The Howl of Avooblis
By
Charles Streams
Copyright © 2014 Charles Streams
All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Howl of Avooblis is book 3 in The Adventurers’ Academy Series.
To Ben,
young spumasaur rider
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Delayed Delivery
Chapter 2: Boulder Castle
Chapter 3: Egon
Chapter 4: The Rim of Thorns
Chapter 5: Wendahl’s Regret
Chapter 6: Rich Not Richy
Chapter 7: Earl’s Worst Nightmare
Chapter 8: Just Leaving
Chapter 9: The Intrusion
Chapter 10: Adventurers or Ambassadors?
Chapter 11: Treasure Quest
Chapter 12: Name & Sign
Chapter 13: Earth Exploded
Chapter 14: Wind Whirled
Chapter 15: Cave Conflicts
Chapter 17: Richy Changes
Chapter 18: Enchanter Versus Warrior, Rogue Versus King
Chapter 19: Cozy Cocoons
Chapter 20: Netted Suspicions
Chapter 21: Shack, Sinkholes, & Staff
Chapter 23: The Net
Chapter 27: The Trove
Chapter 28: Master’s Key
Chapter 29: The Return to the Shrine
Chapter 30: The Battle for the Bone
Chapter 31: Enchanter, Rogue, & Warrior
Chapter 32: Bubbling Brew
Chapter 33: The Backer
Chapter 34: The Summoning
Chapter 35: Release & Reward
Chapter 36: The Howl of Avooblis
Chapter 37: Final Quests
Chapter 38: Who Cares?
Chapter 39: Touching & Heartfelt
Chapter 40: The Four Adventurers
Chapter 1: Delayed Delivery
Dagdron Obor sat hunched with his back pressed against a boulder, shielding himself from his pursuer. Sweat ran down his forehead, stinging his dark eyes and dripping from the tip of his nose as the sun above Cliffmount beat down on his hiding place. The rogue, knowing that the intense heat was making his breathing more labored, silently raised his hand, pulling his hood from his head. His black hair was drenched in sweat. Dagdron wiped his forehead and blinked in an effort to rid himself of the salty sting.
With his vision clear, he located a boulder a few feet away. He would be exposed for about six feet, Dagdron estimated, but he thought he could make it with a dash. Crouching on his feet, he readied himself to bolt. In the precise moment he was about to dart to the neighboring boulder, he realized he had waited too long. His blond-haired enemy raced around the boulder with a mighty war cry, swinging his sword. Dagdron, just in time, rolled to the side as the sword clanked on the rock, taking out a chunk.
“I finally found you!” Earl Valorington exclaimed, dancing a little jig as he sheathed his sword.
“You heard me breathing?” Dagdron asked.
“Yep.” Earl grinned broadly, brushing dust off his leather jerkin. “The listening techniques you’ve been teaching me over the past week are amazing. I’m going to be so well prepared for our third year at the academy.”
“Don’t call it teaching.” Dagdron whipped out his dagger, pointing it toward his warrior friend.
“All I’m saying is that I’m learning how to identify my surroundings without just rushing in like a warrior usually does. And that’s thanks to you.”
“Stop talking.” Dagdron turned away, heading back to his cave.
Earl obeyed, humming as they went instead. Along the way, the young warrior swished his sword this way and that, practicing his fighting moves. He only stopped when he stumbled on a rock, grabbing hold of Dagdron so he didn’t fall.
Dagdron threw Earl’s arms off him, longing for the solitary days he had experienced before the current week. He had spent all of June alone and content in Cliffmount, climbing, jumping, and throwing his dagger on the cliffs. Then Earl had arrived. The first day of his visit, Earl had talked of nothing except his new house in Lordavia. The previous year, Earl’s family had been stripped of their nobility status because of Earl’s involvement with the Arches of Avooblis. Dagdron had given the Valoringtons a pouch of rare amethysts, which had allowed Earl’s parents to purchase a new home. From the way Earl had described each and every inch of it, Dagdron could only assume it was the most incredible house ever built. Dagdron hadn’t wanted the Valoringtons to suffer when they were kicked out of the royal pyramid in Lordavia, so he was happy that they had a house. He just didn’t want to hear about it.
Dagdron, realizing his patience wouldn’t last, had come up with some activities for him and Earl on the cliffs in order to stanch the talking of his companion. Earl was all for the idea. While Dagdron was content to be on the cliffs he had played on since boyhood, Earl was overjoyed to be training during the summer. No matter how many times Dagdron told him not to mention it, Earl constantly talked about their need to be prepared for their third and final year at the Adventurers’ Academy, after which they would set out on their own to fulfill quests throughout the land.
Earl, intent on being prepared, went right back to practicing his sword stances as they went.
“Stop with your sword,” Dagdron said.
“Our third year at the academy starts in a couple of months,” Earl explained. “And then that’s it. We’re on our own fulfilling quests. We need to be prepared.”
“The third year is supposed to prepare us. No practice is required before then.”
“Are you kidding me? The practice scenarios we’ve been doing will help set us apart from the other adventurers. We’ll be more ready than anyone.”
Dagdron put his hood back on and didn’t reply.
“I know what’s going on here,” Earl said, stepping in front of Dagdron, showing off his slender, padded boots. “You’re jealous of my new boots.”
“I’ll shred them soon.”
“Stop, Dagdron,” Earl said. “I know you’re upset because you can’t hear me approaching since my boots don’t squeak anymore, but that’s no reason to take it out on them. If it wasn’t for the gems you gave my family, I wouldn’t have been able to afford them anyway. I had them especially tailored to my feet by the best shoemaker in Lordavia.”
“What do you mean? Your family had plenty before.”
“We were only lower-ranking nobles,” Earl explained. “We were provided for and given an abundant allowance, but that doesn’t mean we had enough to buy every single thing we wanted. The Broodavian amethysts are worth way more than King Loftloomburg ever gave us.”
Dagdron picked up the pace, anxious to reach the chimney-shaped rock pile. He slipped through the hole in the side, nimbly climbing down into the cave. Earl, though struggling to fit his larger warrior’s body through the hole up top, climbed down without a problem, having already had a week of practice.
“I still don’t see why you don’t learn a simple open spell and conceal spell,” Earl said. “You could just use it to get in and out of the cave.”
“I hate magic,” Dagdron said.
Dagdron’s father, Dugan, had brought Dagdron to Cliffmount when he was two years old. They had fled from danger in a village far away named Coastdale.
In order to protect them, Dugan had learned to conceal and open the cave doorway with magic. But during his time at the academy and because of his experiences with the Arches of Avooblis, Dagdron thought less and less of magic. He had learned to cast a simple flame spell during cross-over classes in their second year, but he much preferred climbing out of the cave and relying on his own rogue skills.
“I prefer to use my sword more than anything,” Earl concurred. “But, after seeing Wendahl’s magic all last year, I find magic even more astonishing.”
Dagdron didn’t reply as he lay down on the ground to cool off. Earl busied himself straightening up the cave. While Dagdron and Dugan kept few possessions, Earl had brought his crammed-full adventurer’s pack, so the cave was more cluttered than it had ever been.
“I have an idea,” Earl said after he finished cleaning. “Let’s eat in Cliffmount tonight. It will be just like our visits to Bodaburg.”
“I’d rather steal food and eat in the cave,” Dagdron said.
“We are not stealing any more food. I’ll pay for dinner.”
“I’ve never paid for anything in Cliffmount, and I’m not going to start now.”
“That’s unnecessary. My parents gave me plenty of gold coins. They’ll last us all summer and probably until the Winter Carnival.”
“We’ll steal food so you can use your coins to buy a new sword.”
“Yeah, right.” Earl smiled, unsheathing his sword. Before last year, Earl had often talked about the different swords he desired. However, Wendahl, an old farmer-enchanter from Coastdale, had magically enchanted Earl’s sword and Dagdron’s dagger, so now Earl treated his sword as an even more prized possession. Enchanted weapons were extremely rare, and Earl knew how lucky he was to have one.
When evening rolled around, Dagdron and Earl walked down the steep, rocky gully to the village. As Earl had done all week, he looked around with excited eyes at the scenery, buildings, and people. Dagdron, even having grown up in Cliffmount, had never seen as much of the village as he had during the past week. Earl loved taking in everything about a place and culture no matter where he went.
“I’m so glad I’ve been able to spend a full week here this time,” Earl commented. “Last year Rance, Kas, and Wally chased us out of here before I got to see anything. Where do you think they are, by the way?”
“I don’t know.”
The last they had seen of the three enchanters was when they had been lying in wait in Dagdron and Earl’s bedroom at the Adventurers’ Academy. The boys had been hit by numerous spells but had gotten away without being seriously harmed, as many second-year students had joined forces to scare the enchanters off.
“Do you think they’ll come back to Cliffmount?”
“I don’t know,” Dagdron said again.
“I bet they don’t even know that we created the third Arch of Avooblis in the shrine. They’re probably off searching for the third crystal.”
“Ask my dad if he ever gets back.”
Dugan had left for Broodavia in May to seek out information about the castle that Byron Fortigroff was planning on building at Central Crossing. Over the past two years, Dagdron and Earl had been assisting Elloriana Loftloomburg, the princess of Lordavia, in finding out what Byron was really up to. They had finally discovered the plans about the new city in the central location where the major roads crisscrossed. While the accepted decrees forbade any building at Central Crossing, Dagdron and Earl had overheard Byron talking about a mysterious supporter who was supposedly powerful enough to magically establish the city. Dugan was supposed to have returned to Cliffmount at the start of the summer, but Dagdron hadn’t heard any news from him or about him.
“I hope your dad’s all right,” Earl said.
“Who cares?” Dagdron shrugged.
Earl led Dagdron to the Rocky Cliff Inn, a simple wooden building with two floors. Cliffmount was so far north that, even during the summer, few travelers visited. The local inn was one of the few places outsiders could order a meal.
The dining portion of the establishment was nothing more than a few wooden tables. Dagdron and Earl took a seat at one of them. Two male villagers were eating at another table, but no one else was in sight. Eventually the scruffy owner appeared through a swinging door from the back of the inn, surprised to find two additional diners. Earl looked as if he expected the owner to greet Dagdron with familiarity, but he was disappointed, as their orders were taken with nothing more than a greeting grunt.
“You’ve never been here before?” Earl said.
“You know I don’t come to the village. Me and my dad were hiding out. Remember?”
“You didn’t know that until a few months ago, and I still thought you would’ve taken some interest in the history and locals of Cliffmount.”
Dagdron stared expressionlessly at Earl until the subject was dropped.
The innkeeper brought back their dinner of meat, potatoes, and carrots. Disappointment filled Earl’s face as he took his first bites. The meat was tough and the potatoes and carrots were still hard.
“One of the things I love about being an adventurer is sampling the different cuisines all over the land. Cliffmount’s is very unusual,” Earl said, always the optimist.
Dagdron, who was having trouble even sticking his dagger into the potatoes, glared at him. “This isn’t Cliffmount cuisine. It’s undercooked food. If I’m going to have to eat food like this, there’s no way I’m going to be an adventurer.”
Earl spoke about the glories of being an adventurer for the rest of the meal as both boys sawed their meat and vegetables before eating them. They left the inn still feeling hungry and walked the streets of Cliffmount until darkness began to fall. On their way up the trail, not only Dagdron but Earl too caught the sound of footsteps behind them. At the top of the incline, the rogue and warrior whipped around, drawing their weapons.
“Please, don’t slice me with your dagger,” the blond springy-haired man said. He was holding a piece of parchment in his hands.
“Jinxy!” Earl said, brightening up at the opportunity to converse with a local of Cliffmount. Jinxy was the owner of the bauble emporium in town that fronted for his magic shop. He had been the one who had taught Dagdron’s dad the little magic he knew. Last summer, Rance had attacked Dagdron, Earl, and Dugan in the emporium, destroying half of Jinxy’s baubles. “How’s your bauble emporium? I’m sorry so many of them got shattered last year.”
“No need to worry. I restored my shop to tip-top shape and replaced most of the baubles that were destroyed,” Jinxy answered.
“Why did you follow us?” Dagdron asked.
“I’m sorry to bring you bad news,” Jinxy said, twitching the parchment in his hands. “But I received a message from your dad.”
Earl’s mouth opened with happiness, and Dagdron darted forward, snatching the note. The letter explained that Dugan had found a lead about Byron’s mystery Backer and that he was going to try to get more information. He thought he would be back in a week’s time. The cave having no address, he had sent the note to Jinxy.
“That’s great news, Dagdron,” Earl said.
“It’s not,” Dagdron said, pointing to the date on the letter. “Mail doesn’t always get delivered to Cliffmount on time. My dad wrote this at the end of May.”
“I’m sorry,” Jinxy said.
“Don’t be,” Dagdron said. “Who cares what happens to him?”
Jinxy watched warily as Dagdron shredded the note with his dagger, hoping the same fate didn’t await the deliverer.
“Well, let me know if you need anything.” Jinxy and his wild hair disappeared into the night.
“It doesn’t mean he’s in trouble,” Earl said, trying to cheer Dagdron up as they climbed the cliffs to get into the cave. “He could be on to something, so he extended his stay in Broodavia.”
Dagdron didn’t say anything until they were back in the cave and the fire was lit. He slipped off his hood and stared expectantly at Earl.
“Start packing,” Dagdron said impatiently.
“You’re kicking me out? We’ve been having such a good time.”
“No.”
“Then why should I pack?”
“Because we’re leaving for Broodavia as soon as you’re done.”
Chapter 2: Boulder Castle
Dagdron and Earl left that same night, walking in the darkness a couple of hours before finding a place to camp. Earl insisted they take the safe route of heading to Central Crossing first and then on to Broodavia. Dagdron wanted to head straight south, telling Earl that an adventurer couldn’t always take a secure path, but Earl wouldn’t relent.
As they made their way to Central Crossing over the following days, Earl carried on with his warrior practice, swinging his sword in a variety of movements and cadences. At other times, he charged to the right or left, arcing his weapon in a mighty warrior’s attack.
Dagdron remained silent and stone faced, but he was surprised at Earl’s perseverance. Earl had lectured him many times on the importance of their final year at the academy, Dagdron recalled all too easily, but he hadn’t realized his warrior companion was going to practice in an even more gung-ho fashion than he had over the past two years.
The good news, Dagdron hoped, was that he could travel without Earl talking his ear off. Unfortunately, that turned out not to be the case. Even while swinging his sword hour after hour, Earl found enough breath to talk and talk and talk. When he wasn’t speculating about what information Dagdron’s father had uncovered and how they were going to find him once they reached Broodavia, Earl talked about the glorious days they were bound to have during their third year at the academy. And, when Dagdron didn’t reply to anything he said, Earl took to comforting him about not knowing what had happened to his father.
“I don’t care about my dad,” Dagdron assured Earl each time he brought it up. “If he wasn’t a good enough rogue, that’s his problem, but we still need to find out the information about Byron’s Backer. The wench will be bugging us nonstop if we don’t.”
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