3
With a sigh, Sari tosses another diamond sphere to Fizzle, who places it in the growing pile on the bar. The innkeeper and wait staff are too busy hiding to notice the money that is being gathered for the repairs, none of the locals wishing to get between the fighters. Most of the guests have returned to their rooms in order to avoid being drawn into the brawl, but a handful remain at a corner table. The sound of cheering and cursing about losing a bet is repeatedly drowned out by the breaking of a table or the grunt of a thief hitting the floor. Unsurprisingly, none of the men and women have placed money on the local thugs that were foolish enough to knock over Timoran’s ale and threaten Nyx for demanding any apology. Nobody is sure what happened to draw Delvin and Luke into the fray instead of guarding the meal like they were doing at the beginning. All the gamblers know is that they are getting a free show and at least one of them is going to bed richer.
With a roar, Timoran grabs two Elven thieves who are darting around him and spins to hurl them through the open window. He sees the shadow of someone sneaking up on him, but the knife-wielding woman is knocked away by a chair to her side. With her fists balled up and raised to protect her face, Nyx follows the stumbling blonde and delivers several punches to drop her at the end of the bar. The half-elf leaves the groaning thief alone, knowing that Sari will arrive any second to empty the woman’s pockets. A solid strike to the channeler’s face nearly breaks her jaw and her vision is hazy as the orc lifts his arms for a brutal club to the top of her head. The attack is stopped when Delvin kicks the enemy in the back of the knee and slams the man’s face against the bar.
“So much for relaxing,” the brown-haired warrior says, reaching down to help Nyx to her feet. Instead, the half-elf dives by him to grab a halfling by the legs and whip the screaming thief across the room. “You’re bleeding from the mouth and still enjoying this? I know I should be used to this, Nyx, but sometimes you’re a little too anxious to fight.”
“Some apprentices relaxed with music. When I was old enough, I went to the local bars and got into fights,” the channeler admits with grin. Turning around, she pouts when she watches her friends toss the last of the thieves out the door. “In my defense, my anger issues are nowhere near as bad as they were when I first met Luke. Can’t even remember the last time I lost my temper without a good reason. That mess in Rhundar and my last fight with Trinity were entirely justified, so don’t even try to bring them up. Guess I’ve matured a lot since I was a simple city girl. Though I’m still looking forward to the day I don’t have to go weeks without either a soft bed or a bath that doesn’t include fish bumping into my legs.”
“Face it, Nyxie. You’ll always be a city brat,” Sari interjects, the gypsy slipping between her friends. She gently turns the channeler’s face toward the pile of money on the bar, which is being guarded by Fizzle. “That will pay for all of the damages and lost wages. Now, I’d love to keep some of those pretty, sparkly goodies. What do you think about doing a little magic for our hosts? I’ll love you forever, big sister.”
“Don’t think I know the spells for that,” Nyx nervously admits while rubbing her amethyst necklace. The half-elf tries to put a splintered chair back together, but she loses her concentration and the remains are launched into the wall. “I’m going to hate myself for admitting this, but I’m more of a destroyer than a fixer. Guess you’ll have to settle for all of the money and daggers you’ve hidden in your skirts.”
Sari pouts and returns to their table, which has been shoved into a corner. She is not surprised to find their meals and silverware have been stolen, a single spoon remaining due to it falling under the table. Only three of the chairs are usable, the other two now part of the scattered wreckage. Knowing Timoran needs one of them, Nyx does her best to get comfortable on Delvin’s lap while Luke and Sari sit back to back on another. The champions avoid eye contact with the innkeeper, the man accepting the restitution, but not doing anything to replace the lost meals. Instead, he signals that the bar and kitchen are closing, which causes the remaining guests to head for the door. The wait staff follow their boss to the rear exit, each one accepting a diamond sphere to cover their losses.
It takes several seconds for the champions to notice that everyone else has become frozen in place, some of them stuck in mid-step. There is a subtle shimmer to their surroundings, which causes the cautious adventurers to draw their weapons. Instead of an array of blades, they find oddly shaped pinecones at the ends of the cracking hilts. Nyx is about to cast a spell when a ghostly figure appears on the table for a brief moment to wave its arms. The apparition returns at the far end of the table, but remains hovering with its legs folded beneath its body. A cleansing breath helps Dariana bring herself into focus and she smiles at her friends, all of them with worry etched on their faces.
“So Pazel trapped me in a paralysis chair and stole my powers to use against the guild,” the telepath explains in a casual manner. Her astral form becomes distorted when she is forced to lock her friends in their chairs. “I’m sorry, but I should have said that he thinks he trapped me and stole all of my power. There is no need to mount a rescue. I can escape any time I want and Pazel has maybe two percent of my telepathy. As you can see, this hasn’t stopped me from projecting my psyche to give you some information about the map. Did he have somebody attack you here?”
“Nyx got bored and a thief got stupid at the same time,” Sari answers before sticking her tongue out at the channeler. The gypsy rolls her eyes as she kicks her legs up and feels a wind bolt pass beneath her chair. “We learned that nothing is in the archives. They’ve either been stolen or purposely moved, which doesn’t surprise me. I’ve got to give Pazel credit on having a somewhat creative plan instead of a standard kidnap and threaten.”
“Fizzle watch Dariana,” the drite interrupts as he searches the messy table for scraps of apple. With a shriek of glee, he devours a solitary slice that is sitting in a small puddle of sweet ale. “Sneak in and not be seen. Attack mayor when see opening. All us get map and leave. No reason for Dariana to be trapped.”
“This is fine considering I have to collect a special item,” the telepath says, scratching her head. She takes a more solid form and practices touching physical objects with her shining fingers, most of her attempts resulting in failure. “One could call it a compass that goes with the map, which only I can reach. So I will be using my imprisonment to my advantage. This means my mind can travel and I will not have to worry about my body. After all, Pazel needs me alive to retain my power and he won’t be destroying the guild any time soon.”
Luke stands and rubs his arm, which is sore from getting twisted behind his back during the fight. “We found a hidden passage in the archives, so we think the guild took everything. I don’t believe they know about the map even if they have it. Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has a bad feeling about this. I think Fizzle should keep an eye on you, Dariana. Just as a precaution because Pazel has already betrayed us once.”
“Twice since he knows the guild has the map and plans on having a surprise for you in the morning.”
“Even more of a reason to give you a shadow.”
“Nobody won’t listen if I insist that Fizzle goes after the guild with you.”
“Seems you’re finally understanding what it means to have close friends.”
Dariana’s smile remains after her body fades away and the inn returns to being an active landscape. The few people who are still leaving are unaware of what has happened even though Luke is now standing and Fizzle is no longer on the bar. Timoran is the first to move when he goes behind the counter, his hand loudly slapping a few gold coins onto the kitchen window. He claims a small bottle of rum that is nearly empty and returns to his seat where he nurses his drink. Feeling anxious and worried, Delvin moves Nyx into their chair and paces from one end of the room to the other. Lost in thought, his hand massages his chin and he nearly trips over several pieces of furniture. With nobody else in the tavern, th
e awkward silence lingers for several minutes and is broken occasionally by a yawn or cough.
“None of this is your fault, my friend,” Timoran states, catching Delvin by the sleeve as the man starts another lap. Releasing his grip, the barbarian smiles and offers the last of the rum to the other warrior. “We followed Dariana’s lead and she is still in control. More so now that our true enemy has been revealed. I do worry that she did not tell us about this new item that she has to find. Yet, as Luke and I have said before, we trust her. She has been a champion longer than any of us, which means she has had centuries to prepare for this day.”
“There’s a difference between trust and worrying about a friend in danger,” Nyx argues before claiming the bottle and finishing the rum. With a clench of her fist, the dark glass bursts into powder and crackles like a firework. “Dariana can be naïve and I really hope that isn’t the case here. She is probably right that Pazel can’t stop her from leaving. Still, the idea of him walking around with even a spark of her psychic power is unnerving. Has anyone here ever thought about what would happen if we had to fight Dariana? I have and I can’t see any way to win that battle.”
“Work off instinct and hit her in the face with a dagger,” Sari casually replies, a small blade balanced on her extended finger. A sad twinkle is in her emerald eyes as she imagines having to kill one of her friends. “Doubt I’d be able to do it. Not unless she killed one of you first. Scary part is that Dari could probably turn off all our minds at once. She’s the daughter of a goddess and a man that the gods fear. There are times that I see her in action and wonder why the rest of us are even needed.”
“Gabriel wouldn’t leave this battle to the daughter of his enemy,” Luke points out, his voice soft and distant. Rubbing his palms against his saber hilts, the forest tracker takes a few steps toward the stairs. “Another reason that scenario makes no sense is because she would have been allowed to stay awake instead of being put to sleep after every failure. I mean, why create a central figure for a prophecy and torment them for centuries? Not to mention letting their supposed friends turn on them so easily. Dariana may have been involved for longer than us, but that sounds more like a curse than a blessing to me.”
“All the more reason for us to worry that she will break before this is done,” Nyx mutters, shocked by her own bluntness. Wiping a few tears from her eyes, the channeler fights back the self-loathing that is twisting her gut. “Dariana is my friend and I’ve trusted her since the very beginning. So I don’t like thinking about this, but I’ve repeatedly wondered if her connection to the Baron can be used against us. Not on purpose, but him controlling her through shared blood or aura. That could eliminate a few, if not all, of us and leave her wracked with guilt. What do you think about all this, Delvin?”
The warrior tucks his hands into his pockets and goes to the stairs, stopping only to silently gesture for Nyx to follow. She remains in her seat, which causes Delvin to shrug and continue on his way. It appears as if he is tired and drowning in his thoughts, but the slamming of the distant door hints that the conversation has made him angry.
“You three need to learn when to stop talking,” Timoran mutters with a yawn.
*****
Crouched in the shadows of the stairwell, Luke closes his eyes and focuses on sensing his enemies. With his sound sight and the snake fiend’s vibration sense, the warrior is able to track movements in the archives. None of the guards below are able to see the half-elf, who remains far away from the doorway. An urgent discomfort in his stomach causes Luke to break his concentration and finger flick at his shirt until his skin stops itching. Returning to his spying, he picks out the pattern of the patrolling swordsmen, the weapons coming into view whenever they are nervously slid in and out of their scabbards. The occasional bang reveals the presence of spearmen, which leaves only a handful of guards a mystery. Luke prays there are no archers in the archives, but he is suspicious of two figures that he can only sense when they shift a foot or roll a shoulder. To his frustration, the pair never leave their posts and their faint movements only give the champion a glimmer of their form. Exhaling slowly and quietly, the forest tracker reaches up to tap Fizzle on the tail and send the invisible drite to the entrance.
As Luke had feared, the guards react to the sound of his friend’s movements before the dragon hides above the doorway. With only one way into the archives, there is no way for Luke to avoid a fight and he can only imagine what traps Pazel has created with Dariana’s stolen powers. Judging by the quick response to Fizzle’s subtle noises, he guesses that their senses have been enhanced to the point where they can track him and see through illusions without much effort. The trapdoor requires a few precious seconds to open, which is more than enough time for the guards to swarm. Luke notices that one of the warriors is standing near the hidden passage and repeatedly patting the end of a club. The weapon is too big for the slender form that is carrying it, which worries the half-elf even more. Advancing a few more steps, he signals for Fizzle to join him and pats the drite on the head.
“Stay in the air and handle any archers,” Luke whispers, pausing when he hears the guards stop their movements. He waits several minutes for them to return to their patrols and sneaks back to the top of the stairs. “Pazel enhanced them. Keen senses, more strength, and the gods know what else. Probably has them immune to magic and illusions, which is why it’s a good thing that Sari and Nyx aren’t doing this. Wish we could use the others, but Delvin is right that our stealth and speed are the only things that can work.”
“You only one who know trigger too,” Fizzle reminds his friend. He licks the half-elf’s face, delivering a welcomed agility enhancing spell. “Now you faster. Dance like wind. Last until go under.”
Luke pats the drite on the head and goes back down the stairs while a darkening aggression looms in his mind. Pushing the dangerous Sword Dragon spirit away, he reminds the beast that they are not supposed to kill anybody. He can feel the predator scoff at the idea and begin arguing with the griffin, which has become a weekly incident. Even though he cannot access the arrogant construct, Luke is not protected from dealing with its suggestions. The half-elf takes some pride and solace in the fact that it has no influence over his actions. The threat of giving the Sword Dragon a terrible name seems to be one of the reasons the creature is behaving. The other being a mild curiosity about having friends and working with others that none of the other spirits have admitted to noticing.
Before he comes into view, Luke silently draws his sabers and spins them once to remove the last of his anxiety. With no other plan in his head, the forest tracker sprints the rest of the way down the stairs and barges into the archives. Even with their enhanced senses, the guards are surprised by the sudden intrusion and pause for a second to see if they are facing an illusion or a real threat. The delay gives Fizzle enough time to bathe the twin archers in rainbow mist, but the pair remain standing and take aim at the champion. The arrows thud into two bookcases after Luke deflects them and continues his charge.
Blocking slashes and dodging tackles, the half-elf is almost too fast and agile for his own good. Fizzle’s spell has made it that what would be a simple flip over a table turns into an amazing leap that lands him on top of a bookcase. Exposed to the archers, Luke vaults across the open middle of the archives and rolls out of sight as soon as he hits the ground. He slams the blunt sides of his sabers onto the shoulders of an unsuspecting swordsman, who shows no sign of being injured. A full strength hilt punch to the face only knocks out a few teeth, which the guard spits out as if they are hardened pieces of gum. Diving through the taller man’s legs, Luke slashes him across the calves and flips away from the counterattack. Showing that nothing can slow him down, the swordsman charges and calls for the other guards to block off the ends of the aisle.
“I should have seen the pain blocking coming,” Luke says before clambering up the bookcases. He ducks as soon as he hears a longbow twang, the arrow slamming through the wood and
scratching his cheek. “Not like anybody cares about this place anyway. Fizzle! Do something about the archers please.”
Kicking away several grasping hands, Luke flips over the bookcase and grips the far edge to swing himself around. He lets go at the last moment and slams his feet against the shelves, the impact sending him hard against the next section. Both bookcases topple over and cause a chain reaction that traps most of the guards beneath the wreckage. Swords wave helplessly through the shelves as they struggle to gain leverage and continue the fight. Luke has no time to enjoy the humorous sight, the half-elf knowing he is exposed to the archers. Rolling off the fallen shelves, he runs for the far side of the room and randomly changes direction to avoid the incoming arrows that are always an inch away. The projectiles stop when Fizzle dives in at full speed to knock one of the guards into a wall, the blow putting the durable woman through the solid bricks. Before the other archer can turn to shoot, he wraps his tail around her neck and hurls the glassy-eyed guard across the archives. The lightly armored warrior lands in the stairwell where she remains in a crumpled daze, the enhancements disappearing once she crossed the threshold.
Seeing that the guards are freeing themselves and the ones who are not trapped are advancing, Luke races toward the trapdoor. At the last moment, he remembers the club-wielding figure that he saw from the stairwell and turns on his extra senses. Even though he is staring in the other warrior’s direction, he sees nothing besides the only standing bookcase and an empty aisle. Realizing what is going on, the half-elf leaps over the invisible guard and twists to watch a dent appear in the wall. He gets his sabers up to block the unseen club and is slammed against the bookcase, which quivers with the threat of falling over like the others. Staying low and darting forward, Luke swings for the woman’s knees in an attempt to break them. Instead, she hops over his strikes and comes down with her weapon, the blow stopped by the half-elf crossing his swords over his back. The attack rattles his spine and pins him with his knees and forehead pressed to the dirty floor. With a roar that echoes throughout the building, Luke rears back and sends his enemy flying. He scrambles to his feet and whirls around to see her silhouette land gracefully, his battle cry only scaring the other guards.
The Spirit Well Page 7
