<That’s like seventy-five percent fear,> Inga sent, <and thirty percent anger.>
Treacle didn’t agree. <That doesn’t add up.>
Inga was the one to send her sigh. <I was using hyperbole. It was an attempt at mathematical humor.>
<I do not appreciate such inaccuracies,> the minotaur sent back.
Logan tried to focus the troops. <The dwarf is hitting our room, Inga. I’m going to take control of one of your Tsuki Ants.>
<There is no way our little minion room is going to take out that dwarf and his Earthbinding,> Inga complained.
<Never underestimate the power of ants. We have a culturally specific saying where I come from, that I think applies here: All the ants weigh more than all the elephants. Let’s show this joker how dangerous small things in great volume can be.> Logan sent his consciousness questing out, and suddenly he found himself upside-down, clinging to the ceiling with stout, segmented legs. This body, though different from his own, was far more familiar than the Ugknot Calfling had been. Not far off from Logan was a blinding light source—equal parts Treacle’s engineering and Inga’s Luna power.
Below, Orem entered the room, holding up his bulky shield and squinting against the terrible light.
Big mistake there. Long strings of Blister Wart hung from the ceiling, dangling at eye level. Almost impossible to see in the harsh glare.
The dwarf pushed his shield against the dastardly hanging mushrooms, clearly not realizing what he was brushing up against. The fungi strafed his face and his eyelids.
The effects were immediate. “Ack! Me eyes! Me bleeding eyes!”
Perfect. Logan released his grip on the gritty stone and dropped from the ceiling, landing on the dwarf’s shoulder, conveniently near his unprotected neck. Logan squirmed forward and chomped down using the Tsuki Ant’s formidable mandibles, slicing into the dwarf’s throat. Other ants fell around him like rain, one after another, and the dwarf let out a gurgling scream, batting at the swarming bugs.
Orem did his hammer trick, smashing the ground and sending out a rippling wave of Apothos, shattering the glowing orb overhead in the process and plunging the room into darkness. The shock wave killed most of the ants, but it also caved in the walls, and then, the ceiling came crashing down. An avalanche of sand poured in. This, admittedly, wasn’t part of the plan. They hadn’t known that a blinded dwarf would have a shock-wave hammer, and he’d use it in a room with a thin ceiling that wasn’t directly under the first-level labyrinth.
Whether by hook or by crook, in a fight, you took every victory you could come by.
With the powerful Earthbinder dead and buried, it was time to deal with the last two raiders.
Logan recalled his mind from the humble Tsuki Ant and focused his attention on the cat man and the smarmy thief. It was slow going for them since Flynn Corry couldn’t see, but the cat man could. Tearclaw was leading the thief through the maze, heading for the feast room. The cat man might’ve used his claws as a light source, and the thief had his rings, but both were probably saving their power for the final confrontation. A wise choice, considering what awaited them up ahead. As for the dead Wood Warden’s amulet, that must not have been an option.
<Okay, guys,> Logan sent. <We’re down to two raiders. They’re about to reach the feast room. Marko, are you ready?>
The satyr’s voice blasted his brain. <I’ve never been more ready! I’m going to murder them with both my chandelier and my fountain!>
Logan figured that was the strangest threat that had ever been made in a dungeon, but hopefully it was a threat that proved to be true. They were doing well, but the Tearclaw character was the one to watch. Actually, both the thief and the cat man were surprisingly competent. Almost suspiciously so. Without the other dungeoneers, those two easily avoided the mushroom traps on the Mad Party’s second level.
Treacle piped up. <Logan, there are three Ugknot Calflings left thanks to you. Should I send them to the inner sanctum for the final fight, or should we drag the dwarf and the half-orc up to the digestive pit in the entrance?>
It was a critical decision. Logan made his choice. <Let’s assume Marko’s feast room will at least slow the raiders down. Get those bodies to the upper pit. We’ll use the Apothos for my grand surprise.>
The minotaur responded morosely. <It’s very hopeful. I find hope distasteful. But we’ll do it your way.>
<The dwarf didn’t get all my Tsuki Ants,> Inga sent. <They’re digging out the body now, and then I’ll send them to the feast room.>
Now that was overly optimistic. The whole dungeon might be undone by the time the translucent insects trundled into the sanctum. They were powerful thanks to their sheer numbers, but they weren’t particularly fast.
Tearclaw and the thief rounded the last bend, which dumped them out into the feast room. And what a room. Marko had really come through with his interior design—the mannequins, paintings, music, and riddles had tied everything together, but they all paled in comparison to the feast. The banquet table was an ornate carved monstrosity of opulence, easily large enough to seat thirty guests. Covering the table was enough food to feed a small army.
Silver dishes of fruit—golden Lalini, vine-ripened Dragonwelsh, star-shaped tangerines—and endless varieties of cheese. There were baskets full of warm, fresh-baked bread, fried peppers, bowls filled with soups, and platters heaped high with fish, succulent ribs, wine-glazed pheasant, watercress lobster, and, of course, Opal Truffle everything. Sauces, pies, bakes. It was a foodie’s dream, though the piece de resistance was the tiered silver fountain, which dribbled molten cheese into a central, steaming basin.
It was a nacho cheese fountain, but it was also so much more.
Candles flickered on the table, casting uncertain light on the food, every bit of it alluring. And poisoned. More candles flickered from the huge crystal chandelier up top. There were other varieties of mushrooms in the room, of course, decorating the corners and the walls.
Corry approached the table as though drawn there against his will. “Well, if you’re hungry, there’s enough food for us, Tearclaw. Or do you prefer cat food?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Tearclaw glanced around. “Turning the SandScream into this? Impressive. The four dungeon cores have worked together, and of course, it’s the troublesome fungaloid’s digestive ability that is powering most of this. That... and the cores of the astral moth and the minotaur.”
The way the cat man was talking made Logan pause. It was like he was grading them or something. And how did he know Inga was an astral moth? He’d fought her as a heavy metal caterpillar.
Something was strange... off...
“I’m just going to have a little bite.” The rogue eyed a fresh loaf of bread, a stick of butter, and some very stylish butter knives.
“No, no you’re not.”
The cat man sniffed, to his left... to his right. “The food is spelled. It also happens to be near to bursting with poison.” He pointed to the archway connecting the feast room to the inner sanctum. “There, across the room, is our quarry. The pedestal will contain the four gemstones. It would be easy to walk directly there, too easy. This room is trapped. We’ll stay near the walls, because I don’t trust that damned table.”