The Spirit Well

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “I get the sense that you are not happy to have me here, Sari,” the barbarian says in a muffled voice. He tries to practice grunting, but stops when he hears the distant gnome turn around and cough. “Would it be better if I stay outside and stand guard? Maybe I can cause a distraction to help you get in.”

  “First of all, call me Linny when I’m dressed like this,” the gypsy whispers while tying her fake blonde hair back. A burst of warm air erupts from the open vent, bringing with it the sound of metal grinding on stone. “I’m just angry at myself for failing that balance challenge. Never should have agreed to take an accomplice for this job, but I thought she’d pick Nyx or Delvin. A barbarian, or ogre in this case, is the worst partner to have for a burglary. No offense.”

  Timoran grins, revealing gnarled teeth that he struggles to keep in his mouth. “My people are not known for stealth, so no offense is taken. Though I still do not understand why we need these disguises.”

  “Because going in as Sari and Timoran Wrath the champions would be too easy,” his friend explains, remembering another rule that has been placed on her head. Not for the first time, she considers that most of the challenges were rigged against her. “It isn’t a burglary if they simply let us inside. Then it’s just a friendly visit and a tour where I snatch a random object off a random shelf. Dear Cessia, one of my hairs fell out. I think the poison is working faster than expected.”

  “That’s part of your wig.”

  “Oh . . . I probably should take a few breaths before we go inside.”

  “I should lead the way.”

  “Can you identity and disarm traps?”

  “No, but what if I fall on you?”

  “My plan is to say ow and whimper.”

  Satisfied with her answer, Sari takes several deep breaths that she finds difficult due to her tight clothing. Adjusting one of the hidden clasps, she eases the pressure on her chest and does a few stretches to make sure her movements are not restrained. The pull against her shoulders makes her frown, but she knows there is nothing to do about it without risking the bodysuit becoming too loose. Hopping onto the edge of the ventilation shaft, the gypsy silently wishes she had worn her enchanted boots, which are back in the guild’s lair along with most of her trusted gear. Another restriction caused her bad luck that she prays does not continue. Crouching over the shadowy gap, Sari can barely make out an occasional glint of moving metal and hears the faint rumble of gears whenever the rest of the world is quiet. She considers attempting to charm the gnomes in the main hall instead of challenging the shaft, but knows it would only take one defiant inventor to ruin the burglary.

  Sari drops and hangs from the smooth edge of the entrance before stretching her legs to see if they can touch the other side. It takes a few swings for her to tap the far wall with her toes, but it is not enough contact to use for a safe climb. Drawing a pair of needle-like daggers, the gypsy carefully sticks them into the narrow crevices between the bricks. Having to work by touch, she runs the blades along the wall whenever she needs to search for the next space, which makes her descent very slow. It is not until she gets twenty feet below the surface that she signals Timoran to follow, the large figure blocking the azure moonlight. Whispering a prepared spell, Sari causes the fake horns on her companion to glow and cast a faint light around the shaft. She can hear the barbarian count to ten and steady his breathing, the awakening of the enchantment catching him by surprise.

  The adventurers stop when something metallic glints in the distance, the movement repeating itself in an obvious pattern. Moving to one of the corners, Sari turns herself upside down while facing away from the wall. After adjusting her daggers and making sure they are secure, the gypsy lets go and falls until she locks her feet against the embedded weapons. She can feel the makeshift footholds giving way, so she slaps her hands against the wall and makes her entire body immovable. Sari watches the moving blades that are still twenty feet away and notices a small gap between them. It would require precise aim, but Sari knows she is thin enough to fall through the opening. Her only concerns are how to get back to the wall and what can she do to help Timoran get by the trap.

  “Wait here,” the gypsy whispers so only her friend’s keen ears can hear her. She draws another dagger and uses her sweat to lengthen the blade with ice. “I’m going to drop through this trap and find a way to disarm it. When the blades stop moving, you have to move quickly to either drop or climb through. I have a general idea of how they work and what I should do, but I need to get by them first.”

  Hearing a grunt of agreement, Sari pulls herself up to stand on the first pair of daggers and carefully judges the opening below. With a prayer and a hop into thin air, she straightens her legs, sucks in a breath, and holds her hands above her head. At the last second, the gypsy lifts her head and narrowly avoids slicing her chin on one of the spinning blades. The moment her fingers pass the trap, Sari curls her body in order to lunge and jam a dagger into the wall. Her heart nearly stops when the weapon skitters along the bricks, finally sinking into some old mortar a few feet lower than the thief would have liked. Looking ahead, she can see that another set of blades is moving in the shadows. The idea of being forced to plummet down the center and smash into the solid ground makes Sari shudder and morbidly compliment the gnomes on their simple, yet deadly, gauntlet.

  Reaching out with her naiad powers, she draws groundwater toward the shaft and has it seep through the walls. A thick layer of ice envelopes all of the blade traps, which brings their unseen mechanisms to a grinding halt. The keen edges take a minute to eliminate by creating blunted covers and pushing the traps back into their spaces. Unable to lock them completely without breaking most of the ice, the gypsy settles for leaving a big enough gap for Timoran. Satisfied with her work, Sari whistles to her companion and waits for him to climb down. She is about to silently compliment herself when the subtle sound of a foot slipping on ice tells her that there is a very large flaw in her plan.

  As Timoran’s falling body passes the first set of blades, Sari stretches to brace her fingers and toes against the wall. Doubting she can support his weight, she increases the ice on the upcoming traps in the hopes of making the metal brittle. There is no time to be sure that she has succeeded before the barbarian slams into her magically locked body. For a relaxing second, the pair remain safe between the traps, but the gypsy’s hold is soon undone by the stones crumbling beneath her touch. With nothing keeping them in the air, the champions plunge down the shaft and only Sari’s immovability prevents her from getting sliced apart by the frozen blades. She is vaguely aware of her bodysuit receiving several tears along the sleeves and her flesh becoming bruised from the impacts. Timoran does his best to kick and punch around his friend, his blows shattering most of the fragile traps.

  Halfway down, one of the collisions flips the pair and leaves the barbarian as the one who will hit the ground first. He tries to press his hands and feet against the icy stones, but only manages to slow their descent instead of bringing them to a stop. The barbarian cranes his neck to see that the light at the bottom of the shaft is growing brighter and they have only one more trap to pass before a painful landing. Timoran is surprised when Sari clambers around him and stretches again, her body kept diagonally across the opening. She catches the frozen blades that are sticking out of the corners, which is enough of a handhold to turn her into a living, and very bruised, platform. Able to take in their surroundings, the champions look down at the simple grating that is only fourteen feet below them.

  “Ow,” Sari whimpers while she uses the ice to help her lower them to the bottom. When she feels Timoran slide off her, the gypsy flips herself into a standing position above the entrance. “I think I left my spine up there. Possibly a few ribs and internal organs too. My head is killing me from hitting one of those blades. Think one of my pointy ears is bent too. I’ll hide it with my hair, but it means we really have to avoid contact.”

  “Was this the hard part?” asks the
barbarian as he crouches and examines the white-walled hallway. The sound of running machines makes it difficult to pinpoint any noises that would reveal the presence of guards.

  “Yes and we’ll be finding an easier way out,” the young woman replies while searching for the grating’s screws. She is surprised to find that the mesh is merely sitting on a metal frame and can be easily lifted out. “Here we go. Remember we have to get to the vault before Natalie or the test is a failure.”

  Timoran nods and drops to the hallway first in order to help Sari down, the barbarian feeling guilty about hurting her. Upon landing, he freezes and stares at the white-haired gnome leaning against the wall to his left. The gypsy still climbs through and balances on the tall man’s head, the temptation to flip to the floor undone by her aching muscles. Timoran taps her on the leg and points to the inventor, who is casually jingling a ring of keys. Neither champion knows what the strange rectangular device in the gnome’s other hand can do, but they are sure it will hurt and probably explode.

  “This might look bad, but I assure you that we’re supposed to be here,” Sari replies, pulling a fancy card out of her back pocket. With a charming smile, she hands the small object to the man and pats her friend on the arm. “My pet ogre and I were hired to test your security. As you can see, we work for Catarina Arnica Warrenberg of the Innovator League. That’s her merchant card and you know those can’t be faked. She has some new devices for shaft entrances and vaults, which is why we’re here.”

  “And did we pass?” inquires the gnome while examining the card. He flicks the corner and nods before pocketing the piece of paper. “Looks like you had to use magic and take a beating to get down here. I’d say we passed.”

  “I would agree, but it really isn’t my place to say,” the gypsy continues, wincing at the pain in her back. She rolls her eyes when Timoran grunts and bares his teeth in what she assumes is his imitation of a friendly ogre. “My friend finds your security very entertaining. Then again, he’s taken a lot of blows to the head in our line of work. Would you mind bringing us to your vault and letting us finish our test?”

  “Sure. Don’t want to anger the Innovator League. Follow me.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Surprised at their good luck, the champions follow the gnome down the hallway and around the first corner. Sari nearly squeals at the sight of the huge doorway that is covered in physical locks, magical illusions, and a few devices that she cannot figure out. Staring at the imposing entrance, she realizes that the only way inside would have been Timoran bashing through it using the Ring of Aintaranurh. Even that might not work since she is not sure he can accomplish such a feat without his great axe. The gnome circles his finger, signaling for the intruders to turn around while he unlocks everything in the correct order. Several minutes of humming, whirring, clicking, and the occasional acidic hiss pass before they are allowed to look at the vault. All they can see are rows upon rows of shelves that are covered in devices and parts, none of them familiar to the adventurers.

  “As you can see, nobody would be able to get inside,” the gnome explains, gesturing for the pair to walk ahead of him. “Air is pumped in through narrow vents, so only a fairy would be able to get through those. Though the protective gratings would stop even them. We also have some special security down here. Well, that’s all you need to know. Good-bye.”

  Timoran is too slow to stop the door from slamming shut, the gnome’s illusionary form disappearing with a smile. “I do not think he believed your story. Something tells me you are not the first one to get caught and claim to be checking security. Probably fairly common and stealing a card would be easy with all of the inventors in the museum. If it helps then I think your plan would have worked in any other city.”

  “Maybe Natalie is right and I’ve become a terrible thief,” Sari says while she stares out over the shelving units. Not wanting to leave empty-handed, she takes a nearby object that has a crimson feather emblazoned on it. “I know how to get us out of here though. We’re underground, but I can have part of the L’dandrin River make a tunnel to one of the walls. Then you bash through and I’ll help us breathe while we escape. We should find a metal panel that I can freeze to the opening because I don’t want to flood this place. No reason to make the gnomes mad since we’re the intruders.”

  “What about the security that was mentioned?”

  “Then keep your senses peeled for traps.”

  “I hear snorting . . . and footsteps.”

  “Maybe it’s-”

  Sari tackles Timoran by the knees, the surprise attack enough to make the barbarian stumble away. A large, double-sided axe slams into the door and the pair can hear a chorus of roars echo throughout the vault. Following the closest noise, they stare down the short flight of stairs to see a two-legged creature with large horns charging toward them. Burly and clothed in flexible, metal armor, the minotaur leaps onto the upper platform and yanks its weapon free. With another snort, the towering guardian licks its lips and watches its prey retreat through the shelves.

  *****

  Luke tries to slip out of his chair, but the two female thieves spin him back into the seat. A third woman goes back to massaging his shoulders while her companions continue their latest dance. The forest tracker sighs and accepts the offered drink, his attention on the attractive pair who are enjoying their display. One of them is sporting a black eye, which has acted as a constant warning that Delvin is off limits. Not that the warrior’s lap is free since Nyx has refused to budge since the injured thief successfully locked lips with him and ran a hand beneath his shirt. She has fared only slightly better than her friends due to her reputation, but a few ambitious guild members have tried their hand at convincing her to dance. None of them are brave enough to attempt a kiss, the occasional crackle of lightning around her mouth making them squirm at the thought. Out of all of the adventurers, only Fizzle is relaxing and having fun as he lounges on a table. A gathering of young thieves feed him apple slices while he puffs out rainbow rings for them to target with their slings and wooden daggers.

  “Shouldn’t you be leaving for the Wonder Museum?” Luke asks as he tries to stand. A forked tongue slithers out of his mouth when he is shoved back, but the pretty calico seductively bites her lower lip in response. “Sari and Timoran are probably already inside by now. I don’t see how you can win the contest at this point.”

  “I was never going there in the first place,” Natalie admits from her throne. Still admiring her newest ring, a gold-plated band with three diamonds, the guildmaster tosses Dariana’s map to Nyx. “Just wanted to get under Sari’s skin. Although, I do believe she’s going soft after being with you people for so long. I hear the stories and the most recent ones don’t make her sound like a thief. The instincts and skills are there, but the poor thing is getting rusty and complacent. So I see this challenge as me giving a fellow thief some much needed help. An occupational courtesy if you will.”

  “Then why all those other games that made things harder?” Nyx asks while she examines the map. She frowns at the blank outline of Ralian, but she can sense a layer of dormant magic pressing against her fingertips. “Dariana did mention there was something we needed to read this. Means we have to rescue her or let her know that it’s time to leave. Doubt Pazel is going to let us walk through the front door.”

  “We’ll get to that when the time is right,” the were-crow states, hopping to her feet. A few feathers fall out of her sleeves, which she kicks under her throne. “As I was telling you, Pazel is a conniving little bastard. He wants to control Rodillen and have the guild act as his personal army and spy network. At least I think that’s what he’s planning. I tend to get distracted when he makes speeches about the real power needing to be with politicians. Your friend’s telepathy gives him an edge, but the true danger is if you decided to join him too. That’s another reason I did this test for Sari. Her acceptance of the deal and you not causing any trouble, aside from the well-deserved suck
er punch on that young lady, means I can trust you. At least in regards to helping us overthrow Pazel since he has your friend hostage.”

  A sharp whistle calls all of the crows to Natalie, who rapidly speaks in their language. Her tone changes to frustration when the birds start to argue with her. Several of the animals leave for their nests while the others remain on the floor, none of them making a move to follow the guildmaster’s request. Annoyed that she has to do it herself, Natalie transforms and flies into the shadows in search of another scroll. Soaring back from the opposite direction, she lands on the table and snaps at Fizzle until the drite moves away. The thief returns to her human form and sits cross-legged as she unfurls a long map of City Hall. She waves for the champions to join her, but fails to tell her fellow guild members to stop what they are doing. It takes Luke a minute to get around the dancing thieves while Delvin easily stands up with Nyx in his arms. A few of the male thieves jealously glare at the sight, their eyes darting away when they see the channeler looking back at them.

  “Pazel lives on the top floor, but the adjoining buildings have loud traps. So we’d never be able to sneak inside that way,” Natalie explains, running her finger from the top of the schematic to the bottom. A thick line shows where the building goes underground and the champions can see various tunnels connecting to each floor. “We have trapdoors and secret passages, but they’re very narrow. City Hall was originally built as a haven against thieves and then transformed into a place we could hole up during an invasion. So we may have made the place too impregnable even if it doesn’t look it. There are traps that activate when the shutters close, animated suits of armor on these floors, a complete garrison over here, and a lot more.”

  “So maybe you need a warrior approach instead of a thief one,” Delvin suggests as he leans over the table and examines the detailed map. Rubbing his chin, the former mercenary taps his finger in various spots and glances at his friends. “An assault in the middle of the street is asking for trouble, so warrior tactics won’t work very well either. I’ll need some time with this to come up with a plan. How many secret passages are there?”