The Shrine of Avooblis

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The Shrine of Avooblis Page 23

by Charles Streams


  The headmaster, smiling more than any of the current adventurers had seen him in their day, motioned for the first ever students of the academy to head off to their rooms, leaving him alone with Rance and Wendahl.

  “That was a very grand opening of the Adventurers’ Academy,” Wendahl said.

  “I appreciated your grand entrance,” the headmaster said. “The students didn’t expect your arrival.”

  Wendahl smiled, but then Headmaster Gwauldron looked at him more seriously.

  “What is that?” the headmaster asked, signaling to the hoe.

  “Oh, this?” Wendahl said, pounding the hoe three times against the ground. “In all my travels, I’ve discovered that gardening is the greatest magic of all.”

  Headmaster Gwauldron smiled with a bewildered look, and Rance took a deep breath as he rolled his eyes when Wendahl didn’t explain further.

  “I hope you’ve come to teach,” the headmaster said.

  “No, no, no,” Wendahl said. “I’m having too much fun on my adventures. I’m learning more about magic than I ever thought I would, I’m saving people’s lives, and I even took out a troll the other day.”

  “Our point exactly,” Rance said. “Your expertise is needed to guide the students.”

  “No, no,” Wendahl said. “I’m flattered, but I’m a quester not a teacher.”

  “At least promise you’ll visit as a guest speaker,” Headmaster Gwauldron said.

  “Of course,” Wendahl said. “As long as I don’t ever get stuck here, I’ll visit as often as I can.”

  “You’ll always be welcome,” Headmaster Gwauldron said.

  The scene went black, and Dagdron, Earl, Elloriana, and Lita fell to the ground. The Wizard of Avooblis smiled greedily at the ingredients on the altar, and then disappeared into his arch.

  Chapter 23: Clingy Claws

  Mazannanan was nowhere to be seen the following morning, so Dagdron, Earl, Elloriana, and Lita left the laboratory. The girls headed back to their room, and the boys went straight to the fifth floor of the boys’ tower. Wendahl rushed out when they were partway down the corridor.

  “Are you trapped here?” Earl asked.

  “No, I can leave whenever I want,” Wendahl said. “I just don’t want Gwidy to follow me, that’s all. Do you need help finding something else?”

  “Why was the academy built over the shrine?” Dagdron questioned.

  “To protect it from anyone else finding it,” Wendahl answered tentatively.

  “The Adventurers’ Academy was built for that?” Earl said, discouraged.

  “No,” Wendahl said, reassuring Earl. “Gwydion honestly built it to train adventurers to rid the land of evil. He and Rance chose the location so they could continue to study about the Arches and Avooblis, but Gwydion’s vision always was and still is about his students becoming heroes and assisting villages and villagers throughout the land.”

  “Why did you leave?” Dagdron said.

  “Gwydion tried to convince me to stay and teach, but I was like you two. I wanted to be out adventuring and exploring, using my magic in the real world. I wouldn’t have lasted long. I would’ve ended up teaching the students how to make magical grand entrances, and I bet Gwidy would’ve fired me.” Wendahl grinned.

  Dagdron, content that Wendahl’s answers had matched up with what they had seen the night before in the shrine, drew his dagger for the next question. “Why did you take the orb with you?”

  “Because the arches and shrine are dangerous,” Wendahl said. “Gwydion’s idea for the Adventurers’ Academy was a much safer and better one. It’s worked wonders helping the land.”

  “Then why did you give the orb to us?” Earl asked.

  “The headmaster’s coming,” Wendahl said. “Go!”

  Earl grabbed ahold of Dagdron’s arm to pull him down the corridor, but the rogue resisted.

  “We’re not falling for that this time,” Dagdron said. “Why did you give us the orb?”

  “Come back when you know the next item,” Wendahl said, failing to meet Dagdron in the eyes.

  “Don’t you already know what it is?” Dagdron said, his scowl deepening on his face.

  Instead of replying, Wendahl lifted his hoe, and a sheet of magenta light whooshed up in front of him. By the time the spell had dissipated, Dagdron and Earl saw the enchanter slipping back inside his room.

  “Wow,” Earl said. “He’s so good at magic.”

  “He’s going to be good at getting sliced,” Dagdron said.

  For the rest of March, Dagdron and Earl checked back in the shrine each night, but Mazannanan never emerged to tell them the next ingredient he required. Also, under Elloriana’s bidding, they snuck with her and Lita to the cave to see if Byron, Landon, or Gordon had added anything to the chest. They didn’t find anything new there, or see any of the three warriors taking any secret expeditions.

  Not until April did the orb glow in the middle of the night and lead Dagdron and Earl to the shrine. Mazannanan was waiting for them anxiously.

  “The fourth month has arrived and we must make haste,” the wizard said. “Bring me the claws of a jagtaur and I will continue the history of Avooblis.”

  “Jagtaurs don’t live in the north,” Earl said, but the wizard paid him no heed and returned to his archway. “I’d love to fight a jagtaur, but they really don’t live this far north.”

  “What are they?” Dagdron asked.

  “They’re savage,” Earl explained eagerly. “They have the body of a horse, a broad torso, and the head of a jaguar. They’re completely covered in black fur and have two arms to swipe you with their vicious finger claws. And not to mention a mouth full of sharp fangs.”

  “Are there any trophies with jagtaur claws on them?” Dagdron asked.

  Earl shook his head, knowing each and every one of the plaques in the academy’s trophy room. “The only plaque with a jagtaur claw was the fake one of Kemp’s that we destroyed last year.”

  “We’ll ask Wendahl,” Dagdron said, shrugging his shoulders.

  The following afternoon, Wendahl poked his head out of his room when Dagdron and Earl reached the fifth floor. He approached warily, wondering how upset the two boys, the rogue especially, would be with him for his last escape.

  “We need jagtaur claws,” Dagdron said.

  “Do you know of any that have migrated north?” Earl added.

  “No,” Wendahl said, shaking his head. “However, I do know where you might be able to find some.”

  “Where?” Dagdron said.

  “While I was living in the mountains so many years ago, I had a very lovely lady friend,” Wendahl said. “She was quite the collector of... curious objects, so to speak.”

  “Where?” Dagdron repeated, pointing his dagger at the elderly enchanter.

  “She’s one of the only inhabitants around here who lives outside of Bodaburg or the Adventurers’ Academy.”

  “The witch in the woods?” Earl said, his mouth dropping open.

  Wendahl nodded his head. “That would be your only possibility for jagtaur claws around here.”

  “How can we get into her house?” Earl said. “The legends say she turns academy students into toads.”

  “No, I don’t see you becoming toads,” Wendahl said. “She might experiment on you, though. But you won’t need to go in the house, just the yard. Best to do it when she’s asleep.”

  “Can’t you talk to her for us?” Earl asked, already creeped out by the thought of the dark house in the woods they had seen once before the previous year.

  “No, I don’t think that would be the best idea. Your headmaster is watching me and all. I don’t think it would be safe for me to go with you.”

  Dagdron made a threatening motion toward Wendahl with his dagger before heading back down the corridor without saying anything else. Earl, hesitating, mumbled apologetically to Wendahl before following his friend.

  * * *

  On the first weekend of April, Dagdron, Earl, Ell
oriana, and Lita headed down the valley, turning right once they reached Bodaburg and delving into the forest. While the girls were acting cautious, their nervousness was nothing compared to Earl’s, who was walking right next to Dagdron instead of letting him walk alone like usual.

  They remembered the general direction of the witch’s house, having passed by it the previous year when they were brewing the reflection potion to get into Mercer’s house. After wandering for only a short while, they stumbled upon the correct path. They approached silently, hiding behind a tree while they took in the view. The house was squat and crooked, the wood warped from years of withstanding the rain and snow of the northern winters. The roof was thatched with bushy straw. The witch had built the house strategically in a barren area with a rock face behind, preventing visitors from approaching in back. Wooden posts with the tops carved into sharp points lined up all the way across the front, forming a formidable fence.

  Earl mumbled nervously as Dagdron led them forward. As soon as they reached the fence, a loud croak filled the night. Dagdron peered into the darkness, noticing the many toads jumping across the desolate front yard.

  “I told you,” Earl said. “She turns unsuspecting adventurers into toads. Haven’t you guys ever heard of Diggory the lost adventurer? He disappeared from the academy during the first few years it was open. No one ever saw him again, but legend tells that he was turned into a frog by the witch in the woods. The academy almost got shut down.”

  While Earl continued to tell Elloriana and Lita about the lost adventurer, Dagdron scoped out the yard. He immediately understood what Wendahl had meant about not having to enter the house. Various vines had been strung across the yard, connecting to the rocks to the sides and back. Jars hung from the vines at different intervals.

  “What do jagtaur claws look like?” Dagdron asked, interrupting Earl’s story.

  “They’re big, black, and sharp,” Earl said.

  Dagdron, avoiding the spiked tops, grabbed two of the fence posts to vault himself over, but they were covered with a sticky substance, so he tore his hands free. He flicked his hands around, flipping the goo toward the other three.

  “Gross. What is that?” Elloriana said.

  “Something’s on the fence,” Dagdron said. He moved along the posts to the right, examining the small space in between, until he discovered a short wire connecting two of them. He slid his dagger in between and twitched it upward, releasing the wire. Cautiously, he lifted the post and swung it and the one next to it, outward.

  Earl, Elloriana, and Lita followed him, entering the yard warily. Dagdron pointed to the jars hanging above their heads.

  “You guys search here, I’ll sneak closer to the house,” he told them.

  “I’ll come with you,” Elloriana said.

  Earl and Lita began checking the jars where they were, while Dagdron and Elloriana crept closer to the house. The bottles were filled with all sorts of gross-looking and unidentifiable objects. Dagdron reached up to shake the jars, figuring claws would rattle against the glass. Elloriana lit flame spells, extinguishing them as soon as she saw the contents.

  “What do you think she uses these jars for?” Elloriana asked Dagdron quietly.

  “You’re the witch, you should know,” Dagdron replied.

  “I’m an enchantress, not a witch.”

  “Same thing.”

  “It most certainly is not,” Elloriana said, lighting up a jar filled with a mushy black plant.

  Dagdron gave another jar a shake, but quickly released it when he saw an eyeball push against the side.

  “Witches do all sorts of disgusting spells, as we are seeing with these bottles. Enchantress use true magic,” Elloriana continued.

  Dagdron, having already dropped the conversation, was only a few feet away from the house now. From a distance, they had assumed all the lights were off, but he saw a dim glow from the left window. He slinked to the side of the house and slowly leaned his head until he could see inside. The dim light was coming from burning coals with an enormous cauldron on top. The witch in the woods was standing by the pot, grinning as she added more ingredients to the bubbling green concoction.

  “That’s her?” Elloriana said, having come up behind Dagdron. “I thought Wendahl said she was pretty.”

  Dagdron shushed her with an elbow, but he had to agree. The old witch, with hunched shoulders and a big crooked nose, looked like a much better match for Mazannanan than for Wendahl. In addition, her nose sported such a huge wart on the end that it was plainly visible even through the window.

  “Dagdron,” Earl called softly.

  Dagdron and Elloriana turned from the window. Earl was beckoning to them, so they joined him and Lita.

  “I think we found some claws,” Earl explained. “We need light to make sure.”

  Elloriana lifted her hand and the black claws were illuminated momentarily. Dagdron lifted his dagger at once, severing the jar from the vine, and the group headed back toward the fence. With ten feet to go, a roar split the night, and Kemp ran into the yard, this time brandishing an axe. Holding the weapon with both hands, he rushed forward, aiming to chop Dagdron’s neck. Dagdron ducked as Earl and Lita drew their swords and converged on Kemp.

  Kemp swung his axe again, shattering a jar and showering him, Earl, and Lita with a foul-smelling slime. Earl and Lita quickly overpowered him two-on-one, shoving him to the ground. The four young adventurers ran for the opening in the fence just as the door to the house burst open. Even before Dagdron could slip through with the jagtaur claws, the posts replaced themselves, sealing the hole. The witch in the woods cackled with delight.

  “I hang those jars to attract creatures and other animals to my house, but I don’t get many adventurers.”

  Dagdron was tugging at the fence posts, but he couldn’t budge them. The witch stepped out of the house, casting purple stun spells at Dagdron, Earl, Elloriana, and Lita. Dagdron used his dagger and Earl his sword to deflect the magic balls that zoomed toward them, but Lita’s sword and Elloriana’s protection spells did little to abate the attack. Kemp got back to his feet, but one of the spells hit him square in the chest, knocking him back down.

  “Wendahl sent us!” Dagdron finally yelled.

  The spells stopped instantaneously.

  “What did you say?” the witch said, walking forward.

  “Wendahl wanted us to give you a message,” Dagdron said.

  “Really?” The witch lifted a gnarled hand to her hair as if straightening it. “What is his message?”

  “He still loves you,” Dagdron said.

  Earl, Lita, and Elloriana looked at Dagdron in shock, wondering what he was thinking.

  “Why didn’t he come to tell me that himself?” the witch in the woods asked, raising her hands to begin the spells again.

  “Wait, Gretta,” Wendahl’s voice suddenly called from outside the yard. “I’m here now.”

  Everyone watched as Wendahl approached in his magenta robes, hoe in hand.

  “Let the kids go, Gretta,” he said. “I shouldn’t have sent my young friends.”

  “It’s been so long,” Gretta replied. “I thought you’d never come back. I thought you’d forgotten all about our summers of love.”

  The witch in the woods smiled as Wendahl used his hoe to unseal the fence posts and open the narrow passage. As soon as it was open, Dagdron slipped out, followed by Earl, Elloriana, and Lita. The very second they were clear, Wendahl slammed the fence closed and yelled, “Run!”

  “Wendahl!” the witch in the woods howled in the night. “Get back here!”

  Wendahl used his hoe to keep the four young adventurers running through the forest until they came to the Bodaburg wall and followed it to the trail to the academy.

  “Sorry I was late,” Wendahl said.

  “Your summers of love?” Elloriana said.

  “I was young once,” the enchanter replied.

  “I thought you said she was beautiful,” Elloriana said.


  “Well, she was. But that was before one of my spells went awry and gave her that rather large wart on her nose, which I’m sure you all noticed even in the darkness. We tried to fix it but with no success. After that, I just couldn’t look at her the same, and she was much too clingy.”

  “You gave her that wart?” Elloriana said, casting a wary look at Wendahl’s hoe.

  “I won’t take full blame,” Wendahl said, somewhat defensively. “Gretta was very concerned with maintaining her beauty. I was doing what she asked.”

  “Are these jagtaur claws?” Dagdron interrupted, sticking the jar in Wendahl’s face.

  “Yes,” Wendahl said.

  “Why did you give us the blue orb?” Dagdron said.

  Wendahl glanced back down the valley as if considering whether he preferred taking a chance with the witch in the woods instead of answering Dagdron’s question. Fortunately for him, he was rescued by a dark figure stumbling out of the trees.

  “Your dad, Dagdron!” Earl said.

  Wendahl lit up the end of his hoe as Dugan staggered toward them. The right side of his face was scorched.

  “What happened, Mr. Obor?” Earl asked.

  “Get back to the academy,” Dugan said weakly, giving Wendahl an unhappy expression. “Rance, Kas, and Wally got the better of me. They’re probably already back in the area. Go back to your rooms.”

  “I’ll take care of your father’s injuries,” Wendahl told Dagdron.

  Dagdron, in no mood to be bossed around, continued up the slope without saying anything to his dad. When they reached the entrance hall, Lita stepped in front of Dagdron and Earl, blocking their way with her bulky frame.

  “How did your weapons do that?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Elloriana said, moving to her side.

  “Do what?” Dagdron said as Earl muttered nervously, not knowing how to answer.

  “Your sword and dagger,” Lita said, glaring at Dagdron and then turning her rough expression on Earl. “Only magically charged weapons can defend magic like that. The witch couldn’t touch you.”

 

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