By Mario Fan
Author's Note: An appendix for this
volume can be found here.
Click the link to open the appendix in a new window. You can then browse
through it at your leisure without losing your place in the story.
Chapter Thirteen: Trials of the Forest
We depend on the trees like the air that we breath and the water that we drink from the river. It fuels us, bends our livelihood to its will, and so we are its students—obedient and fearful.
The thousands of refugees from Rose Town were packed tightly within the borders of Tadpole Pond, resting in a hesitant peacefulness after the terrors of the evacuation. It had been hard to leave them there, frightened, confused, unknowing of the supernatural events looming over the dawn of every day. As far as they were concerned, they had been uprooted from their ancestral homes without rhyme or reason and forced into a foreign land where all they could do was pray and hope for the best.
“They’ll be fine,” said Yoshi, keeping a careful watch on his friend. “Frogfucious will keep them entertained, and besides, we did the only thing we could. These omens are too muddled now for us to think clearly, so we have to act on what information we’re given.”
“History doesn’t look back kindly on presumptions,” said Ryanoshi, eyes downcast. “Still, I don’t really care what our descendents think about us, but I want what’s right for them, nonetheless. It’s just that we’re so small an influence and that we have no assurance of others working towards some higher aim as we are. There’s too much faith involved, too much trust in something whose effects we’ve only heard through a no-account cook.”
“Zat’s Chef Torte to you, bug-eyes,” said the unruly Terrapin, griping on trivial matters every step of the way. “And don’t glare at moi like zat. I’m a delicate genius, requiring ze utmost of your respectful treatment.”
“Oh, so he’s a delicate genius!” Admiral Bobbery exclaimed, his outstanding mustache furled in anger. “A good packing in one of my cousin's cannons ought to do him some good!”
“Stop it, both of you,” said Yoshi, frowning. “We’d get there much faster if you two stopped bickering.”
Reluctantly, the Terrapin and the Bob-omb became quiet and simply stayed out of each other’s way. Neither put it beyond himself to cast a sour glance at his rival every few minutes, though.
They finally passed out of sight of the town and over a cluster of hills into a deep valley. Near the bottom was a fork in the road, with the northern passage leading into the dark green blur of the Forest Maze. It stretched boundlessly to the edge of the continent and loomed ahead of them, almost taunting in the scope of its influence.
“You’re all going to hate moi for zis, but I must go down zere and get some Mushrooms,” Chef Torte said. “For our on-ze-road meals, you know.”
“No way,” said Bobbery. “We’re not letting you run off so easily, and besides, we’re on a tight time schedule here.”
“We do need some supplies, though, and Rose Town was cleaned out by the citizens,” muttered Ryanoshi. He sat down on a large rock and studied the two paths before them. “If I sent Yoshi with you, how soon could you be back?”
“Forty minutes, tops,” said the Terrapin, grinning. He made an odd gesture with one hand. “Chef’s honor.”
“You can’t trust him with Master Yoshi, sir,” said the Bob-omb, fuming. “He’ll stab him in the gullet the first chance he gets.”
“No Koopa’s going to get the better of me,” said Yoshi. “I’ll be fine.”
“Then hurry up and get back,” said Ryanoshi, waving them away. “We’ll stay here and lay out plans while you’re gone. I’ve been wanting to ask the good admiral more about Frankly and his scroll, anyway.”
The pair watched them as they walked off quickly down the road and then noted the noon positioning of the sun. Winter was approaching more swiftly every day, and the air was not much warmer than it had been during the first hours of the morning. Biting, incessant, they could already feel the harshness of the coming snowstorms.
“Do you think Professor Frankly and Goombella are still excavating Land’s End?” asked Ryanoshi suddenly, eyes still trained on the wide vista ahead of them.
“They had barely started when they sent me here to look out for any strange signs from the Forest Maze. If you’ll remember, it said something in the scroll about just such an area being involved in the prophecy, but…” Bobbery stopped, realizing something. “Hey, that’s why you let Mr. Traitor and Yoshi go down there, isn’t it?”
“It was one of the driving reasons, yes,” said the dinosaur plainly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not using them for bait. In fact, I expect nothing to happen of any significance.”
“You should have just told them outright, laddie,” said the Bob-omb. “That dino’s a good sailor. He’d have done it if you’d asked.”
“Yes, but Chef Torte might not have. Sure, he was there when you mentioned it earlier, but I’m sure it’s left his mind by now. I’ve no doubt that he intends to escape, but then he’s not counting on my friend’s own remarkable abilities, either. Worst case scenario, whatever he makes with those Mushrooms won’t be worth the spit to digest it.”
“Then we’re truly wasting time,” said Bobbery with a raspy chuckle. He coughed out smoke from the volatile chemicals of his innards and turned the helm on his back. “This clean air is doing me horrors. Give me a smog-chocked sea port any day of the week.”
“I recall,” said Ryanoshi, unconcerned, “you saying they thought they had found one of the entrances to these four Breaking Altars at the Thousand-Year Door. Furthermore, let me suggest that this Altar, being precedent to the forging of Plit, was sealed up by the same heroes that blocked off the Shadow Queen.”
“Makes sense,” said Bobbery, settling in the dry grass. “Still, why would the Shadow Queen choose such a conspicuous and important place for her re-entry and then go about her business without trying to uncover its secrets?”
“That is all assuming that the Shadow Queen had a choice in the manner,” said Ryanoshi, smiling. He held up a finger and considered something. “Now, then, what if the Shadow Queen was simply one of the forces of evil, like the one Frankly estimated might be found in the Forest Maze? True, she would have to have been uncommonly powerful and able to escape long before this Breaking of the World was due to occur, but it would put things into perspective.”
“Useless conjectures,” said the Bob-omb, puffing indignantly. “We should be out doing something, not poring over data that we can’t utilize. That’s one of the primary rules of combat, you know.”
“But it is important,” said Ryanoshi. “Finally, I want you to consider this. The Thousand-Year Door was a trap, pure and simple. Promising lavish treasures, it actually was a beyond-the-grave incentive from the Shadow Queen for mortals to free her. As you know, it worked terribly well.”
“Don’t remind me,” said Bobbery, averting his gaze. The images of navigating through the ethereal halls of the Palace of Darkness still haunted his memories. “Get on with it, already.”
“My apologies,” said the dinosaur. “In as few words as possible, I mean that the Breaking Shrine could be another ruse, like the so-called treasure behind the Thousand-Year Door. I don’t really have an explanation for the flood and any other predicted catastrophes, though, but it doesn’t mean we should throw out the theory. Those we seek to stop by activating the Altars could be the very ones that are causing the disasters, willingly and without any connection to a preordained prophecy.”
“Woah, you’re going off on a typhoon there,” said Bobbery. “Don’t make things over-complicated.”
“Maybe,” said Ryanoshi, mind ablaze with troubling thoughts. “Still, I’d like to have another talk with Frogfucious before we head off to the Mushroom Valley. I’ll never rest easily if I don’t.”
~*~*~*~
“You know, I really do hate you,” said Chef Torte to his traveling companion as they drew closer to the line of dense trees towering before them. “Just zought you’d like to know zat.”
“It’s nice to know you can be so honest with me,” mumbled Yoshi. “Really, Torte, let’s try to make this as pleasant as possible. We need to get in and get out, so don’t do anything stupid.”
“Oh, but zat takes all ze fun out of it,” said the Terrapin with mock disappointment. “Really, Dino Breaz, you should lighten up. It’s not like it’s ze end of ze verld or anyzing… oh, vait.”
“That’s it, I’m just ignoring everything dumb you say from now on. Of course, that’s pretty much the same as ignoring you completely.”
Furious at losing the attention, Chef Torte considered bringing up the flood again but then thought better of it. Soon he would be separated from this loser and off on his way to survival and riches, with or without his traitorous Apprentice.
Alzough it vould be fun to force him back into my hand, thought the chef in his thick accent. A beaten pup serves its masteir all ze betteir, zey say.
“Just don’t be completely quiet, either,” said Yoshi warily. “You’ll worry me over there, scheming your little head away.”
“Moi does NOT haf a small head, bronto brain,” the Terrapin said resentfully. “If you vant to talk about big heads, zough, you take ze cake. Ve’re talking bulbous cranium alert here.”
Yoshi ground his teeth but cast the ill thoughts away and straightened his shoulders. Indifferent, he walked along silently for another few minutes until they finally entered the carved out grove that marked the beginning of the Forest Maze. Golden specks of pollen floated in the thickly-scented air, and the tangled grass rose up to meet their knees.
Yoshi pointed to a hollow tree trunk jutting out from the middle of the coppice with moss growing over its sides. Sunlight from bare patches in the canopy seemed to shine down only on that central edifice, as if indicating it was the single gateway to another world. In many ways, of course, it was.
“No Mushrooms ever grow out here,” said the dinosaur. “It’s like the forest desires for its visitors not to linger, but to come in and remain here forever. Too much deception, though, for such a friend. This place is not to be trusted.”
“You’re joking right?” Chef Torte asked, and snorted derisively. “It’s a bunch of leaves and vood, Yoshi, not some collective Mozeir Brain. You talk like ze zing’s alive or somezing.”
“All plants are living things, if that’s what you mean. That life force is something greater out here, though, as if all the trees and shrubs are working together and bound under one consciousness.”
“I should haf known you’d be a nut, too,” said the Terrapin, crossing his arms. “Just lead ze vay, already. Vere are ze Mushrooms if not around here?”
“There are usually a few growing in the grove just beyond that tunnel. Come on, we have to hurry. Ryanoshi and Bobbery will expect us to get back within the hour.”
Reluctantly, Chef Torte followed Yoshi through the empty tree stump and through a dank, underground passage carved out of the earth. After a minute or so of crawling, they climbed out of another trunk and found themselves in a much larger grove, replete with more of the same open stumps and several species of Mushrooms growing along the borders.
“Perfect,” said the Terrapin, eagerly pulling out a roughly woven sack and stuffing as many of the delectable items as he could into it. “Moi shall make a vonderful soup viz zese beauties. Anticipate nozhing but ze best!”
While Chef Torte obsessed over gathering fungi, Yoshi sat down on a knot of moss and surveyed the area. Even he, with his knowledge of the forest’s deceit, could not help but be lulled by the serenity all around them, and he began to hope that the Terrapin would never finish collecting the Mushrooms.
“Hey, dumbo, get up,” said the tactless chef. “Zere might be more shrooms behind you.”
“Oh, sorry,” said Yoshi, still in a daze. He glanced up at the arching canopy, so thickly intertwined that the light from the sky only pressed against the green and gold of the leaves. “It’s a shame we can’t stay here, Torte. Maybe I was wrong about it.”
“You vere vrong about a lot of zhings, moron,” said Chef Torte spitefully, and smashed the dinosaur’s head in with his most durable pan. “Neveir turn your back on a foreigner. You neveir know vat vacky zings zey’ll do next.”
The Terrapin gleefully admired his handiwork before dragging the limp body under a cluster of berry bushes and piling twigs and clumped-together grass over the area to conceal the Yoshi’s tail. Free once more, Chef Torte attempted an evil laugh and disappeared down the nearest tree trunk.
Of course, he had picked the wrong one.
~*~*~*~
“They should’ve been out by now, don’t you reckon?” said Admiral Bobbery, not expecting an answer. “Maybe we should go in and pull ‘em out.”
“It is getting rather late,” Ryanoshi said uneasily, watching the sun sink to the west. “We might never find them if we just go in without an idea where they are, though. Perhaps I should’ve thought of this before now…”
“For someone so intelligent, you’re not very practical,” said the Bob-omb, working himself up into a fluster. “What do you propose?”
“At the risk of sounding contradictory, that we enter the forest. There’s really nothing else we can do.”
“Now those are the kinds of options I can deal with,” said Bobbery, his helm spinning excitedly. “Well, are you up for a bit of bushwhacking?”
“Not so much,” said Ryanoshi, gulping.
Nevertheless, he followed the admiral down the hill and along the path that would take them into the Forest Maze.
~*~*~*~
“I svear ze entrance vas around here somevere,” said Chef Torte. “Oh, bozeir.”
Instead of coming up through the single stump with the wide open fields of the Rose Meadow clearly before him, the Terrapin was in a larger subterranean chamber. Brown earth was packed densely into walls, and the floor beneath him was hardened with coldness. Patches of moss grew plentiful Mushrooms along the ground, and he noticed that some of them seemed to be breathing, their caps expanding and deflating in regular intervals.
“Moi should probably head back and try anozeir tree trunk,” he said to himself, weighing the choices. “Zen again, zere’s a suckeir in Seaside Town who pays big bucks for zese babies. Can’t pass up an opportunity like zat, now can I?”
Giving into greed, the Terrapin ambled over to a healthy-looking group of Mushrooms and began uprooting them, adding the best parts to his collection. While he was whistling a cheerful tune, though, one of the “living” fungi pulled itself out of the earth and made a noise too low for Chef Torte to detect. Soon, several of the Amanitas left their homes and swarmed the intruder.
“Vat’s zis?” the Terrapin said. “All of you, shoo! I just vant your cousins. You, er, can go back to being little Mushroomies now, ok?”
The creatures seemed insistent on his leaving, though, and herded him towards a cracked section of the far wall. Many of them began to spin around, shooting out glowing spheres of pollen that lit up the moist air of the cavern. As their sweet scent overcame Chef Torte’s senses, he muttered something drowsily and passed out where he stood.
The rustle of the Amanitas caps could be heard plainly now, and the few in the middle glided to either side as they made room for something. Down the makeshift aisle floated an Octolot, her suspended red body and flashing yellow eyes overshadowed only by her long and funnel-shaped mouth. Impatiently, the mushroom monsters chattered among themselves as the creature prepared to speak.
“You’ve done well, my children,” said the Octolot, her peach-colored tentacles twitching approvingly. “Yes, this is a fine catch.”
Eyes glowing, she reached into the folds of her spongy skin and pulled out a packet of rare soil. After she sprinkled it over the ground, the Amanitas crowded in to consume it, screeching their gratitude. While they were occupied, thick green vines seeped through the fissures in the wall and slid over Torte’s still form.
“My new baby is growing nicely,” purred the Octolot. She picked up one of the stray vines with her mouth and laid it over the Terrapin’s legs. “There you go, sweetie. Momma wouldn’t forget your dinner. Eat up, but save your appetite. The main course is on its way.”
Slowly, eagerly, the vines gripped Chef Torte tightly and pulled him into the soft earth of the cavern walls. They closed in an avalanche, and the sated Amanitas gathered back around the Octolot, awaiting her command.
“Now, then,” she said pleasantly, caressing one of the creatures as it passed underneath. “We have much more work to do, for there are many visitors to attend. Yes, my children, and a hungry mouth to feed.”
~*~*~*~
“This is the main transit system of the forest,” said Ryanoshi quietly, as if aware of someone watching them. “All of these hollow stumps lead deeper into the maze, and many of them are blatant traps set by the more clever things that live here.”
“How far, exactly, do the woods extend?” asked Bobbery nervously, now constantly checking behind him.
“To the ocean, or at least the shoreline. It is the single largest forest in the Mushroom Kingdom, completely dwarfing those outside Toad Town and Twilight Town. The Hyline Woodlands in Birabuto may cover more land, but they are sparse and nowhere as labyrinthine as the Forest Maze.”
“A keen place for a picnic, then,” the Bob-omb said with an anxious laugh. “Which stump do you think they went through from here?”
“Hard to tell,” said Ryanoshi, fishing for something in his saddle. “I think Yoshi memorized which ones were dead ends long ago. He gave me a rough chart for it a while back, and I may still… ah, here it is.”
“Hold on to that, chief,” said the admiral, rummaging through a pile-up of leaves and pine needles. “I found him!”
“Yoshi!” exclaimed the other dinosaur. He came over and glanced at his friend’s inert body. “There’s a nasty bump on his head. Looks like Chef Torte was more wily than I thought. I wonder what caused Yoshi to let his guard down…”
“No time for that! We’ve got to revive him and find that double-crossing scalawag. I knew he was more trouble than he was worth from the very beginning.”
Ryanoshi ignored the admiral’s furious demands and woke Yoshi up with a piece of cloth that was apparently very pungent. The dinosaur stirred and then gagged at the awful smell, pushing himself up off the ground.
“A few good smacks would’ve been more humane,” said Yoshi, coughing. “Where’s Torte? I’ll throttle him!”
“Looks like he’s already flown the coop,” said Bobbery. He searched angrily for any obvious trails, kicking up strands of loose moss as he paced the ground. “We can’t just let him get away with this!’
“But we have no other choice than to let him be,” said Ryanoshi, issuing a deep sigh. “Besides, he didn’t really cause any harm. Just wasted time, that’s all. Even that can be downplayed, though, if we pick up some Mushrooms before we leave.”
“I guess,” admitted Yoshi, rubbing his head mostly for effect. The pain had long since died down by benefit of the dinosaur’s superior healing properties. “I don’t think the admiral will be so willing to abandon the chase, however.”
“Blasted correct, I won’t!” the Bob-omb steamed, pounding his feet into the damp soil. “We mustn’t let scoundrels escape their rightful punishment!”
Yoshi yelped and jumped to his feet as a spiked vine traveled under his rump and slid tightly around the admiral’s body. Struggling, Bobbery tried to wind himself up for an explosion, but something below the earth—deep down where the vine had originated—let out a hideous shriek. The ground upheaved mightily, spraying rock and mud in all directions and tearing the pollen-chocked air with a quake that split the silence.
A pause of grating quiet rushed where the loudness left and then collapsed again into chaos, with multiple, larger vines bursting from the forest floor and curving towards the intruders. Bobbery was held high and made an example against the roof of branches and autumnal colors above. His helm and fuse struggled to function, but the strength was quickly leaving him for an empty shell.
“Cut them as thin as you can!” yelled Ryanoshi over the noise, looking over at Yoshi as both pulled their ceremonial blades out. “Find the one that’s holding Bobbery!”
“And watch your own tail; it’s after us, too!” Yoshi warned, running headlong into battle.
Fluttering into the air, Ryanoshi slashed through a forest of the pulsing vines and alighted on a branch farther up, every second having to fight away the limitless arms of the unseen plant. Yoshi advanced forward and below, hacking through the topmost parts of the appendages he passed and leaping over the ones that he missed as they sailed beneath him. Crumbling, the earth ripped again, and a huge purple-veined bulb smashed through the remnant of the surface crust.
“Watch out!” said Bobbery, spotting it before the rest of them.
Ryanoshi glanced up briefly and saw the bright folds of the bulb peel open to reveal four yellow-dusted stalks. As they quivered, the tendrils seemed about to strike, but when they gave a final retch the blooms of pollen erupted from the flower and flocculated in the air. Spinning, gleaming, the bits of aromatic powder descended and fell deadly-beautiful over the ground.
“Cover your nose and mouth!” Ryanoshi shouted hoarsely.
He was already fumbling with a piece of cloth in his saddle and clamping it tightly over his face. Yoshi followed suit and dove behind a cluster of bushes, but the toxic atmosphere was already affecting Bobbery. With a final yell of resistance, his body went limp, and the vines dragged him easily into the earth.
Not wishing to wait for the pollen to clear, the two Yoshis kept their masks on, swords bared, and leapt into the gaping pit where the monster had emerged. A terrible groaning rose up from the depths of the forest as they dropped faster and farther into shadow. They fluttered as they neared the bottom and rolled along a bed of saturated soil, their eyes opening on a long, cavernous hall. Oddly enough, there was no sign of the plant that had so recently come through.
“It couldn’t have vanished already,” said Yoshi, gasping for air. The fight had been tiring for both of them. “Almost like this place has been untouched.”
Ryanoshi muttered to himself, considering their surroundings, and when he looked up saw the hole they had fallen into was covered over. Only the bioluminescent glow of the fungi plastered along the walls gave light to the dim cave.
“What it plows through repairs itself, probably by means of some restorative chemical it leaves behind,” said Ryanoshi, running his hands over the sides of the underground hallway. “Look for weaknesses in the soil.”
They both scoured the edges, pushing against the solidly packed dirt and failing to find anything conspicuous. Visibly frustrated, Ryanoshi huffed and placed one arm out, leaning into the nearby wall. Both Yoshis stared in blank surprise as the mud sucked in his body up to the shoulder.
“Looks like I found it,” Ryanoshi said wryly, yanking his arm back out. “But how are we going to break through?”
Yoshi said nothing, but only withdrew his sword and plunged it deep into the wall. There came a shrill scream followed by a geyser of green, stringy fluid that sprayed over their faces. Two thick vines shot out and flailed madly before everything collapsed and revealed the tunnel where the monster had escaped.
“We’ll never make any progress like this,” said Ryanoshi, peering hesitantly into the utterly black tunnel before them. “There’s no telling how deeply the heart of the plant is rooted.”
“A heart?” asked Yoshi, one eyebrow raised. “It’s a plant, isn’t it?”
“Something more than that, I’m afraid. I believe it’s the demon foretold in the prophecy, or at least one of them. Things this big and vicious don’t just spawn and attack the surface recklessly after centuries of peacefulness.”
“Whatever it is, I’m following it,” said Yoshi, turning to go through.
“Wait! I think I have a better idea,” Ryanoshi said, testing the stability of the loam beneath them. “Think we can synchronize our ground pounds enough to—”
“—smash straight down and head him off?” Yoshi finished, grinning. “It’s worth a shot.”
~*~*~*~
Chef Torte awoke with the biggest headache he’d had since one crazy night at Guzzler’s Grotto in an Ocean Side bar. Moving around, he pieced out that he was constricted by the heavy overlapping of a vine, and he was apparently still underground. Beside him, Admiral Bobbery was trapped in the same fashion, but the brown Bob-omb remained unconscious.
“Note to moi,” he said groggily. “Neveir, eveir come to Rose Town again.”
“And miss out on the local flavor?” came a soft, lilting voice from somewhere around him. “Oh, but you won’t have that chance. You must fill another’s plate for now.”
“Who said zat?” the Terrapin yelled needlessly.
An Octolot materialized in front him, still partially hidden by the biological cloakers suspended on either side of her body. She twirled around in excitement and floated nearer to him, touching the side of his face with a squelching tentacle.
“Be silent now, child,” she whispered. “Marmaloo will make things all better.”
“Marmaloo?” he stammered, restraining a giggle. “Zat’s ze stupidest name I’ve eveir heard.”
“Insolence will not be tolerated!” said the creature, smacking him with several of her adhesive limbs. “You’ll be silenced soon enough.”
“I think not, lady,” said Bobbery, now fully awake, the fizzle-crackle of his fuse suddenly audible. His helm was spinning rapidly, breaking through the tough fiber of the dead vines. “I’ll take both of you out in one hit!”
“MON DIEU!” screamed Chef Torte, struggling to free himself.
The Bob-omb halted his countdown when two familiar figures broke through the ceiling, though. Growling, Yoshi wrapped his tongue around the Octolot and bashed her against the walls repeatedly. Ryanoshi frowned at the two prisoners’ condition and soundlessly cut their bonds with his blade.
“Any harm done?” he asked.
“None yet,” said Bobbery, turning to give Torte what he deserved. “Although a certain Koopa’s going to be needing a medic real soon.”
A splitting screech interrupted their conflict, and the Octolot increased her volume even more, breaking free of Yoshi’s grip. Her tentacles spun out of control, eyes flashing violently, and the scream built up until they all felt their eardrums constricting.
“Come out, baby,” she said, now quiet again. “Come out and play.”
Gnarled vines burst from beneath them, more prodigious than any of the previous ones, wrapping tightly around their bodies and forcing them up painfully to the surface. Chef Torte panicked but then managed to thumb an activation switch on his pan, and a sharp needle shot out, slicing his way to empty airtime. Struggling, Ryanoshi and Yoshi similarly cut their way out and plummeted to the ground, Admiral Bobbery exploding and not far behind them.
“Looks like she finally drove it over the edge,” said Yoshi, stance solid on the trembling ground. A throbbing mass of pulse veins, reddish-green flesh, and a bilious eye formed an upheaval in the surface. “There’s the head!”
“Leave zis vone to moi!” said Chef Torte, charging.
The Terrapin didn’t make it far before he had too many vines to deal with, but he was holding a sufficient amount of them off for Ryanoshi to rush in as well, swinging his own sword. Once he was occupied, Yoshi followed after him and chopped away at the ever-increasing appendages with his long blade, the thick green liquid flowing like cool magma from the severed plant skin.
Admiral Bobbery tried to dash into the fray along with his comrades, but Marmaloo buzzed angrily before him, her glowing eyes tensed with fury. The cloaking orbs hovering to either side of her were barely functioning, forcing her to shift in and out of sight uncontrollably.
“You’re hurting my dear son!” she shrieked, sending a globule of acidic ink at the Bob-omb. She slammed her tentacles into the ground when he dodged. “Just leave us alone!”
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said, evading another of her slimy limbs, “but that doesn’t seem to be an option. He’s quite intent, you see, on ripping us apart. I’d leave, too, if I were you.”
“Vigor up!” shouted Marmaloo, and a red column of sparkling light surrounded her body. Puffs of searing fire shot forward, scorching the earth. “Burn, burn!”
“Too hot to handle, indeed!” said Bobbery nervously, rushing underneath her and making another pass at the plant demon.
Knowing he had to reach the head, the admiral slinked by unnoticed through the gaps his friends had made by fighting, rolling out finally in front of the monster’s gargantuan face. Its liquid eye squirmed inside of the formless mass, and more tentacles tore through the ground, trying to flay the metal off of his hide.
Marmaloo blocked his path again, her wide mouth sucking him towards her corrosive, saliva-filled throat. Before he was pulled in, though, Chef Torte hacked a nearby vine expertly, sending it crashing over to crush the Octolot’s fragile body. White blood oozed from underneath the fleshy vine, permeating the earth. The Terrapin only winked and went back to fending off another massive limb.
“My life for yours,” he said, nodding in reluctant thanks. “Keep at it!”
Endless tentacles seemed to be bursting through the soil in all directions now, steadily but surely pushing the combatants to their breaking points. Only Admiral Bobbery was left unfettered, staring down into the black, slimy mouth of the demon. He knew what he had to do, even if his own survival was uncertain.
“Bottom’s up, beastie!” he yelled, winding himself up, fuse flaming furiously, and rolling into the creature’s head.
“Pull back, pull back!” Yoshi screamed, and they all slashed more feverishly at the vines, working their way towards the outer edge of the ruined grove.
There was a period of absolute stillness, followed by a deafening roar as the heart of the demon exploded in massive chunks of bulging entrails and thick fluids. The remainder of the vines ripped off wildly and soared through the forest, many of them slicing down towering trees in the process. Only a mound of grisly flesh and meat was left at the center of the madness, and there was no sign of the Bob-omb.
“Bobbery,” Ryanoshi said, a small whisper, still shocked by the events of the battle. “He had to make it!”
Even as the heavy weight of despair washed over them, Admiral Bobbery’s small feet appeared waggling out of a pile of sludge. Frantic, the other three heroes dug him out and cleaned him off, listening to his grumbling the entire time.
“Dreadful quick of you, I see,” he said in frustration, but it only elicited their grateful laughter. “Go ahead, chuckle it up.”
“We’re truly glad to see you alive, friend,” said Ryanoshi, patting the Bob-omb on the back. “Sorry about that, but we’re all sort of shocked.”
Chef Torte gave a smirk, but it soon formed into a grin at the sight of the stumpy admiral covered in gore. “Vell, I guess zis evens us out. Sorry about zat, Yoshi. Didn’t realize how serious zings vere, I suppose.”
“We’ll forgive you too, then,” said Yoshi, still overcome by the rush of victory. “We were wrong to detain you, anyway. Just a bit of a bar fight and a tactless mouth. You can depart after we leave the forest, if you want.”
“And not be zere ven you all screw up again?” asked the Terrapin, almost completely serious. “I zink not!”
“Well, now that that’s settled,” said Bobbery, spitting out a few stray bits of gunk, “let’s head on to Tadpole Pond. I believe Ryanoshi was wanting to parley with Frogfucious.”
“Yes, that’s correct,” said Ryanoshi, suddenly sober again. His own silence troubled his friends, but he tried to reassure them with an uneasy smile. “Come on, then. It’ll be night soon, and we’ll have a hard time getting in after dark.”