Dariana disappears in a curtain of sparks, her voice drifting from every corner of the vast expanse. “Didn’t they?”
*****
Fizzle wakes up in the trunk of a hollow tree and takes a minute to figure out that he is upside down. Clambering out of the oak, he sniffs the breeze for signs of his friends before recognizing the scent of Visindor Forest. He stretches his tail and flutters his wings, shaking a few angry beetles off his body. The shifting of a large body causes the drite to cautiously climb around the tree where he finds Isaiah standing over Dariana. Fizzle growls and darts toward the kneeling telepath, but he is gently caught by the fireskin and held back. The disintegration spell on his lips is stolen by the caster’s staff and transformed into a mist that brings a calming clarity to the drite’s mind. No longer interested in attacking, the dragon lands on the ground and takes a longer look at the woman. Cocking his head to the side, Fizzle is confused as to why Dariana is weeping.
“I’m sorry for what I did, but I had a good reason,” the woman apologizes while wringing her bottomless pouch. A violent cough wracks her body and she realizes one of her broken ribs is scratching at a lung. “Long ago, I tried to sabotage the prophecy and failed. Though I always had a plan that I could put into action if I found a way to reunite with my father. This was before I had friends.”
“Fizzle not understand,” the drite admits when the telepath stops to wipe her nose on her sleeve. He backs away when it looks like she is about to reach toward him, the kneejerk action making her tear up. “If we friends then why you turn? Fizzle not want hate Dariana. Hard to do. Trust need come back.”
“Tell him what you told me,” Isaiah says with a tired sigh. Drawing a healing potion from his crimson robe, he downs it and shudders as new teeth grow into place. “We need Fizzle’s help to save the others. The Baron said he sent Nyder Fortune’s pets to claim the champions, who I believe are still in the caskets you created. If I had to guess at the danger, I would say at least two Weapon Dragons are heading for the swamp.”
Dariana glares at the fireskin, a flicker of anger appearing in her white eyes. “Gabriel has always said that at least one champion will die against my father. I never had a problem with that until now. So I tried to find a way I could end the prophecy and prevent any of the others from dying. After all, my fate was sealed long ago and death has always been a better option. Due to my lineage, it’s also the more elusive, so I doubted the fallen champion would be me. When we were in Stonehelm and saw how Timoran’s loyalty was turned against him, I realized my plan to betray the champions could be used to save my friends. It would bring me close to my father and give me a chance to destroy him. All I needed to do was put the others in a safe place and make everyone believe I was a traitor.”
Seeing the doubt in their eyes, Dariana shies away and meekly reaches out with her telepathy. Isaiah and Fizzle resist her touch at first, but give in when she bows at their feet and stares pleadingly at the snowy ground. Accessing only the part of their brains that controls what they see, the telepath creates a copy of the Baron’s portal. Dariana turns the black disc to show its thin side before she peels the gateway open, the two sides as thin as paper. A void sits between the pieces and its darkness absorbs all light and heat that it touches. Experienced with magic and old enough to know of the sliver dimension theory, Isaiah and Fizzle can only stare at the telepath in shock.
“Every portal has a unique space between its two sides. Otherwise, it would occupy only one location instead of two,” Dariana explains, passing her hand into the void. An agonizing chill runs up her arm, but she refuses to acknowledge that it is all in her head. “My plan was to play the part of traitor and offer the Compass Key through the portal. Once my father grabbed the one object he needs to escape, I would have pulled him into the space and jumped inside myself. His curse lurks in the portal, but it would have been confused due to me having the blood of Zaria in my veins. From within the sliver dimension, I could have collapsed both sides before my father knew what was happening. The last of the Kernaghan bloodline would be contained indefinitely due to our immortality. That is how I planned to stop the game and save my friends. They would be free and only I would be suffering, which has always been my life. Do you believe I acted foolishly, old lizard?”
“Yes, but I must admit that your plan had merit,” Isaiah answers, his voice filled with shame. Pushing Dariana out of his mind, the fireskin takes a seat on a nearby stump and taps his staff on the ground. “Sacrifices can be noble, but they are rarely effective. If you were successful then the prophecy would remain out of fear of the Baron escaping. Not to mention your friends would despise you once they woke up because Fizzle would tell them about your betrayal. I assume the trap was designed to fade away over time.”
“I left a key in the false world,” the telepath replies, wiping a dribble of ruby blood from her chin. Dariana is comforted by Fizzle landing on her shoulder, but her damaged ring prevents her from blocking his caution. “Luke was difficult to embed in the world because of his spirits. I made him a ghost and the way out of the dream. Once the others reunited with him and learned the truth, they would awaken. Fizzle was a backup in case something went wrong and I needed a friend on the outside to break the trance.”
“Fizzle remember other Dariana. Said world went bad,” the drite says as the memory of a spell rises to his mind. The incantation is foreign to the dragon, having been implanted by the telepath in case the others fail to awaken. “Not like trick. Yet know why. Dariana friend. Not smart or wise friend. Fizzle not stay angry. Would do same in pos . . . posi . . . place. Why not tell friends?”
Smacking the ground with his thick tail, Isaiah clenches his staff in frustration. “Because she feared that the Baron was watching or spying on her thoughts. It had to be this way because at least half of her power was maintaining the illusionary world. Correct me if I’m wrong, Dariana, but you haven’t been able to create sturdy mental barriers since this began. It explains why so many ghosts have been able to come attack you. You knew that the moment your father picked up on the trap, the champions would fall into his grasp along with the Compass Key. From how this ended, it appears you was right.”
“That would be your fault,” the telepath snaps, glaring at the caster. She stares at her dirt-covered hands when the fireskin turns away, his mind giving off thoughts of shame. “I’m sorry for that. You weren’t aware of the situation. Yet I do want to say that you’re at a point where standing on the edge of events is no longer an option. Either your role ends here and you walk away from the prophecy or you step onto the real battlefield. That is something you should think about. Right now, I need to return to the others and stop those dragons.”
“You will never get there before them.”
“I brought an emergency plan in case this failed.”
“Did you know your father would send dragons?”
“Honestly, I expected demons, so I’m rather thankful I was wrong.”
Dariana stuffs her arm into her bottomless pouch and pulls Delvin’s shield out. The large disc glints in the sunlight and hums when she straps it to her forearm. A steady warmth ebbs from the enchanted metal and the winged stag on the front flaps its wings as if trying to get away from the telepath. She can sense its magic rebel against her, the spell designed specifically for Delvin by using a mix of his and Nyx’s energy. The shield feels heavy on Dariana’s arm, which aggravates her injured shoulders. The searing pain makes her realize that the journey back to her friends will be difficult and could leave her too injured to save them. Her hair grows a single black stripe as she considers unleashing her full power, but the transformation stops out of fear of collapsing in the middle of battle.
“This no be easy,” Fizzle whispers as he wraps his tail around Dariana’s arm. He sniffs at the gaping wound in her shoulder, the aroma of magic wafting from the edges. “Friends not be happy. Fake dragons angry too. Dariana need help. Fizzle try. Still not full trust. How you get shield?�
�
“I never gave it back to Delvin. He’s been using a reinforced wooden buckler that I made him believe was the real one,” the telepath sheepishly replies. Running a finger along the edge of the shield, she lets the pang of guilt twist her stomach. “I tossed my pouch aside before awakening my father’s portal. All of it would have gone to Delvin once he tried to summon the real shield and my influence had disappeared. Aside from Isaiah getting in my way, I had a contingency plan for everything. Perhaps my destiny is more inflexible than I imagined. Follow along if you feel like fighting, old lizard. I want to come home, Nyx.”
Nearly wrenching Dariana’s arm out of its socket, the shield rockets into the sky and spins above the mountains. It takes a minute for the enchanted disc to locate Nyx’s aura and soar toward the mangrove swamp. The cliffs and rocky passes are a blur beneath the champion, who is trying to ignore the pain that is rippling along half of her body. A pointblank puff of rainbow smoke goes into her nostrils and eases her muscles, but it also makes the other side of her body tingle and itch. Against her better judgement, Dariana purges her body of Fizzle’s spell and turns off her pain receptors. She dreads the moment they are revived and punish her for still being alive, but she plans on that being long after the Weapon Dragons are destroyed. Craning her neck, the telepath is disappointed to find that Isaiah is not behind them. Hoping that he is merely invisible or went ahead, she scans for his thoughts only to find that the fireskin is back where she left him.
“Guess you made your choice, old lizard.”
*****
Dariana lands amid the crystal coffins with enough force to drive half of the shield into the root-covered ground. After slipping her arm free, the telepath checks to make sure all of her friends are healthy and at a point where they can be freed without damage. Stopping at Luke’s casket, she notices that he is standing with his weapons drawn and an anger-induced twitch is on his face. Starting with the forest tracker, she plucks the gems out of the top of each coffin and reabsorbs them into her body, which causes the oily lids to slough into the dirt. The boost of energy erases her bruises and reduces her pain, but she refuses to let it do anything to the more severe injuries. Limping to the central pillar of light, Dariana runs a finger through the middle and sends the stolen aura back into the champions. A thin strand remains in her hand, but she lets the scrap of her own energy dissipate along with the caskets. Backing away from the stirring adventurers, the telepath nervously waits for whatever comes next.
Only Timoran looks at Dariana, the rest paying more attention to each other or their own feet. Unwilling to peek inside their heads, the telepath worries that they are going to attack or walk away. She backs to the edge of the island at the sight of Nyx creating a fiery worm that squirms into the sky and explodes into a shower of sparks. Water lapping against the shore makes Dariana fear that Sari is about to strike from behind, so she whirls around and stumbles away. When she hears Delvin reclaim his shield, the telepath falls into the fetal position and covers her head in anticipation of a beating. The approaching threat of the Weapon Dragons is barely on her mind as she considers the fact that the champions might kill her before she can talk.
“Dariana not bad,” Fizzle declares while darting around the others. He lands on Timoran’s shoulder and frowns at how nobody will look in his direction. “Try kill Baron alone. Trap in portal sliver. Isaiah say possible. Plan fail. Now fake dragons come. No fight her. Need fight fake dragons.”
“I’d rather hear it from her, Fizzle,” Delvin says as he walks toward Dariana. At first it appears as if he plans to roughly yank the woman to her feet, but his expression softens before he crouches by her side. “I’m not going to lie and say I’ve forgiven you. Honestly, I can’t even say I trust you. The only reason we’re talking is because we saw your past. We know what happened with the other champions and how this life has been a nightmare for you. It still doesn’t explain why you betrayed us.”
“You realize she could be controlling Fizzle, right?” Luke states, ignoring the glare he receives from Timoran. Not wanting to be near the telepath, the forest tracker moves further away and keeps his saber at the ready. “She’s already messed with our heads. Not only with that fake future, but ever since we came here. Probably in Rodillen too. There’s no way we can trust her again. I mean . . . I just can’t do this. Too many people have stabbed me in the back and now she did it. If we need her then she can come along, but keep her away from me.”
“I’m kind of with Luke,” Nyx admits, wiping a few tears from her cheeks. Unable to face the telepath, she simply sits on the ground and stares at her hands. “No matter your reasons, this went too far. You gave us lives, Dariana, and then you took them away. Feels like torture and for what? I can’t even guess your reasoning here. Angry isn’t the right word, but I certainly don’t feel like we’re friends. Unlike my little brother, I’m willing to hear you out. Can’t make any promises it will change things. Anybody else want to weigh in before she speaks?”
Sari surprises the others when she marches over to Dariana and helps the trembling woman stand. “The other Dariana said our questions were already answered, so asking them again seems pointless. Besides, I think we forgot a part of the fake world. She turned on us and we killed her in the final battle. At first, I thought it was because she couldn’t put herself in there. Yet it wouldn’t be too hard for a fake Dariana to be in the dream. The plan to trap the Baron in whatever a portal sliver is would have killed you too. You never expected to see us again, did you? All of that was to give us a taste of what would be waiting for us when we woke up, right? A world where you’re dead and we’re alive.”
“Our injuries were to make it believable,” Timoran adds, nodding in agreement. Holding out his arm, the barbarian finds himself more appreciative of the limb. “I think it is time for you to tell us why. It may not earn you forgiveness, but it could be a step in the right direction. We still have the Spirit Well and your father ahead of us. That is something we cannot do without you by our side.”
Slipping from Sari’s grip, Dariana wanders along the edge of the island and seems poised to dive into the water. Hugging her injured ribs, she looks to the sky and senses that the Weapon Dragons are nearing the edge of Ralian. She is sure that these constructs are Nyder’s greatest creations since they are incredibly fast and have managed to travel such a distance without being spotted or attacked. Turning to her friends, she can see that they may not be strong enough to battle such an army. The temptation to remain silent and rush off to the fight is strong, but after the disaster of her plan, Dariana decides not to repeat her mistakes.
“I will be quick since danger that only I can face is coming,” she says before handing the Compass Key to Sari. The gypsy backs away with a yelp when the telepath faces her with eyes that change from a vibrant blue to an abyssal black. “Gabriel has always said that at least one champion will die in the final battle. This never concerned me until now because your predecessors were cruel to me. I’m not lying when I say that all of you became my friends. This is why I decided to use an old plan of betrayal to do the opposite. If I had been successful then my father and I would be trapped for eternity and the five of you would stay alive. It felt like the right thing to do since my fate was sealed long ago by my own actions. This might not make any sense to you, but I promise that I never intended for the Baron to capture you or claim the Compass Key.”
“You did this to save us?” Devlin asks, struggling to wrap his head around what has been said. He moves to draw his blade, but finds he is unable to pull the weapon free. “Are you stopping me? After everything you did to us? Stop making this worse for yourself, Dariana. If we’re really friends then you wouldn’t do this.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t really understand what friendship means or requires,” the telepath bluntly admits with a wry smile. The sound of mending bones is followed by a hacking cough that expels the blood that had collected in her lungs. “I’ve only known anger, hatred, and
fear in my life. Thank you for trying to teach me, but I seem to be a terrible student. Please put up a barrier around this island, Fizzle, and do not let it falter until the battle is over. I trust that the others will aide you if the situation worsens.”
“We still need you, so let me come along,” Nyx demands, growing a flaming blade from her palm. The mangrove roots rise to snare her ankles and refuse to burn when the half-elf slashes at them. “I can help against the Weapon Dragons. This mess shouldn’t end with you dying. Not saying we can go back to what we had before, but getting yourself killed doesn’t even give us a chance. I’m saying this as a champion, but how are we supposed to finish the prophecy without you?”
“All you have to do is find the Spirit Well and the rest will fall into place.”
“We need to fight together.”
“I’m sorry, but none of you trust me enough to let me stand by your side.”
“That isn’t your decision!”
“After the pain I caused you, Nyx, am I still considered a member of your family?”
The channeler stops struggling and averts her gaze, the question hanging in the air. A distant chorus of mechanical roars shakes the mangrove swamp and a powerful wind whips across the land, an effect from hundreds of wings flapping in unison. As the seconds tick by, tiny dots appear in the sky and eventually blot out the largest cloud in the sky. Like Delvin, the other champions find they are incapable of drawing their weapons or using any of their magic. When another roar erupts from the approaching monsters, Fizzle flies around the edge of the island and leaves a trail of smoke in his wake. The mist rises into a dome that solidifies into rainbow-colored glass, the only clear section facing the Weapon Dragons. Dariana leaps into the open frame, but stops and turns to the others with a half-hearted smile.
“I really am sorry for what I did. My good intentions aren’t an excuse,” the young woman says as her hair turns black. Cracking her knuckles and rolling her neck, she can feel all of the locks on her power opening. “Thank you for accepting me. I never did anything to earn your friendship, which might be why I never fully cherished it. Part of me wants to give each of you a separate apology, but you can see that I don’t have time. Good luck with my father.”
The Spirit Well Page 31
