The Shrine of Avooblis

by Charles Streams

  In the meantime, Earl and Lita had jumped from the shelf and drawn their swords. Kemp, snarling like a caged animal, thrust his spears vigorously at them. Fighting side by side, Earl and Lita smashed the spears from Kemp’s hands, grabbed hold of one of his arms, and jointly threw him across the clearing.

  Dagdron rushed over to where Elloriana was still on the ground. She smiled at him. Dagdron grabbed the spore from her, checking to make sure it was unharmed. Earl and Lita, filled with adrenaline, jogged over with smiles imprinted on their faces. Earl chivalrously helped Elloriana up.

  “You fiend,” Elloriana said, scowling at Dagdron.

  “What?”

  “You were worried about the spore? I saved us all from being put into comas.”

  “You didn’t save us,” Dagdron said. “If you hadn’t let Kemp push you, then Earl wouldn’t have flung the seed.”

  Elloriana glowered at him before fixing her robe and hair as Earl retrieved the book for her. Kemp was still on the ground, making incoherent grunts, so the group left the clearing briskly, Dagdron holding the spore securely in his hands.

  Chapter 16: Fetching Performance

  Elloriana and Lita were more than prepared when Dagdron and Earl met them at the arch wall on the first Friday night of November. Both their arms were bulging with pillows and blankets. Earl had a single pillow, but Dagdron only had his cloak. Not wanting to attract attention by missing classes if Mazannanan knocked them out for too long, Dagdron had kept the lanziria spore securely in his and Earl’s bedroom. This had given the girls plenty of time to prepare for their night out.

  “Don’t you want to delve into the powers of the orb anymore?” Dagdron asked Elloriana before placing it in the arch indentation. “It’s been a few weekends.”

  “I’m tired of spending my Friday nights unconscious,” Elloriana said.

  “So much for wanting all the magical experience you could get.”

  “I think you misunderstood Wendahl. That orb was enchanted to open this wall. It doesn’t have any magic to tap into.”

  “You really want to be awake for your special dates with Byron,” Dagdron said. “You don’t want to miss a night of gazing into his eyes across your private richy table on the sixth floor.”

  Elloriana scowled at Dagdron, but she hesitated before replying, taken by surprise at how specific the insult was. “Did you spy on me?” she said.

  “We wanted to know what information you were giving Byron,” Dagdron said.

  Elloriana’s mouth dropped open and she huffed as she looked from Dagdron to Earl. “You both spied on me? How dare you?”

  “It was just a precaution,” Earl said, but Dagdron cut him off.

  “You said Earl was a loudmouth.” Dagdron let a small smile cross his face as Elloriana glanced at Earl, who took on an offended expression as he remembered what they had overheard.

  “I was just taking Byron’s side so he would confide in me,” the enchantress explained.

  “You said there was something off with Dagdron,” Earl said with a hurt tone.

  “There is something off with him,” Elloriana said. “And I don’t have to defend myself. It’s against the rules for any boys to enter the girls’ tower. You had no right to be there, let alone spy on me!”

  “It was just a precaution,” Earl repeated.

  Dagdron kept his face blank but looked from Earl to Elloriana with internal amusement.

  Lita, in order to stop the argument, grabbed Dagdron’s hand and placed it and the sphere against the indentation to open the shrine. Elloriana was still scoffing as they walked down the stairs, so Earl apologized to her, earning him a jab from Dagdron’s dagger.

  When Mazannanan stepped out of his stone arch and saw Elloriana and Lita spreading out their bedding, his face furrowed in disgust.

  “Have you no respect for the Shrine of Avooblis?” the wizard said. “Don’t bring your clutter here.”

  Elloriana glowered at the wizard, but Dagdron placed the spore gently on the altar to distract him. Mazannanan waved his hands an inch over the seed, as if feeling its essence.

  “Wonderful, wonderful,” he said. “Certain ingredients must be gathered once spring returns to the land but the lanziria plants would have set us back much longer if we had to await their blooming season.”

  “What happened to you when the shrine crumbled?” Dagdron asked.

  “For the time being, my story must be put on hold,” the wizard replied, raising his hand when Dagdron was going to protest. “After all, you are seeking not my past but the history of the Arches of Avooblis.”

  “Tell us.” Dagdron instinctively pulled his dagger from beneath his cloak.

  “I cannot tell you because this part does not belong to me. I must show you.” The Wizard of Avooblis indicated to the arch directly behind the altar.

  “Who’s the woman who appears in the right arch?” Elloriana asked, stalling as she straightened out her pillows.

  “She is my servant,” Mazannanan answered.

  “Why doesn’t she come out of the arch like you do?” Elloriana continued.

  “She is not powerful enough, and what right do subordinates have to use the portals of the shrine? Enough talk about females.”

  Elloriana scoffed and hurried to finish settling her bedding. Dagdron wadded up his cloak, and Earl put his pillow right next to it, leaving a gentlemanly distance between the girls.

  “Fret not,” the wizard said, seeing the exhausted expressions of the young adventurers. “The nearer history will be easier for your simple brains to withstand.”

  Up went the wizard’s arms and the tome flipped violently. Each stone arch was filled with lightning and then blue light; the dark-haired woman appeared in the right one as a scene opened up in the middle one.

  There were three young enchanters standing on the mountainside. All were tall and dressed in robes, but one wore blue, one purple, and the third a flowing magenta. Although much younger, they were recognizable enough as Headmaster Gwauldron, Rance, and Wendahl. The headmaster still had his spiked goatee, though it was brown. Rance’s hair was black, and Wendahl’s was light brown. The sky was dark and gloomy, casting an eerie ambience over the ruins the three enchanters were observing. The gray remnants had been overgrown with grass and vegetation.

  The headmaster raised his arm, counted to three, and the group rushed forward, casting an onslaught of spells. A growling spumasaur appeared, foaming at the mouth and flinging its spittle. The mass of spells hit the spumasaur, but had no effect as the incantations bounced off its magic resistant skin.

  At the headmaster’s indication, the enchanters hastily retreated, but the spumasaur remained guarding the opening. Rance motioned for the headmaster and Wendahl to join him, and the three magic users raised both hands, emanating the blue light of a serenity spell. A calm fell over the area but the spumasaur foamed more ferociously, more awake than ever.

  The headmaster called an end to the spell casting, and turned to Wendahl nodding his head and gesticulating with his hands as if affirming something. Wendahl grinned broadly, and the headmaster smiled in return, but Rance didn’t look amused.

  The scene changed in the arch. The mountainside and ruins were still there, but the sky was now blue, and a strapping warrior and hooded rogue had joined the three enchanters.

  The rogue left the group, climbing the mountainside, while the warrior and Wendahl approached the ruins. The headmaster and Rance stayed behind, the prior smiling broadly, the latter still unmoved. The spumasaur jumped out of the opening protectively, flinging its spittle in all directions. The warrior moved forward boldly, tempting the lizard with his sword, while Wendahl, staying farther back, cast spells as a second distraction.

  The rogue appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, above the spumasaur. His head was still hooded, but he was holding a rope in his hands. As the warrior and enchanter continued aggravating the lizard below, the rogue jumped and landed on its back. He took a minute to grow accustomed to the t
hrashing of the beast and then, careful not to get splattered by spittle, the rogue tucked the rope under the diamond-shaped head, grabbing the end on the other side to use the cord as reins.

  The spumasaur, still intent on guarding its terrain, thrashed more violently in hopes of bucking off its mount. The rogue kept his balance as the creature turned in circles. Little by little, the spumasaur’s movements had taken it away from the opening. Seeing this, the rogue kicked his heels into the beast, and the creature finally bolted away. The rogue let out a cackling exclamation of delight as the velocity of the spumasaur made him lean backward. The rush of air blew his hood from his brown-haired head as he disappeared into the forest to the west of the ruins.

  The headmaster clapped as Wendahl raised his hands, sending magenta sparkles into the air, while the warrior struck a pose that showed off his rippling muscles.

  Rance said nothing and strode to the now unguarded opening. Headmaster Gwauldron, Wendahl, and the warrior followed him, ducking into the ruins. They appeared on a ledge overlooking a crumbled scene. The rounded tops of three stone arches stood above the wreckage of rocks that covered the chamber. From the center of the room, a blue light glimmered, first brightly before dimming again and repeating the process.

  The scene in the arch suddenly went black, and the next thing Dagdron heard was Earl’s voice.

  “It was the arches, Dad,” Earl muttered. “That’s why you have to shovel dung in the stables for the rest of your life.”

  Dagdron, suddenly realizing that Earl was mumbling directly into his ear and that the warrior’s arm was draped over him, sat up and shoved Earl’s arm off him.

  “We can still be noble stable hands,” Earl mumbled as he rolled over.

  Dagdron stood up and put his cloak on. Elloriana and Lita hadn’t fallen completely straight, but their bundle of bedding was so big that they appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

  Dagdron let them rest while he walked around the chamber, pondering the scene they had watched the night before. He had already assumed the headmaster, Rance, and Wendahl had some sort of connection, but at least more light was being shed on the situation. Mazannanan was fulfilling his part of the deal, Dagdron thought. The history of the Arches of Avooblis was being revealed to them.

  The lightning clashed in the left-hand arch, waking up Earl, Elloriana, and Lita. The wizard stepped out, shaking his head at the three recumbent figures.

  “The next ingredient will best be gathered toward the end of the winter season. Enjoy your carnival,” the wizard said cuttingly. He turned and disappeared into the arch as he muttered, “Slothfulness.”

  * * *

  Even Earl’s vexation about his family’s ordeal couldn’t keep his excitement about the Winter Carnival from burbling to the surface, especially when Dugan’s dad showed up outside the back fence of the academy. He explained that he and Wendahl had found the letter in Mercer’s house, but they were going to wait to take it the day before the Valorington’s trial, so as not to alert Mercer of what was going on.

  And Earl wasn’t the only one bursting with emotion. The week leading up to the festival, the academy was abuzz as all the students gossiped and prepared for the exhilarating time that awaited them in Bodaburg in the middle of November. In addition to this, Earl, Elloriana, and Lita were much less stressed out not having to return to Mazannanan’s laboratory for a couple of months. This, in turn, made it more enjoyable to discuss the beginning of the modern times of the arch crystals, and the headmaster, Rance, and Wendahl’s relationship. Dagdron would have preferred to get all the information about the Arches of Avooblis as soon as possible but, never being one to worry about things that were out of his control, he used his spare time to lounge in his tree.

  When the first day of the Winter Carnival arrived, Earl was up and ready before Dagdron was even awake. The rogue had been sleeping more restfully since Earl’s nightmares had been intermixed with more festive dreams.

  “No need to fret, yet,” Earl said as soon as he saw Dagdron stir. “No snow is forecast this week, so we might as well enjoy the full festival before my parents and I have to meet with King and Queen Loftloomburg.”

  Dagdron put his cloak on as Earl hummed. Dagdron had been making an effort to coach Earl on keeping his answers short and to the point. The problem was Earl tended to ramble when he was nervous, so Dagdron didn’t have much hope he could keep himself under control. He reminded Earl many times of how prepared he had been when he approached the headmaster about ridding the Adventurers’ Academy of Kemp’s false trophies, but Dagdron wasn’t sure if he could do the same with his family’s nobility on the line.

  Count and Countess Valorington were waiting at the Bodaburg gate when Earl and Dagdron arrived. Earl’s mom was stiffer than ever, the frustration painted obviously on her face, but Earl’s dad still greeted his son and Dagdron with a hearty hug.

  “We need to discuss a few things with you in private,” Countess Valorington said to Earl.

  “Mom, let’s enjoy the festival first,” Earl said, Count Valorington nodding his head in agreement.

  “Definitely not,” his mom replied.

  “I’ll see you later,” Dagdron said.

  Earl was sorry to see him go, but just gave a weak wave to his friend.

  Dagdron felt sorry for Earl, but he wasn’t discouraged in the least about being alone at the carnival. Last year he had eaten more than his fill and snatched so many gold coins that he still hadn’t used them all. As he put his hood on and searched for his first mark, he felt a pat on his back, and his father appeared at his side, his hood off.

  “I’d like it if we could spend the festival together,” Dugan said.

  “Fine,” Dagdron said. “I was just about to get breakfast. I’ll get you some too.”

  Dagdron slipped through the crowd before his father could say anything else. He returned shortly after with two cheese-filled rolls. He handed one to his father, and they passed through the crowd, munching their breakfast. They stopped to watch an entertainer playing his lute as he danced and sang a comical ode about smelly old Aldo, whose stench could be whiffed from miles away, and who was forced to live alone on an island in the sea. While many onlookers threw coins at the feet of the musician, Dagdron took the opportunity to pickpocket unsuspecting spectators. His father saw him, Dagdron knew, but didn’t comment on it.

  By noontime, Dagdron had a pocketful of coins, and he and his father were full enough they didn’t need lunch. Wanting a break from all the people, they headed in the direction of the tavern. As they neared Grizzard’s alley, they saw Wendahl coming out, his hoe in his right hand, his left arm cradling a bunch of other objects.

  “Be careful if you go in there,” Wendahl said, signaling with his head.

  “Grizzard lives there,” Dagdron said.

  “I think I disturbed him. He didn’t even want me gathering props for my performance this afternoon.” Wendahl pointed with his chin at the dirty objects in the crook of his left arm. “I hope you both stop by. Boy, is it great to be back at the Bodaburg Winter Carnival!”

  “We’ll pass by,” Dugan said, and Wendahl headed off down the street.

  Dagdron and Dugan walked to the entrance of Grizzard’s alley where Dugan stopped Dagdron before entering.

  “The Adventurers’ Academy is improving your rogue skills even more than I expected,” Dugan said. “You can pickpocket just about anyone. You don’t even make a sound.”

  Dagdron shrugged. “My teacher this year forces us to learn. He has never spoken a word, and none of the rogues are allowed to either.”

  “He must be really good. I’m having trouble reading your expressions. I couldn’t tell if you were serious or not that you didn’t want to know about the arches anymore.”

  “I was serious. I don’t need you to tell me about them.”

  Dagdron looked at his father’s probing eyes. His father was suspicious, he knew, catching the specific phrasing. Still, Dagdron figured not straight out lying
, in this case, was better. If he pretended to have no interest in the arches, he knew his father would be able to catch the fib. Saying he didn’t need anyone to tell him, left enough vagueness that his dad wouldn’t know what to think. From what Dagdron had gathered, no one else knew about Mazannanan or at least couldn’t enter the shrine below the academy.

  “Is that why you and Earl and the girls have been sneaking into the forest to look for the third arch?” Dugan asked.

  “No.”

  “What for then?”

  “To look for understanding about why parents aren’t allowed to visit the Adventurers’ Academy during the school year.”

  “Dagdron, I didn’t want you involved with the Arches of Avooblis.”

  “And I don’t want to be involved. I didn’t want to come to the academy in the first place, remember? I didn’t want to find the second crystal last year, and I definitely don’t want to look for the third one this year.”

  “I just want you to be safe,” Dugan said sincerely.

  “We’re not looking for the third arch.”

  Dugan nodded without saying anything else. They visited with Grizzard for a while. Instead of resting peacefully, waiting until the darker hours to forage for whatever leftovers he could find once the carnival shut down like he usually did, the old rogue grumbled frustratedly about trespassing enchanters.

  “Did Wendahl bother you?” Dagdron finally asked.

  “Yes, sonny,” Grizzard said, taking in a deep breath. “He thinks he can intrude on old Grizzard’s territory whenever he wants. I best get some rest. I’m sure I’ll feel better after I rest my old bones.”