Chương 157: Arc 3 - Chapter 29

The river crashed into the Climber's Yard. The great weight of water and the swiftness of the surge swept into the horde of Toad-man-alikes being held at bay by magic and blades. The powerful waves threw the beasts backwards, into or over the wall, while the various guards and Climbers were, somehow, thrown in the opposite direction, pulled in to join their fellows in the depths of the impossible tide.

At the speed the waters were rushing, Fritz was afraid that he too would be dashed upon the stone of the Spire's walls, splattered like an overripe mango. Suddenly he felt the stream slow, then the water that had been encompassing him and the others trapped alongside him, fell away in a gurgling roar. The river swiftly lost its shape and height, washing over buildings, then running down the gutters and streets, leaving those who were prepared standing while the unprepared sprawled.

With a jarring thud, Fritz's feet found the stone and he stumbled, but he kept his wits and didn't fall. He was one of the few who didn't slip, outside the Scale Guard, who had seemingly been ready for the river and he who conjured it. Those in green scale flew into action, forming up around the tall merfolk man with the golden staff, making sure to finish any beast that still lurked nearby.

Then just as the voice had ordered previously, they quickly formed their ranks and stood behind him, waiting for further commands. From where Fritz stood, glued to the spot, he could see the man in profile. Handsome, regal, blue-eyed and blond-haired. The scales that marked him as merfolk were bright silver, with a slight rainbow sheen. He carried himself tall and straight as if his back were a mast and his robes were a sail.

On his head was a crown, a thick band of bright silver studded with rainstones and its centre set with a brilliant blue diamond, glittering exquisitely. Fritz recognised him, how could he not? He'd seen him in statued relief, and before, when he was young. The King. He was here. His Majesty here in person, defending his demesne. The King stared down his strong nose at the swarm of toads that were scrambling to stand.

Most were unharmed by the wave, but it had left them in dazed disarray, clumsily clutching at their scattered weapons. In the confusion Fritz took control of himself and, seeing an advantage in seeming heroic, hauled up the unconscious Louisa, and another wounded figure in green scale over each shoulder. His legs wobbled under the added weight, but his Strength and recently adopted regimen showed their worth. He could run, but only barely. Danger Sense pierced him and a spear soared towards him.

He sidestepped it without glancing backwards and continued to move forward. More spears whistled through the air, none struck true. They either bounced off the stone around him or clattered harmlessly against green scales or other armours. The King watched on blandly, listening to the swift, soft speech of the Captain, as people picked themselves up and fled. The monsters continued their volley, but made no move to charge, they seemed to be waiting for something. Both sides were.

As quick as he could manage, Fritz fled behind the line of Scale Guards, depositing his two burdens in a doorway, propped up in its frame before turning to watch the conflict. The beasts croaked out in fury, their feeble attempts to injure the Scale Guard thwarted. One booming note silenced them. A great toad leapt over the Spire wall and landed in their midst. It stood twice as tall as its lessers and half again as wide.

Wild twisting runes, bright with silver-blue light, ran over its hideous, thickly-mottled hide. As swiftly as the Aberrant had appeared, it held up one huge knobbly hand and conjured a chunk of ice the size of a barrel. That ice swiftly stretched, thinning and lengthening into a thorny spear. As soon as it was as tall as a man, the beast hurled it at its closest, most-hated foe, the King.

Freezing fog fell from the shaft leaving a trail of sparse white cloud in its wake as it flew, fast as any arrow and deadlier by far. The King waved one ring-studded hand, a gesture of disdainful dismissal as if he were directing a petitioner to leave. Suddenly he was surrounded by a swirling dome of water. It was struck by the cold spike, freezing a section of the sphere, the circle of ice growing slowly.

With another languid gesture, that sheet of spreading ice was swept away by the water barrier, thrown back at the Aberrant. The sharp edge struck its bulbous chest and cut a light furrow in its skin. The great beast stepped back, some fear joining the hate in its glowing, bulging eyes of white. The King, who had been maintaining an air of absolute focus shook his head slightly, plainly disappointed. He raised his hand again, pointing one finger at the edge of the huddled horde.

The Aberrant boomed again and seven white-marked beasts sucked in air, distending their dimly-glowing gullets before spewing out a thick mist. Soon the beasts were half shrouded, the haze of white steadily climbing higher and creeping towards the King. Another spear of ice was formed by the Aberrant, longer, colder and sharper. Its mist-spewing minions mimicked it, summoning smaller spikes of their own. They were about to loose a rain of terribly sharp hail, but the King acted first.

A fine line of water, thin as twine sped from his fingertip. In less than an instant it struck the wall with a fierce hiss and a gout of vapour, then the King swiftly drew his still-extended finger across the toads, the string of water splitting the mist and sliding over the horde of horrible beasts. Then the hiss ceased and the Ability dissipated. The King dropped his hand. It was eerily quiet, the toad's croaks had been cut short, replaced with gurgling whines and grunts. The beasts stood still.

The rain fell, pitter-patter, and the toads dropped. Limbs, bodies and spears, clattered and thudded, having been sliced cleanly apart where the line of water had passed over them. Even the towering Aberrant, with its thrice-thick hide toppled, falling in two halves. Its great skewer of ice clunked on the ground, a hand and arm, severed at the elbow, still clutching it as it began to melt. Black blood and dark bile poured from bisected beasts.

It seeped down the street, mingled with the rain and sluggishly flowed into the clean gutters of the Upper Ring. All to be washed downstream to pollute the districts. Fritz stared on, awestruck. One Ability had slaughtered the Aberrant, its horde and ended the Break, all with one motion. A terrible fear of the merfolk man crawled up his spine. The King didn't move, he loftily observed the still twitching and crawling toad-man-alikes. He motioned to his Captain.

"Clear the streets, catch and kill any stragglers, collect the materials and bring me the Seed," he ordered. His voice was deep and his tone compelled obedience. The Captain saluted, fist over chest, then turned to his men and reiterated the commands to the readied Scale Guard. They obeyed, setting off in squads to find any breakaways or wading into the mound of mutilated monsters and hacking at any still moving beasts, putting them out of their misery.

The King turned to the crowd that was forming, those swept up by his conjured river or those simply in the area and saved by his Highness's intervention. His stern gaze glided over them, seemingly surveying the health of his subjects and the damage wrought in the yard. One of the half-drowned commoners, a merchant judging by his finery, was among the first to regain his senses and dropped to a knee in deference. All followed suit, prostrating themselves before their King.

Even Fritz swiftly knelt and solemnly bowed his head, not daring to meet the King's eyes. He surreptitiously donned his cloak of dusk now that the brightness of the sputtering stars overhead was burning out.

"Have no fear, good people of Rain City," The King said.

"I have defeated the invading beasts and their foul Aberrant. There is no further peril to you, your homes and your families. Return to them, and take joy that your King protects you." The words were meant to sound reassuring, Fritz was sure, but to him, they still had the ring of an order and his Eldritch Flame roiled and rose in response. He made sure he wasn't the first to stand or raise his head, but soon he joined the others who leapt to obey and those who called out to their King.

There were cries of pure praise and heartfelt thanks. People poured into the yard, bedraggled but excited to see their ruler. As more and more commoners joined the swiftly expanding crowd, bordering on a mob, one of the Scale Guard led them in a series of cheers, ending in a great outburst of applause. The King waved and smiled for some minutes as the people exalted him.

His was a benevolent smile, one that said he cared for the milling masses, but Fritz could see motes of red flitting anger, sparking from the man and a dark light of disdain in his eyes.

"Go," The King gently commanded the fawning crowd. They complied only when the Scale Guard started yelling and pushing the people back. Fritz avoided the press by slipping into an alley and rushing to the roofs. Peeking down on the populace, he watched as the crowd was soon dispersed and the Scale Guard began piling the beasts bodies. The King turned and with an encircling entourage of Scale Guard, he made his way toward the royal carriage that had just rolled in from the east.

The Captain who had just finished recovering the Aberrant's seed, jogged to catch up to that imposing back. Following an odd urge that seemed to be pulling him forward, Fritz stalked them from the rooftops, hiding in the shadows of chimneys and other protrusions. Focusing hard, he listened as the King spoke with a low voice. He could only just catch it over the din and rain.

"This is what you called me out for?" He asked his Captain.

"I was dining with my daughter and the Prince. Could you not have handled this? Surely you can't be lacking that much competence."

"My apologies, Your Majesty," the Captain said.

"The beasts broke free of our encirclement with their potent leaping. And their resistant hides made the Guard's efforts ineffective. If left alone they would have spread over the city, and who knows how much damage they would have wrought."

"They looked to be devourers, not destroyers, despoilers or pillagers," the King said in reprimand.

"Rather than demolishing the dwellings or stealing the wealth, they would have simply glut themselves on the flesh of the commoners. Which is easy to replace. Much unlike the respect of the Empire and my time." The Captain paled at the admonishment and the King continued.

"As this is your first blunder and accounting for the fact that I was fond of your mother. I will be lenient. However, on further Spire Breaks be sure the beasts are truly ruinous before you call upon my power."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the Captain said, properly chastised and holding out a twisted, white stone that had to be the Toad's Seed.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Good, now go attend to the clean up," The King said, plucking the Aberrant Seed from the Captain's hand and slipping it into his robe. A richly dressed servant opened the gilded door of the carriage and the King stepped up into the plush interior. The door closed on the saluting Captain. Wheels ground on stone and the carriage rolled away, pulled by the finest of white horses. Their scales gleamed wetly as they cantered down the road and toward the Palace Ring.

Once the carriage was out of sight the Captain deflated slightly and started ordering the Scale Guard around him. They set about their designated tasks and Fritz slunk away. He sat, his back to a chimney and rested for a moment, the excitement and energy of the battle leaving him in a sudden wave. He promised he'd only rest a minute or two, he needed to ensure the safety of his siblings. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

And he still had to report to Craig, no matter the circumstances. What was a Spire Break to that man anyway? Especially one that had been met and massacred in less than an hour. Fritz sighed and wondered how the Nightshark handled the Breaks of the Sunken Spire. He supposed some beasts would simply drown or be set upon by the denizens of the underground lake it resided in. But other monsters, like those toad-man-alikes, might pose more of a problem for her, and the city as a whole.

He guessed the twisting tunnels would stall them, as would the Browncoats, giving her enough time to deal with the beasts herself. Inwardly, he sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment and letting the rain fall on his upheld face. He took a tonic from a pouch on his belt and drank down its bitter contents. It had a sweet aftertaste, too sweet. He'd have to talk to Naomi about altering the flavour. He waited for the medicine to take effect which it did in less than three minutes.

Warmth pulsed up and down his limbs and he felt a heat in his chest, it was accompanied by a jittery vigour that sped and strengthened his breathing. Fritz opens his eyes, finding them clear, if a little dry. Just another one of the side effects of all these alchemical remedies. Like all things, there was a cost to be paid for the relief, and there was a limit to how much of these tonics, dusts and pills one could take before they became poison.

He was immensely appreciative then, that his bones burned away the toxins and left only the beneficial effects otherwise he might become a mess of a twitching, sickly man. Ruined and wracked by his overindulgence of the assorted remedies. Fritz stood and made his way to the orphanage.

Fritz stopped before the iron gates, they were being guarded by one of the Scale guard and there looked to be little danger. He had noticed a few dead toads on his way there, but there were no such corpses around the orphanage. Still, he had to know if every one was safe. He approached the sentry. The grizzled guard looked more bored than anything, but laid a hand on their weapon when Fritz approached from the dark, doffing his cloak of dusk.

"Who goes there?" The Guard challenged.

"Lord Hightide," Fritz responded, giving a suitably worried smile.

"State your intention," the Guard ordered sceptically.

"My siblings reside here, I was assuring myself of their safety," Fritz provided. He held out his hand and displayed his signet ring. The Scale Guard both relaxed and straightened at the sight.

"All are safe, milord,"the Guard said.

"The beasts were swept away by the King's power before they could do any harm."

"Good, there weren't any other disturbances?" Fritz asked.

"None, milord. The foundlings sleep soundly." There was a hint of warning in those words that said the guard wouldn't permit Fritz to disturb that peace. He found it admirable, if aggravating, considering he only wanted to catch a glimpse of his family, just to make sure they were well. Fritz nodded, but he wouldn't be satisfied without sure knowledge.

"Thank you. I'll depart then, no need to wake them." The Scale Guard bowed and Fritz retreated into the night, donning his cloak of dusk again and circling back to vault over the low fence. He went unnoticed. He wiped the itchy rust from his hand and made his way to the dormitories, listening. The foundlings didn't sleep as soundly as the guard professed, there were many whispered conversations, gossiping and guessing about the Spire Break.

Some were fearful and some were excited, but all had an undertone of deep worry. Some were simply crying. It was to be expected, it was a reminder of Spires and the dangers they presented. Even if one didn't Climb, the beasts could escape, find you and murder you in your own home. And for those who had already lost their parents to the Spires, the booming of the Breaks brought on such terror far more keenly. Fritz was able to find his sister's room easily and he heard her weeping.

He wanted to knock on her window, wanted to comfort her, but he could see the wards engraved on the window sill. From his recent studies into the craft, he knew it would raise an alarm if crossed or interfered with. With a heavy heart, he sighed and left her to check his brother. His room was in the boys dormitory, and though Fritz didn't hear any crying he could hear him tossing and turning in his bed. Could hear him clutching a training blade and whispering recriminations, berating himself for his fear.

Again, Fritz wanted to comfort his sibling. And again, wards thwarted his wishes. He cursed his own incompetence, and decided to redouble his efforts to reclaim his house and find these two a place to be safe. With another sigh, he turned and left. Though they were hurting, they were unharmed, and Fritz had other appointments to keep. His mood soured, bitter as squid ink and he made his way down to the districts.

He was late, of course, and Craig didn't care at all about the Spire Break he was caught by or the danger such an occurrence disgorged. And the cut-throat chose that day to spar with him personally instead of pairing him against Toby as he had been doing. Some kind of punishment for his imperfect punctuality. Fritz took his place in the ring of barrels and crates, then raised his dagger. He frowned, there was something different to his movement and his feet felt misplaced.

Craig didn't let him reflect on the change and closed in. On reflex, Fritz met the charge with his own. White and black blades clashed, and he grabbed the thug's wrist before the second dagger seeking his chest could cut him. Craig tried to shake off his grip, as he had many times before, but to both his and Fritz's surprise, he had some difficulty and had to strain to break away. As he struggled, Fritz pulled on his arm bringing him forward and nearer to Mortal Edge's point.

In a blur of black shadows Craig slipped away, but not before slashing a potentially fatal cut over Fritz's throat with a speed he couldn't follow with even his precise eyes. Fortunately, Umbral Phase saved him. And in that strange ethereal state, Craig's conjured cloak of shadows appeared more real, more solid, than it had at any other time he'd glimpsed it. It looked less like a cloak with a hood and mantle and was more a second skin of ink, pitch black and slippery.

"I told you to suppress that, cheat," Craig spat as the shadows receded.

"You're the cheat," Fritz argued.

"That shadow cloak isn't even a passive like my Ability is." Craig scowled.

"I ain't no cheat, you cheated first. Cheating a cheater is fair play. And you almost planted that knife in my heart. I'm not gonna let you kill me that easy."

"Then it's still your fault for insisting we fight with real blades," Fritz retorted. The cut-throat glared at him, but had no further argument.

"Again," Craig said, that evil light entering his eyes.

"How about we rest a moment? Cool these hot heads," Toby said in a remarkable show of wisdom.

"I'm plenty cool," Craig stated, smirking. Oily red motes dripped off him like syrup and he raised the points of his daggers. Fritz readied himself, but again his form felt wrong. Adjusting slightly, he took a taller stance, shifted his feet and straightened his back. He let his empty hand lead, palm out rather than his dagger, which had held just above his hip, coiled to strike. Craig's smirk fell away. Then he was upon Fritz, two daggers were streaking towards his chest.

Danger Sense warned him that neither attacks were feints, one was heading for his liver and the other for his gut. His empty hand snaked out, slipping around the first dagger and seizing a wrist while dragging the man forward, off balance. Fritz struck with Mortal Edge, a simple swift thrust to the man's ribs. It was the same strike as before, but more refined, less wasted movement and far harder to avoid.

Still, Craig was more experienced, skilled and far too quick to catch even when he didn't use his shadow cloak. His figure blurred and he stepped out of Fritz's strike, but only just, the edge of the bone blade slicing through his shirt. Craig contested the grip on his wrist and broke it. Fritz simply grabbed again, grasping the other arm, stopping a dagger an inch before it could cut his skin. Then Fritz spun, dodging a blade point aimed at his back and using the momentum to hip-throw the man.

Craig rolled with the force and was on his feet again in less than a heartbeat. One of Danger Sense's painful warnings didn't fade with the others, and Fritz realised he'd been cut along the waist as the man had tumbled past him. With some unspoken agreement, they paused and each stared at their respective injuries. Fritz was bleeding and the slice was an inch deep. Craig stuck his hand under his shirt and his fingers came away with the slight smudge of red.

"A draw?" Fritz offered. Craig spat.

"Not even close, you'd be dead if there were poison or Abilities at play. And I would be fine." Fritz wanted to argue that a cut was a cut, but seeing the man's bitter look, he decided to take the less deadly path.

"Fine, your win," he said.

"Again," Craig said. They exchanged blows, and the next bouts went poorly for Fritz, he took another two cuts and only gave the man a black eye in return. He had feinted a grab and then punched instead, causing Craig no little aggravation.

"This is dagger fightin', why are you two so bloody set on puchin' and throwin'?" Craig groused as he sat. He had a sheen of sweat on his brow, and his breath came harder than usual. Fritz felt some pride at this. When they had met, the man could toy with him, and perhaps he still could, but no longer would it be nearly as effortless. Sitting down himself, Fritz wondered at the new fighting style he'd slipped into. Dread fell on him like a wave.

He had the sudden, terrible worry he had accidentally learned the knife-fighting Technique Craig displayed. He didn't dare drop into his Sanctum in front of the cruel man, but desperately needed to know if he had filled his last channel and ruined his chances at attaining the Inevitable Blade in any reasonable time. Would he be forced to forget two techniques? He'd made no progress with the Arte Pugilist so far, and he barely used the Technique.

How much harder would it be to unlearn whatever the dagger Technique he'd been facing? Especially after all his time fighting with Mortal Edge.

"Craig?"

"What?"

"What's the knife Technique called?"

"You'll know it once you get it."

"Viper's fangs," Toby said. Craig scowled and stalked to the centre of the ring.

"You're up, get over here." Toby scowled back, but did as the man said. They fought, both wielding that same style. Fritz watched and his worries were somewhat allayed. The way he had been fighting bore some resemblance, but there were definitely differences that separated them. He sighed and applied some healing grease to his cuts, the one over his waist would need stitching, but for now he just bandaged it with some clean strips of linen he carried for such an eventuality.

After Toby had lost his fight, as expected, he and Fritz were set to spar with each other again. With an implied understanding, they pulled their punches as much as they could under the cruel eyes of Craig. The man would find some inventive way to punish them if they failed to at least appear to give their all to the tasks he gave them. Fritz won the first cut, then a second. He knew Toby wasn't pushing him as hard as he could, but he thought the sullen man should try to make it look less obvious.

"Stop holding back," Fritz whispered as they closed in again.

"I'm not," he hissed back, real fury in his eyes. Fritz doubted the words, but he had little time to argue with anything but his dagger's edge. Toby scored a line down Fritz's arm, which seemed to please their ostensible mentor. Again they clashed, Fritz caught Toby's wrist and with a powerful pull yanked it out of line, twisting so roughly that the dagger flew from his hand and clattered on the ground.

The other knife was easy enough to block, pushed away from Fritz's body with his elbow, and now that his arm was on the inside, he stabbed, stopping just before he'd cause any real damage, merely pricking the man's chest. With that Fritz had won their bout and the Blood Serum was his prize. For once. Normally he would never drink such a suspicious substance, but that one deep cut worried him and he felt woozy. He choked down the substance, it had a metallic taste though carried a hint of bitter tree bark.

Fritz's bones burned coldly. It wasn't unusual for his moonsilver to react to remedies and tonics, but it happening so quickly and powerfully led him to believe that it could be poisoned or maybe was simply a toxin in and of itself. Fury flooded through him and he glared at the cut-throat, he almost pounced forward to plant Mortal Edge in his heart. Craig smirked as if he suspected as much and was daring him to do so. Fritz asserted his Focus and Control and pressed down the anger.

He pocketed the vial, still sticky with the traces of the tonic, and decided to visit Naomi later. It was better to have proof than accuse the man outright without it. Fritz sighed and Craig's face dropped.

"Go work on your wardbreaking. Get out of my sight," he said. They were all too happy to comply. It was in Wardbreaker's Den that Fritz finally felt safe enough to check his Sanctum for any changes. For good or ill. Sitting in a simple wooden chair, book before him, he fell into his rainy garden, finding himself before his willow. With that, he thought up his Spire Sheet and read its silvery glyphs.

Spire Readout Name: Francis Hightide Level: 20 Path: Spy Strain: Human Sigil: Sunken Spire, Gold(10), Mer Spire, Gold(10).

Attributes Strength: 9 Agility: 9 Endurance: 9 Perception: 2 1 Focus: 1 8 Memory: 9 Advanced Attributes Awareness: 2 1 Control: 12 Dusksong: 12 Grace: 6 Activated 3/3 Stone Pit Gouge the stone, shift the ground, instant craters, holes abound.

Gloom Strike Weapon writhes, in shadow's grace, deliver foes, to night's embrace.

Lethargy Feeling tired? Getting slow? Take a rest, let it go.

Passive 3 /3 Trap Sense Pits and wire, falls and fire, discover danger, before it's dire.

Danger Sense - Evolution 1/3 Behind the boulder, up in the tree, lurking threats, can't hide from me.

Umbral Phase A shifting shadow, unmarred by blade, foes fail to harm, a formless shade.

Trait 3/3 Door Sense Beyond the portal, behind the door, a brutal death or distant shore?

Cloak of Dusk Wrap yourself in twilight's cover, what's one shadow from another?

Hand of Eldritch Flame A touch of chaos, a gift of pains, the burning hand, c hars the chains.

Path 1/3 Illusory Shadow - Evolution 2 /3 Fake darkness, mocking light? Pseudo shadows, subdue sight.

Technique 2/3 The Observations (Novice) Whittle away, scatter survive, poor prevail, covertly thrive.

Python's Fangs (Novice) Twist and curl, cling and clasp. B it t e n, bleed ing, inside your grasp.

Strain 0/3