Shadowcroft Year 3 - Chapter Forty-Five

Logan and his friends were speechless. The only sound was the roar of fans as the tube men flopped and flailed about.

Suddenly, the MothalMania 39 dungeon seemed like the worst kind of mistake.

Marko then let out a hoot of absolute triumph. “We win! Automatically, we win! We are freakin’ champions! Who’s the best? We’re the best.” He lifted a furry hand for a high-five.

No one responded.

Then the satyr winced. “Sorry. That dragon lady is dead. Super sad. Admittedly, she was mean in a passive aggressive kind of way. So, on the one hand, super sad. On another? The pressure is off. We kill this Lou Shador character and his Glow Brigade and we’re in the veritable catbird seat. Why are they called the Glow Brigade? Do they all use face cream to bring out their inner vitality?”

Logan had his theories, but he couldn’t confirm them just yet. He wanted to actually see the Lou Shador and his team in action before he weighed in. “But I don’t understand, Professor. We never thought that Shador would hit Wintersylver. We thought they were working together. Wasn’t she the leak?”

“Perhaps she was,” Rockheart said with a shrug. “But if so, it didn’t save her in the end. We watched the whole thing. Shador and those women blew through her dungeon like it was… what did you call your ridiculous store-bought atrocity above us?”

“MothalMania 39,” Logan answered, chin raised.

The rector prime looked equally perplexed and annoyed. “Why 39? Did you have 38 other dungeons that were even worse?”

Logan wasn’t about to go into the history of WrestleMania. “Suffice to say, I think Lou Shador might have ties to Uroth. So it’s an Earth thing. But why didn’t the other dungeon cores come in to help Wintersylver? If you saw what was happening, couldn’t you have used the BYE portal to get to her?”

Rockheart looked momentarily disgusted with himself. “It would’ve invalidated the contest. And you all knew the risks when you agreed to attend the finals. The goat fool is right about one thing, if you survive Lou Shador, you will win the tournament. There are a lot of donor dollars, product endorsements, a whole variety of fame, riches, and fortune for us. This contest is big business, and no one wants to see it come to a halt, even if it is incredibly dangerous for everyone involved.”

Logan couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d wanted to wipe out Shador and then throw that in Wintersylver’s face. That wasn’t possible now. They were once again facing down an enemy with superior power. There was a good chance that Shador’s team had also ranked up. It was too late to redo their dungeon.

“He’s on his way, isn’t he?” Logan asked.

“He is,” the gargoyle griffin agreed solemnly.

“You’re going to stay and help us, right?” Loan knew the answer the minute the question popped out of his mouth.

Rockheart grimaced. “Why would I stay and die? Or let you poison me with your strange fungal infection? I’m not one of your cronies.” He sighed. “And even if I wanted to help, that would also invalidate the competition. Not only would we be disqualified, but such a violation would cost us in ad revenue and sponsorships in the future—not to mention all the fines that would be levied against the school.

“No, it just wouldn’t be prudent, especially not with all the finical issues the school is having—as Ms. Therian can attest. For better or worse, you are on your own. Your fate is in your hands, as is ours. I suspect you will likely perish which is unfortunate for you and me both. Honestly,I just wish I hadn’t spent so much time with you. All that training was a monumental waste of my effort. Perhaps I should’ve known. Needless to say, these turn of events are very discouraging. You’ve seen my office. You know I only like to back winners. This will be a blow to me and my record.”

“But we’re literally going to die,” Logan pointed out.

“Perhaps not,” Inga sputtered. But her antennae told a different story. They’d never been droopier.

Treacle wasn’t eating, not his wheat sticks, nor his cud. He stood there, blinking like a heifer in a rainstorm.

Marko laughed. “But now is the time for Skip to come to the rescue, right? You’d hang us out to dry, Yullis, but not our friend and absentee headmaster, Skip Shadowcroft. If we’re dead, we can’t do wonderful things.”

Rockheart shook his head. “The headmaster does care about you all, and he is gutted that he can’t help you. He sent me here to warn you, and even interfering that much is walking a fine line, which could force us to forfeit the victory.At first, I balked at the notion because I understand the donor dollars involve, but, in truth, I do have some small affection for you four. I have been cruel to you in the past, and I owed you this at the very least.”

“Like that time you tried to kill us?” Logan asked, getting angry. “Or the time you tried to have Chadrigoth kill us?”

The rector prime nodded. “Both times, actually. Then there was the various training sessions where I tore you limb from limb. The slate has been wiped clean now, however. We are even. As for the headmaster, there is the audit, you know, and it’s at a critical phase. If you do survive this, Ms. Therian, we’ll need you in the headmaster’s office the minute you return.”

“I do not believe I can do that, sir,” the mothmancer whispered. “Perhaps we should let Lou Shador kill us. Death might not be as bad as taxes.”

Rockheart pulled out an envelope. “The headmaster did send you a note. It’s been signed by all of the professors. Except for me. I didn’t have time to read it, but I’m sure I agree with its sentiments. It will be a rousing missive, I have no doubt.”

Marko’s brightened a bit. “Did Arketa sign it? I mean, I know we’ve had this will-they or won’t-they thing going on for a while now. It’s, uh, kind of awkward talking to you about it, actually.”

“Not at all,” Rockheart growled. “There was no drama there. She did sign it. Also, just a word of warning. No other student is allowed to come and help you. There were any number of volunteers.”

“GK and Nemoy?” Marko asked smiling.

That smile became a frown when the rector prime didn’t answer right away.

Rockheart cleared this throat. “No. But Tet-Akhat was especially adamant about coming to your rescue. We can’t have that. If you do somehow manage to survive, we need for it to be a clear victory that can’t be disputed. There were also these strange mushroom people that wanted to lend you aid. The whole of them looked like something you would scrape off the bottom of a shoe. We had to restrain them, especially the one known as Yeez Tee.”

Logan’s heart dropped into his fungal stomach. Poor Yeez. This would totally mess that guy up and just when he’d made so much progress.

Rockheart gave them a final salute. “I will take my leave. I wish you luck. While I am disappointed, I must say, that you four have been the most promising dungeon guardians I’ve ever had the pleasure of dealing with. Make that three guardians. Not you, Marko. Never you.”

The gargoyle-griffin turned and walked past the dancing tube men and into the trapped stairwell. When the DIY centipede’s fell on him, he cursed, but kept right on walking.

Logan couldn’t suppress the bitter laughter that bubbled up. “Even at the end, Rockheart believes in survival of the fittest. Well, there is no way we’re winning this.” Logan went over and regarded the claw bowl. It seemed like the essence of dumb at this point. “You guys should go. There is no reason for all of us to die. I have my Mycotic Shambles now. I’ll front load the top level, and then I’ll be down there, ringside, to protect the pedestal. I’ll release the Symbiotic bond.”

No one said anything for a long time.

Finally, Marko broke the tense silence with a loud exhale. Instead of talking, he used their telepathy. <Rockheart is just upset that I was only a few months from stealing Arketa from him. One thing we gotta do before this Shador character shows up is reset the centipede trap. I spent a lot of time working on it. At least five minutes.>

“Didn’t you hear?” Logan asked. “It’s over. You all three need to go. Now. Before it’s too late. I can’t ask you all to die for me, especially when our chances of winning are so close to zero.”

Marko chuckled and offered him a sly grin. <You’ve got to lay off the demon fingers, bro. We’re not going anywhere.>

<Never.> Inga had a little smile on her face.

Treacle stamped a candy cane striped hoof and spouted haiku. <One common spirit. Friendship forged in the fires of adversity. Our esprit de corp.> He paused. <It’s bad haiku. But it conveys my feelings. I will not leave you. Not any of you.>

<Are you guys sure?> Logan asked, fungaloid brow furrowed.

Inga waved away all other conversation. <We might live in a multiverse, with an infinite number of worlds and possibilities, but there is no reality in which we have left you here. We are the Terrible Twelfth. Now, hush and read the note. I want to know if Bart signed it.> This time, she didn’t correct herself and say Professor Nekhbet.

Logan opened the envelope and unfolded the thick parchment.

Dear Logan Murray and the brave dungeon guardians of the Terrible Twelfth,

We have never been prouder of you. We have never had more faith in you. While you live, you can do wonderful things. All four of you, with the exception of Inga Thosa Therian who has always been superior—have overcome a legion of difficulties. This is but one more. You will win. You will make the Shadowcroft Academy of Dungeons proud. We will celebrate your victory and the end of the year in style. And yes, you will all live to graduate next year.

You have our utmost respect and our absolute faith!

Sincerely,

Skip Shadowcroft and all of the faculty, staff and students

It was literally signed by everyone—except for Rockheart, Jimi Magmarty, and Lady Elesiel. That wasn’t surprising. Of course the biggest signature of all was Professor Suresh the Merciful, Omniscient, and Omnipotent.

Inga was radiant. <Bart did sign it.>

Professor Bartholomew Nekhbet’s signature was small and very formal, just like the bird man himself.

Logan teared up a bit. Until he saw what was written underneath Professor JJ Kobold’s name—All this drama is really going to help me re-negotiate the residuals for Threat Level Scarlet. Thanks for helping out with the screenplay!

Logan had to shake his head. Why wasn’t he surprised that Kobold’s first name was JJ?

The fungaloid tried to roll up and fold the signature parchment, but he’d always been terrible at origami.

Inga helped out. <The note was a very sweet gesture. However, I’m wondering why Marko switched to telepathy.>

All eyes turned on the satyr.

Marko looked a bit sheepish for being a goat man. <I wasn’t kidding when I had said I have commitment issues. After Logan said our bond was going to be permanent, I just… Well, I kind of freaked out. The idea of being tied down. It all just felt so permanent. And it was moving so fast and everyone else was so excited about it. Except me. But I didn’t want to bring anyone down. I just needed some space to sort of process, you know? But now? Now I know that this is right. It feels right. You three are the best friends I’ve ever had. By the drunken god’s bad liver, we’re more than friends. We’re family. GK and Nemoy might not be here to die with you all, but I certainly am.”

Inga gave the satyr a big hug, then stepped back and held him at arms’ length. <I do not believe we are doomed. I have do have questions about our strategy, but I don’t think defeating Shador is impossible, even if he has ascended. But we need to be smart, and we need to decide right now whether or not we abandon our initial plan.>

Logan didn’t think so, but before he could answer, Treacle took out a fresh stick of wrapped wheat. <No,> he sent after a long pause. <Lou Shador’s ascension will only help us. He’ll waltz through the MothalMania 39, and think we’re idiots. By the time he hits the sorting chamber, it’ll be too late. So long as he is overconfident, I think our plan will still come together. He’s tough, but we are tougher.>

<Bring it in,> Marko said. He stuck out a furry hand. <We’re going to do that sports thing where we put our hands together. We’re going to use our new powers and we’re going to win this. I’m wearing a jaunty beret. How can we lose?>

Logan loved his friends. They all put their hands on Marko’s. Then they all shouted, “Esprit de corps!”

This was going to be fight of their lives. But they weren’t dead yet.

A second later, a new presence joined them in the fake sanctum. Logan smelled Ax body spray and a faint whiff of sulfur.

Demonic hooves crunched on the bare stone.

A familiar, handsome blue face smiled at them.

It was Chadrigoth Nobleblade, though he’d undergone some dramatic changes since the last time they’d seen him. Spiky, pearl white armor, crafted from gleaming bone, covered his muscled frame. A blue halo of fire hung suspended between his curved horns while more ghostly blue light leaked between the crevices of his formidable armor. His wings were made of shadow, and he radiated an aura of darkness that seemed to rebuke the presence of the light. Chadrigoth had gone away a plucky, fresh-faced Abyss Lord and come back as a seasoned Ascended Torment Lord.

“Don’t suppose you all have room for one more?” he asked, a grin stretching across a mouth filled with too many fangs.