by Aaron Oster
Morgan resisted the urge to reach out and strangle the old man and just continued as though nothing had happened.
“Can you tell me where the other two Wells are?” he asked.
“I can,” the old shaman said.
Morgan waited for him to answer, then realized that he phrased the question incorrectly.
“Will you tell me where they are?” he asked, holding back a sigh.
“I can tell you where one of them is. But I’m afraid I can only give you the location of the third if you clear the second.”
“Why?” Morgan asked.
“Because the Well of Souls prepares your spirit, and the Well of Eternal Youth prepares your body. Without having bathed in both, you will never be able to find, let alone clear, the Well of Consciousness.”
“I see,” Morgan said.
“Do you, though? See?” the shaman asked.
“I think so?” Morgan said, his answer coming out more like a question than anything else.
“The Well of Eternal Youth will be nothing like the Well of Souls,” he said. “It will demand an enormous physical price. Not only that, but your soul is still in turmoil. Without inner harmony and balance, you will never be whole.”
Morgan just sighed and rose to his feet.
“Will you tell me where the Well is or not?” he asked.
The shaman stared at him for several long moments, then slowly nodded.
“The Well of Eternal Youth can be found at the center of the swamp, where the steps of twining silver form around the base of the Evervine.”
Morgan stared at him with a blank expression, and the shaman grinned once again.
“Head east for forty miles, then southeast for ten. Turn west, then head in that direction until you find it. You won’t be able to miss it.”
“If it’s so easy to find, why doesn’t everyone go there?” Morgan asked.
“Finding the Well and entering are two very different things,” the shaman said. “Also, the area is crawling with powerful beasts, and the mists are particularly heavy around there. Even getting in will be a job and a half, so I wish you good luck with that.”
“What kind of price will I have to pay for bathing in the Well?” Morgan asked. “And can I expect the same treatment as I did in the Well of Souls?”
“If by ‘treatment’ you mean ‘battle,’ then yes, you will definitely have to fight. As for the price…Well, it’s different for everyone. I would advise caution, however. Not even the King of Beasts could escape unharmed if he went in carelessly.”
“Good thing I’m not him then,” Morgan said, then turned to leave.
“Don’t worry,” the shaman called after him. “I promise not to tell anyone you were here!”
Morgan kept walking.
“Now’s the part where you tell me how grateful you are and offer to bring me back some sweets!” the shaman yelled.
Morgan used his Maximum Increase to speed out of the door, blurring past a pair of very confused guards and heading out of the city.
Having had to deal with the odd troll aside, he’d gotten some valuable information. It was information that he could now use to reach the Pinnacle of his strength and finally free Sarah. He still had a long way to go, but at least he was one step closer.
25
The swamp blurred by beneath him as the sun rose above the horizon, though it didn’t do much more than make visibility only marginally better, as the mists had been growing steadily thicker. Had he not noticed the increase in the mists, he’d have thought the old troll was messing with him, but ever since he’d turned west, it had been growing heavier and thicker.
He was still flying high enough to avoid them – and their effects – but he knew that once he reached the site of the Well, he’d have no choice but to land. Another thing he’d noticed was that despite him not being in the middle of a fight, the Beast King was stirring in his mind. He wasn’t trying to break out – at least not at the moment – but the very fact that he seemed to be aware of their surroundings definitely put Morgan ill at ease.
The Brutal Bayou was living up to its name, and he had to wonder why anyone would want to settle down here. Perhaps the trolls were all masochists who enjoyed the constant feelings of unease and outright terror, or maybe they just didn’t like guests and figured this would be the best way to keep the other races out.
Morgan sighed. He found that he missed talking to people, despite never wanting to when they were around. It was an odd feeling, one that was completely foreign to him. Perhaps he’d gotten used to Grace’s constant questions or Lumia’s calming presence. He even missed Katherine’s constant attempts to seduce him.
He sighed once again, then reached over his shoulder and pulled the spear from his back. It reflected the weak sunlight, still gleaming brightly despite the gloom. Its polished length showed no signs that it had ever been in battle, nor did it show signs of blood from when the troll had tried to grab it.
The slow, steady presence of consciousness floated back to him through his connection with the spear, and once again, Morgan tried to reach out to her.
“Sarah? Are you there?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
He had no luck, of course, though that didn’t stop him from continuing to try. After nearly thirty minutes, he noticed that the mists were so thick that he could barely make out the ground. And, when he tried to open his Aura Sense, he was nearly sent tumbling from the sky.
The entire area was lit up with violet light, so intense that he had to wonder how he wasn’t choking on it. He slung the spear back over his shoulder and shook himself into full awareness, now concentrating on the ground below.
With the mists as thick as they were, he was sure he’d have to come across the entrance to the Well soon, and he wasn’t wrong.
Just five minutes of flying later and Morgan saw something shining in the distance. In the dim confines of the endless swamp, it was strange enough to warrant an investigation. As he drew closer, Morgan just shook his head, realizing that while the old shaman had been cracked in the head, he hadn’t been exaggerating about the entrance to the Well of Eternal Youth.
There, towering from the center of the swamp and pushing away the mists in a one-hundred-yard radius, was a massive pillar of interwoven vines. As he drew closer, he saw the steps. Thousands upon thousands of them curled around the width of the vines and climbed into the sky.
He looked up, but no matter how high he craned his neck, Morgan could not see the top. Worse, as he approached the perimeter where the mists had been pushed back, Morgan could begin to feel himself losing his grip on his Flight skill.
Trying to muscle on here would be pointless, and Morgan now realized that part of the challenge would be to physically climb all those stairs. It seemed that while the Well of Souls was deep underground, the Well of Eternal Youth was apparently in space!
As he came within a hundred feet of the ground, Morgan crossed over the invisible barrier keeping the mists back and felt his Flight skill fail altogether. He plummeted from the air but landed without any trouble, forcing the murky water to the sides as he landed. His knees flexed with the impact and the soles of his boots sank a couple of inches into the soft ground, but aside from that, he didn’t feel a thing.
This landing brought back another memory, one where he and Sarah had been attempting to enter the East Kingdom by flying over a border wall. His ability to fly had been cut off, and his landing had nearly killed Sarah. The only reason she’d managed to escape unharmed was that he’d landed hard enough to shatter both his legs. She’d had to physically carry him away from that, as he’d fallen unconscious.
“We’ve been through so much together,” he muttered, reaching back to run his hands over the spear.
It thrummed lightly in return, as though agreeing with him, though that was all it did.
Looking around, Morgan noted a very distinct lack of something the shaman had warned him about — beasts. The area was completely empty, and h
is pathway to the towering pillar of vines was free and clear.
Well, he wouldn’t complain about something being a bit easier for a change, especially seeing as he didn’t have any time to spare.
He took off at a light jog, using his Earthen Shift to keep the muddy water away from his boots until he stepped onto the first of the silvery steps. As soon as he did, Morgan felt the shift. The change wasn’t just in the air, nor was it in the way the world vanished around him, leaving him staring only at the stairs and the vine directly to his right. It was more than that.
The pressure of this place. The way the very air seemed to be heavier, his body just a bit denser, and the quality of the ambient reiki increased a hundredfold. He wasn’t sure how he knew that last one, but he just did. More than that, he could now feel a calming presence coming from his connection with the spear, as though their surroundings were making Sarah’s soul stir more.
Morgan took a single step back and found himself surrounded by the swamp once again. The heavy feeling vanished, as did his stronger connection with the spear. If he’d had any doubts that this was one of the Wells, they were now well and truly squashed. So, steeling himself, Morgan stepped up once again, and the heavy feeling overcame him once more.
He began to climb. It was easy at first, and he all but ran, winding his way up the seemingly endless staircase with as much speed as he could muster. However, he soon noticed that the slight pressure was starting to increase. It wasn’t anything serious now, but if it continued to increase at this rate, he would soon have a hard time moving.
It was, of course, as soon as that realization hit that the first beast attacked.
The creature was unlike anything Morgan had ever seen before. It was tall, humanoid, and spindly, and seemed to be made out of a combination of twining green vines and silver light. It slashed at him with one of its long arms, claw-like fingers extending into talons. Morgan lashed out with a kick on reflex and sent the creature spinning from the stairs, where it vanished into the mist.
He stared after it for a few seconds, wondering if it was going to come back, before continuing onward. He’d barely made it up another twenty stairs when another of the creatures attacked him. This one, too, was sent spinning off into the mists. And so, the climb continued, now with the spindly creatures appearing every few steps to get in his way.
Just as with the heavy and oppressive feeling, the creatures weren’t all too bothersome at first. But, soon enough, Morgan found himself exchanging several blows before he was able to send them flying. Worse, with his body feeling heavier, he was beginning to slow down while the creatures were starting to speed up.
He knew that it wasn’t just his perception, either. They were getting faster and stronger.
Morgan was exchanging a rapid series of blows with one such creature, its talon-like fingers threatening to tear into him at any moment when he finally noticed the subtle changes that the creatures had been undergoing.
While the first of these monsters had been all hard lines and jagged edges, they were now starting to appear more and more human. This latest creature, while still far from a human, also looked a lot less inhuman. Its shape was well-defined, and it appeared a good deal more solid. While its fingers were still shaped like talons, they were much shorter and in better proportion to its hands.
Morgan ducked a slashing blow and used his Compression to blast the creature in the chest. It staggered back, and he spun into a kick, lashing out and striking it center-mass. The creature was hurled from the staircase, leaving Morgan to wipe a trickle of sweat from his forehead.
That was the first sign that he was beginning to struggle, and with no end in sight, Morgan began to wonder just how tough this test would become. He’d been going for what felt like half a day, but since he couldn’t see anything of the real world, he had no idea how high he’d climbed.
Reaching back, he felt at the haft of the spear. His connection to it was growing stronger, Sarah’s mind growing more active and conscious as he climbed. He was still unable to make contact as he had before, but he had a feeling that he’d be seeing her again soon. That thought alone gave him the strength to keep moving onward, trudging up the stairs at a far slower pace than he’d previously been managing.
Each step felt akin to walking through thick mud, his feet dragging as they tried to force their way through. He thought about activating his Maximum Increase to give himself a reprieve, but something told him that would be a bad idea. He wasn’t sure what would happen, but he trusted his instincts enough to resist the urge.
Another creature appeared, this one appearing even more human than the last. The silver light that had made up the parts of its body not covered by vines was now looking quite solid and, if Morgan wasn’t mistaken, was beginning to look a bit like skin.
The creature lunged, swiping out at his head with clawed fingers, and Morgan threw an arm up to block. He winced at the unexpected force of the impact and staggered half a step. He retaliated with a straight punch aimed at the creature’s face, but to his shock, the creature blocked. Its hand flashed across, knocking his blow to the side, and the monster retaliated, driving a short uppercut into his solar plexus.
Morgan had breathed out with his blow, which prevented the wind from being knocked out of him. Because of that, he was able to duck, sweeping the monster’s feet out from under it, and kick it in the chest while it was still off-balance. Shockingly enough, even as the creature flew from the staircase, it twisted, throwing a kick that clipped his temple and set his head ringing.
He sat there for several long moments, feeling a combination of shock and exhaustion wash over him. The exhaustion part was a given, seeing as he’d been going for so long in ever more difficult conditions. The shock, on the other hand, came from a certain realization, one that he was surprised he hadn’t noticed until now.
Sloppy as that creature’s attack had been, he’d noticed some very distinct and familiar movements — ones that he himself had repeated thousands upon thousands of times. He looked grimly up the stairs realizing that these creatures weren’t just using a similar fighting style. They were using his.
26
Morgan traded a barrage of quick blows with a man-shaped creature, who was starting to form distinctive facial features. While his attacks had once been sharp, precise, and packing more power than anything here should have been able to handle, he was now well and truly worn down.
He threw a punch, and the creature blocked, returning with a much faster and sharper blow that clipped him on the chin. Pain radiated outward from the point of impact, and Morgan staggered back. The creature advanced, summoning a silver hammer crackling with the same color lightning and striking his unprotected head.
A violet shield formed above him, catching the blow, and Morgan struck at the creature’s unprotected stomach using his Compression. The creature only staggered as the blow struck, recovering quickly. The hammer clutched in its hand morphed, flowing over its body and turning into a gauntlet that covered its left.
The transition was far smoother than previous creatures, but Morgan was fast enough to get his shield in the way once more. Lightning flashed as the bolts were deflected in all directions, sending cracks spreading across the surface of his construct. The creature pulled back to strike again, but Morgan lunged froward, the shield morphing into a whirling lance cracking with lightning of his own.
He struck the creature in the head, the screaming lance ripping it to shreds and sending motes of silver light spinning into the air. He struck with a front kick, his foot slamming heavily into the creature’s chest, and sent it flying off the side of the stairs where it vanished into the mists.
Morgan waited for a few moments, just in case the creature came back, then dropped to his knees, panting hard and wiping the sweat from his forehead. He was thoroughly drenched, through and through, and his body was covered in an assortment of cuts and bruises. His healing trait wasn’t working for some reason, just as his Flight didn�
��t, leaving his injuries to accumulate and grow.
He honestly couldn’t remember when the creatures had begun using his skills, but by now, he was no longer shocked when one of them used Stormforger or Compression. However, he had noticed something else, and it bothered him. He knew how his skills worked, and somehow, despite them being the same, these creature’s skills were different. Morgan couldn’t quite place his finger on it, and it was driving him crazy.
He looked up at the endless staircase, which was still winding its way into oblivion, and wondered how long he’d been climbing for. A day, two? Time seemed to blend together here, and as his exhaustion mounted, keeping track became harder and harder.
More than anything, Morgan just wanted to sit where he was and rest, but as soon as he even thought about it, the stairs behind him began to disappear.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m moving on,” he muttered, forcing himself painfully to his feet.
The air was so heavy now that even breathing was becoming a chore, and moving was so difficult that it felt like he was constantly walking with one of Gold’s chains wrapped around his shoulders. Only this weight seemed to press down everywhere all at once. It was like simultaneously trying to force his way through the thickest mud in the world while having his body forcibly pressed downward by an incredible force.
He kept moving, running into more and more human-like versions of the silver-skinned creatures. He collected dozens of more cuts and bruises, and as he came up against the most human-looking thus far, Morgan felt that he was just about ready to drop. It wasn’t that he wasn’t strong enough mentally to keep going.
He’d been through hellish training like this so many times that his will was unbreakable. His body, on the other hand, was just about ready to give out. Morgan knew that no matter how strong his will, there was a certain point where his strength just wouldn’t be able to hold up to the strain, and he was at that point now.
