Shadowcroft Academy For Dungeons: Year Two, page 11
Logan was struck by his deep connection with Noodle Doodle. It was far more intimate than what he’d felt with his Skullcap Waddlers. It was like the thing was a part of him. Was this how it felt to have kids?
Not only was it fun to be so enmeshed with this spiked monster, but Logan also found this arrangement so natural. The monster gazed at Logan with alive, intelligent eyes.
Logan glanced at Inga’s creation. She’d changed her centipede into a more humanish-shaped creation; it now stood on a dozen creepy insect legs. She added two arms tipped with claws and thickened the armor on her bug warrior’s back. Using one of her native energies, Luminosus, she’d added two glowing eyes above wicked silver mandibles. A hard metal helmet covered the insect man’s head, giving him a Greek warrior vibe. Logan could easily see the centipede warrior with a round shield and gladius in its hands.
As for Tet, she’d increased the muscles of her cat’s legs, making them thick, powerful, and rather funny looking with the long tail and the long snake neck. She must’ve added Umbra to the thing because an indistinct smoke rose from the Mew Serpent’s body. Instead of fangs, she’d changed the teeth into serrated daggers. Green mist rose from the thing’s eyes at first, but then both the eyes and the mist turned black. Logan wouldn’t have been surprised if her boss monster could turn completely into smoke, race through your legs, and appear behind you, ready to strike.
Since both Tet and Inga had added such flourishes to their monsters, Logan decided to play around a bit more. He released Blister Wart Spores, letting the colonies settle into the warg’s flesh. Then he sent a gentle pulse of Rapid Growth into fungal growths on the back of his floor boss. Normally, Blister Warts were innocuous-looking mushrooms, white with red spots, like something out of a fairy tale, but Logan wanted the growths on his boss monster to be black, to match his skin and spikes. He kept the red spots. It made his mushroom beast look more poisonous and diabolical.
It would be a powerful combination. If you attacked the warg, you’d either get spiked, bitten, or infected by the Blister Wart.
Logan tied off the flow and a prompt appeared in his vision: Would You Like to Create a Blistering Death Warg? Yes/No?
Logan liked what he saw. He accepted the prompt.
Would you like to name your Blistering Death Warg? Note: Giving a floor boss a formal name will help the creature maintain memories and form a personality of its own. Yes/No?
That was a no-brainer, since he’d already given the creature a name in his mind. He hit yes, then said the name out loud, “Noodle Doodle.”
The words resonated with a clarion sound that carried in the air like a struck gong. A moment later, sickly green light enveloped the Blistering Death Warg, and energy rushed out of Logan’s core in a tsunami, leaving him reeling. He had to close his eyes or pass right out.
Once the sensation finally passed, Logan cracked his eyes to find his newly minted minion staring at him, head curiously canted to one side, concern etched into the lines of its monstrous face.
Logan grinned. “Aww, you care!”
Not a second later, an explosion rocked the entire dungeon, sending smoke and debris pouring out of the inner sanctum. Logan, Inga, and Tet were showered in rubble.
While his senses were still trying to process what happened, Logan heard a single, piercing scream. That sounded like Marko.
Tet was the first one to pull the plug on her boss, sucking the enhanced Mew Serpent back into her core. Inga followed, reabsorbing her Golden Centipede Spartan.
Not Logan, though. Tet shared one look at Inga and Logan, then took off at a sprint, moving like greased lightning. Inga was only half a step behind her, flitting along the ground with her luminescent wings.
Logan wasn’t going to beat anyone in a footrace, but he had Noodle Doodle. The creature was now the size of a small pony, more than big enough for Logan to ride on. He slipped onto the creature’s back, wrapping his hands around the wicked spikes protruding from Noodle Doodle’s shoulders. The creature surged forward on powerful legs, catching up to Inga and Tet in a matter of steps. Logan raced into the inner sanctum three steps behind the others, scanning the room for the source of the commotion.
A dust cloud lingered in the air, but he could still make out Arketa’s gem, floating above the pedestal formed by the twin coffins.
And thanks to his fungal vision he could also make out the body of Ed the Rot Troll slumped against one of the stone columns—completely shattered, which explained the dust and debris hanging in the air. As for poor Ed, he was clearly dead. And not the kind of dead that dungeon guardians faced on a semi-regular basis. Not the kind of dead you could walk off with a little recovery time and some TLC from Ned and Zed, the rosebush doctors. No, his torso was a mess of ruined flesh, his head gone, his body already decomposing—adding a sweet smell to his usual rank odor. Most devastating of all, though, his core was dark. Shattered.
On the floor under the dead guardian form, sigils glowed, curving arches, swooping lines, and angular symbols, all pulsing. But with each pulse, they began to fade.
Chadrigoth and Marko were nowhere to be seen.
Inga and Tet rushed to see if they could help Ed, though Logan knew they wouldn’t be able to. That dungeon core jewel had cracked completely, and his soul had rejoined the Tree. Logan muttered a prayer under his breath for Ed, then turned his attention to the next issue at hand—finding his friend.
“Marko?” Logan called out. He didn’t hear the satyr, but he heard Steve’s squeaking joints.
Logan sped around the shattered column, and there, among the ruins, was his goat friend, lying on Steve’s lap. The satyr was blinking his eyes.
“What in the holy name of my aunt’s wine spritzer happened?” He coughed, waving away a plume of dust with one hand.
Chadrigoth emerged from the smoke of the explosion with a dazed look on his angular blue face. He wasn’t saying anything, but he instantly narrowed his eyes, glaring at Logan. “What are you looking at, idiot?” he snarled.
Logan ignored the abyss lord. He pulled Marko to his feet. “What happened?”
Inga and Tet came rushing through the dust cloud, followed by a very concerned Arketa. The professor raised a hand, and her dungeon core blasted from the pedestal like a rocket, flying into her waiting palm. She quickly opened a small flap in the belly of her dress, expertly sewn to be invisible, and the gem returned to her stomach.
“Well, answer him please,” Arketa said, voice frosty. “What happened here?”
“Chadrigoth here was making some devil thing that kept looking at Steve like he wanted to eat him,” Marko said after a beat, stealing a sidelong glance at the abyss lord. “Me? I was concentrating on making a buddy for Steve—you know, so they could start a band. Like a soulful acoustic duo. It wouldn’t be Steve and Earl, though—they’d have a real band name, something like This Indulgent Burden. They’d start off just doing coffee shops, you know, or wine bars in Haven’s Home, but then, they’d get a break. Their rise would be meteoric. Of course, more money, more fame would mean more problems. Earl would start snorting Aldaleeran catnip. Steve would be on his third wife. They’d start having artistic differences—”
Arketa snapped her fingers. Logan was surprised she’d let him go on for as long as she had. “Focus, please, Mr. Laskarelis. Did you see anything that might be useful?”
“You mean you didn’t, Professor?” Chadrigoth sneered. “Weren’t you in control of the dungeon?”
Arketa’s jaw tensed, and she lowered her glasses, just a smidge. Chadrigoth’s face turned pale, and he took a step back. He swallowed.
“Sorry, Professor,” he grumbled under his breath, finally averting his gaze.
Arketa scowled. “I was helping Eliza Fixhand with her boss in the other room. My attention was... divided. But I did feel something in this room. An odd presence. When I shifted my attention, it was too late. Ed’s gem had already shattered. There was nothing to be done about it.”
“I didn’t see anything either,” Marko said. “Steve is equally clueless.”
Chadrigoth wasn’t saying anything. He must’ve been still stunned from the Hellgazer’s piercing glare.
Arketa turned away, lifted her sunglasses, and made sure to avert her eyes from the gathering of students. She spent several long minutes crouched beside the decomposing corpse of the Rot Troll, appraising his body while the air cleared.
Students murmured, but again, Chadrigoth was quiet, though he did mutter something to Jimi Magmarty about Ed stinking up the place.
Finally, Arketa stood and adjusted her sunglasses. “It seems likely that Ed pushed himself too hard, too fast, and ruptured his core. It is a rarity, but it does happen.” She crossed one arm across her chest and tapped at her bottom lip with one slim finger. “My best guess is that the odd presence I felt was his would-be floor boss. It’s distinctly possible that he split too much of his core in the creation process.”
Logan listened to her words, but she didn’t sound entirely convinced. Her eyes lingered on the body of the dead dungeon core.
“Not sure if it helps, but I saw markings on the floor,” Logan said. “Runes, or sigils. Not exactly sure what they meant, but they were glowing.”
“Glowing sigils?” Arketa asked. “Now that is unexpected. Did anyone else see them?” she asked, glancing around.
Marko shrugged. Steve shrugged.
Chadrigoth snorted and rolled his eyes. “The idiot is seeing things.”
“This idiot can see you’re a moron,” Logan fired back. “Be careful, or you’ll be the next asshat to have his core cracked.”
“Big words,” the abyss lord snarled, black fire blooming in one of his hands. “And just so we’re clear, you wouldn’t last thirty seconds against me—even if you are Rockheart’s new pet.”
Arketa raised her hands. “The posturing is very impressive, but I would like to know if Inga or Tet saw the sigils.”
Both shook their heads.
Logan didn’t pause. He bent and threw out God’s Eye Caps with a little bit of Rapid Growth. He used his glowing fungal growths to recreate a least a few of the runes.
“That’s basically what I saw.” He swept a hand over the glowing pattern. “I’m definitely missing bits and pieces, but this is the main body of the symbol.”
Inga was already copying them down in her grimoire.
“If that’s the case,” Arketa said with some worry, “then what happened definitely is not normal. That will be all for today. Class dismissed.”
Chapter Eleven
Even without Ed the Rot Troll livening up the Shadowcroft Academy, the next day dawned bright and glorious. Logan was glad for that morning’s intense training with Rockheart, though he did have to wonder if the rector prime could customize his hounds like they’d customized their minions in Arketa’s class the day before.
They’d gone from doomhounds to hellhounds to pit-hounds. What was next? Ultrahounds? Logan wasn’t about to give Rockheart any ideas.
Rockheart was already upset. The Azure Dragon wasn’t in first place in the academy competition. He’d shown them the leaderboard the night before, and their clan was down. At first, they thought it might be because Ed the Rot Troll’s points had been removed, but that wasn’t the case. Inga had pointed out his name in their Dungeon Core Grimoires.
The standings were as follows:
The Crystal Tiger = 1228
The Vermilion Phoenix = 1191
The Azure Dragon = 1175
The Onyx Tortoise = 1173
It was still early in the year, and an extra fifty points could change things dramatically either way, but still, Rockheart didn’t like being in third place, even for a minute. Nor did Chadrigoth, who blamed Logan for not advancing in ranks like he had the year before—while at the same time hinting that Logan might never advance again.
That made Logan work twice as hard at that morning’s session.
Once it was done, Logan said goodbye to his friends and hustled off across the Akros Coliseum, through the Golden Serpent Hall, and out to the northwest courtyard and to the DIE pavilion—the Dungeon Interchange of Entrances.
He was excited for his first elective class, A Kaleidoscope of Killzones: Diverse Dungeon Environments, and wanted to get there a little early. Fifteen minutes prior was one rule the military had pounded into his skull. He also needed some time to think. He loved his friends, but Ed’s death the day before had brought back some bad memories. Logan had lost his parents, first his mom, then his dad. And he’d also lost friends in the service—his leg hadn’t been the only casualty of the war. In many ways, those deaths seemed so distant now, yet the scars ran deeper than he expected.
The DIE pavilion, a stone structure with statues of the four clan masters, had a pedestal with a map of Arborea. Demon skulls marked the entrances of all thirteen dungeons. This place was basically Arborea’s version of fast travel and let him zip around to any of the various dungeons scattered across the sprawling continent. Much quicker than walking, especially since he was still only five foot nothing—he could barely reach the map pedestal. Trying to get out to the Chaos Oasis would be like Frodo trekking all the way to Mordor, and no one had time for that.
He pressed a fat digit against the location marker on the map, channeled in a trickle of Apothos, and was whisked across the realm.
Logan landed on sand, hot sand, and he immediately hotfooted it across the burning ground, out of the sunlight and into the shade of a tall palm tree. A wide spring of crystal-clear water was surrounded by more palm trees, their green fronds waving in a blast-furnace breeze. Even though it was technically fall on Arborea, the air was uncomfortably hot in the World Forge Wastes. Logan would’ve much preferred a dank crypt or the muck of a swamp dungeon.
To the north were the Heckish Hills, where volcanoes spewed smoke and ash into a boiling sky. To the south, the snowcapped Grimjour Peaks glistened in the sunshine. Everything else around Logan was whipping dunes, clumps of palm trees, and old stonework—maybe a leftover temple, hidden away among the swaying foliage.
A sandstone path led to the entrance of the Chaos Oasis. That was where some other students had gathered.
Logan touched his dungeon core gem, took in a breath, and let a few spores leak out of his gills. He remembered the wake the night before in the Golden Serpent Hall, where Ed had been toasted and people told stories about the Rot Troll. There would be an official funeral for his closest friends in Vralkag, and another party that Marko was already excited for, but in the end, life would go on. The Shadowcroft Academy was relentless in its one task: prepare dungeons to defend the Tree of Souls or die trying.
As in the students would die trying.
“Here’s to you, Ed,” Logan murmured. He mimed lifting a glass to the Rot Troll.
Again, Logan thought of his parents. He felt sad for a second, and then he thought of Ed. Logan knew for a fact that the Rot Troll’s essence would return to the Tree of Souls and live on in one form or another. Logan had experienced a little bit of the transcendent reality of the Tree, and it would make a for a nice, comfortable afterlife. Logan’s parents, Ed, they would all be okay. Still, for the living, death sucked. Even knowing that Ed was likely in a better place, Logan still had a lot of questions regarding his passing.
Like, was it really an accident? Professor Arketa hadn’t seemed entirely convinced, and the fact that Shadowcroft had sealed that dungeon location certainly seemed suspicious. So far, there had been two deaths and two dungeons closed down. That couldn’t be coincidence. Logan had no answers, though. It was possible that symbol he’d seen was a lead, but it would take time to find something so obscure in the Codex Athenaeum, the academy’s library, even with Inga’s help.
Mulling over all those questions, Logan headed over to where sandy stone steps disappeared into darkness.
He was glad to see Tet there, eating another one of those triangular cherry pastries that his minion class had been eating the day before.
Logan smiled at the cat woman and offered her a wave.
“Tet-Akhat, fancy meeting you here. This is the second class we have together.”
She smiled and nodded. “Actually, we share three classes. The First Cohort, the Ninth Circle, and the Terrible Twelfth all have Offensive Dungeon Design together.”
“Great,” Logan said with a lopsided smile and a dash of sarcasm. “I get to hang out with our buddy Chadrigoth.”
“Not my buddy,” Tet said sharply. “It’s best if you just avoid him. There’s something wrong with him this year. He was a bullying pustule last year, but this year, he seems more unhinged. He did not have a good summer.”
Logan had a reply on his lips but then Garret the flesh golem shuffled aside and there was Melvin R. Chevalier, selling the pastries out of a little cart.
Tet noticed the look of distaste on Logan’s face.
“What? The pastries are good,” she said matter-of-factly. “Say what you will about his demeanor, but Melvin is a very gifted chef.”
The minute Melvin saw Logan, he immediately closed up his cart, apologized profusely to the line of waiting students, and pushed the wheeled buggy across the sandstone over to Logan. Those oversized white sneakers slapped down on the sandy surface.
“Greetings and salutations, Logan Murray!” the kitchen ghast called. He opened his cart’s lid and waved a big, mottled hand over a variety of sweets. “Would you care for an Apothos-reinforced goodie? While my cherry turnovers are my most successful pastry to date, I do have a delectable cream puff that you might enjoy.”
Logan held up a hand. “I’m good. I had one yesterday. They’re delicious.”
“I know!” Melvin said far too loudly. He was smiling, and his metal teeth glinted in the sunshine. “I was at the Blasted Barrows! You, Marko, and Treacle arrived too late. Unfortunately, I had to close my cart and get to class, but I did quite enjoy the inner sanctum there. And our fair lady Arketa is a true beauty in the classic sense of the word. Like our Miss Tet-Akhat here.”
