The Minions of Avooblis: The Adventurers' Academy, #4

Chapter 1: Lushmere

Dagdron poked his head through the top branches of a tree, removed the hood of his black cloak, and peered at Lushmere in the distance below. The vegetation was similar to Lordavia’s, with lots of greenery intermixed with colorful flowers and fruits. But Lushmere had been built as part of the tropical jungle, maintaining the vegetation, with dirt pathways running between and through the clearings. The center of the city was still easy to spot from Dagdron’s elevated position, where the largest group of buildings and tallest structures stood out. A web of trails led off from this middle section, heading in all directions to smaller clearings where colorful houses and shops had been built. Behind the main clearing he spotted a big richy house that he knew he would be visiting during his quest. But then his eyes fell on a tall house sticking above the vegetation in the distance. He couldn’t be sure from so far away, but the roof looked collapsed in, and if it was, it would make for the perfect rogue base for his time in Lushmere.

Adding to the lushness of the area, the Lushlante River ran down the hillside Dagdron was on, splitting into three separate streams shortly before the village. One stream curved to the left, while another meandered to the right. The third river ran straight through the main clearing. Bridges had been built along the pathways, providing access over the water to the different sections of Lushmere. On the opposite end of the city, the streams converged back together, rushing off to cross the entire land all the way to the ocean shore.

After getting his bearings, Dagdron peered down through the branches of the tree. He picked out a few travelers on the path, but they paid no attention to who might be in the trees above as they hurried to reach Lushmere before dark. Dagdron hesitated but then decided he should get to the village before nightfall just to be safe.

His trek from Central Crossing had been uneventful, but that was only due to his stealth skills that he had developed during his three years at the Adventurers’ Academy. Dagdron had heard and seen signs of all sorts of dark creatures along the way, but like any decent rogue, he had ducked under brush, climbed up trees, and changed his route rather than face any confrontation. When he had reached the summit of the hillside he was on now, he had scaled the highest tree to learn the layout of Lushmere. He figured at least having some idea of the trails would help him avoid any attention, not only from creatures, but also from any Lushmerians that might identify him as an adventurer.

Dagdron put his hood back on and started down the trail along the river. While part of him still longed for the boulders of Cliffmount, he had already grown to like the dense jungle vegetation, as it gave him many options for slipping off the trail to hide.

Three signs marked the spot where the river split, and three vegetation bridges allowed passage over each stream to the trails. Dagdron furrowed his brow when he saw the left river labeled as the Gwauldron Stream. He had never wanted to see the headmaster’s name again. The middle stream was marked as the Lushmere Stream, while the one curving to the right the Venchurington Stream. He stayed with the middle river. More people appeared, coming off side trails to the main one, heading to the central clearing. As in Lordavia, most of the villagers wore colorful robes. He didn’t look at any of them but walked close, hoping to hide in the flood of walkers. The thick leaves overhead were already blocking out the sun, and he knew it would be the perfect time to slip into the village and scope out the main section unnoticed.

When he saw a vegetation archway with vines and flowers hanging down, Dagdron moved to the right side of the pathway. He kept walking as if he knew where he was going, taking in his surroundings as he went. His eyes lingered on a dark-red building. Running plants and red, yellow, and pink flowers grew all over the railing of the second-floor balcony. A sign above the door marked it as the village hall. At the top of the stairs, a brown-haired man wearing a formal-looking dark-green robe was watching all the people. A sash with a golden medal hung around his neck. As Dagdron took note of all this, the man’s eyes suddenly looked in his direction, and he darted down the stairs.

Dagdron was going to make a run for it, but the pudgy man was surprisingly fleet of foot and grabbed the back of his cloak. The rogue’s hand fell to the hilt of his dagger hidden beneath his robe. The man’s eyes went straight to the Adventurers’ Academy pin, and Dagdron grumbled at Earl under his breath for making him wear it.

You’re him, aren’t you? the man said.

No, he is. Dagdron pointed at some random passerby, and when the man turned to look, he quickly slipped the pin off his cloak.

No, the man said. I mean you’re the adventurer Gwydion Gwauldron said was coming to Lushmere, right?

Who?

Gwydion Gwauldron, the man said. The headmaster of the Adventurers’ Academy.

Never heard of him, Dagdron said.

How did you get that pin, then? The man pointed at Dagdron’s shoulder but stopped short when he saw the pin was gone. What did you do with it? I know that was an official Adventurers’ Academy pin.

Oh, it’s not mine. I stole it from that guy. Dagdron pointed to another random Lushmerian, but this time when the man turned to look, he bolted down the street.

Wait! the man called after him. I need your help!

Dagdron heard footsteps running after him as he weaved through the Lushmerians, but he didn’t look back or pay any attention to the people stopping to stare. The sounds of pursuit stopped shortly after, but he kept jogging across the main section, knowing Scar would be proud that he was barely winded. He took a trail leading to the left.

After having crossed over a few bridges, Dagdron hadn’t seen anyone else on the trail for a while and it was almost completely dark, but he wasn’t bothered at all. He made sure to place each step as stealthily as he could so as not to attract any night creatures, but he walked more relaxed, knowing if anyone had followed him, they would have a hard time spotting his black cloak in the night. He paused when he came around a bend and saw that the dirt path ended a short distance ahead, where vegetation had almost covered it. Dagdron poked his head through to find the run-down house he had located from above the city. It was tall and narrow, the top disappearing in the jungle growth higher up. The stairs leading up to the porch were sunken in, the hinges of the front door were broken, and the windows were cracked or clouded up from years of neglect.

Perfect, Dagdron mumbled to himself.

He crept up the creaky stairs, where a barely legible sign read Venchurington. He shifted the door, leaving it askew so he could crawl in the small space at the bottom. The interior was dusty and dirty but still furnished. The bottom floor had a living room, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, and dining room. After a quick walkthrough, Dagdron headed up the steep staircase, stopping on each floor. The second floor only had two rooms. One was a bedroom, and the other had a small table in one corner, and the walls had wooden shields and swords hanging on them. The third floor had two rooms as well. Like the second, one had a bed and wardrobe, but the other one had three tables covered with bottles, flasks, and other containers. The air smelled putrid, so Dagdron shut the door and continued to the top floor.

He managed to open the door to the single small room at the top but observed from the hallway since part of the roof had caved in. A bed was pushed up against the wall beneath the window, but the only other furniture was a small nightstand next to the bed. Right when Dagdron was about to head down, he did a double take, as he saw a carving on the wall to the right of the window. He stepped through the door and took light footsteps to investigate. He pulled out his dagger and held it up horizontally. The carving definitely wasn’t as unspoiled as it had first been, but Dagdron could tell it was the shape of a dagger with the blade to the right. His eyes drifted in that direction, and he spotted starlight out of a tiny hole in one board of the wall close to the corner. He glanced back at the carving, wondering if he was just imagining that the tip of the dagger was pointing to the hole. He glanced up at the roof but then crouched down and crept as softly as he could to the hole. He pressed his face against the wood and peeked through. In the distance, lit up by moonlight and sticking out above the rest of the jungle, the hole gave view to a single tree whose narrow top almost made it look like the sharpened blade of a dagger.

What’s wrong with me? Dagdron grumbled. He shook his head and crossed back to the door, sure that somehow Earl was to blame for making him think he was seeing dagger carvings pointing to dagger-shaped trees.

He returned to the living room, lay down on the floor, and started tossing his dagger in the air to pass the time. A couple of hours later, Dagdron crept out of the house. He figured it was late enough that he could sneak into the village hall and see what quests needed to be fulfilled. Entering undercover would prevent any Lushmerians from trying to give him extra adventures, and he could complete the quests as quickly as possible and be on his way to Coastdale in no time to be Wendahl’s garden rogue for the remainder of the summer.

Lanterns made of vegetation hung from vines that had been strung between the buildings of the main clearing. They had magical balls of orange, yellow, and pink, casting a variety of glows along the roads. Dagdron kept to the shadows as he snuck along until he came to the village hall. He scaled the vines to the balcony. He crouched so the plants growing on the railing blocked him from view, and then pulled out his lock pick. The lock was easy, and the click came seconds later. He slipped through the door and shut it behind him.

A few rays of lantern light shone in the through the windows, so the rogue made his way across the second floor, glancing at the walls for any sign of posted quests. At the far end, he found a staircase to the first floor. He was content when he only found five parchments. Two asked for help finding lost objects, two for help gathering ingredients, and the fifth was an advertisement for a magic shop called Bluma’s Cauldron. Dagdron ripped the advertisement from the wall and pocketed it. He hated magic, but he had learned long ago that it was bound to come up, so he needed some place to go when it did.

He made a mental list of the lost objects and ingredients, but then he made the mistake of glancing at the left wall. It was entirely covered with scrolls and scrolls and scrolls.

No way, Dagdron said, scowling as he approached. Earl might want to fulfill all these quests, but there was no way he was going to.

His annoyance grew deeper and deeper as he read all the requests for help hunting down all sorts of different creatures that had been spotted in Lushmere. Goblins, jagtaurs, trolls, spumasaurs, witches, evil enchanters, and many others that Dagdron had never heard of. One parchment even claimed they had seen a fire-breathing dragon swooping above the jungle. From the sound of it, Dagdron couldn’t believe any Lushmerian dared walk along the jungle trails because of how overrun they were with beasts. He knew Mazannanan had commanded Avooblis to call forth all the dark creatures, but this kind of paranoia was ridiculous.

Ha! a voice suddenly said from behind.

Dagdron scolded himself as he whipped around, knowing he had been so bothered by the absurd number of quests that he had let his guard down. He brandished his dagger threateningly but then dropped it when he saw the man in the green robe with the medal around his neck.

I knew you were an adventurer, the man said. And I knew there was no way you could resist coming to check out the quests.

I’m not anymore, Dagdron said. I’m leaving. I’m not fulfilling all these.

Oh, forget about those, the man said. I don’t think any of them are real. I just let people post them to help keep their paranoia down. There’s only one quest you need to worry about. Mine. You need to help me find out who’s sabotaging the Festival of Flames and Flowers.

Dagdron furrowed his brow under his hood.

Aren’t you going to take your hood off? The man lowered his head slightly as if trying to see what the rogue’s reaction was. When the cowl remained on, he continued speaking anyway. I don’t mean that you can’t help other Lushmerians. I just mean that mine is time sensitive. The festival isn’t far away at all. Oh, sorry, I guess I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Mayor Frondish. He lifted up the medallion around his neck, which up close Dagdron could see had an engraving of the village hall with the mayor’s name above it. He extended his hand after, but Dagdron didn’t shake it. So I don’t mean it’s my personal quest. It’s really a quest that will help all of Lushmere, Mayor Frondish continued, dropping his hand. Everyone is looking forward to the festival, and visitors from all over will start arriving soon. They come to Lushmere just for the festival. We can’t afford to have someone sabotage it.

Actually, Dagdron said, I think since times are so dangerous, you should cancel it. You can have it next year.

Cancel it? the mayor exclaimed. We could never do that. Lushmere’s had the festival every year since my family started it sixty years ago. It’s our legacy. I’m not going to be the first mayor that couldn’t organize it.

Dagdron glanced over his shoulder at the parchment-covered wall and then looked back at the mayor.

Who’s trying to sabotage it? Dagdron asked.

That’s what I need you to find out. The special flowers we use for the festival shrivel up as soon as we pluck them. The flowers bloom quickly, so there are still some left, but if whatever’s killing the plants keeps spreading, we might be left with nothing.

Dagdron felt like telling him that maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing since the festival didn’t sound interesting, but he heard Earl’s voice in his head reminding him that an adventurer was supposed to help everyone, regardless of how dumb the quest sounded.

I’ll check it out tomorrow, Dagdron grumbled.

Thank the flames and the flowers, the mayor said. He was about to give more details about the location of the gardens, but Dagdron walked across the hall and hurried out the door.

Dagdron took a brisk pace through the jungle but still kept watch for any prowling creatures. He slowed his steps when he reached the final bend, glad that he was going to be able to lie down to sleep on the floor of his new house.

Crack!

Even the sound of the single twig cracking broke the silence of the night. Instinctively, Dagdron slipped off the trail into the vegetation, standing motionless. On the other side of the path, a dim yellow glow flickered through the jungle. The rogue slowly pulled his dagger from beneath his robe as he watched expectantly for the evil creature to emerge from the brush as the light grew brighter and brighter. He loosened his grip when he saw that it was just a man. He carried a yellow bauble that was giving off the glow and had a painting canvas tucked under his arm. But then Dagdron’s grip tightened again when he saw the blue robe of the tall man. He was about to dash out and threaten Headmaster Gwauldron for not only letting Lushmere know he was coming, but also for having followed him on his quest as well, but then he stopped himself. While the man had white hair and bushy eyebrows, he didn’t have a spiked goatee and definitely wasn’t the headmaster.

Dagdron relaxed and leaned against the tree, content to wait until the man decided to leave.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Dagdron jumped to attention as the man yelled in fright. At first he didn’t see anything, but then a yellow light blazed across the trail, followed by three orange fireballs. A yellow creature had floated on the pathway, her wings flapping to keep her in the air. Her scaly body was four feet long and curved like an S with a dragon head and spiked tail. The man ducked two of the fireballs that had shot from the fang-filled mouth, but the third one hit him square in the back, knocking him to the ground. His robe caught fire, and the bauble fell from his hand. The man had enough sense to use his momentum to continue rolling to smother the flames, but the creature flew toward him, now set on using her sharp teeth to attack.

Dagdron sighed as he heard Earl’s voice in his head telling him to charge. As a rogue, he would’ve much preferred not to have to face a creature head on, but due to the urgent circumstances, he knew he would have to take a warrior’s approach.

Dagdron burst from the vegetation, surprising the creature. She veered in the air and breathed three fireballs at the rogue. He dodged to the left to avoid the first one, dodged to the right to miss the second, and then dropped to the ground and did a somersault under the third. As he finished the roll, he lunged upward with his dagger, piercing the tail of the beast. The creature straightened the top curve of her body, lifting her head and roaring with rage, but then turned and flew into the jungle, Dagdron’s dagger yanking free as she went. The pathway was plunged into darkness as the yellow glow of the creature’s body was extinguished.

Dagdron kept his dagger wielded in case the beast came back, but then he whipped around when he heard running footsteps. The man in the blue robe had gotten to his feet, collected the bauble, and was sprinting down the trail, the canvas tucked under his arm.

The rogue shrugged and turned in the opposite direction, figuring whatever the creature was at least she would deter people from trespassing on his new property.

Chapter 2: Lushmerian Lanterns

Dagdron had never been a late sleeper, but his nighttime caper and fight with the dragon creature had exhausted him, so it was midmorning when he opened his eyes. His first order of business was to wander the jungle trails until he caught the scent of sausages. He followed the smell to a bridge and crossed the Venchurington Stream into a clearing. The houses were small but colorful, and the main pathway was filled with shops and stands selling crafts, foods, and a variety of magical potions and objects. He located the nearest stand with sausages. Since the breakfast rush was over, all the meat had been cooked and was just waiting on the grill for the taking. The rogue timed his walk perfectly, sidling up to the stand just as the owner turned his back. In one quick motion, he stabbed two sausages without breaking his stride and continued on, eating as he went.

With breakfast out of the way, the rogue spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon properly exploring Lushmere to learn the lay of the trails, bridges, and clearings. He kept his eye out for any after-dark opportunities. After he had a nice list of nighttime possibilities, he finally headed to the flower gardens. He had seen a couple of signs pointing the way on his self-guided tour, and they led him upstream, not far from where the Lushlante diverged into the three rivers. The garden was filled with flowers of red, yellow, orange, pink, and purple, each color growing in separate plots. Two canals of crystalline water ran the length of the garden between the plots. Fountains spurted up all along both canals, changing their elegant formations to water the gardens, near and far. A few handfuls of Lushmerians in green robes were working in the garden, some watering, some weeding, and some casting spells. On the far side there was a shed made of fronds.

Dagdron walked along the plots, examining the flowers, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. They just looked like normal, boring flowers. He took a moment to imagine himself pressing his dagger against Earl’s throat while telling him in a threatening voice that he knew becoming an adventurer wasn’t worth it. But then he looked up and saw one of the gardeners waving animatedly and then hurrying toward him. As soon as Dagdron noticed that the robe of the approaching man was a darker green than the other workers, he was about to duck back out of the gardens but then decided he might as well get it over with.

There you are, Mayor Frondish said, gasping for breath as he reached the rogue. I was starting to wonder if you’d make it, because last night you didn’t give me a chance to give you directions.

I found it easy, Dagdron said.

Oh. I guess I just thought you would’ve been here earlier.

Nope.

The mayor creased his brow as if trying to figure out if he had heard correctly but then shook his head. Well, the important thing is that you’re here now. Let me show you around. I’m sure after you see the flowers and I explain how the festival works, you won’t ever think about suggesting we cancel it again.

Dagdron didn’t reply.

As you can see, all of these flowers are grown especially for the festival. They have big petals that open up and that are strong enough to hold the magical flame baubles. The mayor stopped and pointed to the shed. The orbs are in their magic nests right now, absorbing the power they need to produce the flames. The festival really is beautiful. We place the baubles on the flowers where the Lushlante divides, and they float down all three streams, carrying the orbs with them until they reunite and all drift into the Cave of Convergence.

Does everyone just stand there and watch? Dagdron asked.

Stand there and watch? Mayor Frondish laughed at the thought. Of course not. Vendors line the pathways along the streams selling every type of Lushmerian cuisine and goodie you can think of. The children choose a flower of their own at the start of the festival and race along the shore and bridges to track the progress. And couples walk hand in hand in the romantic glow of the flames and flowers. I’m really shocked you’ve never heard of the festival before.

Dagdron had the exact same thought. How could Earl not have mentioned such a well-known festival? He shrugged, figuring he must have zoned it out, as he had a lot of Earl’s ramblings.

The mayor led Dagdron to a plot of orange flowers at the far end, where two gardeners were casting spells. Small greens balls shot from their hands, causing the soil to glimmer for a few moments before dissipating again. The young man was taller than the girl. His brown hair went down to his shoulders, a headband woven out of vegetation keeping it out of his face. The young woman had brown hair as well, and it draped all the way down her back. Her headband was woven more intricately, adorned with yellow flowers.

You must be the adventurer Mayor Frondish told us about, the girl said excitedly. She held out her hand, but Dagdron gave a short nod, so she lowered it again. The young man just nodded as he looked at Dagdron’s drawn hood with suspicion.

Yes, he is, the mayor said. Florian and Calantha, I would like you to meet...sorry, I didn’t catch your name before.

You can call me Earl, Dagdron said.

Earl, hmm. Not really a name you’d expect a rogue to have, but Earl it is. The mayor grinned, but when Dagdron gave no reaction, he turned back to the gardeners. Florian has been with us for many years now. He was born and raised in Lushmere. Calantha’s been with us almost two years now. She’s originally from Lordavia.

I miss Lordavia, Calantha said. I’ve told Florian and the mayor all about my experiences working in the royal gardens in the pyramid of Lordavia, but there’s something more personal about getting the flowers ready for the festival.

Dagdron remained quiet. He had seen the pyramid himself so didn’t need to hear about it.

As you can see, he’s not very talkative, but Gwydion Gwauldron assured me he was sending one of the best, so I’m sure he can help us out. Let’s show him the flowers.

When did you arrive in Lushmere, Earl? Florian asked.

Dagdron placed his hand on his dagger as he caught the tone of distrust in the gardener’s voice.

Just last night.

Just wondering, Florian said.

Florian, you don’t think Earl had anything to do with infecting the flowers, do you? Calantha said. When Florian just grumbled in reply, she turned to Dagdron. Sorry, we’re really nervous about being ready for the festival. Florian and I have been guarding at night but haven’t figured out what’s causing it.

The flowers look okay, Dagdron said.

They are gorgeous, there’s no doubt, but wait till you see this. Mayor Frondish crouched down and plucked one out of the dirt. He cupped it gently in his hands with a hopeful expression, but then his face went pale as the petals began shimmering and then shriveled up, leaving rotten orange debris in his hands. We can’t figure it out. The flowers grow strong and beautiful, but no matter what the color or from what plot, they shrivel up just like this.

Maybe the spells you’ve been casting at the dirt are doing it, Dagdron said.

Our magic is strengthening the soil, Florian insisted. The flowers have grown lusher since we’ve been casting.

Calantha placed a hand on Florian’s arm. The problem is our spells do nothing to combat the infection, and we’ve tried all sorts of different potions, too, but nothing has worked. The flowers truly are healthy until the moment they’re picked from the soil.

It’s the dark figure that shows up at night, Florian said, not even bothering to hide the suspicion in his eyes this time. I’ve seen him a couple times but have never been able to get a good look at him.

I’ll check it out, Dagdron said, turning to leave.

That’s it? Florian said.

Dagdron ignored the grumble and headed toward the exit.

Please, Earl, the mayor said, chasing after him. This matter really is urgent. We can’t have the festival without these flowers. Don’t you want to take some soil samples or something?

What would I want with dirt? Dagdron asked.

To see if you can figure out what’s causing the flowers to wilt.

I’m not a gardener.

Well, I know, but since all the gardeners in Lushmere haven’t been able to figure it out, I thought an adventurer could identify the underlying problems. I think it’s probably magical in nature.

I said I’d check it out. Dagdron pulled out his dagger, and the mayor stopped short. The rogue continued on alone, exiting to the pathways in peace.

Dagdron snatched a fruit kabob from a stand in the first clearing he passed through and ate it as he walked toward home. He wasn’t excited about investigating flowers in the first place, and if the mayor kept mentioning magic, he was ready to abandon the quest regardless of what Earl would say. He paused on one of the bridges, bit the last piece of pineapple from the stick, and tossed it into the river. A breeze blew through the vegetation, almost whisking Dagdron’s hood from his head. He wasn’t sure why, but a memory of the time he and Earl had climbed the mountain behind the Adventurers’ Academy to find a destello tree and cave lily passed through his mind. Earl had been standing on the mountain with the wind blowing his blond hair as he spouted about how great the life of an adventurer was.

Why am I thinking about Earl? Dagdron wondered.

He shook his head in disgust and was about to head off when another gust of wind blew off the river. He jerked his head toward the tree growing close to the shore. The breeze had exposed the trunk for mere moments, but he could’ve sworn he had seen a carving. He looked upward, surprised to see the treetop was the one shaped like a dagger. Dagdron hopped off the bridge and followed the edge of the river. He slashed the vegetation with his dagger to expose an engraving exactly like the one he had seen on the wall in the attic, only the blade was pointing upward.

Another one? Dagdron said as he started climbing the tree. When he reached the top, he had a perfect view of the side of his house where the hole had been. He shifted in the tree to look in the other direction. He could see the tropical hillside above Lushmere in the distance, but nothing else stuck out to him. As he got ready to climb down, his eyes fell on a third dagger carving farther out on the branch he was on. He nimbly moved out to inspect it. He balanced carefully as he looked in the direction the blade pointed. Upstream just before the river curved to the right, the engraving signaled to a bridge that had been built so it arched safely out of reach of the section of more rapid water beneath it.

Who cares? Dagdron said and then swiftly climbed down.

All he wanted to do was fix the flower problem and then get out of Lushmere. He didn’t have time to worry about who had left random dagger carvings around the city.

Back at the house, Dagdron lay down on the living room floor and spent the rest of the afternoon tossing his dagger in the air and catching it. In the evening, he ventured outside, exploring around the house as he threw his dagger at different targets. He kept watch for the dragon creature, but besides vegetation, the only things he saw were two strange giant blocks of wood behind the house. One looked like a sword had been jabbed in it over and over, while the other one had been stained with splattered circles of different colors. Dagdron stabbed his dagger into each one, but as far as he could tell, it was just normal wood.

When darkness started to fall, Dagdron set back out, looking for dinner opportunities and keeping his eyes peeled for the mayor. A meaty scent finally attracted his attention in a clearing close to the Gwauldron Stream. The typical lantern light bathed the section, and the sound of the flowing river added to the calming atmosphere. Many people were strolling along the streets, some purchasing food at the stands, others sitting down for dinner in the open-air restaurants that had been set up just for the evening hours. Dagdron followed the scent to a stand with a crowd of people around it. When he saw the sign advertising Lushmerian Lanterns, he almost turned around, but then he saw that his nose hadn’t deceived him. The vendor wasn’t selling the vegetation lanterns hanging all around Lushmere. His lanterns were made out of meat. The base was a chicken breast, the sides and back were stacked up sausage links, and the slanted roof was made of two juicy steaks. The cook had left the front open so he could place a meatball inside, just like the baubles in the lamps hanging around the village. And to top it off, he had an assortment of sauces to choose from to pour over the meatball to add Lushmerian color.

Oh yeah, Dagdron said much louder than he meant to.

The crowd around the stand chuckled as they glanced back to see who had spoken, and Dagdron knew he had just made a fatal mistake. He had broken the cardinal rule of a rogue by bringing attention to himself and in the process had lost the chance to steal his meal that night. As he fished gold coins out of his cloak to pay, eager to get his meat, he suddenly stopped short. He was acting just like Earl. All those times his academy roommate had talked about how great it was to get to know different cultures and sample the variety of cuisines around the land, and here he was drooling over a meat lantern. And even worse, deep inside himself he knew he couldn’t wait to tell Earl about it.

I’m never going to see Earl again anyway, Dagdron thought as he handed the coins to the vendor.

Dagdron chose a tangy sauce, keeping his hood securely on his head so no one could see how excited he was as the vendor doused the meatball. He grabbed the lantern as soon as the man handed him the plate and hurried off. Once on the trails, Dagdron slit his lantern apart meat by meat, savoring each succulent chunk. When he finished, his hands and dagger were covered with meat drippings and sticky sauce, but he knew he could eat that for dinner every night. He stopped by the river, cleaning his fingers and blade before heading to the flower gardens.

It was completely dark when he arrived, but the rogue still left the path, creeping among the vegetation instead of entering the garden. When he judged he was about at the middle, he slipped to the edge of the brush and poked his head out of the jungle. Only a few lights lit up the flower plots, but Dagdron still spotted Florian and Calantha walking casually up and down the rows but keeping their eyes mostly focused on the surrounding jungle. Dagdron crouched down to get comfortable, holding his dagger in his hand. He would much rather be hiding in Wendahl’s rows of corn in Coastdale, but he guessed this would have to do for now.

The rogue remained perfectly still except for occasionally running his finger along the blade of his dagger. He kept his head in the same position, only moving his eyes to look for any change of shapes or figures. Florian and Calantha eventually got tired and sat on a bench on the opposite side. He could tell they were still glancing for any sign of the saboteur, but he felt like going to tell them that they wouldn’t need an adventurer if they had any idea of how to properly keep watch. But before he had a chance, a dark figure was suddenly slinking across the north side of the garden.

How did he get in here? Dagdron wondered.

The person was extremely short, but Dagdron knew whoever it was hadn’t come out of the jungle. He had appeared as if out of nowhere. Dagdron watched as the figure approached two plots, and from what he could tell, stuck his hands in the dirt. The soil glimmered lightly, but it was so similar to how the stars reflected off the water canals that the gardeners didn’t notice. Dagdron stayed hidden until the figure had visited two more sections of flowers, and then he stealthily inched out of the vegetation and crawled along the edge of the plots, keeping his dagger in his hand. When he was only one plot away, he paused on the corner, waiting for the figure to reach the opposite side and stick his fingers in the soil.

And then Dagdron sprung, giving no notice to the flowers as he sprinted across the dirt.

A high-pitched screech shattered the darkness as the figure turned to run, but Dagdron raced as fast as he could and dove on top of the intruder.

I’ll slit your throat! Dagdron said.

But before he could press the blade against his victim’s gullet, a pale-blue bony hand gripped his wrist, and a mouthful of spiky teeth grinned up at him. It wasn’t a person at all. The saboteur was an imp.

Master’s plan, the imp snarled as Dagdron added a second hand to the hilt as he tried to force his blade toward the creature’s neck. But the imp raised his other hand, and before Dagdron could dodge, a white comet ball hit him square in the chest, knocking him backward.

The imp ran away laughing gutturally, but Dagdron jumped back to his feet and gave chase. Now exposed, the imp made no attempt to hide and ran across the plots, smashing flower after flower. Dagdron raced after him, gaining little by little, but before he could catch up, the imp suddenly disappeared in a flash of blue light at the end of one flower bed.

Dagdron dropped to his knees, digging in the dirt to expose a round, flat stone that had been buried there. As he picked up the teleportation stone, a round, green orb fell off to the side. He glanced at it but then turned his focus to throwing the imp’s stone forcefully against the ground, splitting it in two just as Florian and Calantha came rushing up to him.

What was that? Calantha asked.

The saboteur, Dagdron said.

Did you stop him? Florian asked.

No, Dagdron said and then hurried to leave before they could ask him any more questions.

Dagdron kept his dagger gripped in his hand all the way back to his house, all thoughts of enjoying Lushmerian cuisine gone from his mind. All he wanted to do now was stab Earl with his dagger for making him be an adventurer. Ever since the treasure trove incident, Dagdron had never wanted to see that ugly blue creature again, and now he had to figure out what the blazes Mazannanan’s imp was doing there.

I hate Lushmere, Dagdron grumbled.

Chapter 3: Grover & Bluma

As soon as Dagdron was back at his house, he wadded up his cloak, threw it on the floor, and lay down to sleep, but he couldn’t get that stupid imp out of his mind. He had thought he was going to catch a human saboteur, threaten to slit his throat, and be done with the whole thing. But he kept tossing and turning, because if the imp was in Lushmere, he wondered if that meant Mazannanan himself was, too. And Dagdron never wanted to see that creepy ancient wizard again, no matter what village he was in. At one point he sat up and was about to put his cloak back on and hightail it out of Lushmere, but then he settled back down with his eyes toward the door and a tighter grip on his dagger, finally falling asleep shortly after.

He was up early and left the house with his dagger at the ready in case Mazannanan jumped out of the vegetation. During his restless night, Dagdron had recalled the numerous times Earl had mentioned that when it came to magic, a rogue or warrior might need to consult with an apothecary or healer. Since he had no idea how to combat the effect of imp magic on dirt, he wandered the trails in search of Bluma’s Cauldron. He crossed all three rivers and then headed downstream, where he found an out-of-the-way clearing with three short trails running through it. Pastel-colored houses had been built with the jungle vegetation all around them on the outer edges, but quaint shops lined the middle street. At the end of the road, Dagdron found the magic shop. The dark-purple building had a creepy look to it because of the way the jungle vines clung to the roof and sides. And the miniature cauldron above the door was letting out purple mist. But the bright-yellow door contrasted with the body of the shop, giving a more inviting feel to the small porch.

Dagdron peeked in the window, not sure if the shop would be open so early, but he saw an old woman inside, so he entered. The interior of the store had the same contrast as the exterior. The shelves were lined with all sorts of jars and containers filled with strange liquids, powders, and creature parts, and a painting of a hideous old woman, who almost resembled the witch in the woods from Bodaburg, was on one wall. Below it were smaller portraits of young women. But plants and flowers were also interspersed between the magical objects, providing a more welcoming atmosphere. A gray-haired woman wearing a purple robe with yellow trimming was behind the counter. A yellow curtain covered a doorway to the back of the shop.

Even rogues have to take their hoods off in Bluma’s Cauldron, the woman said.

She smiled kindly as she looked up, but Dagdron could tell she was serious. He considered going to find another magic shop but decided he might as well get it over with and pulled his cowl from his head.

Who the blazes is here so early? a man said from the back. If it’s Mrs. Felpa, I’m not helping you lance her boils again.

It’s not Mrs. Felpa, it’s an adventurer, the woman said.

The man swept the curtain aside and stopped short when he saw Dagdron. The rogue glared at him. It was the man he had rescued from the dragon creature.

Do you two know each other? the woman asked.

No, Dagdron and the man said together.

But I’ll tell you why he’s here, the man said. He’s one of those money-grubbing adventurers from that worthless academy here to ask for payment. Well, I’ll have you know that I could’ve fought off that wyvern all on my own, so I’m not giving you a single coin.

I’m not here for payment. If I wanted your money, I’d just steal it from you, Dagdron replied, lifting his dagger.

Oh, so you don’t want money. You’re just in it for the glory. You came here so I can sing a song about your heroic actions.

I’ll slit your throat if you sing a song about me, Dagdron said, jabbing his dagger toward the man.

Grover! the woman said.

"Stay out of this, Bluma! I’m sick and tired of it. All we hear about is the academy. Oh, you must be so proud of Gwydion. Oh, you must meet so many amazing adventurers. Oh, you must visit the academy as guests of honor all the time. I don’t care if everyone else is talking about how the dark creatures are roaming the land again. I’m finished with adventurers. And I’m finished with Gwydion-obsessed Lushmerians. If they love the Adventurers’ Academy so much, why don’t they move to Bodaburg? I’d be happy if I never heard his name again. He wanted to leave Lushmere, so no one here should ever talk about him."

Wait, Dagdron said. You don’t like the headmaster?

Can’t stand him, Grover said.

Dagdron lowered his dagger.

Grover, do not talk about your brother that way! Bluma said.

How should I talk about him, then? Oh, Gwydion, you’re so wonderful because you abandoned your younger siblings right after your parents were killed.

You should’ve gotten over your jealousy a long time ago.

I’m not jealous of him at all.

Well, we went through the same things, and I’m not bitter like you, Bluma said but with a sympathetic voice.

Oh, you guys aren’t married? Dagdron asked.

Married? Grover said. I don’t know where you’re from, but in Lushmere you don’t marry your sister.

Thank you for interrupting. I think it best we change the subject, Bluma said, smiling at Dagdron again. You better tell me about the wyvern. Grover obviously left out a few details.

I just need the wyvern to settle down for a few days until I can finish my painting of the nest and egg, Grover said.

That wyvern laid an egg? Dagdron asked, not out of interest, but if she was protecting a baby, then he would have to make sure he didn’t stumble on her nest.

When a female wyvern lays an egg, she excretes this luminescent slime to help with the incubation. It has many magical properties, so hopefully when Grover finishes his painting, he’ll fetch some for me. The egg doesn’t need all of it, so no harm will come to the baby wyvern.

Will it kill an imp?

No. Bluma shook her head. Is there really such a foul creature in Lushmere?

Before Dagdron could explain, the shop door banged opened. Dagdron’s face hardened, and Grover rolled his eyes as Mayor Frondish walked in.

Earl, thank the flames and the flowers you’re really here, the mayor said. Some people said they saw you heading in this direction.

You’re a rogue and your name’s Earl? Grover said. I can’t imagine too many people being threatened by that name.

I had the exact same thought, Mayor Frondish said. Anyway, is it true? Florian and Calantha said a creature’s been contaminating the soil.

Dagdron told the others about the imp in the flower garden but didn’t share that the creature served Mazannanan. He knew the mayor would go really crazy if he found out an evil wizard might be sabotaging his precious festival.

Okay, so how do we get rid of this imp? Mayor Frondish asked.

I broke his teleportation stone, so he won’t be able to sneak into the garden as easily. Maybe the soil will just heal on its own.

Over time it may, but that will take months. Maybe even until next spring, Bluma said.

Months? Next spring? the mayor exclaimed. This has to be fixed now. The festival’s almost here!

Grover rolled his eyes as Bluma tried to calm down the mayor, but when he kept rambling about the urgency of the situation, she moved to the end of the counter to consult a potion book. The mayor leaned over, scouring the pages along with her, until Bluma shut the book and stood there until he was ready to give her space.

"Why is