloud, I use my Flesh-magic to clear chlorine out of my eyes by over-activating my tear-ducts. The trails of tears going down my cheeks are an easy price to pay for being able to see. Storm! Respond now!

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