The Spirit Well

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Muttering a curse, the gnome’s eyes flutter for a few seconds before he collapses and slides toward the floor. The crown catches on the chair and pops off his head, leaving deep, bleeding furrows in his scalp. He is still trying to speak even though he is barely aware of his surroundings, his words slurred to the point of sounding like moans. Pazel is knocked out completely when Dariana dismounts from the chair and taps his temple with her heel. The telepath increases his pain receptors, which makes the mild contact feel like a sledgehammer has been swung into the side of his skull.

  “Welcome back, Dari!” Sari shouts now that she is free to talk again. The gypsy gives her friend a tight hug around the waist and fails to realize she is standing on Pazel’s freshly broken fingers. “I want to say that we rescued you, but I don’t think you were ever in real danger. Why didn’t you just leave after you got what you needed?”

  “I’m sorry, but I returned to my body just before your attack,” Dariana replies as she escapes her friend’s tight embrace. The telepath hops over the unconscious mayor to extend a hand to the guildmaster, who is pocketing a few shiny baubles. “Thank you for helping us. I know there wasn’t anything in it for you besides removing an enemy. Although, there is a safe hidden behind the fireplace. You could take that for your troubles.”

  “Not necessary. We use that thing as an emergency fund and let the mayors think we’re unware it exists,” Natalie says while accepting the handshake. She is about to slip the glass ring off the champion’s finger, but stops when she senses invisible hands tapping at her throat. “Do you and Fizzle mind checking on your friends? I want to talk to Sari alone. I promise it will only take a few minutes and then all of you can leave. Better move quickly too because our weather watchers are predicting the first snowfall. Winter seems to be moving in rather quickly this year.”

  “Perhaps Tavon wishes to be gone from the sky before true darkness returns,” the telepath suggests as Fizzle lands on her shoulder. She rubs her legs and grimaces at the faint smell of sweat that is wafting off her clothes. “We will meet you at the tavern, Sari. I assume you and Timoran wish to change into warmer and more familiar clothes. Again, thank you for rescuing me. I appreciate it even though I was not really captured. By the way, what will you do with him?”

  Natalie gently guides the champion toward the doorway and smiles as she gets the woman out of the room. She is sure Dariana will read her mind, but the thief has not made a decision on what type of punishment to use on the gnome. All the guildmaster knows is that he threatened her family and has to be dealt with. She considers turning Pazel into a public example in case he had conspirators, but his ineptitude makes her believe that it would be a waste of time and he was working alone. Turning back to Sari, Natalie finds the gypsy shedding her wig and loosening the damaged bodysuit.

  “I have to admit that you’re impressive,” the guildmaster states while the other woman strips naked. She finds the act of boldness awkward and looks away, a faint reflection in the window catching her attention. “You’re nothing like the city thieves. We stick to our strengths while you show a greater versatility. That’s why I want to admit that I had another motive. Something I thought up after I saw what you did in the Wonder Museum. What would you say to leading the Rodillen guild?”

  “I’d say you’re nuts and know nothing about gypsies,” Sari replies as she finishes pulling fresh clothes from her bottomless pouch. She frowns at her feet, which are left bare because her precious boots are still in the guild’s lair. “My people are wanders, so being in charge of a stationary group isn’t very appealing. Besides, my friends need me and it wouldn’t be right to abandon them when we’re so close to the end of our path. I’m surprised you want to leave the job behind since you seem to enjoy it.”

  “The guild has had a run of bad luck over the last year and a half. I’m merely holding things together,” the were-crow admits before pruning a few feathers that are peeking out from her sleeve. Taking a seat on the windowsill, she pats the wall for Sari to get closer. “I know gypsies hate staying in one place, but you never know what the future will hold. After all of your adventures are done and your friends have settled down, you might be looking for a place where you belong and are understood. A solitary gypsy can’t stay on the road forever. You need a family and the guild is one that would welcome you with open arms. So just remember the offer when you reach the end of the road.”

  “Thanks, but I do have a family and they won’t get rid of me so easily.”

  “In that case, take care of yourself, Sari. I’ll clean things up here.”

  The thieves hug before the blue-haired champion hurries to reunite with her friends and continue on their path. Once she is sure that there are no prying eyes, Natalie goes to Pazel and casually plunges a dagger into the gnome’s chest. The twitching body hisses and dissolves into a pile of dust that she kicks under the nearest rug. Drawing an ivory pouch from a breast pocket, the thief tosses it into the fireplace and transforms into a crow before the ebony flames erupt from the stone. Sitting only inches from the icy inferno, Natalie patiently listens for a cough to signify that her employer is ready to receive her message.

  “I’m sure you were listening to everything, boss. That’s all I could get on what Sari and her friends are planning. Hope it’s enough since it seemed oddly mundane. Yes, I know most of them are rather simple and only want to rest after their destiny. I agree that every little bit of information helps and that it isn’t my place to question you. Look, I took over the guild a month ago when you ordered me to and I appreciate being given this new position. I only worry that I didn’t do a good job and you’ll replace me.” A shudder runs through Natalie’s body and several feathers fall into the hungry flames. “I’m sorry. Thank you for giving me this opportunity. Let me know if you ever need the Rodillen guild’s help. Good luck, boss.”

  7

  With the midday sun struggling to combat the late autumn chill, the champions anxiously turn off the forest road. Having left Rodillen at dawn, all of them are tired and infectious yawns repeatedly spread throughout the group. An occasional snowflake drifts through the barren branches, one of them landing in Sari’s hair and stretching into a single strand of white. Finding a trio of lightning-licked stumps, the adventurers settle down for a brief rest and a look at the map. Not wanting to risk a thief learning of their destination, they have yet to use the ghost blood on the document. Their paranoia has driven them much further north than they planned since even the call of a crow forces them to continue walking. All that they have to go by is Dariana feeling the correct direction, but the champions all agree that her vague memories have yet to steer them wrong.

  The telepath unfurls the map of Ralian while her friends pass around waterskins and trail rations, which have already gone cold. Unable to gather supplies, they do their best to enjoy the paltry meal that does little to satisfy their hunger and warm their bellies. Aware that hunting would be a waste of time and energy due to an approaching storm, the champions know that they have to stretch their reserves. Even so, everyone glances at Luke and his Feast Ring, the dark yellow band clearly emblazoned with the symbols of a goblet and cooked chicken. The half-elf is about to activate the food-creating artifact, but Timoran catches his wrist and softly shakes his head.

  “Conservation is key since we do not know when we will find food again,” the barbarian says, his voice low and tinged with fatigue. Sensing that his energy is fading, the warrior takes a deep breath and releases enough of his rage to create an invigorating rush of adrenaline. “I do wish the guild allowed us to gather supplies before leaving. Though I should be happy that they returned our gear to us.”

  “It did feel like we were being run out of town,” Nyx states while she keeps her body covered in a thin layer of flames. Sensitive to the cold, the channeler hops from one foot to the other and mutters a wish that she specialized in ice magic instead of fire. “Nothing we can do about it now. Probably for the best too. Rodillen is not on my
list of cities to spend a lot of time in. Let’s get the map working and try to reach a town. I’m starting to see more snowflakes coming, which is strange for this time of year.”

  “There’s something wrong with the air,” Luke states as he rubs his hands together. Reaching into his pouch, he searches for a pair of leather gloves that show very few signs of ever having been worn. “It’s like the land knows a great event will occur and Windemere will change in the aftermath. That or the Baron has Yola messing with the weather. Even though you say she isn’t a goddess, Dariana, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is within her power. What if the storm is magical and designed to drive us away from the Spirit Well?”

  “Then we use Nyxie to stay warm and wait it out,” Sari answers, sticking her tongue out to catch a flake. Taking a swig of fairy water, the gypsy does her best to clear the taste of cheap jerky from her tongue. “Personally, I doubt they’d send a storm after us. Doesn’t seem like something the Baron would do. Unless there are demons in the blinding snow, which means we should find a town or even a cave to take refuge in.”

  Delvin sharply whistles for the others to be quiet, the warrior holding open the map for Dariana. The telepath waits for her friends to get closer before revealing the thin vial of ghost blood. A pulse-like glimmer of light is all that they can see of the ephemeral liquid, which is carefully dripped onto the center of the map. Faint edges of the tiny puddle can be seen and they become more defined as the ichor shifts and flows. Taking on a swirling pattern of white and transparent patches, the blood spreads out to mark their location. It creates a tiny image of a silver-haired figure that is just north of Rodillen and a hair away from the narrow road that materializes. The path cuts through the forests and hills, coming close to a few small villages that are marked as crimson squares. A series of distorted circles lead to the coast and a black triangle is marked in the middle of the area, which sits between the Caster Swamp and the Swamp of the Sun.

  “That’s the Pixie Patch or the Minnow Isles depending on who you talk to,” Delvin says when they are sure the blood is done moving. Placing the map on one of the tree stumps, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s a ten mile wide and fifty mile long area of mangrove islands that has no villages or even locals beyond a few crazy hermits. Pirates are known to use the area for easy access to the ocean, but you can’t get big ships very far inland because the waterways are tight and shallow. Very easy to get lost too, which might be why the Spirit Well is there. Will you be able to guide us through the area, Dariana?”

  “I believe I’ll remember the path when we reach the border,” the telepath promises in a soft, unsure voice. With the others staring at her, Dariana forces a comforting smile onto her face and bows her head. “I’m sorry. This seems rather surreal to me. The closer we get to the Spirit Well, the better my memory will be. With Cessia’s blessing, I hope to recall the dangers of the area because I fear that my temple will not make this easy. Only going by its name, I wouldn’t be surprised if it has already unleashed something deadly and mysterious.”

  “In other words this is going to be like every other temple we’ve tackled,” Sari interjects before the mood gets too dark. The gypsy spins on her toes and catches Nyx by the wrist to drag her toward the road. “We have our route, so let’s get moving. We can’t travel through the worst of the storm, which means we need to cover as much ground as possible.”

  “That first village is too far away for us to make before the storm hits,” Timoran points out while he sniffs at the air. Staring into the distance, he can already see roiling clouds at the edge of the horizon. “My suggestion is that we go back to Rodillen and risk an encounter with the thieves. They will understand that the weather was too harsh for travel.”

  “Natalie made it clear that she wanted us to move on,” Delvin states, following Sari and Nyx to the road. Pulling his warm coat around his chainmail, the warrior is tempted to use his aura for heat, but does not want to risk using too much energy. “I’m not used to being cold. Amazing that I never realized it took really big temperature drops to make me shiver. Maybe I should have focused my fount powers on strengthening myself. You know, I can still do that. What do you think, Nyx?”

  The channeler escapes her friend’s grip and walks backwards, but she nearly trips and is left wondering why she keeps trying. “You don’t need my permission to use your magic. Besides, your specialty isn’t that restrictive. A few deviations here and there aren’t going to kill or age you. Undrasi merely said you can’t switch magic types so close to each other and a specialty will help you focus. This isn’t battle, so you can worry about yourself. Just know that I’ll be watching for signs that you’re going too far.”

  “Did you just turn into an overbearing wife?” Luke asks as he catches up. The forest tracker ducks to the other side of Timoran to avoid a pinch that would have left a welt on his cheek. “I’m with Delvin and Sari on this. Staying in one spot for too long is asking for the Baron to send agents after us. That would probably be Yola and I’m not looking forward to the day we have to fight her again. Come to think of it, how does she factor into this final battle? Do we have to face her and the Baron at the same time?”

  “I never really thought about it,” Dariana admits with a nervous laugh. The thought of battling Yola makes her temples ache, but part of her believes she can win if she unleashes her full power. “It’s certainly a possibility. He has Nyder Fortune too, but he is not a fighter. To be honest, I would be surprised if my father let anyone else enter the battle. I remember him once saying that the death of the final champions must be at his hands to show Windemere that he has truly returned. All about a glorious, public victory, I guess.”

  “Fizzle be there too,” the drite declares from his seat on Timoran’s head. The dragon takes to the air and flips a few times to show off his agility. “Champions have friends. Baron face many and not win. Fizzle only one of army.”

  An awkward silence falls over the group as they consider that their final battle will drag all of their friends into danger. Each one imagines the Baron using their loved ones as hostages or casting a spell to turn them into enemies. With so many people attacking a single foe, the chaos would be intense and there would be the risk of having to hold back. Most of the champions show only a glimmer of anxiety about such a situation, but one person is openly upset. Nyx holds out her hand and creates a small fireball, which she knows would be nothing more than a magical gnat to a being as strong as the Baron. Yet, she fears that having too many innocent bystanders would force her to restrain her magic at a crucial moment. Several tears trickle down her cheeks at the thought of friends dying at her hands or another incident like the genocide spell she unleashed on Hero’s Gate.

  “That’s enough bad talk,” Sari announces, putting an arm around Nyx. She gives the half-elf a firm smack on the butt before spinning her into Delvin’s hands. “We push forward and keep an eye on the storm. I say we pitch the tents near a hot spring. That way we can get a bath, relax, and forget all the hardships ahead of us. Momentary ignorance is our friend this day.”

  “There aren’t any hot springs in this area,” Luke mentions as he recalls maps of the area. All he can see with his bard’s memory are several lakes and ponds, but none of them are known to be heated. “You would need volcanos or some type of magical source for a hot spring. Not that I hate the idea. It’s just that they aren’t here.”

  “Silly hero. You’re looking at the hot spring,” the gypsy says with an impish smile.

  *****

  “And no peeking!” Sari shouts at the nearby tent.

  Along with Nyx and Dariana, the blue-haired woman settles into the lake and floats on her back. She watches the snowstorm rage on the other side of the heat shield that covers half of the water and the land where their tents are prepared. It is difficult to see a lot of what is going on outside the tiny haven due to thick steam wafting off the hazy dome. Birds pass into the area and remain in the branches that poke through
the barrier, many of them shaking off a thin layer of snow. Closing her eyes, Sari adjusts the water temperature and dips under the surface to make sure all of the animals she sensed are protected. Satisfied with her creation, the gypsy swims to where her friends are quietly submerged up to their necks. An attempt to splash the pair results in the spray being evaporated and a bigger wave washing the startled attacker out of the heated area. With a flurry of flailing limbs, Sari scrambles back to the others, her breath coming out in white puffs. It takes her a few seconds to realize that she is not nearly as cold as she should be, her naiad nature allowing her to handle the freezing water with some resistance.

  “So why no peeking?” Nyx asks while she reaches for a chunk of soap. Rubbing the mild-smelling bar around her stomach, she lets her fingers linger on her old arrow wound. “It isn’t like anybody here hasn’t seen you or most of us naked. When we were going to save you and Delvin, the four of us weren’t even caring.”

  “I take it you want to put a show on for the boys,” Saria bluntly replies, grinning at how her friend sinks further under the water. With a sigh, she has the lake churn around their bodies and remove the thicker patches of dirt from their skin. “I know I’m not the model of decency, but it feels weird now. Timoran is married and the other two are engaged. One to my best friend and the other . . . well, you know. Maybe I’m only feeling somber right now because the end of our destiny is coming. Until recently, the final battle felt like something that could never happen or at least wasn’t as heavy a burden. Now it’s right around the corner.”

  “Let’s talk about happier things. After all, this may be the last time the three of us can enjoy a bath together,” Dariana interjects while sheepishly splashing at her friends. A brief thought brings her attention to Sari and she blushes from the vision. “I didn’t mean that kind of enjoyment. You thought that on purpose.”