Spire's Spite

The offerings, while useful at any other time, did nothing but flare frustration in his chest while his Sanctum's stormy sky thundered. Annoyed, he fixed his attention instead to his six Attributes left to align. Following through with his previous plan, he brought both his Focus and Dusksong to twelve. Knowing he needed more magical reserves and recovery, that and the Focus to help him reign in his Senses.

He felt the changes wrought to his willow, and himself, as he had before. A subtle shifting of the light and shadows strewn across his Sanctum, somehow both brighter and darker then they had been before. Dusksong's slinking power crept over and around his chest, and trilled in triumph as its cruel, cheerful chorus crawled over his mortal form.

Before he could consider the odd, repugnant feeling, a sudden clarity grasped him. It was like being plunged in numbing cold water or like the world had been spinning and finally it had slowed and stopped, giving him a chance to sort through the myriad sensations from which he was under constant assault. Although the irrelevant sounds, sights and impressions were still assailing him, he could far more easily sort them or ignore them completely. He felt he had definitely made the right choice as far as Focus went, the easing of the constant pressure of sensations was a Godsend.

With a relieved sigh, and without a clear choice of Ability, he returned to the real world. He had been gone too long, this had meant to be a short look not a long contemplation.

His return greeted him with the roaring of the river and the chirping of the small brightly coloured birds as they flittered through the jungle's red and gold canopy. Searching for his team, he found Lauren was sitting next to Rosie by the bank, both filling their waterskins while they rested, their bare feet splashing in the fast waters. For a moment he revelled in the peace and new clarity that Focus allowed him, soaking in the sights and sounds.

Relaxing. Just for a moment.

In the distance he heard the shriek of George's Sever and the creaking of a falling tree. He watched as the tips of tall branches rustled, tipped and fell, then snapped and broke. The ground shuddered as the trunk struck the ground. Fritz lowered his eyes back to the dense jungle, thinking over the choices that were laid out for him in his Sanctum while also keeping an eye out for the raider.

Poison Sense, Treasure Sense and Quieted Steps. The latter of the two he had been offered before while the former was new, if similar, to his other Sense Abilities. Of the three, Quieted Steps and Poison Sense were the most useful in this situation. Though he doubted how much use they'd actually be against the raider, with his keen senses, Awareness and stealth Abilities that thwarted Fritz's own Powers.

Still, he should go through the offerings. Even if, in his chest, he felt that he would have to take a terrible risk rather than pick one of the present choices. His hand absently went to a pouch on his belt as he considered the first of the offerings.

Poison Sense could be useful, especially when foraging for food in a Spire, or attending a dinner with nobles. He chuckled, that couldn't happen, that life was torn away and could never be returned. Not as he was.

If he understood the Ability, it could also be used to detect venomous monsters or thugs with poisoned blades before they could strike, which was a far more pressing concern. It would have been, or should have been, perfect against Vaa'gur and his toxic attacks. Normally, hunted as he was by a poison wielder, he would have picked it in a moment. But seeing as his other Abilities, like Danger Sense, had been shrouded or suppressed by the raider, Fritz doubted its suitability in this dire situation.

Then he thought on Quieted Steps. More stealth could hardly be a bad thing, however, his boots already had a similar set of properties. That and his Grace had been aiding his movements, making his footfalls smooth and near silent. Whatever benefits this Ability might confer he felt they were only marginal. And while a small advantage can mean the difference between life and death Fritz failed to see how this could help him survive his current foe.

The next was Treasure Sense. There wasn't much to assess here that he hadn't already contemplated before. Though it occurred to him now that it might also help alert him to Treasure-wielding assassins trying to ambush him. If it worked that way. But, again, if he couldn't feel the raider's presence with his Senses it would be of little use. Sure, it was best in the long run but his major concern at the moment was his life and the lives of his team, even Cal.

Fritz cursed the Mer Spire and its weak offerings. Just like the previous choices they weren't enough. Nowhere near enough to keep him safe. A wave of dread and anxiety washed over him, pulling and swirling deep in his gut as he considered his very last option. He slipped his hand into the pouch, rested his hand against the gnarled surface of the Aberrant Seed. There was a shadowy, insidious energy within, one that called to him, whispering both vile threats and eager entreaties.

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Cal, George and Bert dragging the great tree. They heaved and hauled, panted and grunted, not caring about all the noise they made and scattering the birds in the canopy.

If Vaa'gur didn't know where they were from the felling of the tree then he would definitely know now. There was nothing to be done about that, they needed to get across. Staying on this side, waiting to be picked off, was a death sentence.

Fritz went to join them, glad to put off his choice. He lent his own meagre strength to the efforts, and soon the trunk was on the shore. Fritz marvelled at his friends' and fellows' strength. Or more likely Momentum, as the tree was almost as broad as his shoulders and yet they were still able to move the enormous weight.

"Rest, we'll need to push it across at an angle, and all at once so it isn't swept away," Fritz commanded.

They agreed with exhausted waves, and plunged into the river, cooling themselves and drinking deeply. Impatience gnawed at Fritz, he wanted to be over this obstacle, hidden in the jungle on the other side, safe again.

He shuffled, putting his weight on one foot then the other as he watched the gently swirling leaves. He knew he could use this time to select his next Passive but he couldn't bring himself to choose any of the options laid out. The Abilities all seemed too lacking for what they, for what he, needed. And if he were to use the Hounds Seed, refined or no, then he wanted to warn Bert first in case something truly terrible happened.

He knew what Powers you would receive from an unrefined seed would be largely random, dependant on the beast you took it from, a shadow or an imitation of its own Powers. It could even be completely useless, outright detrimental or potentially deadly. Some could even mutate you, change your form in unpredictable and often crippling ways. What if he gained sharper fangs, or became four-legged? Or, Spires forbid, grew a tail. Though perhaps a booming howl, or steely fur, like the beast had, wouldn't go amiss. He wouldn't even begrudge another coating of moonsilver to his bones.

He shook his head.

Gods, what am I thinking? Am I just going to ignore the tales of those who tried to do the same? And died horribly warped and screaming, begging for release. Am I actually going to risk using an Aberrant Seed while being stalked in the middle of a jungle? Of all the terrible ideas you had this would have to be the worst, Fritz.

He needed advice before he went through with his plan, his last resort, but now was not the time for that. Now was the time to get this log bridge put into place.

Six minutes, six minutes too long it seemed, but they leveraged the tree's end onto the rock island. With grumbles more than cheers, they resignedly crossed the rough bark of the bridge. Although the water made the footing treacherous, it was something everyone in Rain City was used to and none fell. Only George teetered near the end, but with a leap, he landed next to the team gathered on the slippery stone.

Without much need for orders, they immediately pulled the trunk further onto the island until it could bridge to the other side of the river. It took an immense effort and was only possible due to all the Abilities and Attributes the team possessed, but eventually, they had it set and ready to be crossed.

"Before we go, wash a bit with this," Fritz said, handing out the no-scent soap he had grabbed from Bert earlier before they crossed the first time.

Rosie seemed to want to ask a question and Lauren looked to scold him. But before they did he interrupted them, "Use it over your clothes. It'll wipe out any scents, lessening the chance he can track us by smell."

"Do you think that's how he's doing it? I mean how is this even possible?" Cal asked, taking the proffered soap with the rest.

"I don't know about how, but he is. As for how it's possible: well, there are as many Abilities as there are drops of rain, there could be many that let you track people. Take Rosie's pick for example: its Glow Strike leaves a mark of some sort," Fritz theorised.

"What about the Well rooms? We've seen no one else so how'd he get in the same ones as us?" He argued.

"I have no idea, all I know is that he has, and that you can encounter others sometimes. Though it's not that common, apart from the sixth Well, and it is advised that teams not stick around in Wells. It's a precaution of sorts," Fritz explained, cleaning himself as thoroughly as possible with the little time and soap they had.

"A precaution?" Lauren asked.

"In case another team Climbs up and robs you," Bert pointed out, lathering his arms, hissing a little when he rubbed the venom-stained cuts along them.

"Or worse," Cal added darkly.

"They wouldn't," Lauren protested. "Only monsters like the Krakosi would do something so heinous."

"Unfortunately, they would. It is against the law, of course, but there's no guards in the Well rooms and no way to see what's going on in a Floor from the outside. Might as well be the gutters for all the protection the guard are in here," Fritz said bitterly. "People die in Spires. Sometimes it's the monsters and sometimes it's Climbers settling grudges or satiating their greed. It's nothing new."

"I read the Spire punishes you for it. Ejects you if you intend harm on another Climber," Lauren stated as she applied soap to her lovely neck.

"Only on the sixth Floor or the Precipice is what I read. And that matches our experience, no?" Fritz said. "What with that terrible beast-of-a-man hunting us. Although I heard harming others in a Well room does call down the Spire's spite. Which is likely the reason we've been able to get this far without being caught... again."

"So that's why we're rushing to the sixth?" Rosie asked, washing off the last of the suds on her legs.

"Yes," Fritz said, letting hope ring in his voice. "We'll be safe there."

"Then let's go," Rosie proclaimed, clambering onto the long log first despite being the clumsiest of the lot. She winced, put a hand to where she had been wounded by the raider's dagger, and slipped straight into Bert's arms.

"You okay? You don't look good," Bert said.

"Just a little sick and dizzy. No worse than eating a squid pie that's gone bad," she said, wiping her sweaty brow that was a shade too pale. "Think the knife got me worse than I thought. I'll be right once we heal at the Well."

"I'll carry you across, can't have you falling in the river," Bert offered which she gratefully accepted. "We'll be at the Well in no time."

Fritz grimaced, he had forgotten to tell his team that this floor was far too vast to cover quickly, that once they were across and had found somewhere to hide they would have to consider a different strategy. Still, that was a conversation for later.

George went first over the bridge, then Lauren followed after taking it slower and steadier. Cal was behind them and then it was Fritz and lastly Bert carrying a sickly Rosie. Though the log rocked when slapped by any of the larger infrequent waves, none of the team tumbled.

Once they were all across and on the bank, they dislodged the bridge, letting the log be pushed by the rushing water and roll into the river, swept away within moments.

"Well... done..." Fritz panted, turning to his team then running towards the safety of the jungle's dense undergrowth, waving for them to follow. "Get out of the open!"

In a scramble they joined him, and he led them through the hanging vines and lush ferns, careful to not leave too much of a trail. He supposed it wouldn't matter much, Vaa'gur likely had the skills to track their passage, though that didn't mean they had to make it easy for him.

They trekked through the rough terrain, gone was the reprieve of the river's cooling waters and they felt again the stifling heat of the jungle. Rosie walked as far as she could, but would often stagger. After a third fall, Cal had to carry her rest of the way. While he looked angry at the burden it was apparent to all that he was just afraid for her safety. Some one would have to take another look at her wound once they had found a place to rest, once they had time.

Fritz was tempted to climb a tree, to get a lay of the land from the high ground it would provide, but decided against it. He didn't trust the look of the bright blue and green songbirds, especially the small beaks and talons that gleamed with a subtle sharpness. He was sure their pretty plumage and sweet songs were some sort of deception, and that if he were to encroach on their territory, high up in the canopy, they would swarm him like a nest of starving rats.

He could see it in their evil, beady, black eyes. Or maybe he was paranoid, which made sense considering the last bird he encountered left him with a pale scar on the back of his hand. Still, this wasn't the time to test it, he would let his gut feeling guide him for now, avoiding the risk entirely. Rather than take the high ground, Fritz instead searched the dirt, looking for stone and rock that might lead him to a cave, preferably one with only one entrance to watch.

What he discovered, after following up a rocky creek, was better than he had dared to hope. A tall, thin waterfall shrouded in misting spray and a cave crowded with vines just behind.

Fritz grinned. "Would you look at that! The Spires smile on us for once," he laughed pointing.

"A cave!" Rosie cried.

"A cave?" Lauren groaned. "I thought you'd found the Stairway."

"Unfortunately, I think we have stumbled into a survival Floor," Fritz said.

His assertion elicited a chorus of grumbling and grousing, but he didn't listen to the complaining. Instead, he smiled blandly at them and walked towards the cave's covered mouth.

"Make sure there's no bear this time," Bert joked.

Fritz passed under the curtain of cool water, and slipped between the hanging vines, straining his ears for the sound of anything moving, and taking in the damp, verdant air. Nothing alerted his Awareness, nothing to hint at any dangers dwelling within. On the contrary, if anything, the smooth grey stone gave off the feeling of a hidden sanctuary. A place of peace and respite, free of predators and pains. With a sigh of deep relief, Fritz stuck a hand through the waterfall and motioned his team to join him.

Whatever the group's misgivings it seemed that they could also tell that this cave was safe, or at least safe enough for now. Still, unwilling to take the refuge's apparent security for granted, Fritz set off and explored the depths once the team were situated and seated by the entrance.

It only took him three minutes to find himself at a dead end, with no further exits and no bony remains to worry about. He returned swiftly and gave the group the good news.

"Thank the Gods," Cal said.

"Don't thank them, thank me," Fritz said offhandedly, trying for a bit of levity after their hard march.

"Do we also have you to thank for the raider?" Cal spat back vehemently.

"No. I would rather blame the raider himself," Fritz said scathingly.

"Or The Commands," Lauren added wearily.

"Yes, but he's chasing you, not us. And you're the reason we're all here," Cal argued.

"Shut up, Cal," George nearly growled. "You knew it was dangerous when you agreed to Climb. Did you really expect it to be easy? That the Spires, that claim hundreds of Climbers a year, you'd be spared any of that same peril?"

"I didn't know we was going to be stalked by a bloody Krakosi raider," Cal retorted turning his oft-too-present scowl on the armoured man. "If I knew-"

"There it is: If you knew. How could you when I myself did not? How could one possibly know what the future holds? I'm no oracle or sage, but I know this much: what you've gained here was well worth the risk of Climbing," Fritz interjected. His repressed frustration boiled over and he continued in a vicious tone. "In fact, you should be grateful. Especially seeing as I plucked you from the gutters, from your pathetic gang and an early death at the end of some thug's knife. From a drowned future in a filthy ally."

"That's-" Cal began, his face reddening and a drumming anger beat from within his chest. "You're wrong! I had no choice! We're going to die! You've doomed us all!"

The accusation stoked Fritz's own fury, and his Dusksong sang with discordant indignation. How many times had he saved the ungrateful prick, how many times had he born his insults without reprisal? Cal didn't fear him, and that would end here. One way or another. His hand went to his dagger's hilt.

"I gave you a choice, in a world that wouldn't. And you blame me? Well here's another choice: render thy grudge silent and end thy hate, or persevere in mean mind and seal thy fate."

The words that had been composing in his chest for some time had been spoken, and echoed dreadfully off the stone walls. Booming, baleful and beautiful. A dark silence fell and he felt the regard of the others change subtly. They had thought him harmless, ever patient, and one who could be trifled with without concern. Another ending then. The dusk called.

Cal paled, but Fritz could see that stubborn seed of pride that wouldn't let him back down begin to sprout. His hand went to his shortsword, which jostled his sister causing her to cough and groan, clutching her side.

"Cal, stop," she whined weakly. "He's been good to us. Leave it be."

He looked at her worriedly, glancing at where she had been stabbed. Again, that resentment was roused.

"He just threatened to kill me. And you want me to stop?" He whispered his tone one of hurt as if she'd betrayed him.

"I do. You're being an arsehole," she said, taking in slow breaths. "You can't be mad at him for things going bad."

"It's his fault you're hurt, his fault you're sick," He growled, then turning on Fritz shouted, "Rosie took a dagger meant for you! She nearly died, and you never even said thank you!"

"That's what teams do," Fritz stated coldly. "They sacrifice and survive. Together."

"And its fine if Rosie makes the sacrifice is it!?" Cal yelled. "Fine to use us as ignorant shields and bait."

"I chose to help, and I would do it again Cal. Fritz would do the same for us. Don't you see that?" Rosie asked bluntly. "Get your head out your arse and stop being a grouch."

The coarse and candid reprimand seemed to surprise Cal, and he searched the glares of those around him.

"What of the rest of you? You think it's fine for him to threaten my life?" He shouted.

"Honestly, yes," Lauren admitted haughtily. "Right now, your irrational anger is making me want to set you aflame myself."

"Quiet down, cool down and think about where we are and why we are here Cal," George said, smoothing over Lauren's burning admonishment.

After hearing the team's opinions, Cal soon had his smouldering, grey-eyed gaze locked on Fritz's own dimly-glowing purple-and-green one. Rosie's lightly trembling hand grasped Cal wrist and she whispered a soft plea.

"Don't."

His face fell and he reluctantly took his hand off his blade's hilt then glared away muttering something about unfairness. Incensed by the man's unrepentant demeanour, Fritz nearly drew his bone dagger and pounced forward to plunge it into Cal's unprotected neck.

"Fritz," Bert said, clasping his shoulder and shaking him from his mad thought. Fritz turned to his friend, and upon seeing the concern in his eyes felt guilt along with some small confusion at his sudden outburst and that deadly impulse. He quickly realised his issue: the tingling trilling of his faerie magic had been eagerly prodding him to punish the man for his disrespect.

With a heavy sigh, Fritz let go of both his frustration and his dagger's hilt. He pushed away the indignation and cradled his pricked pride. In only a few moments he felt his shoulders sag. He sat against the cool stone while he banished Dusksong's influence and cleared his mind.

He had to be more wary. Fritz had thought, because he had Aligned his Focus, that the increase to Dusksong would not effect him much. He had been mistaken. Fritz knew now that it had been goading him to react as he had. Though he didn't chalk all his aggravation up to the shifting magic's influence, that festering fury had been his as well not just a false feeling.

Eventually, he would get used to it, as Lauren had said. But right now, he felt bone tired, and as wrung out as a skulg squeezed for its wax. In the damp quiet and lulled by the splashing of the waterfall he slipped into a daze, then a doze.

Fritz came to when the smell of sweet, cooking crab graced his senses.

Cal handed him a skewer of meat, begrudgingly and obviously still too embarrassed to properly apologise. Fritz took the gesture for what it was, a peace offering and show of cooperation. He took the crab-kabob and nodded an acceptance. He wasn't satisfied, and it seemed neither was Cal, but they could set aside their fight for now. Until they were out of this peril.

"What's the plan?" Lauren asked after they had finished their, somewhat muted, meal.

"We rest up here, then we'll have to set up an ambush," Fritz said.

"Ambush? I thought we were running," Bert said.

"I don't think we'll outrun him with the distance we have to go. He can move surprisingly fast, even so far as to beat us to the Well on the fifth floor," Fritz espoused.

"Won't he just do that again?" Cal asked in a measured tone.

"Next floor is the Sixth, no point," Lauren supplied.

"Then we should still run," George said.

"If we're going to be caught I'd rather be caught when we're rested and prepared rather than exhausted and on the run," Fritz said.

George nodded at the point.

"What if he spots our ambush?" Lauren asked.

"He likely will, and we'll fight all the same. Unfortunately I don't think we have much choice. Though controlling where the inevitable battle takes place can be a great boon," Fritz stated, recalling the last bit from 'The Observations'.

A hush fell over the cave.

"A vote then," Fritz said. "A real one this time," he added with a sly smirk, which was returned with strained smiles.

"For running?" No hands went up.

"For an ambush?" All hands went up, but none as fast as Bert's.

"Done. I'll scout a place in half an hour. If the bastard doesn't stumble upon us sooner," Fritz said.

"I'm sure it'll take him a while to cross that river without a bridge," Bert said hopefully.

There were muttered agreements, but none had the courage to meet Fritz's eye or even look in his direction. His rant may have scared them more than he expected. A mistake, and one that sent another ripple of guilt through him. Bert beckoned to his friend and led Fritz away to the back of the cave so they could talk in private.

"End thy hate or seal thy fate? What in the Abyss was that about?" Bert said seriously.

"Sorry, I wasn't myself," Fritz sighed.

"Too much yourself, more like," Bert said. "Plucked from the gutters? Didn't I do the same to you?" He added with a grin.

"His constant griping was grating on my good will," Fritz admitted. "I thought I should teach him a lesson, make him respect the blades edge. And he who holds it."

"Hmm," Bert hummed. "Doesn't suit you, I'm afraid."

"What?"

"This whole scary faerie thing you're performing," Bert said. "It's well enough to terrify the rabble. But for the team, for me, it's not needed."

"You're right. This whole bloody Climb has been a disaster since that raider turned up. I hate being hunted," Fritz complained. "Is it true that I never thanked Rosie?"

"It is, but it's not like we had the time for pleasantries," Bert reminded him.

"I should've taken the time," Fritz said. "I will take the time, before we set up the ambush."

Bert nodded and grinned at him, seemingly pleased with Fritz. Though that would always be the case, Bert would have his back no matter what, even if he was wrong, and he should remember that and strive to be worthy of that loyalty.

They moved onto the subject of Fritz's other frustrations, mainly his meagre choice of Abilities.

"Are you sure Poison Sense won't work?" Bert asked after Fritz had given him the gist of his offerings.

"Not entirely. Though so far he's been shrouded from my senses, so I can't help but worry," Fritz said.

Bert rubbed at an imaginary beard and hummed. "Hmm. And Treasure Sense is off the table?"

"Need something to help in the fight," Fritz stated. "Any edge will do. Though this is a risk and it would be a disservice to not warn you."

"A disservice? It would be a bloody stab in the back, Fritz," Bert said frowning. "How much of a risk? Will it kill you?"

"I heard it can, or it can mutate you or send you mad," Fritz admitted, sure Bert would warn him off using the Aberrant Seed.

Bert grinned. "No risk on that last one. Do it, use the Seed," he agreed, slapping Fritz on the back. "I'm sure your horrible, disfiguring mutation won't be too bad. And you'll get used to screams and cries of children when they see you."

Fritz scowled at the man, but was heartened by his friend's support. It steeled him further to go through with the mad plan.

"In all seriousness," Bert said, his grin falling away. "Don't die."

"You know me. I would never die," Fritz said assuredly.

Bert smiled at that, knowing it for the baseless bravado it was, and brought him into a brotherly hug with all the requisite too-hard back slapping that entailed. Then he left to distract the team while Fritz sunk into his rainy Sanctum with the Hound's Seed clasped tight in his hand.

He stared at the dark malshaped orb. It was different here in his centre. Unreadable black, silver and red glyphs roiled off its surface like smoke, incomprehensible and insidious. It whispered with babbling madness. Fear twisted in Fritz's gut and it felt like his Sanctum was trying to warn him, or to reject the odious object outright. It was a black spot in his mind, dripping thick, stringy tar that sought to subvert him.

With a shudder and a gulp, he pushed forward and he chose.