By Mario Fan
Chapter Three: The Flooding
I remember as a young child watching the drowning of the non-believers—how they shouted as they were let up for a brief gasp of air between being roughly shaken by the executioners and forced back under the acidic pools again. “Why are they screaming?” I asked my father, who had accompanied me on this, my first journey to the dungeons of the Barrel Volcano. “All those cleansed by the sulphur pools shout in anguish, my son, for they are justly punished.”
1.
The monster Jinx shielded his eyes from the rising sun, patiently watching the shadows drift lazily across the red and blue rooftops below. He was sitting utterly motionless atop a mound of grassy earth looming over a steep drop-off towards Seaside Town, the Mushroom Kingdom’s premiere ocean port and trading center. Unfortunately, his estimation for arrival in the city was far off the mark, as they were still a fair hour’s descent from checking in at the gated entrance.
After confirming the complete appearance of the morning rays, Jinx leapt silently from his rough perch and crept beside his sleeping companion. He gently shook the Goomba awake and walked off to gather their supplies. “Sorry to rouse you so early, Keb, but every moment we lose puts the thieves that much farther ahead of us. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to follow their tracks over Star Hill, which is most likely where they went from Seaside Town.” Jinx’s eyes widened suddenly, as if realizing something for the first time. “Unless...”
“Unless what, Sensei Jinx?” asked the young Goomba. “What is it?”
“If one of the thieves was able to read the contents of the scroll he stole, however impossible that may seem, he would take to the seas. It would be the quickest route to Kooparian and, from there, Ice Land.” The monster’s voice lowered to a disappointed whisper. “Why did I not consider this before?”
“Ice Land!” shouted Keb incredulously. “I thought that place only existed in novels and children’s storybooks. That’s what Pop always said, at least.”
“Your father,” said Jinx, “slaved under the cruel regime of King Bowser and thus most likely attempted to hide the existence of Kooparian from you, in which, ironically, are rested the majority of the Koopa Kingdom’s armies. A judicious move for an ex-soldier not mentally capable of dealing with his troublesome past. He hoped to hide the truth from you for awhile, I suppose, and then perhaps tell you when you were older and more able to deal with the reality.”
“Man, I should have known, the way he never ordered any foreign maps or sent me to public schooling. King Bowser ruined his young life, that creep! He can’t reign forever, though. We’ll stop him someday.”
Jinx nodded respectfully. “As long as we are determined in our struggle against his evil, then, yes, we shall eventually succeed. We must move carefully, though, for if this thief did comprehend the contents of that scroll and is on his way there, then Bowser is the least of our worries.”
“That’s almost hard to imagine,” said Keb. “What exactly is in Ice Land that they’d be going after, anyway?”
“Even I am not completely sure,” said Jinx. “I know it is something lending great power to whomever finds it. So much power, in fact, that it could decide the course of our future, based on the nature of the person who obtains it. And I say ‘it’, mind you, without knowing whether it is a simple, tangible thing, a group of emblems, or even a separate spiritual entity. None of this is known to me, as the language of the elders was long ago lost in the sands of time. I was only able to pick out bits and pieces, especially the more adamant warnings, which were mostly made out of syllables and stresses not too altered over the many years since their composition.”
“So, we’re going after criminals that we most likely will not be able to catch up with for the purpose of stopping something we don’t know of and that may not even exist?”
The smaller monster laughed appreciatively. “Why, yes, it does sound rather hopeless, doesn’t it? I only do what I feel guided to by the Stars, young Keb- what seems to be aligned with the universal peace. If nothing else comes out of this but a few less coins, then I shall have enjoyed the journey.”
“Yeah, and no matter what the cause, I’m itching to get out of this place,” said Keb eagerly. He looked to where the trail started winding down the hill they were on, leading towards the city below. “If we do find out they took to the sea, will we follow them, regardless?”
Jinx tilted his head affirmatively. They both climbed carefully down the hillside, not speaking any further words to each other until they reached the bottom. It was a brisk, only slightly taxing exercise to find trustworthy foot and hand holdings in the dirt face, and there were several firm weeds and branches when those failed to appear. All in all, it cost them an hour to land safely on level ground and approach the magnificently ornamented portcullis of Seaside Town’s primary ingress.
“Odd,” said Jinx as Keb stared in amazement at the high iron spikes and watchtower above. “There must have been a notable occurrence during the night, since it is usually opened by now. Keeping the gates closed after dawn is a brilliant measure to keep culprits from leaving the city.”
“Will they let us in, then?” asked Keb. “I don’t see anybody up there.”
Jinx walked calmly over to a bell hung by the end of a rotting rope and gave it several tugs. Stepping back beside Keb, he waited and said nothing until a wooden shutter carved out of the front of the guardhouse slammed open. A grimy Mushroomer’s repulsive head peeked out, one eye covered by a tattered, black patch.
“Who is this? A Goomba brat and foreigner?” the man called down to them. “The mayor has ordered we keep any and all visitors out of the city until such time as he deems it safe for the citizens of Seaside Town. You’ll have to wait in the field yonder. There’s plenty of berries and apples for ya to make a nice breakfast. Well, get on out of here!”
Keb readied himself to shout back a challenge, but Jinx silenced him with an admonitory glance and met the gaze of the guard. “We thank you for the offer, sir. Have you heard any news of when the city may be reopened?”
The man spat disgustedly before them and ducked back into the tower, shutting the splintered shutter without so much as an obscenity.
“So much for a courteous welcome,” said Keb and sighed. “What are we going to do now?”
“We definitely shall not be hindered by a drunken guard. There is always a way to bypass the blockades, and it should be all the easier with the lax soldiers they have working for them. They’re only sailors on leave, too interested in sleeping off their remaining days on the shoreline to worry about us.”
“Sounds great,” Keb grinned. “I’m right behind you.”
It took a surprisingly brief portion of time for the pair to find a loose block of wood in the surrounding wall and even less of their attentions for Jinx to knock it completely out. Both had little trouble sliding through, and when they dropped into the other side, they found themselves behind a large building emitting meat-scented smoke from its two massive chimneys. No person was to be seen, thankfully, but they could hear numerous and varied voices shouting from within and several calmer tones issuing from the streets and dirt walkways beyond.
“Coincidentally fortunate for us,” mumbled Jinx. “Keb, listen up. The building before us is the Black Urchin, the seediest bar in Seaside Town. It’s a rough crowd, so stay near me.”
“Er, why are we even going in?” asked Keb, not exactly assured of the wisdom in the decision. “I thought-”
“There are two Port Masters elected each year, with one preceding the other from day to day in their duties. The one in office yesterday, who would have been the one to handle our thieves’ departure, assuming it was even made, is the gentleman we shall wish to speak with. Additionally, the nature of the Black Urchin works brilliantly in conjunction with that of the Port Master, so that the two men usually spend their days and nights here, whether or not they are currently active.”
“Ah,” said Keb, who had predictably stopped listening midway through Jinx’s explanation. “Stay with you, right?”
Jinx did not halt to answer, and without another word, they brushed into the soiled, rum swirled scent of the air among boisterous shouting and flailing, inebriated Mushroomers. Keb danced around to avoid being stepped on, and the two companions eventually made it to stools hugging the service bar. The older of the two foreigners gave a stern glare in the direction of the barkeeper, an oafish, muscular Mushroomer who slumped over towards them with one hand scrubbing a torn washcloth in a glass.
“What can I do you gents for?” he asked lugubriously.
“We would appreciate your telling us where yesterday’s Port Master is. I should very much like to speak with him.”
“Oh, yeah?” asked the heavyset man, sizing Jinx up with his one good eye. “Who’s the kid?”
“He is with me, and that is all you need to know,” Jinx said simply. “Now, where is the Port Master?”
“I’d love to help you wee ones out,” said the bartender apathetically, “but first you have to help me out. That’s the way it works.”
“Fine, then,” said Jinx, bringing up a hand. “We’ll have two glasses of warm cider. No rum in the Goomba’s cup, will you?”
“Whatever you say, sir. As long a we understand each other.”
The Mushroomer lumbered over to mix the drinks and came back with two sparkling glasses of the sour beverage. He passed them out and propped his elbows on the bar. “Now, then, what about the Port Master?”
“We need to speak with him about a departure yesterday,” said Jinx, sipping his cider. “Do you know where we can find him?”
“That’s him, yeah,” said the barkeeper, pointing a thick finger at a table of prim-coated Mushroomers sitting around and laughing heartily. “The one with the gold buttons. What a Cobrat!”
Jinx turned to Keb and said lowly, “Wait outside.”
“But-”
“Just do it, Keb. I’ll be out shortly with the list.”
The cloaked monster made his way quietly over to the roundabout of aristocratic gentlemen and hopped upon the table without so much as a flourishing of his cape. “Port Master,” he said to the Mushroomer with the gilded buttons, “I need the departure information for yesterday’s business. I’m willing to pay, as well.”
Jinx threw a pouch tied with a thin rope before the man, and it clinked with coins as it smacked against the rotting wood. The Port Master snatched the satchel up and laughed uncontrollably. “What a jest! Get out of here, wimp, before we mess your hair up. That is, as if it could be any uglier.”
“I am not a patient monster, sir,” said Jinx civilly. “Fair warning, it would be in your best interest to take me seriously.”
Two weather-beaten, strong-armed Mushroomers rose from the table and shot out at the smaller man standing up. Jinx quickly looked at each one and leaped into the air, allowing the two brutes to crash into each other. Without so much as a single sound, the diminutive warrior brought down his fists and smashed both Mushroomers through the wood into unconsciousness. Smoothing his bright green hair back purposefully, he then clutched the shocked Port Master by the neck. “I want that list, now!”
Keb looked oddly as three Mushroomers, battered and bruised, ran out of the Black Urchin and down an adjoining street. Second to walk out was Jinx, who was carrying a large parchment under one shoulder. “Unfortunate news. An Armored Ant set sail yesterday with two companions of an unknown species, their only cargo an ancient, incomprehensible scroll, as the trading analysis reads. Our thieves could by now be a third of the way to Ice Land or more. If they somehow managed to find a Magic Flute, they could already be there. Only a Signal Ring or some other magical device would allow them to find one of the Sacred Transporters, though.”
“Are we going to rent a boat, then?” asked Keb excitedly, attempting poorly to show disappointment.
“Shockingly enough,” said Jinx with a smile, “the Port Master offered me one, no charge. It’s in Dock A, over in the second yard. We’ll just stop by the market place for a few items and be on our way.”
“Finally,” said Keb, “the adventure
begins. This is going to be great!”
2.
A few hours before the end of Chapter Two...
Genji T. was the first of Toad Town to notice the incoming tsunami, building constantly on itself and rolling relentlessly shoreward. He and his friend Roshi III lived by the Mushroom Harbor, where they could rest at the end of a long day and watch as the ships from distant lands came to anchor in the blue waters of the ocean. It was only by chance that he looked out on that rainy, thunder-filled evening to the wide expanse of sea beyond his window and witnessed the horrible reality of the storm.
As hastily as he could, the warrior Mushroomer waked his Yoshi housemate and informed him of the situation. After a bit of convincing, Roshi finally warded off any remaining drowsiness, and the pair quickly put on what clothes were necessary to rouse the mayor and hopefully save the town.
Genji opened their front door and stepped out into the deafening rainfall. “By the looks of that wave, we’ve got about two hours before it hits mainland,” the Mushroomer shouted over the cacophony of thunder claps and furious wind. “We won’t be able to reach Midas Hill, but we’ll at least be able to evacuate everyone into the vaulted caverns under the sewer. The water won’t rise there until everything else is flooded, so it’s probably our best bet.”
The nearby Yoshi nodded his head in agreement and shouted back in his typically high-pitched voice, “You should go ahead to the mayor’s house, Genji. I’ll run over to Koopa Village, since they’ll be in line of the flood, too, and call them over here.”
The red-vested Mushroomer grasped one of Roshi’s hands in his and shook it solemnly. “Just be careful, ok? Come back safely, and rescue every last one of those Koopas, or I’ll never forgive you for it.”
Genji watched silently as his most loyal friend on all of Plit disappeared into the darkness of the night. After he could no longer see the diminishing blur of white and crimson, the Mushroomer made his way to the mayor’s house and walked in, as in a town of such peaceful prospects locked doors were not even considered.
“Mayor Upton! Upton, sir, it’s Genji!” the young Mushroomer called up a dimly lit stairway. There was a feminine shriek followed by a crash of some glass and wood. The mayor hopped out of one of the second-story rooms, simultaneously trying to make his way downstairs and pull up his formal pants over his pajamas.
“What’s the meaning of all this ruckus?” asked the middle-aged man, his mustache furling in frustration. “The wife and I were just drifting off, and you come in a-sceaming like you’ve seen a Boo.”
“It’s much worse than that, Mr. Mayor,” said Genji breathlessly. “A huge tsunami is heading straight for here and the Mushroom Village. I don’t know where it came from, but it looks like it’s going to completely flood us out! Our only chance is to make it to the vaulted caverns before it hits.”
“This storm was not formed by any natural means,” said The Master from behind them both. Genji whirled around, shocked at the old Mushroomer’s sudden appearance. “A tsunami of that magnitude is impossible, or at least in this portion of Plit. Something or someone made it with dark magic. Powerful magic, too. Even Kamek would have to spend months conjuring the energy for a spell that potent, and I doubt any Magikoopa from Bowser’s Castle would want to flood his own home, anyway.”
“I don’t doubt your qualifications, Master Toad, but this all sounds preposterous! Let’s calm down before we lose our heads and think this through rationally.”
“We don’t have time for that,” interjected Genji. “My pal Roshi already went to fetch the citizens of Koopa Village. It’s up to us to rouse the town and lead everyone into the caverns as quickly as possible.”
“Genji T. is right, I’m afraid,” said The Master calmly. He tapped his cane twice on the hardwood floor of the mayor’s house. “Hack! Cough! Hack! Our window of opportunity is waning even as we speak.”
“Fine, then,” the mayor said reluctantly. “But let’s do this in an orderly fashion, at least. I don’t want a bunch of mobs running over each other to get down there. Master, perhaps you should go to the shed and prepare the pipe to receive our good citizens. Genji, you come with me and help wake everyone up. Oh, yeah, and we’ll have to send Parakarry over to warn the Mushroom Village.” He turned back up the stairs. “Sweetums, we’re leaving! Let’s move out!”
The Master slowly made his way to the green-and-white striped awning of the access shed beside Tayce T’s restaurant and fumbled around in his robe for the keys to the entrance. As he triumphantly yanked them out and held them up to pick out the right one, a loud, grating scream filled the air above him. He looked up to see an abnormally large blackbird perched on the pinnacle of the shed’s triangular roof.
“Shoo! Fly away, beast of omen!” The Master shouted, but the bird only glared at him. After an awkward staring bout, the avian took to the air and flew off, unafraid of the increasingly brilliant flashes of lightning overhead. “What an odd little fellow.”
He waited inside for well over an hour, anxiously counting the moments tick by and trying in vain to figure out who could have caused the storm. Finally, just as the water was beginning to brush across the white pebble stone walkways outside, droves of Mushroomers and Koopas began to pour in.
Several were crying and holding onto
their families, and many of the children were clutching stuffed Goombas
and other toys. The last to drop down into the sewer complex of Toad Town
were The Master, Mayor Upton, Genji, and Roshi. They waited out the storm
with the other citizens in blackness and fear of death, hearing only the
mighty roar as the water consumed their homes.
3.
Luigi awoke to the sounds of heavy rain pelting thick forest leaves and branches and the deeper, rushing voice of incoming water somewhere to the east. His vision was incredibly blurry and splotched with liquid pseudo-spheres of refracted moonlight, and only by feeling around and concluding that he was high up in a tree did he avoid tumbling out. The last thing he remembered, he had been near drowning in the rapidly flooding ground behind the Mushroom Village Hotel, and so when he finally did regain most of his sight, the plumber immediately began piecing out what had happened.
Fortunately for his already addled brain, a furiously moving figure wading through the saturated forest floor jogged his memory. It was the mind-bendingly agile Kanaye, and Luigi thought he knew who the menacing Ninja was searching for. What really plagued his thinking, though, was how the perceptive character had lost him after he had collapsed into unconsciousness.
“Do not scream, Luigi Mario,” came a reptilian voice from behind him. A scaly, nimble creature swung from a branch above down beside him, its brown-green color dulled by the night and intermittent flashes of lightning. “My name is Rezan, a Reznoth from a faraway land. I saved you from the clutches of that warrior. Speak confidently; he cannot hear us over the thunder and the precipitation.”
“You were the one whose footprints my brother found at the opening of the Autumn Festival,” Luigi surmised, too shocked and shaken by the past few hours to react violently. “How do you know me, or us, I suppose?”
The Reznoth’s red-forked tongue darted out quickly, tasting the air before retracting into a curved, lipless mouth. He motioned to the ground below, bringing one clawed finger across his face in a quieting gesture. There was a rapid burst of sparking electricity and lightning, and then Rezan was gone, apparently vanished from his former resting place on the thick branch. Luigi tried his best not to move.
He blinked his eyes once, twice, and upon opening them the third time Kanaye stood before him, approaching on noiseless feet among silent flashes of static discharge. Luigi shot up and grappled against the trunk of the tree behind him, attempting to gain a more certain footing. Just as the drowsy man was able to retain some semblance of readiness, he caught the Ninja’s silver scythe at the edge of his field of view. It was glistening brilliantly with the sound of rustling leaves, and as it came whistling diagonally towards his chest, the plumber felt oddly lulled by its power.
Rezan interceded at the last possible moment, though, wordlessly blocking the strike with the dry, bony wrists of both arms and whirling around to plow his weighty tail into the Ninja’s abdomen. He had fallen between them without sound and was now calmly, almost dreamily pounding the hard cap of his right elbow into Kanaye’s empty chest. With a guttering release of air, the Ninja stumbled and then toppled with a splash into the water below.
“We must flee!” hissed Rezan, a wide, bleeding gash across one arm. “If I meet him right out, he will defeat me. Come on! The trees are close, but the ocean is rising more swiftly than I expected.”
Luigi hesitantly let the Reznoth grab his arm and lead him to the end of the branch, jumping, and onto another one. “He still managed to cut you! How is he that fast? I couldn’t even see the movement.”
“As products of Smithy the Destroyer, the Ninjas were partly composed of mechanical enhancements. Hydraulic pumps and sound buffers allow them to act and react with unnatural speed. Even their uniforms are made of a material highly reactionary and uniform in varying degrees of light and darkness.”
Luigi stared up at him, amazed for a few moments. They had meanwhile traversed several treetops, and the Reznoth was still periodically looking behind them, as if expecting Kanaye to be a few feet within striking distance. “You’ll of course have to explain to me later how you know all that. The... Reznoth did you say, must have had a run-in with the Smithy Gang, but that doesn’t account for how you survived them. If we hadn’t infiltrated his factory and destroyed him before he could accumulate an army, the entire Mushroom Kingdom would be covered in chrome death by now.”
Rezan looked back impatiently, his lidless eyes wavering under an assailment of stinging rain. “Yes, perhaps later there will be time for that. Time for everything, later. Much later.”
“You speak as if you have many secrets,” said Luigi, trying admirably to match the reptile’s odd way of speaking while avoiding slipping on the slimy branches and clusters of twigs. “Something bad has happened, hasn’t it? This storm, this flood- all of it was contrived?”
“Truthfully, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. It’s all beyond me, but, somehow, it’s clear, too,” said Rezan, halting only for a moment to judge the length of their next leap and then taking it. “I am moved by forces beyond me, I think. We must wait until the next play is made. Until then, there is only survival.”
“You’ll excuse me if I say that sounds trite,” Luigi muttered thanklessly. “But you do pull it off nicely. Additionally, I’d rather stick with you than face that Ninja alone, so you’ve lucked out.”
“That is all I ask, then,” said Rezan without any discernible emotion. “About your brother Mario. Will he be able to make it safely out of the city?”
“The city!” exclaimed Luigi, horror washing pale over his expression. “All those Mushroomers, drowned... They’ll never know what hit them, and neither will Mario. What are they going to do?”
“These things have a habit of working out more pleasantly than you would expect. As I said earlier, to survive is our goal right now. We can’t do anything for them but hope to the Stars that life awaits them at the break of dawn.”
“The Stars or my friends?” asked Luigi, not entirely thoughtful of his words.
Rezan glanced again behind him, momentarily speechless. “And to think that I doubted you hold good and evil equally in both hands. The wonder inherent in those words!”
A portion of the thinning branch several paces out splintered in every direction, and through the gaping hole flipped and alighted Kanaye, cloak ruffled with two bare, silvering sabers crossed purposefully before his veiled face. “You two have threatened the balance of power long enough. Meet eternity with honor!”
“We make our stand now, for benefit or otherwise,” said Luigi, receiving an affirmative nod from his companion. “Ok, Kanaye, we’ll accept your challenge, but you’ll have to work for Vermik’s prize. We’re pushing through!”
The Reznoth roared and leapt from his point of rest, claws outstretched and gripping a bizarre pistol. Luigi reacted separately, isolating his environment and building a pair of blazing emerald fireballs. Globular, purple blobs of pasty energy exploded from the barrel of Rezan’s gun and plastered against the heavy bough just before Kanaye hopped away, each time moving more quickly than the blasts. Without a suitable target, the masses of acidic jelly consumed the wood of the branch, dropping large sections of the trio’s instable platform into the violent, thrashing flood below.
“Interesting weapon,” whispered the Ninja while dodging multiple attacks. “Reducing the enemy’s range of action is a reputable ploy, but it will bring you no victory. Watch and learn, reptile!”
Kanaye spun skillfully past two fiery orbs, vaulting over Luigi and planting a crane kick squarely in Rezan’s chest. The plumber, wheeling around, rammed heavily into the Ninja’s back, sending them both crashing hard into the thick bark of the tree. Recovering the function of his lungs, Rezan swept his tail under the Ninja’s legs, toppling him, and Luigi fell with both knees onto Kanaye’s neck—or what would have been his neck.
The Ninja countered with a sideward roll and whipcracked the length of his body upward until he came to his feet, whirling around and slamming a round kick into Luigi. The plumber was sent flying past Rezan, who had recovered his weapon and was now firing off several ear-splitting rounds, hoping to score at least one point of contact. Smithy’s hybrid proved the faster, however, leaping up and over Rezan’s head, the purple globs of adhesive energy trailing his blurred body. Sneering, he promptly shoved Luigi’s limp body into the rolling river below them, staring up with a challenge of wills at the reptile, gun cocked and steaming.
“You have betrayed your objective, foreigner, and so now you must deal with the consequences,” said Kanaye solemnly. “May you both perish.”
“This is not over, abomination!” screamed Rezan. “There are forces in action now that you cannot possibly comprehend. Your king is nothing.”
With that, the sleek Reznoth dived into the water after Luigi, quickly disappearing from sight. Kanaye peered over the edge, searching the clumps of high boulders and anchored limbs and seeing nothing of importance. He had let his anger at being taken by surprise get the better of him. That was not an option. Not now. Not when so many things depended on his complete obedience.
Shoving his unused sabers bitterly into their sheaths, the Ninja steadily bounded up several levels of branched foliage, eventually reaching open air. The rain was growing sparser now, but the lightning raged ever as forcefully, and the flood itself had developed with devastating swiftness. He thought about the impending destruction of the Mushroom Village, so coincidental with King Bowser’s will, but also ominous when considering the words of the reptilian creature he had just encountered. What did it all mean?
Vermik and another more wizened Magikoopa appeared above him on floating brooms. Kanaye studied the appearance of the latter, but there was something intangibly hidden and full of tainted shadow, something not allowing for any accurate interpretation. “A friend of yours, Guildmaster?”
“Perhaps,” said Vermik, nervously peering at the flood ravaging beneath them. “We shall learn his story soon enough. First, though, do you have Luigi? By the distance from the inn we have found you, I am doubtful.”
“And rightly so,” said Kanaye. “A creature I have never seen before, incredibly lithe and intelligent, has joined with him. In order to defeat the one, I had to drown the other. It is unlikely that either of them will survive.”
The starry, black-cloaked Magikoopa remained silent. Vermik looked back to him expectantly and shifted on his broom. “Very well. This miraculous flood will be the cause of our enemy’s downfall, regardless. There is a celebration and many questions to be addressed back at the castle. Come aboard, Kanaye; we ride!”
“Yes, Guildmaster,” said the Ninja and
suddenly was behind Vermik on the flying contraption. All three of them
sped off into the dieing rain and wind, one brooding, one boiling, and
the other suitably watchful.
In the meanwhile, Rezan was tossed
about by the flooding waters, bracketed as sound waves against projecting
rocks and hurled carelessly again to smack onto the surface of the water
and drift downstream, following the inevitable current. Finally, and without
any insistence of his own, he caught up with Luigi and gripped him around
the waist, pulling the human close and looking for something to climb onto.
He found that something in a jutting isthmus, just barely thrusting out
of the water’s surface. With every bit of strength left in him, Rezan lifted
both of their weights jaggedly across the strip of land and lay there for
awhile, only daring to move when the mud and the rainwater mixed and sloshed
beneath them.
He flipped the plumber over and forced
the excess water out of his lungs until he coughed and sputtered, taking
greedy gasps of air. They both rose, weakened and battered, and hobbled
over the high ground and upward, continuously traveling until their weary
legs gave no more support and buckled. The flood raged on at the foot of
the hill, fully fed and continuing into the lowlands, where the Mushroom
Village waited in its unsuspecting valley.
4.
Mario and the Princess Toadstool dashed anxiously across the intricate stone walkways that pervaded the Mushroom Kingdom, haphazardly leaping over rows of hedging and irrigation ditches as they came to them. Second-story window lights and candles burning brightly between wind-ruffled curtains blew out as they passed, and everything grew even darker as a shield of menacing twilight clouds covered the face of the full moon and many of the countryside’s glistening stars. As Peach glided beside Mario with her longer legs and more lissome body, she captured his attention with a hand wave and nodded to a blurry haze of moisture at the edge of town.
The plumber briefly frowned in acknowledgement. A storm had formed over their city, seemingly out of the clear sky and horizon, and was rapidly increasing in strength. Soon they and Luigi, wherever he was, would be drenched, and any prospective rescue mission would prove all the more difficult. Neither of them had to remind the other that time was more of the essence now than before, so they doubled their speed, covering the ground at a harrowing pace until a winged silhouette in the middle of the pathway stopped them dead in their tracks.
“Parakarry!” Peach shouted breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”
“There’s trouble in Toad Town and soon to be here, as well,” said the Parakoopa, equally winded. “A giant tsunami, large enough to flood the entire village, is fast approaching the mainland. All of my friends and family have already evacuated to the sewer network that leads into the underground caverns, but the only hope for the folks here is to make it to the top of Midas Hill. We have to rouse everyone and hurry for the high ground!”
“I would normally think you crazy,” said Mario carefully, “but this all fits together, in a way. The rumors of a flood Luigi was fretting over, Russ T’s double, the sudden appearance of a storm- this isn’t natural, and I’m sure whoever is behind all the other stuff is directing this, too. He must be one powerful son of a Goomba!”
“Assuming it’s even a person,” said the princess in her usual calm and diplomatic tone. “The strength of it is more indicative of a machine or some madman’s invention. Even Kamek doesn’t have the command over dark magic to summon such a catastrophe as this.”
“Whatever it is, we sure as Stars don’t have the time to stand around here and discuss it in a committee,” said Parakarry. “Let’s get a move on! I’ll start at the north end of town; my wings will carry me there faster. You all wake everyone up down here.”
“Right,” said Peach, realizing the immediacy of Parakarry’s claim. “Just tell them it has something to do with Bowser. They’ll be used to an invasion threat... as used to it as they’re going to get, anyway. Mario, you handle the south and find Luigi. Any guards you all encounter on the way, enlist their aid. I’ll do the same in the east and west portions of the city. Now, let’s move out!”
Mario wasted no time in barreling toward the south end of the Mushroom Kingdom, barging into homes and shops alike and waking the inhabitants. In no time at all, swarms of drowsy, confused citizens littered the street, shouting and covering their ears and attempting to find shelter from out of the intensely falling rain. The lone human, however, was even more frantic, leaving the citizens in the hands of informed guards and brushing through, plowing into the forest frenetically and searching for his brother.
“Luigi!” he shouted, surrounded by thick tree trunks, a dense, stretching canopy overhead, the lone shrieks of prey scurrying across the ground, and owls hooting ponderously from their perches. “Luigi!” he screamed louder, running around, training his eyes to pierce the veil of darkness.
Trickles of water and tributaries feeding the meager trills slid over his pant cuffs and the bottoms of his shoes, and he could hear the faint hissing of a reptile and the rustle of autumn leaves. Upon the wind were the low tones of a human voice and a whispering menace, but it could all have been a hallucination, a meaningless vision imposed on his fitful senses. He could not trust anything now, not when everything was so overwhelmingly hectic. “I have to believe in him,” Mario said quietly, backing away from the now rushing and bubbling river rising up to his calves.
“Luigi, you have to go it alone this time. Good luck to you, my brother.” He rushed back up the hill into the city, wiping a bit of moisture from his face, but the water was closing fast behind him, and the Mushroomers were barely organized. It was a race, now, for survival, and they were already hopelessly behind.
Meanwhile, Peach had commanded a formidable platoon of Mushroom soldiers to round every citizen in the city up at the base of the adjoining hill. From there, they would be able to begin their long march to the summit of Midas Hill. Presently, though, Princess Toadstool was convening with the disorderly Senate, as all five of the other members desired a quick explanation for the ensuing chaos.
Toadsworth and the Chancellor walked patiently to either side of the princess after she had finished her brief and exasperated presentation. Suitably convinced by the ferocity of her report and the intensity of the storm, the other three members fanned out to collect what valuables they could before the flood washed over their homes. The younger of her two most senior advisors rapped his cane fiercely as he hobbled along the slick pathway.
“You did well, Princess, in getting the news out quickly,” mumbled Toadsworth. “Hopefully, there will be a minimum amount of causalities after all this madness. We must make certain you are the first to reach higher ground, though, my lady. The citizens will look to your surety and calmness once they reach the summit.”
“It would not be prudent at this stage to abandon my people,” Peach said sternly. “You and the Chancellor, however, should leave right away, along with the others who are not physically able to assist in the evacuation. I’m still young, yet, and I do not plan to waste my youth in pushing ahead of everyone else. I shall be staying until the last, and that’s final.”
Toadsworth gasped helplessly and looked over to the Chancellor. “Please, sir, you, so wise and so experienced, must speak reason with her. She might die if she remains here until the flood arrives!”
“Perhaps,” the Chancellor spoke with the utmost civility. “Our dear princess is quite capable of directing her faculties towards their most useful purposes, though, so I support her decision.” He gently lifted her hand and respectfully touched it with his lips. “May the Stars shine down favorably upon you, Princess Toadstool, as they have done in the past.”
“With your blessing, I am at least assured of that,” she said kindly. “Thank you, Chancellor, and Toadsworth, do not worry. I’ll be fine. I promise you I’ll make it up there alive.”
“The good word of the princess is all I need,” said Toadsworth, bowing humbly. “Let us hasten westward, Chancellor. We must not hinder these young folks’ hour of heroics. Our days are past, when it comes to that, eh?”
“Sadly so,” said the Chancellor.
Peach watched them go, wondering if she would be able to keep her promise. Then, she thought grimly, a dead woman was not all that capable of lying. Not liking the sound of that at all, she headed off in the direction of the nearest unlit house in the city, a sign that the inhabitants had not yet been stirred from their beds.
Beating his wings triumphantly in the rainy, windswept air, Parakarry zoomed low to the ground, shouting encouraging words to the massive amounts of Mushroomers, Koopas, and other citizens marching tiredly below. “Just a bit farther!” he chortled, zigzagging over the stretching crowd. “Don’t give up hope! We’ll make it yet!”
Circumstances were not all that fortunate, though, the Parakoopa realized as he tilted his head around and saw the rising level of water in a valley below. Even more collected precipitation would be coming from the other side of the city, rampaging in from the higher grounds of the Mushroom Way and dooming anyone left behind to a saturated grave.
It was not good enough to simply estimate the incoming danger, though. He had to fly into the storm, to try to measure more closely how much time they had left. Gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes against the biting tempest, Parakarry spun around and dashed off towards the broiling black clouds behind him. Lightning and sharp-cracking thunder exploded around his tossed and beaten body, their brilliant flashes igniting the sky and sending showers of sparks from the high-level friction pouring down through densely packed dampness. It was simultaneously the most frightening and wondrous natural event he had ever witnessed. Then again, no one was exactly sure just how natural it really was.
The flood, he noted, would be coming sooner than everyone had reckoned. Something bizarre was happening with the potency of the storm as it neared the city, as if it had suppressed its true strength for the complete annihilation of the Mushroom Kingdom. The frequency and concentration of the rainfall was quickening now, pouring out oceans, it seemed, of deadly water and wind to the earthen floor. Not only that, Parakarry thought, but there was something else approaching from the northeast, as well. They appeared to be two speedy silhouettes, intermittently fading from existence in corroboration with the blinding thunderbolts.
“It can’t be,” the Parakoopa stuttered, halting in midair and floating slowly backward. “I’ve got to get out of here before they see me!”
Before he could gather what senses were left to him and zoom away, however, two drifting brooms were before him. Thereupon were seated two Magikoopas, both cloaked in black, with one glowing celestially, and with the former having a Ninja riding silently behind him. The unrecognizable sorcerer’s glasses roared and flickered with an abominable flame, mesmerizing the terrified winged Koopa.
“Vermik!” he shouted in disbelief. “I have no business with you. Let me pass!”
“The storm holds no fortune for you, Parakarry!” shouted back the infamous villain. “Oh, yes, I remember how you helped Mario defeat our king during the War of the Star Rod. We may have lost your heroes, but Bowser will be satisfied with a drowned nation and a victim for his torture mechanisms. Kanaye, seize him!”
Parakarry looked at the two unknown figures, waiting for one of them to move, but the Ninja had already leapt away and landed roughly on his shell. “Aggh! Get off of me, you creep!”
The shadowed, coldly efficient warrior stabbed a thin needle into the base of the Parakoopa’s neck, and he felt himself fall briefly. He looked up, barely sensing that he had been caught, and looked into the face of Vermik. The Ninja had come to rest emotionlessly behind the other Magikoopa, dividing the burden of the brooms.
“What fun we shall have back at the castle!” cackled Vermik, sending chills down the rapidly freezing spine of the drowsy Parakoopa. “Oh, look, your friends are going to die!”
Parakarry watched as the motionless Magikoopa with the flames licking his eyes nodded approvingly and squirmed about to peer in the direction of the figure’s chilling vision. The flood had crashed over the edge of the southeastern plateau and was consuming the Mushroom Village, splintering houses, shops, and barreling over crowds of screaming citizens. Only a few, he saw, who were already making their way up the hill, had a chance of surviving.
Oh no! he thought, increasingly losing touch with reality. What hope is left to us now?
Back near the city, Princess Toadstool whirled around as someone shouted, “Look!” A massive wave was plowing down the back ways and main avenues of the Mushroom Kingdom, engorging Mushroomers, Koopas, and countless other innocent villagers mercilessly. “Run! Flee the city!” she shouted, tripping and pulling herself up, dashing up the hillside with panicked citizens on the heel of their vast and darkened deaths.
“Mario!” she shouted and was slammed to the ground by a rough gust of wind. “Mario, where are you?”
A black raven was circling the air above them, its grating squawk carrying over the thunderous, sound-shattering roar of the approaching oscillations. “Fear! Fear!” it seemed to breathe into the very foundation of the earth and sky. Her sense of reality, her body and soul and everything that indicated existence and hope and absolution were severed, completely blurred and struck into the remotest corner of oblivion. “FEAR!”
The water consumed them.
5.
It was in the late hours of the morning when Vermik, Kanaye, and Zarith reached the jagged towers of the Castle Koopa. The Mushroom Valley below had been completely flooded, with its village saturated beyond repair and the grand majority of its people presumably drowned. Bowser, teeth gleaming, was waiting for them, along with Kamek. “I suppose, Kamek, that my vision decided to care for itself. We have won! They are dead!”
“Yes, sire, it is indeed a glorious day for your Kingdom,” said Kamek, his eyes glued to the third figure approaching them. “Have you noticed the orphaned pup Vermik has brought back? He’s wearing the garb of a Magikoopa.”
“So he is,” said Bowser, his voice grave again. “One of the cult leaders?”
“Impossible,” spat Kamek. “Kammy and I slaughtered any dissenters long ago at the source of our old operations. There are no more Magikoopas but who work under your crown, My Lord.”
“So, Vermik, I see you have brought back two prizes! I recognize the despicable Parakarry,” he gestured to the limp form of the renowned hero, “but who is the one still standing?”
The Magikoopa turned slyly to the figure under question. “I was hoping, Zarith, that you would answer that yourself.”
Predictable to the last, thought Zarith. Just as I reckoned, he brought me here to where I am outnumbered. That Kamek is extraordinarily strong, as is one other I can sense... somewhere around here. I shall be able to defeat them, but I cannot cause a stir just yet. My master will be displeased, and I am not sure if he has learned what he wished to know. It seems that his heroes are already drowned, though. Could it be I was mistaken?
“My name is Zarith,” said the strange Magikoopa. “I learned the Dark Arts on an island I was exiled to for the sole reason of archiving them. Apparently, I was adept enough to learn them on my own. I came here after leaving and learning of the Koopa Kingdom’s haven for our kind.”
“Zarith, you say, is your name?” asked Kamek needlessly. “Odd, that was the appellation of the former Guildmaster Supreme who ruled before the fall of the Old Order. How did you choose your name, sorcerer?”
Fortunately, I am not completely lying, so it appears as if I am being relatively truthful, thought Zarith. He does not suspect my story is several centuries off the mark.
“It came to me in the meditative rigors of the Guildmaster conversion,” said Zarith. “Almost killed me, but I made it through.”
“Yes, you do have the power of a Guildmaster, from what I can tell,” said Kamek angrily. “This is very unsettling, Zarith. If I had known you had the skills of an Adept, I would have murdered you as a child. Bizarre that we were not able to discern your skills when we rebelled.”
“Regardless, I do not wish to cause trouble, and I would like to join your ranks,” said Zarith. “I am willing to pass any test.”
“Enough of this!” shouted Bowser, growing impatient. “Let us withdraw to my Throne Room. Zarith," he said, wincing at the name as if it caused him great pain, "consider yourself part of the Koopa Troop. Vermik will show you the ropes later. You, Kanaye, place Parakarry in the lowest dungeon level. The rest of you come with me. I have summoned the Table of Nobility, and we have much to discuss.”
“Indeed,” came a brusque feminine voice from behind them. “What is the meaning of this, Guildmaster Vermik?”
Admiral Jade and General Jagger stepped into view, while Defensive Advisor Inire waited patiently near the door into the East Tower. The latter of the first two continued the interrogation. “My Lord Bowser, we cannot allow this stranger into our midst. Surely, Guildmaster Supreme, you must agree?”
“Yes, I do,” said Kamek softly, eliciting a sharp growl from his subordinate. “No matter where you came from, Zarith, we have neither the interest nor the time for dealing with you.”
“Silence!” roared Bowser, snarling through the side of his snout at Kamek. His blood-shot eyes centered on the newcomer. “We might as well make this interesting. A test of his allegiance is in order, and I have just the thing. Since Kanaye and Vermik or so well acquainted with our guest, they will accompany him as co-commanders with three of the five legions of the Royal Vista Army.”
“Sir!” interjected Kamek, followed by the two presiding officers of the military and navy. “This is an outrage!”
“One more outburst from you three, and I shall have your hearts burst in my claws while you watch,” said the Koopa King quietly. “Now, then! Zarith, your orders are to march west across the Mushroom Kingdom, slaughtering all who do not swear subordination to the Koopa Kingdom and myself.”
“I feel this is my destiny,” said Zarith, bowing low. Vermik and Kanaye wordlessly followed suit. “Our race will once more reign supreme over this world.”
“You are dismissed,” said Bowser with a wave of his claw and watched them go. Only Kamek noticed the troubled gleam in the solid black-cloaked wizard’s eyes.
Grinning wickedly, the king then turned to the stunned advisors left behind him. “Do not act so shocked. He cannot abandon us and live while under the surveillance of both Vermik and Kanaye. Besides, we have more important matters to attend to.”
“How could anything be more significant than the final battle of our generation?” asked General Jagger. “I do not understand your decision!”
“Lord Bowser, I believe I know what you’re planning,” said Kamek carefully, “but is it not too soon?”
“No, the time is precisely right, in fact,” Bowser answered eagerly. “Admiral Jade, prepare the fleet.”
“All of it?” the Parakoopa managed to squeeze out.
“Yes, I want the Cerberus, Eviscerator, and my flagship readied before dawn of the coming day.”
“But, sir,” Jade stammered, “the Leviathan has not been tested. It may not be safe for flight or combat…”
“I trust to the engineers,” said Bowser, turning about and peering out over the flooded landscape with his hands wrapped around to the middle of his shell. “As Zarith said, it is a day of a destiny. We shall unite the Koopas once more under the land of Kooparian, and my rebellious children will fly proudly the flag of our people. With this done, all other races will be subjected or exterminated according to their will. Genocide is the punishment for all revolution. Terror will be our watchword, and blood will be the symbol of our campaign. Now, leave me to my solitude!”
Kamek stood silently still when the others left, looking on as Bowser knelt uneasily on the stone parapet and muttered a few shaky words of prayer. The low mumblings seemed to lift to the heavens above. Maybe he is right, thought the Magikoopa. Perhaps we are meant to cover Plit with our people. Could it be that at long last this war has come to an end?
He whirled about and headed towards the castle entrance. Something was drawing him nearer to an apex of the past few days’ chaos. Whatever was simmering had come to a violent boil, and he was sure a certain someone was awaiting him within.
~*~*~*~
Zarith and Kamek stood across from each other in a long, narrow hallway carpeted with crimson and gold-fringe and lit by the dull glow of several flickering torches. Both wizards had their wands at the ready, feet placed apart at the prime width for their size and position in the corridor.
“You disappoint me, Guildmaster Supreme,” said the foreign Magikoopa. His teeth were bared, fangs glistening and shadowed by the varying shades of light. “I know you wanted to rip out my lungs on the castle top. What hindered your desires? Was it my strength? Or perhaps something else?”
“So it is you,” said Kamek proudly, leaning back, his arms crossed deliberatively and attempting not to show the fear coursing through his veins. “I shall not ask how you were preserved all this time. I’m not that skeptical anymore.”
“You have sealed your doom already, mortal,” said Zarith, his voice suddenly deep and his eyes emitting dark, drowning flames. His entire body scintillated with raw energy, and the floor fissured with the quake of his presence. “What you have discovered is more profound than you can ever imagine. This is the day of destiny and for more than Bowser thinks.”
“I have no quarrel with you, and you know it, Zarith,” said Kamek softly, using all of his remaining influence to wield off perspiration. “Besides, a struggle with me would draw too much attention; our forces would tear the castle apart. For the benefit of both our causes, we must let each other go for now.”
“Practicality, then, is your choice,” said Zarith, releasing his power harmlessly into himself. “But I leave you with this admonition: do not attempt to comprehend my purpose. It will buy you death.”
As Zarith passed by, Kamek fell to his knees, grinding his teeth and sending out a piercing scream. His mind was cracking and sending waves of torment throughout his body and spirit. I must, he thought, gasping and gaining control of his nerves, sensing that Zarith had left, inform Kammy. We have to leave! We must flee now!
~*~*~*~
Kammy opened the door roughly and dragged her frazzled superior inside. “Stop your shouting! We’re all jaded on this floor. What is it?”
“Zarith was the one who caused the flood and the vision that Bowser had,” Kamek said quickly, his face fuming. “Our king recognizes him and so gave him the command! We cannot stop that degree of power!”
“What are you babbling about? How do you know?!” She sat him down, now intensely interested. “Speak!”
“I accosted him in the hallway and accused him of something else, which I thought to be true. He did not deny it. That monster even caught me offguard with a mental razing!”
“Not so difficult,” Kammy muttered.
“No, shrew, I’m not jesting with you!” he shouted back. “True, I am weak from a lack of rest, but he did it, nonetheless. He is more powerful than we know, and he gave me a warning. He is not after us, but another cause.”
“We shall have to confront him later tonight, then, if what you say is true,” said Kammy quietly, shutting the door to the hallway. “Vermik and Kanaye will be of use. They’ve spent the most time with him.”
“Don’t you understand?” yelled Kamek, visibly frustrated. “It is not as simple as that any longer. I know who is he now, Kammy. I remember his face, the patterns of his mind. He is utterly familiar to me!”
“What do you mean you recognize him?” asked Kammy. “Out with it, you blithering fool!”
Kamek grabbed the witch’s shoulders roughly and shook them. “Kammy, that Magikoopa who calls himself Zarith is not conceivable, not even possibly here. He is older than us, Kammy, and he died over five-hundred years ago! He is dead, I tell you, and yet walks among the living!”
There was a mind-shattering explosion somewhere to the far east of the castle. Rubble and broken stone rained down upon the roof, and they could both smell the searing heat of melting mortar. “A Bob-omb,” Kammy said. “We have to investigate.” She got up and headed for the door, but her companion was sitting motionlessly on the bed. “Kamek, come on.” He was mumbling a rough incantation and rocking back and forth. “Kamek?”
A second explosion rocked the castle’s walls, this one louder and closer.
“Kamek!”
6.
It started as a series of pains and lights, flashing brilliance that blared white hot beams of fire every time he attempted to open his eyes. He began to sense more, though, as time went on and especially grew weary of someone shouting in the distance. Each piercing exaltation was like a brass hammer beating his brain into a slimy piece of pottery.
“Master Torte! Master Torte!” the voice came, strident and ever closer. “Oh! Master Torte, it’s me! Oh, it’s me!”
“Stop your shouting, you little verm,” Chef Torte tried to call back, but his aching body was not quite up to producing the sound. “Uggh! Moi feels terrible. Don’t yell so loudly, I said.”
“Sorry,” the Apprentice dulled his voice to a soft whisper. “You took quite a bump on the head after falling off that cliff. You’ve been out for nearly two hours. Nothing much has happened, but a huge storm popped up in the valley on the other side. I was going to find some shelter, but, oddest thing, the clouds disappear once they pass over the boundaries of the Mushroom Village.”
“Yeah, zat’s a sad tale, but vhat about our difficulties?” asked Chef Torte, groaning and leaning up on his rump. “Ve are now stuck on zis mountain viz no vay to get down! Ooh, moi’s aching noggin’.”
“No, really,” said the Apprentice, growing more excitable by the minute. “It looks like the whole valley’s flooded, at least from where the Mushroom Village ends back to the sea. That’s the capital itself, the Mario Bros. house, Mushroom Way, Toad Town, Koopa Village, everything! We jetted out of there just in time, Master Torte.”
“You haf to be joking moi,” said the woozy Terrapin. He painfully hoisted himself off of the ground and looked around. The Apprentice must have dragged him back to the hilltop from wherever he fell. Cautiously, because his whole body was still sore from the tumble awhile back, Chef Torte peered over the edge of the cliff and into the Mushroom Valley. “Holy smokes! Zat’s an eye-openeir and no mistake.”
The majority of the rolling green plains and dotted cityscapes was half-submerged in glistening seawater. Such a tremendous flood had come swiftly in the night, the Terrapin supposed, and in the face of its silent devastation, Chef Torte was doubtful anyone had survived. “By ze stars, it’s like ze end of ze verld, only for zem.”
“You shouldn’t worry yourself over that, Master Torte,” said the Apprentice, smothering the remnants of the night’s fire. He watched the curl of smoggy gray smoke drift skyward like a Shaman interpreter and quickly shook whatever thoughts he was conjuring loose from his head. “I found a path that looks reliable while you were sleeping. We’d best start down.”
“You surprise moi,” said Chef Torte eerily. “Haf ze recent catastrophes matured you oveirnight? You’ve got to buck up, kiddo, because zey don’t mean a zhing to us. As far as moi ist concerned, ve should be saying good-riddance! Our little fiasco ist erased, and ze next town vill love us.”
“Yeah,” the Apprentice mumbled reluctantly, “I suppose you’re right. I never knew anyone there, but it’s still creepy, you know. Just how random it was, I suppose. It has to mean something, like a sign or an omen.”
“Now don’t start getting political on moi!” grumbled Chef Torte, walking around the campsite and stretching. “Pick up ze packs, and let’s get jiggy viz it. Time’s a-vasting.”
The Apprentice muttered irritably as he shuffled around, gathering the pair’s leftover food and camping supplies. Sunbeams sparkled off of Chef Torte’s plentiful pots and pans in view of the waning morning, and the sun itself was rising higher in the sky. It would be nightfall before their course crossed paths with the rest stop at the bottom of the Midas Waterfall. Neither of them were willing to discuss their bare funds, either, which were coincidentally just enough to purchase them one evening’s room and board.
Feeling a bit braver after they had started down, the Apprentice decided it was time to prod around Chef Torte’s plans. “What are we going to do once we reach Rose Town, Master Torte?”
The foreign Terrapin eased the shoulders of his pack and chewed on the bottom of his mouth. “Ve’ll make amends viz ze public, bringing zem ze piteous news of doom and gloom from our previous vantage point atop ze mountain. Zat ve’ll put us in ze spotlight, you see, and ven zhere ist ze mourning and ze vhining, ve cook zem meals zey von’t forget. Afteir a few days, ve set up shop, and, boom, instant success.”
“Wow, Master Torte, you’re so good at planning these things out,” said the Apprentice, playing the part of a dutiful admirer. “Still, don’t you think the entire capital and east portion of the Mushroom Kingdom getting wiped out will be sort of hard for them to believe? I mean, I bet we don’t even realize how serious it is yet.”
“Sheesh,” said Chef Torte, waving a hand in disregard, “you verry too much, you know? Just shut your trap, and ve’ll figure all zat out lateir. In ze meantime, I need to put on my zhinking cap, so don’t bozeir moi.”
The Apprentice sighed and marched on, attempting to keep in relative stride with his Master’s periodic stops and furious steps. No matter how diligently he tried to calm his mind, though, the shorter Terrapin could not fend off a persistent premonition of malice.