“I already know you don’t care about your dad,” Earl responded. “That’s why we’re going to uncover what really happened to him. That will prove just how little you care.”
Dagdron, surprised, looked at Earl.
“You’re not the only one who can be sarcastic,” Earl said, fighting not to smile.
“If my dad’s trapped somewhere, we’re going to leave him there,” Dagdron said.
“Stop saying things like that,” Earl said, shaking his head in frustration.
Dagdron put his hood on and focused on speeding up the trek.
They spent a night a Central Crossing, where the enormous grass-covered hillside stood, marking the middle point between Lordavia and Broodavia, the two biggest kingdoms in the land. Numerous other caravans and travelers were camped there, because roads to all parts of the land forked off from the central area. As soon as they arrived, Dagdron led the way up the hill, both boys scrabbling with their hands when they reached the steeper upper portion. Earl, assuming they were just going up there for the view, was surprised when Dagdron scoped out a sleeping spot.
“I don’t know if we’re supposed to camp up here,” Earl said. “I’ve never heard of anyone else doing it.”
“I’m not sleeping down there with all those people,” Dagdron replied.
Earl’s face brightened. “You’ve done it again, Dagdron,” he said. “Someday when the bards are singing songs about our adventures, they’re going to include how we were the first adventurers to camp on the top of Central Crossing Hill.”
“The bards will include how you thrashed so much in your sleep that you rolled down the hill.”
“I do not thrash that much. But it would make a great ode for a performer to sing at the Winter Carnival,” Earl said, putting a positive spin on Dagdron’s comment.
Dagdron and Earl passed a peaceful night, the noise of the caravans only a distant sound below. Dagdron was woken up by a shaking feeling when the morning light was just setting in. At first, he thought the hill was moving, but then he realized it was Earl.
“Wake up, Dagdron,” Earl said, jostling him more.
“What?” Dagdron said, grabbing his dagger and weakly stabbing it at Earl.
The young warrior dodged, jumping back to his feet. “We’re going to watch the sunrise.”
Dagdron, figuring at least they could get an early start, got to his feet and put his cloak on. Earl took him excitedly to the edge of the hill. As Earl loved to do, he struck an adventurer’s pose as the pink and orange sunrise broke across the horizon. Dagdron’s expression remained empty, but Earl’s smile grew wider and wider until the first rays of the sun bathed the two boys.
“This is the life,” Earl said, tilting his head back and giving his blond hair a shake.
“You wanted to spend the day blind?” Dagdron said, putting on his hood to block out the morning light.
“Thanks for doing that with me,” Earl said.
Dagdron furrowed his brow and inconspicuously shifted his head to look at his companion. Earl’s voice hadn’t sounded quite as boisterous as usual, Dagdron thought; it sounded almost…sentimental.
Earl smiled at Dagdron’s concealed face and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder before returning to roll up his pad and repack his bag.
“Broodavia, here we come,” the young warrior said as he strapped his pack on. He nodded to Dagdron and they headed down the hill.
The road to Broodavia was filled with caravans, many carrying fruit and vegetables that had been grown in Lordavia. The farther along the path Dagdron and Earl traveled, the less green they saw, and the more the landscape reverted to looking more like Cliffmount, except the rocks and ground were darker brown.
“Wow,” Earl said when Broodavia loomed in the distance, his mouth opening in a perfect circle.
“Haven’t you been here before?” Dagdron asked.
“Only once, but I was really little. My family took a trip here on one of the few vacations we could afford then.”
The walls of Broodavia were made of boulders stacked together. From the looks of it, there appeared to be nothing holding the stones together, but, nonetheless, they towered upward, creating a mighty fortification around the city. Stone mountains rose as a strong backdrop behind the structures.
Dagdron and Earl joined the flood of travelers entering the city through an archway. Earl was too excited to be overly nervous, but Dagdron did catch him glancing at the Broodavian guards at the entrance. In their quest for the Arch of Avooblis in the first year at the Adventurers’ Academy, Earl had forged a note claiming he was Byron Fortigroff, the son of the king of Broodavia. Although Elloriana had tried to accept the blame, King Fortigroff had demanded that the Valoringtons be stripped of their nobility status. While it wouldn’t be wise for them to be spotted by Byron or the king, Dagdron thought, with the number of people entering and walking the streets, he didn’t think there was much of a chance they would be noticed.
In spite of Earl’s love and loyalty for Lordavia, he was in utter amazement as they walked the streets. Earl, even without knowing his way around, gave Dagdron a tour, comparing and contrasting Lordavia and Broodavia as they explored. The Broodavians had channeled rivers from distant areas, and the water cascaded over the boulder walls, providing the life-giving liquid to the city.
While Lordavia was home to a tropical, colorful atmosphere, associated primarily with the intellect of magic users by citizens throughout the land, Broodavia housed shops and shops of blacksmiths, forging all kinds of weapons, armor, and shields. In place of the robes a typical Lordavian wore, even the common Broodavians garbed themselves in warrior attire as they went about their business.
The vast majority of the wares and trinkets along the streets were made of stone. While they were void of the colorful vegetation and wood that Lordavian products were created with, many were inlaid with gems from the mines Broodavia was famous for. Earl, amazed, commented on how resourceful the vendors were with their products.
Dagdron and Earl found the food situation very dissimilar. The typical food sellers were much more likely to offer beans, rice, vegetables, and plenty of herbs and spices, which were commonly used to season the variety of meat that was sold in the markets. The stony ground prevented the fruits and vegetation so prevalent in Lordavia, which, Dagdron had learned the year before, was one of the principal causes of strife between the two powerful cities.
In general, the houses of Broodavians were much larger. The buildings were structured from the dark brown boulders that were everywhere in this area. The citizens decorated the exteriors and doorways with gems and other deep-toned tapestries and ornaments.
The last stop of their initial tour was at the back of the city, where the giant Boulder Castle was built at the base of the mountainside. Home to King and Queen Fortigroff and the other Broodavian royalty, the castle was an intimidating stronghold, built with boulders stacked upon boulders in a tremendous fortification. The rocks had been chiseled and sculpted until they fit perfectly together and had been adorned with sparkling gems from the mines. Water crashed down on both sides of the castle before running to the plaza in front, where the streams joined in a deep pool. Stone bridges curved over the water, offering pathways to the massive stone doors that served as the entrance to the castle.
“Oh my goodness,” Earl said, leaning his head back as he gazed up at the castle. “It’s daunting and beautiful all at the same time.”
“It’s rock,” Dagdron said.
Earl gave a quick look of disbelief to Dagdron and then led him closer to the pool. They could see the scowling expressions of the stiff guards at the doors, so even Earl didn’t venture closer, but he didn’t lose his amazement.
“Let’s find an inn,” Earl said. “I don’t think we can sleep out in Broodavia.”
Dagdron didn’t dissent, but he was sure he could have found a comfortable alley to spend the night in. He followed Earl back into the city until they found an inn called the Bold
er Boulder. The front of the inn was fashioned out of one humongous round boulder. When they entered, it was like going into a cave, but inside, the inn was brightly lit and well decorated in spite of the stony structure.
The Bolder Boulder was a lively place, dinner already being underway through a doorway to the right. Travelers and locals alike were eating and drinking as they conversed loudly, talking about their days and telling stories. Earl beamed with excitement, but as he turned to tell Dagdron how this is what life would like when they were full-fledged adventurers, his rogue companion strode swiftly to the innkeeper’s stone desk.
Unlike the name of the tavern, the innkeeper was a scrawny man, though still wearing a sword at his waist. The weight made his pants sag, and the man had to hitch them back up every time he moved. His eyes went directly to Earl’s sword as if sizing him up based on his weapon alone.
“How can I assist you?” the innkeeper asked in a squeaky voice.
“We’d like a room if you have one available,” Earl said politely.
“Of course,” the man replied. He fumbled around in a cubbyhole on the other side of the desk, pulling out a key and handing it to Earl. The young warrior took it and paid the man in return. “Breakfast and dinner are served in the tavern. Stay as long as you like; just pay me each morning before you head out for the day.”
Earl thanked the man, and they followed his directions to a stone staircase that led to the second floor of the inn.
“You’ll be right at home,” Earl said in good spirits as he took in their room, which was very similar to a cave. Everything was made of stone, from the shelves to the washbasin to the beds. Pads had been placed on the beds to provide comfort. Dagdron approached the bed closest to the window and yanked off the thin mattress, placing it on top of Earl’s.
“Now I will be,” Dagdron replied.
Earl lay down on his doubled mattress to test it out.
“It’s really comfortable,” he said, bouncing and wiggling.
Dagdron sat down on his rock cot, waiting for Earl to stop playing. Eventually, the warrior sat up and took his adventurer’s handbook from his pack.
“Let’s see what the handbook says about finding people,” Earl said, flipping through it and stopping to read every couple of pages. “The handbook says our best bet is to ask the locals in a casual fashion, building trust before getting more specific. We’ll have to use you as the picture since we don’t have a charcoal drawing. You look so much like your father that should do the trick. And that means you’ll have to have your hood off as we ask the locals if they’ve seen your dad.” Earl closed his adventurer’s handbook and stood up decidedly.
Dagdron, putting his hood on, crossed back to the door. Earl followed him back downstairs.
“Is your room to your expectations?” the innkeeper asked.
“Yes,” Earl said. “It’s perfect.”
“Wonderful. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“We’re looking for someone,” Dagdron said. “Have you seen a rogue in town over the last month with black hair and dark eyes?”
The innkeeper was pensive for a moment but shook his head. “Perhaps if I had more details.”
“He looks like this,” Earl said, tugging Dagdron’s hood from his head.
The innkeeper studied Dagdron’s face but shook his head again.
“Sorry,” he explained. “So many people pass through the inn. I remember a lot of faces, but not a rogue recently.”
Earl thanked the innkeeper, and then he and Dagdron, who left his hood off this time, went to find a seat in the tavern. Dagdron ate the heavily seasoned chunks of beef in silence as Earl slipped himself into conversation with the other diners, trying to build trust before extracting information. Although Earl made a valiant social effort, the only things he received were conversations about swords and armor, and multiple whiffs of fermented breath. They were no more the wiser about Dugan.
“Let’s walk the streets,” Dagdron said when their meal was finished. “My dad might’ve been watching the entrance and seen us, so he’ll contact us.”
“Good idea,” Earl said. “We can walk back toward the castle. I’ve heard on clear nights, all the gems in the boulders twinkle in the moonlight.”
They walked the streets of Broodavia as darkness fell over the city. They kept their eyes open for Dugan, but, because it was a warm summer night, there were still many people out, and they didn’t see any sign of Dagdron’s dad. The only trace of other rogues they saw among the Broodavians were the ones peering from alleyways, waiting for full darkness before they crept about their business.
“I’m sure your dad’s here and safe somewhere,” Earl said comfortingly.
“Who cares?” Dagdron replied.
“You do,” Earl responded, leading his companion in the direction of Boulder Castle.
Everything Earl had heard about the castle was true, both boys realized as they entered the plaza. The gems that had glittered in the sunlight were now twinkling like stars as the moon shone down on the boulders.
“Oh, wow,” Earl said, taking in the scene. The two boys walked to stand on the stone bridge that crossed the left stream.
“This makes a lot more sense,” Dagdron said.
“What?”
“Byron and his family love rocks, but I knew no richies like them would live in a stone castle. Its richiness comes out at night.”
“Don’t start with your talk about wealthy people,” Earl said.
Dagdron was about to continue anyway when, from the other side of the square, yellow lightning spells suddenly shot toward them as a black-cloaked figure stepped to the edge of the darkness. Dagdron was able to draw his dagger, but Earl, his sword taking a moment longer to unsheathe, was hit square in the chest. The force knocked him backward off the bridge, where he was swept by the current under the path and to the deep, central pool.
Dagdron remained on the bridge, dodging the spells until he blocked one of them with his dagger. Although his dagger had been magically enchanted by Wendahl the year before, the spell was so powerful that it knocked Dagdron off balance and sent his dagger clattering to the ground.
The rogue was able to recapture his stability and ran off the bridge. Lightning spells continued to fly at him, but, as he reached his dagger, footsteps thundered across the square. A massively muscular warrior rushed by where Dagdron was crouching. The mystery warrior swung his sword wildly, deflecting each and every one of the lightning balls that had been cast toward him.
The black figure slipped into the darkness and disappeared from sight. The warrior stuck out his hand to help Dagdron up. The rogue was surprised to see that he wasn’t a young, spry warrior; he was gray haired with rough skin. Once Dagdron was on his feet, the warrior ran to the pool, where Earl, still in the water, had watched while clinging to the edge. The warrior hoisted him out of the water and then took a step back, where he kissed the blade of his sword before striking a pose with his hands on his hips and his arm and chest muscles flexed.
Even from across the square, Dagdron saw that Earl, wide eyed, open mouthed, and oblivious to his sopping clothes and body, had found his new hero.
Chapter 3: Egon
As soon as the warrior was done striking his manly pose, he got straight down to business.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“The Bolder Boulder,” Earl replied, dumbstruck.
“Let’s go,” the warrior said. “We need to get you back to safety before the guards come to investigate and before that coward of an enchanter shows back up.”
Without another word, the warrior clutched Earl and Dagdron around the biceps and physically escorted them all the way back to the inn. For being so old, he was still extremely strong.
He released them once they were inside the inn but gesticulated for them to hurry to their room. He followed them, only allowing them to stop once the door to their bedroom was closed and locked.
“Who are you?” Earl asked.
“My name is Egon,” the warrior replied, shaking Earl’s hand. Dagdron ignored the old warrior’s extended hand.
“Who attacked us?” Dagdron said before Earl could break into a speech of admiration.
“I do not know,” Egon replied. “But it appears an evil and very powerful enchanter has made Broodavia his home. I have caught sight of him a few times myself and heard the accounts of others.”
“You look familiar,” Earl said, still gazing at Egon. “Have you ever been to Lordavia?”
“Of course. Many times.”
“Did you ever put on sword shows in Adventurers’ Plaza?”
“Of course not,” Egon said gruffly. “A sword is not used for show. It’s to be used for fighting and protecting. An adventurer such as yourself should know that.”
Earl, not offended by Egon’s bold reaction, beamed even brighter because of the honorable statement from the warrior.
“How did you get an enchanted sword?” Dagdron asked, breaking up the conversation.
Egon studied Dagdron before replying. “I believe the question is, how did you get an enchanted dagger? I’ve been around a long time, and it is perfectly believable that I would have acquired a weapon of rare quality. But for an adventurer so young as yourself, it is another story.”
Dagdron kept his face blank, but Earl’s hand involuntarily shifted to the hilt of his sword.
“Your sword is magically charged as well, I see,” Egon said.
Earl, unable to contain himself, nodded his head with a grin.
“How did you know we were adventurers?” Earl asked.
“A true adventurer can spot other adventurers,” Egon replied.
Earl nodded in total agreement.
“I’m proud of you boys,” the ancient warrior said. “For ones so young, you showed great skill in withstanding the cowardly enchanter’s attack. And it’s smart of you to hold dear the secret of your enchanted weapons.”
The Howl of Avooblis Page 2
