Spire's Spite

The great black beast lifted its massive head, inhaled deeply through its snout, scenting the air for the interlopers on its floor. It turned eyes that were darker than night and drank in the moon’s silver light slowly across the grey waste before it. It searched steadily until its dreadful, hollowing gaze fell inexorably upon Fritz.

The Hound didn’t move, didn’t howl to set its pack on his crew like Fritz thought it might. It lay there as patient as the time-worn hill it sat upon. He met the Hound’s cruel, calm, intelligent stare with his own unwavering, defiant glare. It did not avert its eyes, it sat up and watched, still as stone.

Fritz knew why, it was guarding the only way out and somehow it also knew that this was their only escape. So it could wait, it had no need to chase and hunt when they had to come to it. It was a

decidedly un-dog-like strategy, so much so that it made Fritz realise just how smart the creature was to override its instincts and lay such a trap.

From his place among the trees Fritz stepped back, returning to his crew some yards away.

“What’s wrong, what’s got you looking so pale?” Bert whispered.

Only then did Fritz realise he had been sweating and shaking ever so slightly. He wiped his brow and explained the situation.

“Must be Aberrant,” Sid stated.

“Why hasn’t it broken out then?” Bert asked.

“I think it’s trying. Maybe this whole moon thing is how it plans to break the floor,” Fritz posited.

Bert shrugged and Sid nodded, seemingly agreeing with the logic.

“Whatever it’s doing doesn’t matter. We need to get past it and its pack,” Sid said.

“True as the rain,” Fritz agreed.

“Do we kill the big one?” Bert said cracking his knuckles. “Or just run by?”

Fritz could feel the Hound’s gaze upon his back as he spoke, “Kill it, it knows we’re here, it won't let us escape.”

Won't let me escape, Fritz pointedly avoided saying.

“If it’s Aberrant It’ll have a Seed. Depending on its quality it could be worth a fortune, don’t leave it behind, bring its whole corpse if you have to,” Sid sternly ‘suggested.’

Bert nodded and Fritz said, “Of course. There’s no way I’d leave behind such a score.”

“You did with the goblin,” Bert observed.

“It was about to kill me six different ways with one sword. We don’t even know if it was really Aberrant or just a particularly mean and ugly goblin. Plus I got the ring and the chest didn’t I?” Fritz responded defensively. “I bet you like that necklace better than an unrefined Aberrant Seed anyway.”

“True enough,” Bert shrugged. “The gloves are nice too, less bruising and broken skin.”

“No one faults you, Fritz,” Sid said. “It's basically a miracle we’ve got this far anyway. Treasure’s just gravy.”

“I love gravy,” Bert intoned solemnly.

Fritz nodded seriously.

A strained silence fell. Bert brought out the golden heart for some last-minute refilling and Fritz touched his ring to it. When what was left of the heart was put away again, they strode forth, gathered at the tree line and checked their gear one last time. His pack secured and with his fish blade in his right hand and his bone dagger in his left, Fritz steeled himself for one last assault.

This was the last challenge of the Spire, a seemingly impossible challenge, one Fritz knew they were ill-prepared for. The odds had never been in their favour, they were meant to die to some devious trap or terrible monster, but so far they had survived. It was all ending here, this last desperate charge, to face a beast none could hope to best. But Fritz stifled the fear that threatened to send him screaming. He focused, brought his will to bear and pushed the bleak, heavy feelings down. His limbs stopped shaking, his gut stopped bubbling and he held on to hope.

Fritz looked to Bert then to Sid, each of them gave him a nod and he replied in kind. They didn’t need to speak and they didn’t need a speech. They knew exactly what the stakes were and that they would each do what they could. Between them, Fritz could nearly see the intangible, ineffable bonds of friendship, reliance and most of all trust. They stood there for a minute, and then they were off, running across the dusty ground, their softly thudding steps carrying them towards deliverance or doom.

A patrolling pack of hounds spotted them, they veered from their circular course and straight towards Fritz and his crew, barking and salivating their terrible tar as they rushed. Sid stopped in her tracks and bent her bow, loosing a wind arrow that set her cloak flapping in the twisting air.

One of the emaciated creatures fell with a shaft caught in its chest and the others turned, descending upon it almost instantly. They bit and barked, ripping the dying hound to pieces. Having neither the time nor the stomach, the crew didn’t bother to watch. Sid grimaced and started running again, abandoning the arrow buried in the monster’s flesh to the jaws of its kin.

She caught up quickly, and Fritz noted that she could easily outpace them over this flat ground. Well, at least if we fall she might be able to escape without us, Fritz told himself, the thought actually lightening some of the weight on his shoulders. Huh look at that, not so self-centred now, are we? He mused in self-satisfaction.

Another pack but this time a translucent conjured arrow flew into a hound’s skull-like head. Again the cannibalistic creatures fed upon the fallen, then started fighting with and tearing at each other.

“Great aim,” Fritz complimented as she rejoined them.

“Thanks,” Sid puffed out with her dark blue cloak billowing behind her. She cut quite the figure running with long graceful strides over the barren land. She had been right before, the cloak and the breastplate really did go together splendidly. Maybe he’d adopt a similar styling.

“What are you smirking at you idiot? Eyes forward. Watch where you’re running,” Sid snapped.

Embarrassed to be caught staring, especially when there was so much at stake, Fritz turned his gaze around. He kept his eyes low lest he make eye contact with the Hound that was watching their approach. It barked, once. A deep, mighty boom that rattled his ribs and silenced the lesser blight hounds instantly.

Startled, they kept running until Fritz started to worry, the packs were strangely quiet and avoiding him and his crew. Instead of chasing them as soon as they spotted them or scented them on the wind. The desolate creatures just let them pass, following behind from a distance.

The odd behaviour was ominous, so much so that even Bert started to look apprehensive.

“No going back now,” Fritz said pacing himself.

“As if we would,” Bert replied easily, his breath coming much lighter than Fritz’s own.

“Forward or failure,” Sid stated, also seemingly far less tired from the running.

“That’s good. I’ll add it to my next speech,” Fritz replied as he started to pant.

They ran on, watching out for any sign of sudden attack. But none came until they reached the base of the hill. With another booming bark, the Great Hound moved, racing toward them in a dark blur. Now that Fritz was close enough to pick out the creature's details he could see tendrils of a black almost smoke-like substance roiled over the pristine void of the hound’s fur. Its moon-silver teeth were bared, shining dimly in the light.

The hounds joined their lord’s charge, snarling, raving and ravenous. Barks echoed off the moon, and Fritz was assaulted by a torrent of harsh sound. He staggered to a stop and his crew halted with him. Sid loosed a wind-writhed arrow at the great Hound as it streaked towards them, but the black mass subtly shifted and dodged out the arrow’s path with ease.

“Aim for the small hounds, we have to get them into a frenzy!” Fritz yelled over the noise.

Sid nodded and turned her bow on the approaching tide of slavering skeletal monsters. She loosed, again and again. Hounds fell but were left behind, their foul blood and sparse flesh ignored, the hunters only had eyes for their prey.

Fritz prepared to fight, dropping his pack and clutching hard at his two blades. Bert ditched his own pack unceremoniously and sprinted forward to meet the approaching tarry jaws, bellowing a war cry that reverberated off the too-near moon.

The lesser hounds clashed with Bert, gouts of acid sprayed forth from his palms and the monsters whined and growled as they were showered with the searing spray. His fists were quick and his strikes clean as he brutalised his way through their pack. Fritz followed in his wake with a yell of his own slashing and hacking at the hounds attempting to surround them.

Danger Sense alighted his body all over with warnings and he did his best to dodge and weave through the waves of snapping jaws and rending claws. He reflexively activated his ring when he was busy ripping his fish blade free from a hound’s chest and felt the left side of his neck about to be bitten. The barrier enclosed him and was immediately broken by one of the monsters as they appeared, suddenly lunging from one of their kin’s shadows and trying to tear out his throat.

Fritz gave it little thought, letting his instincts guide him into a swift stab with his bone dagger, puncturing its eye and brain with one compact strike. He turned to his next opponent as it readied itself to leap upon Bert’s unprotected back. Fritz stopped it with a Gloom Strike infused thrust from Quicksilver and the cowardly beast fell quickly.

Hacking, stabbing, cutting, carving, dodging and slipping Fritz fought with all he had, trying to break these creature’s control of the fight. Bert was a whirlwind of fists and occasionally acid. Sid was almost dancing between leaping hounds, slashing them or bashing them with her fin sword and baton respectively.

Still, this was only the beginning, the Great Hound was coming and it would be there any minute, and even without their lord these mad beasts threatened to overwhelm them through sheer numbers.

Then the Great Hound struck, the void-black beast blurred past him and Sid was hit with terrible force, thrown off her feet and flung over the heads and snapping jaws of the lesser hounds. The beast was taller than Fritz yet still quicker than any monster he’d ever seen, and he struggled to follow its movements. Again leapt like a black streak, it bit down on Bert’s shoulder with its long, shining fangs and thrashed him about like a chew toy.

Bert screamed.

Then he was tossed into the waiting fangs of its starving spawn.

A sensation of his head being swallowed whole had Fritz ducking under the suddenly leaping Hound. He pulsed his barrier ring into action as the beast soared over his head gracefully, landing and spinning, slashing at Fritz with its back claw. His shield burst with a dull hum and he was sent to the ground hard, a rent carved through the middle of his scale shirt and a line of red cut into his chest.

He rolled away from another claw he felt coming, the beast loomed above him ready to bite down on his neck. He could already feel the hollowing burn. The warning suddenly ceased and an arrow dug into the beast's shoulder, it growled and turned its gaze on Sid. Fritz stabbed up at its furry body with his bone dagger its blade silently wailed with its called-upon curse and his own shadowed energies from Gloom Strike.

The Hound was too fast, too wary, it noticed the blade’s maleficent Power instantly and leapt away from its bitter point. Fritz cursed, having wasted both his stamina and a use of the blade's imbuement. Then they were not wasted at all, as a lesser hound crazed with hunger lunged for his throat. He stabbed, and the opportunistic monster was greeted and gutted by a dagger’s thrust it couldn’t see.

Fritz got to his feet in time to see the Great Hound swipe a claw at Sid as she stood her ground, bow bent and about to loose another arrow. Her white scaled belt subtly glowed with a black-green light and viscous black-green venom leaked from her arrow’s tip. The paw came crashing down from above but was buffeted by a powerful wind, driving it off course and into the ground, kicking up a cloud of grey dust and dirt that swirled in the wild winds.

The envenomed arrow launched, thudded and stuck just under the Hound’s neck. The beast growled and lunged for Sid, breaking through her wind barrier and seizing her torso between its fangs. It bit down and even through the clamour of battle, Fritz heard the crunching, the whining of metal being bent and broken. Sid wailed, high and piercing.

It was amongst the worst sounds Fritz had ever heard, his heart dropped and his body shook. Sid’s agony, given voice, cascaded off the moon, reflecting and resounding with terrible intensity. He felt pinned to the spot as dread, fear and rage fought within, even as the beast threw Sid’s limp body to the side.

It spun to face Bert who had fought his way free of the pack and charged its back. He was covered in dark cuts and bites but they hindered him little as he punched at the Hound’s foreleg joint. The beast was slower to react than it had been, its leg trembling slightly as it made to move, maybe a consequence of the Venom Strike. Bert’s fist connected with a crack and waves of force rippled over the void like fur, diminishing quicker than Fritz had seen before. The Hound growled high in obvious pain but its leg wasn’t pushed out of line nor was its joint broken from Bert’s blow.

Shadows collected around one paw, the light around its entire foreleg dimming in the sliver light and it struck. Fritz could barely concentrate on its attack which meant Bert didn’t see it coming at all. It batted Bert away with its chest-sized paw, rending his flesh with black-as-void claws. He was knocked from his feet and fell into a ravenous pack of lesser beasts who ripped at his clothes and tore at his body. The scent and sight of blood sent them mad.

Sid lay still, in a tangle of limbs and she was about to be pounced upon by the pack.

Fritz needed something to turn the tide, to terrify them, to break the lesser hounds will, just for a moment. He couldn’t move fast enough to save her, and he certainly couldn’t hurt the hounds from where he stood. He looked down to his black-stained fish blade and saw again those motes of blue-green flame dancing in its opaline core.

He reached out to his sword and the eerie light within as he would if it were a Treasure. It resisted his magic’s touch at first but his Sanctum clanged like a brass bell and the blade echoed the toll. It twisted in his mind’s grip but he knew he could command it, so he did. His fish blade’s – no Quicksilver’s edges flickered with blue-green flame, and he felt a great heat through its makeshift hilt. He pointed his sword at the trio of hounds about to savage Sid where she lay broken and Fritz released the flame within the blade fully, willing it to burn as hot as his rage.

The whole blade ignited with bright blue-green fire and a gout of flame, at least ten feet long, burst forth from its tip, incinerating the beasts. He spun as his blade still spew fire, swinging his sword in an arc around him. A wave of flame with Fritz at the centre. The eldritch tendrils sought out the hounds even if they leapt back or ducked under its burning blue-green grasp. Their bald skin alighted just as well as any fur, and a cruel conflagration followed.

Fritz, at last, turned Quicksilver upon the Great Hound and for once he found fear in its hungry gaze, the Tongue of Eldritch Flame, caught upon its hide for a moment before it caught alight, wreathing the left side of its face in the eerie fire. Its fur burnt away and it backed out of the searing agony with a rapid jump backwards. Fritz knew the fire would keep spreading, would eat and scorch everything it touched and for some moments it did, crawling further up the Hound’s hide, turning an ear to ash and boiling its black eye to a blister white.

Then it stiffened, craned its head to the moon and howled. A mournful, agonised note rang into the metallic sky, obliterating all other sound. The moon howled back and Fritz could see the world wave and ripple as Power pulsed down. The flames were doused, squashed and wrung out by the potent Power. It seemed the Hound was pulling the moon's sliver light into itself, consuming it and shadowing the world around them, like a cloud over the sun. Its dark, melted flesh soothed into silvery scars within moments.

The howl cut off suddenly and the moon ceased it’s lamentations a moment after and all Fritz could hear was the cackling of the Eldritch flame.

The Hound turned its hateful, mismatched eyes on Fritz. It staggered, weakened somehow by its recovery. With one last spiteful bark it turned tail and fled up the hill, away from the evil flame that burnt in Fritz’s hand.

“Coward! Wretch!” He screamed at the beast’s fast retreating back.

With no foes left within his reach, he pulled back on the cruel fire but it was intent on inflicting further torment and did not obey, threatening to scorch his crew and himself for daring to wield it.

He heaved the blade up, with all his strength and will, thrusting its tip at the moon. The pillar of eldritch fire roared into the silver sky. He wrestled with the flame, fighting its malevolent will even as his hand sizzled and blistered and the hilt burnt away into thin smoke. With nothing to burn save the night air, the pillar snaked, wavered then finally guttered out, as if it had spent all its power and all Fritz’s rage with it.

Fritz fell to his knees, completely drained, exhausted, the world going dark around him, the only keen feeling being the searing pain from where his hand stuck to his blue-hot fish blade. He dropped his bone dagger and pried Quicksilver from his melted skin, plunging it into the dirt in front of him like a grave post.

He then began to laboriously crawl on his hands and knees toward where Sid’s body lay, dying.

Smoke filled the air, blue-green embers flickered in and out of sight as the once hounds, now pyres, withered into charred skeletons in truth.

He struggled coughing and calling out to Sid and Bert in a croak.

Finally, he reached her side and saw the ruin of her breastplate. The metal punctured and bent inwards, blood leaked from the holes and cracks in the dulled surface. Sid looked pale, eyes still slightly open, staring sightless at the silver sky. Fritz choked, and not from the smoke. Heart and organs crushed, and wracked with that hollowing shadow. She was dead, he knew it. But he checked for breathing anyway, holding out that small hope, the one right in his centre under all that cold light.

A tiny, rattling breath, the light flutter of a heartbeat.

With trembling hands and clumsy fingers, he went for the pouch on her belt, opened its drawstring and pulled out the potion inside. He unstoppered the vial with red liquid and took her chin gently into his hand, placed the potion to her lips and poured. Her grimy, damp skin was cool to the touch and Fritz took it as a bad sign. Even when the last drop of the potion was gone, she still didn’t stir.

There was a shuffling from behind, like something dragging itself toward him and Fritz wished he had been sensible enough to keep his dagger on him worried than one of the hounds had survived or stayed while the others fled. A figure pulled itself through the smoke, wheezing and… cursing the Spire and Fritz’s name.

Bert, Fritz thought relieved and called out through the smog, “Bert over here! Sid’s… hurt she’s-” He couldn’t bring himself to say rest but Bert finally stumbled to his feet and staggered over to where they both lay. He looked terrible, so many bite marks, scratches and cuts but gave Fritz a grimace and said, “I’m okay, what about Sid?”

Relieved that at least Bert was okay Fritz turned back to Sid looking for any sign of improvement, but found none. Maybe her skin was getting warmer? He put the back of his hand to her forehead. No, still cold, too cold.

Sid let out a groaning breath and her heart thudded once.

Then Sid lay still.

Fritz wept.