Stepping Wild, CH 20 (Patreon)

As he’d sensed, the room’s floor was made of wooden disks set among a soft dirt ground. Pushing against the ground, his hand easily sunk in and resisted being pulled out, but emerged clean. It wasn’t mud. Its essence made that obvious, but it behaved like it. The first disk was a step away from where the hall ended. Push on it with his hand cause the essence within the mud to shift, congregate under and keep it from sinking in.

Maybe this was to let Runners think the point was simply to jump from disk to disk. He opened his mouth to ask, but closed it. Sto would have enjoyed the conversation, and Tibs might have been able to get him to let a detail slip that would help him. Firmen would probably see this as what it was. Tibs trying to get details. Merka would definitely shut down any conversation about the room.

The mud was easily twice his height in depth, and without using essence, Tibs didn’t think he’d be able to pull himself out if he fell in. If he could suffuse himself, crossing it would be easy, and wouldn’t break the rules they’d agreed upon. And Tibs thought that if he were to take control of the earth essence in the mud and turn it solid, it wouldn’t technically break them, but after the recent exchange, he wasn’t sure Firmen would agree.

He stood.

And where was the fun in that? He’d wanted to do a run for years now, and here it was. He wasn’t going to take the easy way through.

He put a foot on the disk and slowly added weight until it took all of it, then stepped on. The essence under it was evenly packed.

He suspected that wouldn’t be the case for the next one.

He had options. There were seven disks in a relative straight line to the other side spaced well withing his unaided jumping range. Any trained Runner could make such jumps, he figured. That might be the point. Provide an apparent easy path that would be tricked in other ways.

“How do you know how far people can jump?”

“You think we’re going to help you?” Merka replied.

“No, and I told myself I wasn’t going to ask questions, but it’s been a long time since my curiosity has been piqued this way. Don’t feel like you have to answer anytime I can’t stop myself.”

“Why does this feel like you are trying to trick me?” Firmen said, puzzled. “You ask the question, tell me I don’t have to answer and yet… I feel like I should.”

Tibs looked up. “Maybe you miss having someone else to talk with?”

“Hey, Firmen speaks with me all the time. We don’t need something like you here to liven thing up.”

Tibs shrugged and returned his attention to the floor. Other than this quick path, using the other disks would allow him to vary how he crossed the room. It would take longer, require more jumps, therefore increased the number of ways Firmen could have trapped each disk, but it would be easier to step off any of them.

He stretched to the closest disk, keeping his attention on his current one for any change and the new one for how it reacted to the weight. As he’d expected, the essence didn’t shift evenly. He couldn’t tell how it would be distributed until all his weight was on, and only standing in the center should ensure it didn’t tip over.

He couldn’t keep his balance and stretch his foot far enough to reach that spot, so he hopped over and then worked at maintaining his balance as the disk wobbled.

“You cheated, I just know it,” Merka said.

“Understanding how a puzzle work isn’t cheating,” Tibs replied, looked for the next step. “It’s not even being sneaky. It’s just being able to think a problem through. It’s why us thieves are the onces to deal with the tracks and puzzles in a dungeon.”

“Rogues,” it said with derision. “No one ever told me anything about thieves being allowed in.”

“I’d really like to know how it is dungeons use terms the guild came up with.”

“I’m sure you’d like that,” Merka replied. “Don’t expect me to be the one telling you.”

Tibs doubted they knew. It was one thing for dungeons with a guild controlling who accessed them, but for one in the wild to use the same terms? He knew some dungeons could talk to each other, but would class names be something they bothered with? And why would they bother telling a dungeon without a guild anywhere close? One that, if Tibs’s suspicions were correct, the guild would never find out about?

Too bad it was a village and not a city next to the dungeon. Tibs would have liked a library to study at between his runs.

He jumped to the next one, landing perfectly in the center, and immediately it tipped over as the essence compacted only on one side of it. Without having time to think, he jumped to the next one, landing on its edge and over balancing in his attempt to go to the center. His foot slipped into the mud, and he found himself on his stomach, face nearly in the mud.

His heart was racing. He’d almost fallen in.

Carefully, he sat on the disk, then laughed.

A first floor room had nearly gotten him.

“There is definitely something wrong with it,” Merka said.

And it wasn’t because he’d been overconfident, or because Firmen had cheated. For its simplicity, the trap was simply that good.

He couldn’t know ahead of time how the essence would behave, and the one place he had misjudged was in thinking the center would be stable.

He sensed how the essence was distributed under him and put his weight on the denser side to push himself to his feet.

“Yes, of course,” Firmen said, annoyed. “You can sense what’s under you.”

“And it’s not helping me,” Tibs added with a laugh. “I have to know. Did you alter how the room is set up because of me?”

“Couldn’t you sense the changes I made?”

Tibs shook his head. “I sense you made changes, but I wasn’t paying attention to it before, so I other than the layout of the maze, I don’t know what changes you made.”

“That’s cheating!” Merka yelled.

“Leave it be,” Firmen said. “We knew he could do that by the time I agreed to let him Run through me. I am curious, though. Why do you say being able to sense what is under you doesn’t help?”

“It only reacts after I’ve landed on a disk, and there are all far enough away. I can’t test them a head of jumping, and once I’m in it, I’m busy not falling in.”

“I don’t trust it. It’s answering too readily.”

“Merka,” Tibs said, trying to stifle his annoyance. “My curiosity runs as deeps as my reserve. As I’ve grown to no longer look like a child, getting people to answer my questions became ever harder. So, short of answering a question I think will hurt me, I don’t have a reason to not satisfy your curiosity.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s on you, not me.” He picked his next disk and jumped. Being ready for it this time, he leaped off as soon as it tipped fully in one direction, then had to quickly step around as the essence settled under him.

Again, his breathing was quick, and he liked it.

He looked back the way he’d come. He wasn’t at the halfway point yet, but he was tempted to make his way back, test all the disks, jump around the room until he knew how each one reacted.

But he had a teammate to rescue.

The next disk hardly wobbled, the one after than almost had him fall as it tipped back in the direction he’d come, and again he had to jump without plan to the closest one. A quick dance later and he was laughing, hands on knees, panting.

“I think you are right. There is something not quite right with him.”

“This is fun!” Tibs yelled, straightening, and nearly caused the disk to tip back.

“It isn’t meant to be fun,” Firmen said. “It’s meant to push you, kill you, if you fail.”

Tibs laughed again. “Runners who survive, we grow to like this. To like testing ourselves against someone like you. We know we might die. It’s part of what makes surviving so exhilarating. I missed it.”

He settled himself with a few breaths and jumped to the next one. This time he nearly fell forward, ready for it to move, when it didn’t. As with the first disk, the essence was evenly distributed. Four more jumps, with one more disk tipping over, and Tibs landed on the other side.

“Can I ask you a question?” Firmen asked.

“Of course.”

“Why didn’t you take the central path?”

“Too obvious. It’s the one that looks like you wanted me to take it.”

“So there is no point in me setting it up. No one will fall for its trap.”

“I’m not saying that. I made it to Sto’s fourth floor. I’ve learned some of how he thinks, and when I saw that, I saw something he’d on the first or second floor. It’s only those who’ve either been through other dungeons, or who have survived the room who’ll know better than to risk it.”

“Okay, why are you telling us that?” Merka sounded as if they were about to panic. “It’s going to keep Firmen from wasting time trying to make the room harder than it already is.”

“I told you, unless I think it’s going to hurt me, I’m going to answer. Out of curiosity, one of the disk in the center path doesn’t have any support, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Tibs smiled. “Keep it there.”

“Why, it is going to kill someone. Don’t you care what happens to other Runners?”

“It’s not certain to kill anyone. Fast reflexes can save a Runner. And they’ll have a team. So even falling in the mud doesn’t mean they’ll die. But it is going to be a lesson either way in taking the easy way.” Tibs started walking. “That’s rarely the right decision in or out of dungeons.”

The room he was heading to was in sight when the creature stepped out of a tree. He was reluctant to call it a Woodling because it was taller than he was and massively build. A fighter, definitely.

Tibs formed his sword and shield and readied himself. It had a lot of essence, but no obvious special capability. Other than it being in a corridor, it had the sense of a first floor boss. Especially with how it seemed to wait for him to start the fight. He vaguely remembered that being something Sto had done.

He rushed it, coated his leg with water to slide under its attempt to grab him, and sliced at its leg. A bit of bark went flying, but that was all. So it would be tough.

With a curse, he brought his shield before him in time to take the impact that sent him sliding along the hall, nearly to the door to the room he needed to enter.

And fast.

It was already running in his direction as Tibs got to his feet. He coated his arms with earth, but kept himself from adding metal to his sword’s edge. If it came to an argument, he could justify that coating himself wasn’t making use of essence. Adding an edge was stretching it enough he didn’t feel like risking it when he was in the middle of the dungeon.

This time, when he took the blow with his shield, he only slid a few paces, and his return slash bit deeper with the added strength. When he attacked again, the tree golem caught the blade in its hand, and snapped it.

The surprised let it land a blow that sent Tibs into a tree hard enough his vision blurred. He ducked as the form rushed forward, then shoved himself away from the wall. As he reformed his sword, with was on him again, and he focused on avoiding it, instead.

When he saw it clearly and could think beyond not getting hit, Tibs wondered if Firmen was controlling the golem directly. It had taken Sto time to master that, but he had no idea how long Firmen had existed. Without Runners, maybe possessing its creatures was how they passed the time.

He started reforming his sword and again it rushed him. There was no obvious strategy, other than grabbing him if he didn’t shift to avoiding. Tibs coated his arm in metal and punched. That staggered it and caused a chunk of bark to fall off, exposing pale wood.

He had the sword reformed before it attacked again, and the bark was regrowing over the wood.

So it healed, after a fashion.

Tibs didn’t have time to work out the rules for that. He ducked under the punch and planted his sword into the exposed wood and immediately stepped away, leaving it there. He shut down the reflex to send essence to it and have it explode. That would break the agreement.

Instead, he reached out to his broken sword and absorbed that essence. “Before you complain, Merka,” he ducked under the golem’s swing. “I’m not doing anything with it, just absorbing what’s mine.” Without being able to channel other elements to refill his reserves, he needed to be judicious with their use.

He chuckled. That wasn’t a situation he had to deal with often.

He anchored himself to take the next blow with his shield, focusing the earth in his legs, and launched himself forward and pushing it into one of trees that made the walls. He grabbed his sword and sliced sideway to get it out before hurrying to back away.

More bark on the ground, and more fell behind it as he approached. More exposed, softer wood, and he could sense the essence had diminished within the golem. So that was the way to go.

When it rushed him, Tibs ducked under the swing again, only for wooden spikes to erupt out of the bark and cut him. He bit the pain and cut deep into the wood before moving away.

He moved his essence over the injuries to stop the bleeding.

“You’re in it, aren’t you, Firmen?”

“No.”

The golem was rushing Tibs again. Swinging wildly, the spikes extending its range and making it dangerous for him to rush under the attacks.

He’d been certain it was the only way a golem could adapt so quickly, especially on a first floor. His only direct experience was with Sto, but he’d spoken with many Omega Runners over the years and every first floor had a predictability to it that spoke of not adapting, or of forcing the Runners to learn how to use that. Later floors changed that.

When he blocked, spikes shattered on his shield, revealing exposed wood. Tibs hurried to slice, and even if his aim was bad in his rush, he cut nearly halfway through before he had to jump out of the way of the other arm.

 When the golem swung again, instead of blocking with his shield, Tibs brought his sword up and let it provide the strength needed to cut its arm off. Then he spun out of the way, cutting at its exposed back.

In a person, even an adventurer, that would elicit a scream of anger. The golem only turned and attacked again.

Tibs needed to remember they didn’t feel pain. He couldn’t anger them into making mistakes. He stepped back from the severed arm and blocked the other one, sending more spikes flying.

At least he shouldn’t be able to anger them.

This one’s attacks were turning wild, but easier to avoid. Tibs’s attack didn’t but deep, but he was landing more of them, slowly reducing its essence level.

When he cut the other arm, the golem looked at it, and the already removed one with as Tibs swore looked like confusion, even without the features on its face. Then it threw its arms wide and fell to its side, where it started rotting away.

He stared at it. It still had essence, so what had happened?

“Gave up?” Firmen asked.

“What?” Tibs looked up.

“What did you expect me to do without fist to turn it into a paste?” Merka replied, angrily.

Tibs stared at the golem being eaten away into the floor, then up again. “That was Merka?”

“Yes, it was,” they replied petulantly. “You beat me. Feeling proud of yourself?”

“I didn’t know you could possess a creature. I thought only the dungeon could do that.”

“Ah! So you don’t know everything!”

He ignored the barb. Sensing his injuries. He should heal them. The splint was keeping them from getting worse, but other fights would be more difficult. But that also meant the run wasn’t over.

He headed for the door. As with everything else, it was made of trees, but here it had the look of rough lumber, like he’d found in houses in the wild, built out of felled trees. One thing was out of place.

The lock was metal, no intricacy to how it had been worked, but the mechanism within it was as complex as a lock on a well-secured door would be.

He made picks and set to work.

“Does being able to sense it make it easier?” Firmen asked.

“I don’t have to test by feel to know if I’ve set the pin correctly. And I can tell when there are tricked pins in.”

“Tricked pins?”

“Some locks have pins notched to make if feel like they’re set correctly when they aren’t. A thief will learn to tell the difference, but it slows things down.” The lock clicked open, and the door moved inward. “Here, how long it takes isn’t a problem, but when breaking into a house, any delay can mean a guard will walk in on you working.”

The room was square, with tiles on the floor with the Arcanus etched on them. In the far corner, a haggard-looking man looked up at Tibs in confusion.

“Stay where you are,” he said, then switched to the local dialect and repeated himself.

Every Ool, Ike, and Ter were triggers; Tibs easily stepped around them.

“Are…are you a spirit?” the man asked fearfully. He had surprisingly few injuries.

Merka snorted.

“No. Your woman sent me to take you home.” He used earth to strengthen himself and took the man in his arms. He looked at the door, then at the wall on his left. Behind it was the dungeon’s exit. He looked up. Mouthed ‘please’.

“What happened?” Merka asking mockingly. “We’re suddenly not good enough to be spoken to?”

“He doesn’t want the other to know he can talk with us,” Firmen said. “That we can talk at all.”

Tibs nodded.

“Oh, then this is going to be fun.”

Tibs nodded to the wall again.

“Tell me you aren’t considering it,” Merka said.

“He made it to the last room. He defeated the boss we set before it. He finished his run.”

“He cheated. I want to see it make its way back with that in its arms.”

“That isn’t what I’m about, Merka. You told me that. I set the challenges. I get those who fail. Those who succeed get to leave.”

The wall opened to reveal the passage.

The man in his arm whimpered as Tibs stepped through the opening, and then he continued into the forest, where he was surprised to find the sun was coming up.

    *

The tavern fell silent as Tibs entered. Morning was well advanced, now, the sun closer to zenith than away. “Where can I find his woman?”

“Joman!” a woman exclaimed, and chairs clattered as she shoved them out of her way. Tibs lowered him and she embraced her man, before helping him to a table. “Murry, bring us food!”

Tibs turned to the door, only to find people blocking his way, looking at him as if they couldn’t decide what he was.

“You found him?” one of them asked.

“Things,” Joman said, sobbing. “There are things in the forest.”

“What are they?” the man before Tibs demanded.

“I didn’t see anything.” He didn’t want to outright call Joman a liar, but he couldn’t confirm what he said either. “I follower the trail of broken branches. And found him at the bottom of a gully. It must have fallen in. He might have hit his head. He was disoriented when I found him. Food, drink and his woman will help him, I think.”

The tankard was placed on the bar next to him loudly. “Who are you?”

“Tyborg,” Tibs said, and before he could add he was with the caravan, the barman had a tankard raised.

“To Tyborg!” he exclaimed. “Master of the Forest.”

“Tyborg of the Forest!” the others exclaimed and Tibs stifled the grown. Yet another time he acquired a name without meaning to.

Author’s comments

• What I had to work from

A floor of wooden disk on mud.

Doors of logs with a lock to pick

Out of the audience, we now have to deal with the dungeon... and gaining an element in a dungeon means you don’t have immunity to that element. Ideas to escape this... the dungeon could have protected it’s creatures against life drain somehow, but now with Wood, Tibs can get rid of them. No matter what happens, the dungeon is freaking out even more, but Tibs doesn’t want to kill it... it just wants it to stop killing villagers.

this is a good demonstration that it doesn't always need a lot of stuff in the 'outline' to end up with a lot on the page. I was actually surprised with how much I ended up writing. mainly with how much conversation there was. like Tibs, I hadn't planned on there being questions asked. the mud floor was there because I had set it up in the precious chapter, the locked door, because it felt off for the dungeon to simply let Tibs into the room.

On realizing there couldn't be a Boos to fight in the room, I put it in the corridor before.

I wish I were better with them, but I don't have a question for you, again.