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Stepping Wild, Draft 2, CH 38
🕑 Added 2025-04-09 13:00:02 +0000 UTCTibs looked up as he added chunks of frozen meat to the boiling water along with the old vegetables Mother Natril had given him before
Tibs looked up as he added chunks of frozen meat to the boiling water along with the old vegetables Mother Natril had given him before he’d left for this hunting trip. She tried to convince him to stay in the village, that the cold season was not a time to be alone in the wilderness, but he’d explained he needed to get away from people, that he was used to the forests when it was covered in snow. As much as he could see the worry in her face, how much he wanted to take that away, he wouldn’t let her talk him out of more runs.
The sky was the gray of Sto stone ceilings, and he thought another storm was on its way.
He’d used air to blow the snow, already up to his knees, out of his way when he’d exited Firmen into that first storm. He’d thought it was too early for it, but he wasn’t familiar with this kingdom’s seasons. His camp had been buried. The canopy Firmen had made to keep the rain out of it hadn’t survived the weight of the snow. To avoid damaging his tent and belonging, he’d used water essence to remove it. Pulling it out, and, when his reserve was full, sending it to disperse away, and adding snow and chunks of ice in that area.
The cold had done minimal damage to the leather clothing he’d left there, and he pitied the hunter; if he’d gotten caught in the storm while trying to find Tibs. Even he, he realized, could be in danger if surprised by the storm. There was a stretch, between the village and the dungeon, where neither was within his range. He could get turned around without that to guide him.
While his elements meant the cold wouldn’t kill him, that thirst wasn’t a problem, hunger was. And with the sun hidden, he lost another way to know where to go for safety. He could exhaust himself trying to survive, then the weather would kill him.
He looked toward the village.
Would that work? The only reason he went back was to keep them from wondering that had happened to him. To come searching out of misplaced interest. But with the snow, with Mother Natril’s warning. Would anyone brave the forest for him? Not even Joman was that foolish anymore.
He could stay and focus on his runs.
It meant traveling with the caravan was out of the question.
He couldn’t return to the village once the snow melted, and no caravan would let a stranger join from the side of the road. But, if he timed it properly, he could make it to the next village, claim to have traveled from this one when he thought the weather had turned clement, been caught by more snow and barely survived to make it.
He would be looked at with suspicion, probably kept away from the others, but Tibs was used to that.
Did he need anything from the village? There was clothing from the leathersmith at Mother Natril’s. He only had a few shirts and pants in his camp, a couple of jerkins. He’d yet to come across a pack in the loot, so he’d have to make one, show it to Firmen so he could make him a better one. He didn’t need anything for protection; he had his elements. But he also had that sword and shield Firmen held for him. Those would work to explain how he’d survived the travels.
He considered the way to the road while the stew cooked, ate, then walked through the newly falling snow to do his run.
*
“Can you make a shield from planks?” Tibs asked, looking at the one he took from the boss chest. Merka was still proclaiming how they’d defeat him next time, but he didn’t feel like playing into it. He had other things on his mind.
Like the other ones, which he hadn’t paid attention to until he considered carrying one away, it was one piece of wood clearly grown into that shape. Tibs could explain how he’d found it and shaped it to be his shield. But why bother convincing suspicious strangers if he could arrive with something they immediately recognized?
“What is a plank?” the dungeon asked, and Tibs realized that ‘cut wood’ wouldn’t be enough. Could he use etchings to show them? Should he cut down a tree and make one? He’d work on the one when he was back at camp, and go for the other if he couldn’t manage anything.
*
The sun shone so hard that while it couldn’t blind him, the sparkles on the week old snow were wondrous. He hoped the weather held. This kingdom saw far more snow storms than he was used to.
*
“That’s dead wood,” Firmen said, unimpressed.
“That’s how planks are made. Just like leather is what hunters make from the hide of animals, woodcutters bring down trees and shape them into planks. Those are used to make items like shields, tables, walls.”
“How do you make a shield out of that? It’s not large enough.”
“They use more planks side by side. Use metal strapping around it, support bars at the back on which nails hold the planks.
“What are nails?”
Tibs needed a second, but he had experience with that element, and metal items were simpler than wooden one, so he etched a nail and showed it to the dungeon.
“Are you done?” Merka whined. “You’re supposed to come here so I can kill you.”
“Try to.” Tibs chuckled, standing, and placed his bracers in the alcove before putting on the amulet. He’d use Earth for this run.
*
“I don’t know that I like this,” Firmen said as Tibs explained the pack he’d made. “Giving Runners a way to carry more of my loot out doesn’t feel like it’s to my advantage.”
“You don’t have to leave it in the loot list once I have one,” Tibs pointed out. “I just need it to be better than what I can do. Leathersmithing isn’t something I’ve spent a lot of time practicing.”
“It feels like cheating to have something and hold it back.”
“Then set it for your expansion, or the one after that. I don’t think Sto included them until late on the second floor. After we started bringing them in.”
“I’ll think about it. Now, get going before Merka decides to bring the serpents here for you to fight.”
“They can do that?”
“Only if I agree.” The tone made it clear Firmen was considering it. So Tibs took the purity amulet and set about doing the run.
*
“Tibs?” Merka asked as the last of the serpent melted away under the moss. “Why are you showing those things to Firmen? They aren’t really going to add anything to the runs.”
He considered the leather armor from the chest. Could he justify something like it when he showed up at the next village? “They’re for me. I told them that.” It was made of the clothing Tibs had brought, but with harder leather, and in section to account for movement.
“And why do you need them? You don’t take that much loot, and you never bother with the shields anymore.”
“They’re for when I’ll head out.” But would it be believable for someone from this village to have such armor?
“You’re leaving?”
“Eventually, I have places to go.” He decided it would be too much trouble and left it there. “But that’s not until the cold season almost done.” He smiled. “And you might kill me before that.”
“Yes, I might,” they said with little enthusiasm.
*
Tibs etched the barrier of light; spirals, waves and lines. Qu, Dhu and Ool as the Arcanus connecting them, causing the dissipation to be stronger and the spikes of essence Merka sent at him broke into harmless mist.
“You need to make them stronger,” he said, moving, looking for an opening to cut off one of the three heads.
“That was as much essence as I had into the attack,” they replied.
“Did you use Fey where I showed you to increase the impact?” he couldn’t tell what essence they had used. That, in combination with the fight, had kept him from sensing the details of the Arcanus. “Rys on each side to magnify the effect?” the head moved to stay out of his way, but didn’t attack.
“Yes,” they said without enthusiasm. He’d noticed that lack over the previous runs.
“Firmen, how about letting Merka have more essence?”
“No.”
He stopped moving, an eye on the serpent, but confident they wouldn’t attack.
“I don’t think they’ll complain about you bending the rules.”
The snort lacked Merka’s usual vigor. “We’re well past bending them. The only reason I’ve allowed Firmen to keep increasing the essence I have is that there’s no one to disadvantage in making this harder for you.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He suspected the reason. Merka’s behavior hinted at it.
“I don’t have more essence for Merka to use,” Firmen stated. “You have done so many runs recently that I haven’t had time to regenerate any. Other than what is reserved for my expansion, I don’t have enough to keep up with you.”
He nodded. It was why he’d moved on to teaching Merka everything he knew about the Arcanus. It let them make more efficient use of the essence they had. But there were limits. Limits someone at the edge of Lambda, with knowledge of Runner far more advanced, surpassed.
“Do you want to finish the fight?”
“Is there a point?” Merka asked. “That was my strongest attack, and you barely used any of the reserve to decimate it. Go back to the village for a while and when you come back, we’ll have enough essence to give you a proper challenge.”
He sat against the wall. “I can’t. No one can survive the cold season for these months.”
“Then,” Firmen said. “Stay in your camp, hunt, do the things you do when you rest.”
But for how long? Going back to the town usually meant at least a week, sometimes two. But as drained as the dungeon was, would it take longer? He’d hoped they could keep up long enough for the weather to warm. Had expected that to start already. Did the early start to the cold season mean it had a late end? He’d read about places where it never ended.
“Let me try something.”
He closed his eyes and focused on his reserve. The walls weren’t walls, just a construct of his mind to let him understand that essence was contained. He willed them away so the essence could spill out into his channels. So he could graduate
He willed harder.
He tried to will the essence itself to push against the walls, to break them. To shatter them.
He sagged.
It had happened when he’d been fighting for his life, but he knew that wasn’t required. Rho Runners graduated to Lambda once they were able to suffuse themselves. They were trained in how to make that happen.
Training he’d received and hadn’t paid attention to because he’d already been able. Training he hadn’t been able to find books about with usable information on recreating them.
Why couldn’t he do this?
“What were you doing?” Merka asked.
“Trying to graduate to Lambda. There are tests to show we’re ready. This one is about getting the essence to burst out of my core so it will flow through my channels.”
“It sounds like pushing through to my second expansion,” Firmen said. “I needed to have a lot of every essence, then I…pushed it out and…it was hard, but then there was more of me.”
“But that makes Firmen’s expansion Rho, doesn’t it?” Merka said.
“The guild considers it Upsilon, since they expect us to move there once we have our element.”
“And you say you are trying to reach Lambda. If I understand the ranks, it’s Omega, Upsilon, Rho, and then Lambda?”
He nodded.
“Can we really push you anymore?” Firmen asked, sounding like he was only now realizing the implication.
Tibs chuckled sadly.
“Once I’ve rebuilt the reserve,” they said confidently.
He shook his head. They might be able to help for a while, but in the end, it would always be a losing situation for Firmen and Merka.
He didn’t want to leave. He had fun with the runs. But he couldn’t be a drain on them. Firmen would grow over time, and Tibs could come back in years if he hadn’t worked out how to graduate by then.
“I need a favor, Firmen.” He’d been working on this plan for a while, and there was no postponing it anymore.
“I’m listening.”
*
Tibs looked at the tiles, considered taking the time to check them, as he should do, as an Upsilon Runner should do.
He backed to the entrance and ran. His leap took him past a quarter of the room, and he sent water ahead of him, icing it into a slide that took him to the other side.
Too easy.
He’d known it would be, but Firmen had insisted. The week he’d needed to make what Tibs needed had let him rebuild some of his reserve, and he was confident they could challenge him, help him graduate.
Three Woodling stepped out of the trees. He dispatched them only with sword and shield.
The mud room he rended ineffective by turning the mud solid around the wooden platform. He used essence to fight the animal in their room; they were now clearly monsters, but ice spikes and pulling the water out of them easily killed most. Some he drowned just to do something different.
He stepped into the boss room, stopping in the center when Merka didn’t show themselves.
“I don’t think there’s a point,” they said as he was about to call out to them. “Tibs has an amulet full of essence and he’s holding as much around him. Unless you’re willing to give me essence from the expansion, I’m sorry Firmen. He’s grown beyond us.”
“I thought…” the dungeon trailed off. “I was hoping you could stay longer.”
“Me too,” he said. He released the essence he’d held, keeping the water from falling on him. “Once you’re done making what I need, I’ll be on my way.”
“I’m done. It’s waiting for you in the entrance’s alcove.”
The walk was melancholic. Remembering the fun he’d had, the times the dungeon and Merka nearly killed him. The exhilaration of tough runs.
The alcove was already open, and next to his bracers was a pack held upright by the contents. It was an improvement on the one he’d taken from the cache, but still looked like something Tibs would have made from material he’d find in the forest. Straight branches to hold the leather. Ropes of woven fibers. Bone clasps to keep the flap in place and the rain out of the content.
He reached for his bracers as he studied the essence of the wood and froze on touching them.
“What did you do?” He hadn’t sensed the weave until he made contact, it’s magic protected it like that, and while he couldn’t sense most of the essences used in making the bracers, he had studied it over the years trying to work out how to undo the damage time did to the weave.
Damage that was now gone.
But there was more.
“Merka suggested it. A thank you for what you did for us. The runs, teaching us what you knew. I don’t know when another Runner will come, but you’ve helped us be ready for them. To make their run interesting. I also enjoyed working out how your friend made the weave that makes the bracers and its reserves. I think I’ll be able to make use that one day.”
The bracers looked exactly as they had before. Cracked leather with a slight sheen of applied oil earlier that day. The end of one leather cord was chewed through. A rat getting into the spare cords years ago that he’d never bothered replacing.
But the weave was different beyond being renewed. Instead of eight reserves, there were twenty-one. One for each of the elements.
“Thank you.” He held them against his chest. “You have no idea what it means to me that I won’t lose them to time anymore.”
“You’re welcome Tibs. It’s been a pleasure to have you as my first Runner.”
*
Packing his things was quick. He left anything he didn’t need for Firmen to absorb or the forest to reclaim.
He trekked three-quarters of the way to the village, Sunriseward. He cleared the snow from a space between trees and remade a camp. He took the bones out of the pack and laid them in the tent, before collapsing it. Then he covered everything with enough snow to match the surroundings.
He doubted his body would ever be discovered, but if it was. The villagers would finally have confirmation Tyborg of the Wild was as mortal as any of them.
Then he oriented himself towards the road and set forth to reach it, then follow it to the next village.
Author's Thoughts
this one went very much the way draft one did. I can't recall and actual changed other than adjusting details resulting from previous chapters. the one that comes to mind is the shift in Firmen trying to convince Tibs to try again, where in draft 1, it was Tibs suggesting one last try.
