"Let me heal first," Fritz said, staggering towards the floating diamond that he assumed to be the Well. The worried team parted before him, allowing him to touch the head-sized, pulsing gem.

Cool Power flowed down his arm and into his centre. And in a moment of desperate need to recover his ability to walk, he focused on the hole in his thigh, willing the energies to concentrate there rather than spread out. To his great surprise, his nudging worked, somewhat. It was like diverting one of the great gutters into a smaller stream and the restorative power soaked where he guided its refreshing magic.

The wound quickly closed, a miracle like that of a healing potion, much of the muscle that was drilled away was reknitted and regrown before his very eyes. His skin closed over, forming a white scar, like a pale moon, near-instantly. He put some weight on the limb to find it if not fully recovered then close to it. The focused healing had come at a cost though, as he found his other aches, pains and small injuries lingering.

With a sigh, he took in the room and the fearful faces around him. From the look of them they must've also taken in the healing energies as the small wounds they had been accumulating had disappeared. This Well room was domed and pure white like they were on the inside of an egg, one with a flat floor. The Well gem hovered in the centre, softly spinning and radiating waves of Power. A greedy part of him wanted to try take the multifaceted jewel but he knew it to be impossible: You couldn't take a Well out of the Spire, no matter how much you tried.

Or a chest for that matter, he thought as his eyes lay upon the pale and shivering Cal. The man moaned and clutched his chest. Fritz pulled out a vial of anti-toxin and threw it to Rosie who caught it then fed it to her brother.

"Anyone else hit by any arrows?" Fritz said. "They were poisoned."

The rest of the team shook their heads as Bert pulled out the arrow from his shoulder with a grimace then partook of the Well's healing power.

"The potion's not working!" Rosie shouted.

Fritz strode to Cal's side, noticing as he did so, that the Stairway from the previous Floor was still there, not blocked or non-existent as it usually was. He suspected that it had remained due to the presence of Climbers, no, hunters, within.

He pushed the thoughts away as he leant over Cal and inspected the hole left in his arm. It had scabbed over, but it was nowhere near the level of recovered that Fritz's own scarred over injury was. Grimacing, he attempted to feel for venom seeping outward from the wound with his Awareness. There was some there, but it was muted. The anti-toxin was already working, neutralising the worst of the weakening substance. Yet Cal still writhed and clutched at his breast.

At his centre, his Sanctum, Fritz realised.

"Something is straining his magic," Fritz muttered to himself.

"Cal! Take out the chest!" he yelled, guessing at the problem.

Cal looked at him blearily, confusedly, his face scrunched in terrible pain.

"The Treasure chest, throw it out!" Fritz ordered.

Cal's eyes widened in understanding and he screamed. The air warped around an outstretched hand and with a sucking sound the chest was spat out of his Personal Pack Ability, falling to the floor with a clunk and a clank. The man lay insensate, sweat pouring off his skin as his breaths, that had started shallow, lengthened and deepened.

Normally Fritz would have let Cal rest and recover without magical aid. Unfortunately, there was no time for that. The uneasiness was building again, right there in the back of Fritz's head, and creeping up and down his spine.

"Stamina potion, Rosie," Fritz ordered.

She nodded and frantically rummaged through her pouches, pulling free the vial containing the bubbling, translucent yellow liquid and pouring it down Cal's throat. His eyes flickered and his body relaxed. Soon he groaned and stared around in a daze.

"Bert, George, guard the Stairway," Fritz said. "Lauren prepare to burn anyone who comes through that Door while I pick the next Floor."

"What's happening?" Lauren asked as she kept an eye on the Stairway, shuffling slightly closer to it so it was within the range of her Fire Breath.

"An acquaintance. A Journeyman Climber that Bert met at the Ceph outpost," Fritz said wearily. "He took an instant disliking to me, for what reasons I could only guess. Oh, and he mentioned The Commands."

Lauren hissed and drew her weapon, holding its hilt tight and trembling slightly, while Gorge groaned and pointed his own blade at the open stairs that led down.

"What is that meant to mean?" Cal asked groggily as he sat up gingerly.

"Krakosi raider," Lauren said as if it was explanation enough.

It turned out it was explanation enough. Rosie clamped her mouth shut and Cal's face fell.

"We're dead then," Rosie said pitifully.

"Worse," Cal gulped. "Skinned, defiled and tortured."

"No. Not if I can help it," Fritz said, pouring all the grim confidence he had into his voice. "Let me look at the Doors, then we're leaving. I think we can escape: slow them down, or even lose them if we go through a Trap room."

With the others staring at the stairs, fearful but ready to fight he turned to their three ways of escape.

Fritz quickly scanned the Doors ahead of him, taking a mere moment to brush them over with his Awareness and Door Sense. The impressions were rough and clumsy, but he was able to tell one of them was indeed a Trap floor, or some sort of survival Floor like the one in the Sunken Spire with the blizzard. The other two seemed fairly safe, one was underwater and the other had some strange airiness and oddness that he didn't want to test while being stalked.

He returned to the group quickly.

"We're going through the middle Door, there will be traps, so step where I step and pay attention to my orders," Fritz commanded.

"Death by trap or by murder. What's the point?" Cal softly said. The words were mostly to himself, but in the dark silence every one heard the resignation in his tone.

"The point is, that we're still alive and we can fight and run. We're not helpless Levelers, we're Pathers one and all. And while he may be strong, he's but a man," Fritz stated earnestly.

Though his word reached their ears he could tell by the looks on their faces that they didn't reach their hearts. He cursed himself for not taking Word of Courage when it was offered, this was the perfect situation for such an Ability.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fritz caught a subtle silhouette stalking towards him. The blurred outline of the body moved slowly, silently. Fritz frowned, then, realising what he was seeing, made to call the retreat, but was interrupted.

"Well said, for a weakling," A deep voice growled from the man, shedding the shroud of shifting white and revealing his presence.

Vaa'gur was standing in their midst, gone were his rough hides, instead, he wore heavy leathers that were dark as a moonless night. A wild and snarling grin stretched across his rough features easily seen under his even rougher black beard. He lazily held a long, thick-bladed dagger that looked to be forged of lead, if not for the sense of ruin it radiated.

"Flee!" The raider boomed, the command roaring into savage laughter as he lunged towards Fritz.

While the team was caught completely unaware their recent training and brushes with death had sharpened them. After a moment's hesitation they acted, Bert and George charged while Lauren spat her fire, catching them and the raider with her clinging flames.

A ring of bone on Vaa'gur's finger glowed a dim blue, and a shimming skein of of water flowed across his form, quenching the sticky fire before it could touch his skin. The other two were not so lucky. George screamed, dropping his sword and batting at the fire covering his pauldron and scale cloak. Bert yelled as he burned, but he still lunged at the raider's back. Even if he couldn't see the attack, Vaa'gur avoided the tackle with a too-smooth sidestep.

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Seeing the raider was still rushing for him, Fritz activated his ring and drew Quicksilver, slashing it at the oncoming dagger in a desperate parry. The man's dagger met his sword and beat it away with shocking ease, nearly knocking the weapon out of Fritz's hand. Then Vaa'gur stepped in close, his coal-black eyes dancing over Fritz's armour for vulnerabilities.

No, not looking for vulnerabilities, but for parts that would cripple and cause the most pain, Fritz realised as he saw the raider's sadistic grin. The barrier saved him, the dagger's point thrown off by an inch, which was enough for Fritz to dodge back and out of the way.

With a wave of the hand, Fritz called on his Dusksong and wove his curse into the raider's flesh, then called out to his team.

"Run! Middle door! I'll be right through!"

Vaa'gur laughed and closed in on Fritz again as his team moved, Rosie hauled her brother out while Lauren began to run. Suddenly she seemed to remember the Treasure chest and turned to recover it.

A fat man sprinted up and out from the Stairway, clad in cheap leathers and swinging a sledgehammer at her breast. Lauren's fearful eyes locked onto the man, then with only a heartbeat of hesitation, she took a quick breath and exhaled, flames spewing from her open mouth.

While Vaa'gur had his magic ring, this man had no such protection and was immolated immediately, even as the hammer hit with a heavy thud and a cracking of bones. He screamed and dropped his weapon, then dropped himself, rolling in an attempt to put out the sticky, searing fire. Lauren was knocked off her feet and lay on the ground wheezing. Tears streamed from her eyes and she rolled, then crawl towards the middle Door. The pain was too much and she passed out, flopping helplessly.

Meanwhile, Fritz had been doing his best to defend himself from the raider, using every trick he knew to stall and disengage. It was for naught, however capable he thought himself, Vaa'gur had him beat in both subtlety and skill. And Strength. Fritz knew the raider, grinning bestially, was playing with him, every clash of blades would result in long, shallow cuts along his arms and legs. The wounds burned like they were poisoned, and perhaps they were, though he saw no foul fluid dripping off the clean metal of the dark dagger as it plunged towards him again and again.

Bert joined the fray, no longer on fire and punching forth in a furious, compact string of strikes. Vaa'gur dodged them all. With dread, Fritz realised the raider had Awareness and something akin to his Danger Sense. It let Vaa'gur slither between both his and Bert's attacks while scoring their skin in return.

The only thing that gave him some trouble was when Fritz shrouded Quicksilver with Gloom Strike's shadows and thrust forward. It forced the raider to focus on the blade and frown for a moment, though that didn't stop his smile, in fact, it grew wider. At the last moment, he was able to slap away the precise stab with a brutal parry while his other hand snaked out and grabbed Fritz by the throat. The raider didn't grip so hard that his windpipe was crushed, but it was tight enough that he could no longer breathe.

Fritz didn't panic, he stared at the man in his cold, black eyes, while he grasped the hilt of his bone dagger. He feigned fear, trying to scream as he struggled, as if he were completely overcome by terror. Just as the man, no, the beast, wanted. Hot, panting breaths hissed from his gleeful grimace and Fritz could feel them on his face as he was pulled closer. Shifting shadows slid out from his centre and shaded his bone blade, then he called on its cruel curse.

With a smooth, subtle movement, Fritz drew his dagger out, slashing upwards and across Vaa'gur's outstretched forearm. The raider, so intent on reading the agony and despair in his prey's face, missed the cut as it parted flesh and skittered along bone. Though he didn't miss it coming next for his heart. Vaa'gur jerked his hand, trying to snap Fritz's spine with his terrible Strength. He was thwarted by moonsilver-laced bones and he released Fritz and leapt back, out of the cursed dagger's reach.

While Fritz's neck wasn't broken that didn't mean that the parting attack didn't hurt him. He stumbled and fell, choking and wheezing. In his dire state, he looked around for his team. George had seized both Lauren and the chest under each arm and was running to the middle Door. Another man, this one thin, but also in cheap leathers, struck at him. The ill-kept blade clattered harmlessly off of the iron armour. George ignored the assault, passing into the Door and striding up its stone steps.

The thin man didn't dare follow through, seemingly realising that he'd be outnumbered on the other side.

Fritz stared away and up with blurry vision, his watery eyes taking in the scowl of Vaa'gur as he inspected his bone-deep cut as he wove between punches and kicks. While Fritz's dagger hadn't cut any vital veins it was still leaking a surprising amount of blood, trickling to the floor at a steady rate. The raiders hand shook, then he closed his fist tight. He weighed his options in a moment before retreating out of Bert's reach and constant, compact blows.

When he stepped backwards his dagger began to sweat a gooey, black substance. With a slash as quick as a viper's bite he scored Bert's arms as he attempted to pummel him. Bert hissed and withdrew as the edges of the cuts darkened and black veins began to spread outwards from the wounds.

Vaa'gur stalked backwards warily, levelling his venom-coated dagger at the man, then he rummaged through his belt pouch without letting his eyes fall from his two opponents. His chest heaved and he bled all over the items in his pouch as he searched. Though his breathing was quickened it was also deep and steady, attempting a controlled recovery. Bert, glancing between the glaring, guarded raider and the frail, fallen Fritz, decided discretion was the better part of valour and rushed to his friend's side. He picked him and his pack up and fled.

The raider looked incensed and might have followed if not for his obvious caution and sudden fatigue. As they were about to flee through the Door Vaa'gur grinned wide.

"I'm going to have a lot of fun with you two," Vaa'gur growled. "I'll get you, and all your friends. Catch them all and make you watch."

Fritz felt terror and fury war within, then he cursed the man again, feeling his shadowy mana drain away. In that moment he wished Lethargy could cause pain, could kill, and his Dusksong chimed along with the purity of his malice and hate.

The thin man attempted to bar their way, his long dagger wrapped in a sheen of sharp water.

"Not so fast, you've gotta get past me," He said.

Bert merely raised a hand and sprayed the man full in the face with acid. The man dodged only half the blast and screamed in agony as one side of his face blistered while Bert charged right past him.

Then they passed through the Door, leaving the raider and his melting minion behind.

"Are you okay," Bert asked while taking the grey stone steps two at a time.

"No," Fritz croaked. "Throat hurts."

"Other than that," Bert asked curtly.

"Yes, fine," he replied even though it wasn't exactly the truth. The lacerations stung worse than they should have, and he was worried the dagger was poisoned like the arrows had been. "You?"

"I'll be okay. My right side is pretty badly burnt, but at least the venom feels like it's meant to weaken not kill," Bert observed through gritted teeth, his arms trembling.

They breached the Stairway, and Bert quickly dropped Fritz to the ground of the square, stone brick passage they found themselves within.

The team was there and they looked terrible. Worse than that though: someone had opened the silver chest, without him and Bert present. Its great bounty was splayed on the dry and dusty ground. There was a heavy, ball-headed flail, a bastard sword made of a coppery metal, some snow white boots, a war-pick and an engraved, open-face helm. However, the things that immediately caught Fritz's eye were the three vials of thick red liquid. Well, two now seeing that one was being fed to Lauren, who lay unconscious.

She was breathing shallowly, wheezing softly with every exhalation and spots of blood collecting at the corners of her lips. With shaking hands George poured the potion into her mouth, the healing magic taking effect as soon as it touched her tongue.

Ribs creaked and snapped back into their proper places, and her eyes opened wide as she groaned then coughed. George sat heavily, clanking as he looked around in a haze. Fritz was loath to order them up and moving, but he didn't know how long they had before Vaa'gur pursued them.

He strode before them, rubbing at his bruised neck and frowning at the team.

"Did you get him?" Cal asked.

Fritz scowled and shook his head.

"He's still coming?" George nearly groaned.

He nodded while Bert added. "Fritz cut him, and he retreated 'cause he's a cowardly raider."

"If you hurt him why didn't you finish him?" Cal asked in accusation.

"It was like trying to brawl with the wind," Bert admitted with agitation, not at Cal but at himself. "I couldn't touch him."

Something occurred to Fritz, and he signed a question to Bert as to why he didn't use his Corrosive Spray on the raider.

"Because I didn't want to catch you with it too, idiot," he explained.

Abashed and not wanting to delay their retreat, Fritz signalled orders to Bert who shouted them for him.

"We have to keep moving. Follow in my footsteps, do not run ahead." He stopped. "Are you sure you want to tell them that, Fritz?"

Fritz nodded seriously so Bert continued, "Fritz says this is a Trap Floor."

"How does he know that?" Rosie blurted suspiciously.

"He has Trap Sense," Bert answered for him. "It's limited but it works like a charm."

"Trap Sense and a Danger Sense, explains a lot," Lauren muttered as she sat up gingerly with an arm wrapped around her chest. "How am I healed?" She stared at the glass vial lying beside her, the scattering of Treasures and came to the obvious conclusion. "Opened the chest. Healing potion."

"Can you move?" George asked.

"Yes," Lauren said. "Are you alright, I'm so sorry about the fire," she added, worriedly looking between the armoured man and Bert's badly blistered arm, shoulder and back.

"I'll be fine," they said, grimacing together.

Her face fell, but she nodded and stood with only a small stagger, then helped the rest as they collected the Treasures and stored them away to be dealt out later.

Fritz led the way down the brazier-lit tunnel, not bothering with his pole any longer, relying instead on his Abilities and Awareness to find the dangers ahead. He thought on his next plan, as he knew they couldn't run forever. In fact, they were already struggling to keep a good pace with all their small injuries. They'd have to fight again eventually, but as much as he wanted to ambush Vaa'gur he knew from that past battle they wouldn't stand a chance if the raider fought seriously. If that beast of a man had used deadly venom rather than weakening ones from the outset, Fritz was sure that Cal would be dead, as would he and Bert.

The knowledge was sobering, that, if not for the raider's sadistic bloodlust, they'd already be skinned corpses, piled or splattered on the white sands below. With a shudder he pushed forward, determined for now to get to the next Well and see if the Passive offered could help even the odds. Maybe something like a defensive Ability, or perhaps even a Power that would allow him to hide his strikes better or make them more precise, even the extra Attributes would be a great boon.

With an effort of Focus and Control, Fritz returned his apprehensive mind to the task at hand, scouting and leading his hurt crew. They were barely walking for a minute before he strode right up to the first hazard. It was readily apparent what would happen if you triggered the trap by stepping wrong, there were spikes in the corners between the stone bricks, ones that would spring forth like spears.

Thankfully, this was just what Trap Sense was for and Fritz was able to navigate and lead his team over the yards of hidden spikes. He hurried them across and kept moving at a brisk pace, making sure to glance over his shoulder and search for strange blurs. His unease soared for a moment and he yelled through his brutalised throat.

"Duck!"

An arrow whistled down the narrow hall and over Rosie's head as she swiftly crouched, hands over her head.

"Run," he choked out.

They did, making sure to stay behind Fritz, as he rushed through trap after trap, another one that triggered spikes from the ceiling and one that would loose poisoned darts. Arrows punctuated their retreat, Bert was hit once again while Rosie was able to dodge one by using her Interpose creatively, dodging by speeding to Fritz's side.

Five minutes of relentless pursuit and they found themselves at a crossroads. With a sigh of mixed joy and relief, he ducked behind the right side corner and pulsed his Door Sense. Two impressions returned to him. One down from where they gathered and one right across from them.

He hadn't a clue which was the real Stairway, or maybe they were both real. It wasn't unheard of for a Floor to have multiple exits, but it wasn't common either. He shook his head, he needed to make a decision. Due to the lack of information or time to collect it, it was to be a choice based entirely on luck. Unwilling to choose alone, he called a vote on which passage to take. His team panting and fearful, cast their votes without bickering. Oddly enough all the others, save Bert, voted to cross to the left-hand side, ignoring the other two options entirely. Something about the coincidence irked Fritz, unsettled him, and piqued his paranoia.

"We stay on this side, this way," Bert translated from Fritz's insistent signal.

They scowled.

"Why even call a vote?" Cal groused.

Fritz didn't bother to reply, leading them onward and down the near-identical tunnels. An explanation would have to wait until they escaped.

If they escaped.