Fritz walked up the gloomy stairway and immediately noticed a change in climate, the dry heat of the previous room had vanished, replaced by the cool humidity of night. The still air was suffused with the stale scent of decaying leaves and old soil.
He was glad to leave the overwhelming smell of the butchered fish behind, unfortunately there was still a lingering trace of pungent fish seeping from the bag he carried over his shoulder. He could hear the footsteps of Bert squelching behind him. Relief filled his chest, they had followed him, it gave him the courage to keep striding up the mouldering staircase.
The staircase’s appearance changed the further he snuck up the passage, it became a winding tunnel of intertwined roots, stones and dirt. The tunnel eventually ended in a large circular basin walled by those same gnarled roots, it’s loamy roof opened to show a strange new sky.
Searching the sky, Fritz could see the clear deep dark blue above him, not a cloud nor star to be seen, it was a surprise to not be rained upon while being outside, Fritz mused.
Hanging in the empty sky was a flawless silver moon, no scars or cracks. It radiated a soft, cool light that illuminated the basin as if by a steady low lantern. It was far larger than he’d ever seen his own moon whenever it peeked out from its rain cloud veils.
It seemed sad.
The thought slipped through Fritz's spirit, gone in a moment, fleeting, unlike this silver orb, eternal and alone.
Bert, Greg then Toby, Jane and Sid walked into the basin cautiously, flanking Fritz and looking up in that same wonder Fritz was feeling.
“Wow, outside and dry. Not a drop of rain,” Bert said in wonder.
“Yeah, it's so quiet,” Jane rejoined.
“The moon is beautiful. But so lonely,” Sid spoke in a soft voice, surprising himself and the rest of the crew.
It was quiet, Fritz also noticed, that was until a mournful howl pierced the night. The single howl was then joined by a chorus of new cries, all sad, all hungry, all lost.
The noise chilled Fritz’s blood and sent a shiver down his spine. Sweat beaded on his forehead and chest dampening his shirt. He swept his eyes along the rim of the basin, searching for the source of the cries but saw nothing. After a couple of seconds the howling cut off and the night was covered in quiet. Not quiet, mute.
“What do you think that was?” Toby whispered as if afraid of beaching the silence.
“Don’t know, some kind of monster. Reminded me of a hound,” Bert answered at a more normal volume.
“What’s a hound?” Jane asked warily.
“It's a kind of monster almost like a dog, they have fur, fangs and sharp senses, especially smell. And they hate cats,” Bert explained tensely. “They have four clawed legs and can outrun any leveless. The rich folk buy them from the Jastil merchants, who bring them from the Continent. Loyal pets, I’ve heard.”
Fritz looked to Sid who merely shrugged, who then looked back at him quizzically which he also returned with a shrug. Sid kicked at the loose earth and saw a stone that might fit his sling, he crouched and dug it out putting it into one of the bags tied to his belt. Sid continued collecting stones in this manner, filling his bag with the smooth round stones.
“We stick together, me and Greg up front Toby and Fritz in the middle, Sid, Jane take the back if you would,” Bert quietly organised them. They nodded and got into position, alert and ready to react.
As the minutes passed they heard no more sounds of monsters, only the quiet, the rustling of leaves overhead and the creaking of aged branches.
“Let’s climb out, no use staying down here, we have to find the stairs up,” Fritz suggested shuffling restlessly.
Bert nodded and pointed to a point on the root wall that looked easiest to climb, “Fritz, can you manage that climb? And be sneaky about it?”
Fritz nodded, smiling he handed off his fish blade to Toby and approached the root wall.
“Why are we sending Fritz? Isn’t Toby the sneaky one of your group?” Sid whispered.
“We’re all pretty sneaky, gotta be in our line of work. And I am the best at sneaking up on people, but Fritz has a knack for casing joints and scouting the ins and outs of places. Getting a good idea of where we are and what we’re up against is gonna be more useful than just staying quiet,” Toby reassured quietly. “Plus if he gets caught he’s great at playing bait.”
“And you’ll get his sword if he don’t play good at being bait,” Greg grumbled darkly.
Bert shushed them and they stopped speaking as Fritz started climbing the roots.
Fritz found the roots to be an easy climb with easily gripped handholds and plenty of footholds, it helped that the roots were dry, not something Fritz was used to yet. The gnarled wall was only around twelve feet tall, a short climb compared to some of the towering estates or sprawling tenements he had scaled when scouting for something to steal. Not steal, liberate, he amended.
Fritz poked his head over the lip, making sure to keep as much of his profile hidden, and looked around warily, searching for any sign of the ‘hounds.’ He saw no trace of the beasts, so he pulled himself over the edge of the roots and then flattened himself, lying face down in the dirt and fallen leaves. Fritz waited in the muted darkness and took in his surroundings.
The dark was like that of day with an oncoming storm, navigable without torch or lantern light but not without care.
Fritz could see by the soft silver glow that they were in some sort of forest, gnarled trees surrounded them on all sides casting soft shadows on the dead leaves littering the loamy soil. The trees were not particularly large or grand, but they were old, ancient, he could feel that in his bones.
He looked for the tallest climbable tree he could see. Fritz saw one not too far away, a large tree whose trunk easily breached the low canopy and measured at least fifty feet tall from what he could estimate.
It was only a couple of minutes away, so he stood up in a stealthy crouch and started quietly making his way towards it. The only hard part was trying to stay silent in this clear air. Fritz discovered that a dry twig could make a surprising amount of noise when you stepped on it, especially when unmuffled by the constant sound of rain he was used to.
Crack. Right under his boot. Fritz winced.
It seemed the sound surprised both Fritz and the ‘hound’ that had been but ten feet away, lying unnoticed amongst the roots and shadows. The creature raised its head in Fritz's direction, its nostrils flared and a strange shadow pulsed in its slitted pale grey eyes.
Fritz was sprinting in a moment, fleeing towards the basin. The uneven ground, treacherous roots and the deep ache of his calf wound threatened to stagger him; but his long practice of running along slippery roofs had made him sure-footed enough to stay running. He made it within four feet of the basin before shouting, “Found a hound!”
Fritz spun, expecting to see the creature hot on his trail, but he saw nothing but the soft shadows the trees cast. He stood tensely, his back to the basin’s edge, ready to move and scanning the gloom. One of the deeper shadows quivered. A four-legged figure about half of Fritz's height and shrouded in rippling dark lunged towards him.
While this thing was fast it was no Quicksilver Swordfish and he was no longer underwater. He waited until the last moment then rolled to the right, out of the beast's way as its iron grey fangs came snapping down within inches of his wounded leg. The hound's momentum however carried it forward and it came to a scratching, sliding halt at the lip of the basin.
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Fritz didn’t give it time to get its balance and kicked it as hard as he could in its shoulder, tipping it and pushing it off the ledge and into the waiting weapons of his crew.
It fell with whimper, crashing onto the hard roots with a sudden thump and the snapping of bone. It was pierced from all sides, a flurry of stabs from Toby and Bert, a spear each from Jane and Sid, then with a mighty crack the skull-flail Greg wielded made its impact. The beast lay still, its dark blood leaked on the roots, glistening wetly in the lonely moon's silvery light.
Worried, Fritz listened for more of the creatures, but heard nothing in the still night air save his own quick breath, which he slowed when he realised how loud it sounded in the unnatural quiet.
“Is it dead?” Fritz whispered from the top of the basin wall.
“It better be, smashed it enough,” Greg groused.
“I’m coming down, I want to see what almost ripped me to pieces,” Fritz told his gang while climbing carefully down the root wall.
“It's hairy and it's ugly, what more do you need to know?” Greg grumbled.
“I’d just like to know what I’m getting into, I found a tall tree and I’m gonna climb it and get a good view of where we are, then we can plan,” Fritz said as he walked closer to the beast's corpse.
The ‘hound’ had dark matted fur of mottled black and grey. It had a long head and a wide snout, and a powerful jaw full of fangs that were covered in a tar-like drool. It would have been as tall as Sid if it stood on two legs and was thin, wiry and emaciated. Fritz was sure he would be able to see its ribs straining against its grey skin if it weren’t covered in that stinking fur.
Its eyes, now no longer filled with life and ill intent, were that same pale grey, but were missing the shadowy pulse he observed before.
“Disgusting, are you saying the rich folk have these as pets?” Jane asked incredulously. “I know the nobles are messed up but this is way uglier than I thought they could tolerate.”
“You’re right there,” Fritz agreed. “I’ve seen one before but it didn’t look like this, it had sleeker fur, different eyes and much less fang tar.”
“Think it's venomous?” Toby inquired, clearly interested in a new toxin. Fritz recalled he was always enamoured with tales of great assassins and their myriad, mysterious poisons.
“It could be, as always I’m glad I didn’t get bitten,” Fritz replied. “Well, I’m done looking, I’m going to climb that tree and get our bearings, I’ll see you guys soon.”
“Just don’t invite another hound please,” Jane lightly teased. Fritz was already moving up the roots.
The skulking journey to the tall tree was blessedly uneventful, Fritz managed to sneak around and avoid any appallingly loud twigs. He made his way to the base of the tree and planned a route up, noting the strongest and weakest branches along the way to the top. Then moving one hand after another he began to climb the scratchy, dry bark.
Scaling this huge tree reminded him of when he was still young, back when he would climb the trees in his mother’s garden, especially the enormous Sapphire Willow in its centre. He would play a sort of game where he would pretend each branch was another floor of the Spire he was ascending. Climbing floor after floor, just like his father.
Eventually his kind but insistent mother, in her silken robes, her dark wavy hair in hasty disarray, would have him down in a heartbeat. Grabbing him with invisible currents of air and gliding him down into her warm, pale arms. She would scold him her dark brown eyes filled with worry, care and most of all love. Yes, he still remembered that love, but it brought him no warmth, just a cold dark empty that pulled and pulled.
He always said he would listen to her, not climb the willow any more, but he never would listen, he was going to climb.
Fritz climbed above the canopy and found a good vantage point with which to search for the Door.
He thought the silvered view was strangely blurry, then realised his eyes were filled with tears and he was quietly sobbing between his heavy breaths. Stupid memories, stupid sadness, stop sneaking up on me, Fritz chided himself. He closed his eyes wiped away the tears and centred himself for a moment, putting all those bitter recollections away.
Later, much later, when I can do something when I can get my vengeance, he promised.
He looked over the low canopy and saw the forest stretching all the way to the horizon, there were also patches of darkness, a deeper shadow sporadically scattered below the branches. The spots of shadow slowly moved, each following its own instinctual path.
Out in the distance to his left, Fritz spied a raised hill, bare of trees, upon which he saw a jutting slab of green-blue marble. There was nothing else of note that he could see, but now that he watched and waited he could see each spot of darkness was slowly circling the hill and that strange green stone.
Guess that’s it then, the Stairway must be there unless it's a trick, but that’s not likely on a first floor from what I remember, Fritz reasoned.
Fritz climbed down the ancient tree, making sure to favour his non-hurt leg, he was surprised at how well it held up so far but didn’t want to push his luck too far. He hoped pushing it like he had been wasn’t going to slow down how quickly it healed.
He made his way slowly through the forest, making sure to watch out for those spots of gloom he had seen from the tall tree. He made it back without a hound in tow this time, only to hear his crew bickering about something.
“Blight hounds,” Bert insisted softly.
“Tar fangs,” Toby argued back in a whisper.
“Who cares?” Greg added annoyed.
“I vote blight hounds,” called out Fritz brazenly interjecting himself into the argument.
“That's four to two, sorry them’s the rules,” Bert smiled happily getting his way.
“Fine,” Toby grunted.
"What did you find Fritz?” Bert asked seriously when Fritz had joined them in the basin.
“Good news, I think I found the Stairway, Bad news, it’s being patrolled by darkness,” Fritz informed the anxiously awaiting group.
“Patrolled by darkness? Fritz don't be a fop, just tell us what you saw,’ Toby said annoyed.
“I saw what I said. Spots of darkness slowly walking around the hill over there,” Fritz argued agitated pointing in the direction of the hill. “It’s probably these blight hounds, they have a kind of dark magic, one that makes them real hard to see, almost invisible in the shadows of all these trees.”
“So this hill is being circled by blight hounds? And blight hounds have magic as well as a poison. Got it,” Bert concluded.
“Venom,” Toby corrected sullenly.
“What?” Sid asked.
“Poison kills you when you eat it, Venom kills you when it eats you. So it’s venomous,” Toby espoused like it was some great wisdom.
“It could also be poison. Did you eat any, Toby? Please tell me you did?” Fritz pleaded.
“I didn’t. I don’t go around putting everything in my mouth, Fritz,” Toby snapped back.
“A shame, you would be more popular if you did,” Fritz ribbed. Toby glowered at the comment but fell silent at the laughs and giggles of the crew. Then he began to smile along with them. With the budding tension broken, they turned to Bert for a solid plan.
Bert thought for a full minute before speaking. “We need to cook some of the fish meat, Sid knows how to smoke fish to make it last, so we follow his lead for now. Once we got that done I think we head to the hill all sneaky like, ambush any blight hounds we come across and get out. Sound like a plan?”
They nodded.
Fritz approached Sid cautiously then asked him a question flippantly, “You learnt how to preserve fish? How’d you get the time between being a thug, a thief, a scholar and strangling me?”
Sid looked annoyed and frowned at the question. “Learnin’ to make the best of what you got is vital, stealing one big fish a week is better than trying to steal a small fish every day. And as a big fish won't last forever, you got to know how to keep it edible, you can always keep some for a bad day,” Sid said gruffly as if it all made sense to him.
Fritz thought about what Sid said and actually agreed. Really, it all came down to: big risk big reward versus same risk small reward. What Sid proposed seemed fairly sensible.
“Don’t the fishmongers notice the big fish getting stolen more than a few small fish going missing?” Fritz asked intrigued.
“They do, but they’ll eventually notice either way and I’d rather be fed than not,” Sid replied easily then shrugged.
“You know, Sid, I'm beginning to suspect you have hidden depths. First reading, now cooking I can't wait to see what secret you’ll bring out next,” Fritz complimented.
Sid looked away furtively. “Go cut some wood, we'll need a bunch of it to smoke this meat,” he said in a hoarse tone that told Fritz they didn’t want to speak anymore. He didn’t push it.
Fritz did as he was advised, gathering Bert, Greg and Toby and making their way up the root wall and over the basins lip. They started collecting fallen branches until they came across a fallen tree around Bert’s five foot nine inches of height, nearby and decided to haul it into the hole. It was a tough and sweaty process but they managed it without incident, save a couple of splinters.
Fritz was worried about the lack of flint for starting a fire but Sid turned out to be a dab hand at that too, and a fire was crackling merrily away in the centre of the basin. They fashioned the smoking racks and covers out of twine, oilcloth and fallen wood. They set them up at Sid’s instruction and then started adding on the fish fillets under Sid’s guidance.
Fritz made sure to pay special attention, this was some useful knowledge indeed.
“How long will it take?” Bert asked after they had placed the last of the fish on the rack.
“About three hours. We don’t have salt so the fish won't last as long but this will give it more than a few days of being good to eat,” Sid explained.
They waited and they chatted amongst themselves, Jane and Toby found some time to spend together alone. Greg, Bert and Sid were left watching the fish. Fritz tried to engage Sid some more in conversation but he wasn’t having it, he’d just stare into the fire and give single grunt answers or none at all.
Fritz and Bert enjoyed some time talking and boasting until Toby and Jane came back from their seclusion to hear Fritz’s great tale of The Tied Laces and Fish Hunt. He hoped to make the story comedic but it came out like some bold stunt of derring-do like you’d hear in many Spire Stories, which he supposed it was. Even Sid and Greg looked impressed, and nothing Fritz did ever impressed Greg.
After the story, Toby asked something that had seemed to be on his mind for a small while.
“Are we still inside the Spire? There’s no way all this fits in the Spire, it couldn’t have been more than thirty feet wide on the outside. This hole alone is about half of that,” Toby said baffled.
“Spires are magic, the space inside them doesn’t make sense at all, most scholars have ‘theories’ but don’t really know anything about the Spires anyway. Any knowledge that’s truly valuable is kept secret by the guilds, the nobility and the Gods themselves,” Fritz answered bitterly, letting some of his resentment show.
“Don’t say that about the Gods” muttered Greg. “I don’t want to be struck down by Far’Zael’s lightning or something.”
Fritz didn’t see the point of arguing anything about the Gods, not while they were in danger and relying on each other, and especially not with the team idiot Greg. Best keep the group in good spirits than indulge in his pastime of blasphemy.
Waiting until the fish was deemed ready by Sid, they tried some of the strips of smoked meat. The fish had an odd texture, it was grainy as well as flaky and tasted as any whitefish would except unmistakable aftertaste of iron. Still, they ate the incredibly unappetising smoked monster fish until their bellies were full then packed away the surplus.
“It's like it was sprinkled with iron filings and then cooked on a blacksmith's anvil,” Sid complained.
“Tasted fine to me,” Greg said belching loudly.
“I feel I'm getting stronger by the minute, I’ll be as big as Greg in a week,” Fritz boasted flexing his almost non-existent bicep. He was only slightly exaggerating the meat really was more filling, and he could almost feel his muscles drinking in the mana and nutrients.
“By that time Greg will be twice as big,” Bert commented.
Greg smiled at Bert pleased by the prediction. They wrapped up the last of the preparations and climbed out of the basin.
“Do you think we’ll see something as beautiful as this again?” Jane wondered out loud while staring up at the moon.
“If we climb Spires and climb together? Then yes, we’ll see plenty,” Fritz said wistfully.