Shadowcroft Academy Year 2 - Chapter Forty-One

Logan Murray toured the gloomy Winterdark Halls noting how many ingenious things they’d added to the cold, dark dungeon, which was far dryer than Logan would’ve preferred. Yes, it was better suited for his spores than the Bloodrock, but it still wasn’t ideal. Logan was made for bogs and forests, places filled with damp green things and rot. Deep under the Grimjour Peaks, it was too cold for anything to rot properly.

In some ways, the Winterdark Halls were just the cold version of the Bloodrock—lots of big galleries, deep cracks, and pillars of all shapes and sizes.

None of this was ideal. Chadrigoth in the Bloodrock was the worst possible scenario. Good thing no one was in there with him. However, the first person to walk in would probably die. The abyss lord would crack their gem and use the Apothos to break the final seal. Then? Most likely, Chadrigoth would become too powerful to stop. That or he’d unleash something awful. No way to tell how it would play out, but either scenario was a disaster for Logan and his friends.

Everyone in the Terrible Twelfth were on edge.

Marko, Steve, and Treacle had dropped by the inner sanctum just in case anything bad happened. They were there now, chatting with Inga while Logan surveyed every inch of the Winterdark Halls, located in the heart of the Grimjour Peaks, just down the way from the Mines of Madness. While the mines were all railroad tracks carved out tunnels, the Winterdark was epic galleries, deep ravines, and wide staircases. It would be perfect for a major ice demon with delusions of grandeur.

However, Logan and Inga made do. He paused at a room bristling with Crimson Coral Fungus. Based on some inspiration from Treacle, he’d turned the room into an elaborate labyrinth of Coral, sharp enough to put through skin and muscle like a surgeon’s scalpel. He’d also dotted the winding passageways with deadly digestive pits—covered with a thin sheen of mucal fungus—and Gem-Studded Puffballs. When those bad boys went off, they would pepper Chadrigoth’s minions with chunks of razor-sharp shrapnel.

They also had a trap where Inga’s Tsuki Ants, covered in Blister Wart, would drop onto the abyss lord from above. Not only would he get a nasty bite from the ants, but the Blister Wart would also totally destroy his blue skin. They’d hit Chadrigoth where it hurt—his vanity.

There were a ton of the insect and mushroom combos, and he’d even added Wolverine-like Crimson Coral Fungus claws to Inga’s Golden Centipede Spartan. Given his name, Logan had a special fondness for Wolverine. Roy Boy, the X-Man Centipede Spartan, would be the initial big boss up front, and unlike their final the year before, Logan would be there on the front lines.

The Winterdark had a nice entrance, with a big, cold crevice you had to cross. That was where they placed Inga’s new Lunar Horror Creations. She’d modified them so they could carry Logan’s Spore Wargs, including a few Blistering Death Wargs; the Lunar Horrors would swoop in from above and drop the vicious doggos onto anything unlucky enough to get in the way. Thanks to gravity, their spiky would do extra damage after a long drop. Then, the Lunar Horror would attack with their nightmare fangs and sharp claws, leaking poisonous moth dust. Super deadly. Super gross.

After fighting Chadrigoth in the Dry Desert on Bharoosh, Logan wasn’t going to be messing around with an offensive attack into the Null Arena. They’d be on the defensive and try and stop Chadrigoth up front. However, Inga did have a good plan on sending Logan’s mushroom troops, with heavy support from her Spike Flies, into Chadrigoth’s dungeon over in the Bloodrock.

Both Logan and Inga figured that Chadrigoth would be desperate for a gem so he could break the final seal. That meant he’d be forced to run their dungeon to get to their inner sanctum. That gave them a definite advantage.

At the same time, they had to pass their final, so it was a tricky proposition. Logan was confident that if they could pin the murders on Chadrigoth, whatever else they did, that not only would the Azure Dragon get some needed points on the leaderboard, but they would also pass all of their classes. If Logan and Inga could flush out the murderer, they should pass their sophomore year, right?

Logan made his way into the inner sanctum, nodding in appreciation at all the changes they’d made over the past few hours. They’d created a series of ledges, each a different layer of mushroom and bug fun—fungal taps and killer Inga insect monsters. At the very top, on a dais, sat the pedestal where the two gems floated. So deep underground, it was cold and unfortunately dry. Not great for his spores, but it would still work.

Up top, Logan’s gem was normal, but Inga’s core pulsated. Her knot burned hot like a molten lead shoelace. Despite his reassurances that everything would be fine, Logan had some very real concerns that Inga might advance during their final. Since he was connected to her, he knew exactly how close she was. At this point, Inga was actively trying to stop herself from advancing. It felt like always being on the verge of sneezing for days on end.

Logan pushed through his mushrooms while avoiding the bugs.

Marko, Steve, and Treacle lingered nearby Inga’s guardian form. They all looked as concerned as Logan felt. Well, maybe not Steve. He was cool as a cucumber, that guy. Inga’s guardian form looked as unstable as her gem. She was quivering and hunched over, clearly in pain. Hopefully, her guardian form wouldn’t have to take direct action—not with how unstable she was. She was backup. If Chadrigoth somehow bypassed their defense and made it into the inner sanctum, she’d morph into her heavy metal caterpillar using her Metamorphosis ability. She’d stop him from grabbing a gem and running back to the Bloodrock.

Inga’s sent him a message. <I feel awful. I can’t wait until this is over.>

<It’s going to be alright, Inga,> Logan sent back. <Just a few more hours, then we can get you to your room, and you can take care of business.>

The mothmancer’s sigh came to him loud and clear. <I just hope I’m still sane by then. This is very vexing. I am, however, very relieved we’ll be starting soon. I do hope that Chadrigoth will have to createthe Null Arena.>

They had about fifteen minutes. Then the Threshing Turtle would let them know who would be responsible for establishing the Null Arena—it would all come down to a coin toss.

Logan reached the dais. His guardian form spoke, though his consciousness lingered in his gem. “Hey, guys, I just had a thought. Okay, so we know that the Threshing Turtle is actually the Onyx Tortoise. I guess we should’ve guessed that before. I mean, I like Professor Ikgix as much as the next guy, but he is a million years old. I’ve been watching him, and I think he’s forgotten he’s one of the four Celestial Ancestors.”

Treacle sighed. “Ageism rears its ugly.”

Marko laughed and clattered over on his hooves. He took Logan by the arm. “Let me escort you to your pedestal, my friend. You’re right about Professor Ikgix not remembering. I asked him about Billy Scales, and he said didn’t recall the name. Unless he was lying, and you know, he’s in league with Billy Scales.”

“William of the Scales,” Inga corrected. “Maybe he didn’t know who you were talking about because you used the wrong name.”

Steve stood next to the pedestal, motionless. With the all the bugs and mushrooms, the plaster mannequin looked very out of place.

“Will Yum, Yum, Yum,” Treacle intoned. He was decked out in battle armor, his goggles in place, and his horn lights flashing. A plate of glass, reinforced with steel, covered the gem on his furry belly. “Maybe all this time, that strange chant was summoning William of the Scales, who was in league with the Onyx Tortoise the entire time.”

Marko rolled his eyes. “And now the evil Professor Ikgix will high-tail it over to the Bloodrock, crack Chadrigoth’s gem, and unleash the angry ghost of the worst dungeoneer in history.”

A creeping tendril of cold fear made Logan tremble, not literally, since he was a gemstone right them. But in a metaphorical sense. The Threshing Turtle did have access to every single dungeon on Arborea. He could easily murder dungeon cores and lay the blame at Melvin’s white-sneakered feet.

Marko groaned. “Ancient seals, diabolical murder, unrelenting evil, gods above but it’s all so boring. And do you know what my real question is?”

Inga winced. “I’m not entirely sure I want to know.”

Like that would stop the satyr. “What’s the difference between a turtle and a tortoise?” Marko spun. “Hey, Steve, do you know?”

Steve didn’t move.

Logan saw the worry on Marko’s face. “Hey, Steve, are you still with us?”

Marko clattered over on his hooves and snapped his fingers a couple of times. Treacle spun.

Steve wasn’t squeaking at all. Not in the slightest.

Then Logan noticed that shadows under him were wrong, all wrong. Given the nature of the light, which included several torches set into the cold, black rock as well as some bioluminescent mushrooms shedding their eerie light from the various ledges.

Then Logan saw the runes, Bharooshian runes, drawn on the floor. Both the shadows and runes suddenly swirled together, creating a whirlpool of midnight around the mannequin. The shadows coalesced into an obsidian gemstone, or part of one, set into the white plaster of Steve’s stomach. Was it obsidian? Or onyx? Either way, Steve the mannequin suddenly had the beginnings of a shadowy gemstone.

Veins of ink crept up from the gem, marking Steve’s body and greasing his joints. The ink reached his face, creating a jagged mouth and two indistinct oval eyes. Those unsettling eyes blinked open, revealing an ocean of darkness simmering just below the surface.

Steve opened his mouth and raised his arms. Yep. Not a single squeak

“By all the dark gods of the ancient demon lords, Laskarelis,” the mannequin said, “it’s amazing you have the intellect to remember to keep breathing. A tortoise is a turtle that lives on land and isn’t equipped for water. All tortoises are turtles, but not all turtles are tortoises.”

Marko let out a grunt of displeasure. “Dammit, Steve, I hate it when people do that. It’s like why I hate Venn diagrams. Everything is this, but it isn’t that. Stop with riddles already, buddy.”

The satyr paused with a dumb look on his goat face. “Why do we call the intersecting circles Venn diagrams?”

Logan had to point out the obvious. “We have bigger questions, Marko. Like why in the hell is Steve talking? Oh, and why does he have a core? Get your head in the game!”

Inga was already transforming into her heavy metal caterpillar as Treacle dashed for the pedestal with his big Terra Hammer springing out of his arm. Logan triggered Pneumacity, filling himself with air and drastically increasing his speed.

But they were far too late.

Steve met the incoming minotaur with hands dripping shadows. The mannequin slammed a fist through Treacle’s armor over his core and ripped out his gem. The resulting explosion lit up every single one of the dark runes, which the mannequin must’ve drawn while they’d been in that very room.

Treacle shivered, dropping pieces of armor and gadgets. Screwdrivers and hammers and socket wrenches hit the floor in a cacophony of clangs. It was like a Home Depot after being hit by lightning typhoon. Treacle’s little minions also fell from secret compartments, clattering on the stony ground. The tiny automatons tried to spin to life, but one by one, they dropped dead to on the stone. In a matter of seconds, Treacle had been reduced to spare parts.

The Minotaur toppled to his knees and keeled over onto his side.

Steve held Treacles core in one hand, then casually tossed it onto the pedestal with a flick of his wrist. Logan should’ve felt that, but instead, all he could sense were those terrible shadows, which surrounded the plaster mannequin.

Steve let out a happy laugh. “Finally, that Treacle guy and his overwhelming negativity are over. How could you stand being around Señor Depressed Horns? People wonder why you drink, Laskarelis, and there’s no real mystery there. You had the most miserable minotaur in existence as one of your best friends.”

Logan, Marko, and Inga were still converging on the plaster man standing at the very top of the dais.

One of Steve’s shadow tentacles shot out like a cobra and grabbed hold of Inga’s pulsating gem. Another tendril was already wrapping around Treacle’s core. Both started to turn black. Logan’s gem, though, was untouched—at least for the moment. Still, he could feel a presence that defied explanation. Whatever Steve was, he felt huge and powerful and unknowable.

Steve waved a plaster finger at them. “You three are going to stop right now, otherwise I start cracking gems. I’ve gotten pretty good at that, you know, cracking cores to unlock the seals. I was going to wait for you morons to get me to the Bloodrock, but come on, do you really think you can take on Chadrigoth? It’s laughable. Really. I’m laughing.”

“Wow, Steve, you’re not really being very supportive.” Marko huffed.

The satyr wasn’t getting it. He took a few more steps toward his minion.

“Stop!” Steven thundered. “Do not test me or I will play nutcracker with your friend Inga’s gem. Cue the Tchaikovsky. That’s a culturally specific reference for the Earth guy. I know all about Uroth. You overgrown monkeys have done a great job in basically ruining the place in the last ten thousand years. Talk about self-destructive.”

Logan stopped dead in his tracks.

Marko had stopped too, then pulled free his Luden Lute, quickly growing the instrument to full size. He looked crestfallen.

Inga had returned to her mothmancer form. She held her chrysalis swords in trembling hands. “He has my core,” she said through gritted teeth. “Treacle’s too. His mind is so big… I can’t stand it. I have to advance. I can’t hold it back. Logan, you have to disconnect. He’s feeding off Treacle’s Apothos, and he’s siphoning mine!”

Steve threw back his head and did his best villain’s laugh. “The power from your cores is nothing compared to what I’m going to do when I break that last seal. I’m going to flood every channel with unspeakable power. But not before I deal with you, you troublesome fungus.”

Another tentacle emerged from the shadows around the mannequin and snaked up toward Logan’s gem. He’d sensed Steve’s presence before, but now, that presence truly enveloped him. Logan felt the vastness of space, an infinite abyss of cold, and a mind there. A terrible, evil mind gazing on him.

Inga tried to charge Steve with her guardian form, and she even got one of her swords close, but then more of the darkness struck her chest and held her there.

Steve whistled with his badly formed stygian lips. “Oh, she is feisty, isn’t she? She has promise! And I’m fairly certain she would’ve figured out my true identity eventually. Certainly the most competent of the lot. That’s why I had to walk around with poor Melvin’s pastries, laying clues, and then of course, the whole yum, yum, yum, thing. Poor Melvin. Can you say innocent bystander?”

Logan didn’t know what to do. The darkness from Steve’s gem was poisoning his connection to Inga, and it was threatening to poison his own gem core. That vast energy was almost like his own mushroom spores, but not quite. A twisted shadow of his power. Whatever it was, it was threatening to take him over. Treacle’s gem had already turned black.

Marko’s furry hands hovered over his lute strings, but he wasn’t playing. Not yet. “Steve, buddy, how can you turn on me like this? We were ride or die. And I liked Treacle. Like, I was a good influence on someone for the first time ever. How can you do this to me?”

“We were never friends. At best you were a useful tool, which is the name of a Tool cover band in Milwaukee. Useful Tool rocked it hard.”

Steve yanked Inga down to the floor. More shadowy tendrils erupted from his core, grabbing Logan. He found himself fighting those tentacles as they started to drag him toward the mannequin.

Inga let out a shriek as she collapsed to the floor. Her gem wasn’t entirely black like Treacle’s, but it was pulsating even more now. Logan tried to reach out to send her a message, but there was so much static from her advancement. And then there were Steve’s shadow, poisoning everything it touched.

With a frantic thought, Logan tried to summon his armor and weapons, but he couldn’t, not while he was fighting with those dark tendrils of power. Logan attempted to call his minions up from the ledges. That didn’t work either. Steve was blocking Logan’s control over the dungeon right at the source of its power—his and Inga’s gems. Logan had to get out of there, but he couldn’t leave his friends. “Marko, we’re in trouble!”

“Ever the one for the obvious statements, aren’t you!” Steve yelled. “Gotta love mushrooms! They’re spore powerful than all the other guardian forms combined!”

Marko was free for now, but he seemed too shocked to do much. “Puns!? Say it ain’t so, Steve! Say it ain’t so! To say we weren’t friends is one thing. To call me a tool—even that I can take. But puns? You were my minion, Steve! I loved you!”

Steve grimaced. “’You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.’ Please, I won’t do puns, if you don’t do the bad Star Wars prequel dialogue.”

Marko plucked a pick out of a pocket in his jaunty vest. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, Steve, but I command you to cease and desist all epic fantasy hijinks right now! We will not be summoning the ancient evil! Not today. Not ever!”

The satyr strummed his lute, and the discordant jangle made Logan wince. Slithering purple tentacles with dozens of bright magenta eyeballs and far too many mouths, emerged from the shadows.

Steve curled his hand into a fist and the darkness overwhelmed Marko’s Eldritch Horrors, swallowing them up in a darkness deeper than the heart of the ocean. More tendrils ensnared the goat man—wrapping around his neck, legs, and arms. Marko managed to keep hold of his lute, though.

Steve let his disgust show. “I started out as your minion, Laskarelis, much to my shame, but I must admit that I wouldn’t be what I am today if not for you and your complete incompetence. You wanted to know what happened, hmm? Well I am what happens when you keep a floor boss around for too long and let it wander off while you’re blackout drunk on Liverkill. A floor boss without proper guidance is a vulnerable thing, Marko.

“When Professor Thozz Grimemaw performed his little ceremony, hoping to tap into the energy beneath Arborea, he instead broke up the first seal and allowed a wisp of my essence to escape. And thanks to your foolish oversight, that wisp of power was able to find a host and take root. Even with a corporeal form, I was still too weak to make my move or form a proper core, but no longer. I don’t need you or your bumbling do-gooder friends anymore. Now, we’re done talking. It’s time to let Sauron out to play. Ha, Tolkien references. You Urothlings sure do love that stuff. And for the record, stretching The Hobbit into three movies was awesome. God bless Peter Jackson.”

Steve really was a fiend. Stretching The Hobbit into three movies was an obvious and cynical cash grab.

Logan struggled with the inky tentacles. The tendrils were impervious to his spores, and they were so strong. Slowly, Steve was dragging him across the floor, closer and closer to the pedestal. His gemstone was also being taken over by this impossibly powerful presence.

The Threshing Turtle had to be seeing this. The cavalry had to be arriving soon. Logan just had to buy them some time.

“What about Chadrigoth?” he asked, hoping to stall for a little extra time. “Was he involved in this?”

Steve boomed more villainous laughter. “That demon of douchebags? That devil bully? Hello, Chad, John Hughes is looking for a class-A a-hole for his next teen movie. Chadrigoth is just a damaged mama’s boy, but he kept you all distracted. Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Oedipal is doing something, but I don’t know what it is. Nor do I care. Not my circus. Not my clown.” The mannequin then snatched the gem from Marko’s stomach and tossed it next to Inga’s core already floating above the pedestal. Marko toppled face first onto the floor. The lute gave out a last twang and went sliding across the ground and into a collection of mushrooms.

Steve had some kind of Symbiotic power, that was apparent, because suddenly Marko’s gem went dark. Somehow, Steve was accessing the satyr’s Apothos. Logan again felt the overwhelming power of the darkness leaking out of Steve’s gem, only it wasn’t a complete core. It more like a proto-gem, the beginning of a power that could consume all of Arborea if left unchecked. The game wasn’t over just yet, though.

Logan had no choice. He had to end his connection to Inga, get his gem away from that darkness, and find a way out. With a thought, he severed his tie to Inga.

Are you sure you want to end your Symbiotic Bond with Inga Thosa Therian?

Y/N?

Logan chose yes, feeling a small pang of guilt as he did so. He wasn’t abandoning them, not forever. Leaving them was the only way to save them.

Logan triggered Pneumacity, used the inrush of air to inflate his body, then quickly pushed out all the air in one giant rush. His body seemed to suck in on itself at the sudden lack of oxygen and he had just enough space to wriggle free from the shadowy fingers. He sucked in another lungful of air, then went speeding across the floor. He leapt over the pedestal, seized his gem, and shoved it into his stomach.

Steve’s face split into a snarl and more shadowy hands jolted toward him. But the fungaloid was far too fast. Logan back peddled, narrowly avoiding the grasping tendrils, then turned on one heel and sprinted toward the entrance to the Inner Sanctum. A shadowy limb shot toward his legs, but Logan leapt into the air, and floated down to a ledge about halfway to the exit. He landed in a crouch, then quickly plucked a Gem-studded Puffball. He turned and hurled it up to the top of the dais. The explosive mushroom went off right in Steve’s face.

The explosion rocked him, and several cracks appeared in Steve’s plaster, but the mannequin was far from dead. “Too late! This dungeon belongs to me and I have the power of your friends. You and I both know they’ve made you what you are today. With their Apothos and abilities at my beck and call I’m going to build some weird-ass minions, then go crack Chadrigoth’s gem in the Bloodrock. And now for the Null Arena. I haven’t done this in a while. But it’s like riding a bike. Another little Urothling saying for you, mushroom man.”

Steve had taken over all three of the gems floating over the pedestal, though Inga’s gem still shone with a few glimmers light, and that light pulsated like a heartbeat.

“I’ve got bad news, Stevie…” Logan called while simultaneously summoning his ruby shield and his silver sword. “The Onyx Tortoise is the one proctoring this exam—it’s only a matter of time before he shows up. And if you are who I think you are, then he’s going to beat your ass this time, just like he did the last time.”

Without answering, Steve pulled the half-formed gem from his belly and tossed it onto the pedestal with the others. In a heartbeat, Steve went from diabolical villain to plaster mannequin with squeaking joints.

“Ah, that feels so much better,” Steve’s voice boomed in the air. “It feels good to be in control of a proper dungeon again. As for your stalling tactics, Logan, it won’t work. Even without my full power, that old Threshing Turtle isn’t a match for me. I’ve been watching him closely this past year. He was the reason I played things so slowly—I couldn’t afford to have him swoop in a stop me. But it’s clear that he isn’t even a shadow of his former self. And I wouldn’t count on him coming to your rescue if I were you. I’ve already formed the Null area; he believes the test has begun in earnest and won’t interfere. I’ve made certain of that.”

A knot formed in Logan’s digestion pit. If Steve was telling the truth, and he really had already created the Null Area and was manipulating Professor Ikgix somehow, then they were on their own until the final was over. Moreover, he was cut off from the rest of Arborea. The only place he could run now was into the Bloodrock Dungeon, where Chadrigoth would be waiting to crush him. There was no escape.

As Steve fully took control of the dungeon, with the assistance of Inga, Marko, and Treacle, Eldritch Horrors rose from the mushroom fields, overtaking them, and combining tentacles with insects—Lovecraftian freakshows covered with thick, crunchy exoskeletons. Sprinkle in some steampunk automatons and you had a nightmare of industrial revolution proportions.

Logan had no choice but to run. He activated Pneumacity and took off, racing through the corridors and carefully constructed rooms. Already the Winterdark dungeon was being perverted by Steve’s power. Logan’s mushroom warriors screamed and thrashed as they were altered. His mushrooms withered as Marko’s abominations took their place; elsewhere Treacle-like mutations came stomping out in hot pursuit, sparks flying off their metal bodies.

Logan raced over the bridges spanning pits as mannequins formed in shadowy alcoves and walls became murals. In a last desperate leap, using the last of his Apothos, Logan jumped over the final abyss as more hungry shadows erupted behind.

Logan left the Winterdark Halls and rolled to a stop in the Null Arena Steve had created.

His little fungal heart froze in his chest. The place was insane.

Much as he hated to admit it, Logan knew there was only one person who could save them—Prince Chadrigoth of the Diabolus Diaboli, of the Eritreus Elite.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and the times couldn’t be more desperate than this.

The lives of Logan’s friends were literally in Chadrigoth’s claws.