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Mind Your Step, Draft 1, CH 07
🕑 Added 2025-09-17 13:00:04 +0000 UTCHardly anyone moved about within the walled village, was what Tibs sensed. They were in the building, and when someone exited one, they hurried to another. The sense he had was that being outside was enough to put them in danger. The fields were worked, by the partially cut wheat, which meant their fears were for the nights.
“Why’s the gate closed?” Heather asked as they approached.
“Everyone must be inside.”
“How do they know? What if a kid sneaked out when no one was looking?”
He could sense the lack of people in the field, but her question was valid. The usual village he’d been in was filled with life, people keeping the place alive and kids running everywhere. For them to prevent that from happening, to tightly control what their children did….
“We might not be able to get in,” she said, annoyed.
The bar wasn’t set on the gate, which meant…. He didn’t know what. A gate ceased to be useful if it wasn’t barred. Maybe this was their compromise, in case someone had slipped their notice?
He extended his sense.
In the forest beyond the fields, on the opposite side of the village, he sensed two hunter’s camps. The closest had a handful of people or dead animals. He couldn’t sense the faint Life essence at this distance, so could only tell they were alive by the movements. Three moved, but it didn’t tell how successful their hunts had been. The unbarred gate wasn’t for them. If they tried to reach the village now, they’d arrive well into the night.
The wall was rough lumber held in place by being dug into the ground and tied together. The gate was the same and held to the wall by thick cord. Unless it was barred, it could be opened by pushing on it from either side.
“Hello?” Heather yelled, looking at the top of the gate.
Tibs didn’t sense ledges for armed protection to look down on them. The wall was there only to keep dangers out, not let the villagers defend themselves.
“Hello?” she called again. “We’re only travelers seeking shelter and food!”
“We can pay!” He added, figuring he might as well play follow her lead, even if he knew no one was in range of their voice.
“What do we do now?” she asked him.
He looked through the gap between the gate doors. “It’s not barred.” He pushed one, letting its weight make him work at it.
“Shouldn’t we respect the closed gate?”
He shrugged. “Thief, remember? We’re not known for respecting closed doors.” He smiled. “And if they were serious about keeping people out, they should have barred it.”
He slipped in once there was enough space, and a few heartbeats later, Heather followed him reluctantly. He pushed the door closed.
“Where’s everyone?”
“Let’s find the tavern and ask them.”
“Tyrone, I don’t think we should….”
He walked away from the gate.
“What if they shoot you?” she asked once she was at his side.
“No one at the windows, no one watching for strangers, or dangers. And if someone has a bow, we’re both at risk.”
“But unlike you, I can make sure an arrow doesn’t hit me.”
“Then I’ll count on you to keep me safe.”
“What is this?” Ruppert asked.
“A village,” Tibs replied. “Ruppert’s never seen one before,” he said at Heather’s look. She rolled her eyes. “Those are houses. They’re where people live with their families. That larger building is the smithy. I think that one back there is the tavern.”
“Oh, I remember now. The people I dr—killed, they loved taverns. Drank, sang, and told stories. Also found people to do strange stuff with, but they seemed to like it. What was that?”
Tibs had ideas what the core meant, but decided against addressing it. It had no use for sex, and he didn’t feel like talking about the subject.
“I can smell the ale,” Heather said as they reached the door. It was barred, and she banged on it. “Open up for hungry and thirsty travelers.”
“Go away,” a woman yelled, and inside, everyone else moved far from the door.
“What happened here?” Tibs asked. He was used to cautious villagers, but this was fear, and that happened in response to something.
Someone approached the door. The bar was removed, and Tibs stopped Heather from pushing it. He wanted answers, not to scare these people more. The door cracked open enough for half a face to become visible. She looked at him and then Heather. The eye went wide, and the door closed.
Heather looked at him, frowning, and the obvious registered. Silver eyes weren’t natural, and with being already scared, they wouldn’t be comforting.
“Tell us what happened,” he said, “and we will leave.”
“Can’t I have some of what’s inside first?” Ruppert asked. “It smells good, and I want Ale. So many of them liked Ale, I want to try it.”
He was not risking the core getting drunk.
“Monsters,” the woman said, voice trembling.
“What kind?” he asked, while Heather rolled her eyes. Then she looked at him in surprise.
“Trolls.”
He frowned. Trolls were make-believe. Creations of bards so their heroes had something to fight. They were probably based on a dungeon creature, but he’d yet to come across a book having information on that.
Still, if there was a monster, there might be a dungeon.
“What did it look like?”
“Like a monster. Now go away.”
“Describe it, and we will.”
“Tall,” she said in exasperation. “Full of fur and teeth. They had clubs and bellowed.”
He frowned. “There was more than one?” It was rare for dungeon creatures to escape in groups. Or to leave a village standing when they passed through.
“Yes. Now go away!”
“Where did they go?”
“Go away!”
“Tell me where they went, and I will kill them.”
Heather stared at him.
The silence stretched. “No. When our hunters tried, they left their bodies broken by the storehouse and took more flour than usual.”
Heather frowned as things fell into place for him.
“Where did they go?” If their hunters were dead, then what he sensed wasn’t hunters in their camp.
“Back to the forest!”
“What direction?”
“Nadir! Now leave!”
He sensed for the storehouse and headed there. He couldn’t tell if it was short of flour or grain, but as soon as he saw the door, he confirmed it had been kicked in. There was some Fever in the dirt before it. The hunters bleeding out; he expected.
“What are you doing?” Heather asked.
“Seeing the damage the monsters caused.”
She snorted. “Monsters aren’t real.”
“They’re very real.”
She snorted again.
He couldn’t tell how long ago it had been, and nothing he saw or sensed told him what, or who, might have caused the damage.
He left the village and walked around it to head Nadir.
“Where are you going?”
“She said the monsters headed Nadir. I want to see what I can find.” One of the camps was almost full Nadir from the village.
“And what are you going to find, in the dark?”
He looked for the sun, which was now behind the trees. It would soon be too dark for her to see, or for her to believe his eyesight was so good.
“Let’s make camp against the wall. We can resume at first light.”
“Just what do you think you’re going to find?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. “That’s part of what makes this fun.”
“Even if it’s monsters?”
“You said monsters aren’t real.”
“You said they are,” she countered.
“Then we’ll have stories to tell people.”
She kept eyeing him while they made camp. He kept the fire small, even though they were away from the wheat.
“I thought you were a thief.”
“I am.”
“So why are you risking your life for these villagers?”
“Because no one else is going to help them.”
She eyed him. Then ate and retired to her tent.
He considered dealing with the closest camp in the night, but Heather wouldn’t understand the kind of monsters they were dealing with then. And he wanted her to see them, so she’d have a reason to believe him when he claimed to have clues to other camps.
Ruppert asked to be let out, then was belligerent about Tibs not doing it. Explaining that ale wouldn’t be good for a squirrel didn’t help. It wasn’t a squirrel, it countered. It was a dungeon.
Tibs settled on ignoring it and rested in preparation for the next day.
*
They set out well before first light. Heather woke him to the sound of life on the other side of the wall and an expectation the villagers wouldn’t be pleased with finding them here.
They packed up, and covered the campfire as best as they could, and Tibs finished the job using essence once they were away, ensuring that no matter how hard they looked. No one would know they’d been there.
They followed a trail going Nadir between fields, with Heather spending more time looking down than ahead of them. When they reached the treeline, Tibs kept going. He’d have to come up with something to justify how he knew where the camp was, but that was for once they were closer.
“Where are you going?” Heather asked.
“Looking for monsters,” he replied, turning to face her.
She was crouched, studying the ground. “I don’t think you’re going to find the kind of monsters you expect.” She motioned him closer. “It must have rained here too a few days ago. Made the ground soft.” She indicated the shape of a boot.
“One of the villagers?” he asked. Now that he focused on it instead of the distant camp, he could sense the way the earth was pushed down.
She shook her head. “They wear soft-soled shoes. That’s hard. And it has a heel. I thought I’d noticed it among the other prints on the trail, but it wasn’t until we were near the forest that only boots like this remained.” She motioned to others. “I’m guessing four people headed to the village, and returned carrying something.” She pointed to boots heading into the forest. “Deeper.”
“Maybe the ground was softer, more wet.”
“It’s possible. But she said how the trolls take bags of flour. Those things can’t be light.”
“So the trolls are bandits. How did you know to look for them?”
“I trained to hunt down criminals. That includes tracking them when they run into the wilderness.”
“Can you tell where to go?”
She studied the ground, then walked deeper within the trees.
They heard the bandits well before Tibs felt he needed a reason for them be more cautious. The song was off-key but filled with happiness. The smell of roasting meats reached them, and Ruppert clamored to be given some, forcing Tibs to climb a tree and secure the cage among the branches. He didn’t like not keeping it in sight, but it would get in the way of the fighting since he had to limit his actions to what someone without an element could do.
He let her have her sword, telling her he could manage until he took one off a bandit.
The camp had belonged to a hunter before the bandits took it over. Tibs saw tanning racks and ruined stacks of hides. The five bandits, three women and two men, seemed to be celebrating. Dunking tankards in an open barrel and passing them around. If he wanted to deal with them without effort, all he’d need to do was increase the corruption within the ale until it poisoned them.
They weren’t drunk, but there was enough ale left in the barrel they could reach that state soon. If they gave them the time.
With a nod, they attacked.
Heather went for the largest of the men, while Tibs for the closest armed bandit, a lean woman. She had her sword out before he reached her, and he dodged, nudging the blade out of his way, until he could grab her wrist and twist, adding a Fever etching to make the hand spasm and causing her to drop her sword.
Before he could take it, she was pummeling him, and he blocked until he could shove her away, pick the sword, and stab her when she ran at him again. Then he was dealing with the other man, who swung a large club at him. Blocking it showed the man was stronger than he looked, then Tibs nimbly dodged, cutting the man each time he managed to get close, aiming for where he sensed the largest flow of Fever along the arms and legs. Opening those always resulted with a lot of blood and the person growing too weak to keep fighting.
Heather dispatched the last bandits as his opponent dropped to a knee, letting go of the club, and then fell on his side, the little of his life essence left flowing out.
She had a few cuts on her face, and the metal under the leather on her chest was exposed.
“You good?” she asked, and he nodded. “Look around for the bags of flour, they’ll know we did the job when we bring one of them back.”
He already knew there was no flour at the camp, but he still entered the first tent, looking for something he could use to explain how he knew there were other camps. He was in the second tent when she called.
“Tyrone, take a look at this.” She had a paper on a crate. The drawings were rough. A half-circle under a line on one side, with over on the other side marked directions. At the top of the page was a house, with wheat around it. Nadir was a tent and sunrise of it, a group of them.
She tapped the house. “I think that’s the village we came from.”
He tapped a tent. “This is where we are.” He could sense camps, and now that they were closer to it, that there were more people there. “Did you find any bags of flour?” he asked, realizing this would lead them there.
She shook her head.
“I think this is where they took them. This is where they prepare to raid the village.”
“And long have they been doing this?”
He shrugged. “Until the next caravan, I guess.”
“You don’t think the villagers sent someone to the city?”
“That could be months away, and the only people there who’d have a chance of surviving a trek like that were their hunters.”
“Who are dead.” She looked at the map. “I think we should do something about that other camp.”
Tibs nodded. “There’s probably going to be more people, since they drew more than one tent.”
“How many more can they have?”
He shrugged. So long as he’d made her aware of the possibility, she could decide what she wanted to do.
“We should at least go see. If there’s too many, we can take the information to the city so they can deal with it.”
Tibs nodded.
Or he could make sure they had no choice and deal with it now.
What I'm Working With
Once on the trade road, come accross a village terrorized by bandits. Tibs goes to deal with them. Heather won’t let him do that alone. As part of the fight, Tibs will have to reveal he has and element. Then have to explain away his eyes.
Once this is resolved, proceed to a city. The core squeezes itself out of its cage to damaging consequences for it and Tibs.
This ended up being a bit more difficult to set up than I expected, with the bandit plan growing until there were hundreds of people involving spreading a forest so large it would take years to deal with all of them. And Heather not having any of taking all that time to handle this.
So I had to go back and tone things down slightly.
The escalation started out of a need of making sure Tibs and Heather had an actual challenge when they encountered the big group, and things getting out of hand.
The toned down version should still get the job done and be much more credible.
