Stepping Wild (Dungeon Runner 04)

Getting himself in a cell in the same building as Charlie only required that Tibs, acting drunk, punched one of the guards exiting that building. He was easily subdued, brought in, and thrown into a cell that happened to be the one facing the fighter. Once the guards exited, Tibs stood. Unlike what he'd expected, instead of being in the cells closest to the doors, they were in the furthest ones, even if all the others were empty.

Charlie was still staring in disbelief as Tibs reached the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting you out."

Uzoma had suggested they leave the fighter where he was, but beyond needing him for the job, Tibs didn't let teammates rot in cells when he could help it.

"Are you here because of the fire?"

Charlie looked at the door.

"The door's too thick for them to hear through it." There was no one on the other side. "And I'm just a drunk. They aren't going to bother listening." The walls also didn't have listening holes someone might be on the other end of, hoping to hear how the crime had been committed.

Tibs had only encountered those once, years ago, when what he'd stolen had gotten him embroiled in a fight against the baron running the city.

"I was already well away when I ran into the guards. They were just pissed I actually ran into them. When they tried to make me pay, I defended myself and…." He motioned to where he was. "There was more of them than me."

"Do they know who you are?"

The fighter shook his head. "They didn't care enough to process me. They dragged me and threw me in here." He studied Tibs. "How did you end up here? Cynta finally have enough of you refusing her advances? She talked them into arresting you?"

"I punched one of them outside the building."

Charlie stared, then shook himself. "Okay. Then what's the plan?"

"Leaving."

"How? Walking through the wall?"

Tibs rolled his eyes. "They made doors for that."

It was the fighter's turn to roll his eyes as he stepped to the door and shook it. Metal rattled against metal and it remained closed.

"Unless you have some magic that lets you walk through the bars, we aren't getting out that way."

"I don't need magic for doors." He reached into his hair and formed the pick and tension bar he'd need to unlock the door.

He'd been tempted to secret his pick among his clothing to see if they would be found, but if they did, they might treat him like more than a drunk, so those had been left behind. He'd left one bracer behind, while the other was tied around his ankle. He'd had to keep one on him so he could maintain the etching over his brand, and he figured that as a drunk, even if they searched him, they wouldn't bother with his lower body.

"How did they miss that?" Charlie asked.

"I guess that drunks don't warrant being searched." Not that he could rely on that with every guard, but with these? The pick could have been in his hands, and they wouldn't have known.

"That's the cells' doors. There are still the guards on the other side of that one. At least a dozen of them."

"Six, when they brought me in." They were down to one now. "After the sun has set, there's going to be fewer than that."

Charlie dropped onto his bench. "You thought of everything, didn't you?"

He sat, too. "No, but adapting to what happens is how I get out of situations like this." He smiled, brandishing his tool. "That, and cheating."

The fighter stretched out. "Then I better make sure I'm in top form for when we walk out. You know, in case things don't go as you expect."

He chuckled. Things never went as he expected. But he had essence to let him deal with however that manifested.

* * * * *

Things were definitely not going the way Tibs wanted.

Instead of more guards leaving then staying, until there would be, at most, the two needed to look over the prisoners. The numbers had increased as day approached evening. Six, then seven, nine, then eleven. There had been fifteen for a time, but four had just left, bringing them down to eleven.

He'd spent enough time in cells in various cities to have an understanding of how they worked. People in cells slept at night, so few guards were needed to look after them. More were needed patrolling the streets. On top of that, those few guards were rarely at their best. Boredom easily set in when nothing happened.

He'd known this city was run more efficiently, but this was beyond his expectation. He needed to get him and Charlie out before the guards figured out who they were and whichever one worked for the Master reported that to the man.

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As careful as they'd been, the Master had to know he, Charlie, Cynta and Uzoma hung together.

Tibs was confident the Master knew nothing of their plans. He'd made sure none of his people were around when they'd done jobs they could be identified in, and the witnesses for the fabric robbery had remained silent. He couldn't know what they thought had happened without asking, and he wasn't that curious, but he had followed them for a few days afterward and they'd only gone along their work.

He sensed, hoping the numbers had changed. Eleven guards.

Sneaking out couldn't happen anymore.

Fighting gave them reasons to chase and remember the two of them. If whoever worked for the Master among them had been given either of their description? Had one of the guards written their description for the city? Charlie was relatively forgettable, but Tibs's ink made him distinctive, and he knew his sleeve had come up while he'd been manhandled. No one had made notes while they carried him in, but afterward? Tibs hadn't paid attention to what their motion might imply.

He could undo the etching, which would mean the guards wouldn't know he was the same person, but were there adventurers in the city? Almost certainly. Anywhere with a transportation platform and nobles saw adventurers. Either looking for work or on guild business. They'd have to be actively sensing for the essence the brand left behind, but it only took a general sensing of essence, not specifically this one. He doubted many adventurers spent their entire time sensing, but it only took one.

And there was the danger of Charlie noting it was gone. He'd have to keep his arm covered to prevent that. And if he was doing that, was there a point in undoing it at all?

How long could they wait? The extra guards couldn't stay all night? He should have taken the time to find out what he'd be dealing with, instead of assuming this city would be like every other. And waiting meant the fighter would be more tired. He might have claimed he'd sleep, but Tibs doubted that.

He stood, and as he'd expected, Charlie sat.

He acted as lookout while Tibs unlocked his cell door, then the fighter's.

The guards were milling together in the room to the side. He wished he could listen to them. There might be a clue as to why there were so many of them here, or if some were about to leave. Unfortunately, he couldn't pull air through wood, so that etching wouldn't help. He added coming up with a way to have words come through wood to the list of things he needed to work out.

"We're breaking for the exit," he said as Charlie exited his cell. "Shove anyone out of your way. We don't have time to fight." Without being certain these numbers were the usual, he couldn't warn the fighter. "Once outside, we head for the closest alley."

"There aren't going to be any lights there."

"That's why. They'll need lanterns and we'll know where they are."

"Okay. Maybe you can see in the dark, but I'm going to need a lantern too."

He cursed. He kept forgetting. How wide was Claria? He didn't bother keeping track. And while that could be how he explained navigating in the dark, it wouldn't make Charlie able to do the same.

"How good are you at climbing?"

"I'm not a rat scampering up walls, but you give me something to grab on and I can pull myself up."

"Then I'll take you to a roof you can get on and we'll wait there for them to go by us."

"And you just happen to know where there's one of those?"

"I'm a roof runner. I paid attention to them while I got myself arrested." He motioned for silence.

He placed the pick in the lock and sensed the layout on the other side of the door; what he'd have to work with. It was a straight line to the door. There was a desk by this door. Weapons on a rack by the exit. Seven lamps, four in the room the guards were, two on the wall and one on the desk. A fire with stone on three sides and rising above it. The guards only had knives on them at the moment. Hopefully, they thought of them as things to eat with, and not weapons to reach for at a moment's notice. Wooden chairs, a table, the desk, the rack. The ceiling beams. The air in the room, the earth in the ground.

There was plenty, if he didn't mind revealing he had an element. Even the one thing he could think of doing came with potential question as to how it might have happened. When the fire in the fireplace went out along with the lamps, they would wonder.

He had to accept that and hope that without outright evidence of magic, they'd come up with their own reasons for it.

He's seen it happen before.

He unlocked the door and placed a hand on the handle. He readied his will and looked at Charlie, who nodded. He shoved the door open and, as soon as the exit was visible, he extinguished all sources of light.

Charlie joined the guards in cursing. Everyone moved. He and the fighter ran for the exit, and guards rushed out of the room much faster than Tibs had expected.

He shouldered one out of his way. Charlie punched another. The guards now grabbed blindly. He ducked under one, shoved them out of his way. Then stars exploded along with pain at the back of his head. Someone's arms wrapped around him and he couldn't think how to untangle himself.

"I got one!"

With a snarl, Tibs channeled Earth. He reached over his head and grabbed hold of the armor, then he threw the man over him. Charlie was against the walls, struggling with the guards, who were pressed against him.

Tibs angrily grabbed the back of leather armor and threw them off. Bodies hit wall. Twice he sensed essence break. A shoulder and a leg.

They were keeping him and his teammate from leaving, so they deserved what they got. They were endangering the job and his team getting their reward. Setting the room on fire was tempting, something as hot as his anger to teach them better. But he forced it down. Fire would draw attention. Provide light for people to see them run.

He had Earth, so why not have the ground swallow them?

Only they would be missed, and he didn't have the time to ensure the surface showed no trace of what he did. He couldn't also send them so deep they couldn't be unearthed.

He grabbed the handle in a hand, Charlie with the other, pulled one open and shoved the other outside. Escaping was more important than making anyone pay for getting in his way.

He let go of Earth as he slammed the door shut behind him, grabbed Charlie again and sensed around for a low roof while staying out of the street's lamps.

The one he found was nowhere near as deep into the alley as he'd want, but Charlie needed to see, and the guards were rallying. He helped the fighter clamper up, then joined him. He focused on getting his anger under control while sensing the guards run past.

He needed a day with nothing to worry about if his anger was that easy to trigger.

"Is it safe?" Charlie eventually whispered.

He focused on the guards, now blocks away in multiple streets. Three were in the guardhouse, the two he'd injured and another, but they were away from the door.

"Yes." He climbed down and Charlie clumsily followed.

The fighter rested against the wall and laughed. "I can't believe how lucky we were."

"That's not—" He closed his mouth. Not only was it waste of breath, but how could he explain what had happened as anything other than that, if he didn't tell him about how he'd used essence? "Yeah. I guess we were."