The Spirit Well

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Would that something be your boredom?”

  “Did I tell you I made brownies?”

  *****

  Kira remains sitting at the base of the statue, which stands on a large tree stump that is covered in burn marks. Made from green marble, the depiction of Luke has been placed in the middle of a thorn bush grove. Four paths lead to the wide base that lists all of his deeds and a few of his more entertaining mistakes. Three of the sides have an item embedded in the plaque while the fourth only has a scratch running along the center. Showing that many people come to pay their respects, piles of drying wildflowers and hand-carved sabers have been placed around the memorial. A permanent illusion has been cast on the statue, making it so that the path you take reveals a different spirit with the warrior. Kira refuses to leave the spot that shows Stiletto sitting next to her deceased love, one of the dog’s teeth embedded in the marble to act as a focal point for the spell.

  Knowing that this is a terrible place to have a fight, Nyx keeps her distance from the short-tempered woman. She runs her finger along the scratch, which cuts her skin due to the sharp metal inside the opening. The channeler shudders at the sight of the Sword Dragon’s head looming like a phantom on the other side of Luke’s statue. Being on the opposite path as Kira, Nyx sees her little brother’s backside and it gives her the sense that he is preparing to fight the monster. Warm tears roll down her cheeks as she creates a flame on her thumb, which blisters her callused skin. The spell is put out by Sari coating her friend’s hand in ice and then rubbing a healing salve on the fresh wound.

  “I always come prepared for you to do that,” the gypsy states, reaching out to touch the statue’s foot. Noticing a stain left by an animal, she tenderly wipes the mark away and pats the raised heel. “Can you believe how intricate this thing is? I heard the artist even put Luke’s scars within the stone. Never had the strength to take a peek.”

  “Without a body to bury, this is the best we could do,” Nyx replies as she heads for another path. Coming at the memorial from the side, the snake fiend is now coiled around the statue as if protecting its master. “I felt him die. Everyone thinks it happened when his body turned to ash along with the Baron. There was a brief, horrifying moment after that where I still sensed him and he was . . . confused. Almost like he wasn’t sure what happened or where he was. Then he disappeared.”

  “You felt him moving on to the afterlife,” Timoran says from where he is kneeling. Finished with his silent prayers to the gods, he raises his flask to the statue and takes a drink. “I believe this is better than a grave. Luke wanted to be a hero more than the rest of us. This proves to the world that he achieved his goal. Now he inspires others to do the same. Still, I wish he survived and could celebrate his birthday with us.”

  The barbarian slaps at his neck when he feels an insect land on his skin, a sudden burning sensation making him growl. He is surprised when he sees the smoldering remains of a burn fly on his palm. Timoran is struck by a sudden sneezing fit that scares all of the birds, his only hand unable to cover his mouth due to being covered in heated insect guts. By the time he is finished, the warrior is gasping for air and looking for a place to clean his hand. Not wanting to insult the spirit of his friend, the barbarian walks to the edge of the trees and uses a wide leaf that smells like salt.

  “Have you been to the one for Dariana recently?” Sari asks as she wipes twigs and leaves away from the griffin side of the statue. A wave of fatigue flows over the gypsy, forcing her to sit on the ground and catch her breath. “I feel bad that we put it so far out of place and it doesn’t get many visitors. The Baron turning her during the battle was rather public. Most of the stories don’t mention that she was under his control. We should find a way to clear her name. To be remembered as a traitor who was killed by her friends is sad.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine with it,” Kira says as she climbs the statue. Giving the marble lips a kiss, the young woman drops back to the ground and lands next to Nyx. “I wonder if Delvin is as guilty over Dariana’s death as you are about Luke. Kind of funny that the ones who killed their friends are together.”

  “You said you would play nice, princess!” Sari shouts while she cross the stump. Her heart is beating hard enough to crack its icy casing, which results in chips of frozen blood coming out of the gypsy’s mouth. “Nyxie tortures herself enough. She doesn’t need you adding onto her burden. We all miss Luke. I know he was the last of your loved ones, but your pain doesn’t give you the right to make other people miserable.”

  With Sari obviously suffering, Kira settles for shoving Nyx against the marble plaque. “She took my husband from me! We had one day of being married before he went into battle. He promised he would come back. Then she killed him. Why should Nyx get to live with her beloved while I’m stuck with the one who nearly took Luke from me? As much as I appreciate you looking after me, Sari, I can’t forget that fact. By the gods, I wish I never met any of you champions and that Luke had found another adventure.”

  Kira kicks the nearest thorn bush and storms away from the memorial, stopping only when she hears Sari coughing. Instead of leaving the area, she crosses her arms and sits on the other side of a tree. The others can still see some of her hair and the scabbarded sabers that flare from her hips. Without warning, a wordless yell erupts from the furious woman and the champions watch a terrified dryad race through the trees.

  “Sorry about that, Nyxie,” Sari whispers, her shaking hands fumbling with a tincture. It is only with Timoran’s help that she is able to take her medicine and not collapse from the stress of ice reforming in her chest. “Kira is good most days, but events like this bring out the worst in her. I sometimes forget that she eloped with Luke since she still uses the Grasdon name for business. Being known as Kira Callindor comes off as bad taste since their marriage is proven by her word alone.”

  “We should get you home,” Nyx whispers while she checks her friend’s pulse. Catching the falling gypsy, she is surprised at how easy it is to pick her up. “You’re light as a feather. I’d blame the boots, but I can see that you’re thinner than the last time I saw you.”

  “You said boots, right?” Sari teases with a wicked smile. Stretching her arm, the tired woman notices how tight her skin looks on her bones. “It’s nothing. Just haven’t had much of an appetite for the last month. Must be the new medicine. Been a while since I visited Pallice too, but traveling has been an issue lately. My temple always makes me feel better and Phelan is a pretty good cook. Glad he found a home with the sea elves. Please stop looking at me like I’m going to drop dead any minute.”

  “We’re taking you home and putting you in bed,” the channeler announces, her voice loud enough to be heard by Kira. Nyx can see movement on the other side of the tree, but the heiress never comes to help. “I’ll carry Sari. Not that you can’t, Timoran, but I already have her and she’s nearly asleep. Are you okay?”

  The barbarian shakes his head clear of his trance and fixes the young woman with a worried expression. “I fear that my mind is going. Is the memorial for Dariana in the clearing we found here or at the Spirit Well? For that matter, whatever happened to the Garden of Uli? I do not remember going there beyond that one time. With Luke being its champion, I would think that we visited it after his death. Does his spirit live there? I apologize, but I feel like these are questions we should have answers for. Two of our friends are dead and yet I remember very little about the events and aftermath.”

  “We should bring Sari home,” Nyx mutters, turning away from Timoran. She stops at the end of the path and grinds her heel into the ground. “I promise we’ll talk about this later, but I can’t bring myself to have this conversation. Besides, it would be wrong to discuss this without Delvin. He always has more answers than the rest of us anyway. If you want to stay here longer then I won’t stop you.”

  Timoran watches Nyx walk away, the half-elf carrying Sari like a sleeping child. A darting shadow follows them through the trees,
leading the barbarian to notice that Kira is gone. Not finding any answers in the silence, he gives a final toast to the statue and trudges after his friends. A cold wind makes him stop at the edge of the trees and he whirls around at the sound of a blade being drawn. Timoran catches the flicker of a figure standing in front of the memorial, but the movement is too brief for him to be certain it was ever there. Hand on his great axe, the cautious warrior backs away from the clearing and refuses to turn around until the statue is hidden by the forest.

  11

  Dariana steps out of the mangrove swamp and blinks in the morning light that is reflected off a layer of fresh snow. After altering her surroundings for an entire day, it takes her several minutes to be sure she is not looking at an illusionary land of her own creation. With a long exhale, the telepath removes the last of her tension and finds herself chuckling. For the first time in centuries, Dariana thinks she is at peace and on the verge of being free from her prophesized shackles. Her pleasant thoughts are broken by a cold wetness that seeps through her shoes, which she removes and tosses into her bag. Ignoring that she has very little time to finish her plan, the immortal takes in the pristine landscape, her attention momentarily distracted by a mumble in the back of her mind. The distant voice is silenced by a small twist to the dreamscape that the champions are trapped in.

  Satisfied that her trap is secure, Dariana scoops up a handful of snow and jogs away. The odd treat helps with her parched mouth and the looming headache is reduced to an easily ignored throb. She is unable to contain her happiness and does several cartwheels, the last one purposely ending with her landing back first in the snow. Rolling for several feet, Dariana hops up and hurls the last of her snack into the air. She moves an inch to her right and lets the snowball smash against her upturned face. Wiping the remains from her red cheeks and nose, the telepath sighs contently and continues on her way.

  “Where friends?” Fizzle asks, approaching the silver-haired woman from behind. He scratches his head with his tail and darts around his friend, unaware that she is glaring angrily at him. “Surprised you out. Others ahead? Temple clean? Fizzle not know what going on. Not sure how got here. Thought it night.”

  “The Spirit Well loves to play tricks on the mind,” Dariana answers, flexing her fingers. She smiles warmly when the drite faces her and rubs her hands together as if they are cold. “I thought I was still in there. Thank you for snapping me out of whatever spell I was under. Our friends must still be inside. Give me some time to recover before we return. Though it might be best that you go on ahead and I’ll catch up.”

  “Fizzle think stay together.”

  “But the others are in danger.”

  “Then we go now.”

  Unleashing a high-pitched scream, Dariana holds her head and doubles over. “I can hear them in the swamp. The guardian is making them suffer in order to cause me pain. It’s a telepath like me, but more primal and vicious. I need you to get to our friends quickly. Whatever has them is keeping me at bay. Distract it long enough for me to reach you. I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything more than to help.”

  The telepath moves to clutch her stomach as she pumps panic into Fizzle’s mind. She grins when the drite makes a loop and prepares to race back into the mangrove swamp. He is stopped by a lightning bolt blasting the ground and sending Dariana slamming against a tree. The impact knocks the wind out of her, but she skims the mind of her attacker and causes the paralytic beam to go wide. A subtle swirling of the snow is enough of a warning to give the nimble woman a chance to escape the icy maw that erupts beneath her. Vaulting off the branch, Dariana uses enough force to uproot the tree and soar at the red-robed form that appears in the sky. Her foot hits the powerful shield around Isaiah and she is immediately slammed into the dirt, the disturbed snow landing on her like a burial shroud.

  “For your own safety, Fizzle, I ask that you remain in the clouds,” the fireskin requests, his large feet crunching the frost-covered ground. In a growling language, the caster creates a hurricane strength wind that whips his groggy enemy through a tree. “You have committed many sins against your fellow champions. Murder, abandonment, rewriting their minds, and other acts that caused the prophecy to be delayed. Against my better judgement and free will, I agreed with the gods that you were pushed to those points. Now you’re betraying those who accepted you as one of their own and called you friend. It isn’t even a simple murder, but you are handing them over to the Baron. Why?”

  “Somebody has been spying,” Dariana replies as she shoves several branches away. She backflips and uses her foot to cut the incoming fireball in half. “I can’t believe you’re stupid enough to ask that question. You and Gabriel made my life a nightmare. Centuries of waking up, being treated like a monster, and then being put back to sleep. I’ve erased more memories than every mortal will create in their pathetic lifetime. My father can make the cycle come to an end as long as I give him what he wants. Long ago, he offered me freedom from my destiny and I’m taking it.”

  “Of course the cycle will end if the Baron is victorious,” Isaiah says before Dariana leaps at his shield. Crackling energy surrounds the caster as she searches for the weak point that he moves around the dome. “There will be no reason for you to be put to sleep again if he defeats the champions. The same would happen if your father is killed. Both endings grant you freedom and you side with a monster?”

  Stopping her attacks, the former champion rubs her bleeding knuckles and walks a slow circle around the fireskin. “That monster is my father. You and your predecessors are the ones who have fed me lies and tormented me for centuries.”

  “I was following orders. You couldn’t be left to wander.”

  “Was it because I was too dangerous or your master was afraid I’d disappear?”

  “Both and your mother didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Let’s avoid bringing up the pure and wise Zaria. I could complain all day about my dear mother.”

  When she darts the side, Isaiah transforms his barrier into a swarm of invisible fists that pound the snow in his enemy’s wake. The telepath gracefully dodges the attacks while her senses and reflexes are enhanced to react to the slight tap that occurs before a full blow. With a taunting yawn, Dariana catches one of the phantasmal hands by the thumb and spins to send it back to the caster. The fist hits Isaiah in the face, breaking two of his teeth and snapping his concentration. A series of pops and sparks ensue as the remaining spells burst. Determined to stop the rogue champion, the fireskin mutters a quick incantation and sends lightning bouncing along the ground. The attack spells miss their target, but create a big enough cloud of steam that the caster can disappear from sight.

  A sharp pain jabs Dariana behind her temples when she tries to get inside Isaiah’s mind, which is shielded by an artifact. The picture of a bronze pin between ebony scales flickers across her vision as she stumbles away. Shaking her head clear, the patient woman holds her position and watches for any sign of movement. Dariana is focused entirely on the steam cloud, so she is caught off-guard by Fizzle ramming into her from above. His blunted horns slam into her skull with enough power to rattle her teeth and compress her neck. The telepath mentally scrambles to turn off the pain receptors in the area, which helps her narrowly avoid passing out. Aware of Fizzle’s presence, she leans away from the next attack and delivers a sharp punch to the drite’s jaw. The strike sends him tumbling through the snow, but the dragon is back on his feet before he comes to a stop.

  “Two lizards against one woman seems very unfair,” Dariana mutters, beckoning for Fizzle to attack. Once the drite gets close to the steam, she takes over his mind and has him release a howling gale that wipes the cloud away. “That should even the battlefield. Go fly around in circles for a day or two, Fizzle. I’ve yet to decide what to do about you. Maybe my father will let me keep you as a pet.”

  The drite soars into the clouds as Dariana searches for Isaiah, the caster having disappeared with the steam. Even without
her telepathy, she knows he is still around and preparing another attack. Remembering what she had told Luke, the woman grins and raises her hands above her head. Wanting to make herself look like an easy target, Dariana crosses her legs at the knees and again at the ankles. The position will slow her down enough for Isaiah to deliver a killing blow, but she knows he would never destroy his master’s precious prophecy. In fact, the telepath is sure her enemy is holding back out of fear of being punished for such an accident.

  “I’m thinking the lightning was out of anger or you knew I would get away,” Dariana declares as she hears a footstep behind her. For a second, she sees a bulky shadow to her left, but the figure fades away when she looks. “You and your champions can’t stop me. Once I find the location of my father’s portal, I’ll put a permanent end to the game. The only way to stop me is to kill me and that ruins everything Gabriel has prepared since the beginning. The Callindor lineage, the channeler bloodlines, the Feykin, and everything else that he created to forge the perfect group of heroes. For a god who claims to accept free will, he sure hates letting it do its job.”

  “I can put you to sleep,” Isaiah threatens, appearing behind the telepath. A glittering spell is on his tongue, the slumber enchantment almost ready to be unleashed. “It wouldn’t be ideal, but I’ve been given permission to put you to sleep again. An addition to the spell will have your body continue with the others. They will be blind to the change, but the Spirit Well and the final battle will be conquered.”

  “I assume I die as a result too.”

  “That’s up to your father.”

  “Such a spineless lizard. You always have to get others to do your dirty work.”

  “Stand down and return to the champions.”

  “No thanks. I’m done with you.”

  Dariana spins around to deliver a bone-crunching kick to Isaiah’s side, but his bulky weight prevents him from being moved. Her hair turns black as she hunts for the enchanted pin, which is hidden on the caster’s tail. A burst of her full power is enough to shatter the tiny artifact and send its remains burrowing into Isaiah’s flesh. The pain makes the black-scaled fireskin roar, but the sound is abruptly silenced by his mouth slamming shut. He struggles against his own muscles until the rest of his body is taken over by the former champion. Dariana pats her enemy on the snout before having him turn his staff upside down and lift it over his head with both hands. His reptilian eyes are filled with hate and malice before the weapon is driven against his skull. The impact echoes throughout the area and is soon followed by a dull thud. Alive, but unconscious, Isaiah is left sprawled in the trampled dirt while Dariana happily skips away.