Dagdron, recalling his previous jump when he gathered the spittle, decided not to hesitate at all. He leapt down, landing roughly on the spumasaur’s back. Careful not to get burned by the spit, Dagdron slipped the rope around the creature’s neck, holding both ends as a harness.
The spumasaur didn’t immediately react to the weight on his back, but Dagdron kept twisting the rope and kicking his feet into the lizard’s sides. The twisting and bucking of the spumasaur increased, but its focus remained on guarding the hole. Dagdron persisted in trying to goad the creature to leave its post, putting more and more pressure on top of it. When the spumasaur finally bolted, Dagdron barely managed to hold the rope as the velocity forced him to lean backward. Earl and Lita cheered as he passed, disappearing among the trees.
Now that he had the spumasaur moving, Dagdron decided it was time to figure out how to make it stop. Before he had to make a decision, Egon rushed in from the side, body checked Dagdron off his mount, and seated himself on the back of the spumasaur, his arms wrapped around the neck.
“I’ve got this covered. Go,” Egon called.
Dagdron, who had somersaulted to soften his crash landing, jumped back to his feet. His left arm and shoulder ached from where Egon had bashed him, but he sprinted back to the ruins.
Earl was crouched, judging how to best go through the hole. Lita and Elloriana were watching him, with the occasional glance behind them, checking if the spumasaur by chance was coming back.
“Where’s the spumasaur?” Elloriana asked.
“Egon has it,” Dagdron said, slipping past the girls and Earl. The rogue ducked and went straight into the opening.
“Egon’s here?” Earl said, sticking his head in after his friend.
Dagdron groped around as Earl’s warrior’s body stopped up the light from the opening. As soon as Earl was through, he stood up, hitting his head on the low ceiling.
“Ouch,” he exclaimed. “I forgot how short Mazannanan was.”
Lita, struggling to fit, squeezed through as Earl lit a torch he had brought. Elloriana crawled in after them, covering her nose. The torchlight lit up the inner room of the dwelling, showing the jagged ceiling where the crumbled stones jutted down. Earl, Lita, and Elloriana had to duck so as not to bonk their heads. Patches of grass still grew inside, but the spumasaur’s constant spittle had burned the main body of it, leaving scorch marks and a smoky stench that mixed with the dung smell from the droppings that riddled the floor.
“Gross. This is worse than the alleyway,” Elloriana said.
Dagdron was on the other side of the room, where he had located a hole that led into the back chamber of the old dwelling.
“Be careful, Dagdron,” Earl said as Dagdron crouched down by the gap.
Even for Dagdron’s small frame, it was a tight fit. He squeezed his arms and head through first, then wiggled the rest of his body through.
“Do you see anything?” Earl asked, leaning his head down to look through the hole.
“I need the torch,” Dagdron said.
Earl carefully pushed the torch through the gap to his friend. The inner chamber was more crumbled than the first, Dagdron saw. Rocks and slabs that had once structured the dwelling now packed the room from floor to ceiling, only allowing passage through jagged crevices.
“What’s in there?” Earl asked, this time sticking his head completely through.
Dagdron ignored him and set off, slipping through the spaces of the ruins, searching the floor, walls, and cracks for any sign of a hiding place or treasure. After close to ten minutes of searching and ignoring Earl’s questions, Dagdron moved back over by the gap.
“I can’t see anything. The wench is going to have to cast a detection spell,” Dagdron said.
Earl’s head disappeared and was replaced by Elloriana’s.
“Does it smell any better in here?” she mumbled.
She struggled to make any headway through the hole, so she glared up at Dagdron.
“Will you help me?” she asked, scoffing.
Dagdron set the torch down particularly close to Elloriana’s head, grabbed her hands, and tugged her through the hole. The enchantress stood up as straight as she could, huffing as she brushed off the front of her robe.
Once she had composed herself, Elloriana lifted both hands in front of her, casting a detect magic spell. Her hands glowed blue, and a similar glimmer shone through the rubble.
Dagdron, the torch in hand again, slipped his way through the ruins, following the path he had seen the glow come from.
“Cast it again,” Dagdron called.
Elloriana cast another detection spell, and this time Dagdron saw the glow just to the left of him. He squeezed through one last crevice into a cramped space by one corner of the room just as a small, square box disappeared along with the blue light.
“One more time,” Dagdron called.
Dagdron crouched in the corner, ready for the box to appear. As soon as he was bathed in blue light, he grabbed at the box, but it wouldn’t budge. He took out his dagger, trying to pry it open, but to no avail.
“Again,” Dagdron yelled as the box disappeared.
This time when the box appeared, blue writing appeared on top of it, spelling out the words as an eerie voice spoke.
“Who am I?”
“Mazannanan,” Dagdron said without thinking about it.
A lock appeared on the front of the box, and Dagdron whipped out his lock pick in an instant. He jiggled his pick around, feeling the lock click easily, and flicked the lid up. Before he could see the contents, a boom sounded, causing all of the ruins to shake, and then a dark blue blast shot from the box, launching Dagdron backward. He crashed into the rubble, feeling the pain of jagged stone rip his cloak and cut into his back. Dagdron heard Elloriana scream and Earl yell as he slid back to the ground. The old dwelling continued to rumble, and then the stones began to collapse.
Chapter 11: Treasure Quest
Even with the slabs of stone crumbling downward and the dirt and dust swirling upward, Dagdron’s rogue instincts kicked in. He rushed to the corner and climbed, wedging himself in with a hand and foot on both walls that created the angle. He ducked, feeling the walls tremble and dirt fall over his head, but the brunt of the cave-in was happening where the already-ruined stones were shifting and crumbling more.
When the tumultuous noise ceased, Dagdron dropped from the corner, his ankles twisting as they landed on uneven rocks. The torch had been snuffed and buried, and Dagdron knew he had been barricaded in the corner, because he was in pitch darkness. He felt blindly with his hands, feeling the wall of piled rubble in front of him. With no other option, Dagdron turned toward the wall, groping for the box he had opened. He felt rock after rock until his hands found a dirt area, where the box was still sitting safely, having been protected by magical means, Dagdron figured.
Dagdron picked the box up without a problem this time. He opened the lid again, this time with no disaster. He hoped Mazannanan had left something very valuable, but the only item the rogue felt was a rolled-up scroll. He sat down and pulled his dagger out, thankful to have it as a companion. He figured Earl, Lita, and Elloriana, if they hadn’t been crushed, would eventually come for him so, in the meantime, he relaxed, running his finger along his blade.
Even Dagdron was surprised at how quickly he heard the heaving of rocks and Earl’s shouts.
“Dagdron! Dagdron! Dagdron!” Earl bellowed.
A small hole opened in the rubble near the ceiling, and half of Earl’s face appeared.
“Are you in there?” Earl yelled, not able to see into the dark. “Answer me, Dagdron!”
“I’m right here,” Dagdron said. He stood up, stashed his dagger, and carried the box as he climbed the rubble to the hole.
“Oh, Dagdron,” Earl said. “I was so worried about you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had been buried alive.” He stuck a hand through the opening, groping Dagdron’s face.
“Earl, get me
out of here,” Dagdron said, pushing his hand away.
Earl set to work again, throwing stones with mighty heaves, until the space was just wide enough for Dagdron to slip through. Elloriana was on the other side, maintaining flame spells from both hands to give light. Earl hugged Dagdron tightly as soon as he was on the other side.
“We were so worried,” the young warrior said. “Elloriana barely made it back into the entrance chamber, and we had to clear out so many rocks. Lita couldn’t fit through, so I had to move all of them myself while Elloriana lit up the chamber.”
Dagdron jabbed Earl in the side with his dagger, and he and Earl joined Elloriana by the opening. She ducked back through first, and then Earl got down on his knees but couldn’t seem to fit through.
“How did you get through the first time?” Dagdron asked, pushing Earl forward.
“It was a miracle,” Earl said, twisting his head to look at Dagdron. “I was filled with so much adrenaline that I flew right through the hole.”
“Fly back through, then,” Dagdron said.
Earl turned back and, with Dagdron pushing him from behind, forced his bulk through the opening. Dagdron slipped through after, careful with the box and with the cut on his back. The four adventurers exited the ruins into the sunny afternoon outside.
“You look terrible, Dagdron,” Earl said, brushing off Dagdron’s cloak and hair. “You’ll have to get a new cloak now.”
“Ouch, Earl,” Dagdron said, whipping out his dagger as Earl patted dirt off his back. “My back is sliced, and I don’t need a new cloak.”
“Sorry,” Earl said, giving one last wipe to Dagdron’s shoulders.
Before Dagdron could stab Earl, a wild and carefree yell resounded from the forest to the south. They turned to watch as Egon, astride the spumasaur, charged toward them. The ancient warrior was whooping as he swung his sword above his head.
The four young adventurers darted out of the way. When the spumasaur neared the old abode, Egon dove from its back, somersaulting on the ground before jumping back to his feet. The purple lizard skidded to a stop, turned around, and bolted toward the old warrior. Egon, having expected the spumasaur to contentedly remain at its guard post, was taken by surprise. He turned tail and crashed into the forest.
Dagdron, Earl, Elloriana, and Lita had watched from a short and what they thought was a safe distance. But when they saw the spumasaur was now on the loose, they ran away themselves.
“Let’s get back to Bodaburg,” Elloriana said. “We can’t let the headmaster know we were gone. Chesna can help heal Dagdron.”
Dagdron didn’t like the idea but saw the logic in Elloriana’s thinking, so they hurried as fast as they could. Most of the academy students, though wrapping up their dealings, were still in the village, so Elloriana led the way to the magic shop. The eyeball on the sign above the porch blinked rapidly as they opened the door.
As Elloriana gave a quick and rather weak explanation, Dagdron thought, to Chesna about why they were all covered in dirt and dust, and why Dagdron had a large cut on his back, the rogue shoved the box into Earl’s arms.
Dagdron had always seen Chesna maintain a mellow countenance. And this time, the auburn-haired enchantress was no exception, even though she gazed at Dagdron with her green eyes for longer than normal. She motioned for the rogue to take a seat and instructed Elloriana on how to make a proper healing ointment. Earl handed the wooden box to Lita and took the opportunity to rub the dirt marks off Dagdron’s face.
When the healing balm was prepared, Earl took the brush from Elloriana and lathered the paste on Dagdron’s back. As soon as Earl was finished, Dagdron stood up, took the box from Lita, and left the shop.
“Thank you so much, Chesna,” Elloriana said. “We’re sorry Dagdron’s so rude.”
“I understand the rogue ways,” Chesna said. “Discourteous as they may be.”
Earl, Elloriana, and Lita hurried out the door, catching sight of Dagdron heading down the street. They caught up to him just as he slipped into Grizzard’s alleyway. They followed him to the back, where Grizzard greeted them with a cackle, but then the ragged rogue just watched as Dagdron opened the box and took out the scroll he had felt while in the darkness of the old dwelling.
Even though it was hundreds of years old, the parchment had been well preserved because of its magical protection and unrolled with ease. Dagdron began by reading silently to himself, but Earl, Lita, and Elloriana appeared ready to snatch the scroll away from him. Deciding it was better not to risk tearing the scroll, Dagdron turned so the others could see, and Earl read aloud.
“To him who learned my name and found my scroll,
I grant a clue to lead, guide, test, and toll.
If found worthy by ancient and adventurous measure,
My assistance will be bestowed with abundant pleasure.
One trial at a time without treading amiss,
Will impart to you the deepness of Avooblis.
Together you and I will walk abreast,
But only upon fulfillment of my treasure quest.
The arch symbol will set you forth,
Now hunt and search to the north.”
Dagdron, Earl, Elloriana, and Lita were silent as they reread the scroll, but Grizzard was watching them with his gleeful, almost toothless smile.
“Oh, yeah, sonny, rich sonny, and friends,” Grizzard said, cackling. “Looks like you’ve got a treasure quest. Now that’s the life.”
Chapter 12: Name & Sign
Over the last two weeks of September, Dagdron and Earl kept a tight watch on Byron, Landon, and Gordon. Earl, in spite of having to withstand more ridicule from them, stayed close to the three warriors during their classes, keeping his ear open for anything they might say to each other. Dagdron, being free after fulfilling his mini-quest each day, took a more active approach, sneaking into Landon and Gordon’s room on the third floor and Byron’s on the fourth floor while the other students were still in class. The only item of interest Dagdron found in either room was a crude map in Byron’s, which led directly to Mazannanan’s old dwelling.
“That confirms Byron, Landon, and Gordon know about the Arches of Avooblis,” Earl said when Dagdron showed him the map. “But why didn’t Headmaster Gwauldron or Rance retrieve Mazannanan’s box years ago? They had to have searched the ruins around the area some time or another. And their magic is certainly powerful enough to have detected the box. Magic users must be really scared of spumasaurs.”
“They didn’t know Mazannanan’s name,” Dagdron said.
“One of Mazannanan’s old tricks,” Earl said. “I bet any enchanter searching for the arches would have said Avooblis as the name, when he was really asking for his own name.”
“Did the headmaster know Mazannanan’s name?” Dagdron asked.
“I don’t think so,” Earl said. “Headmaster Gwauldron slammed the book on him when he wouldn’t tell him in the shrine last year.”
“We need to keep up our searches for the Backer,” Dagdron said. “The headmaster had to have known about the magic there, and once he sees the cave-in, he’s going to know we were there.”
“Maybe we can say we followed the Backer there. That way the headmaster won’t be suspicious of us.”
“We still need to go out in the forest at night,” Dagdron said.
“I know, but the girls are scared with the spumasaur on the loose.” Earl glanced at his sword.
“Who cares about your sword?” Over the past couple of weeks, their searches had been limited to very close proximity to the academy. Dagdron knew that was because Earl and Lita were afraid of being surprised by the spumasaur and having their magical swords corroded by the acidic spittle. “If we don’t, the headmaster and the Backer are going to know we’re up to something when we head up the mountain to search for Mazannanan’s treasure.”
“I’ve told you you’re right,” Earl said, somewhat sheepishly. “I thought we could wait until Wendahl comes north, but we’ll extend our se
arches. It’s nice to see you taking the initiative on the quest.”
Dagdron darted from their bedroom before Earl could say anything else regarding adventuring.
Down in the classroom tower, Dagdron found Cort waiting nervously before entering the room containing his mini-quest. The small-framed rogue had bandages on his arms and legs from where he had been spiked over the first month of class. As was the custom, Cort made an effort at conversation, but Dagdron made a couple quick replies before entering his room for the day.
Dagdron hadn’t let on to Earl how much he had been enjoying his classes. While Scar’s gauntlet and other activities had been fun during his first year at the academy, and the noiseless teacher’s dagger dodging had been frighteningly exciting, Dagdron actually found himself looking forward to his mini-quest each day. It was like playing around the cliffs at Cliffmount, except with a purpose. Dagdron missed the boulder-filled terrain of his home, but instead of choosing his own targets or jumps, the mini-quests provided a thrilling anticipation of the unknown that the young rogue took pleasure in.
Throughout September, the quests had consisted of crossing the room by jumping between the wooden stands. Each time, the arrangement was different, forcing Dagdron to consider his leaping ability and consider which route was best to take without falling on the ever-present spikes that covered the room. And, without variation, each time he reached the pouch, the room changed behind him, obligating him to use his rogue skills to return.
Today, though, the layout of the room was completely different. Narrow wooden shelves had been built at different heights along the wall and a complex network of ropes crisscrossed the room. Instead of spikes, thornier bushes than Dagdron had seen in the gorge by Thornrim covered the floor. The one similar object was a pouch that rested on a small wooden table in the far corner.
The Howl of Avooblis Page 11
