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Stepping Wild, Draft 2, CH 95
🕑 Added 2025-08-20 13:00:06 +0000 UTCThe trail didn’t improve.
Tibs couldn’t even find evidence of Charlie’s passage, with how buried the markers were. Clearly his fighter, Marok, knew the trail well enough he hadn’t had to unearth them. They’d also been careful not to leave traces of their passage. It was impressive, considering they didn’t have elements to undo the damage setting up camp caused.
Every few days, he took the time to test another combination of elements.
Water was the element that changed his personality the least when combined with most of the others. Wood, Earth, and Purity were the exception. The other’s pull was never so strong he had trouble remaining himself.
With Wood, Water resulted in days of going around healing the trees, of chasing injured animals so he could heal them. When he caught one, he’d replaced Wood with Fever and Water had tempered that need enough he’d returned to himself. During another practice with the two elements, the animal he’d wanted to heal gored him, and Tibs had nearly let himself die, continuing the chase, because helping it had been more important than anything else.
He’d reflexively removed the corruption that built in the wound, as well as the festering, but hadn’t done anything about the bleeding, so eventually grew weak from the loss of life essence. He’d tried to suffuse himself with Purity, which only resulted in him channeling the lone element, returning him to himself.
Purity and Water caused a need to soothe and calm all the plants and animal. It was enough like only channeling Water, back before he could remain himself, that working that out with both was easier.
Water and Earth resulted in days of sitting, doing little more than being calm. Earth’s need for things to be slow playing into it. He didn’t know what pulled him out, barely recalled thinking during that time, but he’d returned to himself famished and shaking with weakness.
A test of Purity, with Air and Earth, only led to an increase of what they caused by themselves, so returning to himself was also easier.
*
Tibs sensed the group he headed towards, almost thirty people. The numbers made him reluctant to stay on the trail, but more than half were injured with untreated infections and two carried on the crates containing weapons. One of the two had so much corruption it was now eating at their life essence.
They could use his help.
And they would have information. Maybe not about anything leading a possible dungeon, but they could tell him what had caused those injuries.
He heard them before he saw them and raised his voice. “Hail travelers. I am alone and not seeking conflict.” He doubted they’d believe him, but at least now, they wouldn’t be surprised when they saw him, which would result in them turning aggressive.
The sounds dropped to that of rustling as they stopped moving. “Advance slowly!” a man yelled. “Keep your hands visible. We have crossbows at the ready.”
“I am advancing!” He kept his hands away from his body, wishing he’d taken a sword before leaving the city. Unarmed travelers were suspicious. He could make a blade, but hadn’t bothered studying leather, or worked wood, to the point he could make imitations of them.
Channeling an element would explain his lack of weapons, but he had no idea how they’d react to an adventurer. They were on a smuggler’s trail, after all, and Tibs couldn’t think of one story about someone with an element not being an adventurer. Purity would make him a cleric, but those never traveled along.
With no way to explain any of the elements, he didn’t bother.
He stopped when the man and woman with crossbows pointed at him came into view. They were among the healthier looking of the group, and they still looked like they’d been in fight against tougher opponents.
Those with injuries were easy to identify, so he said, “I know something of healing,” when they didn’t lower their guard.
“You an alchemist?” she searched beyond him.
“No, just someone who’s had to learn the ways of the wilds instead of risking the roads and those who disagree with how I…live my life. Learning which plants heal became needed after a few of those disagreements.”
“You aren’t armed,” the man said.
Tibs forced the chuckle. “A bear decided my camp was on its land and didn’t give me the time to gather my things before evicting me. I’ve been foraging.”
They exchange a concerned look.
“And you can heal our injured?” she asked.
“I can look at their injuries and do the best I can. But from what I see, what you need are clerics.”
They whispered, and Tibs didn’t bother bringing the words to him. What mattered was what they did.
They lowered the crossbows. “Any help you can give will be appreciated,” she said.
Tibs immediately absorbed the corruption and festering from all of them. He wished he could do more, especially for the two severely injured, but his Purity etchings healed too quickly to be natural, and since he could use raw Fever to undo his injuries, he’d never worked on an etching with that element. He could heal other the same way, but couldn’t control the speed or the order, so anything visible would come across as unnatural.
While he looked them over, he used Fever to heal internal damage, but that still left seven of them, on top of the two on the crates with grave, visible injuries he could do little for them without revealing he had an element.
The one way he could think to help was to cover the injuries, so they’d be too far, by the time they realized what he’d done meant magic, to object.
“I need bandages. Do you have anyone with knowledge of the plants?”
“Our herbalist was killed when…” she looked away.
That meant no one would know he brought the wrong plants. “I’ll need their mortal and pestle.” He’d asked about the attack later. “And someone with a container to carry the plants. I’ll need a fire with water boiling. There’s a river in that direction.”
The woman who was assigned to help him was the youngest of them, and she didn’t question any of the decisions he made while picking plants.
When they returned with a cloth sack full, the fire was going with a cauldron over and a barrel of water next to it. One of the man had gotten worse, in spite of Tibs’s previous help, and someone was already cleaning the leaking wounds.
“Clean any cloth you have,” he instructed as he set about mashing plants. He removed any essence he thought might cause problem, then spread them over fresh bandages before applying those over the open wounds. He added herbalism to the list of subjects to read up on. It would be a good identity when he didn’t feel like traveling as a caravan guard.
He removed the corruption and festering that had reasserted, and once the wound was covered, he made the smallest Purity etching he could think of and applied it. He had no idea what to do about the man’s high temperature. It was an aspect of Fever, the one the element was named after, but while too much could kill, books said it was needed, a part of protecting the body. He had to hope that with removing the problem, that would take care of itself.
He used up the rest of the herbs treating the two on the crates, but instead of having to stop to get more, the woman who’d accompanied him presented him with a sack of more of them. It contained the plants she’d watched him gather.
He hoped the mixing of them was confusing enough they wouldn’t attempt to treat further injuries with them.
He was treating the last by torchlight, and he didn’t have to act tired when he stopped. A Purity etching had kept the exhaustion at bay, but it wasn’t a cure for it.
The steaming broth in the mug a man handed him smelled wonderful after a day of rotting flesh and plants. “Thank you.”
They gathered around the fire, with the worst injured almost too close to it to keep the forming chill from making their conditions worse.
“I hope you won’t be offended, but what happened? I was led to believe this trail was safe from bandits and guards.”
The two who had welcomed him, who seemed to be in charge, exchanged a look. None of the other even acknowledged his question.
“It should have been safe,” the woman said. “It’s never been like this, two rainy seasons ago it was safe. There was nothing there.”
“There was,” the man said.
Tibs looked from one to the other. “There was what?”
They exchanged another look.
“For a few years now,” she said, “travelers have reported seeing…things, back on the trail. A week’s travel or so. It’s flat plain, used to be trees in the distance, but they died off. It’s where people said they saw lights.”
“Fires?” he prompted in the silence. “Camps?”
She shook her head. “Like stars over the ground. Shimmering. They call to some. Those who couldn’t resist didn’t return.”
“Call? You mean they’re curious about them and go investigate?”
“A call,” the man said. “I saw it happen. People walk to them without reason. Just a need. We warned them the last time. Still had to restrain two of them. They kept going on about how what they wanted was there. That they needed to find it. The next day, they had no idea why they’d wanted to go, or what they would find there. All they remembered was the need they had to go.”
“But that isn’t what happened this time?”
“Monster,” someone whispered.
Tibs didn’t see who, but there was no light on the word. Hadn’t been on any of the words.
“I don’t know about that,” the man said. “But it was…”
“Stone,” the previous speaker said. “Bigger than any wolves I’ve seen. Blades skipped off it. It gored Rodnick before anyone knew it was there. Lalia….” He looked at the three resting on the crates. “You saw what it did.”
“The worse of it,” the woman leader said, “was that once it injured someone, it no longer cared about them. As if it was more interested in making as many of us suffer, instead of….”
“When it stopped,” she picked up, “it was to drag Anitda away.”
“It dragged one of the dead away?” as un-animal like as the attacks they described, that was—
“I wish I’d been dead,” a woman said. “I think I was just about the only one not to get hurt during those attacks. I was pushing it back when all of a sudden, it was under my shield, bit my calf and pulled.
He saw little of her in the firelight, but from what he sensed, she was the strongest of them.
A stone creature, larger than a wolf, made it a dungeon made one, but that didn’t mean there was a dungeon nearby. The lights were tougher to explain otherwise, as was the pull to go to them.
Dungeon creatures that escaped their dungeons were always dangerous; everything he’d read about them said that. They could only escape once a dungeon made them with a sense of autonomy; like the dogs Sto made on his fourth floor. They’d been so much like ordinary dogs Tibs had been able to bribe them with Jerky. He didn’t know if Sto was exceptional in having creatures like that on his fourth floor, but even on that floor, creatures were dangerous. If one of the dogs had escaped, it would still have acted like in the dungeon, attacking anyone it came across.
That the creature injured, instead of killed, felt like a test of a Runner’s perseverance. Would they turn back or push forward? That it tried to drag someone uninjured back to…. He had no idea what that could be about.
In a dungeon, the challenges were limited to a room. Neither Sto nor Firmen had had creature take Runners from one to another.
And the lights? The pull to go to them? It had to be essence work. But as far as he knew, it could only happen within a dungeon’s influence. If there was one, could it reach to the trail without the dungeon itself being noticeable? How would a dungeon be if it was on a plain? Firmen used trees to make its room and halls.
“You’re quiet,” the man said.
“Just taking it in. I’ve heard bards sing of creatures, but always thought it was stuff they made up.”
“My advice,” the woman said, “is to turn around. The trail isn’t safe for a lone traveler.”
Someone chuckles. “Is any trail safe for someone alone? This is the wilderness. He’s been lucky to make it this far.”
“Luck’s not a thing,” Tibs said reflexively.
The man laughed. “Who told you that?”
He shrugged. “Just something we know, back home.”
“Well, luck’s how we survived this,” the woman said. “And I’m not putting it to the test again. The is the last time we’re taking this trail.”
Tibs nodded. “Is the trail harder to follow through the plain?” He’d deal with the creature and investigate the lights. The next group of smugglers to take it would only have the wild animals to worry about.
“Easier, actually,” the man said. “The grass is so trampled it barely grows over the trail.”
“You hardly need the markers once you reach the plain,” she added.
“Then I’ll stay with the forest and look for the trail on the other side.”
“You won’t make it,” she said. “Those lights probably reach further than the trail. You need someone who won’t hear the call to keep you from going to them. I’m telling you. It’s best if you come with us to Jisteiston. We’re returning to Esteskarest by the road, and we’ll keep you safe from anyone who might disagree with your life. It’s the least we owe you for the help.”
“Thank you, but I can’t afford the delay. My business is urgent.”
“It won’t happen if you follow the trail,” she stated.
“I’ll have to risk it. Death is preferable to disappointing him.”
“That doesn’t sound like someone you should head toward.”
Tibs grinned. “I could tell you what he does to me when he’s happy with me.” As he’d hoped. As with most people. Being willing to speak of things special people got up to in the open made them stop talking with him.
Of course, the few times it didn’t work meant he had to make up stories. Fortunately, Jackal and Kroseph had given him a wealth of them, and he’d, unfortunately, picked up a few more over the years.
Comments
Kindar
thank you for pointing this out. it has been corrected
Jim Smith
Duplicate "The trail didn’t improve. Tibs couldn’t even find evidence of Charlie’s passage, with how buried the markers were. Clearly his fighter" when they same [replace with saw] him
