Spire's Spite

The object of Sid’s interest seemed to be a long length of wood with a subtle curve. On closer inspection was definitely an unstrung short bow. Right by the bow were some lengths of what must be bowstring and a leather quiver with nine arrows, all with green feathered fletching.

“Anyone know how to shoot a bow?” Fritz asked hopefully.

The team shook their heads but Sid was still looking on in excitement and spoke up quickly, “No, but I can learn, plus it works well with my wind strike Ability, it's one of the most recommended Archer Path combinations. Being an Archer is what I’ve dreamed of since I was little. I always loved the swift, sly ranger in stories.”

Fritz looked at Sid, who was a bundle of eager nerves, shrugged and handed the bow, arrows and strings to the man.

“Good luck. Not that you need it if any of your sling skills transfer to that bow,” Fritz said cheerfully giving him a smile. Fritz was glad that he was able to ease over some of the tension he’d been feeling from Sid with this hefty bribe.

Sid took the weapon and its ammunition, stopping only for a second as he met Fritz’s eyes and smiled. He looked away quickly and marvelled at his new bow then walked away from the group to string and test out its draw and stability.

Fritz turned back to the chest with the sounds of a bowstring twanging coming from behind him. He lifted out a coil of dark grey rope, it was rough and cool to the touch and Fritz estimated it was about ten yards in length. He threw the coil over one shoulder then reached for the last two objects left in the chest.

“Could’ve used this before I climbed into the pit, but hey, better late than never,” Fritz commented.

The last but definitely not least of the Treasures were two books. One a large tome at least a foot across and the other only a bit bigger than an outstretched hand.

As he removed the last two objects in the chest, the bronze-bound wood subtly shifted. At first, it looked hazy then it began to become translucent until it was finally as see-through as stained glass. Eventually, it faded away from view and out of existence. The process took all of thirty seconds but was intriguing to Fritz’s senses.

He stood still, watching the place where the chest had been until Bert cleared his throat loudly bringing Fritz back to himself and the two books he was holding.

The first large book was a heavy tome with a hard red leather cover and parchment pages, a rarity in Rain City. On the front was a sigil of a clenched fist inside a circle and the words ‘ The Brotherhood Escantor’s: Arte Pugilist, Prowess Martial, Treatise Tactical’ embossed boldly in tarnished silver.

The second book had no title on its soft worn leather cover and looked more like a journal or a travel log than a tome of battle. However, on the first page, the title was cleanly written in an efficient, neat script, ‘The Observations and Impressions of an Officer Contending in an Asymmetrical Conflict: The Training Method and Guide to Effective Strategic Engagement and Skirmishing by Theodore Flynte’.

“Technique books,” Fritz whispered in awe. “On the second floor, in a bronze chest. Incredible.”

“What’s with the weird titles,” Bert asked a little baffled and just as awed. “The ones I heard of sound more like: Advanced Mace Maneuvers or Sword Style: Mist.”

“Don’t really know, but there are a lot of techniques out there and most of them are hidden, secrets for the nobles and guilds to keep. Maybe there are some really weird ones that we haven’t heard of?” Fritz attempted to puzzle through the question while speaking. “Anyway, let's crack open these books and see what we’re working with,” Fritz started leafing through the large red tome first.

The Brotherhood Escantor’s Arte Pugilist, Prowess Martial, Treatise Tactical was a manual on some sort of brawling unarmed fighting style. It seemed to focus on short efficient strikes and counters with punches and kicks. With accompanying compact dodging and weaving lessons for up-close fighting, and instructions on long leaps and rolls to get out of the way of long-ranged or large-scale Abilities.

“Looks like an unarmed or fist weapon fighting style, complete with defensive maneuvers,” Fritz announced while reading the strange tome. “Anyone interested, Lynn might be good with your stone fists, oh and look here Bert, it mentions concussive strike!”

“Excellent! I’ve always wanted to turn my whole body into a weapon, to walk into battle nigh on naked and punch monsters right in the face,” Bert exclaimed without a hint of sarcasm, his amber eyes alight with a wild fervour.

“Won't it disappear as soon as it’s studied?” Lynn questioned in trepidation, a look of concern and worry crossing her dark features.

“What? No! That’s all lies spread by those who want to keep the Technique books to themselves,” Fritz said hotly, anger roiling up in his chest. “Though they do tend to decay quickly when out of a Spire. They can be kept for years or even decades if you’re careful, and they can be taught from memory. It’s not as perfect as the book but it also might be a better version that's been improved upon by a climber. That’s not to mention self-made techniques,” He spoke on in an agitated diatribe.

“That’s not important right now. You guys take the punch book and train it up with each other, and anyone else who wants to punch monsters for a living,” Fritz amended cutting off his lecture and throwing the book into Lynn’s arms. She caught it easily and stood, she strode over to Bert who was just getting to his feet and patting himself free of the ever-present dust. Lynn looped her arm around his and led him away to practise the technique.

They stopped a few yards away and read the book together, discussing the diagrams and explanations softly which mimicking the motions they saw on the pages. They practised the quick, compact punches outlined in the book on each other slowly, combining it with subtle weaving and footwork in the strange text.

“Okay and the other one?” Veronica asked impatiently, snapping Fritz out of the distraction that was Bert and Lynn’s training. “Better be useful for the sane among us.”

Fritz opened the small journal-like book and leafed through its thin paper pages. It went a little over his head and seemed mostly concerned with small squad tactics and warfare, though it had some tips on fighting a much stronger and better-equipped foe. Perfect for us I guess, Fritz thought bitterly. It had sections for simple weapons and their uses as well as a focus on stealth, retreat and traps.

“It has a bunch of squad tactics, simple weapon drills, stealth and stall advice. All recorded by one Theodore Flynte, whom I’ve never heard of,” Fritz summarised. “It should be useful for us even if it's not a particularly powerful technique it seems very versatile, which is what we need.”

“What of the other gear, who’s that going to?” Veronica inquired picking up one of the leather vests and overlaying it over her chest checking its sizing. The vests had rough laces to tighten or loosen the armour as needed.

“Well there’s six vests and as Bert and Greg already have fish scale shirts so the rest of us should get these, only one person left out. As for the bucklers. People who are likely to be on the front lines and aren’t learning an unarmed technique so you, Toby and Naomi seem like the best choices,” Fritz outlined logically, chucking the vests and shields to those he named.

“There are also spears that can be gathered from the pit so we can do some of these militia drills,” Fritz instructed.

“Oh no no no, sweet Fritz,” Bert cried looking up from his book and striding until he was standing before Fritz. “You’re not getting out of wearing armour this time, you’re always getting wounded and we wouldn’t want you to valiantly die, again. Put on the vest and strap that shield to your arm,” Bert commanded sternly, scooping a leather vest from the ground and pushing it into Fritz’s chest.

“Why don't we put it to another vote?” Fritz smiled weakly. “Just in case.”

“No votes, no arguments, just put the gear on and revel in its protection,” Bert said brooking no talk back from Fritz, which he knew would do nothing, Bert’s mind was set.

“Fine, but only for you,” Fritz uncharacteristically grumbled setting down his fish blade and putting on his new equipment. “But I also want the rope, I’ll need it. For climbing, not for anything else,” Fritz added in an adequately suspicious manner.

“Wait, what are you going to use the rope for?” Naomi asked a little intrigued. He merely raised an eyebrow and made some tying motions that were suitably vague enough for his purposes.

Naomi’s face flushed and she was about to ask further questions when Toby interrupted.

“Don’t bother asking, he’s just trying to cover up his loss to Bert,” Toby explained, annoyed at Fritz’s antics.

Fritz scowled at Toby, then searched the room around him, as he held the precious technique book open comparing it’s drill requirements to the room. “Not enough room in this room to practice what’s in this book, we’ll have to move on to somewhere with more floor space.”

“Agreed,” Bert said also looking around at the room. “When do you think will you feel well enough to scout ahead Fritz?”

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll be as right as rain,” Fritz answered wearily. “That sew wound spell worked wonders on that hole in my arm, good job Jane, still can we go easier on the grease next time?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be already planning a next time Fritz,” Jane said coolly.

“Right, yes, of course, I’ll not come back dying again. I promise,” Fritz replied as sincerely as possible while strapping the small shield to his left arm.

A chorus of “liar” “idiot” “Uh huh” met this comment with all the concern it deserved, which was none.

Fritz sat and rested, drank some water, and ate some monster fish while he leafed through the technique ‘journal’ noting some of the more interesting bits about twisting the blade and causing more injury with simple strikes.

The book was quite a grim read, the dry, almost philosophic, text seemed mostly concerned with dragging down the powerful by ‘bleeding them dry’ or causing them to blunder and waste time searching for opponents that had long since left. As he had observed from his prior glance, resource deprivation, stealth and attrition were its focus.

Very useful, but Fritz had the strange impression that that’s not all there was to this technique book. I was just a hunch, a subtle touch on the surface of his mind but it was something he couldn't quite grasp. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, they had a long slog ahead of them and he was feeling worse about their chances than ever.

He realised just how unprepared they were for this. This spire was far more deadly than any other Minor Spire he had heard of, as the rewards proved. An obscure technique book was a prize for any of the Major Spires' upper floors or a lucky find anywhere else, but two? Was it luck or was this Spire much worse than he thought and gave them these books to let them have a slim chance at success?

Fritz gulped and fear spread through him, its icy tendrils gripping his muscles as he anticipated at what must be waiting for them on the higher levels. If those blight hounds were on the first and goblins on the second what is the third going to look like? He wondered ominously.

Did the Nightshark know just how deadly this Spire was? Yes, he had to have known, anyone coming out of this Spire with a Path is going to be tough, tougher than a usual climber. And even if they blabbed to anyone someone sneaking in is likely to just die.

I wonder how many people even survive this spire each toll? Is this where he sources his enforcers? If we even survive will we even have a choice of whether to serve him or not? Are we still likely to be killed if we refuse his orders?

Fritz shook his head shaking off his racing, troubled thoughts, then stood, it had been at least ten minutes and he felt any more thinking would render him too terrified to act.

Putting away the precious technique book into a pouch at his side, he called out to the crew, “I am ready to venture forth bravely, follow me from three yards away in the agreed-upon formation. We shall be off and upwards towards adventure!” Fritz let a fake grin slide across his features then turned to leave, the movement leaving behind the fear that had been stiffening his limbs.

There were the sounds of groans and scuffling coming from behind him as he led on, hand outstretched with an amber stone glowing in his fist. Out of the pit room and into the darkness with only the swirling orange light to guide them.

They were as quiet as they could be, but every now and then there was a small scrape or clatter of a loose stone on the gravelly floor. The passage ahead would slant downwards then upwards the winding of the tunnel prevented Fritz from seeing further than a couple of yards ahead.

They met little, save the heat and dark, that was until Fritz thought he had found the hallway, or one similar to the one he had seen outside the goblin's ‘bedroom’. The tunnel had those same peepholes, he snuck up on one of the small openings and went to peer through cautiously.

He heard a high-pitched giggle from the other side of the wall as if the goblin couldn’t keep in its amusement. He flinched away from the sound, in painful remembrance. That small movement probably saved him an eye as but a moment later a spear shot out of the opening clipping the tip of his ear.

Fritz stumbled back slapping a hand to the injury, luckily there was no blood, just a glancing strike then.

Fritz cursed himself,‘peepholes’ How dumb am I? It was right in front of me. Another trap and it was one he had seen already but hadn’t grasped its purpose. In frustration he grasped his Power pointing his palm forward casting Stone Pit on the hole.

The hole widened instantly, the wall's dirt pushed away to reveal the face of a grinning goblin. Fritz thrust his fish blade through the hole catching the goblin in its dark beady eye. Once the sword struck and he could feel the tip hit the back of the goblin’s skull, he twisted the blade and yanked back harshly.

The goblin fell limply to the gravelly ground, giggling all gone. A goblin next to it screeched in rage and fear alerting the others to the danger. Fritz backed up before they could act. He signalled to the crew and whispered to Sid “I made a hole, can you shoot the goblins through it?”

“Need light,” He signalled back. Fritz nodded and aimed a throw, his amber stone spun its spiralling light as he tossed it through the air clean through the foot-wide hole. There were muffled, guttural shouts of surprise when the stone landed in the middle of a group of four goblins.

Sid took their surprise as an opening, drawing an arrow and nocking it to his bow. Fritz felt a slight breeze and saw an aura of rippling air coalesce around the arrow as it was aimed. Sid loosed the arrow and it whizzed through the air at frightening speed. It passed straight through the chest of the closest goblin and struck one of the others standing beside it, lodging in its pronounced ribs.

They both slumped to the ground in pain, kicking and gurgling as blood bubbled up from their lungs. The other two goblins looked on in terror then fled. Their fearful chattering and the padding of their filthy feet carried back to the group as the goblins ran away into the darkness.

Fritz waited for a moment listening for an oncoming rush, but nothing came so he snuck up to the hole and peered into the hidden room. He looked for any stragglers or ambushers but he found only rags, gravel and stinking goblin blood.

“How many did we kill,” Bert asked seriously, as he kept his eyes open for attacks and scowled as he saw the ugliness that was goblin-kind.

“Sid got two, I got one, watch out for holes in the walls they’re not just for spying as I have belatedly realised,” Fritz answered recriminating himself for his mistake. “Nice shot by the way Sid, the wind Power seems to already be paying off, tore clean through that goblin,” Fritz complimented earnestly, wiping the blood off his fish sword with a rag.

Sid merely looked away, seemingly embarrassed. Fritz wondered why the man couldn't take a compliment but decided not to press the subject in this stinking goblin warren.

“Yeah it’s definitely something, was aiming for the head though,” Sid admitted humbly.

Fritz shrugged, snuck ahead and kept scouting forward this time on the lookout for more ‘peepholes’ and other traps.

The rest of the day continued on like this, Fritz would find a trap or a group of goblins in the walls and they would follow a similar strategy every time. Open a wider hole with Stone Pit then let loose with spears arrows and abilities. The shocked goblins would either die or flee, that was until they stopped finding ‘wall goblins’ at all.

“None in this room,” Fritz informed the team as he looked through his extended hole. The multiple casting of it through the day had really started to drain his stamina and he felt he could only go on for an hour longer even with his enhanced endurance.

“Must have caught on to our strategy and are scared. Maybe they aren’t bothering with us anymore now that we’ve killed like twenty of them,” Toby said cheerfully for once in his life and patting his belt of throwing daggers contentedly.

“Thirteen including the ones Fritz said he killed down in the pit,” Bert corrected, a hint of fatigue in his voice.

“Hopefully we find a big enough room to rest in, I’m starting to get really worn down here,” Fritz complained, squinting ahead into the darkness.

They continued on their tired limbs trudging ever onwards, sweating, yawning and occasionally stumbling in the heavy air. Fritz lead the way for what seemed like hours, until they finally came upon what they were searching for.

He motioned for the team to stand still and peered into the large wood framed doorway he had come across. Inside was a large enough chamber to hold them all easily.

There was however a big problem, or six big problems to be more precise.