Spire's Spite

Fritz didn’t know how long he was asleep, but no one had come looking for him yet so it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. He looked around, his eyes a bit blurry at first. When they cleared, he was fully able to see the room cast in the swirling orange light of the amber stone.

His body ached from the fight before and the goblin's spear was still lodged in his left arm, he tried pulling the shaft free but it was agony pulling the thing even an inch out. He decided to leave it there for someone else, probably Jane, to take care of later.

He watched the room and noted what he had missed before, a multitude of makeshift spears, a set of finger-sized holes in the opposite wall that looked onto a dark tunnel much like the one the crew had entered through. Peepholes? Fritz guessed. So the goblins will be in the walls spying on us and following our movements. Better be careful about camp watches then.

His gaze however was inevitably drawn to the torso-sized chest next to the goblin nest. Its bronze bands reflecting the orange glow of the amber stone making it appear like flowing gold. He crawled toward it on his hands and knees and placed a hand on its lid. It was cool and vibrated slightly at his touch, he had to will his hand away to stop himself from opening it there and then.

He knew from his father that you should open a Treasure chest with your climbing team, that the treasures had a way of being Spire tailored for the group that opened it.

There were also a myriad of cautionary tales of ‘Treasure Hoarders’ being punished by the Spire’s Spite, as well as by their teams when they inevitably found out you opened a chest without them. Though that often didn't stop some of the less scrupulous scouts or Guides from claiming them anyway, not that they’d tell anyone that of course.

He was sorely tempted to open it right here and now, less people meant better treasure after all. No one would know, right? Bert would know. Fritz sighed and attempted to lift the chest. To his surprise he succeeded it was much lighter than he expected. He hauled it up under his uninjured arm that was also holding the fish blade, it took a bit of juggling but the amber light was set firmly in his speared left arm and he crept back the way he came.

The journey back was uneventful. Luckily there were no goblins lying in wait, ready to ambush him, as he worried might be the case. Fritz's feet were dragging and his legs wobbled despite the light weight of the chest. Sweat soaked his brow and shirt, turning it almost clear as it stuck to him save for where it had been stained with goblin filth.

He was beaten, bloody, bruised and had several cuts, they were stinging burning lines that he endured whole the tortuous slog. Finally, he made it back to the spike pit and called out to his crew melodramatically

“I Sir Fritz, have returned and have brought with me a Treasure Chest! But tragically I was mortally wounded on my quest! I am currently dying, valiantly!”

“Fritz, can you climb up?” Bert asked unsympathetically from the chamber above.

“Nay, I am dying!” Fritz yelled back, slumping then lying down in exhaustion at the base of the wall, just under the handholds he had created prior.

Bert’s head appeared over the edge, his face one of annoyance until he saw the extent of Fritz's injuries. He went pale and his frown disappeared, replaced with an expression of deep worry.

Fritz knew the wounds looked worse than they actually were, especially since they had a level now, but they still looked bad from Bert’s vantage point. Serves him right for doubting my words again! A tiny petty voice said in his head. It was the last thing Fritz remembered thinking while in the spike pit. The world went heavy and blackness engulfed him.

---

Sid watched as Bert hurried to get himself down into the pit using Fritz’s handholds, trying to reach his friend’s limp body. What was with Fritz and his seemingly simple scouting missions that always caused him to bring back either monsters or new wounds.

He’s just really good at getting into trouble, Toby was right about him digging his own grave, Sid thought. But why did Vee, Lynn and Naomi listen to him and not me when I tried to convince them to climb higher?

Sid grimaced then glanced at Vee and the girls. Vee noticed and looked back quizzically, “What’s wrong Sid? Not like you to be so grumpy,” She asked gently.

“Hmph,” Sid attempted to grunt, she hadn't quite got the roughness down quite right, but no one had commented on that, yet.

She adjusted her chest bindings, they felt were getting tighter and more restrictive by the hour. Must be the monster meat, they haven’t quite noticed yet but their starving thin frames were starting to fill out, packing on weight, muscle and, in Sid’s case, curves.

She sighed wondering how much longer she could keep up the ruse. Vee, Lynn and Naomi knew of course, but they weren’t likely to slip up. They hadn’t done so in the many years they knew each other. She didn’t know where she stood in Fritz and Bert’s crew though.

Sid suspected that Jane had suspicions as she wouldn’t leave her alone with Toby, but that might just be them being attached at the hip.

She’d originally kept the disguise out of safety having seen far too many young girls like herself be preyed upon, and fearing she’d be next, she’d heeded the advice of Tallie. The tavern owner had warned her “If you don’t want to work here under my roof, best you keep letting people think you’re a young lad. And stay clear of others 'cause you never know who would sell you for a couple of copper corners.”

Sid had followed the advice even going so far as to changing her name, and taking on her ‘odd jobs’ alone, it was lonely but sometimes she’d visit Tallies Trawler to check up on the other girls, and make sure they were alright. They had to stick together, or they’d be picked off.

Eventually, it would come to a head and what did it really matter in a Spire if people found out Sid was a woman? Especially if she intended to climb to the very top, those skulg-scum predators in the Sunken Ring wouldn’t try to take a Pather or incite her wrath. They were cowards through and through, preying on the weak and the vulnerable, and when she got back to the Sunken Ring she’d put a stop to them.

With a bit of Power the tides would change she could find their nests and burn them out like the vermin they were.

“Sid, are you okay? You look angry,” Vee’s calming voice interrupted Sid’s furious thoughts.

“Sorry, just got caught up in my own head again, just wondering why you listened to him-” Sid motioned her arm towards the limp Fritz being carried upon Bert’s back as he climbed slowly and carefully back to the top of the chamber and the anxious looking Jane. "-over me? What’s he got that I don't have?” Even to her own ears, she knew she sounded petulant.

“I mean apart from the obvious?” Sid amended at Vee’s raised eyebrow and wicked smirk.

“Well, you know his reputation as a burglar of some derring-do? Lord Whiteship’s Vault? The Aviary Assault? The day of free sweet bread?” Vee listed off the ridiculous gossip and tall-tales as accomplishments and fact.

“That’s all exaggeration and baseless rumour, even if people say he did those things, I very much doubt it. He’s never got past me for one,” Sid argued, sure she had heard these tall tales but didn’t believe even a little bit of them.

Vee smiled that pretty smile of hers, “Even if only a third of things people gossip about Fritz are true, he should be dead six times over. But he’s not, he survives where he shouldn’t, a Guide’s son, exiled from an orphanage and thrown to the streets. He should've been dead within the week, floating down the gutters. Yet here he is, leading a crew of some of the most skilled thieves and burglars of this generation. Well that's what Tallie says, she’s been around a while and she’s got her finger on the pulse of the underground,” Vee explained amiably.

“Fritz doesn’t lead the crew Al does,” Sid countered scowling.

“Oh, please, Fritz and Albert are as thick as, well, thieves. They’re basically brothers and Al listens to Fritz,” Vee said dismissively.

“Hmph,” Sid reiterated, this time more deep and gruff.

Not to be deterred, Vee continued, “So if he says he can help us get a Path, I believe it's fine to gamble on him, one thing that is known for sure of him is that he keeps his promises,” Vee’s face had taken on a hardness, a determination to get through this climb and to not doubt her choice. Lynn nodded along, agreeing with her, but she always sided with Vee anyway.

“It doesn’t hurt that he’s quite dashing,” Naomi added unexpectedly, a note of mirth in her clear voice.

“He’s okay,” Sid agreed, watching Bert lay Fritz down in front of Jane who immediately cut away his shirt sleeve to get to the spear lodged in his left arm.

“Bert, I mean Al, hold down his arm, Greg get over here and pull this spear out, now!” Jane ordered her voice firm. Bert and Greg complied quickly, and with a sucking pop the spear was removed and cast aside, the hole bled freely into a dark red pool below Fritz’s arm.

“What's that smell? Spires, Fritz reeks, did he roll in squid guts down there or something?” Greg growled holding his nose.

“Shush, Greg, and help me wash this stuff off him, and clean his wounds out,” Jane explained hurriedly, pulling forth her water skin and a spare rag. They joined her efforts copying her actions.

After they had cleaned most of the filth off of Fritz, Jane held her right hand to the hole in his upper arm, she seemed to focus and then her eyes pulsed a pale green.

An ethereal silver-green thread slithered from one edge of the wound to the other then constricted like a snake squeezing its prey, closing the wound. The thread pulsed and disappeared, leaving a bright pink scar in place of the hole and stopping the bleeding completely.

Jane moved to the next most traumatic wound a cut on his leg, and sealed it with her spell. She was panting heavily by this point and sat back in exhaustion. She rustled through her bag retrieving one of the healing grease tins.

She twisted its lid and its seal broke. “Bert help me apply this stuff to him. I can’t cast anymore, my spell really takes it out of me,” Jane requested between heavy breaths, her brow and neck covered in sweat.

“Alright, on it,” Bert agreed, not even annoyed that he was being addressed as Bert rather than Al. He smeared some of the foul-smelling substance on his fingers and started applying it to any cut he could find on Fritz’s unconscious body.

“Will he pull through?” Sid asked Jane, more worry in her voice than she liked. Do I care that much? I’ve choked the bastard near to death myself on occasion. She didn’t know how she felt about him. He was charming for sure, but how much of his persona was real and how much was just empty, calculated bravado? How long was it going to be until he betrayed her?

“He’ll be fine, he’s way less cold than the last time he was hurt and his pulse is still going strong,” Jane reassured her, a relieved smile on her face.

“Uh, guys,” Toby said peering over the pit's edge. “There is a Treasure chest down there, Fritz wasn’t just lying to us.” He pointed into the darkness at a spot of light.

The crew scrambled to the pits opening, and looked into the gloom, spotting the chest and gasping, whistling or murmuring in awe.

It was during these utterances of wonder and glee that Fritz awoke.

---

Fritz had certainly died this time, that's why there was so much crying around him, wait that wasn’t crying that was laughing, that was excitement, that was mirth. How dare they be happy when he was dead! I will haunt them mightily for their transgression!

Fritz rolled over onto his side, opened his eyes and let the soft orange glow scald his brain. “Urgh,” He eloquently gurgled. “Fear not, I have survived the stark clutches of death yet again, and lo, I have brought Treasure,” he continued in a magnanimous murmur, it seemed he had not quite regained all his strength if his raspy voice was anything to go by.

He felt bad, weak, but much better than the last time he ‘died’, his arm ached and he had a whole lot of numbed places all over his body. Probably that disgusting healing grease, he sniffed then gagged, as the minty-bile stench snaked up his nose. It's got nothing on the goblin stink though.

Fritz pushed himself off his side and into a sitting position with a groan, he looked around expecting people to be watching his miraculous recovery, but no one had eyes to spare for him, not even Bert. They were instead all focused on the bronze banded chest Fritz had recovered, looks of expectant greed plastered across their faces.

“Well, go on, get it up here,” Fritz croaked, unstopping his water skin and drinking a long draft. He glugged down the soothing cool liquid, then giving a smile said, “Go on strap it to Bert’s back or something, it's surprisingly light.”

Shaken out of their transfixion, they got moving, they threw a sort of holster or sling, over Bert’s back, the one they built then used to carry Fritz up here, he assumed. Bert and Toby scaled down the wall easily, Toby assured the chest was fastened securely to Bert’s back, giving the harness a couple of slaps and pulls to make sure it held tight.

He gave Bert the thumbs up then watched as Bert climbed and brought the precious cargo to the awaiting crowd. Toby followed soon after.

The crew gathered surrounding the Treasure chest in anticipation as Bert placed it on the ground in front of Fritz.

“Do you want to do the honours, Fritz? Or are you still too mortally wounded?” Bert asked, sitting down and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“As I have vigorously recovered from my deadly predicament, yes of course I do,” Fritz scoffed, playing at being offended and Bert smiled back at him seemingly glad he was okay. Fritz stood and played up his limp as he trudged the last couple of steps to the chest, he glanced around and saw everyone watching in rapt anticipation.

He stooped lowered his hand to the lid's lips and pulled the chest open, the chest resisted for only a second then swung open easily with a burst of multifaceted, prismatic light. When the light died down Fritz searched the interior of the Treasure chest.

The chest was laden with items, Fritz pulled out a stack of dark leather vests, around six if he guessed right. Fritz neatly laid them out. The next object was a belt of braided cord of a dark red interwoven with black, that was arrayed with hoops filled with blackened iron throwing knives.

Fritz rolled his eyes as he heard Toby gasp, then threw the belt to the knife-crazed man.

“Do you think it’s magic?” Veronica asked hopefully.

“Nah, it's a bronze chest on the second floor, it's giving us stuff that will make our survival more likely,” Bert explained, trampling right over the dearest dreams of the crew.

“That’s right, it’ll be well-made stuff though, maybe stuff we don’t even know we’ll need until later, Spires can be like that,” Fritz instructed offhandedly as he rooted through the chest's contents “Like this,” he added when he pulled out five small vials and hauled out three iron banded wooden shields.

The gazes of the crew immediately focused on the glass objects in Fritz’s hand completely glossing over the potentially life saving shields. As it they were right to do.

Three of the small vials were filled with an effervescent light orange substance, which Naomi was quickly able to identify as stamina potions. While the other two, containg a thick light red liquid, did not need Naomi's expertise to recognise. Everyone there had heard tales of the life-saving ‘health potion.’

“Uh, aren’t health potions quite rare, and very expensive?” A flabbergasted Fritz asked a stunned Naomi.

“Yes, they are,” Naomi gulped as she broke out of her reverie. “An experienced climbing team might bring one or two for each person. They run anywhere from one hundred to thousands of gold triads depending on the quality. Even then, there are wait lists and exclusivity contracts that would stop those without a powerful benefactor from acquiring even those with the least potency.”

“Urgh, what does that mean?” Greg grumbled brow furrowed.

“It means keep these a secret and don’t use them unless we have to, if I get out of here with one of these to study I might be able to replicate it without having to join one of the alchemy guilds.”

“How potent are these particular potions?” Fritz asked holding out the two slightly glowing vials.

Naomi took one of the health potions out of his palm with almost trembling fingers. She frowned as she inspected the liquid, she popped off the vials stopped put her pinky finger inside and withdrew a drop of the dark red potion. She sniffed the red bead then put the drop to her tongue, then hummed thoughtfully.

“Not completely sure, but low potency,” She eventually replied.

Greg grunted, “Why are you getting so worked up about them then?”

“Because Greg, you mal-witted product of the union of a scabrous leech and a rotting orange. Being alive is better than being dead and health potions are magic that can keep you from becoming dead. Get it now?” Fritz ranted in frustration.

He then handed the other health potion and stamina potions off to Jane, he knew it was good practise to keep the healer healthy and hearty.

“Oh, yeah I knew that! Is that a helmet?” Greg asked pointing into the still open chest.

“I think so, want it?” Fritz asked as he picked up the dark object Greg was pointing to.

The helmet was fully enclosed, with only a long slit for vision and a series of tiny holes in the visor for airflow. It was made of a matte black iron that felt strangely cool to the touch and was heavier than Fritz expected. Still, he hefted it to Greg, who grinned wide as he caught the helm. Then made to put the brutish black metal over his face.

“What do you think?” Greg’s voice rumbled out in a darkly metallic tone. “Whoa! My voice sounds so fearsome.”

“I think having your face covered suits you immensely, you should wear it everywhere, especially around me,” Fritz commented, but Greg just laughed at his insults. His laugh was considerably more menacing echoing out from that brutal black-iron visor.

“Oh, and what’s that?” Sid said excitedly in a surprisingly high voice.