The Spirit Well

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “My father has great respect for blood,” Dariana replies while shifting pieces of fallen rock with her fingers. The enchantment on the grating hums and becomes stronger, warning the champion that she may have misspoken. “It is to his detriment, but that is in the past. My brother is dead and I had a hand in his destruction. Not the killing blow, but I drove him mad and removed what little restraint he had. Then one of my friends lopped off his head after another neutered him. Magically speaking, of course.”

  “Ah, I see the famous Kernaghan smirk threatening to emerge,” Tydis says, clapping his hands to remove the grating. He rises to the ceiling and walks to where he can gently spin the rusty chandelier with his weapon. “Come on in, Dariana. It isn’t like you can kill me again. Not that I blame you since I was trying to knock your head off your shoulders. After thinking about it all these years, I feel it was the best outcome. Working as an assassin for the Kernaghans was just asking for a violent death at the hands of an ally. It would have been Stephen if you hadn’t done me in first.”

  “I tried to be merciful.”

  “Turning off my mind was definitely that.”

  “So you aren’t mad?”

  The ghost ripples with laughter as he sinks to the table and throws his arms wide. Spectral faces peer out of the tombs, each one glaring at the jovial killer with enough focus to heat the room. Mournful groans meet Dariana when she steps into the chamber and several limbs stretch to caress her face. There is a wave of gratitude that brings tears to her eyes and causes Tydis to lose his good humor. Annoyed at the intrusion, he swings his maul in a wide circle to scare the other spirits back into their resting places.

  “Not a fan of being dead, but I don’t hold a grudge,” the spectral killer claims, rolling his eyes at a few errant moans. He pulls a jar out of his body and goes about smearing a shining jam across the face of each tomb. “Greedy spirits are taking advantage of my good mood. Serves me right for building a crypt to bury my targets and then having myself interred among them. Guess that’s something we have in common, Little Goddess. The two of us are far too obsessed with punishing ourselves for our own decisions. I hope you’re here because you wish to break your cycle.”

  “My new friends and I have made it to my temple,” Dariana states, bowing at the sudden applause she gets from their hiding audience. The noise stops when Tydis yanks one of the ghosts out of the wall and smacks the man upside the head. “So I need the map I told you about during the time you trained me. The others are retrieving it, but the Spirit Well’s location can only be revealed with the blood of a ghost. I’m sorry, but it is time for you to repay me for not telling my family that you planned to betray them.”

  Tydis pushes the other spirit back into the wall and leans against his tomb, the pull of his body making his ephemeral skin crawl. “Let’s be honest, Little Goddess. The debts between us are rather muddled. You never told your dad about my plans, but I trained you how to fight. I helped you avoid Gabriel’s agents for a bit and that ended with you killing me. My promises aside, it sounds to me like we’re even.”

  “Your ambition was revealed to my father. I killed you out of mercy,” the telepath argues as she avoids eye contact. A rumble causes the cemetery to shake and she notices that her companion has turned dark red. “It appears that I’ve angered you. Again, I’m willing to find someone else if you feel that I’ve taken too much from you.”

  “We’ll see how our conversation goes,” the ghost replies, gesturing for the champion to follow him out of the room. The grating scratches against the floor and is about to block the entrance, but he casually tosses it against the far wall. “Do you know if I still have a bloodline out there? One of my fears is that your family killed my wife and children, but I’ve no way to find out from here. Part of my punishment for siding with the gods’ enemy is that I can never reunite with my loved ones.”

  “I have not had the opportunity to meet them, but I scanned the world every time I woke up for thoughts of your family,” Dariana explains with a modest grin. Before her companion can climb the stairs, she grips him by the wrist and holds his gaze. “I am not sure how many generations have passed, but you have a female descendant who has three children. The oldest is a boy and then there are two girls. It would appear that she is the last of your lineage to live an interesting life unless her kids try to follow in their parents’ footsteps. She became a decorated soldier and then a successful bounty hunter. She married a man who went on adventures for money. They retired and live in a cabin with a nice plot of land. Neither of them are any good at farming.”

  Tydis chuckles as he slides his arm out of the champion’s hands and heads up the stairs. A few spectral tears fall to the stone, the drops congealing into a gem that he kicks into the shadows. With her senses attuned to the jewels, Dariana realizes that more of them are embedded in the walls. The former assassin and teacher keeps his face hidden by making its features switch between the haze of a ghost and an exposed skeleton. By the time the pair step into the upper hall of the crypt, Tydis has regained his composure and turns with a warm smile that reminds the woman of their first meeting.

  “Thank you for gathering that information,” the man states, bowing his head. A helmet appears in the crook of his arm, the piece of armor adorned with a short ridge of golden hair. “I will give you the blood that you need to move on. Come to my home and we shall complete our business. Maybe we can find some time to sit and reminisce about old times. Did you know that ghosts have a wine that they can make from spectral berries?”

  “Lorvis and Eporwil created those plants after a group of Dwarven spirits refused to travel to the afterlife,” Dariana replies as they step outside of the crypt. Thousands of stars sparkle in the sky, none of them recognizable to the telepath. “I do not drink, but I will make an exception this time. Mostly because the wine only works on true spirits and my astral form is merely a projection. I thought the crypt is your home.”

  “Nah, this is where I go when I feel guilty. My real home is miles away and through hundreds of traps to keep my skills sharp,” Tydis announces in a boisterous voice that stirs every spirit in the cemetery. Seeing the wide-eyed look of anxiety on his former student’s face, he flashes a sideways smirk. “Just kidding. It’s the shack on top of the hill. All these centuries and you’ve yet to get a sense of humor.”

  “I’ve been asleep for most of my life.”

  “That’s no excuse, Little Goddess.”

  Unsure of what to do, Dariana gives a friendly punch to Tydis’s arm and nearly falls on her face when her fist passes through him. She flails wildly before taking a step to regain her balance and finding that her foot passing through the ground. With a restrained yelp, the telepath flops into the dirt and scrambles to get back to the surface. Her companion sighs while helping the woman up, a flicker of regret on his face that she fails to notice.

  *****

  “And there you were with the zombie’s head chewing on your forearm while the body continued rolling down the hill,” Tydis says before raising his glass. He takes a long swig of the sweet wine and goes in search of another bottle. “You seem to have more color in your cheeks, so to speak. Told you that this stuff would replenish your energy. Though your body might appear a little drowsy.”

  “Pazel won’t really notice and I’ll lie if I have to,” Dariana replies while swirling the amber liquid in her goblet. An empty vial sits in the middle of the table, its stopper balanced on her finger. “There were days when I felt like this day would never come to pass. Not asking for your blood, but reaching my temple.”

  “Well you’ve had centuries of waking up, adventuring for a month or two, and then going back to bed,” the ghost admits, giving up his search for more alcohol. He relaxes in his chair, which creaks as it rocks back and forth on the rotting floorboards. “Only natural that you’re excited and nervous. Freedom has been ripped from your hands so often that I’m surprised you haven’t gone insane. Then again, maybe you have and I’m bli
nd to it. Always had a soft spot for you, Little Goddess.”

  Dariana finishes her drink and wanders around the shack, its one room having very little inside. She runs her fingers along the dusty shelving unit and lingers on the hilt of a dagger, its blade long having rusted away. Licking her lips, she moves to a window and stares out over the ancient cemetery. The other spirits can be seem roaming among the gravestones with nothing to keep them occupied during their eternal suffering. She finds herself pitying the ghosts and considers praying that Lorvis gives them some level of peace. A wry smile is on her face when she imagines that such an act of benevolence might have been in her power if she had made better choices in her youth.

  “The weight of the world is on your shoulders,” Tydis states, interrupting his former student’s thoughts. Joining her at the window, he passes through the wall to stand outside and bathe in the blue moonlight. “Tell me what is on your mind. I don’t want to continue with our deal if you are keeping secrets. Makes me uncomfortable.”

  “I wish for the spirits of this place to be free, but it is not my wish to make. It is also not the secret that plagues me,” Dariana replies while climbing through the window. A chill runs through her core and she whirls around in search of the cause, her ivory eyes following on the armored specter before her. “You have a secret too that I would like for you to share. Yet, it is only fair that I go first. This stays between you and me, old teacher, even though I know you would never tell my friends. I became impatient and may have moved things along during my last slumber. Only one champion was on the correct path and I needed a catalyst who could draw the others into the prophecy.”

  When the telepath stops talking, the ghostly assassin clears his throat. “Even the gods can’t reverse whatever you did. Especially if it has brought their pawns to the brink of victory. In fact, I would say Gabriel owes you thanks.”

  “When Isaiah reinforced my slumber, I read his mind and discovered that he was watching a potential champion that could be a sign that the end is coming,” she explains, nervously rubbing her temples. Several stars blink away and she gets the feeling that she is being watched by her distant family. “At the time, there was no definitive proof it was Luke Callindor, but I knew it was true. One of his family crossing paths with Tyler should have been enough to garner the right attention. Isaiah remained unaware and the man he had tricked into being his agent thought nothing of Luke’s appearance at the academy. That is until I used a student to give a hint that the prophecy was in action. Six symbols into the dream of a child who could never know what they were about.”

  “And that seems to have started it all?” Tydis asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. He scratches his beard and flicks away a few fleas that he is sure came from one of the less hygienic spirits. “Then again, it could have happened anyway. Why are you so nervous to tell them the truth?”

  “I fear that they will hate me for the manipulation.”

  “Or thank you for always watching over them.”

  “Nyx would be angry for putting her little brother in danger.”

  “Or be happy that you set him on the path to be by her side.”

  “Sari-”

  Tydis holds up his hand to stop the stubborn woman, his face suddenly appearing very old and tired. “I wish for you to kill me in combat. Defeat my spirit and send me to oblivion. I promise that the blood you spill from me will be enough for your map.”

  Dariana stares at the stone-faced spirit, her confusion so strong that his movements barely register in her mind. So when the phantasmal maul is swinging for her head, the telepath only has enough time to deflect the weapon with her fist. Pain runs along her arm and she leaps away from another attack, but ignores the opening to the man’s side. Tydis attempts an overhead smash, which is stopped when Dariana catches the handle and pushes against him. The pair wrestle over the weapon in an awkward stalemate until they reach the edge of the hill. With a twinkle in his eyes, the armored warrior trips his former student and spins to send both of them rolling toward the cluster of crypts. The fighters are separated when they strike a boulder, the impact sending them into separate buildings. Tydis is the first to emerge and frowns when he sees that his opponent is determined to stay in hiding.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Dariana whispers before shoving another spirit into the open. Her opponent sends the scrawny spearman flying, the distraction enough to let her sneak into another crypt. “This doesn’t have to end with your destruction. All I need is some of your blood. Please don’t make me take anything more than that from you.”

  “I will give you my blood, but I want peace in return,” Tydis declares before swinging at one of the crypts. The maul strikes the wall and sends all of the residing spirits soaring through the opposite wall, none of them his target. “I denied my passage to the afterlife because one day you would need me. There is nothing beyond this cemetery for me, except oblivion. So I request that you fight and destroy me. It is said that a spirit feels nothing when it is erased, which means you won’t have to worry about me suffering.”

  “It’s no different than murder,” Dariana argues before stepping into the open. She ducks the incoming maul and rolls behind the warrior to push him off balance. “I’m indebted to you for being patient when we’ve barely seen each other. That does not mean I will commit a mercy killing. Let me talk to Lorvis and convince him to let you be free of the cemetery.”

  “And roam the world without a purpose?”

  “It is better than destruction.”

  “You would condemn me to a life of loneliness and eventual madness.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you want.”

  “Then this is where you die.”

  With a bull-like snort, Tydis charges and leaves dents in the ground as he chases after the elusive champion. His breathing becomes ragged even though he no longer has solid lungs to hold the hard gulps of air. The years of containment have taken their toll on the warrior and he knows he will collapse before Dariana. She could easily draw his blood and leave before he recovers, so Tydis ducks into the nearest building. A burst of light erupts from the windows and he returns with several weaker spirits embedded in his armor. Drawing from their combined strength, the spectral warrior moves faster and has the power to push Dariana back whenever she attempts to block instead of dodge his attacks.

  The pair move back up the hill with Tydis growing stronger and his opponent’s spirit getting fainter. He swings his maul to knock Dariana’s legs out from under her, but the champion hops over the weapon. She lunges forward to punch the ghost in the face, her knuckles coming away with a smear of spectral blood across them. Growling with anger, Tydis slams his shoulder into her chest and tries to follow up with a blow to her knee. A change in Dariana’s posture causes him to stop his attack, the woman showing no sign of wanting to move. Twisting his back, the assassin spins around and comes down with a blow that would have smashed her head into her chest if they were made of flesh and blood. Instead, the weapon passes harmlessly through the champion and reveals that Tydis has no desire to kill.

  “If you kill me then you remain trapped and the prophecy crumbles,” Dariana says, giving her old teacher a gentle hug. She runs her hand along his spine, which frees the weaker spirits from his body. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you want. As much as I understand your desire to be free, I refuse to be your executioner a second time. Perhaps this means we are not really friends and I apologize for upsetting you.”

  “You’re too nice to be a Kernaghan,” Tydis mutters, dropping his maul into the earth. He stares at his hands, which have become gaunt and wrinkled. “I should be the one to apologize for forcing the issue. The years have not been kind to my heart and mind. Let me get that vial and fill it for you. Best not to keep your friends waiting.”

  Dariana catches the ghost by his wrist and stares into his eyes, her own becoming light blue orbs of fire. “Thank you for helping me and stopping your attacks. If my plan con
tinues on its proper course then I promise you will be taken care of. This cemetery will not be your home forever, Tydis.”

  “What are you planning, Little Goddess?”

  “To follow the only path I have ever known.”

  5

  The square-nosed ogre scowls at the beautiful elf as she carefully removes the grating from the top of a ventilation shaft. Every time the metal cover grinds against the opening, the pair freeze and wait a minute before moving again. The muscular behemoth reaches up to touch his two horns, but his blonde companion jumps to smack his hand away. Within the shadow of the metal dome that is the Wonder Museum, the thieves shiver and wish they were still in the catacombs. The ogre does so more out of embarrassment since he is covered in grease and only a ragged loincloth protects his groin. His partner is clothed from neck to toes by a tight bodysuit, but it is clear that the garment is more for mobility and sex appeal than warmth. Tapping at the tiny spikes on his elbows, the ogre winces at the sensation of his skin getting tugged. For what she knows is the twentieth time since leaving the catacombs, the elf rudely smacks his hand and pokes him in his bare chest. The woman’s finger comes away with a slimy pimple stuck to the nail and a layer of grease that she wipes off on the creature’s hairy forearm.

  “Stop messing with your disguise, Timoran,” Sari hisses, her emerald eyes locked on a distant gnome. The robed figure has his back to the intruders, but the tension is causing her imagination to run wild with ways they can get caught. “Just follow me and grunt if we’re caught. Roar if we have to make a scene. Now it’s going to be hot in there, but I made sure the paint and glue of your disguise are heat resistant. Only Nyx, an Ifrit, or a Verenstone Dragon can get that stuff off you. So please be quiet and listen to whatever I say.”