Shadowcroft Academy Year 2 - Chapter Eighteen

Inga’s antennae were tight against her head. “Something is wrong with Treacle, and he won’t talk about it.”

Marko was clueless. “Maybe he’s just not feeling well? Like he said. Bad grass? The cud not sitting well in his third stomach? Or maybe he needs to be milked?”

“You do that with cows,” Logan pointed out. “And don’t make the joke I know you want to make.”

“What joke?” Marko shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Maybe bull boy just needs some space. We have been spending a lot of time together. I’m an extrovert. I love it. Treacle, though, is very introvert-y.”

The open space next to Inga was soon full of everyone’s favorite kitchen ghast. “Logan! Friends! Can I sit here? I just finished a delightful meal with the First Cohort. They hate you. Not the cat girl, I think she likes you, from what I can tell. But Chadrigoth and the others? Pure loathing!”

Marko rolled his eyes. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

While they talked, the four-armed serving woman showed up bearing wooden platters nearly overflowing with food. With the quick efficiency of service industry veteran, she deposited baskets of fried shrimp, French fries, and onion rings, along with pots of honey. Each had a dipper for easy drizzling. She gave them a tight smile then whisked away their empty glass and vanished back into the sea of patrons.

Marko uncapped the pot in front of him. “I knew Inga had a sweet tooth, so I totally wanted you all to eat the death-by-fry baskets. You can join us Melvin because when it comes to fried food, the more the merrier.”

“I’d be delighted to join you!” the Kitchen Ghast tipped his hat back and then lifted up his apron. Something writhed under his chef whites, and before Logan knew it, he was staring at what amounted to a sarlacc pit in the middle of Melvin’s belly, just above his glittering green dungeon core gem. Pale tentacles reached out, slathered honey on an onion ring, then popped it into the teeth-lined hole, which spasmed queasily.

Marko laughed. “Melvin, that’s so awesome! So is your top mouth for decoration?”

“Well, Mr. Laskarelis, I’m glad you asked. My belly maw actually has a very sensitive series of taste nubbins that can detect every subtlety. The mouth on my face I primarily use for locution. Which I am doing now with the words I’m speaking!” Melvin sat holding up his clothes, so they all had a view of his bare abdomen. Logan hadn’t had much of an appetite to begin with, but that totally killed his hunger. He’d just drink his Christmas cookie soda and dine on the moldy bread in his digestion pit back in his room.

Inga kept her eyes on her own plate, which was piled high with friend shrimp, fries, and rings. She drizzled everything in honey.

Melvin had a question. “So, Ms. Inga Thosa Therian, what do we call the Eritrean honey dipper?”

Inga held up her dipper. “Well, Mr. Melvin R. Chevalier. It depends on how many ridges there are. This one has four ridges, so it would be a tessera louche. If there were five ridges? A penta louche.”

Melvin pulled his apron to the side, so he could clap and eat at the same time. His belly tentacles kept the feasting going with a will of their own. “Yes! Very good. And if this were the Forevergreen Festival Day itself, what would we be using as dippers?”

Inga’s forehead furrowed. “I don’t… I don’t remember.”

“No worries,” the cheery kitchen ghast said. “You’d use the septua koutala, which has seven ridges, the longer handle and the prying blade at the back. The ancient Eritreans enjoyed honey on their fried blood mussels, but you had to pry open the little buggers first.”

Inga sighed. “I’d forgotten about the koutala. You’re right of course.”

“Be of good cheer, milady,” Melvin’s eyes were bright and cheery. “In the end, you’ll know more about the wonders of ancient flatware than most scholars. Professor Nekhbet enjoys the details as much as you and I.”

Logan watched Inga’s face soften. “So you’re enjoying the class?” she asked.

“Yes! I thought it was rather remedial until we got into the strawberry spoons, and then I found it fascinating.” One of Melvin’s belly tentacles daintily drizzled honey on an onion ring before stuffing it down into the circles of teeth. “And then when he decided to do the unit on butter knives, bread knives, and hackaal knives, well, I thought my brain would explode. I came up with several clever mnemonics to aid me.”

Inga nodded. “I just might need help there. Hackaal knives are a new concept for me.”

Logan found it odd that suddenly a half-naked Melvin eating with belly tentacles seemed halfway normal. It was surprising what you could get used to. Logan also thought of the Bharooshian runes they’d found when Ed had been killed in the Blasted Barrows.

Marko did as well it seemed. “Hey, Mel guy, what do you know about ancient Bharooshian runes?”

A dark look settled over the kitchen ghast’s face. All cheer left his eyes. “It’s Melvin. Please, or Mr. Chevalier. I don’t want to talk about the cookbook. It’s very… embarrassing.”

Said the guy with his shirt open.

Melvin swept off his hat and wiped some sweat off his brow. “But yes, I wrote it using the ancient Bharooshian runes.” He chuckled, trying to come off happy, but instead, each chuckle might’ve been a sob. “I was so arrogant in my youth, pedantic, pernicious, perspicacious.”

Marko wrinkled his nose. “No, it’s not that. It’s that we found—”

Logan nudged his friend to be quiet.

Steve lifted a hand over Marko’s head and pointed.

Chadrigoth was suddenly there, at the edge of the table, rising like a demonic mountain above them.

Before he knew it, Logan was plucked from the booth, and he found himself being carried out the door. He was so surprised that he didn’t react right away. It wasn’t like Chadrigoth could kill him in public. There had to be some rule against dungeon cores murdering each other.

Outside, Magmarty and Lady Elesiel stood with their arms crossed.

Logan was about to hit the abyss lord with a spore attack when he was hurled against the wall. He tumbled down to his knees.

“You hurt Lady Elesiel,” Chadrigoth growled. “And your stupid goat friend claimed the best table at Enrico’s. It’s not fair.”

Logan picked himself up. He activated his Exoskeleton ability, drastically thickening his skin as he prepared to absorb a punishing blow.

Chadrigoth was wearing a black coat and a black satin shirt, but the gleam of his dungeon core couldn’t be dimmed.

Logan grit his teeth as the shadowy fire on the muscled arm burned him. “It was a class assignment, asshat. Your girlfriend and I raced. I won.”

“By throwing your gem,” Chadrigoth sneered. “Are you that desperate to win every little game? Are you that uncertain of yourself?”

Those words sliced through Logan’s heart, but he still laughed. “Those sound like rhetorical questions. I really don’t think you care what I say.”

Chadrigoth crouched and ripped Logan’s gemstone from his belly. The big beast held it, squeezing it in his claws. Logan heard his gem crack dangerously. He had a brief dizzy moment, of being the gem, and being his body, but not really in either of them.

Then his consciousness settled into the gem. He felt Chadrigoth’s’ fingers, but he could also see through his dungeon core’s eyes. Luckily, with his dungeon experiences, Logan had grown accustomed to being in multiple places at the same time.

Chadrigoth grunted out a little chuckle. “Just a little pressure. Just a little crack. And you would be over. I might get kicked out of school—hell, they might think I’ve gone rogue—but you would be over.”

It was clear that Chadrigoth had come completely unhinged. Logan wondered if this was the end of him. No wonder Professor Zantho hadn’t wanted him to face the abyss lord. However, if the douche bag did shatter his gem, Logan would die knowing that the Fairy Fetch just might hunt Chadrigoth down and destroy him as well. A small victory, but sometimes you had to take what you could get.

An iron and copper ball rolled across the ground and came to a stop right under the abyss lord’s clawed feet. One of Treacle’s toys. It exploded out in hinged arms, striking Chadrigoth in the thighs, belly, and face. Lady Elesiel was flung into Magmarty. The lich queen let out a hiss as a little of Magmarty’s lava burned her skin.

Chadrigoth’s eyes flashed an evil purple light and Treacle’s contraption vanished into dust.

Treacle himself stormed forward. The skin on his arm opened up and the Terra hammer coiled out on a spring and smacked into his hand. “Put his gem core back, Chadrigoth!”

By this time, Inga, Marko, Steve, and Melvin had come tearing out of Enrico’s along with half of the patrons. Marko began clapping, dancing, and hypnotizing the lich queen and the rock elemental. Marko laughed, but that laughter was imbued with Apothos. The normally fun-loving satyr now looked demonic and his laughter was downright diabolical. “Watch, fools, as the dark muse dances.”

Inga floated up into the air, getting ready to obliterate them with a Moonlance.

But the biggest surprise was Steve and Melvin.

The kitchen ghast, chef’s white and apron back in place, removed a cherry triangle from his pocket. The smell of it even made Logan salivate, and he was basically a gem at that point. The pastry smelled so good, and looked so delicious, that Chadrigoth’s hold on Logan’s core relaxed. His eyes were fixated on that cherry treat like starving man who’d just seen salvation in pastry form. Honestly, everyone was staring. The entire market was quiet, everyone transfixed either by Marko’s dancing or Melvin’s pastry.

Steven sped over on squeaking hinges, plucked the gem out of Chadrigoth’s hands, and slipped it back into Logan’s body with surprisingly nimble fingers.

Inga’s hands flashed with her Moonlance spell. Bolts of magic blasted through the fiery arms holding Logan to the wall.

Logan staggered away. He trigger Exoskeleton to thicken the lines of hard fungal growths lining his body. At the same time he activated two of the three silver rings on his hand. Armor winked into placed while a short silver sword manifested in right hand. With a thought, Logan triggered the third ring—which Treacle had discovered was a spatial void capable of holding an almost unlimited amount of gear—and summoned his ruby shield. Chadrigoth had caught him off guard, but in a blink, Logan was ready for a brawl.

Although, at the moment, it didn’t seem like it would come to that. Melvin was holding the line like a champion.

The kitchen Ghast stood tall in his fedora and sneakers, his chef whites gleaming, and yes, he was kind of a goof, but right then, he was channeling powerful Apothos out of his core. His face took on a darkness, terrifying and overwhelming. His voice was a god-like growl. “Prince Chadrigoth of the First Realm, of the Eritreus Elite, do you submit to the pastry?”

The abyss lord nodded. “Yeah. Sure, Melvin. Can I have that cherry triangle? It smells so good.”

Melvin’s wide mouth opened to reveal his jagged teeth. His smile, his laugh, were terrible, frightening even. “Submit to the pastry and leave Logan alone, tonight, and for thirty nights to come. Do you agree to this?”

Logan realized this was hardcore dungeon-core magic. Melvin was wielding a power that had stopped a high-level B-Class cultivator in his tracks. That wouldn’t have been possible if Melvin hadn’t been at a similar level.

“Fine.” Chadrigoth swept the pastry out of Melvin’s hand and kept on walking. Over his shoulder, “Jimi, Elesiel, let’s go.”

“You better share that cherry,” Magmarty growled as he followed the abyss lord through the market.

“I want some!” Elesiel whined and tore after her friends.

The First Cohort stomped off through the market and out into a snowstorm on their back to the Bone Vaults.

Melvin bent down and grabbed Logan’s hand. “Are you okay, buddy? Gosh, that was tense. I had to use my pastry magic on them. I try not to do that to other dungeon cores because we’re all supposed to be on the same team.”

Steve stood behind Logan, squeaking as he patted the mushroom man.

Inga, Marko, Treacle, and stepped forward.

“By my sharp beak, Logan, are you okay?” Inga gasped.

Logan shook Melvin’s hand. “It seems I am for thirty nights. Thanks, Melvin. Thanks a million.”

Melvin grinned. “It is my pleasure to serve, milord.” He rose. “Wow, a bar fight. I swore I was done with them. Looks like I was wrong. What an eventful night!”

It had been eventful, but Logan wasn’t sure what any of it meant. He did know he was going to enjoy not having to worry about the prince of Chads bothering him for a month. In the meantime, he couldn’t help but think about Chadrigoth’s rhetorical questions.

Are you that desperate to win every little game? Are you that uncertain of yourself?

The sad truth? The answer was yes to both questions.

Steve kept on noisily patting him, which didn’t make Logan feel any better.