The armor chafed, and Tibs didn’t hide the discomfort.

  His appearance had been crafted to show someone with coins, so it made sense he’d buy armor for the runs. This marked him as someone who lacked experience with them, otherwise he would have bought it well in advance to break it in.

  While milling about with the others, waiting to be put on a team, he sensed what the darkness and light adventurers did as they questioned the runners. The flow was steady, and he quickly had a sense of the etching and the Arcanus within it. It gave him a sense of how the two elements interacted, but he lacked the knowledge to know what that meant in regard to the etching’s effect.

  He needed time to work out that part. Studying how it formed and how the essence flowed while it worked. He didn’t need to overcome it completely, but he needed to know what had to happen for his darkness etching to remain undetected while it hid the brand.

  That started with making sure he wasn’t picked for a team, so he kept back. The adventurers placing the fighters on the teams as spots became available didn’t have ‘a plan’ as to who went where. Everyone would be placed in time. It was all that mattered.

  Then, he had to figure out how attentive the pair of adventurer was to their etching. The easiest way he had for it to miss his own etching was to disrupt it just enough without them realizing it. So he gently pulled at strands and observed how they reacted. He didn’t pull enough to disrupt the etching, only to distort it and see how far he could go before one of them exerted their will over it to return it in place.

  This pair was so inexperienced, or inattentive, that he ended up causing the etching to fall apart without meaning to.

  After that, they were more attentive, so the test was more accurate. It showed just how unskilled the darkness adventurer was. She noticed the out-of-place strand, but in exerting her will on it, she caused the etching to shatter and her partner wasn’t pleased.

  He gave them a few turns without intervening. If they were the only pair he had to worry about, he’d go in; but he needed to be able to fool better trained adventurers.

  When he affected the etching again, he did so with the light essence. This adventurer was more attentive, possibly as a result of what had happened before, but also more skilled. When she willed the strand in place, it acted ‘neatly’.

  He spent the morning testing how subtle he had to be for his work to go completely unnoticed. Around zenith, the pair was replaced, and he put this new one to the test. They were better, but with the practice Tibs had gotten, he evaluated them quickly.

  Then he switched to affecting the Arcanus within the etching. He started with Jir, because if he could only work out how to alter one, this was the best for his goal. Jir affect the intensity of the other Arcanus around it, so reduced the overall effectiveness of the etching itself. The more ‘brackets’ of Jir were in the etching, the harder it was to affect the whole thing, but this was simple, with barely a handful of them.

  The ‘sets’ were composed of Gur, Maur, and Qu, and Jir as ‘brackets’.

  The exact effect of one Arcanus was dependent on those around it, but for something this simple, Tibs expected the effect remained close to when each was used singly. Gur went toward limiting what it affected. In effect, it ‘selected’ what the etching affected, both through the intent when the etching was formed, and where in it they positioned it. Maur also influenced what the etching affected, but it served to ‘remove’ something that would remain included under Gur alone.

  If the goal of the etching was to affect everyone, except those with blond hair, Gur would be used to select hair, over things like skin, and muscles and bones, while Maur would then remove blond from the hair within that selection.

  Qu governed how the etching responded when the criteria were met. With proper placement and skill, it could be used to have an etching respond in different ways based on the previous Arcanus. In this case, he expected all it did was respond to the truthfulness of an answer, but until someone was caught lying, he couldn’t know was the response was.

  But it didn’t tell him ‘what’ the etching searched for. In something like this, the parameters couldn’t be overly complex. But that ignored intent. What the persons wanted, as they made the etching, could have far reaching effect on it. And he couldn’t just know how skilled they were at ‘intent’ simply from studying the etching.

  While most guild didn’t care about a Runner ‘cheating’; some did. It would be a simple thing, if the adventurer is skilled at intent, to will that into what the etching searched for.

  Which was why changing the effect Jir had on the set was his best bet of getting by them undetected.

  The rest of the day went by with him carefully altering Jir’s position, and causing the etching to fall apart more often than not. The Arcanus also acted as a way to ‘bind’ the etching together. A Purity etching dealt with the headaches the constant focus caused.

  When the waiting fighters were sent away, Tibs hadn’t noticed the sun had set, and that lanterns provided the illumination. And only mildly realized that the dungeon hadn’t talked to him once throughout the day. He hadn’t made the progress he’d hoped. The balance of altering Jir enough it affected the set, but wasn’t noticed by the adventurers and didn’t cause the etching to break was harder than he’d expected.

  His body reminded him he’d overtaxed himself as he stood to follow the others out. He ate lightly, then fell on his bed, instantly sleeping.

  The next day brought more of the same, although the first pair was better than those of the previous day. It served him well, as he needed to be able to defeat the best who’d end up ‘testing’ him. But it basically meant he was starting from scratch. His multiple mistakes caused them to break into an argument over which of them was incompetent, and if they’d bothered paying attention to their teacher.

  He’d had to let them work undisturbed after that until they stopped messing up because their attention was on the other’s part of the work instead of their own. This slowed his expected progress, but didn’t stop it.

  The day after that, and the one after, were much of the same. Slow progress as he learned not only how to alter Jir to get the effect he was after, but learned how each pair worked. Nine pairs in total assigned in an order that wasn’t obvious, but probably wasn’t random.

  By the end of the day, he had Jir in a position where the etching barely registered what it searched for, without either adventurer noticing, and the etching remaining intact. Even the best trained of the adventurers didn’t notice his work. Although there had been enough broken etching to reach that point, Tibs had worried they’d call an early end to the day.

  He had to maintain his will on it the entire time, otherwise Jir returned to the position it was assigned to, but he could make the changes in a couple of heartbeats. He’d do it as he stepped up to them, answer the questions, and let go.

  That evening, as he left the grounds, he decided he was ready. He had to be. There were few fighters left to assign. A few times he’d had to move to ensure others blocked him for the adventurer’s sight as they selected fighters for teams.

  “Tomorrow’s the day,” he whispered, not knowing if the dungeon was listening. He’d decided that something it had said the first time they talked now applied to him. That until a Runner was inside it, they weren’t worth paying attention to.

  He ate well that evening, listening to the bard singing about Far Reacher, an adventurer of old who, according to her song, had found many of the dungeons that made up the guild and had been central to its creation. He’d never read anything about an adventurer by that name in his research on the guild, and this bard’s song added nothing.

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  He left, his meal not finished, as she started on the Ballad of Light-Fingers. He considered paying her to shut up, but his appetite was already ruined.

  Any caravan he traveled with that happened to have a bard among those there was invariably the worse time he had. They felt it was their duty to entertain the guards after a hard day’s work, and his story kept being sung, and he couldn’t tell them to stop when so many of the others enjoyed the performance.

  Not without having to explain where his hatred came from.

  The songs now had him as the one who attacked the dungeon, or led those who attacked it, or an unwitting pawn, too daft to know what he was doing. Others claimed he’d single handedly kept the town safe, cleaned the corruption from it, and healed the residents of the sickness. He was also either the leader of dissident determined to undo the guild’s great work, or the spy sent to infiltrate them for the same purpose. One had him as an agent of Sebastian, although the song didn’t use the man’s name. He was just the Villain, intent on destroying Kragle Rock.

  It rankled enough that anyone would think he’d do anything to harm his town that the first time he heard that one; he barely kept from striking the bard. But the destruction of the man’s instruments had been his doing. Not that anyone could explain the fire that consumed half the man’s wagon. Tibs hadn’t intended on taking so much from him, but the satisfaction of watching something of his tormentor, of this liar, burn had been too great.

  * * * * *

  Tibs reached the grounds well rested and in good humor. He talked with the other fighters about what the day would bring, which of them would be selected to be on a team. He was excited for the coming run.

  His good humor didn’t sour when he sensed the group of adventurers in the distance approaching from the direction of the transportation platform. Not even as the numbers registered, more than he’d sensed here before, or that at least one, no two of them were well into Gamma.

  It did falter when he realized all of them either had Light or Darkness as their elements. It soured fully as he watched two instructors lead the group to the dungeon’s door.

  He watched them, one Light, one Darkness, take position and motion for a team to be sent to them.

  The precision of their etching stunned him into simply sensing. Once they were done with the team leader, they had a pair take their place, and under a supervision so intense Tibs was certain he could feel their will on the pair’s etching, the two questioned the fighter. Another pair did the next one, and another after that.

  How hadn’t he considered there would be consequences for so many adventurers’ failed etchings? Of course, some of them would bring it up with their teachers, and they would talk to the others. Realize so many had had problems, it made more sense to bring the teaching to where it had happened, instead of keeping it to the training rooms.

  All Tibs had to do was keep from being put on a team until after the instructors had left. They couldn’t remain any longer than it took to test each pair. As strong as they were, they had to have other duties. And there were enough fighters left he could keep from—

  The darkness instructor’s head snapped up. She searched the grounds, her head scanning from one side to the other. She ignored the other instructor’s questions, and she, too, looked about, but without the intensity. The woman’s gaze passed over Tibs twice, but felt like it returned in his direction faster each time. Then she looked at him, and he pulled his hand off his left wrist.

  It meant nothing. She couldn’t—

  Her hand moved up, and Tibs bolted.

  He didn’t care he hadn’t sensed an etching forming. For all he knew, surprise was why she wasn’t calling out for guards to capture him. She’d soon do so, and he needed to be out of here.

  He shoved Runners out of his way, and now people called for him to stop. He used the lack of training Runners had to put them between him and whoever he sensed running after him. Too many elements, too close together, for him to work out numbers, but at least they seemed to be the weaker of the adventurers.

  The guards ahead of him looked perplexed at the commotion, but they had the training to act in spite of that. Maybe this was the first time an Omega Runner attempted to flee. Or maybe it was the determination on his face, instead of fear, that puzzled them.

  He jumped over the first guard stepping in to block his way. The stiff armor impeded him and the guard caught his foot. He kicked the man in the face, then picked himself off the ground. Half closing his eyes, he channeled earth, and made himself stronger, shouldering another guard out of his way.

  With his vision clouded, and so many people around him, he only realized someone grabbed his arm when he felt the weight on them, and barely kept himself from throwing them away as the faint red tint to their life essence registered. He shook his arm hard and the Fire Runner fell away.

  Three guards stood between him and the gate, and he moved earth to his legs. He should have channeled air. It was better for jumps. He was never taking his bracers off again. The leap still cleared them.

  The gate was in sight, and the weave unchanged, but the doors were closing. He had no choice. He let go of Earth, channeled Air, and etched himself a launching pad. The arm that grabbed him as his foot landed on it kept him from flying forward like an arrow, instead causing him to ‘leap’ over their head as they used Earth to anchor themselves to the ground.

  He again cursed his lack of other essences and made an etching of air at his shoulder, that detonated when he slammed it into the guard. Anchored as she was, she didn’t fly off, but Tibs was wrenched out of her grip. With a scream, he ran at her; the etching forming at her feet. He stepped on it, and his knee slammed into her face as he was thrown over her. He stumbled the landing from the pain, but forced himself to ignore it.

  This time, when he stepped on the etching, he was launched forward, between the closing doors, and into the people on the other side. He was up and running through them, trying to sense for pursuers, but no one with an element had yet to leave the grounds, and if guards were after him, he wouldn’t be able to tell them apart from the rest of the city folks.

  Then he was in the alleys and quickly ascertained he’d lost his pursuers.

  The pain that he finally allowed to register almost kept him from channeling Purity. Then the etching took it away and he could walk. He shed the armor and took pants and shirt to put over the underclothes he wore.

  He sensed for anyone with an element. There were a few, but none hurried. Runners coming and going. Maybe adventurers who didn’t know they should be hunting him. Did the guild have the authority to hunt him outside the grounds? Not all kingdoms granted it the freedom it wanted.

  Still, he couldn’t take for granted he was safe from them. Even without the authority, they could move about, keep an eye out for him. Did they know where his room was? It hadn’t been asked, but he’d talked with other fighters, and where in the city they resided had come up.

  He had to reach the room before they did, get his bracers, the rest of his stuff if he had the time, and then lose himself in the city until the caravan left.

  He cursed his bad planning. He’d almost gotten in. Almost been able to do runs again.

  This was a lesson, he told himself. He’d learned from it, and the next time, he wouldn’t make this mistake. He’d be more careful in how he manipulated the etchings. Would learn what he needed without causing them to fall apart.

  And he needed the runs. Needed to have a guild approve audience so he could get the documentation he learned Runners who paid for the privilege gained when they did. It let them go to other dungeons and do runs there. Maybe the guild would have given them to him once he reached Epsilon and could leave Kragle Rock. Of maybe at that point, what he could do was enough to prove he’d gone through the guild.

  He couldn’t know until he had gone through the process.

  And he’d almost been able to.

  * * * * *

  He sensed no one with an element as he reached the house. No one wearing enough metal to be a guard, either. He wanted to wait for the cover of night, but by then his room could have been emptied.

  He made it to the roofs well away from the house and reached his window without attracting gazes. He used essence to undo the lock he’d set in place, and kept the spring blade from triggering as he opened it and looked inside for evidence his room had been searched.

  The papers were in place on the table, the ‘fallen’ page still on the chest next to it. No essence work had been left behind. He stepped in, took the bracers out from under the loose floorboard, then dressed in his caravan guard clothes. And only then retrieved the coin pouch from where he’d hidden it in the ceiling.

  He sensed around the house again. He didn’t question how it was they hadn’t made it here yet. Maybe the Runners he’d talked with had decided to protect him. Or the guild hadn’t considered asking them if they knew anything.

  He made it to the roof and walked away from the house, from this opportunity. He had one thing to do, once night had fallen, then tomorrow, he’d put this behind him

  * * * * *

  “Baricron,” he said, hoping the use of its name would catch its attention. Dungeons remained somewhat aware of everything within their influence, although they had to focus to interact with a part of it. He’d been able to yell Sto’s name to get his attention. He couldn’t yell in the alley, but he hoped that—

  “There you are. You weren’t with the others today.”

  “There were complications. I won’t be doing runs in you. I’m sorry.”

  “Why not? You seemed interested.”

  “They won’t let me in anymore.”

  “Why? They’ve never prevented anyone from entering.”

  “It’s a people thing.” He didn’t have the energy to explain how the guild worked to a dungeon. “I just thought you should know it’s why I won’t be there tomorrow, or anytime after that.”

  “Okay. That’s too bad. I was curious to find out how far you were going to make it before failing.”

  “Take care of yourself and your helper.” Tibs walked out of the dungeon’s influence and lost himself in the city for the night.

  Bottom Rung is available on KU:

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  Thank you for reading this chapter.

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