The Shrine of Avooblis Page 3

  “A lot.” Earl kept talking excitedly as the two boys headed to the diagonal path that led to the southwest from Central Crossing.

  The road to Coastdale was much different than their trek from Cliffmount. The land, being much greener and hillier, gave Earl much more to remark about. While the lively landscape allowed Dagdron, who was tired of eating Earl’s food rations, to retrieve fruit and vegetables from the farms they passed, they also had to deal with much more traffic. More caravans and travelers frequented the southern roads because there were more villages along the route. They saw a few enchanters but none of them were Rance, Kas, or Wally, and Earl recognized two of them as Adventurers’ Academy alumni, whom he had heard about.

  Also, true to his word, Earl read from his adventurer’s handbook each day, loudly enough so Dagdron could hear. Dagdron, though forced to listen against his will, had fun walking faster and then slowing down, trying to make Earl lose his place. The only break Dagdron received from the readings was when Earl took a respite to explain the facts he knew about the towns and villages they passed.

  All in all, in the middle of July, they arrived at the boundaries of Coastdale tired, but with Earl’s pack being much lighter and, as the young warrior put it, “with a lot more knowledge about what it takes to be an adventurer.”

  “Let’s find some food,” Dagdron replied before Earl could launch into a spiel about what skills they had acquired while reading and walking to Coastdale.

  “Don’t just go stealing around here,” Earl said. “It’s one thing to steal from farms and be on our way. We don’t know how long we’re going to be here and, if it is dangerous like your dad said, we don’t want to bring any attention to ourselves.”

  “I won’t get caught,” Dagdron said.

  Earl ripped Dagdron’s hood from his head in response. “Don’t forget what the Creed of Honor says.”

  “We don’t have to follow the creed while we’re not at the academy.”

  “We most certainly do to. An adventurer never takes a break from the Creed of Honor!”

  The boys felt the sea breeze blowing softly in their faces as they passed the farm plots lining both sides of the the pathway. Coastdale had no main section of town, Dagdron and Earl saw. There were croplands in all directions with farms and barns close by the fields. Although Dagdron had been in agreement that they shouldn’t bring attention to themselves, he quickly realized that it was impossible not to. After they had passed the last town, they hadn’t seen a single traveler on the road, which made their arrival in Coastdale quite obvious. All the farmers working in the cooler afternoon temperature, paused, leaning against their farm tools to watch the visitors and wave as they passed. And, from the farmhouses, the women took a break from cooking to poke their heads out the window.

  “It’s so true what they say about Coastdale,” Earl said. “It’s definitely the most peaceful village in all the land.”

  “You mean the nosiest?” Dagdron said.

  “They’re friendly, not nosy.” Earl made sure to wave back to each farmer who greeted them.

  Dagdron, more concerned with making dinner plans, evaluated the farms as they passed. An old man was working in one of the last fields. He leaned against his hoe, wiping his brow with a handkerchief before waving it in salutation. His crops were much healthier than any of the other farms, Dagdron noticed, so he made a mental note to return there as soon as it was dark.

  When the trail came to the crest overlooking the seashore, Earl let out an audible gasp. Dagdron didn’t say anything but admitted to himself that the view was beautiful. The path gently descended the dale, plateauing every so often, where grasslands with pink and yellow flowers extended to the right and left. Dainty houses were built along these flat areas, overlooking the white sandy shoreline below in the distance. The coast curved on both sides, creating a bay of turquoise clear water. Pastel-colored beach houses of all sizes had been built, not only all around the bay, but also into the hillsides, some toward the top, some toward the bottom. Wooden staircases led to each house, high and low.

  “I can definitely see you growing up here,” Earl said, breaking the silence.

  “I didn’t grow up here,” Dagdron said.

  “I just meant I can visualize you here as a child.”

  Dagdron started down the path with Earl right behind, waving to the inhabitants who watched them from the petite houses. The men of Coastdale wore tropical shirts while the women wore loose, bright-colored dresses of blue, green, yellow, or pink. When they reached the shore, they walked along the sand until Earl spotted a tiny sign at the base of one of the staircases, advertising a house for rent. The stairs led to two buildings, the upper one was yellow, the lower blue.

  “We should stay in this guesthouse,” Earl said.

  “Why waste money? The sand is soft enough to sleep on.”

  “We don’t want the locals thinking we’re riffraff. We have to blend in.”

  Dagdron shrugged and followed Earl up the staircase. On the way, a middle-aged woman with auburn hair and wearing a colorful dress stuck her head out of the window of the blue house.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  “We’d like to rent the guesthouse,” Earl said, pointing upward.

  “The guesthouse?”

  “Yes, we’re in Coastdale for a few days and need a place to sleep.”

  “Oh.” The woman disappeared and came out the front door. “We get so few visitors in Coastdale the house isn’t exactly ready, but you’re still welcome to stay there. I don’t have any food for you either, but the price won’t be much.”

  “Why don’t people come here?” Earl asked. “The village is so beautiful along the beach.”

  “We’re too far away for most people,” the woman replied. “Most head north to Lordavia or Broodavia. We get the occasional adventurer, but that’s about it. Ask anyone in Coastdale and they’ll tell you that we’re fine with it. People who live in Coastdale like the solitary life of tranquility.”

  The woman led them up the stairs and opened the front door of the yellow house.

  “You’re welcome to the whole house. The beds are made, but I haven’t dusted for months. To be honest, I put up the sign when my parents passed away just to do something with the place, but there have only been a handful of visitors in years, so I don’t do much with it.”

  “It’s perfect,” Earl said. He pulled out his coin pouch and counted some out for the woman.

  “Thank you. My name’s Martha, by the way. You can still let me know if you need anything, but you’ll have to get food from one of the farmers up above.”

  Dagdron and Earl explored the house once Martha left. It was completely furnished, like she said, with table and chairs in the kitchen, a couch in the living area, and there were two small bedrooms. But, as she had said as well, the entire house was covered with a layer of dust.

  “Isn’t this exciting?” Earl said as he opened the curtains in the living room so they could look at the sea. “This is exactly what going on quests will be like.”

  “You’re right,” Dagdron said. “I’ll be back in a little bit. I’m going to get us some food.”

  “We are not splitting up while we’re here,” Earl said, rushing out the door after Dagdron. “And I know you’re not planning to honestly purchase food.”

  They took the stairs back to the beach, and then climbed the trail to the top of the dale. Dagdron immediately headed in the direction of the old man’s farm they had passed earlier.

  “Dagdron, I know you have plenty of money from last year. Why don’t we just buy the food?” Earl said.

  “Because I have to save my coins to support your Bodaburg Tavern eating habits when we get back to the academy.”

  “We can afford food for a few days. When we get to Lordavia, all our food will be provided for us. And I’d like to see if one of the residents has clothes for sale. My mom would love one of the dresses I saw the women wearing on the way down to the beach. I’ve
never seen anything like them in Lordavia, but one of the bright green dresses would be perfect for her.”

  “That’s what Coastdale wants,” Dagdron remarked. “Richies from Lordavia coming to buy clothes.”

  “I wouldn’t tell her where I bought it,” Earl said.

  Dagdron went right into the old man’s crops, so Earl followed. Dagdron collected ears of corn, carrots, and even a couple of squash. He handed Earl the squash when he came across a watermelon patch. Earl took the stolen vegetables with a frustrated look but, once Dagdron grabbed a plump watermelon, the boys headed back to the seashore.

  Martha didn’t pay any attention to them as they arrived at the house. Dagdron was ready to eat the vegetables raw, but Earl insisted on cooking them. He found a large pot in the kitchen and, after cutting up the carrots and squash, boiled them and the corn. While Earl prepared dinner, Dagdron used his dagger to slice open the watermelon.

  “I knew that old guy’s farm looked good. All his crops are so much better than the ones we found on the way here,” Dagdron said as he lifted a piece of watermelon to his mouth.

  “At least you can be optimistic about stealing unnecessarily,” Earl said. “It’s nice to hear positive words coming out of your mouth.”

  Earl set the table while the vegetables cooked. Dagdron, amused, watched him as he put a fork and knife out for him as well.

  “Can’t you at least try to use a fork?” Earl asked when they sat down to eat.

  “My dagger works just fine,” Dagdron replied.

  Dagdron ate in silence as Earl gave his usual recap of what they had accomplished that day, and then started on their plans for the following morning.

  “Someone’s bound to remember your dad,” Earl said. “We’ll have to ask around.”

  The young warrior was about to explain an adventurer’s systematic approach to gathering information from locals, when the front door of the house burst opened, banging against the wall.

  Dagdron flicked the piece of carrot off his dagger as he brandished it. Earl, drawing his sword, stood from the table and turned around. The old farmer, his thin, wispy gray hair standing up and now wearing a bright magenta enchanter’s robe, appeared, holding his hoe as if it was a staff, which was very fitting since the blade of the tool was glowing magenta.

  “I remember your father,” the farmer-enchanter said. “While I don’t think he ever stole from me, I have always wondered if the Obor child would return to Coastdale.”

  Chapter 4: Wendahl

  “We’ll pay you every coin we owe you,” Earl said as the old man strode through the door.

  “We’re not paying,” Dagdron said. “We didn’t get these from his garden.”

  “The Obors I knew weren’t thieves and weren’t liars,” the old farmer said. “But, what should I expect from a rogue who attends Gwydion Gwauldron’s academy?”

  “How did you know who Dagdron was?” Earl asked.

  “Stop confirming things,” Dagdron said.

  “Very few visitors come to Coastdale so, as I’m sure you noticed, everyone who lives here gawks at anyone who comes to town. When you walked by my farm earlier, I thought the young rogue had a particular resemblance to Dugan Obor. Then, when I spied you stealing from my garden, I was sure of it.”

  Dagdron, feeling exposed at having someone know so much about him, didn’t like the direction the conversation was going, so he snatched up two ears of corn.

  “You’re going to attack me with corn?” the old man said.

  “Yes,” Dagdron said, flinging the corn at the old man. “Run, Earl!”

  Earl joined Dagdron in racing toward the door as the farmer ducked. The two boys easily passed the old man, but then he shouted after them.

  “I didn’t come here to attack you! I came here to tell you about the Arches of Avooblis!”

  Earl and Dagdron skidded on the porch, stopping their momentum by grabbing the wooden railing.

  “What did you say?” Earl asked.

  “I’m here to tell you about the Arches of Avooblis,” the old man said. “Isn’t that why you showed up here? And if you’re going to steal, you might was well have the decency not to waste any food.” The enchanter bent down to retrieve the ears of corn before walking to the kitchen to wash them in the sink.

  Earl cast a quick glance at Dagdron, wondering what they should do. Dagdron shrugged his shoulders and went back in the house.

  “Why did you blast open the door, then?” Earl asked. “You scared me out of my wits.”

  “Sorry about that,” the man said. “My magical hoe is a little temperamental. I was actually just trying to unlock the door.”

  “And why did you reveal so sinisterly that you knew Dagdron’s last name was Obor? That was really creepy too.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I have a love for making grand entrances, and thought announcing that I knew you had stolen from me and that I knew who Dagdron was would make for a tremendous entrance.”

  Dagdron had already sat back down and was eating more watermelon. Earl had returned more cautiously, but took a seat as the farmer placed the corn on the table.

  “My name is Wendahl by the way,” the man said. He leaned his hoe against the wall and joined the boys at the table.

  “I’m Earl.”

  Earl and Wendahl shook hands but, Dagdron, his name already known, kept eating without caring for a formal introduction.

  “You grow some of the finest vegetables I’ve ever tasted,” Earl said, crunching a row on an ear of corn.

  “Don’t mention it,” Wendahl said with a wave of his hand.

  “I’m serious,” Earl said.

  “I know but, seriously, don’t mention it,” Wendahl said. “A lot of the other Coastdale farmers are already suspicious of me. That’s why I saw you stealing. I was lying in wait to see if some of my neighbors came to sneak a peek at my crops.”

  “Why would they be suspicious of you?”

  “They don’t know about my nightlife.” This time Dagdron looked toward Wendahl as well, as the enchanter indicated with both hands to his robe. “During the day, I am the old man on the farm, but at night, I put on my enchanter’s garb and have a little fun.”

  “People in Coastdale don’t like enchanters?” Earl asked.

  “They don’t mind them. We have the occasional magic-user adventurers who vacation here. It has more to do with how jealous they are of my crops. You see, they don’t know about my hoe over there.”

  “What is it?” Dagdron asked, finally curious.

  “A magical hoe. It encourages my crops to grow a little better.” Wendahl smiled giddily. “I can cast other spells with it, but not always in a very controlled manner. Hopefully Martha doesn’t charge you for the broken door.”

  “Where did you get a magical hoe?” Earl asked.

  “I enchanted it myself,” Wendahl replied proudly.

  “Are you serious?” Earl said. Wendahl nodded and Earl’s mouth dropped open. “Wow. Can you believe that, Dagdron? Only powerful enchanters can make objects and weapons magical. They’re extremely rare.”

  “Are you going to tell us about the Arches of Avooblis or not?” Dagdron said.

  “I’m not so much going to tell you as I’m going to show you,” Wendahl replied. When both Dagdron and Earl looked confused, he continued. “You’ll see what I mean. We’d best hurry because I can tell the young rogue is getting impatient.” Wendahl winked at Earl.

  Dagdron, having had enough of Earl and Wendahl’s conversation, wiped the juice off his dagger onto his cloak, but left it in hand pointing in Wendahl’s direction. The warrior and enchanter finished their meal, and the three headed out the door. Dagdron and Earl were ready to turn to the right and head up to the farmlands, but Wendahl signaled to the left.

  “Remember? My alter ego lives up at the farm. My true enchanter life lies in this direction.”

  Wendahl used his hoe as a walking stick as they made their way along the sand, the waves lapping at the sho
reline. Earl asked Wendahl more details about Coastdale, but Dagdron walked a few feet apart.

  When they had almost reached where the bay escaped into the sea, Wendahl pointed to a quirky blue house resembling a cuckoo clock. He led them up the wooden staircase to the porch where he pulled on a golden rope with a tasseled end. The two portions of the front door opened like shutters and they went inside.

  The front room was decked out with birdhouses and cuckoo clocks. A spiral staircase led to the upper floor. Earl, fascinated, examined the clocks and houses, but Dagdron sat down at the table, waiting for Wendahl to explain what he knew. Never having visitors, Wendahl recounted to Earl in what villages he had picked up a few of his decorations, but then, seeing Dagdron glaring at both of them under his hood, he walked to a red cuckoo clock, turned the hands to midnight, and the miniature door opened. Instead of bird popping out, a blue sphere appeared and Wendahl grabbed it.

  “Your house sticks out more than any other,” Dagdron said. “How can no one know about it?”

  “Because my house is hidden from anyone I don’t want to see it,” Wendahl answered.

  “Are you hiding from Rance, Kas, and Wally?” Earl asked.

  “Oh, no. I just like my privacy.”

  “Why do you have a farm then?” Dagdron, slowly losing hope that the old man could really give them answers, gave him a look of disbelief.

  “I use the farm to keep watch,” Wendahl said. Knowing the boys would want further explanation he said, “I thought I would see your father eventually, but you showed up instead.”

  “Why my dad?” Dagdron asked bluntly.

  “I thought he, of all people, would want more information about the arch crystals sooner or later.”

  “Why? What does my family have to do with the Arches of Avooblis?” Dagdron said, letting his emotions get the better of him.

  “Your family has nothing to do with them,” Wendahl said.

  “What?” Dagdron and Earl said together.

  “Well, your family had nothing to do with them,” Wendahl said, his eyes showing sympathy when they fell on the rogue.