Octophobia
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Spire's Spite Chapter 23
🕑 Added 2024-01-29 02:00:02 +0000 UTCThe open door led into a darkness that was suddenly banished, it lit up as a host of golden lanterns bathed the entrance hall in orange and yellow light. The hall was large, far too large to fit the manor’s outside dimensions and hung with bright tapestries and paintings of the surrounding lands.
Hung from the tall ivory ceiling there was a chandelier of gold and gleaming gems of all colours glowing softly in strobing patterns. The dark wood floors were covered with a rug the purple of a night at sunset studded with golden stars that twinkled in the myriad lights.
There were staircases that led up to the higher levels but what grabbed Fritz’s attention was the tall archway that led into a throne room set with two thrones that were near twins in shape but not of make, with one of ivory and one of dark stone. Each had a disk of gold at their heads as if to give the impression of a halo, or perhaps the sun behind those who sat upon the thrones.
Only one of the ornate chairs had an occupant, but from where he was he couldn’t penetrate whatever gloom hindered his vision, blanketing the room beyond 6in shadow. Fritz didn’t dare step forward until he was expressly asked to.
He remembered a running theme from the stories. Mortals being the lowly creatures that they are, were allowed three transgressions, far too few in Fritz opinion. After that Faeries could take offence at our rudeness and seek satisfaction or recompense, usually in the form of a curse or some other unspeakable fate. Faeries of course are expected to know better, but could risk being rude to a mortal if the mortal in question didn’t know the customs. Which they wouldn't since Faerie politics, laws and hierarchy were nonsense to those with rational minds.
Fritz hoped he could recall enough and tread lightly around their social traps to, maybe not outmanoeuvre, but gain an advantage with which he could either escape with Bert or heal his friend from his curse. If you needed to break curses who better to seek counsel from than a Faerie? Fritz reflected. He also bemoaned the fact none of his Abilities would be of any use here.
Waiting for a summons, Fritz stood as still and silent as a stone, a very tired, wobbly stone. He tried to gather as much information as possible, trying to gleam the personality of perhaps even the identity of the Faerie within the throne room. Must it be a powerful noble to have a manor like this? Or maybe all Faeries had such dwellings?Whatever the case was, it was of utmost importance to be polite, reverent even, if he could manage it.
“You may approach mortal,” The sonorous voice suggested sending a tingling sensation over his legs, making them want, no need, to move.
Fritz did so walking cautiously through the entrance hall, his boots thudding on the plush purple rug. He winced, he hoped he hadn’t already been rude by tracking dirt into the pristine room. Resolute, he ploughed on ahead dragging Bert behind him the whole while. He stopped at the entrance of the throne room, not willing to go in without express permission, again. ‘Approach’ did not mean ‘I will grant you an audience’ after all.
The was a low chuckle from the shadowed throne, like the purring of some great cat, that sent waves of embarrassment and excitement rippling through his body.
“What a cautious and careful little thing you are. So precious, shivering like a kitten in a storm. Enter and you may have an Audience,” The shadowed throne, or whatever sat upon it offered. Fritz didn’t need to be asked twice, so strode forward pulling Bert along. The shadows parted as he approached, but still, he could not see the speaker nor the pixie seneschal.
The room was filled with the scent of some exotic flower he couldn’t put a name to, it was intoxicating and he had to shake his head and breathe through his mouth to avoid its stupefying effect.
He struggled forward until he reached a dais the thrones sat upon then he bowed regally, just as he had been taught to by his etiquette tutor and his mother. He held the pose and would hold it for as long as it took to be acknowledged by the Faerie.
“Rise and look upon me, Mortal,” The voice allowed. Whatever Fritz had been expecting, what sat in the throne wasn’t quite it. He had expected an exquisitely tall and powerfully graceful woman in regal dress and wearing a lavish crown of gold. He had expected beauty and regal features, and in that he wasn’t disappointed but tall? Powerful? She didn’t look either of those things.
She was short, couldn’t be more than five feet tall had a slight frame, wore no crown or jewellery save a golden band on her finger studded with a gleaming ember. Her skin was a dark grey, reminiscent of storm clouds, and littered with flecks of shining silver on the bridge of her nose, her high cheekbones and scattered across her shoulders. Wavy hair of raven black silk tumbled over her glittering shoulders and lay over the straps of her similarly black gossamer dress.
The fabric both clung and billowed in strange ways, teasing the eye, hinting that you might be able to see through its shadowy strands if you just stared hard enough. That's not what caught Fritz's attention though, it was her eyes, too large to be human and as dark and as glossy as the obsidian throne she sat upon. She smiled beautifully.Fritz lost himself in those endless, timeless depths. After a moment or a minute, he couldn’t tell, he pulled himself back, noticing the overly sharp canines in the woman’s smile.
Fritz smiled back in what he was sure was an idiot's grin. He couldn’t help it, she was enchanting and as alien as she surely was, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“Tell me mortal what is thy name?” She demanded. Fritz wanted to tell the voice his name, his story anything it wanted to know. He restrained himself before he spoke out of turn, or worse, made a fool of himself before this lovely lady, and pondered his answer.
“I am known as Fritz, most beautiful one,” Fritz replied formally, trying not to sweat too much or get tongue-tied in front of the Faerie before him. “And how should this lowly mortal address you?”
The lady sitting on the dark throne smiled even brighter at his humility and reverence, she seemed to take great joy in the compliments in both word and demeanour.
“I am called The Duskmoth, Princess of Twilight and the Duchess of the Setting Sun,” She recited luxuriously. “And many other things besides, but we shall not talk of that, not yet” She added winking with a mischievous smile.
Fritz blinked. Stunned into silence, for once Bert would say. He was glad Bert was not awake for this, he’d be teased endlessly for it, or maybe his best friend would be just as gobsmacked.
“So, Fritz, what cause have you to trespass in my lands and then seek my aid through Amy?” She inquired expectantly, adjusting her sitting position so she sat sideways on the throne with her bare legs dangling over the armrest distractingly.
“Amy?” Fritz asked stupidly.
“My little pixie seneschal, isn’t she lovely and oh so sweet, so sweet as to help a mortal when she could be playing,” The Duskmoth explained as if talking about a nice piece of jewellery she owned.
“Answer my question, Fritz,” She softly ordered as Fritz stood dumbfounded.
“I did not intend to trespass, I went through a Hidden Door in a Spire and ended up in this magnificent realm,” Fritz explained hoping flattery would ingratiate the Faerie to him.
The Faerie went still and stared into the air for a moment before responding, “Yes, a Spire has connected itself to my realm. Oh, and it’s a nasty little thing isn’t it,” She said as her fine features wrinkled in disgust. Fritz suppressed his curiosity about the Spire, struggling to keep his, likely impertinent, questions to himself as the Duskmoth's attention turned back to him and she looked over him critically, “Pathless, you’ve done well to survive.”
“Thank you, for the compliment, I am unworthy of your grace,” Fritz flattered.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” She reproached frowning slightly “But you’re welcome.”
Fritz was waiting for such an opportunity and so leapt on it quickly, speaking rapidly, “We accept your welcome gratefully, and offer you gifts that number three.” Fritz had intoned a rhyme from one of the stories he had read, hoping it wasn’t just nonsense and actually claimed the hospitality of the Faerie as he intended.
One of the big customs Faeries held was a close observation of the obligations of hospitality and the strict duties of a good host. Claiming hospitality was of course a double-edged sword as you had to be a good guest but the reward here outweighed the risk in Fritz’s mind, he still had his mortal ignorance to shield him from the more eldritch or arcane of the mistakes he could make. He hoped.
The Duskmoth sat unmoving, still as a statue staring at him with her black alien gaze. In expectation, he realised after a moment. After a thrill of excitement that his ploy may have worked he said, “One moment, I shall fetch the gifts from my pack.” She tilted her head in a small sign of acquiescence and rapped her black sharply-pointed nails impatiently on the armrest of her throne.
He hadn’t noticed those talons before, he supposed he wasn’t allowed to notice them before, Faeries were masters of illusions and enchantments after all. But now that he saw them he suspected those nails were razor sharp and would easily part his flesh from his bone. A small but very real threat that if he displeased her those black razor points would find his skin and rend him to pieces.
He had no idea right now what to give as he had very little save his fish blade and that was the last thing he’d part with. He made to turn then thought better of it, probably rude, then unslung his oilcloth bag placing it in front of him and rummaging around in its depths. The first thing he found that could serve as a gift was his amber stone, they had another so it wasn’t so bad if they lost one.
There was also Greg’s black iron helmet but he knew how Faeries hated iron and had a complete aversion to the metal. Skulg-waste would be a better gift to a Faerie than iron, but not by much.
He pulled out the amber stone and offered it to her in both his hands bowing as he did so. She took it with a small smile on her face and peered into its swirling light, “Pretty, like the dawn.” She made a small motion with her hand and the stone disappeared, gone in a blink of an eye. “Once it’s been cut and polished it shall be added to the chandelier,” She announced cheerily, obviously pleased.
She turned her gaze back to Fritz awaiting his next gift, which he had luckily discovered as it lay forgotten at the base of his pack under the helm and in its waxpaper wrapper. He held out the two quarts ovals with the copper circles in their centres. “The eyes of a Quicksilver Swordfish that I personally hunted,” Fritz proclaimed proudly.
The Duskmoth’s smile widened and she clapped in giddy appreciation taking them into her arms happily. “How novel a paired gift, it's a prize from a hunt as well, how wonderful,” She said as she placed the quartz orbs into her lap and pat them gently, swirling a sharp nail over the eye’s surface.
She stared again expectantly, Fritz stood confused for a moment before he concluded that the eyes counted as only one gift. I messed up, I should have split them up or something. Nonsense she would have thought you a miser if you split up one gift into two. It was the right move, Fritz argued with himself.
She eyed his fish blade greedily, but unwilling to give it up Fritz desperately searched for the third gift. He tapped his belt in a nervous gesture and nearly cut himself on the blight hound fang that was tucked into it. Not thinking he offered it to the Duskmoth saying “The fang of a blight hound.”
She didn’t make to take it and, in fact, looked unimpressed and maybe even insulted. Fritz's thoughts raced, this was not the outcome he had expected. She seemed to like the story attached to the Quicksilver Swordfish’s eyes almost as much as the eyes themselves, maybe if I add the feats I accomplished with this fang, maybe it might change its worth to her?
Seeing no other option he rushed to explain, "I pried it from a blight hound I slew in single combat, then when my life was in danger from a human foe I plunged into his heart, saving me.” Sure it was embellished but who would know, not a Faerie hidden in its strange realm.
The Duskmoth smiled knowingly, and Fritz thought he had caused offence by lying right to her face. Then she was standing right before him, so quick he didn’t see her move, and she had unfurled wings like that of a moth that were coloured in shifting patterns all the shades of the setting sun. The oranges, reds and purples swirled in his vision. Her face was inches from his, and her slender body even closer, the exotic floral scent intensified and his mind whirled in desire.
His heart started to pound and he suppressed a scream as she slowly reached up her sharp talons to his face. The sharp points gently trailed over his cheek and down the side of his neck, he knew not to flinch so he bit down on the terror that threatened to take control of his throat. His legs wanted to tremble but he held himself steady, locking his knees lest they fail him.
After peering into his eyes for what could have been nights, she plucked the fang out of his hand and winked. She turned with a flourish of shadowy fabric and dazzling wings then was sitting on her throne again, a languid smile on her exquisite silvery lips.
“You’re gifts of a pretty bauble, your trophy of the hunt and a fang wrapped in a half-truth have pleased me, Fritz. You are welcome in my realm,” She declared to the still-reeling Fritz.
Fritz bowed again, stalling for time to gather his scattered psyche and shake off the haze of craving that still spun his head. One particular notion stood out in his mind, help Bert, it commanded.
“Thankyyyou, Princesss,” He slurred haltingly, then after freeing his tongue from its stupor, spoke in a clearer cadence. “However, I came for help, not for me but for my boon companion, Bert,” Fritz motioned and stepped to the side so the Duskmoth could gaze upon Bert’s bundled-up form.
“Can you help him?” Fritz pleaded not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice. A mistake he knew, but he was too tired, too dizzy and just too damn done with the subtleties of Faerie etiquette.
The Duskmoth vanished from her throne and was kneeling at Bert’s side. With a slight twitch of her finger, the bundle undid itself and turned her alien stare to his wounds, taking in his condition and seemingly looking at something Fritz couldn’t see.
“No, I cannot, my Power lies entirely in the other direction, but I could ease his passing if you are not capable of the mercy,” She whispered gently.
Fritz heaved, letting loose a sob, tears blurring his vision, he had been holding onto a wild hope that he could save his friend, his only friend. Now it was crumbling, again, just like in the Spire room. Before he could really fall into despair a trilling, angry voice piped up. Fritz looked up, expecting to be menaced by the tiny seneschal but instead he saw her confronting her lady. Whistling and warbling in, maybe, reproach and pointing at the ivory throne.
“Hush, Amy, I know she may be able to help,” The Duskmoth replied calmly. “Interesting for you to care so much about a mortal's plight, maybe it’s almost time for your sojourn?” She added with a small smirk. This quieted the pixie causing her to shake her head with fear in her fine features.
The Duskmoth spun to face Fritz, a sombre cast to her visage. “I can call on my opposite and lover, she could help, but to call on her would require a favour. Do you understand, Fritz?”
He did, somewhat, the trading of favours was a common thing in the gutters as well, with coin so hard to come by and even harder to keep. A debt in the gutter though might not be repaid, whereas a debt to a Faerie must be lest there be serious consequences, being cursed horribly being the least of the horrors that could be inflicted.
How much could I give? What will they ask of me? Will it even matter without Bert? Fritz resolved, he knew it was foolish to get embroiled with Faeries and knew he had another choice, to leave and find the way out. But it was a risk, a risk that was a gamble for Bert’s life, one Bert might make on his own if he had a choice but not one Fritz was willing to make for him.
“I understand. Please call her,” Fritz said, sealing the pact. The Duskmoth smiled her bright fangs full on display in cruel pleasure. She fingered her ring and sang. However powerful and alluring her voice was in speech it was infinitely more so in song. The low sensuous voice filled the room, then beyond seeking the horizon, then the stars. Although Fritz couldn’t make out the words he was left with a feeling of nostalgia, loss, grief and the ending of all things. A sunset.
The song continued, filling him with complex emotions he didn’t have the wherewithal to fully suppress, so he wept silently. He heard a new note, a surprising uplifting melody joined the Duskmoth’s song, a song, he realised, that was half a duet. The joyful refrain built and built until the song seemed to be only two conflicting chords opposing each otherbut then melded and struck such a beautiful harmony he was left reeling, stunned, falling.
A flash of light blinded Fritz as he plummeted but he was caught before he hit the ground. Squinting from the sudden brightness he saw a tall figure dressed in shimmering burnished yellow who held him steady with one strong, pale as snow arm. She was different but no less beautiful than the Duskmoth. Her hair was glittering gold and her eyes glowed with the radiance of the coming dawn. She was glorious and the sight of her lifted Fritz's spirit just as she lifted his body, easily setting him on his feet.
“Why do you sing for me, darling?” The slightly glowing figure intoned in a resonant high voice, like the blast of a trumpet.
“Oh, it has been far too long, my love,” The Duskmoth responded in delight, shooing Fritz out of the way to embrace the newly arrived woman.
They clung to each other tightly, like a day lit tree with a dark vine growing on its shadowed trunk. He could see the bright woman’s wings unfurl, two great bird wings with feathers of cascading yellow and orange. As they intertwined he could see their differences in stark relief. The glowing woman was muscular where the Duskmoth was slender, tall where she was short and life as the other was death. Beginning and End.
They held each other lovingly, now only humming their song softly. The Duskmoth nuzzled in the other's arms while she stroked her raven-dark hair with hands of pure ivory. They stayed like this for some time until Fritz in his impatience coughed politely. Startled they turned their heads to him in unison then drifted apart slowly, only continuing to intertwine their fingers. He noticed that the bright figure was also wearing a ring, one of silver set with a dark gem that seemed to pull at the surrounding light.
“Unfortunately, my love, I did not only call you hither for a reunion, but a mortal in need of help. He has promised me a favour in return of course but as I am not of the Day it is to you I must turn,” She said primly, squeezing the woman’s hand.
“Greetings, Mortal, I am known as the Dawndove, Princess of Twilight and the Duchess of the Coming Sun, by what may I call you?” The Dawndove asked her voice ringing out like a bell.
“I am called Fritz by many, but is it true you can help my friend?” Fritz asked in awe.
“You ask for help for your friend and not for yourself? And you bargained a favour to my darling Duskmoth?” She asked intrigued.
“Yes, I can't go on without him, he’s my only friend, can you help?” Fritz pleaded.
“We shall see.”
