The Shrine of Avooblis Page 7

  The Loftloomburgs had proven prone to extending the royal banquets, but tonight, they quickly used the excuse that they needed a proper night’s rest before their travels. They really just wanted to get him out of the castle, Dagdron knew, but he wasn’t bothered. He was anxious to get to bed as well.

  Earl hummed exuberantly when they went to bed. Dagdron, in his usual spot on the floor, thought Earl might never fall asleep because of how excited he was, but the volume of the humming slowly lowered until it was just a soft snore. Waiting a while longer to assure he wouldn’t be heard, Dagdron stood up, put his cloak on, and retrieved his stash of jewelry. He made sure his dagger and the blue sphere were situated comfortably under his robe, and then snuck out the window.

  “See you at the academy,” he said, glancing back at Earl’s sleeping form.

  Now knowing his way, Dagdron slipped along the corridors and streets of Lordavia, heading to the exit. The guards at the gate were surprised when he showed up, but let him out. Dagdron knew there was no way he would ever travel in a royal caravan, so he set out northward to the Adventurers’ Academy like a real rogue should…alone.

  Dagdron had made the decision to cut across the country instead of going all the way back to Central Crossing before heading north. He was able to pick out trails easily enough even though they led through more vegetated areas. The rogue much preferred the secluded path, passing where none could easily see him.

  Dagdron contented himself the first two days by eating fruit for his meals. There were plenty of trees along the way and he easily climbed them, able to pick out the fruit at any height that appeared most appetizing to him.

  On the third evening of his journey, Dagdron, craving something more substantial for dinner, was passing through a hilly, wooded area when he glanced a farmhouse. He paused at a distance but was unable to locate any person at the farm, so he slowly approached. Before he even made it through the cropland, the front door opened and an elderly man exited, waving his hand to get Dagdron’s attention.

  Dagdron, not feeling threatened by the old man, headed toward him.

  “Are you one of those rogue adventurers?” the old man called as Dagdron approached.

  “No,” Dagdron replied.

  “Sorry, I thought you might be since most head north to the academy around this time of the season. Where are you headed, then, if I may ask?”

  “I’m going to the Adventurers’ Academy.”

  “Huh?” the old man said, sticking his pinky finger in his right ear and twisting it. “I thought you said you weren’t an adventurer.”

  “I’m not. My dad just makes me go to school there.”

  “But you’re at least learning hero skills?”

  “Yeah.” Dagdron shrugged.

  “Well, my wife and I could use a hand. A trio of goblins has been raiding our farm. I’m too old to fight them off anymore, and the wife is mighty petrified. We’d be willing to offer you a hot meal and soft bed for the night if you could deal with them for us.”

  “Do you have any sausages?” Dagdron asked.

  “Yeah, the wife can cook whatever you like. And she makes the best peach pie you’ve ever tasted for dessert.”

  Dagdron, knowing he could have just as easily stolen the food, wasn’t sure what came over him, but he agreed to help.

  “They have a camp just over yonder hill,” the man said, pointing behind the farmhouse.

  Dagdron nodded and headed in that direction.

  “Thank you,” the farmer said. “We don’t get many adventurers this way, but we’ll be much obliged if you fulfill the quest for us.”

  Dagdron took a stutter step. Why did he have to go and call this a quest? Earl’s voice was suddenly in his head, describing how an adventurer’s duty was to serve everyone, rich or poor, throughout the land.

  “What am I doing?” Dagdron muttered to himself.

  He heard the goblins grumbling to each other even before he reached the hillside. Dagdron crawled up the back side of the hill and peered carefully over the summit. The three goblins were sitting around a campfire, watching the spit of roasting meat drip juicily into the flames below. Just like the goblins Dagdron had seen when he, Earl, Lita, and Elloirana had brewed a reflection potion in the forest, these goblins had green skin and wore fur skins, covering their chests and midsections. Round, wooden helmets protected their heads, and their maces and shields were close by.

  Dagdron slinked a few feet back down the hill to let a plan form in his mind as it fell dark. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach as he realized he was going through the steps of how to fulfill a quest without thinking about it. How had Earl rubbed off on him so much?

  Toward the end of last year, Dagdron’s rogue teacher at the academy, Scar, had taught him the basics of hand-to-hand dagger fighting. Still, he knew he couldn’t fight off all three goblins at once. That being the case, Dagdron found two good-sized rocks and crept back to the top of the hill. He threw one rock into the vegetation directly over the campfire, and the other farther to the left.

  All three goblins jumped up, grumbling as they snatched up their maces, looking in the direction where the rocks had hit. One goblin ordered the other two to go check it out. They protested, complaining that the other would steal their portion of meat. Being the leader, Dagdron figured, the goblin repeated the command and the two creatures complied, creeping cautiously toward the brush.

  Just as the other two goblins had worried, Dagdron watched as the lead goblin returned to the fire and ripped off a piece of juicy meat, snarfing it down with his back toward Dagdron. Seeing this as his prime opportunity, Dagdron snuck down the hill and, unperceived by the goblin, he bludgeoned him over the head with the hilt of his dagger. The goblin groaned and fell unconscious to the side.

  Dagdron dragged the goblin into the shadows away from the fire. He returned to the camp, picked up the mace, shield, and a bag to the side of the fire. He then grabbed the stick that had the meat spit on it, and put everything next to the unconscious goblin.

  The other two goblins growled with rage when they returned to the fire. One set off up the hill, and the other one ran straight toward where Dagdron was hiding in the darkness. The second goblin was able to yell out as Dagdron jumped at him, but the rogue was still able to wham him over the head. The goblin joined his partner on the ground.

  The third goblin had heard the yell, so he came back down the hill, sensing the danger. Dagdron decided he would have to fight this one face-to-face, so he moved into the firelight. The goblin charged as soon as he saw the rogue, and Dagdron readied his dagger. The goblin brought his mace downward as soon as he was in striking distance. Dagdron used his dagger to block, making sure to hit the metal head so his dagger didn’t get wedged in the wooden handle. On the second and third times, the goblin reached the mace back farther, trying to gather more strength for the blows. But this left his entire abdomen exposed, so Dagdron stabbed with his dagger, catching the goblin on the side of the stomach. The goblin screeched in pain and fear and, instead of attacking again, he bolted into the vegetation.

  Goblins were weak creatures, usually scared off once they were attacked and bested, Dagdron recalled. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, so he assumed Earl must have told him one time or another in his ramblings. Dagdron collected everything he had taken from around the fire, except for the meat, which actually smelled disgusting. He also took the maces and shields of the unconscious goblins, and then he returned to the farmhouse.

  The old farmer gave a start when Dagdron came to the door.

  “My lands,” he said. “You looked so young and since you said you weren’t an adventurer, I didn’t expect you so soon.”

  The wife, who had been nervously knitting in a chair in the corner, jumped up and rushed to the kitchen to cook sausages. The farmer and his wife looked skinny and worn out from worrying about the goblins that had invaded their land, but both smiled as Dagdron explained how things had gone.

  “They scared off eas
y,”Dagdron said. He handed the bag to the man and set the weapons on the floor.

  The old man eagerly opened the bag and dug through the contents.

  “Oh, thank you, thank you,” the old man said. “Look!”

  His wife glanced up from the stove and rushed over to him.

  “You found our locket. Thank you so much,” she said.

  Dagdron kept his face expressionless, having no idea why they were so grateful.

  “The locket belonged to our only daughter,” the farmer explained. “She died when she was a young girl, and my wife cherishes it as a lasting memory of her. Those ruffian goblins got their hands on it the other night.”

  Dagdron nodded, making a mental note never to mention this moment to Earl. He didn’t want to hear how exceptional it was to help people heal their pains.

  The farmer understood Dagdron’s quiet nature, so he whistled as he looked through the rest of the bag, pulling out quite a few farming tools. The farmer’s wife brought over the large plate of sausages as soon as they were done, and Dagdron ate them with his dagger as the older couple watched him. Dagdron did his best to pretend that they weren’t staring at him. As soon as he finished the meat, the wife snatched the plate away, and replaced it with a piece of peach pie. As the old man had said, Dagdron agreed that the pie was extremely good, but he didn’t say so.

  When Dagdron finished dessert, the old couple was ready to set up a cot in the living room of their small farmhouse, but Dagdron explained to them that he needed to be on his way.

  “But it’s pitch dark outside already,” the farmer said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Dagdron said.

  “Okay, then,” the farmer said, showing Dagdron to the door. “If you ever decide to be an adventurer, I’m sure you’ll be a darn good one.”

  Dagdron gave a small wave of his hand and walked off into the darkness. All he had wanted was to have some meat for dinner, but what he got was a stomachache, feeling disgusted by how much he felt like an adventurer.

  Chapter 8: The Quest Tree

  Dagdron, any chance he got, made sure to steal the rest of the way to the Adventurers’ Academy. He grabbed food for every meal from gardens, farms, and houses in the villages he passed through. And when he wasn’t hungry, he took tools or house decorations. He wanted to do whatever it took to make himself feel less like an adventurer and more roguish again.

  He eventually came to the forest of the northern part of the land. He wandered through the trees until he spotted the wall of Bodaburg. Instead of going around, he climbed over the wall, dropping into the cemetery. Dagdron walked among the graves until he reached the short street just outside of the graveyard. He passed Mercer’s disguised shack of a house and continued through the streets of Bodaburg to the village gate.

  Because of the fast time he had made taking the direct route north, Dagdron found the academy mostly bare of students. The teachers and staff were already there, preparing for the arrival of the students that was scheduled in two days’ time. He looked up at the four dark brown towers of the academy, rising amongst the forest pines with the blue sky and mountain as a backdrop. Surprisingly, Dagdron found he didn’t completely hate being back. At least it wasn’t as crowded as Lordavia, he thought. The rogue, not wanting to be bothered by any adults, entered the front gate of the black fence that surrounding the grounds and snuck to the back of the academy.

  Dagdron smiled when he saw his tree standing healthily in the back yard. He had claimed the tree as his own hideout during his first year at the academy. The trunk was thick and gnarled, and it had perfect branches, just high enough to make it difficult for any other but a rogue to climb. Over the summer, Dagdron saw, the bark of the trunk had been healed. Any sign of Elloriana’s name had been erased, but he could still see his own. Whipping out his dagger, he carved his name deeper into the trunk and then, pausing in momentary thought, he carved two short vertical lines below his name.

  Dagdron spent the rest of the day up his tree, tossing his dagger and catching it again. He was content to pass his time alone over the next two days, or least he would have been, if Scar hadn’t showed up. He was the first-year rogue teacher at the Adventurers’ Academy. Strong and bulky with a bald head, Scar didn’t have a rogue’s body, which is what had led to a large percentage of his body being covered with scars. He had been caught often on his quests, but had been strong enough to withstand all the cuts and slices he had received.

  “Don’t think you can just trespass on academy property and lounge around for two days,” Scar said, pounding a fist on the tree. “Get down here and dagger fight me like a real rogue.”

  Dagdron jumped out of the tree behind Scar, brandishing his dagger. The bald man whipped around, lunging with his own. The two rogues sparred viciously, though missing the mark with any deadly blows. Dagdron, having gained a little confidence from how he had handled the goblins, found that he still had a long way to go. Each time he felt he was gaining momentum against Scar, the teacher retaliated more swiftly and skillfully with his dagger, forcing Dagdron back.

  “Slacked off all summer,” Scar said, shaking his head in disapproval as he left. “Same time tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here,” Dagdron replied, scurrying up his tree.

  Dagdron slept on the ground beneath his tree the following two nights. For food, he either snuck into the kitchens where Chef Barig was happy to prepare whatever he liked, or headed to Bodaburg to nick something, which was more of a challenge than Dagdron expected. Without other students, the rogue felt like he had a spotlight on him as the inhabitants watched his every move.

  After his two peaceful days were interrupted by the sound of other students and their families arriving, Dagdron retreated as high up in his tree as he could. No matter how much he strove not to be bothered, he knew what was coming for him that day. That’s why, a couple of hours later, he wasn’t surprised when the stomping footsteps crossed the back lawn of the academy.

  “Get down here, Dagdron!” Earl yelled.

  Accepting the confrontation as inevitable, Dagdron climbed down.

  “How could you do that to me?” Earl continued, disgusted. He yanked Dagdron’s hood from his head. “I was worried sick about you the entire way to the academy.”

  Before Dagdron could reply with a snide remark, Elloriana exited the academy and strode over as well, glaring at the rogue.

  “How could you offend my family like that?” she said. “Being a dirty thief is one thing, but shaming my family by refusing their transport is just a horrible thing to do.”

  “Why would I travel with people who give me snooty looks all the time?” Dagdron responded. “I’m surprised your parents’ richy necks aren’t kinked from how high they lift their noses in the air.”

  Elloriana and Earl alike were appalled, but before either could respond, the back door of the academy opened again and Lita came out. Her hair was as blond as ever, but she looked even more muscular than Dagdron remembered.

  “Lita!” Earl exclaimed.

  “Earl!” Lita cried in response.

  The two fighters rushed forward, jumping and bumping chests when they reached each other. Then, they both drew their swords, clanking them ceremoniously together for their reunion.

  Dagdron was hopeful the focus would be taken off him when he saw how Elloriana rolled her eyes at the warrior and lady warrior, but it was not to be. As soon as Earl and Lita were back by the tree, Elloriana turned on him again.

  “You have gone too far this time,” Elloriana said. “I’m burning your name off the tree.”

  “I’ll tell your parents about your plans,” Dagdron said as she lifted her hand to cast the spell.

  “I was so stupid to ever tell you about that,” she said, lowering her hand. “Why did you carve an eleven below your name?”

  “It’s not an eleven, and it’s none of your business,” Dagdron said.

  “Tell us, Dagdron,” Earl said. “This is our tree now, too.”

  “No,
it’s not!” Dagdron said. If anything made Dagdron lose control of his emotions, it was his possessiveness of his tree. He needed a spot that was his own, free from the claustrophobic walls of the academy. And it was bad enough that the previous year Elloriana had been flaming her name into the trunk. He wasn’t going to put up with that again. “This is my tree!”

  “Then tell us what those marks mean,” Earl said, trying to sound as if he was blackmailing Dagdron.

  “It’s a tally. Nothing else,” Dagdron replied.

  “A tally of what?” Elloriana asked.

  “The number of quests I’ve completed.”

  “That’s a fantastic idea!” Earl said. “This can be our quest tree! Each of us can take a side of the trunk and keep a running total each time we fulfill a quest.” Before Dagdron could protest, a confused expression crossed Earl’s face. “Wait. Why do you have two tally marks? The only quest we fulfilled was finding one of the Arches of Avooblis last year.”

  “That would be the only quest you fulfilled,” Dagdron said. “I’ve successfully completed two.”

  “You can’t count sneaking into Byron’s room in Lordavia as a quest,” Earl said. “That was just a step in our overall quest to figure out what he’s up to.”

  “That wasn’t it.”

  “Then what was it?” Earl was getting more and more riled up. If there was anything that got under his skin, it was adventurers pretending they were accomplishing quests.”

  “While you two were on your richy ride north, I was off helping the villagers as I traveled,” Dagdron said. Earl narrowed his eyes, so he continued. “As I passed a farm, the farmer called to me and told me that three goblins had been raiding their farm. I took care of the problem for them.”