Daggers frowned. “Agreed. Bugs don’t have treasure. What exactly is the point of raiding this dungeon again?”
Brandybutter rolled his eyes. “Well, for one thing, my good chap, there, at the top of the fountain, is a gemstone.” He wasn’t wrong. Suspended above the waters by flows of magic was a blood ruby the size of a golf ball. “And from the rumors I’ve heard about this place, there are Opal Truffles in this dungeon to boot. I enjoy such delicacies in my nana’s omelets.”
Arfgar roared, veins bulging in his neck and temple. “Me hate mushrooms!”
“Heathen,” Brandybutter muttered with a grimace.
“Opal Truffle cream sauce, a nice wide noodle, some wine, and any number of lusty inn wenches.” Daggers nodded. “But let’s see about this gemstone first.” He padded forward on perfectly silent feet and plucked the gem from the top of the fountain with nimble fingers.
<See?> Inga sent. <We needed that lure there.>
If Logan had possessed lips, he would’ve smiled. This was only going to help their grade.
While the raiders were distracted, Logan focused, sending his consciousness back into the overgrown centipede, who had a very special delivery for those raiders.
Chapter Thirty
LOGAN WAS GRATEFUL for every Monday night he’d spent using his Braincap spores to inhabit the bodies of Inga’s centipedes. Moving all those legs in unison was a tricky bit of business, but he’d taken the same lessons he’d learned during physical therapy and applied them to the creature. Now, it felt almost as natural as walking on two legs. He slithered forward, the rough stone floor sending minute tremors racing up his many appendages. The centipede’s vision was rather lackluster, all things considered, but the vibrations he felt painted a picture of their own.
He could sense the heartbeat of each dungeoneer, could feel their feet shift and sense each of their positions throughout the room. And thanks to the gnarled Braincaps growing from the centipede’s back, Logan also had access to his Fungal Vision, which allowed him to see even in the dark.
He crept forward, slow, steady, and patient, not wanting to draw attention to himself before the time was right for his ambush. At five feet out he reared back, his mandibles silently opening and closing in anticipation of the kill to come. He carried two of the Gem-Studded Puffballs, cradling them like eggs that might break at the slightest provocation. He hurled both puffballs directly at Daggers McFinn with his many jointed arms. Then without a moment of hesitation, Logan launched his insectile form at the Magnificent Mimsy.
He bowled into the sorcerer in the same instant that the puffballs landed. They exploded like frag grenades. One puffball was a direct hit, vaporizing Daggers McFinn where he stood, turning him into little more than pink mist and gory armor. The other sailed past Daggers and smashed against the base of the fountain, sending out a wave of glittering shards of glass in every direction. They weren’t powerful enough to penetrate Feathers’ plate mail, but Arfgar and Brandybutter weren’t so lucky.
Logan expected to get a dose of Apothos from the kill, but then he remembered this was just a simulation. He had to be content with the kill.
As for Mimsy, Logan wrapped his body around the spell-caster’s legs, using his momentum to bear the sorcerer to the ground. Mimsy let out a terrified squawk, shocked at finding himself at the mercy of such a creature. He seemed too flabbergasted to cast a spell. Logan didn’t wait for him to gather his bearings, but rather lashed out with his mandibles, clamping down on one of Mimsy’s forearms, slicing through fabric and drawing hot, metallic blood. He reared back, clawing at Mimsy’s vulnerable face with his spike-tipped legs. He blinded the sorcerer in one eye and left a deep gash across his forehead.
But just as he was preparing to end the spell-caster, he felt the heavy pounding of footfalls followed by the sharp edge of steel biting into his neck.
Things went momentarily dark, and a heartbeat later, Logan found his consciousness back in the inner sanctum.
Wow, that had been one heck of a rush. Although he hadn’t killed Mimsy, the sorcerer was in a bad way. Arm bleeding freely, face shredded, legs peppered with fragments of glass. Logan felt extremely satisfied with the battle.
Better, the action wasn’t over. Two more centipedes, waiting in the wings, charged in, beelining toward the downed spell-caster. If they could end Mimsy here and now, this would pretty much be a wrap. Logan held his breath, his guardian form tense as he waited.
He let out a disgruntled sigh as Feathers darted in from seemingly nowhere, positioning herself between the incoming bugs and the downed caster. She moved with speed and intensity, easily batting away the bugs with her glowing eagle cudgel. Brandybutter was also back on his feet and was launching volley after volley of arrows. Many of the feathered shafts bounced harmlessly off their chitinous exoskeletons, but one skewered a centipede through the center, pinning it against the far wall.
Arfgar charged, axe raised high. He brought the blade down in a wicked arc, finishing off the pinned centipede while Feathers killed the other with a lance of brilliant golden light.
With the insects dead, the barbarian strode over to retrieve the ruby lying in the bloody mess of what once was the rogue. “Thief wanted to loot us. We loot him.” The giant barbarian pointed at Feathers. “You heal wizard.” Not a question but an order. “We go. See? Arfgar in charge.”
“We should go slowly,” Brandybutter cautioned, pulling a piece of glass from his arm. “We lost our thief, and this dungeon is obviously more than it seems at first glance.”
Arfgar didn’t agree. He gave the archer a sneer and then strode down the corridor, strutting like he owned the place.
Inga saw the injustice. <If only we had put our trap room along that hallway.>
<Don’t worry,> Logan sent. <They’re on their way to the antechamber. We’ll let them go past into the inner sanctum, then hit ’em from behind. They’ve already shown that they aren’t too good with surprise attacks.>
<If they get to the pedestal, we’ll fail.> Inga sounded scared. She had a right to be.
Their best bet was to cut down the sorcerer and Feathers the Harbinger since Arfgar and Brandybutter weren’t as bright or as powerful. Speaking of which, both fighters entered the antechamber while the servant of the Bald Phoenix was still busy patching up Mimsy back in the minion room.
Brandybutter saw the alcoves full of mushrooms, and he glanced down to the Mucal Film covering their pit trap. He grimaced. “Good heavens, those Opal Truffles have given me a level of excitement that I cannot contain.” It was almost painful watching him embrace his stupidity. “Although it seems counterintuitive, I must press forward! True, this floor looks suspicious, but the allure of the Truffles is simply too powerful for me to resist. Such a shame, really, that I am so daft.”
He strode forward while Arfgar watched, not even attempting to stop the foolish archer.
Brandybutter tumbled through the Mucal Film, impaling himself on the spikes below. Three more centipedes attacked with hungry fervor, mandibles chewing through his armor and taking his life. Logan didn’t bother inhabiting them, since the kill was over as quickly as it had started.
Mimsy and Feathers entered into the antechamber to find Arfgar with his axe raised. “See! Mushrooms bad! Mushrooms always bad!”