Tibs crouched, looking the room over. As he’d sensed, it was bare, except for wooden disks ranging from a couple of steps across to up to eight or nine, set in the dirt floor. Pushing his hand against the ground caused it to sink, and resisted when he pulled it out; but it emerged clean.

  It wasn’t mud, but it behaved like it. What he sensed of the essence told him little of what to expect, other than it was connected to the disks. The closest one was within reach, so he placed a hand on it and pushed down. Immediately, essence congregated under it and pushed back.

  He couldn’t know how much weight it supported without stepping onto it, and he expected that was the point. Even with sensing essence, the Runners might think the only test here was to jump from disk to disk before they sunk and dragged them along.

  He started asking, then stopped.

  Sto would have enjoyed the conversation and Tibs might have been able to get him to let details about the room slip; Firmen would see it for what it was. Merka would shutdown any conversation about the room.

  The ‘mud’ was easily twice his height in depth and, without using essence, Tibs didn’t know if he’d be able to pull himself pull once he fell in. If he were able to suffuse himself, it would let him bypass the rule about using essence and let him make it across regardless of what the essence in the floor did. He also thought that taking hold of the earth essence in the floor to keep it solid wasn’t, technically, using essence, but after the recent exchange, if Firmen disagreed, it would bring this run to an end, and Tibs would have to decide how far he was willing to go to rescue the woman’s man.

  He stood.

  And where was the fun in outright bypassing the test? He finally had the chance to do a run. He wasn’t going to take the easy way through.

  He placed his foot on the disk and slowly shifted his weight. The essence adjusted, but not enough to keep it from tipping, so he extended and moved his foot to the center, and it shifted evenly, supporting his weight. The change, as he leaned to the side, was slow enough he didn’t have to worry about a sudden tip-over.

  At least for this disk.

  He now had options. Seven disks formed a relative straight line to the other side. They were spaced so that at worst, someone unused to jumping might land on the edge and quickly have to move to the center, if that disk acted like the one he stood on.

  The easy path, by all appearances.

  “How do you know how far people can jump?” He cursed his curiosity.

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

  “No. I’d even told myself not to bother, but it slipped out. It’s been a long time since my curiosity’s been piqued like this. Don’t feel like you need to answer me anytime I blurt out a question.”

  “Why does this feel like you are trying to trick me?” Firmen asked. “You ask the question, tell me not to answer, and yet…I feel like I should.”

  Tibs looked up from examining the position of the other disks. “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 things up.”

  He shrugged and returned to studying the room.

  If he avoided the direct path, the distance between disks would make it circuitous, and with each added disk came an opportunity for Firmen to have trapped it in a way he couldn’t guess. But they all had one conveniently close, should he have to hurry off.

  Stretching to the next closest disk, since he wasn’t using the direct path, he could only place his foot on the edge, and the essence concentrated there to push back. He couldn’t tell if the essence would act predictably until he was on it. He pulled his foot back and hopped over, landing off center and had to quickly move as the disk’s wobble was more pronounced until it settled and supported his weight evenly.

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

  “Understanding how a puzzle works isn’t cheating.” He looked around for the next step. “It’s not even being sneaky. It’s just thinking a problem through. It’s why us thieves are the ones to deal with the traps and puzzles in a dungeon.”

  “Rogues,” they replied with derision. “No one’s ever told me anything about thieves being allowed in.”

  “I would really like to know how it is dungeons use the same terms the guild came up with,” he mused.

  “I’m sure you would,” Merka said. “Don’t count on me to be the one telling you.”

  Would they even know? From the conversations with Sto and Ganny, she’d been told what she needed to help Sto in being a dungeon. He didn’t remember if they’d talks about everything that had meant, but he doubted how terms had been decided on would matter.

  He could explain some of with by information Sto had absorbed when Runners died, but he was the first person with knowledge of the guild Firmen had encountered. Some dungeons could speak to each other, so it was possible information spread that way. But neither Merka nor Firmen had given indications they’d been contacted. And dungeons needed to be old to manage it. With only one floor, Firmen couldn’t be that old.

  He wished there was a city close by. It would have been interesting to read what scholars guessed at between runs.

  He picked the next one because it was an easy jump and landed in its center, only for the disk to tip as the essence moved only to one side. He jumped again, bypassing the one he could step to for the obvious trap that was and landed on that disk’s edge, having overshot the center in his rush. He slipped and landed on his back, a foot in the mud, and hurried to roll and grab onto the edge, his face nearly ending up in the mud as the disk settled.

  He panted, his heart racing as he pulled his foot out.

  He sat in the disk’s center and laughed. A room on a first floor 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 all its simplicity, the trap was a good one because he couldn’t know ahead of time how the essence would react to his weight. He had misjudged one aspect, in thinking the center would automatically be stable.

  He sensed as he shifted his weight, and once he knew which side was better at supporting his weight, used it to get to his feet.

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

  Tibs laughed again. “And it’s not helping me. I’ve got to know. Did you change how to the room’s set up because of me?”

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

  He shook his head. “I sensed that you made changes, but I wasn’t paying attention. Other than the maze’s layout, I have no idea what you changed.”

  “That’s cheating!” Merka yelled.

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

  “It only reacts once I’ve landed on the disk. I can only test those close by, and I already figured out they were traps. Once I jumped on this disk, I was too busy not falling off to sense what happened.”

  “I don’t trust it. It’s too willing to answer.”

  “Merka.” Tibs barely kept his annoyance under control. “My curiosity runs as deep as my reserve. It’s become harder to get answers from people as I aged and stopped looking like a child. So, short of a question that I think will end up hurting me, I’m going to satisfy Firmen, or yours, curiosity.”

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  “I don’t believe you.”

  He shrugged. “That’s on you.”

  He picked his next disk, as well as more around it in preparation for it being a trap. He jumped, then leaped off as it sunk as if it was in water, then he was stepping around where he landed to keep that disk from tipping.

  He was laughing again, hand on his knees, panting, once the disk had settled.

  He straightened and looked the way he’d come. He was nowhere close to the halfway point, but he was tempted to go back and test each disk until he knew how they all behaved.

  But he could do that on his next run. For this one, he had a teammate to rescue.

  The next disk could have been set on stone for how little it moved. The next one almost had him fall as it tipped up, under his feet, and forced him to make a blind jump, then two more before a bit of tiptoeing had him hand-on-knees, laughing.

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

  “This is fun!” The disk nearly tipped again as Tibs got to his feet.

  “It is not meant to be fun,” Firmen protested. “It is meant to push you. Kill you, if you fail.”

  He laughed again. “Those of us who survive the runs, we get to liking this. To tests ourselves against someone like you. We know we can die,” he scoffed. “It’s what makes surviving so exhilarating.” He sighed. “I missed this.”

  With a few breaths, he’d settled himself and jumped to the next disk. This time, he nearly fell forward, ready for it to move, when it didn’t. Four jumps after that, and a near fall, Tibs landed on the other side.

  “Can I ask a question?” Firmen asked.

  “Of course.”

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

  Tibs chuckled. “Too obvious. It looked like the path you wanted me to take.”

  “So, there’s no point in me doing that? No one will fall for its trap?”

  “I’m not saying that.” He considered how to explain it. “I made it to Sto’s fourth floor. I’ve learned some of how he thinks. I saw that path and knew it would be something he’d do on his first or second floor. The only ones who won’t fall for it are those who survived that room, and Runners who have been through enough of a dungeon to know to expect something like that.”

  “Why are you telling us that?” Merka sounded about to panic. “Firmen’s going to use that so he won’t waste time making the room any harder than it already is.”

  “I told you. Unless I think it’s going to hurt me, I am going to answer. Out of curiosity, you have one of the disk in the center path set to pull down in the mud, right?”

  When the answer came, it was uncertain. “Yes? How do you know?”

  Tibs chuckled. “I told you, I’ve been through a lot of runs. Keep that there, by the way.”

  “Why are you telling me to do that?” they asked. “It’s going to kill those who take it. Shouldn’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 falling in the mud doesn’t mean they’ll die. But it’s a lesson about taking the easy way.” Tibs headed into the corridor. “That’s rarely the right decision, in or out of dungeons.

  The room with the man was in sight when the creature stepped out of the tree.

  He was reluctant to call this one a Woodling, because it was taller than him, and with the massive build of a fighter.

  He formed his sword and shield and readied himself. It had a lot of essence, but it was all life, so no special abilities. Other than being in a corridor, it had the sense of a first floor boss, especially with his goal behind it and how it waited for him to approach.

  He rushed it, coating his legs with water to slide under its attempt to grab him and sliced at the leg. All that resulted was a bit of bark flying off.

  It would be tough.

  He brought his shield up with a curse, and the Wood Fighter’s kick that impacted it send him sliding almost to the door.

  Fast, as well; it was already running at him as Tibs got to his feet.

  He coated his arms with Earth, but kept himself from using metal to add sharpness to his sword. If it came to an argument, he could justify that, technically, coating himself wasn’t making use of essence. The added edge couldn’t fall under that.

  This time, when his shield took the fist’s impact, he only slid a few paces. His return slash bit deep, with the added strength. He attacked again, and the Wood Fighter caught the blade in its hand, some bark chipping off, then snapped it in two.

  The following blow sent Tibs into a tree with enough strength, his sight blurred. He ducked as the indistinct form rushed forward and shoved himself away from the wall, chastising himself for being surprised at the unexpected action.

  He reformed his sword as his vision cleared and focused on not getting hit. As he studied how the Wood creature moved, he noticed a fluidity that made him wonder if Firmen was controlling it directly. It hadn’t been until the third, or fourth floor Sto had mastered that, but without Runners to distract them, maybe possessing its creatures had been a way to pass the time.

  He dodged another rush.

  He couldn’t see a strategy beyond attempting to grab him. He ducked and slashed. Pale wood was exposed this time, but the sap that leaked out of it turned opaque and then was bark. So it could heal.

  After a fashion. This would still cost life essence, and it had to be limited, even if it hadn’t been enough for Tibs to sense the expense.

  He ducked.

  He’d have to work out the rules.

  He planted his sword in the creature’s exposed front and stepped away, leaving it there. He almost had it explode. But that would break the agreement.

  He recalled his broken sword’s essence and absorbed it. “Before you complain, Merka,” he ducked under the creature’s swing. “I’m not doing anything with it, just absorbing what’s mine.” Without being able to channel an element to quickly refill his reserves, he had to be judicious in their uses.

  He chuckled, anchoring himself and raising his shield. That wasn’t a problem he’d had to deal with in a long time. He took the punch on it and coated his legs in earth for the added strength.

  He pushed, slamming it into the trees that made the wall. He grabbed the sword and pulled it out sideways before hurrying away. More bark landed on the ground, and extra was added as it stepped away from the wall. This time, he could sense the life essence diminish as it healed.

  So this would be about attrition.

  He ducked under its swing as it rushed by, but wooden spikes erupted from the arm and cut his back.

  He bit the pain and cut deep before moving away. He used his life essence to stop the bleeding.

  “You’re in it, aren’t you, Firmen?”

  “No.”

  The Wood Fighter rushed him. The spikes extending the reach of its wild swings, making getting close to it dangerous.

  Tibs had been certain it was how it adapted so quickly. While he only had Sto’s creatures as experience, he’d talked with Omega Runners over the years. And they’d confirmed that first floors were predictable.

  That came with later floors.

  The spikes shattered on his shield, and Tibs hurried to cut at the exposed wood. Even badly aimed in the rush, he cut nearly halfway through the arm, then moved away from the other, reaching for him.

  When it swung again, Tibs brought his sword up instead of raising his shield. Its speed provided the force needed, and the arm was cut off. Then Tibs had to step away when, instead of screaming in pain, the creature turned to grab at him.

  Dungeon creatures didn’t feel pain. He couldn’t use that, or anger, to get them to make mistakes. He stepped back as the Wood Fighter advanced, flaying its arms at him in what seemed like a blind attack. He raised his shield and spikes broke off it.

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

  The added cuts only seem to make its attacks more mindless. Then he cut the other arm off and instead of continuing to attack, the creature paused, looking at it, then the other. Even without features on its face, Tibs thought he saw confusion. As he was trying to work through what was happening, it threw its arms wide, then fell to its side.

  Moss creeps over it, absorbing it.

  There was still essence in it.

  How had—

  “Gave up?” Firmen asked.

  Tibs looked up. “What?”

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

  Tibs stared. The form under the moss was… deflating was the best words he could think of. “That was Merka?”

  “Yes,” 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 in favor of sensing his injuries.

  He should heal them. The splint kept them from getting worse, but it would make the next fights difficult.

  But the run wasn’t done.

  He headed for the door. As with everything else, it was made of trees. But here, it had the look of rough lumber. The kind he’d find in houses built out of felled trees.

  It did have one thing out of place.

  The lock was metal. No intricacy to how it had been worked, but the mechanism within was as complex as any 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. And I can tell which pins are tricked.”

  “Tricked pins?”

  “Some locks have pins notched, so it feels like they’re set when they aren’t. We learn to tell the difference of the feel, but it slows things down.” The lock clicked, and the door moved inward. “Here, how long it takes isn’t a problem, but when breaking into a house, any delay can lead to a guard walking in on me while working.”

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

  “Stay where you are.” Then, because of the confused expression, he repeated it in the local dialect.

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

  “Are…. Are you a spirit?” the man asked fearfully as Tibs crouched before him. 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 the wall to his left. The dungeon’s exit was behind it.

  He looked up and mouthed, “Please.”

  “What happened?” Merka asked mockingly. “We’re not good enough to speak to anymore?”

  “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.”

  He nodded to the wall again.

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

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

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

  “This isn’t about what we want, 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 arms whimpered as Tibs stepped into the forest and, to his surprise, into the morning light.

  Bottom Rung is available on KU:

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