A roaring screech erupts above their heads and is responded to by a long-lasting howl from behind them. Phantoms of the griffin and Stiletto come into view, but they ignore the champions and continue toward Haven. Looking back, the women can see that most of the pine forest has been demolished by the Sword Dragon and it is starting to attack Goldheart Manor. The screams of those inside are so loud that the champions can pick out who is being eaten by the towering monster and when somebody is stabbed by the snake fiend. Bursting from the trees, Nyx sprints as fast as she can and does her best to ignore the sight of the spirits laying waste to people who part of her still feels like she has known for years.
*****
“Dariana betrayed us?” Nyx asks after Fizzle tells his story. She shakes her head and shrugs at the sight of Luke bouncing around, the forest tracker attempting to reenact his battle with their former ally. “I get it, little brother. You got your butt kicked by her while Fizzle was sent to fly in circles for a day. Seems Isaiah took a beating too. Guess our only remaining question is who gets first crack at her when we get free. I mean, I still believe that I have a son even though I can’t remember what he looked like.”
“I would prefer that we talk to her,” Timoran states as he turns away from the window. The light from the burning town shines into the house, which shakes as the angry spirits decimate Haven. “Before anybody argues, I remind you that I am technically losing children too. Yet I refuse to condemn Dariana until we know her reasons. She could be under the Baron’s control or have been replaced by a copy at some point. We have faced problems like this before.”
“I’ve been thinking of what happened to Sari and myself,” Delvin interjects, his attention predominantly on the open wound in the gypsy’s chest. His powers are incapable of repairing her flesh, so he tries to reach inside only to get smacked across the face. “I didn’t realize how that would look, so I deserve that shot. Fizzle said that we’re supposed to be a gift to the Baron. That probably explains why Sari is walking around with an exposed heart instead of being dead. Can we die in here?”
“Fizzle think only if allowed,” the drite replies from a platter of candied apples. The melted sugar is covering his mouth, which makes it look like the dragon’s face is bathed in blood. “No know why Dariana do this. Want Fizzle as pet. Not kill Isaiah. Think want fat lizard for later hunt. Dariana talk of portal. Travel to Baron. How he get here?”
Shivering at the cold wind billowing into her open chest cavity, Sari grabs a blanket from a wall peg and wraps it around her body. “Maybe we’ll be brought to him. Then again, he’ll have the Compass Key, which could change everything. No matter her reasons, Dariana made a really big mess. Though I’m confused on why she turned Luke into a ghost and had most of us severely injured.”
The forest tracker jumps and flails wildly, but his constant flow of indecipherable gargles only frustrates him. He scratches taps his foot on the floor and tries to think of a way to communicate, his friends watching expectantly. Luke’s eyes fall on an inked quill and a pad that Sari uses to jot down her inventory and supply orders. Rushing through the couch and causing the gypsy to jump out of his path, the spectral champion tries to grab the feathery tool. With his hands incapable of holding the quill, the half-elf catches it between the pommels of his solid sabers. The writing takes nearly fifteen minutes and Luke’s penmanship is horrible, but he figures it is the best he can do given the situation. Pointing at Timoran, the ghost urges his friend to read the hastily scrawled message.
“Let me read it silently first to make sure I get it right,” the barbarian requests, squinting at the wet letters. Taking a seat next to Delvin, he mouths the words and shakes his head several times until he feels like he has made a decent translation. “I apologize if I get any of this wrong, my friend. Luke was the last of us to be captured. It happened after he learned about Dariana’s betrayal, so she may have feared he would remember in this world. She turned him into a ghost and kept him locked away for the years that the rest of us enjoyed. Beyond that, he does not know why she would do any of this instead of making all of us sleep in silence. It could be to leave us disoriented when we awaken or even cocky since we have memories of already defeating the Baron. Luke also points out that several of the events that occurred in this illusion are what we recently mentioned around Dariana. That is strange.”
“Not at all,” Nyx states before she conjures a fireball in her hand. The sensation of her skin melting is strong enough to make her drop the spell, which disappears in a puff of smoke. “Think about the conversation where we brought up Dariana being controlled by the Baron and us having to kill her. It came out of nowhere, which has bugged me until I forgot the topic even came up. If this has been her plan all along then she must have been using her powers on us. All of the times we brought up our future plans or our fears of the final battle around her were forced. Well maybe not all of them, but she must have started when it was obvious that we wouldn’t die early like our predecessors.”
“I doubt she was always that manipulative,” Delvin argues while he goes to the window. A chill runs up his spine at the sight of thousands of spirits standing motionless among the burning ruins of the town. “We trusted her, so all she had to do was ask us a question. There were several times that she did. Doesn’t really matter at this point. I want to know what she’s planning and why she did this. We saw her cripple her own brother and suffer alongside us. What changed in her?”
“There is the possibility that it has always been this way,” Timoran replies, tapping at his stump. Sweat beads on his forehead as he tries to force the limb to regrow, the sensation of it being there on the edge of his consciousness. “Perhaps Dariana needed a group of champions who would trust her with their lives. That would be the only way to lead us into such a trap. If we did not consider her a friend then her issues with the Compass Key and the strangeness around the swamp would have put us on edge. The only way to know for sure is to escape and face her.”
Sari drops her tea on the counter and grabs a bottle of wine, her injury no longer preventing her from having a drink. “Anybody know how we get out of here?”
The champions jump when a loud knock strikes the door and sunlight pours through the window. Nobody moves as thin shadows drift across the house and black grass sprouts in their wake. Their mysterious visitor bangs against the wall, which sends several pictures shattering against the floor. A child-like sigh stops the changes, but the landscape remains partially transformed. The only sound that remains is Fizzle crunching on the last of the apples, the drite barely aware of his own actions.
“I knew this plan would fail because she rushed it,” a small voice declares from the back of the room. A small, silver-haired girl is sitting on the stairs with a chocolate lollipop in one hand and a tattered doll in the other. “You should have woken up by now. Finding Luke was the key to escaping, but I need to show you some things first. The truth behind Dariana, which will explain all of what she has done. If you ask me, she should have put you directly into her memories instead of this odd world. Maybe there’s still a part of her that wants all of you to be happy. That or Dariana is more sadistic than even I realize and wants you to suffer.”
“Who or what are you?” Delvin asks, his fingers drumming on the hilt of his blade. The weapon flies from its scabbard and thuds into the ceiling. “I’m sorry, but you’re obviously a version of Dariana. Needless to say that puts me on edge.”
“You’d be a fool if that wasn’t the case,” the child claims before taking a long lick of her treat. She flicks her hand and returns the bastard sword to the warrior, but fuses the weapon to its scabbard. “There’s no easy answer to your questions. I am Dariana, but I haven’t been the real one for centuries. The simple explanation is that every time her memory is erased, the older version was stored within her subconscious. Normally, we quietly sleep and only wake up for the brief instant a new sister is born. This plan, and I use the term loosely, has stirred everyone because
much of her power is being focused on this place. Though I’m now here to take the reins of this world. Don’t ask why you should trust me or do anything that will delay us. It’s past my bedtime and I’m cranky. Also, I might be the only one left because of a small accident. So, please let me do this as proof that I mean you no harm.”
Straightening her white dress, the young Dariana hops off the stairs and skips to where Luke is standing. Blowing on her open palm, she slaps the forest tracker in the chest and sends a surge of energy through his body. As the gasping half-elf becomes flesh and blood, the girl approaches Sari and blows on the open chest wound. With her drink still in her mouth, the gypsy sputters while the hole peels away and leaves nothing more than pristine skin behind. The child Dariana nods approvingly at her own work and makes her way to Timoran, who is already offering his armless side. Wiggling her fingers, she jams her hand into the stump and yanks out an arm complete with its familiar scars.
“One more repair to go and then we can leave,” the child declares before she jumps into Nyx’s lap. She violently rips the channeler’s face off, which removes the deep furrows and reveals a pristine façade of smooth skin. “I will say now that this only explains where Dariana came from. It doesn’t clear her of any crimes she’s committed. In fact, you can use this information as a weapon when you face her. Not like I’m close to her since we haven’t talked before.”
The girl claps her hands and a silver door appears in the middle of the room. She rummages through the solitary pocket of her doll’s dress, eventually pulling a tiny bronze key out. The young Dariana casually tosses the piece of metal at the lock, which explodes with a splatter of sparks that sets the house on fire. She rolls her eyes at how Sari sheds tears for the fictional world, but waves her arm to stuff the gypsy’s dress with the last of her precious sweets. The silver door abruptly swings open and sucks the champions into its blinding depths as the fake Haven melts into a puddle of psychic slag.
15
“I wondered if you were going to appear,” Dariana says, turning to face Gabriel. Holding her ribs, the injured woman leans against the mountain pass’s entrance. “Save your breath, Hell Lord. There is nothing you can say that will stop me from bringing your game to an end.”
“No . . . Stop . . . Do not continue,” Gabriel mockingly drones with a chuckle. He waves away the storm that is brewing around the mountain range, which causes the former champion to eye him suspiciously. “I had considered throwing another obstacle your way. After all, why should Zaria and the drite have all the fun? Instead, I will let you challenge the path and enjoy the reunion. Not only the one with your father, but those who are waiting along the road. Seems the Spirit Well is out to make you suffer.”
Not wanting to waste any more time, Dariana walks through the entrance and finds herself on a wide path among the towering cliffs. There are abyssal gaps running along the edges of the road, their width enough for her to fall through if she slips. Dropping a rock into the pit, the telepath waits for a noise that never comes and shudders at the thought of an endless fall. Unlike most people, Dariana knows she would be trapped for eternity instead of dying of starvation or dehydration. Turning her attention to the smooth mountainsides, she is surprised to see faint scratch marks in the stone. Her best guess is that people have attempted to jump the gap and climb the sheer wall, the result always being a plunge into the ravenous abyss.
“Only mad people have been drawn to this place,” Gabriel explains, startling the tense woman. Unafraid of the gap, he walks over the open space and runs a gloved hand along the scratches. “We believe the energy from your father’s portal acts as a beacon. Those that are sensitive to his influence and wander within a few miles of the pass will come here. Most of them eventually feel like they are being suffocated and try to escape. Only two mortals have ever made it to the portal. Though I do not believe either of them were mad.”
Dariana picks up a few images from the god’s mind, but refuses to delve any deeper due to her injuries and exhaustion. “General Vile sought a strong leader after the man he followed betrayed the entire army. It was not insanity that drew him here, but a quest to find one who would give him what he desired. As for the Lich, he wanted power and to serve a master that promised him a place to belong. For all of his faults, Tyler was never one to give up unless he was ordered to stand down. What do they have to do with me?”
“Nothing and everything,” the black-haired god replies, whistling to seal the pass’s stone entrance. Wiping some pebbles from his platemail, Gabriel enjoys how the voices of his insistent followers have been silenced by the magic of the mountain road. “Obviously, you seek to join their ranks and become an agent of your father. That is your choice, godling, but we both know it will not go as you expect. A champion cannot turn completely from the path even if she is throwing a childish tantrum. That ambitious gnome in Helgard tried to alter the prophecy and look at what happened. Wiped out a generation of heroes, created a destructive beast, risked a species, and got herself cursed for centuries. On the other hand, you have already accomplished one of those milestones multiple times and I believe you wiped out a telepath hunting race at one point in your career. I tend to stop paying attention to your feats when they move away from what I want you to do.”
“And yet you are here to annoy me.”
“On the contrary, I came to thank you for making things even more entertaining.”
“I’m not your puppet.”
The god claps his hands and fights the urge to laugh so loud that the echo would collapse half of the mountain range. “Of course you are. All of you are. Though you have the distinguishing honor of being the puppet of many. The poor little telepath is always getting pulled in a new direction by a fresh master. Do you work for me, Zaria, Stephen, Arthuru, the champions, or maybe one of the other gods that I have lent you out to? No wonder you betrayed your new friends. After all these centuries, I do not believe you know what loyalty is, so there should be no surprise when you cause trouble like you are doing now. It is almost self-destructive in a way.”
Knowing the punch will never land, Dariana curses in an ancient tongue and swings at Gabriel. To her surprise, the blow bounces off the god’s platemail and results in two of her fingers breaking. The force of the ricochet is enough to send her stumbling toward the edge of the path, but she is caught by the arm before she can fall. Gabriel gently moves her to safety and taps at the miniscule dent in his armor, which he decides to leave alone. Patting the telepath on the head, the Destiny God steps out of her way and hovers over the abyss. He scowls at the feeling of invisible hands caressing his feet, the local spirits angry at him for tricking them into challenging the maddening path.
“One day, your puppets will turn against you,” Dariana states, not wanting to thank the god for catching her. The telepath’s lip curls when she picks up on the ambient thoughts of the ghosts that are lurking within the shrinking shadows. “Destiny Gods always fall, Gabriel. Best that you remember that fact, especially since my father will be returning soon. I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten your betrayal. The others might be safe from his vengeance, but you will always be the Kernaghan’s most hated enemy.”
“A title I will always wear proudly,” Gabriel declares, thumping his chest with his fist. The sight of the wounded woman makes him laugh, which causes a passing bird to multiply into a confused flock. “I am amused that you refuse to heal your wounds. Possibly a nasty habit that remains from when you wished to be fully mortal. Oh well, I guess it makes what is coming that much more interesting.”
“Happy to entertain you.”
“Tell your old friends that I say hello.”
“Goodbye, Hell Lord.”
“I’d recommend doing it before they tear your throat out.”
Dariana throws a rock at Gabriel, but the god vanishes and the stone bursts against the smooth wall. Flexing her injured hand, the telepath notices that her clear ring is stuck on one of the broken knuckles. Making a fist, she no
tices that the band is putting too much pressure on the finger and the pain is making it difficult to focus. The idea of numbing the area crosses her mind, but she knows the agony would return with a vengeance if she comes across a spot that requires straining the digit. Gritting her teeth, Dariana yanks the artifact off and falls to her knees at the onslaught of hate that bombards her mind. Murderous thoughts and disturbing images punch into her psyche, which desperately tries to reject them. Her hands are quivering as she gets the ring onto another finger and blocks the sea of aggression that has driven her to tears. Even with the mental barrier back in place, Dariana finds that a chorus of taunting voices are still echoing in her head. All of them want her to continue along the path and promise to make her trip as punishing as possible.
*****
“Been a long time, monster.”
“Still as pretty as the time you let me die.”
“Mutter about us as much as you want, we aren’t leaving you alone.”
“I say we push her into the abyss.”
“Awww, I think the little thing is injured.”
The army of ghosts laugh in unison and continue following Dariana, their spectral forms turning vivid green in the sunlight. Nimble thieves walk on the walls while hulking warriors plod down the path, many of them waiting for a chance to throw a verbal barb at the telepath. Archers creep along the top of the wall and keep their translucent arrows trained on their former ally’s heart. The casters and priests are less boisterous and insulting, but they repeatedly send spells to poke and smack at Dariana. One savage slap to the side of the head causes her to stop and massage the ache in her neck. Rocks are dropped on the path in an attempt to hit the former champion, but she easily dodges the lazy attacks. The desire to retaliate is strong, but she remains calm by remembering the incident of each one’s demise. Dariana grins at a roaring warrior who is comparing her to a maggot until the woman’s eerie expression makes him stop in midsentence and back away.
The Spirit Well Page 28
