The Spirit Well

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “And yet you bring it up again,” Dariana replies, unable to hide her disdain. A glimmer of Pazel’s desire to strike her comes across her mind, but the vision ends with a fear that the telepath would turn on him. “Did you know that I can read your thoughts when your emotions run high? Just now you wanted to hit me, but worried that physical abuse will cause me to turn on you. Amazing how you don’t think the same in regards to what you’ve already done. Do you truly believe I’m not upset or uncomfortable with my powers being forcefully used by someone else? Not to mention the intimacy of your intrusion, which someone I used to know would be impressed with.”

  “Honestly, I never really thought of it,” Pazel awkwardly admits. The building shakes and screams erupt from below, the sounds drowned out by a horrifying roar. “What in Voran’s name is going on down there? That doesn’t sound like the thieves or your friends. Almost like a beast, but we’re in the middle of the city.”

  “Sir, we have an emergency!” his secretary shouts as she barges into the room. The demure calico is gasping for air even though her desk is just outside the door. “We don’t know how this happened or where it came from. The thing just charged through the front door. I could only watch with the security orb, but I know it’s a mess down there.”

  “What are you talking about, Ms. Kelson?”

  “There’s an ogre in the building, sir.”

  The mayor curses under his breath and is about to head downstairs when the sound of muffled laughter causes him to whirl around. Pazel glares at Dariana, who is failing to hide her amusement at the situation. Giving the woman a mental smack across her psyche, he leaves her to drool into her lap while he heads off to defeat his enemy.

  *****

  A gaping hole is where the front door once stood, the wreckage making it difficult for those remaining inside to escape. The crowd outside is continuing to grow even though there are warriors shouting for the citizens to return to their homes. It is impossible for the guards to say that nothing is happening since there is a clear view of Delvin, who is unconscious in the back wall of the building. The massive dent above the stairs prevents the champion from falling and keeps him in an eerie sitting position, leading many to believe he is dead. Partially buried beneath a filing cabinet and its contents, Nyx groans and several sparks jump off her body as she tries to stir. Injured guards and terrified clerks are scattered about, which is surprising since ogres are known for their viciousness. Many wonder if the beast has already eaten the dead and is toying with its other victims. The citizens scream and cheer when the creature lumbers into view, its enraged roars scaring a handful of people away.

  Wearing only the tattered remains of his shirt, Luke pounces on the ogre and holds on as it flails. He does his best to avoid yanking part of Timoran’s costume off, the fake hair on his arms already thinning. Wrapping his legs around his friend’s neck, the half-elf draws his sabers to make the fight more believable. He is unsure what to do next and his hesitation causes the entertained crowd to boo. As if seeing them for the first time, Luke turns his head in their direction and loosens his legs enough that only Timoran notices. The barbarian beats his chest before grabbing the blonde warrior by the legs and hurling him across the street. Nobody notices the apologetic look on the ogre’s face, their attention on the slender form that crashes into the second floor of a house. The startled owners scream and swiftly toss Luke, and the couch he landed on, into the street where he remains in the mud.

  Having cleared the debris from the stairwell, a squad of guards emerge from the lower levels. They draw their weapons and stare at the towering beast that is smashing furniture into the walls. Having never seen an ogre before, none of the terrified warriors realize that it is slightly smaller than most of its breed and there are wisps of red, thin hair poking out of its greasy scalp. Swords quivering in their hands, the guards rush down the hallway and are promptly scattered by a chunk of stone that is rolled at them. The beast backs toward the street, roaring at the renewed screams of the crowd and swinging a fist that breaks more of the crumbling wall.

  “I’ll stop him!” Pazel shouts as he bounds down the stairs. The mayor waves his men away and approaches the ogre, his eyes really locked on his citizens. “This is my city and I refuse to let some primitive monster destroy it. Know when you are defeated ogre and think about saving your life. This is your only chance to retreat.”

  The gnome stops within reach of the monster and stares into its blue eyes, the moist orbs showing a clear sign of intelligence. Pazel attempts to use his telepathy and force the ogre to run away, adding the desire to yelp like a terrified puppy to the mental commands. His confidence is shattered when a nearby clerk follows the orders instead and the huge creature reveals a set of gnarled teeth. Trying to control it again, the gnome can feel his power bouncing off a strange barrier that howls whenever his thoughts are deflected. He watches the burly arms rise to smash him into the expensive rug that he is standing on, but Pazel comes to his senses and dives away at the last second. The guards leap in to defend their leader, who hastily scrambles back to the stairs.

  “Did you know that ogres are immune to telepathy?” Natalie asks as she steps around the corner. The guildmaster sits next to the mayor and gestures for a blonde elf to stand in front of them, the other woman’s bodysuit showing several rips and cuts. “Yup, I know what that pretty crown can do. Looks like it’s stuck on there pretty nicely. Stealing it would mean scalping you, so I’m not interested in that trinket. Don’t think I had this planned though. Just happened to have this beast on hand when you sent the champions to kill me. All but the one that rumors say is a telepath. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what you’re up to.”

  “I never sent them after you,” Pazel states, the gnome still rattled from his encounter with the ogre. The building shakes as two of his soldiers are tackled through a wall, neither of them getting up after the blow. “You’ve jumped to a false assumption. Besides, if I had such power I would have used it on you and your friend. What you saw just now was me attempting to reason with the beast. You would be surprised how smart ogres are. Not like a troll, which is all instinct.”

  “Linny here can stop him, but only if you and I agree to make a deal,” the were-crow states, reaching over to take the elf’s hand. She pulls the slender woman onto Pazel’s lap, causing the mayor to cough and sputter. “Don’t get too excited. You’re not her type. In fact, there’s a more sinister reason I put the mute little thing there. You see, that ogre is her pet and gets really protective. He knows I don’t mean Linny any harm, but you might not be so lucky. Especially since you made him mad.”

  “Your predecessors were never this cruel.”

  “They also didn’t enjoy their job like I do.”

  “I could have my guards kill that thing.”

  “Because they seem to be doing such a fantastic job right now.”

  Natalie points to where the ogre is yawning and casually backhanding a halfling across the hallway. The beast has a few visible cuts on its arms and legs, but the injuries are superficial. For such a massive creature, it moves remarkably fast and its reflexes make Pazel wonder if the silent elf has trained her pet to fight like a man. The thought of an ogre knowing any structured form of combat causes a chill to run along the gnome’s spine. He sighs when the last of his guards tries to attack with her spear and the weapon is caught along with her hands. With a slightly softer roar, the beast swings the soldier like a mace and tosses her through the window next to Delvin’s groaning form.

  “I swear on the guild that we’ll make a new deal if you stop that thing,” Pazel says in defeat and embarrassment. His red eyes widen when the ogre snorts and beats its chest, the creature’s attention locked on the mayor. “Call him off. Don’t let that thing come near me. Damn it, elf, why don’t you do something? He’s walking over here!”

  Giving Pazel a kiss on the cheek, Linny slinks off the mayor’s lap and approaches her lumbering friend. She is about to speak before re
membering she is supposed to be mute, so the thief settles for running a finger across her throat. Unsure of what she means, Timoran guesses that the disguised gypsy wants him to charge the gnome. With a low roar, the fake ogre takes a few steps and stops when he is kicked in the lower back by Linny. Turning around and whimpering, the two champions resemble a master and her pet, which causes the supposedly unconscious Nyx to hide her chuckle with a violent cough. Snapping her fingers in his face, Linny points at a nearby corner and stomps her foot to get her orders across. Like a scolded child, Timoran walks to the spot and sits facing the cracked wall with his knees curled to his greasy chest.

  “They have an odd relationship,” Natalie whispers to put Pazel’s suspicions to rest. The were-crow rustles her hair, which sheds a few old feathers. “Please lead the way to where we can talk in private. Top floor is best since we don’t want prying eyes and ears. My friend promises that her pet will behave until we get back.”

  Stunned by the destruction and Linny’s control over the ogre, the mayor quietly leads his guests up the stairs. Several minutes pass before a wave of magic ripples through the ground floor of City Hall. With the spying spells tricked into watching an unchanging scene of unconscious bodies and rubble, Nyx sits up and Delvin crawls out of the wall. To his friends’ surprise, Timoran remains where he is to keep up the illusion of being a chastised ogre. Though he also feels that his rough treatment of Luke requires he be alone for a few minutes to think up the perfect apology. More than likely it will involve food, but the barbarian knows that it does not hurt to have a few comforting words ready.

  *****

  “Did we interrupt something?” Natalie asks at the sight of Dariana. It takes the thief a second to realize who the silver-haired woman is, the biggest hint a sudden tensing of Linny’s muscles. “This must be your captured telepath. Guessing the chair keeps her contained since you can’t let her wander off. Are you sure it’s safe to talk business with her around? Open a window, Linny, because our host has forgotten to bathe his new pet.”

  “I’ll be the one do that. Never know when guests will try to barge in,” Pazel says after he sees which window the blonde thief is heading for. He chooses one that is on the opposite side of the room, leaving it open only a quarter of the way. “Dariana is fine. She’s been giving me great advice, so I’m viewing her as a potential ally. Until the day I can trust her loyalty, the young lady must stay in the chair. Please take a seat while I pour you a drink. I’m afraid I only have two extra chairs here, so your friend will have to remain standing.”

  The gnome watches his guests in a mirror, Natalie taking a seat and nodding for Linny to perch herself on a windowsill. A gust of wind makes him shiver while he pours three glasses of brandy, one of them fuller than the others. With a flick of his wrist, Pazel slips a mild poison into the thieves’ drinks and turns to flash his most charming smile. He politely hands the crystal glasses to the two women and raises his hand for a silent toast. The gesture is stopped when Linny and Natalie draw thin vials of red liquid out of their pockets and add a drop into the brandy. Once they are sure the griffin blood has neutralized the powdery poison that has settled at the bottom of their glasses, the pair finish the alcohol in one synchronized gulp. Embarrassed and annoyed, Pazel takes a sip of his cherished brandy and claims his seat across from Dariana. Another gust of air whips around the room with enough force to leave the telepath’s silver hair a matted mess.

  “Offering a drink so quickly is very suspicious, Mayor Laufeia,” Natalie states as she goes to refill her glass. Handing the bottle to her companion, the guildmaster takes her chair and drags it closer to the gnome. “I don’t want to waste my time here. You hate me and my organization, so you see this telepath as the key to victory. Forget the fact that I could slit her throat right now and leave you to take the blame for murder. You’re lucky that’s not my style. Instead, I want to make a deal that we both benefit from. Now tell me what you want.”

  “As the mayor of Rodillen, I deserve to have the power and make the laws,” Pazel angrily declares. He attempts to read Linny’s mind, but pulls back when he is struck by a cacophony of loud bird song. “The guild takes so much money and gives very little back. You force laws that relieve you of any repercussions and increase your stranglehold on the populace. This is why I have a following. The people are sick and tired of living in fear and borderline poverty. With me in charge, the wealth shall return to them.”

  “I can’t say you’re wrong about that first part, but I doubt you’ll let them rise higher than they are now,” the ebony-haired thief says, a hint of disinterest in her voice. Nodding to her companion, Natalie waits for the elf to close the window. “Both of us are greedy, Pazel. Unlike you, I do nothing to hide that fact. Giving up any wealth and power to you isn’t in my best interest. Not to mention the guild would make me disappear and ignore the deal. Still, perhaps you’re right that we should give more back to the community. No telling what our situation will be when Duke Solomon’s daughter takes the throne. Appearing more benevolent and helpful could be the right path to survival.”

  “Then you will let me make the laws and give me a bigger cut?” asks the gnome as he wipes away blood-tinged sweat from his forehead. A cackling laugh makes him fume and grind his teeth, the question of why his pores are bleeding no longer on his mind. “Don’t you dare mock or insult me, thief. The politicians of this city deserve more than to be puppets living off your scraps.”

  Amused by the unexpected outburst, Natalie swirls her refreshed drink and puts her boots on the arm of Pazel’s chair. “Maybe you should have become a thief instead. Your life was built by your own hands, so don’t complain to me that it isn’t as fruitful as you’d hoped. More importantly, the guild does not take kindly to people plotting its destruction. Be thankful that I’m giving you a chance to negotiate when I have plenty of anxious killers waiting in the city’s shadows.”

  “Threatening me will only make me less pliable.”

  “You haven’t been very open thus far.”

  “All I want is the respect and power of a real mayor.”

  “Then leave Rodillen and rule another town.”

  The tension in the room becomes thick and suffocating, even for those who are not telepathic. Linny takes a drink directly from the glass bottle, which goes unnoticed by the red-faced gnome. She puts the alcohol back on the table and remains behind the mayor, her emerald eyes locking with Dariana’s gaze. The thief nods before Pazel turns and holds out his cup for more brandy, the man snapping his fingers as if she is one of his servants. Linny fights the temptation to tear off the wig and break the bottle over the mayor’s head. The only reason she stops is because she does not want to waste the alcohol or destroy such a beautiful, and possibly expensive, container.

  “Thank you, young lady,” Pazel says when his glass is full. He holds up his hand to stop the elf from giving more to the guildmaster. “I sense that this is no longer a negotiation. All you do is threaten and insult me. Now tell me what it is that you want.”

  “Currently, a glass of blackberry wine and that shiny pin on your lapel,” Natalie casually replies. Placing her glass on the floor, she leans her chair’s front legs off the floor and walks her feet up to the mayor’s shoulder. “I’ve heard your grievances and do agree that more should be done for the people. The guild can only remain strong if there is loot to be had. We can accomplish this, but not with your help. I see the ambition in your eyes. Such desires always end in self-destruction and I refuse to let you hurt my family for your own gain. In simpler words, I want you to step down and leave the city. We would be better off with you gone and this is your chance to do so under your own power.”

  With a Gnomish curse, Pazel slaps the guildmaster’s feet away and leaps out of his chair. He focuses his telepathy on the woman with the intent to turn her mind off. Natalie winces and coughs from the irritation coursing through her body, but the attack achieves nothing more than a painful headache. The gnome slaps at the c
rown and forcefully adjusts it, causing blood to dribble down his face. Confused and enraged, Pazel draws a handful of metal orbs from his inner pocket and hurls them at Linny. The fake elf leaps away from the tiny explosives that leave burn marks on the rugs and threaten to ignite one of the curtains. With the other thief across the room, he draws a dagger and flips Natalie’s chair in the hopes of leaving her exposed. The nimble woman rolls with the falling furniture and dives away from the sloppily thrown weapon, which clatters into the fireplace.

  Pazel tries to control the two thieves again, but neither of them do what he commands. He does not feel anything when he tries to use his telepathy and even the mild amount of pressure he has been feeling has disappeared. It dawns on him that Dariana has found a way to reclaim her powers, leaving the gnome defenseless. Knowing that her death is the only way to remove the painful crown, Pazel grabs a crystal goblet and snaps the stem off to use as a shiv. Assuming the telepath is still locked in the paralysis spell, the mayor charges to deliver a killing blow. To his surprise and horror, Dariana suddenly spreads her legs, grabs the top of the chair, and flips away from his clumsy attack. The champion balances upside down with one arm as the mayor lands on the dimpled cushion and is shocked by the malfunctioning paralysis spell.

  “This is not enough to stop me,” Pazel growls, his hand reaching for Dariana. He stops when Fizzle materializes on top of the chair, the drite leaning down to lance out his forked tongue in menace. “And what are you going to do?”

  “Night night,” the dragon hisses before enveloping the mayor’s head in a cloud of rainbow smoke.