The Spirit Well

by Charles E Yallowitz

  No longer feeling hungry and tired, feathers sprout from Luke’s body as he races toward a mangrove. Wings burst from his back, one of them inadvertently shoving his invisible enemy into the water. Unable to fight effectively, the griffin escapes and soars over the swamp in the hopes of locating one of her two remaining friends.

  *****

  “Are you guys converted or purebred werewolves?” Delvin asks as he balances on the narrow path. Several bipedal wolves have him surrounded, the stench of wet dog wafting off their hairy bodies. “I’m going with converted since none of you are talking. There’s also a few scraps of clothes on you, which means you change against your will. Still not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. At least we don’t have a moon to make things worse.”

  Clouds that the warrior never realized were there part to reveal the winter moon, its blue light falling upon the snarling creatures. Delvin groans as the werewolves get bigger and an azure shimmer ripples along their smooth claws, the natural weapons developing a metallic sheen. Knowing he needs magic to harm the lycanthropes, the calm swordsman puts enough magic into his blade to make it hum softly. One of the monsters lunges forward, its swipe skittering off the warrior’s shield and leaving its thick neck open. An upward slice removes the creature’s head, which the champion kicks into the swamp. To Delvin’s shock and morbid amusement, the body continues flailing even after it is tripped into the water.

  With a cacophony of howls, the rest of the pack tries to charge and practically scramble over each other to reach their prey. The warrior’s bastard sword sends chunks of werewolf flying and his shield bats several enemies into the swamp. He is thankful that they are terrible swimmers, the creatures always desperately struggling to return to land. Hacking off the leg of one beast, he whirls around to face the next one while backhanding the hopping monster in the face. Before the injured werewolf falls, it slashes Delvin hard enough to break the warrior’s chainmail and reach his flesh. A maddening heat runs through the champion’s veins, forcing him to focus his power on purging the lycanthropy curse from his body. It is a taxing effort that leaves him barely able to defend himself against the rest of the pack.

  A roaring screech startles the werewolves and brings a smile to Delvin’s face as he returns his sword to its scabbard. He loosens his shield enough that he can switch hands and use it as a blunt object to keep the monsters away. The creatures are more concerned about their unseen enemy, but they continue swarming toward the warrior who is delivering blows that send shivers through their muscles. Whenever they knock the disc from Delvin’s grasp, he calls the disc back to his forearm and delivers a ringing strike to the nearest muzzle. Before he is overrun, the griffin dives out of the sky with enough speed to unleash a hurricane strength gust that sends half of the pack bouncing into the swamp. The champion sprints along the open side of the path to avoid getting caught in the next attack, which is a spiraling collision that scatters the rest of the werewolves. Terrified of the aggressive threat, the lycanthropes swim yelping into the distant shadows.

  Transforming in midair, Luke drops onto the path in front of Delvin and helps the warrior to his feet. “Whoever we’re up against took Timoran and Sari. Right from under my nose too. I fought some invisible enemy who might have had telepathy. Timoran and I were guessing that a psychic threat would be pitted against Dariana. If so then it makes sense that she was kidnapped first. Nyx would be the second choice due to her magic. That’s all we managed to talk about before we were attacked.”

  “That’s a lot to absorb in one breath,” Delvin says, squeezing the half-elf’s shoulder to calm him down. Tightening his grip and holding out his shield, the warrior focuses his thoughts on his fiancée. “I know exactly how to reach them. Nyx, I want to come home . . . That’s supposed to work immediately.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t try to use that earlier,” Luke admits as he leads the way along the narrow road. The pair step onto a wide swath of earth that appears as the shadows are driven away by the moonlight. “Probably for the best since that could have put you alone in the middle of a monster’s lair. Honestly, you really should have stayed with us. Timoran and I had a good discussion about how this place doesn’t feel right. Actually, we got attacked as we were making progress with our theories.”

  “Then we probably shouldn’t talk about it,” the other warrior bluntly states while crouching to touch the dried mud. Seeing movement beneath the ground, he wipes the top layer away to reveal a cluster of earthworms. “This is ridiculous, Luke. The others can be anywhere. For all we know, they’re in the opposite direction. I keep checking the sky for Fizzle, but he might be captured as well. The two of us need to think of a plan and consider our strengths. There’s too much magic and life around here for me to pinpoint anything. Your senses aren’t able to cover the whole swamp. This would be a lot easier if it was daytime.”

  A wave of discomfort passes through the warriors, their flesh crawling for several seconds that feel like minutes. Drawing their weapons, Luke and Delvin move back to back, leaving only an inch of space for maneuvering. Fearing that they can be kidnapped without the other’s knowledge, the champions repeatedly shift to make noise or bump elbows. With a splintering crack, Tavon and the stars vanishing in the blink of an eye and the swamp is plunged into darkness. From behind the champions, a line of white steadily turns into a blinding sunrise that drives all of the nocturnal animals into their homes. The blazing sun moves swiftly until it looms over the mangroves and abruptly stops.

  “It came from the wrong direction,” Luke points out while nervously tapping his foot on the ground. He moves away from his friend and scans the sky for Fizzle, but the drite is still nowhere to be seen. “This is such an obvious trap. Not sure if we’re being insulted or underestimated. It could be both since there’s only two of us.”

  “I’ve found that going into a trap while knowing it’s a trap can be an advantage,” Delvin says as he reaches back to feel his damaged armor. His hand comes away with blood from the itching wound that he refuses to waste energy on. “Betting the Spirit Well is directly under the sun. Any ideas on how to get there? We can do the old warrior and noble steed method if you feel up to it.”

  “Or we can take the path,” the half-elf suggests, nodding his head toward a long line of muddy earth. He can see salamanders and frogs moving across the muck that is gradually seeping back into the water. “Looks like it’s recently risen. I’d bet that most of the paths and islands have been created as we move along. Do you remember this thing appearing? Both of us were looking in this direction and it just showed up. I know I keep saying stuff like this, but that’s really strange.”

  “Like it wasn’t there, but it’s always been there.”

  “Thanks for not clearing that up.”

  “Made more sense in my head.”

  “So into the obvious trap where we either rescue or join our friends?”

  “Champions with female griffin spirits in their body first.”

  “Such a gentleman.”

  *****

  Luke and Delvin are surprised to find themselves on a circular island at the edge of the mangrove swamp. Marked with patches of dirt, a tight network of flowering roots have grown out of the treetops to create a protective dome. Thin gaps let in enough wind and sunlight to nourish the plants and allow those inside to view their surroundings. Filling the island with an incessant buzzing, numerous bees dart between the flowers and hives that are embedded in the ground. The open ocean is on the other side of a single, thin row of trees, which breaks the incoming waves into gentler currents. Fishermen are working hard a mile away, none of them taking notice of the champions and the events that are unfolding. Even when a man paddles his boat by the island, he stares ahead and acts as if the adventurers are invisible. Unlike the oblivious men and women, the animals are fully aware of the situation, which makes the warriors wonder if the beasts are intricate illusions.

  Placed in the center of the island, six crystal coffi
ns have been arranged in a circle. The boxes are fused to the earth, their bottoms spreading out like ivory veins. Transparent lids allow Luke and Delvin to see inside as long as the sun is not transforming the covering into a sheet of shimmering light. The coffins are positioned to face each other and those inside are in a death-like slumber, the only sign they are still alive is the twitching of their faces. Fully armed and clothed, the captured champions look no different than before they were taken, including the patches of dirt from their traveling. Winding threads come out of the large, dimpled gems that are attached to the top of the caskets. This energy merges and coils to create a strange pillar that is no taller than Timoran’s waist.

  Turning to his companion, Delvin opens his mouth to speak when an invisible force knocks him into one of the empty coffins. An oily shimmer rolls over the lid, which solidifies with a soft crinkling sound. Entranced and robbed of his free will, the warrior sheathes his sword and rolls onto his back, a glazed look in his ice blue eyes. All of the tension seeps from his muscles and he flashes a gleeful smile, which grows when he hears Nyx’s distant voice. Delvin’s breathing slows until it is barely noticeable and he joins his friends in their mysterious slumber. The moment his eyes close, the gem on top of his coffin releases its threads, which causes the central pillar to grow taller.

  “Two open caskets,” Luke whispers, sheathing his sabers. Sensing his enemy, he waits for what he thinks is the last second and spins around to punch someone in the face. “Only once did I consider this was what was really going on. I couldn’t figure out why people kept snapping at me for asking questions when we were all having doubts. Thought it was our enemy getting scared of me coming so close to the truth. Made me wonder why that would be a problem unless we knew who we were up against. So, why are you doing this, Dariana?”

  “Because this is how it was always going to end,” the telepath replies, materializing in front of the forest tracker. She wipes the blood from her nose, unsure if it is from Luke’s punch or her own powers. “I’ve been planning this trap for centuries. All I needed was a group of champions to get this far. All of your predecessors were idiots whose only talent was getting killed. Several of them by me since they refused to play nice. Guess I should thank you for giving me what I always wanted. Delvin and Nyx even got my brother out of the way. You have no idea how hard it was to not snuff his brain out like a cheap candle. That would have incurred my father’s wrath and ruined everything.”

  “It isn’t too late to change your mind,” Luke states, stepping away from the woman. He makes sure she cannot send him flying into one of the open coffins, his back remaining toward the swamp. “You’re one of us. Not just a champion, but family. All of the times you saved us couldn’t have been part of your plan. The fact that you’re taking us alive instead of killing us shows that you aren’t evil.”

  Dariana makes a feint that sends the half-elf leaping away, the look of fear on his face making her laugh. “First of all, I never wanted to be a champion. Gabriel did this to me because he wanted to upset my parents. Did you ever wonder why I would continue being his pawn when he ruined my life? You hear that, Hell Lord? I despise you and want your precious prophecy to crumble. Bet you didn’t see this coming!” She rolls her eyes at the rumble of thunder and darkening sky. “An impotent display of power won’t help your little weapons. What was your second statement? Honestly, I’m really only letting you talk to make you feel better, Luke. I could put you away whenever I want. After all, you’re the weakest champion and I’m obviously the strongest.”

  “I said you aren’t evil because you’re taking us alive.”

  “Evil is such a harsh term. I’d go more with devious here.”

  “Why aren’t you killing us?”

  “Because my father wants that honor and I’m happy to grant his wishes,” Dariana answers with a low bow. Streaks of black appear in her hair and a suffocating energy wafts from her body, driving the wildlife away from the island. “It isn’t enough for him to return and conquer Windemere. He needs to make an immediate impact and all of you are the key to that final puzzle piece. Killing the champions in front of his new citizens will reduce the chance of rebellion. If those destined to destroy the Baron fail then how can anyone else win? Everything is about appearance and reputation, hero.”

  Luke charges at Dariana and tries to kick her in the stomach, the more experienced martial artist jumping over his leg. He flips over her sweeping foot and uses his hands to push away from the telepath. A chorus of roars and growls erupt in his head, the spirits preventing Dariana from taking control again. Seeing that she is momentarily stunned, Luke rushes in to deliver an elbow to her chest and pray it puts her down for a few seconds. Instead, the woman grabs him by the wrist and upper arm before wrenching the limb into the air and kneeing her former friend in the gut. It is a powerful blow that takes the half-elf off his feet and dislocates his shoulder, the entire side of his body going numb. Injured and uncomfortable fighting another champion, Luke hurls himself away from a punch that leaves a smoking hole in the ground.

  “Just stop and get in the casket, Callindor, because you can’t win,” Dariana declares, cracking her knuckles. Not seeing the forest tracker as a threat, she reduces her power and lets her hair return to its natural silver. “The only way you can win is by killing me, which we both know is beyond your abilities. We’re not even talking physically, but mentally. As you said, I’m a champion. The prophecy needs me to reach its climax, so my death puts all of you back to the beginning. Do you know how long it takes for a new champion to be born? Most of you would be old and settled down by the time the prophecy could be followed again. You see, Gabriel never thought that a champion would turn against him like this. There were a few that got greedy, but they always eliminated themselves and the rest of the group. That’s not what will happen here.”

  “You’re right that I won’t kill you, but it isn’t because of the prophecy,” Luke says while nursing his injured arm. He is barely able to avoid the telepath’s leaping grab, the attack ending with a flipping kick that comes down on his other shoulder. The half-elf stifles a scream of pain as several of his bones are broken and the connected limb dangles uselessly. “We’re friends. I know that isn’t a lie, Dariana. You were genuinely happy. Forget what those other people did to you and stay with your friends. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been planning this revenge for centuries. In fact, it makes sense given the abuse you’ve suffered through. There still has to be a part of you that regrets betraying us.”

  Dariana grins evilly and licks her lips, enjoying the pain that is etched on her enemy’s dirt-covered face. “You know what, Luke? I’m not sorry.”

  The words send a chill through the forest tracker’s bones, but he is not sure if it is her tone of voice or another psychic attack. With only his legs to work with, Luke tries to kick at the advancing telepath. Refusing to surrender, he leans around her next punch and flips to drive his foot into her temple. The blow brings Dariana to her knees, but she easily grabs her former friend by the ankle and tosses him at an open coffin. With a scream of agony, Luke manages to move his arms and catch the edge of the casket. Before he can pull his legs free, a foot strikes his jaw and sends him slamming against the crystal backing. He refuses to pass out and tries to lunge out of the coffin before it locks, but a savage punch to the chest takes the fight out of him. Unlike the other champions, the wide-eyed warrior remains slumped against the side where he slides into a fetal position.

  “Now for a reunion,” Dariana whispers, wiping away the unneeded casket. She pulls the Compass Key out from under her shirt, the relic sparking and sputtering in response to her unwelcomed touch. “I might not be able to see you with my own eyes, but I know you’re there, little artifact. You’re going to be such a pretty bow on my daddy’s present.”

  10

  “I think I hear the baby.”

  “He’s with my parents until we get back.”

  “Which set?”

 
; “The one least likely to fight and curse in front of him.”

  Nyx mutters at the light that is peeking through a slit in the window panes, the beam hitting her in the face. Moving over, she takes the entire blanket with her when she tumbles to the wooden floor. Warm and comfortable in her soft cocoon, the channeler tries to go back to bed, but a gentle prodding stops her from falling asleep. The shoving becomes more insistent until one push sends her rolling away, the covers unfurling behind her. Remaining sprawled on the floor, Nyx pouts and waits for Delvin to stand over her. Playfully poking at his bare feet, she frowns at how he is never ticklish when she wants to get revenge. With a gust of wind, the channeler rises and goes to brush the knots out of her waist length hair.

  “You seem to be taking this day better than previous years,” Delvin says as he opens the windows. The soothing breeze carries the smell of flowers from the small garden, which he reminds himself to check before they leave. “This trip is never easy for any of us, but you always take it pretty badly. Not the worst, but you were up there. You sure you don’t want to bring the baby? I don’t think he’ll have a hard time with this journey.”

  “I didn’t like his cough, so he stays with family,” Nyx declares, wincing at every snarl that she yanks on. Warm lips on her neck make her coo before she wraps an arm around her husband’s neck and kisses his cheek. “Timoran and Tigris will be here any minute. So none of that stuff for a while. By the way, you never told me how you handled that issue at the academy.”

  “Selenia offered to return as an emergency instructor while I’m away and Tavris regrows his arms,” the warrior explains, shaking his head at the incident. The unexpected injury to his second-in-command has stressed him out for the entire week, making this trip even more important. “I kept warning him not to use live steel when he was sparring. He thought I meant for the students’ safety, but I always trust his control. Last thing I want to do is tell Mab that one of her favorites lost his head because of a first year. At least she found the arm severing funny enough to laugh instead of teaching the poor kid a lesson. Which of these two shirts should I wear?”