home

search

Chapter 04

  Tibs focused on his reserve again. It was his daily essence exercise aimed at building up his ‘rank’ rather than learning new ways to use what he had.

  Back before the guild punished him and stripped him of the essence he’d had, he’d been somewhere between Rho and Lambda, although his multiple elements had made it difficult to figure out where he’d fit, especially since he hadn’t been able to tell his teacher about it. He’d also broken through stages out of desperation at not being killed much sooner than he should have been able to. He’s cracked the ‘walls’ of his reserve, and filled his channels with his essence, all the way when he had been Upsilon, instead of it being part of how a Runner became Lambda.

  Now, the density of the essence in his nearly bottomless reserve was no more than that of when he was Rho, and its ‘walls’ were unbreakable, it seemed.

  His problem was, in part, that he hadn’t had to crack them the ‘guild’ way. Bardik had been trying to kill him for protecting the dungeon. His friend, Sto. And in desperation, he’d absorbed the man’s essence. There had been so much, and his reserve had been small then, that by the time it was filled, the Darkness Rogue hadn’t felt it, so it’d kept absorbing, forcing more and more into the already filled reserve. And the pressure had cracked the walls, filling his channels with it.

  When the guild has taken his essence, draining him nearly to nothing, it had somehow undone that. And he’d spent the most of the st two decades rebuilding the strength of his essence to the point where he could force the walls to break. He’d been told how by his teacher, but he’d had to py at not already being there, instead of paying attention to the method.

  He’d read about it, but the books were written by schors, not those who’d gone through it, and they were filled with theories on the process, instead of established method that worked. The guild made sure that kind of information didn’t spread.

  So, he focused. He channeled an element, Air, this time, and pulled essence from around him into the reserve until it pushed against the walls, then tried to force more of it in.

  Those ‘walls’ weren’t real. Neither were the minuscule reserves containing essence of the elements he’d had audience with. Those he needed to ‘touch’ to transform his gigantic one from life essence to that element; and change the color of his eyes in the process. They were all ‘constructs’ of his mind. Ways for him to have a sense of what he had.

  But they weren’t real. He was aware of that, and he’d been certain that knowing it would have made this part easier.

  Another problem with the books reted not to the schors writing them, but to the fact that when it came to the elements and essence, there were no words that properly described what they were and how they worked.

  When he had to describe how water essence felt to him, he said wet, and blue, and peaceful. But the words were all approximations of something… deeper was the only term he could think for it.

  So when a schor who had spoken with uncountable number of adventurers wrote that the way to ‘break the walls down’ was to make the essence as dense is it could be until the pressure itself became too much for the walls. They weren’t lying. But it didn’t convey exactly what he needed to do. It couldn’t. There were no words for that. Only approximations of them.

  That advice had led to improvements. Tibs’s essence was denser now than when he’d escaped the guild. Based on that, he pced himself somewhere among Rho, as the guild recognized the stages of power for Runners and Adventurers.

  He’d started as Omega, when he’d been conscripted into being a Runner; before he’d gained his element. All Runners started there, and most died before gaining the strength to attempt an audience and gain their element. Upsilon has been how he’d returned from his audience with Water. Although, because of the decision he’d made during it, his training had been complicated. He’d still grown in strength enough the guild eventually recognized him as Rho, by passing a test that relied on what he could do with the essence he had, rather than how dense it was, since the guild didn’t have a way to copy his sense of people’s essence and how dense it was, as far as he’d been able to work out.

  The density increased naturally, although it seemed to have walls, another approximation, where it needed to be forced beyond. Some came as part of training the body, some as part of training the mind, and some by acting on the essence itself.

  Tibs had done with increasing the density by acting on the essence, since outside of a dungeon he hadn’t found the kind of challenge that pushed his body and mind to their limits, which was part of the requirement for the natural progress in the essence’s density.

  As far as he’d read.

  He’d first tried just pushing more; forcing what he’d done when absorbing Bardik’s essence. But he’d done that through absorbing what was around him, same as he was doing now, and that had allowed him to progress until he’d hit the first wall. And he couldn’t remember what his teacher, Alistair, and told him needed to be done, and the books were no help there. Most Adventurers just…got it.

  And he eventually did, too. Although the inspiration came from workers packing metal rings to be shipped. Before packing them in crates, some were twisted, so they became smaller rings, slightly thicker, but able to fit within the rger ones in the crate, therefore, fitting more in the same box.

  Figuring out how to ‘twist’ his essence had taken time, because essence wasn’t ‘a thing’ it was what a thing was made up, what it could be. Which were all approximation of what essence really was. He’d had to come to understand, back in Kragle Rock, under Alistair’s training, that essence was, and wasn’t, at the same time, before he’d been able to advance.

  And here, he’d had to work at making his essence do something that wasn’t part of what it was. How did he ‘twist’ something that wasn’t? But also was? He’d tried using Arcanus to change the property of the essence, but that simply gave him etchings that did nothing. And the Arcanus was ‘written’ within an etching with the essence itself. So…

  He’d had headaches for weeks trying to understand that one.

  And then, one morning, he just got it.

  He didn’t remember how it came to him, but he’d realized that if essence wasn’t, how could it take space in anything. And he’d simply pressed, and it had done something that he could only describe as twist in on itself, and he was certain the approximation came from the workers, and suddenly his reserve was half full of a denser version of his essence.

  He hadn’t been able to recreate that and make it denser still, or how to ‘un-dense’ it once his reserve was full again, in the hopes the increase would crack the walls and cause it to spill out into his channel.

  But he couldn’t stop trying, as he was now.

  He needed to become stronger than he was, than he had been, for when he figured out how to take on the guild again, and bring it down for good.

  The ridicule of the thought hit and broke his concentration.

  He couldn’t believe there had been a time when he’d thought removing the guild’s leader would be enough. They weren’t a gang, always on the edge of breaking apart, held together by their leader’s strength and the fear they engendered.

  The guild was a complex machine, where people were the cogs, and their actions the ropes that pulled it to work. There might be one person he could remove that would cause the whole thing to grind to a halt, but the guild was setup in such a way that nearly anyone could be repced by those around them.

  But as ridiculous as the idea was, he couldn’t stop looking for a way to make it happen. The guild had to be made to pay for the abuse they performed, and allowed to be performed under their watch. Its reign needed to be challenged.

  And the first step was to grow stronger. Regain what he’d had, then go beyond.

  He ‘took hold’ of the essence in his reserve, and pushed it against the ‘walls’ making it into a mesh, the way the test book he’d read described, so it would ‘interlock’ and act against the wall. Once the technique was mastered, the schor’s book had promised, the break would be achieved.

  Tibs felt like cursing them to the abyss, but he kept at it. He had ample time before the caravan reached a city with a dungeon or a library.

  * * * * *

  “What is he doing?” The whisper came from his left; a youthful voice.

  “I think he’s sleeping,” their companion whispered back; a voice just as young.

  “Guards can’t sleep,” the first one countered. “The old man in charge kicks them awake, then they have to leave.”

  Tibs shifted his attention fully. He’d sensed them approach, the same he sensed those at the edge of his pulled in range, but like them, he’d ignored these two in favor of his training. Yet another hour spent focusing and nothing to show for it.

  Many of the merchants and artisans traveled with their families, often also involved in the same trade, or helping with it. But it also meant children. Rigel had a liking for children that Graiden didn’t share. Tolerating them was the best way Tibs could describe the chief’s interaction with them.

  “Poke him with a stick,” they whispered.

  “You do it.”

  “I said it first, so you have to do it.”

  “What if it makes him angry?”

  Tibs opened his eyes and turned his head in their direction. “What if I have magic?”

  They bolted behind the tree with a scream. Then poked theirs heads out.

  “Guards don’t have magic,” the blond-haired one said in a confident tone.

  “Is that so?” Tibs smiled and pulled a copper coin from his pouch and set it rolling over his knuckles. “Come close. Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you, since you didn’t poke me with the stick.”

  “I told you we shouldn’t do it.” The other, their blond hair had a copper sheen to it, looked at their…friend? Sibling? There was a uniformity to their face that made Tibs think they were reted.

  “My Moma says that guard are bad people someone keeps in their pce.”

  Tibs made his expression quite serious. “You’re mother is very wise, but the old man is around to keep me in my pce, so you’re safe.”

  It was their turn to have a serious expression.

  The blond one look at the other, Tibs, then stepped out from behind the tree. With a suspicious expression, their companion followed, eying Tibs as if he’d used magic to get them moving.

  They watched the coins as it moved over his knuckles. With a quick jerk, he sent it up and caught it between two fingers. “If I can’t do magic.” He held the coin at their eye’s height, moving his other hand to pass between it and them. “How did I do this?” As soon as the coin was out of their view he let go, catching it and holding it in his palm.

  Their eyes went wide as his fingers reappeared, minus the coin. As a demonstration that he couldn’t have it in his hand, he turned it palm side down, tensing it to hold the coin in pce.

  “Where did it go?” the copper-sheened child asked, awed.

  “I don’t know,” Tibs replied with a baffled expression. “When I do that, the coin just…vanishes.” He studied them. “But…copper is drawn to copper. So….” With a quick motion, he ruffled the hair, then pulled the hand away amidst the protest, again holding the coin in his fingers.

  Their hands froze, fingers in the hair, then they shook them, looking around for any coins that might have dropped. Tibs kept from ughing in delight at the youthful antics.

  “How’d you do that?” the blond-haired one asked.

  “Well…” Tibs stretched the word, both for drama and to consider his answer. “What is the coin made of?”

  “Copper.” The tone made it clear they thought little of him for not knowing that.

  “But what is copper made of?”

  They exchanged a look, and the other said, with little confidence, “Metal?”

  “And what is metal?”

  His question was met with confusion.

  “Metal is an element,” he elucidated for them. “And the coin is made of the element’s essence. Everything is made of essence. The ground, the trees, the stones, the wagons, the air.” He smiled. “You.”

  “No, we’re not,” the copper-hairs one procimed. “I’m made of me.”

  “If the air is essence,” the other said, expression serious. “And the ground is essence, too. How come I can touch this.” They stomped a foot. “And not this?” They waved their hands in the air.

  Tibs smiled. “That is a very good question. It’s because the essence is—”

  “Megelo! Nirna! Get away from the man,” a woman yelled, as she ran in their direction.

  “Moma!” the blond-haired one called to her. “He’s telling us about magic.”

  “I said come here,” she ordered. Dragging their feet, they obeyed. “I am truly sorry they bothered you.” She held them close. “I’ve told them to keep away from…guards, but they’re just children. Please don’t be angry.”

  “It’s alright,” he replied in as soothing a tone he could. “I never mind children’s curiosity.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. The expression was so much like that of the copper-haired one Tibs had trouble not smiling. “You’re…not like the other guards.”

  He shrugged. “I’m just like the others. There’s nothing—”

  The deep, booming ughter interrupted him. “Don’t listen to him.” Graiden became visible, approaching from where the guard’s tents were setup. “Our Tyborg’s something special, alright. He’s a learned guard.” He leveled an accusatory gaze down on Tibs. “He knows how to read.”

  The revetion awed the children more than his disappearing coin trick.

  He shrugged again. “I had this friend, a long time ago, who insisted learning my letters would be good for me.”

  The man ughed again. “Listen to him. ‘A long time ago.’ Have you even seen twenty winters?”

  Tibs smiled. “I have, and they were very busy winters.”

  Graiden ughed again. “Well, you better be done with all that thinking, and scarring children with knowledge. I’m going to assign duties for the coming week.”

  Tibs stood. “Don’t worry,” he told the woman, who still eyed him suspiciously. “Some sweets will make them forget all that horrible knowledge I gave them.” He bowed, then walked along with the Chief of the Guards.

  “You are a strange one,” the man stated. “I don’t know anyone willing to endure them.”

  “Children should be allowed their curiosity.” Tibs wished he’d had that chance. That Mama had been there to answer all the stupid questions about the world the child he’d been would have had.

  Tibs forced himself to remember what had been done to her. What those men had done, and his promise to make them pay, once he found the city he’d lived in, then. Something easier to do if he could travel by transportation ptform.

  He fought the urge to rub his left wrist.

  “How far until Tarven?”

  “A few months still,” Graiden answered. “Are you staying on past that?”

  “I don’t know yet.” It would depend on if he could mix with the Runners there.

  The man eyes him, thinking. “If you’re leaving, don’t warn Rigel. He’s going to make a fuss. My man’s gotten it into his head that you are lucky to have around.”

  “Luck’s not a thing.”

  Graiden chuckled. “You are a strange one.”

  Rigel led the caravan, looking after the merchant’s moods, while his man looked after their safety. All Tibs had done was deal with animal that could have been problems by chasing them away as soon as they came into his range. He couldn’t do much at those distances, his etching were more effective closer to him, but animals were easily scared away.

  “Listen up, everyone,” Graiden announced when they reached the assembled guards. “For the next nine days, it’s going to be…” And assignments were distributed.

  For Tibs, it was taking charge of wagon six through nine, with Sarbe. If there was an attack, it would be their jobs to make sure the wagons formed a box in which the people could hide. Then, they’d deal with any bandits that broke through the guards and headed for their wagons or the adjacent ones.

  “And by the Abyss,” Graiden said to finish his speech, as he had the previous three times duties had been assigned. “If you have to kill one of those bastards. Make sure it’s where none of the kids can see. Got that?”

  The answering ‘yes’ was more cacophony than anything as they broke away to return to their evening.

  Tibs understood the merchants and artisans’ concerns. The men and women Graiden employed didn’t look, or in many cases, were, reputable. Caravan guards were people looking to get away from trouble they found themselves in, often because they caused it. Caravans were an easy way out of a city for someone wanted by the guards. There were too many people, and caravans were too important to be deyed.

  It fell on people like Graiden to ensure those troublemakers didn’t become so while working for Rigel.

  Seven had left the caravan within the first three days of leaving the city for causing trouble. Some were caught in the act by guards, others Graiden found. There were no ceremony. They were ordered to grab their things and leave. Or simply weren’t there in the morning. Everyone assumed they’d decided of their own accord this life wasn’t for them and nothing more was made of it.

  Tibs knew, because he’d sensed the altercation, that Graiden had killed one of them. He hadn’t found out why, so he’d kept an eye on the chief, in case he was someone who enjoyed killing. There had been no such altercation since, and Tibs had noted, the next day, how relieved one of the merchant had been on finding out a different guard was posted with their group. Tibs hadn’t found out why she’d made him uncomfortable, but he suspected it had to do with the man not having anyone else traveling with him in his wagon.

  Outside the cities, men and women like Graiden had to be the makers of the ws and their enforcers. Tibs had worked for good and bad ones in the more than a decade he’d traveled as a guard, and after three weeks, he’d decided that, even with what the man had done to the woman, Graiden was one of the better chief to work for.

  AnnouncementBottom Rung is avaible on KU: https://amzn.to/3ShmXzW

  Do you have opinions and suggestions? feel free to leave them in the comments.

  Thank you for reading this chapter.

  If you want to watch me writing this story, I do so on Twitch: https://v/thetigerwrites Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, from 8 AM to 11:30 EST

  If you want to read ahead, you can do so by finding Stepping Wild, on Ream Stories where the story is multiple chapters ahead even at the lowest tier, and the support helps ensure I can work with a minimum of real-life interruption.

Recommended Popular Novels