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 63
Tibs didn't own the night anymore, but he still owned the roofs.
He watched as two rogues broke into a house. One of the merchant's house. Where the owner was, he didn't know. It was late for any shop to be opened, but there were the taverns. Tibs had found out he was no longer the only one practicing his skills when Harry had accosted him and demanded where a valuable figurine was. Tibs hadn't known, had said so, and because of his element, Harry had believed him. Not that it had improved his mood.
Tibs had paid closer attention after that.
Pickpockets were too common for his liking. Younger nobles, it seemed, although a few of the Runners did it too, unlike him, not seeming to care whose pocket they picked. Tibs didn't like that. They were stealing from the townsfolk more often than not, and that would hurt everyone.
The nobles surprised him in that they seemed to prefer to pick other noble's pockets. Maybe copper wasn't valuable enough to practice with, Tibs had thought as he'd liberated the silver the noble rogue had picked out of another's pocket. They might be nobles, but they weren't a match for the Runners.
Tibs returned to his walking as the two rogues entered the building.
He'd had to decide how far he'd go to protect his town. Would he stop other rogues from stealing from it? They needed to train too, and he couldn't expect all of them to share his hatred of nobles or his love of his town. Kraggle Rock was his town.
But he wasn't its defender, he'd decided.
That was Harry's job.
Tibs was just another rogue practicing his skills.
He reached the end of the roof and concentrated. He wasn't there yet, but he'd realized that he didn't need to make the surface large enough for his whole foot, and the smaller it was, the less air essence he needed, the less he lost and the harder he could make it.
He could make this jump without help. The guards were now watching over any hay bales left outside after a few of them were broken by someone jumping into them. Tibs hadn't bothered pointing out that he'd fallen into them over and over, not jumped.
He launched himself off the ledge, formed the toe size disk of air, and used it to propel himself to the center of the roof. His landing wasn't smooth, as the disk had broken as he pushed on it. Air essence was simply too fragile to take on his weight with the size of his reserve.
He'd now tested every way he could think of and had to accept he'd need an amulet before he could form one solid enough to jump off reliably.
He walked again, reaching Merchant Row, and saw a rogue break into another house, one climb a wall to reach an open window and one being dragged away by a guard.
With the rogues training in force, the guards had also redoubled their efforts. Tibs saw a muscular dog sniff around a rain barrel, relieve itself, then run off into the darkness. He recognized it as Ripper. Serba's major threat when she unleashed the dogs on someone. Thump was the chaser. Once it had a scent, it wouldn't lose it short of someone using air essence to scrub the air behind them. Carina had explained it was something she could do. So Tibs could, once he had more essence.
Where Serba was, Tibs couldn't tell. She was better than most at moving unseen, and her dogs didn't always show where she was. At least twice, she'd surprised Jackal because the fighter was always on the lookout for her dogs, and she was without them. The fighter seemed as scared of her without the dogs as he was of them.
The dog sat next to a form in the shadow and Tibs thought he'd located Serba, only for a whistle to come from further away and the dog took off, surprising the guard who'd been leaning against the building. At least now he knew she was nowhere near him, not that her dogs could smell him all the way up here.