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James A. Hunter
James A. Hunter

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Shadowcroft Academy Year 2 - 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.

Once the morning session was done, Logan said goodbye to his friends and hustled off across the Arketa 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 hot-footed 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, through 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 rather 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 snow-capped 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 mimicked 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’d all be okay. Still, for the living, death sucked. And, 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 suspicion. 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 walked down the sandstone 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 Chuddles 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 Chud is a very gifted chef.”

The minute Chud saw Logan, he immediately closed up his cart, apologized profusely to the line of waiting students, and pushed the wheeled buggy across the sandstones over to Logan. Those big white oversized sneakers slapped down on the sandy surface.

“Greetings and salutations, Logan Murry!” the kitchen ghast called. He then 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 triangles are my most successful pastry to date, I do have a delectable cream puff popover that you might enjoy.”

Logan held up a hand. “I’m good. I had one yesterday. They’re delicious.”

“I know!” Chud 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.”

Chud had been at the Blasted Barrows? Inside the sanctum? Interesting.

Chud then swept off his fedora and made a big show of saying, “Milady.”

Tet smiled, showing pointed white teeth. “Milord.”

Chud was delighted with her response. “I must say, it is an honor for me to meet a real Coptic Champion. Your people truly have the best interests of the universe at heart. I am honored, milady. Nay, I am struck speechless.” He dropped to his thin knees, his big belly swaying. “I bow before your wonderfulness. Truly, I am not worthy.”

And just like that, Chud had pushed things too far.

Tet rolled her eyes. “Arise, Chud. It’s fine.”

Chud got to his feet. “So, are you and Logan dating?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows at the pair of them. “I ship it. I totally ship it. You both are really good-looking.”

“Whoa, Chud. Bud, we need to work on your social skills because none of what you just said is in any way appropriate.”

“I have much to learn,” the kitchen ghast said enthusiastically. “And enough said—you don’t need to answer my question. Mums the word. Though, I have to say, I’m firmly Team Ingay. Tet’s great and all, but Inga is one hot piece of moth and she knows her way around a Zamzir fisking spoon. Hard to find someone who even knows what that is, let alone how to use one.”

Tet couldn’t help but blush, laugh, and blush some more. “Right.”

Logan had no idea where to go from there, and thankfully he didn’t need to.

Professor John Toothbyte saved him any more embarrassment by stomping over in hulking black boots. Toothbyte was a fearsome looking shark man, and one of the only Professors on staff who specialized in water dungeons. A spiked anchor weapon hung from the hook where his right hand should’ve been. He wore leather pants which were cut to allow for his huge shark tail. A tight open-collared cotton shirt struggled to contain his ridiculously cut muscles.

“Good mornin’, lads and lassies,” he boomed, speaking in a rough Scottish brogue. “It’s a bonny day, is it not? Chuddles R. Chevalier, do ye have a bit of sweet for an old shark?” He flashed the Kitchen Ghast his formidable fangs. “Might be, Ah have a bite of a sweet tooth.”

“I do, Professor Toothbyte,” the kitchen ghast said, bobbing his head.

Toothbyte ate his pastry in a gulp. “Now get, ye saucy lad. Back to the kitchens. Class, iffin ye don’t know Chud hear, he’s a wonder. From Nightfall University, he comes, to grace our school.”

Chud preened at the compliment, clearly relishing the kind words.

“An excellent university, though Shadowcroft Academy has already taught me a great many things. But please, don’t let me keep you all. Have fun learning. We’ll talk more, Logan,” he said with a very obvious wink. “We sure are busy, but it won’t be long until we’re best friends.”

Chud pushed his cart away down the sandstone path.

Toothbyte licked the fingers of his good hand with a black tongue. Then he squinted at Logan. “Ready to learn dungeons, Murray?”

“Aye, sir,” Logan said automatically.

Toothbyte chuckled. “Good. Good. I have me eye on you and Tet. Ye both are dungeons on the sink, as they used to say.”

Dungeons on the sink, instead of the rise. Right. Logan shook his head at the weird world he’d found himself.

The shark man climbed halfway up a palm, wedging his shark tail under him.

“Now, lads and lassies, we’re here to talk dungeons. Dungeons of all kinds. As ye kin, the worlds are connected to the Tree of Souls in what be nodes—sometimes called Celestial nodes of power—each with its own kind of energy, or a mixture of energies. Ye take the Chaos Oasis, where you have a good mixture of Ignis, Terra, Umbra, and yes, Luminosus. Sand and water, rock and root, I always like to stay start this course at the good ol’ Chaos Oasis because of the variety.”

The students gathered around the shark, taking cover in the shade of the palm trees, and for a second, Logan had to check his sanity. Yes. Weird world indeed.

They never did get to go down into the Chaos Oasis, though. Instead, Toothbyte spent ninety minutes going over the various types of dungeon environments and explanations about why each was important. The professor also went through each of the thirteen dungeons on Arborea, and Logan took notes, though many he’d already explored:

Blasted Barrows– A crypt-like dungeon in the low hills to the west of Vralkag

Bloodrock– A mountain dungeon in the Heckish Hills of the World Forge Wastes

Bone Vaults– An undead paradise north of Vralkag

Chaos Oasis– Where I am right now, in the World Forge Wastes. There’s palm trees but it’s not pretty.

Cruelwood – A nasty dungeon in the forests near Vralkag

Mines of Madness— A dungeon on the western slope of the Grimjour Peaks

Root Kill– The northernmost forest dungeon in the Xiru Forest

SandScream– A sandy hell in the eastern part of the World Forge Wastes

Skullsplatter Morass– The eastern dungeon in the Bogbottom Swamp

Submerged Hell– The underwater dungeon in the middle of Loch Endless

Twisted Vine– The western dungeon in the Bogbottom Swamp

Under Stump– The southernmost forest dungeon in the Xiru Forest

Winterdark Halls– A dungeon in the central peaks of Grimjour Peaks

According the Toothbyte, each of the dungeons vibrated with its own Apothine energy.

“Now, I know what yer thinking, lads and lasses—why should I care about different terrain? Well, the answer is, you never know what kind of dungeon yer gonna end up in. I’m a water-based Guardian myself, but water dungeons are quite rare in the grand scheme of things. So I’ve found myself improvising and adapting to less than ideal circumstances more time than I can wage my tail at. That’s how I became something of an accidental expert on the various dungeon environments. But it’s not just water dungeons like me self that need to worry.”

He nodded at Logan.

“Mr. Murry, you can attest to why the nodes are important. Ye and yer mates had to make do with the SandScream for yer finals last year. Ye did fine, but only because you made the location play to yer strengths. It coulda gone mighty different. It’s important to note that ye might get saddled with a dungeon you’re not especially well suited for, and have to fight through it, like young Master Murry did. Or, ye may find that the obvious choice in dungeons might actually have some drawbacks. Plus, understanding the terrain will become critically important when you learn about Null Arenas.”

“What’s a Null Arena?” Logan wondered aloud.

Tet nudged him with an elbow. “It’s a concept important in dungeon duels.”

Toothbyte laughed over the top of their whispers. “Aye, Tet-Akhat, you’re not wrong. But I won’t be blathering on about that. Professor Zantho will put you through your paces all right. She’ll be bloody relentless in her Offensive Dungeon Design class.”

“Guess we’ll be learning it together,” Tet said. “We go directly there after this class.”

Logan was glad. He liked Tet. Was he team Tet or Team Inga? He didn’t know, and he didn’t really want to think about any kind of romance with anyone. Right now, the only thing he was concerned with was learning more about dungeon duels.

But he’d get his chance at that.

As soon as Toothbyte dismissed them, he and Tet headed from the Chaos Oasis, back to the DIE Pavilion, and then on to the Mines of Madness, where Offensive Dungeon Designwould be held. The huge entrance was an archway of beaten iron, riveted into the stone, and crusted with ice. Rusted iron tracks, big enough to move a freight train carrying a kaiju, had been hammered into the earthen floor. A light layer of snow dusted the ground. The wind was chilly, especially after the heat of the World Forge Wastes, but Logan much preferred the cold to the heat.

Tet fluffed up her fur to keep herself warm.

A second later, cold hands settled on Logan. Both he and Tet were pulled back into the soft belly of a certain kitchen ghast.

“Finally!” Chud said loudly in Logan’s ear. “Me and my comrade in arms, Logan A. Murphy, have a class together! Huzzah! And what does the A stand for? Amazing! Awesome! Astounding! You pick! I’m super excited about Professor Zantho’s class!”

Logan wasn’t sure which was worse. Having another class with Chadrigoth or any class with Chud.

It was going to be a long morning, and lunch seemed an eternity away.


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