“Yes, you will,” King Fortigroff said. “But that’s not enough. Your daughter may have made an injudicious mistake, but that still doesn’t excuse the lack of character of the boy. I demand that his family’s status of nobility be revoked effective immediately.”
King Loftloomburg hesitated, mulling the consequences of not meeting King Fortigroff’s demands. Dagdron was almost sure he could hear Earl’s heart thumping in his chest at his side.
“Please, don’t, father,” Elloriana said, breaking the silence. “I pressured him into it.”
“You have no right to decide in this matter,” King Loftloomburg said, looking at Elloriana before turning back to King Fortigroff. “I will comply with your demands.”
Count Valorington’s face turned pale and tears sprang into his wife’s eyes. Earl’s shoulders drooped in despair. Elloriana cast a quick, horrified glance at Earl and Dagdron. Earl and Countess Solloughby sneered at the Valoringtons.
“I trust he will be expelled from the Adventurers’ Academy as well,” King Fortigroff said to Headmaster Gwauldron. “I don’t want my son to be attending with such a miscreant.”
Earl let out an audible gasp. All last year he had dealt with the prospect of being expelled, and he didn’t think he would have to face it again. This time, Grady Solloughby gave a satisfying look of scorn directly at Earl.
“No,” Headmaster Gwauldron said. “No one in this room, other than myself, has any say in who attends the Adventurers’ Academy. Earl is an outstanding sword fighter and adventurer, and I am under oath that he will never be threatened with expulsion again. I am a man of my word. As long as the yearly payments are made, Earl will remain at the academy.”
King Fortigroff was upset at being denied, but said nothing further. The Solloughbys, Grady in particular, were suddenly filled with disappointment.
“You richies should have your throats slit and have everything stolen from you,” Dagdron said. He drew his dagger hostilely, leaving the room and house as the royals of Lordavia and Broodavia, appalled at being threatened, uttered their complaints to Headmaster Gwauldron about the type of students he allowed at the academy.
Dagdron, ignoring Dugan, Wendahl, and Grizzard, ran down the main street of Bodaburg. Dugan followed his son, catching him as they started up the slope to the academy.
“Tell me what happened,” Dugan said.
“Those stupid arches are ruining everyone’s life,” Dagdron said. “Earl’s family was stripped of their nobility.”
Dugan, sympathetic, wanted Dagdron to explain more details, but his son ran onto the grounds of the academy and inside.
Dagdron jogged all the way back to his bedroom, where he paced back and forth.
Why am I so worked up? Dagdron asked himself. Why do I care what happens to Earl?
Dagdron tried to recall all the stares of disapprobation Earl’s mom had given him and how obnoxious Earl’s dad could be. But even that didn’t help. Count Valorington’s naivety about Dagdron’s adventuring attitude and how uncomfortable he made his own son was comical, Dagdron admitted to himself. And he and Earl had shared so many experiences that, even though he hated to accept it, he knew Earl had become like a brother to him.
Dagdron sat down on the side of his bed. He calmed down by imagining slicing the Loftloomburgs, Fortigroffs, and Solloughbys, but his pulse was still pumping more than normal. He lay down, tossing his dagger in the air and catching it again. When it got dark, he finally went outside to his tree. He circled the tree, making sure no one else was around, and then, drawing his dagger, he stepped up to the trunk, glancing over his shoulder one last time. He jabbed his dagger into the trunk, fiddled with a knot on the tree, and then hurried back inside the academy.
Earl didn’t return to their bedroom until later that night. His face was sunken and tear streaks still stained his cheeks. Dagdron got off the bed and Earl rushed to hug him.
“My questing days are over,” Earl said. “My family will never have enough money to pay for my third year. We decided its best for me to go back to Lordavia to work with my dad in the stables so we’ll have money to start life over.”
“You have to pay a yearly fee?” Dagdron asked. “I didn’t pay for the second year.”
“I’m sure Headmaster Gwauldron accepted the Arch of Avooblis as payment for all three years.”
Dagdron pushed Earl away from him and reached a hand inside his cloak, pulling out a pouch. He loosened the cinch, exposing the purple gems that filled the sack to the brim.
“Were you serious about how valuable these are?” Dagdron asked.
“Yes, those are the rarest gems out of any of the Broodavian mines,” Earl said. “I couldn’t believe Byron gave so many to Mercer. Did you carry those around all summer? Where have you had them?”
“Not under my bed, because I know you’ve been peeking under there,” Dagdron said. A slight guilty expression crossed Earl’s face, but he didn’t say anything. “Here.” Dagdron held out the pouch.
“I can’t take those,” Earl said.
“I know it doesn’t bring back your nobility, but you can pay for the academy, and your dad won’t have to work in those richy stables. They can buy any house they want.” Dagdron pushed the pouch into Earl’s chest.
“Dagdron...”
“Take them,” Dagdron said, losing his patience.
“I can’t accept them,” Earl said. “You could live however you want with them. You wouldn’t have to be an adventurer.”
“I don’t want them,” Dagdron said.
“Why did you steal them then?”
“I don’t steal to get rich. I steal because it’s fun.” Dagdron shoved the pouch against Earl until he put his hands on it.
“Dagdron, thank you,” Earl said.
Dagdron shrugged and returned to his bed. “I don’t want the Arches of Avooblis to ruin your life, too.” Earl was still staring gratefully at him, but Dagdron threw his dagger in the air, no longer wanting to talk about anything.
Chapter 18: Cross-over Classes
The last two weeks of November, life at the Adventurers’ Academy returned to normal for Dagdron and Earl. Before his parents had left Bodaburg, Earl had given them the pouch of Broodavian amethysts. His parents had been filled with awe and questions, but Earl refused to answer, only letting them know that he had made connections at the academy and their benefactor had come forward through those means. When they continued to press him, the young warrior finally admitted to them that Dagdron was the benefactor. Former Count Valorington praised Dagdron even more so than he usually did, and Mrs. Valorington was stunned into silence.
The gems would allow his parents to have a life of luxury, even if they had to live it outside of the pyramid. Dagdron’s only stipulation had been for Earl to caution his parents to stash the extras somewhere safe, because he was sure King Loftloomburg would be suspicious of their wealth and send someone to search the Valorington’s possessions. Although Earl wouldn’t accept the king going that far, he still warned his parents and they concurred.
Dagdron’s dad had stayed in his cave above the academy for a couple of days after the carnival, but then he stopped outside the back fence to tell Dagdron he was leaving before the snow arrived. He explained truthfully that he had learned that Rance, Kas, and Wally had left the Bodaburg area, and he was going to track them to make sure they didn’t secretly come back. Before he left, Dugan reached through the bars of the academy fence to pat Dagdron on the shoulder.
“Earl told me what you did,” Dugan said.
Dagdron shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t want to be a richy.”
Dagdron stared into his father’s eyes in a threatening manner, warning him that if he dared make a comment about how noble his son had become, that he would be sliced with a dagger. Catching the warning, Dugan smiled and squeezed Dagdron’s shoulder before leaving.
The person who stuck around even after the Winter Carnival was Wendahl. He surprised Dagdron and Earl by stopping by their
bedroom one night toward the end of November. He crashed their door open, startling Earl and at least making Dagdron roll over on the floor to see who it was. Wendahl stood in the doorway with his arms raised, and invited the two boys to visit him in his room on the fifth floor on the weekend. When they consented, he left, slamming the door just as vigorously behind him.
“What do you think he wants?” Earl said on Saturday when they were climbing to the fifth floor.
“His orb back,” Dagdron guessed.
Although they hadn’t set a time, Wendahl appeared to be waiting for them because his bedroom door swung open as soon as they reached it. The enchanter’s room was lit up by numerous magenta balls that were stuck to the walls. A small table had been placed in the middle of the room with a jar of viscous liquid on it. Like everything else Wendahl dealt with, it was magenta.
“Whoa,” Earl said as his face was bathed in the magenta light.
“Enter, enter,” Wendahl said, spreading his arms out in welcome. He watched intently as the boys looked around the room, Earl with his mouth wide open.
“Are you staying here all winter?” Dagdron asked as soon as the door closed.
“Yep,” Wendahl said.
“What about your farm?” Earl asked.
“I came the day after the fall harvest in Coastdale. I gave all my crops away to the villagers. I won’t have to plant again until springtime.”
The enchanter watched contentedly as Earl looked all around the room but, when he saw Dagdron waiting stone faced, he decided he had better explain.
“I’m sure you’re both wondering why I’ve asked you here,” Wendahl said, motioning for the boys to step closer to the table. “I’ve noticed in the short time I’ve been here, that you two have a tendency to get into trouble.”
Dagdron was silent, but Earl couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“You’re right. Trouble seems to follow us everywhere we go,” Earl said. “In the academy, in Bodaburg, in the forest.”
Dagdron gave Earl a glance to silence him, and Wendahl put his hands up.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Gwidy if you leave the academy grounds every once in a while.”
“What do you want?” Dagdron said.
“As I was saying, you two attract a lot of trouble, and since you played such an incredible role in my Winter Carnival performance—I got rave reviews by the way—I thought I would offer you a reward. Would you mind placing your sword and dagger on the table?”
Dagdron didn’t move, but Earl’s hand went to his hilt as his eyes looked toward the hoe that was leaned against the wall.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Earl asked.
Wendahl nodded with a gleeful smile.
Earl yanked his sword out of the sheath and placed it on the table, but Dagdron still made no motion to pull out his dagger.
“Dagdron, put your dagger on the table,” Earl said. “He’s going to enchant our weapons.”
“Do I want my dagger to be magical?”
“Yes!” Earl exclaimed. “Magical weapons are extremely rare. I’ve never heard of a modern enchanter who can charm weapons. Most magical swords that still exist are guarded in royal treasuries around the land.”
“I still think my dagger is fine as it is,” Dagdron said.
“No,” Earl said. “A magical weapon doesn’t rust, doesn’t break, and I bet my sword wouldn’t even have corroded if I had got spumasaur spittle on it.”
“Actually, spumasaur spittle can corrode even an enchanted weapon,” Wendahl said.
“Still, the extra power a magical weapon could give us as adventurers is huge.”
“Your dagger will not be harmed,” Wendahl said. “You can use it exactly the same. It will just give you the advantages Earl has mentioned, particularly allowing you to defend better against magical attacks. The power of spells will be absorbed and weakened when you block them with your sword and dagger. Since Rance, Kas, and Wally keep showing up, I thought it would be an appropriate time to enchant your weapons.”
Dagdron slowly pulled out his dagger and placed it on the table. Wendahl grabbed the bottle and uncorked it. The substance glopped out on the sword and dagger. The enchanter ran his hands over the weapons, and the magenta matter bubbled as it liquefied and spread to cover every inch of the sword and dagger. Wendahl mumbled under his breath as he moved his hands in a circular motion an inch above the weapons, emanating a light onto the blades. When the magenta liquid was sizzling, Dagdron began to worry about his trusty dagger, but Earl was still watching in awe. The sizzling got louder and louder, and more and more smoke billowed upward, until a blinding magenta flash burst around the weapons. When the smoke cleared, Wendahl had his arms spread out as if he had just finished a routine, and Earl’s sword and Dagdron’s dagger were lying on the table, appearing exactly as they had before.
“Take your weapons,” Wendahl said dramatically, shimmying his hands.
Earl lifted his sword gently as if it were a newborn baby. Dagdron grabbed his dagger and stuffed it back under his cloak.
“Wow,” Earl said, caressing his sword. Wendahl, seeing Earl’s reaction, beamed, but disappointment set in when he saw how little wonder Dagdron had shown at his newly magically charged dagger. “And we just thought you invited us here to get the sphere back.”
“Oh,” Wendahl said. “Now that you mention it, how’s the sphere working out for you?”
“Great,” Earl said. He was going to explain further, but Dagdron gave him a quick poke with his dagger.
“Don’t worry. I was just wondering if you had gathered any mandrake, spittle, or spores lately,” Wendahl said, watching the two boys’ reactions anxiously.
“How do you know that?” Dagdron said, pointing his dagger toward Wendahl.
“Probably best not to talk about it,” the enchanter said, putting a finger to his lips. “I can see our rogue friend is a little touchy about it.”
“Tell us how you know the headmaster and Rance,” Dagdron said.
“If you insist,” Wendahl said. He picked up his hoe and sat down in the arm chair in the room. “Gwydion and I have known each other from a very young age. We met Rance when we ventured to Lordavia in search of greater magical knowledge. Much as it is today, Lordavia was the largest center to acquire that type of wisdom. We founded an enchanter’s organization based on developing magical skills in order to help rid the land of darkness and evil. We spent years studying and planning together. It was then that our powers developed. Rance learned all sorts of spells during that time, including his lightning balls. Gwydion’s magical abilities grew exponentially in Lordavia too. His spells became more and more forceful, he learned to create amazing illusions, and his studies and knowledge about magic allowed him to come up with all sorts of magical theories, potions, and new spell ideas became more and more forceful. And I, of course, learned one of the most important aspects of magic I ever have: how to make all my spells magenta.” Wendahl paused, grinning as he took in Earl’s excited expression. “In Lordavia is where all three of us truly became enchanters.”
“Why do the headmaster and Rance hate each other now?” Earl asked.
“Like most organizations, as soon as there are separate visions, they crumble. As I’m sure you can tell, I love my magic, but I also love the quiet life. I had no problem moving to Coastdale to continue developing my magic skills in peace, away from it all.”
There was a loud knock at the door, silencing Wendahl. He pointed his hoe and cast a fetch spell at the door. The spell circle grabbed the latch, opening the door with such force that the hinges broke.
“Oops,” Wendahl said when he saw Headmaster Gwauldron standing in the doorway.
Headmaster Gwauldron, upset, walked into the room, glaring at Dagdron and Earl.
“Shouldn’t you two be in Bodaburg?” the headmaster asked. “The snow will be here by next weekend, so it will be the last time students are allowed down to the village.”
Dagdron in
stantly headed for the door. Earl was frozen momentarily, but then went after him.
“Hold on,” Wendahl said. He rushed out into the hallway and dropped his voice. “You probably better not mention to anyone that I can enchant weapons. I don’t think it would be good to have that spreading around the academy or anywhere else for that matter.”
“We wouldn’t think of it,” Earl said in full confidence.
“Perfect.” Wendahl returned inside and, forgetting the door was broken, closed it, which wrenched the hinges off and the door crashed to the ground.
“I can’t believe it!” Earl said back on the fifth floor landing. “We have magical weapons!” He grabbed Dagdron in a bear hug.
“He better not have ruined my dagger,” Dagdron said, glancing at his weapon. “If it breaks in the next couple of days, I’m going to slit his throat.”
“He didn’t ruin it! I told you how rare magical weapons are. I know I’ve said this to you before, but none of this would’ve happened if we hadn’t been roommates. Being your roommate has given me so many opportunities and rewards that it’s unbelievable. I can’t believe I have an enchanted sword!”
“I wonder how you’re going to keep your magical sword from Lita,” Dagdron said, forcing Earl to release him.
“Stop doing that, Dagdron,” Earl said. “I know you’re purposely putting a damper on my excitement, but it’s uncalled for.”
Dagdron kept his expression blank and headed down the stairwell.
* * *
Earl, though still worried about his parents’ loss of nobility status, was much more relaxed now that everything had been resolved for the time being, and his boisterous delight about his sword kept his spirits high, even though he could only talk about it with Dagdron. This, in turn, resulted in happier humming while Earl fell asleep and less thrashing during the night, which allowed Dagdron to sleep better. But that didn’t prevent Earl from shaking Dagdron awake excitedly the first day of December.
“Finally!” Earl said, standing over Dagdron.
“What?” Dagdron said, scowling.
The Shrine of Avooblis Page 17