Stepping Wild (Dungeon Runner 04)

Tibs transcribed another song, this one telling of villagers vanishing into a dark forest of madness where monsters reign. It joined others he'd transcribed. One about a brave adventurer fighting monsters through a forest of madness to rescue his love. Another involved an epic battle against dungeon made monsters in a dark forest, not that the song ever mentioned a dungeon.

He couldn't know if there were any truths to them. Bards had sung them, after all, but they had one thing in common. They all originated in the kingdom of Herfitar, which was where the region that had been mentioned in another book was located.

Not having anything else to go on, for the search into dungeons the guild didn't know about, he'd looked at tomes of census, hoping something in those records would hint at where he might find one.

He had no idea why scholars went around asking for births, and deaths, and the how the people had died, but for as long as he'd been reading in libraries, he'd seen those tomes, and some of them were ancient. He'd hoped that there would be something in the how people died that would give him a direction to search.

Instead, what pointed him to Herfitar, was a comment in the margin of one such tome.

Why does the Ashimeter region have so many more vanishing that elsewhere?

The tome hadn't discussed vanishings, just birth, deaths, and the how they had happened. So the note had to have been left by another scholar looking through the tome, maybe searching for answers about that in how people had died, and not finding it, had written his frustration.

Looking into the region gave him the kingdom, and almost immediately, a song. For the love of danger. He'd looked it over and dismissed it as another example of bards making up whatever they wanted. He'd dismissed a second one for much the same reason, when he came across it in a book a caravan master had written on the kingdom's roads.

When he found a third one, this one in a herbalist's short work on the plants of Ashimeter, and their uses in maintaining the body's essences, something nagged at him.

The fourth one was in a report from a guard, an aside recounting a stop at a tavern beside a forest. By then, Tibs had a sense of the kingdom, and was confident that forest was within Ashimeter. And the untitled song recounted a hunt that woke a great beast within the dark forest.

And he realized each song had been about, or taken place within a forest.

Then he hunted down the bard who had written them. No longer the arduous task he'd envision such search to be when he was younger. Scholars loved collecting songs, then talking about what they meant, as if they spoke truths, instead of flight of fancy.

His first surprised had been that in spite of the similarities, the three songs he was able to find the original singer for hadn't been sung by the same person. Three, possibly four bards, had sung about events taking place in the same area, and using similar descriptives.

The forest was dark, or maddening, or oppressive. The creature was large, or massive, or lumbering. The hero of the song never emerged intact.

Bards made up their songs, but if many of them, at, as best as he could find, different times, included similar details about a location in the same region, could their inspiration have been the same event? Or multiple events following similar patterns?

A tome about the kingdom had maps of varying regions, including Ashimeter. It predated the oldest song by at least a century, showing it was mainly forested, with villages dotting the edge and one town. The few comments related to the wood trade there. Nothing about monsters or vanishing. But things changed in a century.

Herfitar was three kingdoms zenithward.

Only a few days away from that house, and the incessant comings and goings of nobles, and he now had a possibility months away instead of years.

Lord Tieran's presence was required at the start of each one, but he made his boredom at the business discussions obvious, so that when he walked away, hardly anyone noticed. The one time one of the nobles had asked him, he'd replied that all this talk had tired him out, and he was going to rest.

From there, leaving was simple. If he didn't feel like running the roofs, he changed into servant's clothes and mixed in with the others before leaving. No one even noticed the extra servant.

He looked over the songs, noting the common details. The one thing none of them included were directions to where the adventures took place. The one time he decided to rely on bards songs, and they couldn't be bothered to sing about the route the hero had taken.

He put them away, then returned the books where they belonged. He'd have more days to peer over them for clues in the wording. Possibly more time to look through other books, although he was running out of that.

This morning, Cynta had told him that while discussing potential investments with Lord Fyrbrend, the noble had 'let slip' his intention to host the gathering that would officially present the Hollomeir to the city's nobles.

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Which meant Tibs now had information to gather in a more straightforward way.

* * * * *

The Fyrbrend's house sat in the center of a green space dotted with colors and narrow paths going from it to the three entrances to their land from the roads. Each guarded. A fourth lead to the carriage house, which was built within that wall so that the horses never had to sully the oh so pristine grass.

Ten houses? Fifteen? How many common folks could be housed if these nobles didn't need to surround themselves with so much greenery? He doubted that they'd ever considered the added difficulty this gave any thief who wanted to reach their roof. They looked at the nearly uninterrupted line of sight from the guards at the house to the wall and had been satisfied that whoever needed to suffer for their comfort didn't matter.

Of course, that added difficulty only counted when dealing with thief who didn't have an element. The proper application of essence tended to simplify nearly everything.

He channeled Air and sent disks ahead of him. A series of leaps and he was on the roof. He couldn't enter through either balcony doors, because of the weave over them, but none of the windows had them.

Of course, unlike the balcony, a thief couldn't simply drop to it and then deal with how to enter. They'd need to climb down. The wall was made of large stones, and they were set close enough together there was hardly space to lodge pitons into unless the thief was unusually strong. Or had an element. But then, if they had Earth, it would be easy, until they reached the window's ledge.

Would they know to temper the strength they'd built to reach it? Wood was easy to crush, and that would cause them to fall.

Not that Tibs would have that problem. It was Wood. He'd be able to tell exactly how hard to hold on to keep it from breaking off.

Abyss, if he wanted to make it easy on him, he could make a disk out of Air and lower himself to the window, or make a ladder out of ice, or metal, or wood, or stone. He had so many options when it came to easy that it had grown boring.

There were times when he needed to use the easy way.

Tonight wasn't such a time. He was a Runner. He enjoyed a challenge.

He grabbed onto the roof's edge and lowered himself. His feet weren't even close to the window, not that it would help. What he needed was to grab the sill under the window. And he'd only do that by climbing down.

He fought the urge to channel stone as he placed his fingertips into a gap and lowered himself. It hurt, but it was the kind of pain that came from working hard, and Tibs enjoyed that kind of—

His fingers slipped, and he slid down. He sensed the windowsill and channeled Wood just before passing it, and grabbed it.

And it held him.

He chuckled, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. "That's good," he told the wood, patting it.

It was good indeed. Strong and resilient. It was a shame it had to be cut down so some noble could make a windowsill out of it. It should have been allowed to continue growing, reach for the sun, spread its branches. It could still do that, he realized. He could help it grow again, return it to the magnificent being it had once been.

Tibs shook Wood's lingering influence out.

He'd have to make time to practice again. He'd expected to be better at ignoring it.

The bedroom was empty; it was early for nobles. The metal shim slipped between the window and frame and pushed the latch. Then he entered.

An etching of Purity took care of his shoulder, then papers and charcoal in hand, he set about mapping the house for his team.

* * * * *

Charlie motioned to the papers Tibs arranged on the table to recreate the floor plan of the house. "Explain why you didn't just take their money, if you were already in there."

"Because I couldn't take all of it." He looked at the fighter. "Even you'll have trouble carrying it all."

"Which is why we're dividing it among us," Uzoma said, and Tibs was surprised at the lack of accusation in the tone. It seemed he'd been wrong. The archer had gotten over his suspicions of him.

"Did you get the bags?" Cynta asked.

"From the stone seller," Uzoma replied. "The ones they put on horses."

"I tested the leather and the seams," Charlie added. "We can fill them until the leather stretches and they will hold."

Tibs motioned to the papers. "The Fyrbrend's house has five floors and a cellar, which hides the safe."

"If there are guards by the entrance," Uzoma said, "they won't be able to leave their post, even if the house is burning down around them."

"That comment was good for a few laughs," Charlie said. "From everyone else there." He tapped the outside doors. "They have two at each one, and if they need to carry a message to the lord or lady, only one of them can go. Same with the guards at the gate and carriage house. And there will be two other guards somewhere in the yard. We can't pay them to ignore what we'll be doing. The Fyrbrend are harsh masters, but they understand the power of money."

"That's okay," Cynta said. "I will be led to the cellar by the lord of the house himself. And of course, I would never go somewhere, with only a man I can't really trust yet, without at least one of my guards." She smiled. "After all, who would protect me from whatever his intentions really are?"

Tibs tapped the room on the third floor. "The lady's office is Fleet Finger's target. Once Cynta has been convinced by the lord she needs to see his cellar, I'll excuse myself. I've done it enough during those abyss meetings of yours that no one will question it. I've already hidden his costume, and I'm used to changing in a hurry. Charlie, you won't be able to miss the noise I'll make, even down there. You need to subdue the lord and his guard without anyone outside the room noticing. Uzoma, when he gives the signal, you need to clear the way to the exit. Avoid killing if you can, but you need to make your escape the priority. Cynta, how about this household?"

"As soon as Gerald loses sight of us, he'll dismiss the servants with added pay. The theater folks will empty the house. By the time anyone is able to check it, there will be nothing left in it."

"And as they look into everything we've claimed," Tibs added, "all they'll find is that none of it was real."

"Isn't this putting the servants in danger?" Uzoma asked. "Nobles tend to lash out when angry."

"How are they going to find any of them?" Charlie replied. "It's not like nobles ask for names when it comes to the servants."

"And none of them are remarkable," Cynta added. "As far as they are concerned, it was honest employment. Of those in the house, Gerald in the only one who knows more, but as soon as the last of the servants have left, he'll be nothing more than another actor at a scorned theater."

"Five days." He looked at his team. "In five days, you'll have more coins than you ever dreamed of having, and we will have ruined one of the highest nobles in the city."