The Spirit Well

by Charles E Yallowitz

  8

  The caressing breeze is tinted with the taste and smell of salt, which only seems to affect Timoran’s keen senses. For the second time in ten minutes, he takes a few sips of Ifrit mead to cleanse his palate and tucks the flask into his vest pocket. The land has transformed from the solid ground of the forest to the softer earth one would find near the edge of a bog. Boots squish into the mire, which is becoming thicker with every step. Several times they stop to rest their aching legs and clean the mud off their soles before the layer gets too heavy. It is mid-afternoon when they come within view of the mangrove swamp and marvel at the unusual trees rising above the dark water. Patches of floating flowers drift among the exposed roots, revealing the swirling currents that bring the water to and from the distant ocean. The champions squint when they see tiny jets bursts from the depths, the shots knocking insects into the water where they are eaten by fish. Warbling birds and grunting frogs can be heard, but none of them are visible beyond the unexpected splash or flap of wings.

  A group of wild hogs swim into view and stop at the sight of the adventurers, their territorial squeals filled with enough anger to give the intruders pause. The brave and hungry animals look ready to charge, but a low growl from Timoran scares them away. Watching the furry beasts retreat, the champions notice that there are paths of shallow water that they can walk along. They also see that there are pulsating leeches latching onto the hogs’ hindquarters, which makes all of them mutter and curse under their breath.

  “Tuck your pants into your boots unless you have the power to keep leeches away,” Delvin suggests, nodding his head to Sari. The gypsy helplessly shrugs since switching out of her skirt means losing access to her weapons. “I think I have some strong alcohol that you can rub on your legs. Not sure if it’ll work or make things worse. Another option is to push through and let Nyx burn them off you later.”

  “I have an herbal rub that keeps insects and other blood-sucking creatures away. You should use it too, Dariana, since your slippers give you no protection,” Timoran states before tossing a small pouch to Sari. The barbarian finishes getting ready and draws his great axe to check the edge. “Does the map tell us the correct path? We keep checking and it never changes. I am confused as to how it is going to help us at this point if it cannot show more than a continental view.”

  “This is where I use the Compass Key. Whether it wants me to or not,” Dariana says as she tightens the straps on her amber shirt. Pulling out the map, she puts it to her head and tries to draw her memories out. “I was hoping to pull some residual energy off this, but it looks like I have no choice. This is where the challenge of the Spirit Well will begin. I don’t see any signs of traps, but that makes me even more nervous. Can I have the Compass Key?”

  “Fizzle not see much from high,” the drite reports as he returns to his friends. Scratching his head with his tail, he darts among the nearest of the mangroves. “Thick swamp with birds. Not much space for feet. Fizzle see herds. Place not look like temple. Too open and not special. Compass Key must change.”

  “We are about to find out,” Timoran claims before taking the relic out from under his Ifrit fur vest. Unclasping the chain, he places it in Dariana’s outstretched hand and takes several steps away. “History has shown that what happens next will be a challenge. Remember that we are with you.”

  Dariana nods while running her fingers around the central pearl of the Compass Key. She can feel some resistance from the relic, which turns in her hand and starts to grind into the flesh of her palm. Touching the diamond orb that symbolizes her temple, the silver-haired woman tries to force part of her aura into the gem. A dull groan emanates from the awakened pieces, which spin in their settings and work toward rejecting Dariana. Refusing to surrender, she claps her hands together and grips the Compass Key with all of her strength. Ebony veins run along her arms and neck, but nobody can tell if the energy is coming from the telepath or the artifact. The black ooze seeps from her nose and mouth, drying in the salty air and flaking away after a minute. It is a violent battle of magic and willpower, which the exhausted champion is on the verge of losing.

  With a shout of rage and frustration, Dariana slams the Compass Key into her chest where it fuses with her shirt and skin. She rises into the air as beams of light burst from the relic and disappear into the swamp. A low creaking can be heard from the trees, which rustle and begin to twist unnaturally. Wild pigs, otters, and other animals sprint away from their homes as the mangroves become an impenetrable network of dense roots. Dariana’s eyes are nothing more than glassy, white orbs as she is sucked into the natural wall. The telepath stares into the distance while her limbs are constricted and locked in place by the branches. A slender root snakes out to wrap around her forehead, the bond forcing her to face the darkening horizon. With a final shifting of the mangroves, the barrier is complete and the Compass Key goes silent.

  “Reminds me of Aintaranurh,” Nyx says, rubbing at where an enchanted tattoo was once emblazoned on her chest. The channeler scans the ground for signs of trap doors, but the trampled land is a footprint-covered mess. “Well we aren’t being sectioned off and nothing has attacked us yet. Not sure if that’s good or bad news. Any ideas?”

  “There’s usually a hint written on something,” Luke replies as he hunts among a collection of rocks. He stumbles away when a winged centipede flies at his face, the insect leaving to land on the wall. A mouth grows out of the wood and crunches down on the bug, letting parts of it fall to the mud. “So touching the barrier is a bad idea. I’d bet money that pulling Dariana out of there would be a disaster too. Really weird that this entrance isn’t nearly as aggressive or clear as the others.”

  “I could try to smash through it with my axe,” Timoran suggests, raising his weapon over his head. The blow is stopped by Delvin putting a hand on the barbarian’s shoulder. “Do you have a plan?”

  “No, but your idea doesn’t free Dariana. In fact, it could kill her if she feels any damage done to the trees,” the warrior replies before he gets close to the mangroves. Stroking his chin and licking his lips, Delvin tries in vain to peer through a narrow groove in the barrier. “Luke is right that this is a strange puzzle. Nothing attacked us right away and it doesn’t look like the Spirit Well is in this specific spot. I want to know what’s on the other side of this. That might give us a clue. Think you can take a look, Fizzle?”

  “Fizzle be scout,” the drite answers with a flip in the air.

  Soaring high above the wall, the small dragon attempts to take a look at the swamp, but all he sees is a foggy landscape. He can make out the tops of a few trees and there birds flying overhead, none of which seem important enough to report. For a brief moment, Fizzle thinks he sees the fog clear and witnesses the beautiful swamp in all its glory. The image fades back into the mist, making the drite think that it is an illusion designed to draw him into a trap. Wanting to return to his friends with an idea, he considers that they may be able to climb over and get at Dariana from the other side. Gazing down at the barrier, the drite can see circular rows of thorns on the top and an occasional mouth that appears to eat a hapless insect. Curious about the toothy maws, he dives to get a closer look and tap at the wall with his tail.

  As soon as Fizzle makes contact with the mangroves, the roots and branches erupt in every direction. He is driven back into the sky by the barbed, pointy-ended projections and loops around to rejoin his friends. The others are busy diving away from the barrage, which caught them by surprise. Delvin and Timoran hack away at the natural spears while Luke and Sari nimbly dodge them. Nyx attempts to strike the wall with a fireball, but the spell ricochets off the enchanted trees. She attempts several more castings that are violently repulsed, one of them coming dangerously close to striking Sari.

  “Why is there always something that either eats or reflects my magic?” Nyx hisses while she swings with her mourning star. The weapon harmlessly bats the branches away until the chain is broken by a hooked barb. �
��I think we need Timoran to smash the wall. You two hacking away at the limbs proves Dariana isn’t feeling the trees’ pain. The attack won’t free her, but it could buy us some time to make a plan. For all any of us know, a breach will end this whole mess and she’ll be spit out.”

  Before Timoran can agree, the wall surges with a collection of roots that race across the muddy ground. The living battering ram hits the barbarian and sends him crashing into Nyx and Delvin. Instead of following the fallen champions, the projection curves around to return to the wall and create a sectioned off area. Luke and Sari find themselves trapped inside, the pair continuing to dodge the erupting branches. Unlike before, they have attacks coming from every direction instead of ahead, but the agile pair fall into a graceful dance that always takes them out of harm’s way.

  “Just like our first battle together,” Sari says, allowing Luke to dip her. The gypsy flips and locks her arm to allow the warrior to go along with her momentum. “I give myself an hour before I get too tired and sloppy to survive. Think you can change into Lucy and fly us out of here?”

  “The branches would spear me before I finish transforming,” Luke replies, deflecting a spear that is heading for his friend’s head. The impact rattles his arm, but he is happy to see the point miss Sari by an inch. “What about using the water in the ground? Maybe you can freeze part of the wall and we can break through.”

  “I’m sure anything that deflects Nyx’s magic will have no trouble with mine.”

  “This entrance trap feels very chaotic.”

  “Maybe Yola tampered with it.”

  “That does not make me feel any better.”

  “Better her than Stephen.”

  “Good point.”

  The pair backflip at the same time and come down on a patch of ground that is surprisingly slippery. Instead of keeping their balance, they let themselves fall to avoid several incoming branches. Whatever is hidden by the mud is solid enough to send jolts of pain up their spines and make both champions wonder if their tailbones are broken. Rolling in opposite directions, the pair feel the edge of carved stone that their movements have begun to uncover. Diving away from the next barrage, Sari removes the water from the coating of mud to turn it into a layer of flakey dirt. Seeing an opening, Luke charges forward and slides across the area to turn his body into a living broom. The top of a granite pedestal can be seen with clear writing on the top, the rest of the ancient structure having sunk into the mire.

  “We have a riddle here!” Sari yells before Luke tackles her to safety. Seeing more spears coming, she uses his momentum to flip him onto his back where he sinks just enough to avoid getting impaled. “We’re running out of tricks here! Maybe Fizzle can swoop in to read the thing and report to the rest of you. I really hope you three are as muddy as the two of us.”

  Fizzle zips into the sectioned off area, the top part of the wall attempting to snare him with projecting maws. Spinning away from the drooling mouths, the drite stays low while going back and forth to get the entire message. He veers away from his path to trip Sari, which saves her from a branch that is lunging for her back. Heading for the granite slab, Fizzle notices that the earth is starting to squirm and quiver. Making a final pass for the rest of the message, the drite races toward the sky a second before hundreds of razor sharp roots burst from the mud. He sees Luke and Sari get thrown against the wall, the champions immediately on their feet and running from the new round of attacks.

  “Friends not have much time!” Fizzle screams as he returns to the others. Landing in Nyx’s arms, he takes in a large breath that puffs out his chest and makes the scales appear more pink than purple. “Slab in center say that wall strong in face. Weak when surprised. Fizzle think exact word is direct. Not sure what mean. Fizzle sorry. Long words and tiny time.”

  “Seems pretty simple,” Delvin says while he approaches the wall. Keeping his shield up, the warrior strikes the thickest branch and watches his bastard sword get launched out of his hand. “I don’t think it’s only Nyx’s magic. All attacks are knocked away. It’s a reflection wall disguised as some kind natural attack barrier. So we have to find a way to hit this thing without directly attacking it.”

  “Take a seat and let us handle this,” Nyx replies, cracking her knuckles and grinning at Timoran. The barbarian nods his head and takes several steps back, his grip changing to wield his great axe like a club. “This is going to be a constant spell, so you’re going to want to hold a position. Turn your body a little this way. Now raise the axe a few more inches. Better move your back leg to brace yourself.”

  “I know what I am doing, my friend,” Timoran interrupts, his pounding heart feeling like it is trying to escape his chest. Seeing more of the deadly spires erupt from inside the barrier, the red-haired warrior lets out a long breath and nods. “I am ready and promise not to close my eyes. Be careful, fire sprite. Our friends are still trapped inside and they might not be aware of what we are doing.”

  “Good point. Incoming!”

  Nyx releases a jet of flame from her hands, which races toward Timoran and bounces off his enchanted axe. The continuous fire goes into the ground at first until the weapon is carefully adjusted. With the spell pouring into the mangrove wall, veins of burning wood race along the branches and roots. Ashes drift to the sky and the entire barrier shudders as if being constantly kicked by a giant foot. A series of screams fill the air and the champions fear that they are coming from Dariana. Glancing over her shoulder, Nyx watches the telepath get violently spit out of the wall and Delvin make a diving catch for the unconscious woman. With her friend no longer in danger, the channeler increases the strength of her spell and watches as the barrier bursts into crimson flames. She stops when pieces collapse into the mud and they can see Luke and Sari huddling on top of the granite slab.

  “I’m so sorry about that,” Dariana swears when she wakes up. The woman yawns and taps at the Compass Key, which is still embedded in her chest. “I sensed what was happening and tried to stop it, but I was not strong enough. This feels like an altered entrance, so I worry about what is inside. It’s possible that me discovering the Spirit Well before the proper time created an opening for my father. Should we rest before continuing?”

  “Don’t worry about us,” Sari says, rubbing her sore backside. Feeling slow and stiff, she draws water from the mud to help wash her face and clothes. “Best not to let anything reset or give them time to prepare for us. Lead the way, Dari.”

  “Is Luke injured?” Timoran asks, pointing his steaming axe at where the forest tracker is standing. “Do you need help, my friend?”

  Snapped out of his thoughts, Luke bends down to run his finger along the edge of the granite slab. He waves to his friends and begins jogging toward them, stretching his arms to make it appear as if he is sore. Running his hand along a smoldering piece of the wall, the half-elf cannot shake the idea that something is different about this temple. He can see that a single pathway has opened, most of the mangroves at the edge of the swamp showing no sign of having been burned. With nothing more than a gut feeling that is already fading away, he silently joins his friends and rubs his stomach.

  “Sorry about that. Anybody have something to eat? I’m really hungry.”

  *****

  Sloshing through the swamp, the champions do their best to maintain their footing on the narrow path. Many submerged sections force them to sink up to their waists or higher depending on the person’s height. The cold water drenches their clothes as the changing tide creates a gentle rising and falling that makes the situation even more uncomfortable. Several times, one of the adventurers feels a tug on their body and searches to find a leech. They eventually discover that Sari can create a layer of ice to slide the blood-suckers off without killing them, which is less painful than Nyx using fire. Constant stops to remove the hungry parasites causes their progress to become slow and frustrating, the group’s mood plummeting as the evening shadows begin to stretch across the water.

&n
bsp; “At least we’ve caught fish for dinner,” Delvin says in an attempt to improve morale. The warrior pats the wriggling bag that is slung over his shoulder, a flailing tail striking him in the back. “These things are surviving a long time out of the water. Another thing that doesn’t make any sense here. Oh, guess they’re done. That was strange.”

  “If we’re already on the temple grounds then where’s the guardian?” Luke asks, earning a groan from his friends. The forest tracker sighs and rubs at his saber hilts while falling to the back of the procession. “Sorry for asking so many questions. This place just isn’t like the other temples. We’ve always run into the guardians rather quickly. Why would this place be any different?”

  “The land has changed since its creation,” Dariana answers from the front of the line. The telepath stops to check the Compass Key, the beams of light flickering until she turns to her right. “The Spirit Well used to be closer to the border, but the Great Cataclysm dragged it into the center of the swamp. I believe the guardian lives inside the well, so it might not know we’re here. Another option is that it is dormant like the Akota and the Brocken Dragon. So you can see that not every temple gave you an immediate guide. In fact, the Garden of Uli seems to have had more in common with this place than the other temples.”

  “Just calm down, little brother,” Nyx demands, her voice made harsher due to her rising temper. The channeler scratches at one of the marks left by a leech, the circle beginning to bleed again. “Nothing is the same with these places. Helgard’s entrance was destroyed and we didn’t have the right people for Aintaranurh. Things change and we adapt. Although, I will admit that this trudging through leech-infested waters is annoying. As far as temples are concerned this isn’t impressing me.”