Tibs studied the animals throughout the room and classed them by how dangerous their attacks were. The raccoons had the longest claws, the rats sharpest teeth, and the rabbits fell between the two, but with the added ability to leap over the attackers distracting him.

  He ran in. He wasn’t letting them take control of the fight this time.

  He jumped over the raccoons, who’d taken the lead, slashing at their back, and brought up his shield for the jumping rabbit to collide against. On landing he spun, slashing low to the ground, and cut a bunch of the slower rats. He also got a raccoon and a couple of rabbits.

  Then he attacked a flank as they adjusted to his new location. Claws sunk in his exposed leg; the sword went through the raccoon’s back. He kicked a rat and shield-smashed a rabbit aside. He barreled through the animals. It earned him more cuts, but kept them from grabbing onto him as he slashed, kicked, and bashed more of them.

  He turned to face the remainders; about half of the starting number left.

  He let them approach.

  They displayed no more cunning than he’d expect from animals. The raccoon skirted around to surround him, while the rats charged in blindly and the rabbits held back, waiting for an opening. They might be more cunning, but nothing to the level of what he knew Firmen was capable of.

  He slashed the rats, leaped over the raccoons when they were close enough, only attacking them if it didn’t get in the way of blocking the jumping rabbits.

  The fight was slower than he’d like, but by the time all the animals were dead, he’d only added a few cuts and one bruise when a rabbit slammed into him, which hurt if he breathed too deeply.

  He picked the lock on the cache out of curiosity for what he sensed it contained. He couldn’t use the bow, but figured without it in hand, he’d reveal more than Firmen had realized. It was plain wood, and the string was wrapped at one end. Most of the wear was near the grip, with the scuffs and notches giving the impression its owner had learned to shoot with it.

  “This is from someone who ventured into you, isn’t it?” there were few places where Firmen could have learned to make it.

  “Yes.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Some time.” There was a shrug in the words. “I don’t—”

  “Bother keeping track.” Firmen could tell time passed by the way the light essence from the sun shifted, then nearly completely went away, but time didn’t mean the same for a dungeon.

  “Yes.”

  “The same person who had the cloak?”

  “No.”

  Then he could bring some comfort to two families; if he could bring the bow out. He was continuing with the run, so he needed a way to carry it. He knew how to not carry a bow from the number of times he’d heard caravan guards correct newbies trying to learn, but without a pouch of holding, it was the only way left.

  Bending the bow to sting it, without using essence, took more work than he’d expect. He barely remembered using a bow once, in his early days as a runner, and discovering he was as bad at aiming with it as he was throwing knives. He had strung a few up over the years, but had used Earth to make himself stronger. He used a leg as a fulcrum and managed to bring the string’s loop over, but was left panting harder than the fight.

  He slipped an arm through and rested it over his shoulder. It placed the string close to his face. But his movements weren’t impeded. He counted on Firmen or Merka not understanding the position this putting him in, otherwise them using the bow against him would hurt, and result in losing it when he had to cut the string.

  He tried to make sense of the essence in the boss room, even if he wasn’t close to it, because it confused him. The mass was spread under the floor, which was divided into large irregular tiles. Whatever else there would be, agility would play a part in surviving.

  He encountered two Woodlings on the way to the mud-room, each the same as the one from the previous run, both in how they looked and fought. Neither attempted to grab the bow, which was encouraging.

  The cache in the mud room contained boots, which he left behind. He didn’t need them and didn’t want to be encumbered.

  The expected fight on the way to the tile room kept him on edge by not happening. The sliding puzzle bared the door again, and the tiles were the same. The cache contained well tanned furs, which he wished he could take to support why he’d been out so long without having to do any of the work. Hopefully Firmen had a pack in his loot list. As it was, he decided that if they were still there when he exited, he’d take them, and the boots, and anything he might have a use for.

  Animals leaped out of the trunks faster than Tibs could react, which added cuts and bites before he’d dealt with them.

  He remained on guard the entire way to the last door.

  It looked like the other one. Logs attached together with vines within the frame. It even had the gap at the top and bottom. The lack of the essence array, as well as the logs having a normal feel to them wasn’t the only difference. It had a handle made of twigs, and the hinges were on this side.

  He cautiously pulled it open; and looked in.

  The empty room looked more like one he’d expect to see in a building than the previous ones. The irregular tiles were wood and fitted too well to be made by artisans. The walls were still trunks, but without thickets, and pushed against each other, so they looked more like a purposeful decorative element than trees he’d expect to see outside.

  He crouched and studied what he sensed under the floor.

  The essence now writhed, the wrapped coils of them making him think of a nest of newly born serpents he’d once seen, although this was much larger, spreading under a quarter of the floor, the rest of the essence feeling like a peaceful lake comparatively, with pockets of it among the swirling. Nothing of the essences and Arcanus gave an indication of what this would do.

  The boss-chest, on the other side of the room, was an unimpressive stack of logs, although the metal essence in it was substantial. Armor, at least a chest piece and possibly more. He’d need more time to focus and tell for sure, but, as he studied the room, he had an idea for an exchange he hoped Firmen thought was fair.

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  He paid attention to what writhed under the floor, ready for it to act, as he stepped in. As random as it felt, he was certain he was simply missing something that would reveal the order to it. When it didn’t change, he took another step toward the chest.

  Another step.

  What was the dungeon waiting for?

  No, what was Merka waiting for. Whatever this was, they were the one behind it.

  Another step and he stopped, ready to react to the coiling he’d sensed.

  Or thought he’d sensed? Nothing happened. The impression of a snake’s nest had set expectations he needed to shake off or they might kill him. He wasn’t fighting snakes; he was fighting a dung—

  The explosion under him sent him tumbling, barely pulling into a ball to keep from breaking something. He stood, searched through the cloud of wooden debris for the mass of essence he sensed rising, then stared at the long neck and head, the pointed teeth.

  His expectations were being—

  This time, he sensed the essence gathering under him and ran, but not fast enough. The edge of the explosion the other snake’s head caused threw him off his feet and he planted his sword into the wooden floor to stop his slide toward the slab where more essence coiled.

  It exploded, and a third head rose as Tibs stood.

  Merka cackled.

  Tibs was…impressed.

  That was larger than anything Sto had managed on his first floor.

  The sleek bodies and head rose to twice his height and were only slightly thinner than he was wide; he sensed more coiling under the floor, warning him they would have reach.

  A head proved it by lunging him, maw open, and he leaped aside, only for another to come at him. He threw himself under the neck and swung at the third as it attempted to bite it, but only resulted in cutting the tip of the ‘muzzle’ off.

  Unlike the Woodlings, it didn’t bleed essence.

  It tried again, and Tibs stepped aside, turning to ready himself for whatever the pocket of wood essence rushing through that head’s throat would do. The maw opened, and he sensed it take shape, but it was too late to do more than run, shield up, as wooden spikes erupted.

  Pain exploded and threw him against the wall. Wood jutted out of him above the hip. He pushed through the pain and cut the exposed length.

  “Now I have you!” Merka yelled, the head coming at him, maw opened wide.

  He raised his shield to block it, and was jerked as it closed on the top and bottom, a long teeth piercing his shoulder. He painfully flew off the wooden pike that kept him against the wall, and pushed through it as the snake shook its head, and him.

  “Let go already,” Merka complained, and Tibs had a moment of confusion they could speak so clearly with his shield in their maw.

  With a scream that was as much pain as anger, he swung, then he fell, and had the breath crushed out of him by the head landing on top when he reached the floor. He fought through the light, pulling him down, and struggled to push the head off.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Essence gathered, and another head exploded to the floor next to the other two, and all three lunged at him.

  “Stop,” Firmen said.

  The heads froze in place.

  “Don’t protect it!”

  Tibs freed himself and sensed his injuries. Unlike what he’d thought, he hadn’t been pulled off the wooden pike; it had broken off the wall and kept his essence from pouring out.

  “I’m not. You are cheating.”

  The tooth hadn’t gone deep, although it had ripped muscle on the way out.

  “How can you say that!”

  “He cut off a head.”

  “And I—”

  “A three-headed snake, Merka. That’s the creature we agreed on for this room. That is what he needs to defeat.”

  “But I just—”

  “Snakes don’t regrow their heads.”

  “But he—”

  “I will not have either of you cheating,” Firmen snapped. “If you can’t do this within the rules, get out and let the snake fight on its own.”

  He pushed to his feet.

  Three-headed meant one body. Somewhere under the floor, in that mass of essence, was what he’d have to destroy to keep from fighting each head. Although it had been easy to cut one off, so it might remain the easier option without an element to use against the hidden body.

  Another time. Once he could justify having an element.

  The heads moved away. The newest one dissolved into the floor, and that slab reformed. Another thing he’d missed was that they didn’t move out of the broken slab, just lunged.

  “Good,” Firmen said once the floor looked complete, and a head rushed at Tibs.

  He was slow, and the pain as the head bumped into him, instead of the jaws closing on his chest, threw his swing off, only cutting partway into the neck.

  Merka screamed angrily as the other head lunged.

  He stumbled, and it bit his leg. He screamed as he planted the sword in the head, and when it shook, the blade cut through and Tibs flew across the room. His head swam when he was able to get to his feet. He no longer held the shield and hoped Firmen hadn’t absorbed it.

  The two heads faced him crookedly.

  The cuts had done nothing to the amount of life essence they had, but Merka couldn’t repair the damage, so they weren’t sitting on the necks properly. Water essence rose through a neck, and the head opened its maw. Spikes of ice flew at him, and he barely stayed up as the impact against his armor on the way in, and out, staggered him. He was tempted to use that essence to seal his injuries, but was lucid enough to know it went against the rules.

  When the barrage ended, he smiled and straightened.

  “What?” Merka exclaimed. “How? You cheated!”

  “I didn’t use essence,” he replied, barely keeping his voice steady.

  “Firmen, it cheated!”

  “He did nothing.” The dungeon sounded puzzled.

  “But it can’t survive attacks like that. You saw what the wood spikes did to it.”

  “And he did nothing then, either.” Their puzzlement didn’t lessen.

  Tibs used the time to settle his breathing, confirm his shield still existed, although it was well out of reach, and readied himself. What he planned would hurt, but he had to take advantage of the situation.

  “I expect he will have an explanation,” Firmen said, as Tibs ran. “You said rogues are the sneaky ones.”

  “It isn’t a rogue,” Merka said with derision, as Tibs sliced through the rest of the partially cut neck.

  “But he is sneaky.”

  Tibs turned.

  “It can’t do that! I was talking with you!”

  “If you can’t focus on the fight,” Tibs said, his panting heavy and too tired to move to the other neck to finish cutting it. “That’s not my fault.”

  “Oh, I am focused on you now. And one head is enough to finish you.”

  He smiled. “Part of one.”

  Merka snorted and rushed him, maw opened. Instead of the jaws, the side of the head hit him, and he cut it again before landing on his back and his sight going bright. It cleared as they attacked again, but the end of the neck that impacted, instead of the head, was mushy and only caused pain, instead of adding to his numerous injuries.

  They screamed in frustration, turning for another attack, but the head missed him again. The soft end squishing him against the floor. If he needed to breathe, they could smother him like this. Instead, the head rose again, and Tibs prepared himself. There was little left of the neck.

  He swung and connected. The impact wrenched the sword out of his hand, but the head fell next to him. Merka screamed.

  “Is it okay if I heal myself now?” he asked, the damage to his chest making breathing difficult.

  “You aren’t out yet,” Merka said hatefully.

  “Merka is right. The run isn’t done until you exit. You also haven’t taken your prize yet.”

  He forced himself to his feet and retrieved his sword and shield. He glanced at the chest. “I’m not taking it. In exchange, I’d like a favor…when I come back.”

  “What favor?” Firmen asked, while Merka screamed for them to stop talking to Tibs.

  As hard as he tried, as certain as he was he’d known what he was going to ask when he’d decided not to take reward, it wouldn’t come to him. “I’ll tell you after I’m healed and rested.” Something nagged at him that waiting would only serve the dungeon, but without remembering what he wanted, there was nothing else he could do.

  He looked at the wall, on the other side of which he knew the exit was. “Oh, and you might want to look into making shortcuts to the exit for when a team wins. It’s really not fair to make them go through everything a second time on the way out.”

  He kicked a piece of broken wood as he moved to the room’s exit and frowned at it and the others. Merka hadn’t used a staff, and the wooden spiked had fallen off far enough Firmen had absorbed them. Why…? He patted himself. The bow was no longer there.

  Of course, it wouldn’t have survived the fight.

  He gathered them, wondering if Firmen had kept from absorbing them because he knew Tibs needed them, or he’d simply hadn’t moved far enough for the dungeon to do so. Then he set about taking the only way provided to the exit.

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