Shadowcroft Academy Year 2 - Chapter Sixteen

Logan stood at one the windows in the Golden Serpent Hall that faced the Akros Coliseum. He was wondering if Rainsap was going to have their class outside. He hoped so. That chill rain would make cultivating difficult, and Logan wanted a challenge for once.

Like that would ever happen.

It had been ten weeks since the death of Ed the Rot Troll. Ten weeks of Rainsap telling them they had to get in touch with their feelings. He was the worst.

All that autumn, Logan had been working his butt off in the morning, hitting classes, suffering through Moonbow Rainsap, and studying late into the night with his cohort in the Library or adding extra sparring sessions. Falling into bed at the bottom of the Ladder Hole felt satisfying. What wasn’t satisfying? A month past, then two, and Logan still wasn’t evolving. He was stuck at C-Class Rank 3, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t break through.

He’d even scored more Psuche Powder, in hopes that they’d simply had a bad batch. No luck. That powder didn’t do a thing. Sure, it felt like he’d chugged a gallon of coffee then chased it with a six pack of Red Bull, but it didn’t increase his rank, and the energy quickly faded. Everything was beginning to feel like a lesson in futility and he couldn’t help but place the blame at Moonbow Rainsap scaley feet. Or tail, rather.

What else could it be? Logan was doing everything right.

Logan liked all of his classes except for two. One was Rainsap’s waste of time. The other was Professor Nekhbet’s history class. It almost seemed as if the feathered professor was purposely attempting to make the history of Arborea and the Four Clans as boring as possible. He’d gone on for days droning about world theory, which should’ve been interesting, but somehow Nekhbet could make even the idea of a multiverse stale as month-old bread.

As a mushroom, Logan actually enjoyed month-old bread, but the sentiment remained.

As it was, the biggest takeaway was that the Ashvattha Universe was its own realm, a series of galaxies, all interconnected through the branches and roots of Ashvattha, the Tree of Souls. After doing a little research on his own, Logan learned that Ashvattha was a term that cropped up on his own homeworld—a Hindu term for the Tree of Life. That confirmed that Earth hadn’t always been so disconnected from the rest of the multiverse. It seemed as though Earth had flourished at one point, far in the past, and that many of the great stories and legends of his own homeworld came from a time when Earth was more well-connected to the Tree of Souls.

He wasn’t sure if that mattered or not in the grand scheme of things, but it was nice to know that maybe, someday, he’d be able to fix things back home. It also explained how Shadowcroft knew about King Arthur and why Lady Elesiel was able to reference Lord of the Rings. Logan had happened upon a book called A Million Silmarillions, which alleged that a historian, linguist, and noted author of great renown, by the name of Jarald Rathal Ravathana Toilking, had mysteriously vanished after departing on a sea-faring voyage bound for the West.

Logan wished that Nekhbet had even an ounce of the story telling flair of any version of Toilking.

Instead, Nekhbet endlessly critiqued the various theories about how Arborea had formed. Some scholars claimed it had always been there, while others asserted it was created by the Golden Serpent—the very first dungeon, who used it to teach the Four Celestial Ancestors. Others thought that it was the Ancestors themselves who created it, while a small faction circulated the notion that Shadowcroft himself had fashioned the world. The headmaster insisted that he’d found it, though he did say it had been holy to the Ancestors. One thing was certain, however: the origin of Arborea was a scholarly hot-button issue that could trigger a heated debate at the mere mention.

When asked about the specific dungeons—to the north, south, east, and west—Nekhbet had shaken his head so much his waddle had swayed for several minutes. Nekhbet said that while the dungeons in the realm all had varying degrees of energy—some clearly more powerful than others—that there was no real difference. They’d been studied for thousands of years, and he suggested several books. All of them went over each dungeon in excruciating detail. One was The Stone Hermeneutic: Apothos Theory and Geographical Ontology as related to The Thirteen Dungeons of Arborea. It was by someone named Alanff Scottniff and it was so dry that Inga legitimately used it to fall asleep. One paragraph would put even her out, and she loved dry books as much as she loved the lethal boredom of Nekhbet’s classes.

Nekhbet’s cutlery class, though, was definitely pushing her beyond her limits. She wasn’t healing very well from the beating she’d taken from Elesiel’s dagger ghost. Logan thought it might be from the stress of trying to remember that the Eritrean strawberry sweet cream spoons were different form summer strawberry spoons. Both seemed similar but the strawberry spoon had a flanged end while the sweet cream spoon had a deeper bowl.

Inga had taken the class to use cutlery as a lure to dungeoneers. However, it was clear that Nekhbet was more interested in the details than in the application of the knowledge. According to Inga, while she was having a hard time, Melvin R. Chevalier was breezing through the course load. That made it even more maddening for the mothmancer, who had always excelled in all things academic.

Logan and Inga had taken their rune discovery to Professor Arketa, who said she would talk with both Rockheart and Shadowcroft about it. However, weeks later, they hadn’t heard anything. Rockheart was still meeting with them in the morning, and when Logan followed up with him about their suspicions, Rockheart had shrugged. “People die. Dungeons die. Dungeons are not safe places. What exactly is it you would like from me?”

For Rockheart, there was no mystery. Only cold, hard, pragmatic reality.

However, Shadowcroft kept both the Cruelwood and the Blasted Barrows closed. They were being investigated, but it wasn’t anyone’s priority. They were all in the swing of the schoolyear, and with each passing day, when another dungeon wasn’t killed, the investigation simply lost its importance.

Death was a part of life at the Shadowcroft Academy. That had been clear to Logan on day one.

As for his other classes, Logan enjoyed Toothbyte’s A Kaleidoscope of Killzones. They toured all of the dungeons on Arborea, and that gave Logan a chance to investigate their inner sanctums. None of them had the sigils on the floor.

But, all of them were interesting and highly customizable.

Logan also loved Offensive Dungeon Designs, and Zantho had finally whipped Marko into shape. The goat man didn’t say a single word in her class, but they minute they left her, the satyr would erupt into chatter. All of the jokes came tumbling out. They were still pitting their minions against each other, and so the idea of dueling dungeons was left a mystery. Logan kept meaning to check a book out of the library, but then the next assignment would pop up. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just Google the idea and read the first two sentences on the Wikipedia page.

Professor Ronnalg Crucible’s crafting class was both fun and challenging. Intermediate Crafting: Keep It Simple, Stupid had them creating Exogenous Apothos weapons for their floor bosses. Creating weapons, armor, and loot that could be removed from the dungeon was a tedious and difficult process. It was also far more complicated than Endogenous Apothos Manifestation, which was the process they used to manipulate dungeon spaces—creating rooms, spawning monsters, and engineering traps that would never leave the dungeon core’s sphere of influence.

Logan was okay, though Treacle shined like a star. Clearly, Exogenous crafting was his calling. Coming up with a weapon for Noddle Doddle was almost as tricky as the crafting process itself. Logan’s Blistering Death Warg already had spikes galore and couldn’t really wield weapons, so he finally decided to add a saddle. He also wanted to upgrade the weapons of his skullcap waddlers, so they wouldn’t just have cudgels but some edged weapons as well. Or even some crossbows. But one thing at a time.

Crucible sighed at the saddle idea. He was far more encouraging about crossbows. But for Crucible, that amounted to him grunting. “It’s a fine idea, son. Just keep it simple, stupid.” Hence the name of the class.

Inga hated being called stupid. She asked the professor to refer her to as sweetie, as in keep it simple sweetie. That had made the big mustached ogre sigh.

In the Golden Serpent Hall, Logan touched the cold glass of the window. Students were gathering in the Akros Coliseum for Rainsap’s class.

Logan had to improve his ranking. Inga said he’d made such amazing progress the year before, that he didn’t need to push himself so hard this year. Logan disagreed. With every day, the Earth grew weaker. And it was obvious from his fight with Lady Elesiel, he wasn’t as strong as he needed to be. They’d barely won.

He just didn’t know what more he could do.

With a sigh, Logan walked out into the rain and across the iceblade grass to where Professor Rainsap stood, handing out umbrellas. Of course, he would be handing out umbrellas.  He was sitting on his coiled snake tail near a little canopy that protected a happy fire burning cheerily in a ring of stones. Instead of an umbrella, the professor had a wide-brimmed hat that protected his face and shoulders. Being half-snake, he didn’t seem to mind the rain.

The naga smiled. “I wanted you all to be comfortable as possible despite the inclement weather.”

Marko had chosen the most colorful umbrella. He stood next to Steve and Inga, who both carried umbrellas of their own.

Treacle, though, just stood in the rain, his hair hanging in tangled strings. The drenched hair on his face would’ve covered his eyes except he’d popped out his goggles, which were slightly fogged. The minotaur chewed placidly, apparently unconcerned by the water.

Logan went over to the minotaur. “Hey, Treac, do you need help figuring out your umbrella?”

The minotaur gave him a withering look. “You’re trying to be funny. I’m the engineer in the cohort, and you think I need your help operating such a simple device. In truth, I gave Steve my umbrella. His joints are already so rusty. If his squeaks got any louder, it would give me an even worse headache. Yes. My head aches. All the time. Do you think it could be a brain tumor? Do dungeons get brain tumors? I feel the end closing in on me, Logan. I bet Steve will like that.”

It was clear that Treacle didn’t like Steve, but Logan wasn’t sure why. He’d gotten used to the mannequin, as had Inga. Honestly, everyone had seemed to come to love the creepy guy, even the professors.

Another creeper that had gained widespread accepted over the past few weeks was Melvin R. Chevalier, who seemed to be everywhere—either taking classes or helping Chef Treegee in the kitchen. People said the food had improved, but Logan wouldn’t know. A little green pork and some sulphurously rotten eggs, and he was set for the day. He’d added sour wine and some moldy beer to his diet as well. With Marko around, that wasn’t too hard to find. But Logan kept the booze only for special occasions.

With Melvin spending so much time in the kitchen, he had less time to bug Logan and the Terrible Twelfth, which was a relief since Logan was still unsure of the kitchen ghast. He seemed friendly enough in his own socially awkward way, but he still seemed far too interested in Logan and his friends. Until Logan figured out why, he planned on keeping the ghast at arm’s length.

Logan was intent of staying out in the rain, but Professor Rainsap waved him over with an energetic smile. The naga instructor offered Logan an black umbrella, but the mushroom man politely declined—he much preferred the damp cold.

“Suit yourself” Professor Rainsap said with a shrug. But then he paused, rubbing his chin as he stared at Logan. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you my little mushroom friend. Well, I’ve been thinking about your core, to be more precise. I think, perhaps, I know what might be going on.”

Logan held up a hand. “It’s fine. We can talk about this after class. I really want to get cultivating.”

The truth was, Logan seriously doubted Professor Rainsap had any idea of what was going on with Logan’s core. But more than that, it was more than a little embarrassing for the professor to bring up Logan’s core in front of the other cohorts in the class. Logan didn’t mind his friends in the Terrible Twelfth knowing about his issues, but it was possible that one of the others could leak sensitive information to someone who would use it against Logan.

Like, say, Chadrigoth.

That wasn’t going to stop Moonbow Rainsap, though.

“You used that Red Lotus Juice last year, I hear. It’s powerful stuff, and I’ve been thinking about the knot you tied. Well, I think you pushed your core too far too fast—that’s why you’re having problems advancing. You’re strong, there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind about that, but sometimes raw strength is not enough, my friend.

“You must remember, my friend, cultivation is about patience, timing, and fate. Hard work and discipline will only take you so far, but eventually, as you’re seeing, it becomes the will of the universe itself. Either it’s going to happen, or it’s not. Like being a famous poet. You may well pen a thousand sonnets, but that don’t mean you’ll be wind up as famous as Croweena Pantherfeathers. Don’t be a bird brain. Her poems are purr-fect.”

Marko winced. “Oh, right, the originally title for this class was Pain Endurance and Soul Torture Techniques. Hence, the puns. I get it now. And I am tortured.”

Steve’s squeak sounded more like a sigh than a chuckle. It was clear the mannequin didn’t like the rain.

Logan tried to cut through the fluff. “Fine, Professor, so what can I do to change?”

Rainbow shook his head. “No, my friend, it’s not about changing. Changing is active and you’ve been as active as its possible to be. It’s about letting go. Letting go is essentially a passive act. You’re not cultivating the energy, the energy is cultivating you. You’re just like a leaf on a stream.”

“No!” Marko erupted. “Nekhbet is killing us on leaves. Last year we studied leaves. And this year we’re back on leaves. Can you use a different analogy professor?”

Inga looked both angry and embarrassed by their friend’s outburst. She had her wings tucked in tight so they wouldn’t get wet.

“Sure, my little goat friend,” Rainsap replied. “It’s like you’re a boat, and you think that you’re the one rowing the boat, and if you just row hard enough, you’ll get across the storm-kissed lake. But in truth, you’re the boat and the Apothos is the wind. All you have to do is put your sails up and ride that wind. Only, the wind is your breath, and your core is the hull, and your knot is the sail. Keep in mind, my mushroom friend, there is no way to steer the ship. It’s all just Ashvattha, my friends. It’s all… just… Ashvattha.”

Logan thought of Sergeant Major Dave Baker, and Sarge would’ve told that hippy dippy snake man to shut the hell up. Logan was tempted.

Rainsap wasn’t done expounding on his profound musing that had no practical application at all.

“So, Logan my friend,” he continued, “we’re going to work on a new cycling form, Radiant Serpent Under the Glowing Moon Technique. We’re not only going to focus on repairing your core, because the truth is, I don’t believe there is anything wrong with your core. I could be wrong, but I believe your core is strong.” He paused, fixing his gaze on Logan. “More than strong, I even suspect it’s been growing. But it’s possible you’ve built a blockage because you can’t let go. As a result the connective meridians of your knot aren’t strong enough to handle the Apothos your attempting to force through.

“Instead of trying to strengthen your current know, I think we need to tie you a new one. This technique will help if you follow it closely. And having another knot will be like adding a sail to blow you gently through the storms of life and to a destination, a paradise, you can’t comprehend now. But you will. You will.” The snake man nodded for a second, and then he slithered around them on his tail, asking them to find a spot under their umbrellas. If they were chilly, they could cluster near the fire.

Logan didn’t. Logan—still drenched by the pounding rain—moved as far away as possible from the flames. For the one millionth time missed the torture of his summer with Rockheart?

This felt stupid.

And yet, when Rainsap glided over to show Logan how to use the Radiant Serpent Technique, Logan figured he’d give it a shot. Why not? After ten weeks, he wasn’t progressing. It’s not like Rainsap’s stupid technique would hurt his advancement any—after all, he wasn’t advancing as was. And Logan knew he had to advance. To progress. If nothing else, he had to get better because it was only a matter of time before Chadrigoth came for Logan. This time it would be about getting revenge on besting his girlfriend. Chadrigoth wasn’t about to let a slight like that go unpunished.

And if there was a murderer on Arborea, Logan wanted to stop them before another dungeon fell prey to foul play. So, against his best judgement, he began to cycle…