The Shrine of Avooblis

by Charles Streams

  “Are you serious?” Earl asked. He glanced at Lita and Elloriana to see if they were buying what Dagdron was saying.

  Dagdron, realizing Earl wouldn’t drop the subject until he had every last detail, told the story of how he had approached and distracted the goblins before knocking out two of them and fighting off the third.

  “I got sausages and pie as my reward,” Dagdron said.

  His three companions’ faces were etched in surprise.

  “You’re not even allowed to fulfill quests yet,” Elloriana said, but the jealousy was all too obvious in her tone.

  “I told the farmer I wasn’t an adventurer. But he said adventurers never passed that way, so they really needed help.” Dagdron kept pushing his accolade, enjoying the envious looks the other three were giving him.

  “Why did you have to invite us on the caravan? I could’ve been there with him,” Earl said, turning toward Elloriana then, realizing he was talking to the princess of his kingdom, he relented. “Sorry, Princess Elloriana. I didn’t mean to talk bad about you or your family.”

  “Well, you should,” Elloriana replied, stunning Earl with her bluntness. “My parents are so controlling. I had to study magic hidden in my bedroom all summer. If they weren’t so protective, then maybe I could’ve traveled north on foot with you and Dagdron. What a waste of an opportunity.”

  It took a while for Earl to calm down, but then he grinned broadly at Dagdron. “You inspire us,” he said.

  “I don’t inspire anyone,” Dagdron said, lifting his dagger.

  “Yes, you do,” Elloriana said. “Earl and Lita, let’s get our tallies going.”

  Dagdron protested, but all he could do was watch as Earl, Elloriana, and Lita chose a side of the tree. Elloriana used a flame spell to burn her name into the back side of the trunk and one tally mark. Earl and Lita did the same but with their swords—Earl on the right, Lita on the left.

  Elloriana smirked at Dagdron. “I better go see if Byron has arrived. I can’t let him see me with you guys.”

  “Don’t come back here, you dumb wench,” Dagdron called, but the enchantress ignored him.

  “Welcome back to the academy,” Earl said, putting his arm around Dagdron’s shoulder. “Keeping a tally of our quests. How do you come up with such great ideas? Our second year at the academy is going to be so awesome.”

  Dagdron, growling, threw Earl’s arm off him, covered his head with his hood, and slinked silently up into the quest tree.

  Chapter 9: Hidden Impressions

  Dagdron, uninterested in anything Headmaster Gwauldron had to say, skipped the opening meeting. While everyone else was occupied in the meeting hall, he found his and Earl’s room at the end of the second floor of the boys’ tower, identifying it by Earl’s five chests. Then, he returned to his tree to pass the rest of the day in peace and quiet.

  Unfortunately, once Earl had finished unpacking, he joined Dagdron. Although the rogue remained hidden by the thick leaves of the tree, Earl, standing below, gave him a loud play-by-play of everything the headmaster had said at the meeting. He also included his each and every observation about the new and returning students alike.

  “I’ve got to tell you,” Earl said. “Those first years look so tiny to me. I’m sure the older students were saying that about us last year, but I swear we weren’t that small.”

  “Chef Barig hasn’t made them eat yet,” Dagdron said.

  “I didn’t say we look fatter,” Earl said with a chuckle. “We look taller and more mature.”

  “Mature? Yeah right.” Elloriana’s voice sounded from below. Dagdron glanced down at her. “Come down, rogue. We need to have a team meeting.”

  “Good idea, Princess,” Earl said.

  “We’re not a team,” Dagdron called down. “And we’re not going to help you date Byron.”

  “I have some ideas about the blue orb,” Elloriana said, irked.

  “What did you find out about it?” Earl asked.

  “Nothing yet, but I think we can ask Chesna about it.”

  “No way,” Dagdron called down.

  Chesna owned the magic shop in Bodaburg. Elloriana loved her because she counseled her on different spells and potions but, although Chesna had helped indirectly with their first quest, Dagdron had come to distrust her.

  “Why not?” Elloriana asked.

  Dagdron climbed down the tree. “Remember this?” He pulled out the parchment that Chesna had given them at the end of the previous school year, stating that the Arches of Avooblis had been created in Coastdale.

  “Yes, Chensa gave it to you. So what?”

  “She could be in league with Rance or the headmaster. Either way, I don’t trust her.”

  Elloriana looked perturbed and confused, so Dagdron nodded to Earl, seeing how anxious he was to explain. Earl told her everything about their visit in Coastdale and what Wendahl had told them about Rance and Headmaster Gwauldron.

  “But if the note showed up anonymously in the magic shop, that doesn’t mean Chesna is untrustworthy,” Elloriana said defensively.

  “Believe whatever you want,” Dagdron said. “While we were walking this summer, Earl forced me to listen while he read the adventurer’s handbook.”

  Elloriana glanced at Earl and he said, “He still hadn’t read it.”

  “Anyway,” Dagdron continued. “I know it says not to let too many people know about a quest. Chesna can help us indirectly, but I don’t want her knowing about the sphere. You, Earl, and Lita can know about it, but no one else.”

  “If Wendahl was telling the truth and it holds the mystery of how Dagdron’s family became involved with the Arches of Avooblis, it might be smart to let as few people know as possible,” Earl added politely.

  Elloriana’s let a pensive look cross her face. “I understand that,” she said. “But—”

  “Here come the richy demands,” Dagdron interjected.

  “I want to be able to try to delve into the orb’s magic once a week. I will study and ask Chesna general questions about tapping into objects, but I won’t tell her anything specific.”

  “Done,” Dagdron said.

  “No!” Earl exclaimed. “The orb knocked you unconscious the first time. I’m sure it can do worse.”

  “I have to learn somehow,” Elloriana said. “We can bring a pillow out here and you guys can be ready to help me if something goes wrong.”

  Earl looked to Dagdron for support.

  “Richies always get what they want,” Dagdron said. “Especially wench richies.”

  “Dagdron, this is really dangerous,” Earl said. “I want answers too, but I have to uphold my duties of protecting the princess as well.”

  “Let’s see how it goes a couple of more times,” Dagdron said. “She didn’t even last two seconds the first time, so it’s not like she was in trouble of having her brain seared from a magical connection.”

  “I am still here!” Elloriana said.

  “We’ll do it every Saturday night,” Dagdron said. “That way you won’t miss any classes when you’re knocked out. We don’t want to arouse any suspicion with the headmaster.”

  The rogue and enchantress looked at Earl.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll let Lita know. At least she can carry Elloriana back to their room since they’re roommates this year.”

  “You don’t have your own room?” Dagdron asked.

  “Lita and I decided it would be best to room together. That way we can keep an eye on you two together and cover for each other when we have quest duties to fulfill.” Elloriana flipped her hair as she turned to head back to the academy.

  * * *

  Dagdron accepted the inevitable and got back into the routine of the academy. The second years’ rooms were nicer than they had been on the first floor. The mattresses were thicker, there were desks to study at, wardrobes stood against the walls, and there was more room for Earl to keep his trunks out of the way. For Dagdron, besides the fact that he didn’t have to worry about Ear
l tripping as easily with a larger room, the amenities meant nothing. He still slept on the floor and kept the few items he owned underneath his bed.

  The biggest surprise came when Dagdron headed down the classroom tower to the gray-walled halls where the rogues had lessons. He saw Scar waiting in the left-hand corridor, greeting each of the first years by ripping their hoods from their head. Dagdron took the middle corridor to the second-year classroom. At the front of the room, a hunched figure stood, completely hidden by his black cloak and hood. Dagdron loved the concealed feeling he received with his hood on, especially when he was talking to Earl, but the second-year rogue teacher was so completely veiled in darkness that Dagdron couldn’t even decipher the form of his face.

  As soon as Dagdron took his seat, the teacher threw a dagger with one of his gnarled hands. The knife bounced off the wall, stuck into the door, and slammed it shut. The rogues looked around in surprise because there were only ten of them present. The previous year there had been thirty to forty of them. The only blond-haired rogue, named Cort, who was as short as ever, spoke what they were all thinking.

  “Where is everyone?” he said aloud.

  The teacher threw another dagger and it stabbed into the floor just under Cort’s chair. The class of rogues watched as the teacher lifted a crooked finger, holding it over where his mouth would be. He then pulled out a third dagger, motioning with it first to Cort and then toward a wooden bull’s-eye hanging on the wall.

  Cort stood up, taking his dagger out, preparing to throw it at the target. As he did so, the teacher threw a dagger in his direction, then another, and another. As Cort dodged the knives, the teacher continuously pointed at the target. Cort threw his dagger but, leaning to avoid one of the daggers flying his way, he completely missed the board. The rogue kept tossing knives as Cort dashed forward to pick his own up. This process was repeated until Cort successfully hit the center of the target.

  How many daggers does he have? Dagdron thought. Only when Cort finished the activity did the teacher pick up any of the daggers. He seemed to have an endless supply.

  When it was Dagdron’s turn, he dodged the daggers coming his way, and threw his own for an easy bull’s-eye. His practice throwing while jumping from boulders in Cliffmount had already prepared him for the task, but the teacher didn’t let him off so easily. He pointed to a position farther across the room, and made Dagdron repeat the activity two more times. Each time, though, Dagdron effectively avoided the daggers and hit the target in the center.

  When the class was over, the instructor walked to the other side of the room, pulled his dagger free, and opened the door. He didn’t say anything else, but the rogues knew it was time to go, and they all slinked out.

  Earl talked excitedly and danced a little jig when he came to find Dagdron at the quest tree before dinner. His teacher had been very impressed with him, Earl explained, using him as an example of what proper practice over the summer can do for you.

  “It was the first day of classes, and I already feel more like an adventurer,” Earl said. “How did your first class go? What’s your teacher’s name?”

  “I don’t know,” Dagdron said.

  “Don’t tell me you ditched the first day!”

  “I don’t know because he didn’t say a single word.” Dagdron explained what his teacher and class had consisted of.

  “You mean to tell me that the nameless and soundless teacher is real?” Earl said, his mouth dropping open. “That was one rumor about the Adventurers’ Academy that even I didn’t believe. Supposedly he is so convinced that silence is such a big part of good roguery that he hasn’t said a word for over thirty years. That’s why no one knows his name.”

  “Longer than that. His hands are ancient.”

  “Wow,” Earl said, filing away the fact on his list of academy knowledge.

  “Were there fewer warriors?” Dagdron asked.

  “There were just a few who didn’t come back. Why?”

  “Because there are only ten second-year rogues.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Earl said. “I’ve always told you how lucky you are to be at the Adventurers’ Academy. Very few rogues make it through all three years. Most of them turn into common thieves and spend their lives trying to make a living pickpocketing and stealing. But they end up spending half their time in jail cells. You’re in an elite group. There are very few true adventuring rogues.”

  “I feel so lucky.”

  “You should. You can really build a network with those rogues and that will help you long after your time at the academy.”

  “I didn’t learn their names last year, and I’m not going to this year,” Dagdron said.

  The first weekend of September, the students went on their inaugural visit to Bodaburg. While Headmaster Gwauldron gathered all the first years in the entrance hall, Dagdron and Earl hurried down the path and into the village. Mercer had his normal stand set up, waiting for naive first years to sign up with him.

  “I can’t believe Headmaster Gwauldron’s letting him do that still,” Earl said.

  Mercer was a very wealthy and well-connected merchant. He pushed his services on the adventurers at the academy, trying to convince them to allow him to be in charge of their finances and quest budgeting. Only, last year, Earl and Dagdron had discovered that Mercer had been in charge of the Kemp scandal, as Earl called it. Kemp Balin, one of the most well-known warrior adventurers from the academy, wasn’t really fulfilling his quests. Mercer was finding groups of other people to complete them, taking a cut of the money while Kemp got all the fame.

  Earl pretended to be interested in a stall selling baskets, but Dagdron knew he was just waiting to see what the headmaster did when he reached the city gates. Earl, aghast, watched as the headmaster gave a speech to the first years at the gate of Bodaburg and then let them free. Many gave in to Mercer’s beckon and raced to his stall, but the headmaster did nothing to stop them.

  Earl, heaving with annoyance, was about to stomp over and stop the first years from signing up when a flame spell suddenly darted from amongst the crowd, and Mercer’s stand burst into flames. Earl stopped dead in his tracks, looking all around. Headmaster Gwauldron, his white bushy eyebrows and spiked goatee noticeably sticking out in the crowd, gave a single nod of his head in Earl’s direction before disappearing along the street.

  “Ha!” Earl said.

  “Let’s go,” Dagdron said.

  Earl was usually the one to hurry Dagdron along, but the rogue, anxious, walked briskly with the warrior following him. As they neared the end of the main street, they saw an old man in a dark cloak standing at the entrance to an alleyway.

  “Sonny and rich sonny!” Grizzard exclaimed.

  Dagdron gave him a smile and wave, but Earl hurried forward and squeezed the old rogue. Grizzard cackled loudly, his almost toothless mouth wide open. In their battle to retrieve the Arch of Avooblis, Grizzard had come to Earl’s rescue and the warrior boy would never forget it.

  “I knew you would be coming to see old Grizzard one of these days,” the ancient rogue said.

  Dagdron and Earl accompanied Grizzard to the back of his alley, catching up with each other. Earl asked for all the details about what Grizzard had done in Bodaburg over the summer, and then told him about the towns he and Dagdron had visited.

  “If you get into any adventuring this year, you know where to find me,” Grizzard said as they said goodbye, his cackle echoing off the walls.

  Earl took over leading Dagdron around Bodaburg, spending most of the time in weapons shops, checking out the new swords that had been forged. Dagdron showed as much patience as he could but, when he was tired of browsing, he acted like he was planning on stealing something, which was always a sure way to get Earl to leave a shop.

  When lunchtime rolled around, the two boys headed to the Bodaburg Tavern, the legendary hangout where they had spent many nights during their first year. They had never seen any other students of the Adventurers’ Academy da
re to enter. At the doorway, they quickly scanned the pub for Kemp Balin. They had exposed him as a dishonorable adventurer alumnus from the academy. He had attacked them once, and they had most often seen him drunk in the tavern, but he wasn’t there today. As they walked to their usual corner table, Earl suddenly gasped.

  “The bartender is happy we’re back,” Earl said. “He smiled.”

  Dagdron looked, but the bartender, with his square head, black hair, and leather vest with no shirt underneath, wore the same scowl he always did.

  “Are you going to try the Goblin’s Bile this year?” Dagdron asked.

  “Of course, not,” Earl said. “You know I’m only trying it after our graduation.”

  Dagdron smiled under his hood as he saw Earl look toward the three kegs that were built into the wall. One held mead, one held ale, but the center one had a goblin head stuck to it. Goblin’s Bile was a notorious drink only offered at the Bodaburg Tavern and one that only real men could get down as it made smoke shoot out of your ears since it was so strong.

  Whether the bartender had smiled or not, he tired quickly of Dagdron and Earl sitting there for three minutes without ordering, so Earl shouted out their traditional meal of ham legs and spicy potato wedges. The bartender slammed the food down on the table a few minutes later, grabbed his gold coins with a grunt, and plodded back to the bar.

  “Mmmmm,” Earl said as he ripped a piece of meat from the ham leg. Dagdron, watching Earl eat as if he were in heaven, couldn’t deny that he was content to be eating in the tavern again too.

  “I’m so happy to be back here!” Earl said gleefully as they left the tavern. Earl used his handkerchief to clean off the front of his leather jerkin.

  “At least one of us is,” Dagdron said.

  “I know you think I can’t, but I can read you. I know you’re happy to be back too.”