Spire's Spite

Fritz took his time returning to his team, strolling a circuitous route around the Well room, admiring the various intriguing sculptures and mosaics in their evenly spaced alcoves. Though he liked some of the aesthetic of the arrayed art, they gave him an unsettling sense of the uncanny, and the more he looked the more small errors he saw. Alien Landscapes that flowed into each other like mixed syrups, alike and also completely unalike his recollections of the Twilight realm.

The people depicted in stone or scale had too many or too few fingers, strange distortions in their faces and very little delineation between clothes and skin, like the artist couldn't tell the difference or simply didn't care. Deep in his chest he got the feeling that it all lacked intention... or reason to be.

Or did it?

Sadness spread through him, a sudden, ancient, sense of loss. It wasn't his own, it was too vast for that. He pushed it away and felt the mountainous melancholy slither past him, he imagined it was like brushing against a leviathan's slimy hide as it swam past, parting the sea with its enormity. And then it was gone, the pressure receding, though it left him with a sour taste in his mouth and mind.

"Fritz, what's wrong?" Bert called out. "You look like you've eaten a lime. Are the Doors that bad?"

"Hmm, what?" Fritz said shaking his head free of the fog. "No, well, I mean, yes. The Doors are not great by any means. I was distracted, and somewhat disgusted by the art all around us. It's... wrong."

"Yeah, it is weird, this one's shawl blends into its hair," Rosie said pointing to a statue. "And it has eyes all down its arm."

"Revolting," Lauren said, scowling.

"What's this about the Doors?" Cal asked. "If even Fritz thinks they're bad they have got to be nasty."

"Unfortunately, that is too true," Fritz sighed, contemplating how to tell them what he saw without revealing too much of his Door Sense. "My Senses and Awareness have revealed some troubling things. Danger Sense especially warmed me of the leftmost and rightmost doors. The rightmost's deadliness is apparent, likely both an underwater and an undead floor. If the dead coral of the cave is anything to go by."

The team looked just as horrified as Fritz had felt when he'd seen those bone-eels.

"Absolutely not," George said, with surprising vehemence.

"Scared of ghosts?" Rosie teased.

"I am, and you should be too, can't slice a ghost with a sword," he replied seriously.

"You can't? Not even with Sever?" Cal asked.

"I don't know, but I don't want to test it. Not with lives on the line. Or underwater for that matter," George explained.

"I read that light-aligned or life-aligned Abilities are effective against ghosts," Lauren supplied. "My Soothe Burn could harm them, theoretically. Though it is touch range, and like George, I'm not sure I want to risk getting close to a ghost."

"Just cause it's an undead Floor doesn't always mean ghosts," Bert said. "Might be skeletons or zombies."

"I am not willing to take that risk," Fritz said. "Even with the small chance there are ghosts, the risk of finding them is there. And the tales of their curses or ageing, withering touch are far too terrible to ignore."

"Fair," Bert said. "Then what's wrong with the next Doors?"

"I'm not too sure about the leftmost Door, it looks grand, like the entrance to a palace," Fritz said motioning to the white marble with gold reliefs. "Though my Danger Sense warned me that it would be perilous. Very perilous."

"Sounds right. It looks like it has Treasure so it must be guarded," George said, nodding thoughtfully.

"I wouldn't mind a straight up fight," Bert professed. "Something to get the blood pounding."

"More like blood letting, I can't help but feel some one in the team will die if we go through that door," Fritz admitted.

Bert's face fell at that, apparently he'd taken a liking to the current crew. As he had too, Fritz reflected. Even Cal.

"The middle Door leads to some sort of maze, it has traps within. It doesn't feel nearly as dangerous as the other two. Though there was also something else that I couldn't quite quantify," Fritz said, running a hand through his hair and flashing Bert a subtle hand sign.

"Might be other Climbers," Bert said upon catching the signal.

Fritz put on a frown as if thinking on it, then said, "Maybe. Which might be troublesome."

"And you think that adds to the danger," Lauren said sceptically.

"Perhaps," Fritz allowed.

He wasn't at all sure which of the two Doors he wanted to take, while the promise of gold in the marble door was enticing they were already loaded up with enough silk to make them moderately well off. Though that same wealth could also make them a target of the other Climbers. He'd hear out his own team's opinions and side with what they thought best, for now.

"Are we actually likely to run into the other people?" Rosie asked.

"Depends entirely on the floor and if we go looking for them," Fritz said. "Though I don't think we should seek them out. If they catch wind of our stash of sirensilk we might have to fight."

"It wouldn't come to that, surely," Lauren protested. "Not everyone is a Krakosi raider or street thug. Especially in a Spire."

The mention of the raider darkened everyone's expressions, even Lauren who had spoken the words looked down dispiritedly.

"Maybe not, still I much mislike the look of the palace, and the deadly danger within," Fritz said. "I'd take a fight with other Climbers any day over what may wait in there."

"And they might be the ones carrying some Treasures and gold," Bert said.

"We're not going to rob them," Lauren stated sternly. George nodded at that.

"I never said we would.... but if they tried to steal from us.... it would be self-defence," Bert stated non-convincingly.

"If we run into them," Fritz added. "And you never know, they could have left by the time we go in. I suggest we sleep a night before taking the next Door anyway."

They fell into quiet contemplation.

"We'll vote tomorrow," Fritz stated. "Let's have something to eat. Cal, did you purchase some extra foodstuffs?"

"I did. Also traded with the foreigners and the locals to up the variety in our monster meats and aligned vegetables," Cal said eagerly.

"Wonderful," Fritz and Bert said together.

"I've been sorely missing vegetables, a good find," Lauren said smiling, which lit up Cal's own smile even further.

"I have some stone-aligned potatoes and this," he said, producing an orange clamshelled melon, almost the size of his torso, from his personal pack. "It's a saltwater pumpkin, or so they said. Meant to be a little sweet and somewhat salty."

"Get to cooking then, I'm so hungry I could eat a horse, scales, hooves and all," Bert said.

Cal nodded and got to work, slicing the vegetables on a recently procured cutting board of pale wood. Soon they were eating another delicious savoury stew of potatoes, pumpkin and some strips of smoked shark. The last of the crab meat had either been eaten or traded away before it went bad. They ate and talked, the danger of the previous floors near forgotten.

Eventually, the yawning began, precipitated by Lauren, and they set themselves to rest. Though not before making makeshift pillows out of their newfound feathers and the larger of the unused sacks. None in the group had much mastery over sewing. Even Lauren, who Fritz was sure would have been forced in such domestic tasks, was unskilled with thread and needle, the use of which wasn't befitting a woman of her station. Or so she had said.

"I'm common, but not so common as to mend my own clothes," she had stated, frustratedly setting down a steel needle that was taken from Fritz's leather armour repair kit.

"Never had much to sew. We had rags of course, though the twine was hard to come by and more suited to being fishing line than thread," Fritz said as he finished sealing a sack's mouth shut. "Though I must say, I feel these stitches are rather neat," he added showing off his sack pillow.

"You do seem to have a talent for it," George said, looking over his own creation which was sturdy if a little inelegant.

"To make up for his other lacking qualities," Bert groused, annoyed at how much better made Fritz's pillow was.

"Or he's just cheating with Grace," Lauren observed.

"That's it, he's a cheater," Bert agreed easily, to the nods of the rest of the team.

"How dare you. My good name has been besmirched. Will no one come in defence of my honour?" Fritz arrogantly entreated.

"They would. If it existed," Bert said with a grin.

Again the team seemed to agree, smiling along at the joke.

Fritz acted affronted but soon let the performance go, and lent his aid to the others still struggling with their needles and thread. To his small surprise, the act seemed to garner him some new respect, or what he took for respect, or perhaps loyalty. He could see it in their eyes and hovering around them like small rays of strange light. His Awareness lending him odd insight into their hidden thoughts.

With siren feathered pillows and siren silk sheets over their bedrolls, they tucked themselves in to sleep, with Bert on first watch as usual. In this unforeseen, and what Fritz felt was well-earned, opulence, they slept.

---

The next morning, rested and refreshed, Fritz and his team stood before the doors. Unfortunately, that strange feeling of other Climbers on the middle Floor hadn't changed.

"Right, they're giving me the same impressions as before," Fritz announced, and a few faces fell. "Vote. Left Door?"

Lauren's and George's hands went up steadily, Fritz could read their reluctance to have to deal with other Climbers, specifically their fears of maybe having to fight and kill them. He shared those same reservations, though he was willing to do what was necessary. While the leftmost Door's deadliness wasn't certain, his gut told him in no unsure terms that someone would fall, fatally. He trusted his gut, and he was willing to trade the lives of others to keep his team whole. If it came to that.

"Middle Door?" He called out. This was the safer route, and if they had to fight other Climbers then so be it, he wouldn't hesitate, and so he had cast his vote for the middle door. Fritz was joined by the rest of the team who hadn't voted yet, obviously thinking along those same lines. It didn't surprise him much, those from the desperate district had seen enough death to tolerate it. Especially when it came to keeping safe and holding onto what you have.

"Two to four," Fritz stated, keeping his face blank. He was glad the vote had gone this way as he had also felt some faint but deep pull, towards that Door. Though that didn't bear thinking about, being just an odd intuition, the source of which he couldn't quite comprehend.

Lauren and George nodded, they didn't seem angry or upset, and a weary resignation set on their shoulders. They didn't want to fight other humans, but would do so if needed. Or so Fritz suspected.

"Middle Door it is. Follow," Fritz ordered as he led them through the stone brick Door.

Immediately the smell of dust, leather and paper surrounded him, tinged as it was with the slight scent of mould and a worrying dampness. He reached the end of the stairs where it opened into a corridor of grey stone brick. Peeking his head around the corner, then looking this way and that, Fritz stealthily stepped into the open, keeping an eye out for any danger, be they man or monster.

There was nothing. Nothing harmful at least. Down the passage and to his left, a hundred feet or more away, was a curving staircase leading down. To his right, there was another leading up. Light appeared in his vision, not from either set of stairs, but from behind. He turned to see his team enter the passage, Cal held their glowstone lantern illuminating Fritz's frowning face.

"Stop scowling," Bert said quietly. "It's pitch black up here, even I can only see about nine feet in front of me."

Fritz smoothed his expression and smiled.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed. Look's clear as day to me," he said smugly.

"Spare a little thought for your followers," Bert chided affably. "It's what a good Captain would do."

"I'll do as you suggest, later. For now, I have some stairs to search," Fritz said. "Stay here, I'll be back as soon as may be."

Bert nodded, and Fritz left his team behind. Pulsing his Awareness, he found nothing. It was like his Door Sense was being suffocated by a titanic cold blanket, or shrouded as if he were in a dense mist. The Stairway could be anywhere, though somehow he knew it wasn't close. It was likely that this particular Floor was suppressing the range or potency of his Door Sense, similarly to the one in the Sunken Spire with its shrouded trap. He hoped that this Floor had only muddled one of his detection Abilities, if they were all taken away he would be of very little use.

His mind, preoccupied with traps and doors as it was, nearly missed what was right in front, or rather, right below him. He directed his attention to the brick floor and he noticed that the sparse cover of dust had been disturbed. That, and he could clearly see the distinct impressions of boot prints. He didn't know if the tracks were recent, though there was a visible trail leading both left and right.

Maybe there are man-alikes with boots? He tried to argue to himself as his stomach dropped and his shoulders tensed. Suddenly a face flashed before his eyes. That of the raider, that raving, drooling, gruesome grin inches from his own. Involuntarily he trembled, recalling the feeling of knowing he was moments away from death. That powerlessness.

No. It's dead, he told himself.

Ravaged, ruined, painted red. Slaughtered, slain, forever dead.

Seizing the unexpected outburst of emotion, he buried it deep down, lulling it with Dusksong so it would sleep. Sleep with the other unwanted, unneeded hurts. A cold calm settled over him and he brought himself back to the present, exhaling a long, steadying breath.

Shaking off his remaining fears, Fritz decided to check down the left side of the corridor first. He found that its curved stairs led down and to the left. The smell of mould intensified and from below a light breeze wafted. Cool and humid, like morning. He stealthily made his way down and noticed that some of the cracks between the bricks were dripping seawater. The leaking was only slight, though it reminded him, uncomfortably, of the Seawall. Still, he pressed on, further down and into the dark.

At the end of the passage there was a tall set of double doors made of dark, hard wood. They were shut. A chest thick rectangular bar of wood held the door closed. The bar was heavy, but Fritz was strong, or stronger than he should be, and with some intense effort he was able to lift it out from where the bronze braces secured it to the stone door frame and the wood of the door itself. Lifted free from its supports, the length of hard wood thunked on the stone, then he dragged it from the door's path.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, Fritz pulled on the bronze handles and the double doors easily glided open. The hinges didn't even creak as the large space beyond was revealed.

The room, or hall really, was large, had an open balcony, providing a view to a second floor. Both floors were filled with bookcases, they surrounded him, the gaps between them creating a maze of dark alleys and passages. And in those bookcases were, of course, books, hundreds if not thousands of them. A collection of writings in all different shapes and makes, some bound in leather, some carved of stone, others merely scrolls tied together with rotting ribbons. All covered in dust and some being eaten by creeping mould.

Fritz clenched a fist, tore his gaze away from the mistreatment of the books and the chaotic jumble of shelves, and looked instead to the second floor of the room. He needed to get up there to get a better view of the area. Balustrades lined the overlooking balcony, making it an easy climb if he could reach it, though it was far to high for him to simply leap to.

Seeing no stairs close, Fritz scaled the closest set of shelves, the frame remained sturdy but the planks of the shelves themselves creaked under his touch and snapped when he put his full weight on them, spilling their old dusty contents to the stony bricks below. It was an ordeal, but eventually he was able to scale a frame without it tipping and crashing into its neighbours. A relief, he didn't want to start some sort of chain reaction that would collapse the shelves and block any routes to the other side of the room.

From there he leapt, carefully, to the balcony and pulled himself up and over the balustrades. He wiped his hand afterwards, the off-white paint had came off in powdery chips at his touch. Fritz then turned his eyes to the floor below.

Bookcases. Row upon row of them, sprawling, misaligned and seemingly placed at random. A sprawling mess of dusty, mouldy hallways. The stone floor was littered with, Paper and parchment, vellum and slates. Covered with writings in decrepit states. It was a dizzying, desolate sight. To see so much knowledge, all stacked so carelessly, haphazardly, as if rubbish, burned him somewhere deep in his chest.

If Sid saw this she'd be furious.

From where he stood, he could see a set of double doors opposite the ones he had entered from. He could see they were also barred. Fritz squinted, noticing something wrong and hoping what he suspected wasn't true. Alas, the wood was curving, rotting and bending outward. And even from where he was standing, at least a hundred feet away, he could hear the wood creaking and see water pour from between the door's seams.

The room shuddered and the door groaned ominously as if under some great pressure. It likely was, all the signs led Fritz to believe that this library, for that is surely what it was, was under the ocean and sinking further and further into the dark waters. When that door broke, and it surely would, the entire room and everything within would be flooded and lost to the cold depths. Fritz decided that rather than let his curiosity potentially drown him, he would instead retreat, no, report to his team. He jumped down from his perch and with long, quick strides he made his way up the stairs out.

He attempted, for a moment, re-barring the doors behind him. It was a lost cause, while he had enough strength to move the thick plank up and out of the braces, he couldn't muster enough to lift it off the ground and cleanly set it back into place. Instead, he settled for simply shutting the doors and dragging the bar in front them, for all the good that would do. Then he continued back to his crew.

Rather than spooking his team by simply appearing in their midst, Fritz decided to throw his carved pebble into the ring of light shed by the lantern. The clack of stone on stone still somehow startled Cal, causing the light to shake for a moment as he jumped.

"Just me," Fritz announced softly.

"Why not just say that?" Cal said both annoyed and embarrassed. "Instead of scaring us with rocks."

"You'll have to get used to it. Until I get a message stone, or something similar, these pebbles are the best way to send messages to you without revealing my presence," Fritz explained with an exaggerated sigh. "If only we were wealthy and could afford such things."

"We are and we can. Once we get out," Bert reminded him. "Speaking of, what did you find?"

"Right, there's some bad news and some worse news."

"I'm not sure that's how the saying goes, but give us the worse news," Bert said.

"We're in an underwater building of some sort, likely a library or archive on account of all the books," Fritz said.

"Books! How horrible, how terrible, it's downright dreadful! Truly the worst news I've ever heard," Bert bemoaned.

"That's not the worse news, idiot," Fritz said, rolling his eyes which was mirrored by Lauren. "The whole place is sinking and the lower floor is likely to flood soon."

"Oh, that is worse," Bert agreed seriously, while the others paled. "And the bad."

"The bad news is that we have nowhere to go but up. And that's probably where the other Climbers, if they exist, will be forced to go as well. Making contact with them all but an inevitability."

"Damn," George said.

"Well, all we can do is hope they're friendly, and not a bunch of scumbags," Fritz said.

Though he had little hope for that, the odd pull he had felt before had become more clear as he had neared the right staircase and now he had his suspicions it was some eerie effect of his Dusksong and Awareness working in weird concert. Working towards what he could only guess was revenge.

Maybe it was the nobles who had finally ceased their dallying and Climbed past them. If so they'd have to prepare to fight. And kill.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you're still so hopeful," Cal said drily. Fritz realised his face must have looked pretty grim for him to comment such, and so he quickly plastered a smile over his dark expression.

"I'll scout ahead, it's no use standing around and guessing," Fritz said, "If you hear a flood from the left, follow me up the right set of stairs as quick as you can."

They nodded and Fritz left them. Within moments he was sneaking up far dryer steps and found himself standing in front of another set of double doors, these were also shut tight. The handle was still loose so Fritz surmised that it must be barred as all the others had been. Though this one was barred from the other side.

Was this how this Floor was meant to be? Or was this interference of the other Climbers, locking the way behind them in some attempt to stay the flood? Fritz suspected it was the latter.

For a moment he considered creating some Stone Pits so as to reach through the frame and knock the bar free. He soon abandoned that thought, such an act would likely weaken the walls. And underwater as they were, that had to be a terrible idea. His next instinct was to try and force it open, or rather, have Bert break it. From a glance, he knew his Strength wouldn't be enough to shift it, especially if it could hold back the ocean for a time as the other had. He could hack at it with his two favoured weapons, though they weren't made for such a task and that would take far too long.

He tested one last trick, to slip a thin blade through its gaps, but the door's seams were too small, too perfect to slide his dagger between. The tough wood seemed to mock him, standing smugly in his way. At an impasse and not having a way to breach the doors himself, Fritz made to return to his huddled team.

Defeated though defiant, Fritz told the looming doors, "Wait 'til I get Bert, then we'll see who's the victor."

The clack of the pebble's fall didn't surprise anyone this time.

"Back so soon?" Bert asked.

"Indeed," Fritz replied, stepping into the light. "I have been thwarted by a door, barred beyond my means to move it, and require a Brute's arm to break open the way."

"A barred door is it? George's sword might be better for that," Bert said slapping the armoured man on the back.

"Or my flail," Cal said eagerly.

"Or my pick," Rosie added.

"Truly, our team is filled with formidable fighters," Fritz said.

Something trilled in the back of his head, and distantly he thought he heard a crack, then a low groan. Fear flooded him, which was fitting since he could hear the door below buckle and break, and the dull rushing of water.

"Run!"