Dungeon Runner
The Tiger Writes
sciencefiction
sciencefiction
31K5
Tibs survived by picking pockets; until he's caught.
Instead of losing a hand, he's sent away and told he must now survive a dungeon.
How is a kid who knew nothing more than his ...Bottom Rung, Chapter 54
Immediately upon starting the attack, Tibs decided this wouldn't be fun. The Ratlings reacted to their presence the instant they crossed the threshold, screeching as they pulled clubs and knives made of bones. Many more ran out of the tents, and quickly it was clear the near dozen Tibs thought they'd be dealing with was more like three times that.
He followed Jackal, slicing at any that made it around the fighter while he was busy, with Khumdar was by Tibs's side using the two halves of his staff as clubs. Air current gave him an indication of where Carina aimed at and the occasional explosion told him Mez was still in the fight.
Then things changed for Tibs with a warning yell from the cleric, an impact, and staring at the ratty face of the Ratling that had tackled Tibs as he fell between tents and onto his back. It was just like the rats from his nightmares, beady eyes, whiskers and sharp teeth trying to bite his face as his arm against its neck held it back. He got over his terror and planted a knife into its side over and over until he was covered with stony rubble.
Tibs shuddered, trying to get himself up. The fighting wasn't over, but Jackal had been right. Those things were creepy. They'd been terrifying enough when they were small, and now they were nearly as tall as Tibs was. He shuddered again. If there had been two of them, Sto might have eaten him.
"I hate those things," Tibs whispered, getting to his feet. Thankfully, Sto and Ganny remained quiet.
He inched his way to the path; the fighting had moved away. From what Tibs could tell from the quantity of rubble on the ground, the Ratling who had tackled him was part of a larger group and had kept his friends from coming to his help. By the voices responding to Jackal's calls, everyone was still alive. Tibs almost yelled to say he was okay, but noticed the Ratling heading for the fighting and he pulled back instead.
He looked around; six tents in a circle with a fire pit in the center. He hadn't noticed the arrangements from the entrance. But if that was the same for the other side, and what he remembered, further along, it would be a system of alleys formed by the tents. Tibs smiled. He knew alleys.
He glanced in the path. The Ratling was further along, moving cautiously. Tibs went around the tent, then two more before checking back on the path. He'd move halfway to where the Ratling now stood, looking like he was waiting for an opportunity. The club it held wasn't made for throwing, but Tibs knew anything could be thrown when you wanted it badly enough.
He made sure no one else was in the path and crossed to the other side. Two more tents and he was behind the Ratling. He took out a knife as he snuck behind it, then grabbed and stabbed it in the back multiple times. When it was rubble, Tibs stepped between tents.
He realized that even if they were made of stone, or something that looked like stone, they'd felt warm, and behaved the same way when stabbed a person did. He filed the question of why the dungeon would do that for later.
The center of the village was open and was where his friends were busy fighting. He almost ran to help them, but they had things under some control, and more Ratlings were waiting at the periphery for their chance. Tibs would be more useful to everyone if he removed them before anyone noticed what he was doing.
He removed three of them, closing his hand around their short muzzle to keep them from calling out as he stabbed and pulled them back. Then, on his way to a fourth, the inside of an open tent caught his attention, or rather the chest in it.
He should go help his team.
He looked at the central space. They were holding their own.
There might be something useful in the chest, he told himself, before just admitting he was curious and running into the tent.