Mind Your Step, Draft 1, CH 13

Tibs watched Heather move from stall to stall as if it was her first day in the market, instead of the fourth. She bought little; small ornaments for her armor, food occasionally. She glared at Tibs for doing the same, or for the candies he bought and shared with Ruppert so the squirrel would stop stealing them from his pouch.

She no longer voiced her suspicions, but she kept trying to catch him in the act of picking a pocket.

He was tempted to let her, just to see what she’d do since calling attention to his actions would get the guards involved, him in a cell, and her without her trainer. He fought the temptation.

It wouldn’t be fair to her, and escaping from a cell meant he’d have to leave the city without punishing the gang, possibly sending a message to the others to treat the poor folks with more care. The whole thing would be more effective with a character attached to the acts, but Heather wouldn’t let him get away with that.

“Those that gang you’re looking for?” she asked as he watched the five thugs walking the edge of the market.

“You’re going to stop me from chasing them off? From finding their hideout?”

“So long as you tell the guards about it.”

“I will,” he lied. He took off running as the thugs headed for an older man in rags with bundles of sticks in his arms, and Ruppert hurried into a pocket. “Hey you!” he yelled as one accosted the poor man.

The thugs looked at Tibs, around, and ran for an alley, as he’d counted on. He let them keep the lead.

After the first turn, Tibs channeled water and made steps of ice along a wall for Heather, following him. “They aren’t slippery.” He ran up them, and didn’t slow, needing to keep the thugs close enough to justify how he kept track of them.

She was up them without hesitation, and he let the etching go, then dissipated then Water essence. He closed the distance and followed their backs until they stopped to catch their breaths. Tibs sensed around for an indication they were close to their hideout, but nothing out of the ordinary registered.

“I think you miscalculated,” Heather said, slightly out of breath herself. “Thugs have to know they’re being chased to keep running.”

Tibs tended to be the one being chased, and he didn’t stop until he knew he’d lost his tail. But he had essence to inform him on the continued pursuit. These thugs didn’t, and probably thought they were safe.

“I’ll spur them on,” she said. Before he asked how, she lowered herself from the roof and dropped to the ground on the opposite side of the house. “I think they went that way!”

The yell galvanized the thugs, and they ran again. He followed, keeping to the edge so Heather could see him. She kept making sounds, letting them know the chase was ongoing. Then they hurried into a building. Possibly a house, as one point, but the entire area had a sense of being abandoned.

He dropped from the roof next to Heather, who slowed, and they kept going past the building. At next alley, he stopped.

“Which building are they in?” she asked.

As an answer, he walked back to it. The thug who’d kept watch had joined the others at the back. Tibs sensed a variety of housewares, a handful of coins in a box, and small wooden carvings.

He kicked the door in, forming a jagged sword out of ice. “You made a mistake taking on the poor.”

The smaller of the group ran to the back, and Tibs sent raw Water in that direction, thick enough, it was visible. No one was escaping his wrath. It passed through the people without more than their terrified screams, and he iced it as it impacted the wall, covering it and the loose boards there with jagged ice their leader almost ran into.

Tibs was disappointed with his miscalculation. One of them impaled on the ice would have been a memorable message for all who heard about it. Still, the cornered thugs could no longer flee. They’d have to fight.

The first came at him, and Tibs sent her back with a few cuts on her chest and arms. Less warning, and more taste of what was to come. The message he’d leave behind for those who thought the poor were fair game.

Two came at him. One grabbing a candelabra on the way. Tibs grinned as he stepped out of its way, while batting the other with the ‘flat’ of his blade, the points cutting the man.

A wooden crate came at him, and he locked it in ice, then sent ice daggers at the thug who threw it. Only one hit, since he wasn’t focusing on their aim, in the leg, so he wasn’t running off.

He batted the makeshift staff aside, giving the thug cuts in the process, enjoying the mounting fear in their eyes. Not enough to make them cower, since a thug grabbed something else to throw, so they needed a stronger deterrent.

He batted the candelabra aside and stabbed for the heart.

His sword moved off the mark, cutting the man’s side, ice spreading from it, but stopping as the blade continued moving away.

He spun, snarling, to face Heather.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she demanded.

“Teaching them a lesson,” he snarled.

“By trying to kill one of them?”

“They’re taking advantage of the defenseless!”

“Like they’re any less defenseless against you.”

“Leave, if you don’t have the stomach to do what’s needed.”

“That’s not right, Tyrone! You don’t fix problems by destroying and killing.”

“I find that works pretty well.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Them!” he motioned to the thugs, who shirked back.

“No, your problem. What happened to you that you need to hurt other people like this.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing doesn’t lead to this.”

“Like you’d understand any of it.”

“How the fuck do you expect me to understand anything when you said you’d bring the guards on them.”

“They don’t deserve the guards.”

“And they deserve death?”

The disbelief in her tone gave him pause, and without pushing his anger ever forward, it ebbed back. This had been about teaching them a lesson, nothing more. He looked over his shoulder at the terrified thugs. They’d deserved this, he told himself, but without the anger to feed the thought, it sounded false. Who had they killed?

Yes, people had suffered at their hands, but when did that not happen? He didn’t go on, confronting everyone who took advantage of others. Why them?

When the anger returned, it was directed at himself. Why had it let himself get angry again? He knew what happened.

“Are you okay?” she asked tentatively.

He snorted.

“Can we bring the guards now?”

What was the point? They’d go in a cell, be released, and go right back to this.

Unless he provided an incentive against it.

He faced them. He let his anger fill his words. “She just saved your miserable lives. But don’t think she’ll be around the next time I catch you taking advantage of the poor.” He looked at the crate encased in ice and exploded it. “That’s what awaits you next time.” He absorbed the water essence in the room and walked by Heather. “You deal with them.”

“Send the guards here,” she replied, and he almost told her to fuck off.

He sent the first guards he came across and headed for their room.

*

He sat against the wall of the room when the door opened and Heather looked in.

“Is it safe?”

He snorted, but she still entered.

He took a candy, and threw it to the rafters. Ruppert leaped, caught it, and ate in silence. There had been no threats on the squirrel’s part, but Tibs figured that keeping him busy would let him have silence.

“What happened?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I got angry.”

“That was much more than anger, Tyrone. I get angry. That was rage. I know it’s not fair that they take advantage of the poor, but what you did, what you were going to do….”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know.” The lie was bright, but at least he was the only one seeing it.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I was one of them. One of the poor. I was Street. So low I got beaten by the others from the Street when they caught me taking to survive. Or then they wanted the little I’d managed to gather. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be so alone that you have to be afraid of everyone you see? I never got to gather stuff and find a market to sell it. Street doesn’t leave the Street. But I have a sense of how hard they had to work to manage the little they did. And then, for those thugs to just come and take that….”

Anger stole his voice, and he focused on breathing.

“You got out.”

He snorted again.

“I was taken out. Risked the edge of the Street for better pockets, and I got caught. Instead of losing my hand for it, I got lucky and was bought by the adventurer’s guild to feed a dungeon. That’s where I got my eyes.”

“That’s where you learned what you did about the elements.”

Another snort. “The guild doesn’t teach us anything. They throw us in the dungeon and see if we’re strong enough to survive. If we are. They get us a teacher and charge gold each day they teach us. It’s all about making sure we never escape them. Freedom at Epsilon, they promised me. But they didn’t tell me I’d have to pay back what I owed before that was true. So much gold I’d never escape.”

“But you did.”

The snort hardly had any strength. “I tried to save my town from them. I failed. They were sending me to some citadel, but my friends put their lives at risk to break me out. At least I was able to make sure they weren’t blamed.”

“I’m sorry for what was done to you.”

He shrugged. “It’s in the past. Nothing to be done about it anymore. How did it go with the guards?” He didn’t feel like talking about himself anymore. He shouldn’t even have said as much as he had.

“They took the thugs to the cells. The stuff there was enough so that they’ll be there for a while. You scared them enough they didn’t say one word about what you did to them. I said I trailed them, that the ruckus ended when I kicked the door in and that whoever had done that to them had run off before that. There’s loose boards at the back of the house, so the guards figured that’s how.”

“You covered for me.”

“Would you have let them put you in a cell?”

He chuckled. “They wouldn’t have been able to catch me.”

“So there was no point. Look Tyrone. I can’t let you do anything like that again. You caught me by surprise, and you were too far gone to hear me yell your name. But if you do it again, I am going to have to stop you.”

“You won’t be able to.”

“I was able to talk you down.”

“Only because you surprised me by deflecting my sword. You won’t be able to do that again. It’s not a threat,” he added as she opened her mouth. “It’s the way I think. I know how you’ll act, so I’m going to plan for it.”

“I’m still going to stop you, so it’s best if you don’t try it.”

The idea she could stop him before his anger was spent was ridiculous. It had taken Jackal pounding his head in to make that happen, and she was nowhere near that strong. But he nodded. Saying so would lead to an argument at best. And she’d still believe she could do it. She had a stubborn streak he couldn’t help but admire, even if it would get her killed one day.

“What’s the plan, now that you don’t have thugs to chase?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Look after your training.”

*

Tibs’s blade nudged slightly, and Heather’s sword slipped under, making the parry effective. He stepped back, intent on parrying her attack, but his sword again nudged, and he missed her blade, barely stepping aside to avoid a slide on his shirt. If these weren’t the goal of the exercises, he’d be annoyed with his now constant near misses and her successes. He wasn’t certain if he could counter her with metal in a way that wouldn’t reveal he had that element.

“Looks to me you need someone better,” a man among the watchers said.

“You think that’s you?” Heather replied, smirking.

The man who stepped forward was a head taller than her, out massed her greatly, and looked determined to prove he was her better. “If not me, one of my friends’ll do it. I hear there’s a bed in it for us.”

“Oh, you think you’re that good?”

“Heather, you don’t have to—”

“I’ve got this, Tyrone. I think someone needs to be taught a lesson. And in case you think this is the same bet as before. I’m only going to the bed of the one who takes me down. Losers get to sleep alone.”

Before Tibs could protest, the man attacked. With a sigh, he stepped back to watch, and intervene if someone got carried away. By the looks on the men and women watching, she wouldn’t want for opponents to test herself against.

When a second opponent stepped in, before Heather took down her first, Tibs moved to intervene, but she told him to stay back.

She was handling them easily enough. What she could do wasn’t so much it came across as essence use, and the fighters probably didn’t know what element her silver eyes matched. They’d expect something showy if she started using it.

She took one down, and another joined. Then she was fighting three, and Tibs sensed the problem she was heading for. She was using her essence with too much abandon to be keeping track. He couldn’t know precisely how close to fully used up she was getting, but he remembered enough of the signs to know when to bring this to an end.

She made it through half the fighters eager for their chance before a sword cut her. It wasn’t deep, but it wouldn’t be the last as Tibs sensed how little essence she had left.

“This is enough,” he said.

“Stay out of this,” the woman flanking Heather said, sword coming down. Heather stepped out of the way, but left herself open for the man on her other side, who took advantage.

Tibs caught the sword with his and, with a slight use of Metal, had it out of the man’s hand. He shouldered him aside with Earth to make it effective, then moved on to the next one. Once those who had been fighting Heather were unarmed and paces away, many nursing bruises, Tibs stood between them and her.

“The training is over,” he stated. “You didn’t win. Go find someone else to bring to your bed.”

There was defiance in many of the people still hoping for a chance, but the four Tibs had taken on were enough to convince them not to try. He crouched beside Heather as she panted.

“Are you okay?” The cut was shallow, and he ensured Corruption didn’t set in.

“I don’t know what happened. It was going fine, then it was like the essence didn’t want to come anymore.”

“You drained your reserve. You weren’t paying attention. If you’d forced it, it could have killed you.”

“Really?”

“There are stories, but I’ve not seen it happen. You shouldn’t risk it.”

“How do I make my reserve larger?”

“You train.”

She glared at him. “We’re already doing that.”

“A different kind of training.” One they couldn’t accomplish in a city. Even the wild wouldn’t lead to the speedy growth she’d want.

“I don’t like that smile, Tyrone.”

What she needed was a dungeon.