“You probably don’t have to-” Nyx begins to say before she notices a flicker of movement in the distant hallway. Leaping to her feet, she practically throws Fizzle off her and frantically rushes across the room. “Sorry about this, everyone. Sari has been rather . . . fragile lately. New relationships, broken heart, and all that mess. I need to go check on her before she causes trouble or does something insane. Feel free to continue planning my life while I’m gone. Sure about half of it won’t make me angry. Love you all!”
As Fizzle leaves through the window, Nyx slams the dining room doors behind her and quietly locks them to prevent anyone from following. Unsure if she is being watched, she runs down the hallway until she takes the first turn and leans against the wall. The channeler lets the tension seep from muscles and notices that her ears are ringing from all the loud voices. Peeking around the corner, she squints and tries her best to spot the source of the movement she saw before. Having always had trouble with illusions, Nyx pushes her senses to their limit and curses at the beginning of a headache that she expected hours ago.
“What are you staring at?” Sari asks, stepping out of an invisibility spell and appearing behind her friend. The sight of her friend jumping makes the blue-haired gypsy laugh and teasingly wiggle her fingers, bits of ice dancing along her nails. “Let’s see your fiancée rescue you like that. I’ll always be your savior, Nyxie. Hope the folks weren’t too bad. I was eavesdropping and decided to step in when Casandra went into the realm of creepy. And people think gypsies and Bor’darukians are kinky? Your kind may have written the book on bedroom antics.”
Nyx gives her friend a tight hug along with a playful poke to the ribs. “Thanks for sending Fizzle in, but did you have to make me think you were going to jump off the roof?”
“As if that would hurt me considering I have my boots,” the gypsy replies, raising one of her legs to show off the leather and velvet footwear. Fearing that they will be discovered, she gently guides her friend further down the hallway. “Fizzle may have gone a little overboard when I told him to make you think I was heartbroken and in need of a friend. Still, it got you out of that awkward mess and into my clutches. Have I mentioned that your little contest with Delvin is adorable? Also ridiculous and kind of a pain in my perfect butt.”
“It isn’t ridiculous. Whoever finds the perfect wedding rings first gets to do the official proposal,” the half-elf states as if it is an old tradition. She is still not sure who came up with the idea, but it has been an exciting addition to their engagement. “I already know that Delvin asked Timoran for help, so you’re my partner. Did you find anything that might work?”
“You know, I’m a gypsy and a thief. Using me probably counts as cheating here.”
“This is love, which means no playing fair.”
“Not sure that’s how it works.”
“Just show me what you found.”
Sari reaches into her pockets and pulls out several rings that she carefully places on the floor. The two champions crouch over the jewelry collection and silently examine the sparkling pieces. Three of the rings are gold bands with diamonds that are placed in unique designs, none of which appeal to the channeler. Both of the young women are curious about one that has a simple ruby, but they soon notice several flaws in the gem. An attempt to sort them by interest fails when Sari focuses on appearance and Nyx concerns herself with practicality. Holding a silver ring with sapphire lettering etched around the sides, the half-elf sighs and places it back on the ground. Feeling defeated and exhausted from her previous ordeal, the black-haired channeler leans against the wall and enjoys the sensation of magic wafting into her back. She is on the verge of falling asleep when the sound of a slamming door causes her to jump to her feet. An apprentice can be seen walking at the far end of the hallway, the young man never noticing the champions.
“Thanks for trying, but none of these work,” Nyx states while rubbing her amethyst necklace. She watches Sari carefully gather the rings and a strange thought pops into the half-elf’s head. “Those aren’t illusions and they look too expensive for you to have bought. Where did you get all these rings, little sister?”
“Never ask questions that you already know the answer to,” Sari replies with a playful smirk. She rolls her eyes at the disapproving glare on her friend’s face and finishes putting the jewelry away. “I was going to put them all back. Some came from the marketplace and a few came from Willow’s bedroom. This big one was left sitting in a big room . . . with security . . . behind glass . . . You might not be able to take me to the museums around here for a while. Oh, and I may have made myself look like you to get through the doors, so you probably won’t be allowed in either. To be fair, you asked a thief to help you find wedding rings. That means this is entirely your fault.”
Fire leaps from Nyx’s crimson shirt and stretches toward the gypsy, who covers her body in a layer of enchanted ice. Before either of them can move, a geyser of magic-cancelling foam erupts from beneath the channeler. The flames hiss into oblivion and even the steam is devoured by the white muck that covers her from head to toe. No longer able to feel her magic and too tired to attempt a physical fight, Nyx can only make a bizarre whimpering cry of amused frustration. She growls when Sari reaches out to scoop some of the foam onto her finger and sniff at the thick goo. The channeler is surprised and disgusted when the green-eyed gypsy pops the muck into her mouth.
“It tastes like butterscotch,” Sari declares with a twirl of her red and yellow skirts. She reaches out to grab more of the foam and pouts when Nyx leans out of the way. “This stuff is delicious. No wonder you keep getting hit by it.”
“You’re insane. This gunk is horrid and I don’t like it,” Nyx argues, slapping her friend’s hands away. She throws a handful of the foam into Sari’s face, which stuns the woman for a few seconds. “I’m going to take a bath and nobody is going to see me until the morning. Bring those rings back before we get in trouble.”
“Do you want any company?”
“I want to be alone, little sister.”
“I can give you a water massage.”
Nyx stops walking away and bites her lower lip, the taste of the foam making her shudder and gag. “I could really use one of those. Fine, but I’m still mad at you and this stops when I’m married.”
“Or I can join you and Delvin in the bath from time to time.”
“Is it possible to drown a naiad?”
“No.”
“What about boiling one?”
“You’re so cute when you’re threatening.”
*****
Nobody speaks at breakfast out of fear of being the one to finally end the last three months of relaxation. After having an uneventful time on the plateau and using the teleportation gate to reach the Island of Pallice, the champions have grown to enjoy the silence. They all know that the final temple is waiting for them, which means a return to facing death on a daily basis. Yet there is the strong temptation to extend this unexpected period of peace for as long as possible. It is has gone unsaid that this may be the last time they can rest or may even be together. None of the champions know how much time will pass between purifying the final temple and facing the Baron. It could be months of journeying to where he has been locked away or the immortal may appear immediately and force them into a deadly battle. None of the adventurers like the idea of battling through traps and monsters then finding their destined adversary waiting for them at the front door. Part of them hopes that the Baron is equally as worried and confused about how their paths will finally cross, but they doubt he would be so concerned. With such stressful thoughts brewing in their minds, the champions have plunged themselves into a mild denial, which will come to an end as soon as someone talks.
Timoran coughs and pounds his chest to help swallow a large bite of bread, the noise startling the others. The barbarian nods his head in apology and passes a plate of eggs to Luke, who has already eaten three times as much as his friends. Lazily sprawled on a c
ouch, Sari has her eyes closed while she uses water tendrils to control bring food to her mouth. She routinely snatches fruit off plates, resulting in a brief tug-o-war with Fizzle over an apple. The drite wins when Luke throws a pear at the gypsy and she slices it into several pieces before the projectile strikes. Continuing their flight, the sections fall on Sari’s face and chest, which breaks her focus and causes the tendrils to splash to the floor. The water shudders and sprays at Luke, who simply wipes his face dry and goes back to eating. Even with so much activity, nobody has said anything beyond a morning greeting or grunt.
“Are you sure it’s okay that I wear this as a necklace instead of a ring?” Delvin asks as he dangles the bronze signet ring in front of his face. He watches the wild-maned boar spin on the chain, the design looking gaudier by the second. “It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the tradition or dislike the present. My only concern is that I’ll lose the thing. Makes it hard to grip my sword or shield too because it’s so big on my finger.”
“You can put it in your bottomless pouch as soon as we’re away from my dad,” Nyx replies with a yawn. She lifts her head from the brown-haired warrior’s shoulder and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m still not convinced this is a real family tradition. Wouldn’t be surprised to learn that my dad is having a joke at our expense. By the way, Cyril said we can use Rainbow Tower for our wedding. I think it would be nice, but I don’t know how we could do that with your entire tribe coming.”
“So how do we find the Spirit Well?” Luke interrupts in order to stop the couple from a conversation they have all heard before. The blonde half-elf can feel the air get sucked out of the room and everyone blankly stares at their meal. “Sorry about that. I know we’ve been avoiding this, but it needed to be said. Just wish someone else had to be the bearer of bad news. Why haven’t you brought it up or even tried to use the Compass Key, Dariana?”
The silver-haired woman remains in the open window where she has a clear view of the coastal city of Gaia. Boats bob in the distant port while griffin riders cross the sky, none of them aware of what may be on Windemere’s horizon. Wearing an old white shirt and black pants, Dariana appears ready to go back to bed instead of on an adventure. The telepath has been very reclusive since they left the plateau and all attempts to talk with her have been met with bizarre resistance. She has gone as far as putting herself to sleep in response to Sari mentioning a temple, which turned out to be a question to Nyx about where she could find the best potion makers. Even after the misunderstanding was cleared up, Dariana has remained aloof and nearly unapproachable. After several minutes of silent thought, she turns to her friends with a piece of toast still in her mouth, the melted butter dripping onto her chin. With all eyes on her, the daughter of Zaria and Arthuru Kernaghan takes a seat and nervously taps her fingers.
“I’m sorry, but I told you that my powers make the Compass Key argumentative when it comes to the Spirit Well,” Dariana sheepishly explains while rubbing her clear ring. She smiles when Fizzle lands on her head, the drite’s cool tail running down her spine. “This is very scary for me. None of the champions have made it to this temple, much less the final battle with my father. It’s hard to take in after this destiny being my entire life for so long. I used to always dream of how I would handle my temple, but things are different now that it’s no longer a distant dream. What if I make a mistake and get someone killed?”
“We trust you, my friend, and know that you will not fail,” Timoran whispers as he slides the Compass Key across the table. He is confused when the relic sparks at her touch and gets pushed back into his hand. “That is fairly disheartening. If you cannot use the Compass Key then there is no way to find this Spirit Well. Perhaps it does not like your physical touch and will respond to your telepathy. I wonder why the gods would create this obstacle.”
“It’s possible that we did this,” Delvin suggests while using one of his enchanted rings to create a delicious cup of coffee. He gestures for Timoran to throw the relic over to him, but the red-haired barbarian refuses. “You’re right, King Wrath. Probably not a good idea to toss something like that around. Anyway, we had the Compass Key warded against agents of the Baron. They aren’t able to see it, which means they can’t find or use it. The decision made sense at the time, but things are different now. Dariana is a Kernaghan, so maybe our spell has a small effect on her. Not saying you’re working with your father, but there could be enough of an aural similarity to cause this problem. Do you think we should cancel the spells, Nyx?”
The channeler heats up a cup of tea, which she sips at while considering the possibility of her magic being the issue. “They should stay because I don’t think they’re the problem. Dariana said this has happened before, which means the gods made a mistake. Sorry for how that came out. Gabriel, who better not get angry at this conversation, created the Compass Key first and then turned Dariana into a champion. He couldn’t fix the problem thanks to the Law of Influence, so it’s remained all this time. Though he had to have created something to help us move on.”
“Maybe we have to find Isaiah and he’ll lead the way,” Sari says from the couch. Flipping to her feet, she joins her friends and immediately takes a strawberry off Luke’s plate. “He hasn’t been much help since the first temple, so one has to wonder what his purpose is. I doubt we need his protection any more, which means he has to have another role to play. What do you think, Dari?”
The telepath rubs her temples while scanning the city for a sign of the fireskin, part of her praying he is not nearby. Dariana finds evidence that Isaiah has been spying on them until recently, but the caster is long gone. She considers tracking the faint trail and goes as far as the outer wall, which is where the psychic tracks make an odd leap into the sky. The strain of following Isaiah any further makes Dariana pull back and return to find that everyone is staring at her again. Realizing that she can no longer delay the inevitable, she gets out of her chair and kneels to her friends. Fizzle is still clinging to her head, which makes the apologetic bow both amusing and awkward.
“I know I say this a lot, but I really am sorry, my friends,” Dariana states while keeping her forehead pressed to the stone floor. She looks up at the sound of rustling feet and is surprised to see that everyone is approaching her. “Long ago, I managed to avoid being put back to sleep long enough to track down the Spirit Well. My curiosity got the best of me and I wanted to know where my path would meet its end. I was still forced to wipe my memory of the location, but I do know that I left a map behind. There are a few clues that I buried in my subconscious where even I could not dislodge them after erasing the original discovery. More may come to me as we get closer, but all I know now is that we should go to Rodillen. I was hoping the Compass Key would work and we could avoid this extra journey.”
“Like our luck would be that good,” Nyx mutters while she helps Dariana stand. A few pats on the shoulder removes the dirt and grime from the telepath’s clothes, the smell making her wonder if the other woman has bothered to bathe at all since leaving the plateau. “Nothing good ever happens to me in Rodillen.”
“I think you mean Hero’s Gate,” Luke says with a smirk. The forest tracker draws his saber in the blink of an eye and slices Nyx’s air blast in half, the parts knocking a chair across the room. “Guess that joke was uncalled for. Still, the City of Thieves is a terrible place to put a map.”
“Or the smartest place,” Timoran interjects while wiping crumbs off his black fur vest. The barbarian chuckles as he thinks about the benefits of such a plan. “A thief is less likely to give away such an item unless they are paid more than they are getting to keep it safe. I assume Dariana used her powers to prevent her chosen guardian from committing a betrayal. For example, she could have made them believe that they would be cursed if the map was lost or given away. That would confirm a sense of fear-based loyalty. Such a trick could be done everywhere, but Rodillen thieves are notorious for being hoarders, especially when it comes to maps and tre
asures. Also, not many would attempt to steal from the guild.”
“We go to thief place?” Fizzle asks as he flutters into the air. He moves awkwardly until he licks some apple off his crimson dragonfly wings. “Fizzle not like thief place. Very dangerous and bad luck. Who have map?”
“I believe the mayor, which means we’d need to get into the city archives,” Dariana answers as she gets some water. Noticing the thick silence, she faces her friends and does a quick scan of their minds to figure out the confusion. “You’re correct to worry. At the time, I didn’t realize the politicians of Rodillen were corrupted. It probably would have been smarter to give the map to the guild, but there’s nothing I can do about my mistake. This was only a couple hundred years ago, so the position shouldn’t have changed hands too much.”
With a nervous laugh, Sari raises both hands into the air to open and close them several times. “My clan always kept an eye on Rodillen since we had a touchy history with the guild. I believe the city has had thirty mayors in the last century alone. There’s a high rate of death and imprisonment with that position. On the plus side, I doubt anyone remembers the map or has a clue about its existence. That’s good because it means there’s less of a chance that someone would have sold it. I don’t actually have any proof, but I like that scenario better than the map being gone or destroyed.”
With a loud creak, the doors open and a nervous apprentice hurries inside with a glowing envelope in her hand. The young lady is about to give it to Nyx when a numbing pulse runs up her arm and causes her to move out of reach. Reading the message again, the apprentice scratches her head before figuring out that it is meant for Delvin. Her hand quivers when she hands it the blue-eyed warrior, a look of relief on her face when the envelope willingly leaves her ink-stained fingers. Nodding to the famous guests, the yawning apprentice backs out of the room and rushes back to sleep through the rest of her lessons.
The Spirit Well Page 3
