Spire's Spite

Fritz stood there at the precipice, just by the Stairway down to the Sunken Spire’s exit, and he sulked in his most stoic, dignified manner.

Sid had left them behind, and although Fritz knew that this was her way forward, her Path, it still filled him with furious melancholy. Why now when things were good between us? Why does this always happen to me? Am I Cursed? He complained inwardly, allowing himself some time to be petulantly self-pitying.

He could still see her in his mind's eye, her bright blue eyes her, short blonde hair, tall with whipcord muscle that was slowly being covered over and accentuated with soft curves.

Bert slapped him on the back, breaking Fritz out of his bitter recriminations of himself, Sid and the world at large.

“Plenty of fish in the barrel!” Bert said jovially, whipping his head around and letting his golden mane fall where it may. He met Fritz's eyes with his own wild amber gaze, there was a note of sympathy in them but they also impressed on him the need to get his thoughts in order and get back to important things, like hiding their well earned loot so it couldn’t be stolen.

Fritz stood there for a moment longer, still gripping the leather cover of ‘The Observations,’ holding precious the small journal-like Technique book to his chest like a fond memory. Then he turned his mind to the job at hand, the plans that needed to be made and the schemes left to weave. He wiped away a tear, then ran his hand through his short dark hair and spun on his heel facing the Well Room again.

“I guess we get the rest,” Fritz observed, looking over the Treasures, the headless Hound corpse and their chests of gold. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to hide it all, not with what I’ve got planned.”

“So where we gonna hide the Treasures?” Bert eventually asked, stretching his ever expanding and now quite prodigious musculature absentmindedly.

“Well, if I were them I’d dredge around the Spire after groups had resurfaced, just in case they dump their Treasures. So we can’t just leave it at the bottom of the lake,” Fritz theorised.

Bert nodded along agreeing with the assessment.

“So we have to hide it where they won't think to look,” Fritz espoused.

“Which is?” Bert asked, a keen interest writ plain across his face.

“I’ll get to that later, first we should separate what we’re taking with us and what we’re hiding. Oh, and we’ll have to wrap it up, make it as waterproof as possible. We should also put the Technique books in the chests,” Fritz explained as he opened his own Golden Climb chest, thankful that it hadn’t disappeared like the other Treasure chests had.

“Why do I get the feeling that this scheme is both dumb and dangerous?” Bert said grinning.

Fritz returned the grin, a fae light gleaming in his green and now mottled-purple eyes, and said, “Because, my friend, you know me too well.”

---

Sid stood before the rippling plane of water set within the Door’s frame that was held there by the Spire’s magics. Through it she could see an anchor and the rope leading up to the rowboat. The way up was just a few yards beyond the Door. She prepared for the freezing water and the thankfully short swim or more likely walk with her new moonsilver laced bones and she checked her gear one last time.

Sid had her cloak, her fin blade and a slowly dimming crystal baton. Her bow was unstrung and her quiver hung off her hip. She quickly tightened the bindings and checked the taut white-scaled belt around her chest was still firmly, painfully, in place. With a glance made sure that all the sewn holes in her ragged shirt were closed. Don’t want to give my self away by accidentally showing off the treasure holding in my ti- chest, she thought.

When all was checked and made ready, Sid took in a large breath and strode into the wall of water. Immediately the cold set in as her clothes were soaked through in a moment. It was painful and her muscles seized for a second before she pushed through the lake's icy grasp. Even if it was freezing it was nowhere near as bad as her time in the cave, where that terrible blizzard raged over them and almost froze them solid.

Setting her legs to move she strode through the water, she noted it was not nearly as difficult to push through the lake’s depths as before. But I didn't have Strength then, she reminded herself.

She easily reached the anchor and the thick connecting rope, then spotted a glinting in the distance.

One of those bloody fish Fritz was boasting about wrestling into the Sunken Spire, Sid recollected while gripping the rope in front of her. She seized it with both hands and moved the small chest tied to her so she could more comfortably climb. She lifted her heavily burdened body, wrapped her legs around the coarse rope and pulled herself up.

There was some wobbling down the thick line and Sid hoped that the boat above was stable enough that it wouldn’t be tipped over and capsized by the weight of the gold in the chest she had bound to her.

With her enhanced strength it was an easy climb, what wasn’t easy was the lack of air and the dulling cold. One last test, to weed out the lucky or the unleveled she supposed. Breaking the lake's surface and taking in a salty breath, Sid gasped the wooden edge and threw herself over into the surprisingly roomy and stable boat.

Panting and puffing she lay there, she shivered and cursed before seeing an open crate containing a small number of clay flasks. They stank like the hold-your-breath potion had been forced drink before they had jumped into the lake. With a cold quaking hand she grasped one of them, unsealed it and forced down its putrid contents without gagging.

Sid pulled in a deep breath, just like they were told to before. It was slow to work but after about a thirty seconds of violent shivers, she felt her lungs become hot and the heat spread through her body quieting her trembling. She stared up at the enormous dome roof as she waited for the tremors to stop completely and noted the smooth stone looked familiar for some reason, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

Once she had control of her body again she unslung her pack and chest, placing them safely in the centre of the rowboat. Sid stood and balanced, then sat down upon one of the boat's benches. She pulled in the anchor with some effort, grunting and grumbling from heaving the heavy object into the vessel, then she seized the worn oars and began to row.

Sid was out of practise, but it didn’t show with her newly enhanced Attributes. She silently wished the vessel had a sail so she could use her wind Abilities to propel it instead of her tiring arms, but continued on stoically. It had been some time since she had rowed. It was common for the orphans and other struggling children in the gutters to take up work as rower, just one of the few odd jobs anyone with a working body could do. Taking people over the often flooded streets and being paid in copper bits far below what a real rower could make.

Which was what people expected, you paid for speed not just getting you there. You didn’t take the child-manned boats because you wanted to get somewhere fast, no, you took it because you were cheap or desperate.

Sid growled remembering the cruel men who owned the boats, took half of what you were paid and sent you away with bruises or broken bones when you complained. Like all thugs in the Sunken Ring, those men worked for the gangs and therefore worked for the Nightshark. Someone she needed to meet, needed to impress to get her way, to be allowed to take a territory she could call her own. Somewhere the young and starving could come for sanctuary and protection from the predators and vermin who roamed the streets and hunted the gutters.

Sid grunted, pulling and pushing on the oars. She rowed towards the cliff settling into a steady rhythm and within minutes, far more rapidly than she had expected, she was there, right in front of the small stony outcropping.

A man with dark, lank greasy hair wearing a brown oilcoat stood before her, searching her face and bearing. Sid worried that he might notice her, frankly annoying, larger chest and hips even if she had covered and bound them as tight as she could. He glanced away, his gaze darting to her pile of loot, his eyes going wide at the sight of the polished wooden chest. Then he looked back at her with some amount of incredulity and then a grim respect.

He nodded once and in a gruff voice said, “Get that stuff up here, I’m gonna get Nic. He’ll want to see this. Abyss, maybe his boss would also like to see this.”

Sid nodded and put on her roughest voice and her angriest scowl and replied, “Good, I want to see them too.”

Jagged Nic didn’t take long to appear, skin scarred, his hair shaved close and clad in his long brown oilcoat. He strode to the cliff’s edge with long steps, searched the contents of the boat with a look then stared down at Sid for a long moment. Judging her with grey eyes, dark as lead.

Sid felt her body tense, her legs wanted to move, but she clenched her fists and jaw and returned the stare with a steady glare of her own.

Surprisingly, Nic smiled, his notched features making the expression look painful and dangerous then he grumbled out excitedly, “We’ll skip the shakedown, What’s yer name?”

“I’m Sid,” She stated, putting on the roughest voice she could manage as she was a little out of practise.

“Well, ‘Sid’, the Nightshark will want to see you, right quick they would. Golden climb and all, solo as well. I’ve never seen the like,” Nic praised.

“Kev help Sid with his stuff, we’ve got a bit of a walk. And none of it is to go missing, mind you,” Nic ordered.

Kev stared stupidly for a second before Nic yelled,“Get to it, you laggard!”

Sid smiled inwardly but didn’t let it show on her face as she hauled herself, and her golden climb chest up and onto the cliff with a small grunt of effort.

“This way,” Nic said, striding away leading her onwards.

I’m over the first wall, she thought.

It was a nerve wracking test of her composure but she knew the ordeal wasn’t over, not by even a little bit. There was a far more dangerous person to talk to, to convince that she was worth trusting. Fear fluttered in her heart and she squashed it.

Sid strode onward, determined to face her fate and the Nightshark.

---

Fritz had just finished explaining his plan, in exacting detail, to his blood brother.

“That’s idiotic,” Bert said.

Fritz nodded in agreement.

“Only a moron could ever think such a thing would work,” Bert added.

Fritz didn’t challenge his words, only giving his friend a bland smirk and sly wink.

“I’m in,” Bert madly grinned.

Then, they got to work.

-

Fritz hefted his soaked body into the boat, out from the icy water, shivering and cursing the whole time. The constant sounds of sloshing and the eerie gleam of the waves barely distracted him. He rapidly dropped Quicksilver and reached for the potion he had seen Sid drink only a day or two ago. He forced down the vile sludge-like liquid and grabbed another to throw to Bert when he appeared.

The fire built in his chest and coursed through his limbs, filling them with warmth. Fritz made sure not to sigh in relief lest the potion's effects fade. Fritz pretended to row the boat badly, turning it so no one standing on the cliff could see Bert’s head bubble up from the depths.

Fritz made a show of yelling and struggling with the anchor while surreptitiously throwing the potion to his friend still in the water. He played off the motion as warding his eyes from the bright blue-green light pouring out from the Spire’s peak above them.

Bert caught the clay flask and he drank it down quickly, grimacing then pulling in a huge breath and diving below the roiling waves once again.

First stage done, now I just have to stall a little, Fritz thought.

He kept up his performance of pulling in the anchor and failing due to his exhausted arms. It wasn’t all an act, the rope had been surprisingly hard to climb with his new weight, even with his enhanced Strength.

The three points helped but it's honestly not that much of a difference, yet. I’ll have to take Bert’s advice and put some flesh on these moonsilvered bones, he mused as he waited for his friend’s reappearance.

The plan would place most of the risk on Bert, Fritz of course had volunteered but Bert would have

none of it. What with his Vitality, Endurance, Strength and Potent Blood, Fritz’s friend was far more cut out for the role than he was, so he begrudgingly allowed him to do it instead.

It wasn’t as if Fritz was doing nothing though, making sure the watcher on the cliffs was paying attention to him would prevent their scheme, and therefore their hidden loot, from being discovered.

“Spire’s Spite, why are you so heavy!?” Fritz wailed. “Bert hold on! I’m pulling you up! Just hold on!” He yelled, pouring desperation into his voice.

Fritz saw activity on the cliff, the man in the oilcoat approached the water and peered out over the lake at Fritz as he displayed his false flailing frustrations. In a moment of recognition, Fritz nearly dropped his performance, pulled free his bone dagger and threw it over the waves and at the greasy, lank-haired man.

Kev, the bastard that tied my laces, Fritz seethed as he restrained himself. There’s no way I could throw that far anyway, keep calm and gut the prick later, he reasoned letting out a sigh and some of the anger with it while reaffirming his plan to bide his time.

After a couple more minutes of wasting time, Fritz began to get worried for Bert, he should have surfaced or sent a message already. Kev swept his arm overhead, signalling Fritz, who replied back waving his arms as if in distress. He could see the man get visibly annoyed then take off his boots and coat. Kev dived into the lake, then sprang up out of the roiling water, swimming towards the boat.

He had been quick too, able to easily swim to the vessel within a couple of minutes.

“Well that’s bad,” Fritz mumbled and pretended to look pleased as the thug pulled himself into the boat.

“Bert’s still down there, can you check for him?” Fritz quickly blurted out before Kev could speak. The thug shook his soaked, dark hair out of his face then looked at him confused, as if surprised to see Fritz still alive.

“Gods above, I hope I’m not being haunted. Especially by bloody Fritz. That would be a curse and a half, true as the rain,” Kev’s croaky voice groused.

“Please, Bert’s still down there, he’s carrying most of the Treasure,” Fritz begged.

At the mention of Treasure Kev strode over to the anchor’s rope, grasping it and pulling it up as easily as if it weren’t weighted at the end at all.

Damn. He’s strong, maybe stronger than Bert, Fritz realised as he contemplated stabbing Kev in the back right then and there. Hold on, nothing suspicious, don’t want them to suspect anything… fishy. And you don’t want them to know your true level, a dead Kev might just alert them that something's not quite right with our story.

Kev let out a grunt as the rope seemed to resist or get heavier. Fritz almost let out a huff of relief but held it back as the man heaved on the rope and pulled out a sputtering, shivering Bert hanging onto the rope as if for dear life. Fritz made to help pull him in, but he needn’t have as Kev dumped Bert’s overburdened body into the centre of the boat. Quickly moving over to his friend he took the empty clay flask out from Bert’s vest pocket and pretended to have him drink it.

Bert's tremors almost immediately stopped, and Fritz risked a whisper, “Too quick.”

“Brrr,” Bert said and started trembling again. The act was terrible by Fritz’s standards but it seemed not to matter as Kev wasn’t paying too much attention to the two of them and was instead looking at all the gear they brought into the boat.

“What’s with the… tusks?” Kev asked in a croak while looking over the two huge, curved, green, glass bull horns.

“They’re horns,” Fritz explained trying his best to look meek and fearful. “Broke them off a statue on the second floor.”

“Why?” Kev ground out, bewildered.

“’Cause they look fearsome,” Bert espoused as he slid onto a bench and sat ringing the water from his drowned locks of golden hair.

“You almost drowned because of them!” Fritz berated. “I told you we should’ve left them behind.”

“And I told you that we needed to bring something good out with us or we’d be beaten or tossed back in,” Bert replied. “Not like we found anything else that was valuable.”

Kev looked between the two as they bickered then raised a hand shouting, “Enough! Shut up the both of yous.”

“We can chat about 'valuables' when we get to the cliff, oh, and Nic will want to see yah,” Kev explained wearily.

“Jagged Nic?” Fritz asked injecting a small quaver into his words “What would he want with us?”

“He chats to all the new Levelers and Pathers,” Kev said spitting over the boat's edge. “Separates the riff from the raff,” He added with a chuckle at his own meaningless witticism.

“Which one is the good one?” Bert asked.

“The one that don’t ask questions,” Kev warned.

Heeding the man's gruff words Bert and Fritz settled into silence until the thug looked at them like they were stupid and shouted, “What are you waiting for? Get to rowin’!”

They glanced at each other and got to it, each taking an oar and straining at the task. Honestly, the rowing was easy but they had to make it look harder than it was to make their deception more believable.

Bert had wanted to present themselves as Pathers for all the perks they seemed to get. Such as a gang and hide out of their own. But eventually, with much persuasive reasoning from Fritz, they had settled on acting weak enough not to warrant too much watching. Which meant pretending to be Levelers.

Fritz knew it’d be a slog and they would be looked down upon but he was used to that already and the less people knew about their Abilities the better. With an exaggerated grunt, Fritz pulled the oar again and signalled Bert about the success of their other plan. His friend signalled back in the affirmative and he had to cough to stop himself from smiling and laughing.

The boat rocked as they traversed the lake’s waves, and Kev started to root through the bags and pouches, looking for any Treasures or gold they may have brought with them. He was probably trying to pocket something for himself before anyone else got the chance to do so.

It took all of Fritz’s Control not to smirk as the man found only monster meat, wrecked scale armour, some odds and ends like the shards of quartz snail-shell that Bert inexplicably had in his pack, the blight hound fangs from the very first floor and one of their now dull amber glowstones. That and the green glass horns.

“Ouch!” Kev said scowling at a cut he took from Quicksilver as he went to inspect Fritz’s trusty weapon. “What is this even s'posed to be?” He grumbled nudging the jagged black blade away with the tip of his boot.

“Fritz’s Fishblade,” Bert said.

“Quicksilver,” Fritz espoused frowning at his friend.

“It’s not silver,” Kev observed.

“No, it’s not,” Fritz conceded, knowing the man wouldn’t care about its storied past and great sacrifice as it was melted, nay tempered, by Eldritch Flame.

The blade had turned a glossy black save the one-inch wide line down its centre. That core had remained silvery and opaline, scattered with flecks of many colours. Though it couldn’t quite be seen it also had a branching crack running right through its middle in shades of blue-green, the same shade as the Sunken Spire’s great burning beacon.

With a grunt, the man continued to what really interested him, “What's with all the… monster parts? Did you not find any Treasures at all?”

“Quicksilver is a Treasure!” Fritz proclaimed offended.

“Yeah, yeah, but it’s not,” Kev said harshly.

“It is to me,” Fritz grumbled.

Kev looked Fritz and Bert up and down, seeing their ragged, torn clothes and eyeing Bert’s slightly bulging pockets.

“Or maybe all the good stuff is in your pockets?” Kev seemed to mumble to himself. “Guess we’ll see in the pat down,” He continued in a louder voice.

“Pat down?” Fritz asked, they hadn’t watched Sid go through a ‘pat down’ from the Spire’s window-wall.

“Almost there, put your backs into it!” Kev ordered ignoring the question.

They both groaned which earned them a jarring smack to the head each. Fritz wondered if he should feign being knocked out then and there, but decided against it. It would go against the plan. Complaining, Fritz used the opportunity to have Bert palm off his amulet to him.

In what seemed like no time at all the boat was beside the cliff and Kev shouted at them to haul their loot out and in a pile in the centre of the outcropping. They complied, huffing and puffing as Kev watched them like a storm hawk, which made Fritz’s job a lot harder.

Still, with a little bit of clever misdirection, it wouldn’t be all that hard. He called upon his Dusksong. The slinking unreality powered his Ability’s activation and he moulded it into the shape he desired.

“Is that a blade squid?!” Fritz cried out pointing at an Illusory Shadow he had just cast under the roiling waves. It more resembled an oval of pitch black than a sleek squid, but as it was obscured by the water it looked close enough to be one of the lake's sharp, scintillating denizens.

Kev looked at where he pointed and squinted which gave Fritz the time to use another of his Abilities, Stone Pit. He aimed it on the cliff face, shaping it to be as narrow and unnoticeable as possible and he was able to create a smooth hole in an instant. He followed it up with another, then one on more, creating a hole at least four, maybe five feet deep in the stone's surface. It drained his reserves quickly as he couldn’t use his Dusksong’s Mana with Stone Pit, as they were just too differently aligned for the energies to be compatible.

The opening was still worryingly large at about a foot across but he couldn’t worry about that now. Fritz quickly dumped his dagger, his barrier ring, Bert’s amulet and their small, but filled to bursting pouch of gold triads into the hole. Then he stuffed it with some washed-out grey rags in order to hide it from cursory glances. Staggering a little from the Stamina use, Fritz stepped back quickly and promptly tripped on a bench falling and flailing into Kev.

If Fritz had been worried about knocking the thug over, he needn’t have been, he was like a statue, unyielding and solid even with the rocking gait of the boat. Kev caught Fritz before he tipped over the side and scowled at him.

“Maybe I should feed you to the blade squid, teach you a lesson for being so bloody weak you can’t even unload a boat,” Kev growled. “But it looks like it’s your lucky night and the squid's gone.”

“Lucky night indeed,” A voice like tarred gravel called out. “I thought I heard a racket, and look what we have. The two little lunatics who tried to fight me. I hope you learnt something in the Spire otherwise you’re both in for a hard time.”

Jagged Nic in all his scarred glory strode out from a doorway, clad in his brown oilcoat and he turned his hard, dark eyes on them.

Fritz gulped.