The Spirit Well

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “More than likely, but I will be their main target. I can already feel them gnawing on my mind,” Dariana explains while she uses the wheel to remain standing. The device moves when she shifts her weight and the amber crystal releases a spark that burns her muddy cheek. “There is no guardian and I am the one responsible for destroying the balance here. Seeing these spirits, I remember everything that I did, but the reasons are a little fuzzy. If we can find a place to rest, I will explain my actions in more detail. All I can say now is that I broke this device. The crystals have been impaled into the wheels, the flames have been snuffed, and the chandelier boxes have been beaten to the point where they cannot move along the tracks. Perhaps I was keeping something inside or making sure adventurers couldn’t get in.”

  “And here we are without a gnome,” Nyx says with a wry smile. Seeing a flicker of movement to her left, she sends a burst of lightning to drive a spectral gnome away. “So you made it impossible to move forward. Maybe we can put the crystals back and force the chandeliers along the track.”

  “I sense that will take too long,” Timoran mentions, his ears picking up on faint thuds in the distance. Stepping away from his friends, the barbarian notices that while the ghosts have gotten closer, there are fewer of them than before. “The spirits are planning something. I suggest we head for the door and I will open it with my axe. Not the most ideal situation since the ghosts will be able to follow us, but it might be our only choice.”

  “I can try to pick the lock if it’s mechanical,” Sari offers, creating an array of icy tools on her fingers. The gypsy whirls around at the sound of rattling chains and sees one of the other chandeliers stretching toward them. “How about we race to the door and whoever gets there first will try to open it? Something really bad is about to happen and I want to already be running when it starts.”

  The champions freeze when a rectangular form awkwardly clops and thuds out of the gloom ahead. A large painting steps into view, the edges of its heavy frame resembling three-clawed feet. Human faces shift within the smeared paint and chatter their teeth before screaming in palpable misery. With the sound reaching an ear-wrenching pitch, the animated picture hops forward and is promptly incinerated by a fireball from Nyx. A chorus of enraged shrieks and fearful howls erupt as other possessed objects go on the attack and the visible ghosts attempt to surround the adventurers. Their ethereal touch numbs the skin and weakens the muscles, making it easier for the animated furniture to attack.

  With a roar, Luke lashes out and vaporizes several of the phantoms to carve a path through the crowd. Sprinting to the other side, he is met by a chandelier that swings down with flickering candles shaped like spectral rats. The half-elf slams his sabers into the rusty metal and watches as the ghosts are violently ejected. Pink magic is eating at their bodies as they writhe and twitch on the floor, the effect starting at their legs to prevent them from standing again. Worried that his friends are still in trouble, Luke spins around and dives back into the crowd, unaware that the others are running by him. The room spins as he takes several blows to the arms and head, but every specter that attacks is destroyed by the disruptive power flowing into his sabers. As his enemies back away, Luke turns to catch up to his friends, but stops when he becomes aware of a whirring noise. He notices the incoming shield a second too late and is struck in the side, which causes his enchanted ring to sputter and die. Before he can charge back into the fray, a hand on his back sends a surge of power through his veins and he lets Delvin guide him away from the ghosts.

  “Sari got to the door first and she needs us to fend these things off. It isn’t a traditional lock, so she’s doing something with ice to force it open or something,” the brown-haired warrior says as they duck a group of vases. Delvin gets his shield in front of Luke’s face to block a collection of forks and spoons, which ricochet into the shadows. “Feel free to use that ring again. We’re definitely going to need it here.”

  “I’m trying, but the damn thing has gone dormant again,” the half-elf states while angrily shaking his hand. He holds the wooden band to his face and frowns at how the leaves on top are starting to grow back. “It shouldn’t be changing to spring yet. Maybe I overused it or my focus broke at a point where it created a backlash. Run off ahead and let me try again. Just need to ignore all distractions.”

  Luke is about to stop when he is tackled to the ground by Fizzle, the drite tripping Delvin with his tail. An iron maiden soars a few inches overhead, its lid opening and closing to reveal the blood-caked spikes within. More instruments of torture appear from the gloom, including a rack that snags the two warriors by their ankles. The heavy table flips forward in order to smash the champions, but a compact disintegration beam from Fizzle leaves only the smoldering leg cuffs behind. The drite is about to ask if his friends are okay when Luke yanks him away from a cage that gets caught on a swinging chandelier.

  Sprinting toward their friends, the trio see that several animated suits of armor have the others surrounded. Pinned against the giant, metal door, Timoran and Dariana are doing their best to keep the ghosts at bay. Smashed breastplates and broken helmets bounce away while the phantoms inside escape to find new objects to possess. A lightning bolt passes between Luke and Delvin to destroy a wardrobe, Nyx waving for them to hurry before knocking a chandelier away with a beam of force. With faint creaks and groans, the door begins to crack around the edges due to Sari pumping ice into whatever gaps she can find. Seeing a space among the flailing armors, Luke and Delvin sprint through the possessed suits and lower their shoulders. They continue charging for the door in the hopes of delivering a final blow and putting a quick end to the fight. Using his shield, Delvin smashes through the brittle entrance while Luke bounces off and has to be helped out of the room by Fizzle.

  “Nice move, heroes. Timoran was supposed to make the hole,” Sari teases as she stands in the opening alongside Nyx. With everyone else through, the two casters prepare to unleash a flood of fire and ice into the chamber. “This won’t keep them away for long. With any luck, we destroy all the things out there that the ghosts can possess. Be nice if we can scare them off too, but our luck is never that good.”

  A wailing scream erupts from somewhere deep inside the Spirit Well, the sound shaking the entire hallway. The noise is so powerful that it shatters the doorway and collapses the chunks of wall that have been weakened. Yanked to safety by Dariana, Sari and Nyx stare at the smoking wreckage that they doubt will act as a deterrent for the ghosts. The champions stand ready for the inevitable fight, but nothing emerges from the fallen stone. Signaling for the others to stay where they are, Fizzle soars to an opening at the top of the broken wall and pokes his head into the room. He returns less than a minute later and scratches his head with his tail before flopping to the floor.

  “Ghosts no there,” the drite reports as he sniffs the ground. A foul stench causes him to snort and sneeze, a glob of black ooze splattering against the wall. “Bad magic here. Worse than ghosts. Old spirits waiting. Fizzle no like.”

  A cold gale whips down the hallway and the champions swear they see a woman in a white dress slip behind a tapestry. The decoration billows out when there is no wind, shifting as if getting momentarily stuck on an invisible object. Hearts pounding in their chests, the adventurers walk in the opposite direction. Feeling a presence at the edge of their senses, they move slowly with weapons drawn and spells at the ready. When a malicious cackling erupts from the leering gargoyles that line the walls, the champions break into a sprint and hurry to find a place to make a final stand.

  *****

  The star-shaped chamber is a dead end, but the unique combination of red brick and black granite draws the adventurers inside. Unlike the rest of the temple, this room is covered in cobwebs and thick layers of dust. Bones crunch beneath their boots, the fragile remains looking as if they have been drained of moisture. Tattered banners dangle in front of the five short hallways that connect to the central circle, each path running no mor
e than seven feet. At first, the champions think the offshoots end at a solid wall made from gray-colored wood. When they step into the entry, the barrier transforms into an ebony portal that is fringed with dripping, ivory ooze. The only difference between the gateways is the elemental core, which reveals the temple that is waiting on the other side. Too exhausted to continue running and fighting through the Spirit Well, the adventurers stand in the middle of the room to pass around supplies for binding wounds and restoring their energy.

  “Those ghosts keep coming,” Luke gasps after taking a long drink. Feeling dizzy, he sinks toward the floor and uses his sabers to avoid collapsing into the collection of bones. “And we haven’t even met what keeps shrieking and scaring them away. Guessing that’s the corrupted guardian. Is it really safe here?”

  “Wow. You’re talking to Dariana? Things must be worse than I realized,” Sari teases with a smirk. She winces at the pain in her face, a reminder of the animated goblet that hit her as she came around a corner. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist the poke. I wish you could heal me, Delvin. This hurts and I can barely see out of my left eye. I swear, you’ll get smacked if you suggest cutting it again, Wrath. Nobody is taking a knife to my face.”

  “I’ll do it if you really want, but we’ve seen how quickly the ghosts react to me flaring up or whatever you want to call what I do,” Delvin says before trying to swallow a bite of hard, salt-covered jerky. With a sigh of frustration, he goes down one of the short paths and notices that the ooze is inside the corrupted portal instead of on top. “Think it’s time you explained what’s going on here, Dariana. If I had to guess, I’d say the corruption from the Spirit Well is infecting the other temples. Does that mean this place is still a threat?”

  “Not with the other guardians revived and all of you alive,” Dariana answers, approaching the portal that has a core of ice. Reaching for the central orb, she pulls away when the serpentine ooze stretches for her fingers. “I killed the guardian of the Spirit Well and used its absence to draw in more spirits. Their presence created a corruptive force that I used to infect the teleportation portals, which acted like backdoors that nobody paid attention to until it was too late. After all, why check the gateways when you don’t have champions to use them? My actions created a gradual decay that could be taken advantage of by my father’s agents or any malevolent creature that found a way inside. The situation has changed since all of you are alive and have claimed your temples. Now, the corruption is being repelled before it reaches the other side of the portal. Though if you die and the guardians grow weak then things will start to fall apart again.”

  “A dead guardian explains a lot. Though I would have expected a replacement like at Aintaranurh,” Nyx admits before taking a long drink. She hacks and coughs, the taste of brackish water refusing to leave her mouth. “Then again, that might have been a fluke. The other guardians were always contained, corrupted, or physically dead. Not really sure how to explain the Akota since it wasn’t really alive. My point is that none of them were replaced. Maybe we should . . . Behind you, Luke!”

  Crimson claws send bone shards flying and leave deep scratches in the stone as the forest tracker leaps away. The rest of the phantom emerges from the wall, her talons retracting back into her dainty hands. Ebony hair weaves in the air as the woman rocks from side to side and fearfully eyes the champions. Wearing a lacey wedding dress, the ghost is different than the others in that her body is not translucent. Parting the veil over her face, the woman unleashes a mournful sigh that is both beautiful and blood-chilling. Sizzling tears are flowing from her white eyes and she opens her mouth wide enough to swallow a grown man’s head. The phantom’s chest inflates as she sucks in enough air to make the mortals slightly dizzy.

  Dariana catches a flickering vision of what the creature is about to do and realizes that it is aiming at Timoran and Luke. Noticing that the warriors are near the doorway, she has them step closer together before she charges. Urging the others to cover their ears, the desperate woman sends a pulse of strength through her muscles. Dariana tackles her friends into the hallway at the same moment the phantom shrieks loud enough to leave furrows along the walls. Even when out of the creature’s full range, the two warriors find their sensitive ears bleeding. Timoran drags himself to his feet while Luke remains on his back, the mild shock making him confused on which way is up.

  “It’s a banshee!” Dariana shouts, her ears ringing. Deciding it is for his own good, she puts her fingers to Luke’s head and erases his lingering confusion. “They’re a rare type of ghost that attacks with screams. The more sensitive your ears, the more likely she can kill you with a full blast. Myself and the others are fine since we have average hearing, but you two are in a lot of danger. Just stay out here because the room is too small for you to be stay safe.”

  “We only have to avoid the blasts,” Luke states before shouldering by the telepath. He is yanked back by his collar as the ground at his feet is dented by another scream. “You can’t force us to stay out of the fight. Our friends need us.”

  “We would be a hindrance, my friend. It knows we are the most vulnerable,” Timoran points out, his great axe covered in orange energy. He catches a glimpse of the banshee preparing an attack and tackles the shorter warrior away from rippling the blast. “I believe it also knows that the two of us are the most dangerous. Our rings give us the ability to destroy ghosts. I do not like having to hide, but we must do so until we see an opening.”

  “I’ll try to give you one,” Dariana promises, hurrying back into the room. The others still have their hands over their ears while dodging the creature, so she lets them relax. “Sorry about that. This is a banshee. Timoran and Luke are susceptible to its power, so they needed to be removed from danger.”

  Delvin chuckles as he takes a swing at the phantom, but his sword harmlessly passes through her neck. “Where was this thing before we had to get into Sari’s temple? Would have made that riddle a lot easier. Not sure what this has to do with sirens though.”

  “Banshees are the spirits of murdered sirens,” the telepath replies as she pounces on the ghost. She briefly catches it by the shoulders before falling to the floor. A point blank scream is about to hit her when a gust of wind knocks Dariana against the wall. “If this creature doesn’t kill us then our violent rescues will do the job. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if there is a special way to defeat it.”

  “I’m going to repeat that I don’t have anything up my sleeve to handle ghosts,” Sari says while making faces at the banshee. The creature darts forward to make a single slash that narrowly misses the ducking gypsy. “Well, it has feelings to hurt. Can we insult the thing back to the afterlife?”

  With a guttural growl, the banshee dives under the floor and leaves the champions in a suffocating silence. It takes a precious second for them to realize that their enemy has absorbed all of the noise from the room. Fizzle is the first to move when he turns in time to see the points of the creature’s claws coming through the ceiling. The drite dives toward the floor, but the phantom remains in hiding. Delvin signals for everyone to go back to back, the warrior partnering with Dariana since she is closest. His eyes go wide when he watches the banshee rise behind Nyx and drive Sari away with an upward slash that nicks the gypsy’s arm. Deaf and unaware of the danger, the channeler unwittingly backs toward the deadly ghost until their bodies touch. The brief contact is enough of a warning to create a shield spell in time to block a lethal scream. Everyone is driven to their knees by the unexpected burst of noise, which bounces off Nyx’s barrier and punches a hole in the ceiling.

  The banshee moans and flies around the room, her undead body impervious to physical attacks. Whenever Nyx or Sari unleash a spell, the creature shrieks and disappears into the nearest solid surface. She always reappears behind whoever makes a noise first, making the adventurers think the banshee is tracking them by sound. Dariana attempts to touch its mind, but discovers that the ghost can emit a brain-scrambling yell along the co
nnection. As she falls to the floor, the telepath hurls her body forward to avoid a sneak attack that never comes. She sees the banshee coming from above and is tackled to safety by Delvin, the phantom’s claws grazing the back of his head. The warrior is still alive and conscious, but the cold pain engulfing his skull makes it impossible for him stand. Dariana puts him on her back and rapidly leaps away from the banshee’s assault, the ghost wanting to finish off her crippled enemy. Nyx and Sari do their best to call for the ghost’s attention with shouts and spells, but the woman in white has become obsessed with the easy kill.

  A distant roar is heard before the hall-side wall explodes and reveals Timoran with his great axe embedded in a chunk of rock. The banshee immediately moves toward the new threat while keeping her eye on the orange energy wafting off the weapon. With her chest puffed out and mouth wide open, the phantom floats away from an incoming blow and prepares to unleash a scream. She is so focused on Timoran that she only notices Luke sprinting through the doorway at the last second. The half-elf’s pink-coated sabers slice through the banshee’s chest as she turns and presses her mouth to his ear. The warrior only catches the beginning of the horrifying shriek, his hearing abruptly getting turned off by Dariana. The force of the blast is enough to drive him into the floor and leaves gashes around his body. He is barely conscious when the banshee groans, holds her stomach, and bursts in a puff of noise.

  “He’s alive, but she made enough contact to cause extensive damage,” Dariana states, dragging Delvin to the forest tracker’s side. Even though she senses anger at her intrusion, she returns Luke’s hearing and dulls the pain coursing through his body. “I helped him avoid the part that would kill him instantly, but he needs you to heal him. The rest of us can handle the ghosts when they swarm.”