The Spirit Well

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “It is almost ripe and ready to be plucked,” the Jewel Goddess reports by using a solitary serpent to talk. As she calms down, the deity returns her body to flesh and tosses tiny gemstones into the mouths of her snakes. “Whatever power is within the Compass Key is on the verge of awakening. There are pieces missing, but I’m sure they will appear in time. You know all of this, Hell Lord, so I don’t understand why I’m here. All of these events are as you planned. Are you getting nervous?”

  “Thank you for confirming what we were curious about, Jayde. I’m sure you can return to Ambervale now,” Zaria says, cutting off the dark-haired man. She waits for the younger goddess to sink into the ground and disappear before she faces Gabriel. “You are not sure what is about to happen, are you? As Jayde stated, this is all by your design. Is there something that has gone wrong?”

  “A few things have been unexpected,” the Destiny God says while he removes his cape. A hand-like cloud drifts down to take the garment and carry it into the distance. “This prophecy is like a play. I wrote the major parts and scenes that are being acted out. They appear in the right order and usually come to the correct conclusions. Yet some of the details are off and at least one actor has decided to improvise his lines. That little problem will be remedied in due time, so I am not worried.”

  “Then why waste Jayde’s time?”

  “Because this is the first time the Compass Key has come so far.”

  The beautiful goddess nods in understanding and goes to put a gentle hand on the man’s cheek, a gesture she is sure makes him uncomfortable. Peering into his eyes, Zaria watches his pupils dilate and become an abyssal black. The cold stare would send chills down the spine of mortals and most of the younger gods, but it only amuses the older deity. A jolt of warmth strikes the Purity Goddess in the back and she gets the sense that distant eyes are boring into her. Not wanting to anger Gabriel’s wife, Zaria removes her hand and shakes a few beads of sweat from her fingers.

  “This is a mysterious time for us,” she whispers, drawing an elegant longsword from behind her back. She stares into the flawless blade where a few hazy images appear, her eyes focused on the one topped with silver. “The Compass Key has never been in play for so long and the champions have never come this far. The last temple is all that stands between the final battle and success is in the hands of my daughter. One could say that Dariana has never been active for so long either, which means there is no telling what will happen.”

  “Not to mention her loyalties have always been in question,” Gabriel replies, enjoying the scowl on his rival’s face. Crouching next to a river, he catches a handful of water and casts the droplets into the air where they become rainclouds. “You do not like to accept it, but she has killed champions in the past. Yes, those turned on her and we have no risk of that part of history repeating itself. My main concern is if she can fully accept her role and fight her father. Not so much kill him, but stand with the others when they need her the most. Trust me when I say that the grand finale will push them beyond their limits, so each champion will be needed to claim victory.”

  “Arthuru has not been idle like you had hoped. Do you think he has grown too strong for them?” Zaria asks, her heart leaping into her throat for a second. She is surprised to find that her skin crawls at the memory of the Baron’s touch while her lips tingle at the thought of her former lover’s lips. “I know you do not enjoy hearing it, but we should plan for the possibility that he wins. Arthuru claims he will conquer Windemere and contain us on Ambervale unless the Law of Influence is revoked. Once it is gone, I doubt we can convince enough of our brethren to revive it later. We would return to the old days when gods toyed with mortals at the slightest whim. That did not end well for our kind and I doubt Windemere will be so kind if we falter again.”

  The Destiny God coughs and stops his companion’s voice, her words of caution making his ears itch. “None of that is my concern because he will not win. Even if these champions fall, I will find a way to create Baron Kernaghan’s downfall. Whether it be new living weapons, stirring a rebellion, or doing it myself and getting sealed, that man will not rule Windemere for very long. Besides, he lacks the power to prevent us from traveling to the other planes. Yola Biggs could have accomplished that, but she is no longer a threat to us. Trust me when I say that I have everything under control and we will prevail. Asking Jayde to check the Compass Key was merely to put a few doubts at ease.”

  “It is okay to admit that you are unsure of things.”

  “As I said, the only problem I am truly worried about will be solved soon enough.”

  “How?”

  “By pushing the pieces in the right direction.”

  A distant glimmer catches the deities’ attention, neither of them wanting to be the first to stare directly at the approaching form. For Zaria it is a mild disinterest in talking to Isaiah, who has made it a goal to repeatedly insult and openly hate her daughter. Gabriel simply refuses to acknowledge his agent before the black-scaled fireskin has arrived. It is only when the bulky dragon-man lands and bows to his master that the Destiny God turns to the mortal. Isaiah is gasping for breath after having used so much magic to fly to the plateau, his crimson staff emitting steam from its emerald top. The red-robed caster is on the verge of passing out until he leans down to take a deep drink from the rushing river. With a whispered spell, he is able to syphon off some of the Birthing Land’s potent energy, which gives him enough strength to speak.

  “I am sorry for my condition, but it has been a difficult few months,” Isaiah explains while facing Gabriel. He is too scared to look in Zaria’s direction, her piercing gaze causing his old joints to ache. “After I was returned to my true form, I followed your orders and helped the champions recover. Then I escorted them to Gaia where they will begin their search for the Spirit Well. I should mention that they have run into a small delay, but Nyx is more than capable of solving it quickly.”

  “Of course they have a delay. Seems to be a curse of mortality that important destinies get waylaid by life,” Gabriel replies with a twinge of bitterness in his voice. Taking a moment to spy on the distant heroes, he cannot stop himself from chuckling at what he finds. “Good may come of that since it can influence the next generation of heroes. That is another important goal for us, my loyal agent. If the champions defeat Baron Kernaghan then many will appear to take his place. After all, Windemere requires balance. With new sources of evil, those who come from any surviving champions, as well as others who are waiting for the call, will rise to start the greatest age of heroes our world has ever seen.”

  “Perhaps it is wiser to focus on stopping Arthuru first,” Zaria interrupts before her fellow deity can get further into his speech. Stepping in front of Isaiah, she takes his chin and forces the mortal to look into her face. “You know that I disapprove of how you treat my daughter, but I understand that you serve a purpose. Remember that she is a champion as well and this is her part of the path. Do not let your personal feelings put Dariana, her friends, and this prophecy in danger.”

  “I understand, Pure One, and am determined to assist the champions,” the fireskin adamantly declares, his mouth going dry from holding the goddess’s stare. He is thankful when she releases him and turns away, allowing the caster to take another drink. “The only thing I can do now is watch and wait for them to require my assistance. Considering Dariana’s past actions, it should not be difficult for them to cleanse the Spirit Well. If you wish, I could guide them to the location like I did with the Island of Pallice.”

  “That was to start them on the correct path, so there is no reason to take them by the hand again,” Gabriel snaps with more annoyance than he planned. Softening his features and taking a deep breath, the god puts a steady hand on his agent’s shoulder. “Be patient, Isaiah, and you will see the course that you must take. All of us appreciate the hard work and years of solitude that you have endured to guide the champions. Trust me when I say that your reward and a well-deserv
ed retirement is in your future. That sounded more ominous than I intended. Please understand that I mean you will be given a place to call home and spend your remaining days in peace.”

  “Thank you, sir. I will do whatever you ask.”

  “Good because I have a request.”

  “Yes, Lord Gabriel?”

  The Destiny God hums to shake the plateau and leans in close to the fireskin’s ear. “When the time is right . . . do absolutely nothing.”

  1

  Sitting at the head of the table, Nyx slumps in her chair and wonders if she can create a double to escape without getting caught. The barrage of questions and accusations has brought the raven-haired woman to the edge of her temper. She feels the intricate copy spell brewing in her mind, but knows casting it will result in punishment. Being so close to her goal, Nyx refuses to be defeated by her rage and is rather proud that she has withstood the mental torture for so long. On the other hand, the half-elf can tell that her opponents have not broken a sweat and possess the energy to draw this awkward experience out for several more hours. As her willpower crumbles, the tension is enough to make her violet eyes dart to the nearest exit and her pointy ears twitch at every sound. Moving her chair back, the channeler swings her booted feet onto the table to appear more relaxed. Instead, her seat is spun around by a small whirlwind until she lowers her legs and sits with better posture.

  “No feet on the table,” Willow states, her shimmering hair absorbing the torchlight. The elegant mistress of Rainbow Tower smiles at her adopted daughter, but there is a gentle warning behind the friendly expression. “I’m not sure there is anything left to say here. We asked our questions and you answered. Though I believe all of us are still a little . . . surprised at how quickly things are moving. A few of us might even be angry that we were not included in the decision.”

  “And two of us feel that this is not our business,” Cyril adds, wincing when his wife pinches his arm. The black-robed caster taps his finger on the ebony staff that is across his lap, the powerful weapon doing him no good at the moment. “Nyx is an adult and able to make her own decisions. My concern is that she is happy and treated with kindness and love. It appears that is the case, so this interrogation seems unnecessary.”

  “She got married and bonded to that young man!” Tzefira snaps as she crushes the wooden cup in her hand. The scarred Mercenary Queen removes her magic eyepatch to reveal features that mirror those of her daughter, her remaining eye turning violet. “All of us here are her parents and this is the first we’ve heard about it. No requests for permission. No chance to be involved in the event. Close your mouth, Kevin, because that gaudy heirloom doesn’t count. We only have one daughter, so she would have received it no matter what. Let’s just hope our new son-in-law treats it better than he does his shields.”

  Kevin Masterson slumps in his chair in a fashion that mimics his daughter, the veteran finishing his ale in one gulp. “I’m with Cyril here. She made the decision and told us at the first opportunity. Considering what else Nyx has going on in her life, we should all be happy that she’s given us this time. Though I do lament not being able to make a toast or spend some time teasing Delvin. You did remember to get the ring back during the ceremony, right? That’s part of the tradition.”

  “She doesn’t even have a wedding ring on her finger,” Willow points out, receiving a nod from Tzefira. The caster glances at the chestnut-haired woman at the other end of the table, the strange figure having done nothing more than eat. “Do you have anything to add, Casandra? I think all of us would like to know where you stand here.”

  The ancient channeler shrugs and gets to her feet where she spends a few seconds adjusting her crimson gown. With a yawn born from boredom, the short woman goes around the table and stops to put her hands on Nyx’s shoulders. From behind her curtain of hair, an orange phoenix chick walks out and hops onto the young half-elf’s head. The bird releases a few cinders that blur its master’s vision before returning to its hiding place. Casandra’s eyes glow a vivid purple as she examines her descendant’s aura and traces the thin strands that reach through the wall in search of Delvin. She is surprised at how fragile they appear, but every attempt to move them is met with resistance. If she pulls too hard, a sharp pain rips up her arm and threatens to unleash an attack spell within her core. Satisfied by what she sees, the channeler returns to her chair and claims another handful of figs.

  “Nyx and Delvin are bonded by magic, so there’s nothing we can do. Their marriage is their business,” Casandra states, ignoring the glare she receives from her descendant. Sensing tension in the air, she decides not to hold her opinion back and flashes a wicked grin. “Personally, I don’t care about what you people are complaining about. My suggestion is that she get to having children right away and continue my bloodline. That’s my concern and if marriage is needed to get her into bed then I’m-”

  “For the love of every god and goddess, all of you please shut up!” Nyx shouts, unable to take the conversation any longer. She leaps to her feet and slams her hands on the table with enough force to send every cup flying. “I’m not having a kid yet and we aren’t married! I said we started talking about it. All we are is engaged and bonded to each other for life. How could all five of you repeatedly miss that for the past three hours?”

  “I did it because it was fun watching everyone bicker,” Kevin admits with a smirk. He catches Tzefira’s half-hearted slap and kisses her hand, allowing one of her fingers to flick his nose. “You have to admit that you did a bad job of presenting things. It started with an engagement and then you rambled about a wedding. So it wouldn’t be far-fetched to think you eloped and were trying to pretend you were merely engaged. Even if that was the case, who are we to judge?”

  “We’re her parents . . . and whatever Casandra is,” Tzefira states, the Elven warrior refusing to look away from her daughter. She scratches at the scars on her face, the stress making them itch and burn. “I knew things would go this way and I’m happy for you, but you’re moving too fast. Be a regular couple for a bit before getting engaged. Your destiny might be a hurdle, but take it from me that you don’t want to rush into a relationship. Especially when you’re marrying a warrior and following such a dangerous path. Look what happened to your father and me.”

  “At least I plan on getting married before I have a kid,” Nyx says before she can stop herself. The rage on Tzefira’s face causes the channeler to inch her chair away from the table and she refuses to stare directly at Kevin’s pained expression. “I’m sorry, mom. That was uncalled for. What I meant was that you might not understand what I’m going through since you had a very untraditional courtship. It isn’t a bad thing, but it colors the way you approach the situation and I’m really not getting out of this in one piece.”

  Willow clears her throat for attention and moves to sit on the arm of her husband’s chair, the dark-skinned man appearing confused on what his wife is planning. “In that case, Cyril and I should be able to understand and give our opinions. After all, we were adventurers together and got married traditionally. If those are your requirements for a person to be involved in this discussion then we meet them.”

  “I still think none of this matters and she needs to start breeding,” Casandra mutters while she sits and hovers her feet over the table. The channeler waves at the angry stares she receives and casually has the chandelier sway in a circle. “Marriage ceremonies are pointless. Put on a nice dress, eat some fancy food, and dance until your toes hurt. All of that time and energy would be better used in the bedroom. I’m not getting any younger, so I want to know the channeler bloodline is continuing with more than the chaos elf and a few of the weaker ones that I recently trained.”

  “You’re not getting any older either,” Nyx mentions, leaning away from the pulse of magic that wafts off her ancestor. Her violet eyes jump from one face to another, Cyril being the only one who is neither angry nor insulted. “Look, everyone. Delvin and I decided to plan thi
ngs and remain engaged until after we defeat the Baron. There’s no time for a wedding or bree . . . what you want, Casandra. Just be happy for us and understand that you’ll be involved when it comes time to put our plan into action. This meeting was only to let you know that we’re together because it wouldn’t be right to tell you later.”

  “In that case, we need to discuss your dress,” Willow states with a smile.

  “Security is something to consider too,” Tzefira adds, crossing her arms and relaxing.

  “You can have the ceremony and reception here if you want,” Cyril politely says, receiving a joyous nod from his wife.

  “My main concern is the alcohol,” Kevin admits while reaching for the nearest wine bottle.

  “I’ll come for the food, but just let me know when you’re expecting,” Casandra requests, the hint of a mischievous smirk on her face.

  Nyx gulps down the knot in her throat as the others start discussing her future wedding and children. Their statements become less suggestion and more insistence, which reminds the champion that Delvin warned her about this meeting, especially since she requested that she do it alone. The half-elf can feel the conversation going out of the control again, but it is not her being under attack like before. This time it is more that one of the biggest events of her life is being taken out of her hands and she is expected to simply go along for the ride. Unable to get a word in edgewise, Nyx strongly considers melting the table or blowing a hole in the wall to silence her parents. When Casandra goes into more detail about what she expects on the wedding night, the blushing channeler silently prays that the Baron appears and kills her on the spot.

  “Need Nyx now!” Fizzle shrieks as he barrels into the room. The doors slam against the wall as the purple drite tackles Nyx with enough force to knock her chair over. “Sari and Phelan have big fight. He leave and she cry. Sari go to roof. Door locked. Fizzle no get in. Have bad feeling. Remember Luciana and Luke. Tower much higher than manor.”