Stepping Wild (Dungeon Runner 04)

Tibs crouched on the roof, within the chimney's stretching shadow, and looked over the plaza. The etching wrapped around him ensured none of the roof watchers looking his way could make him out.

He would have preferred pulling off this demonstration in a market, because those had more people to watch, and then talk about it. But with the caravan in the city, the only busy market was theirs, and he didn't want to give the people in charge excuses to harass them, since it was how the weapons he'd weakened arrived. He was sure they were already going to try to blame them for it, but this was where having their own guards protecting that cargo should keep the caravan leader from shouldering the blame.

This plaza was nearly at the center of the city, to the side of the intersection of the road crossing it from sunset to sunrise and the one going from the transportation platform to the warehouse area by the city wall. He thought that before travel to the city was restricted, this had been a market. One of the road headed for an artisan neighborhood, another eventually reached the offices handing merchant permits.

Now, trees provided shade, and benches places for people to sit and rest before proceeding. A few taverns had tables around their doors and some took tankards to shaded benches to enjoy them.

Instead of booths, people walked among the wary travelers, offering trinkets and small things to eat. Anytime a guard noticed one, they chased them off as if they were miscreants instead of enterprising citizens. A few of the guards turned a blind eye to them, and Tibs thought better of those.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to keep them from the coming humiliation he was about to administer. They, like the other guards out of the local guardhouse, had the weakened weapons and armor. He didn't have the time to look for another place. The demonstration needed to happen before someone realized their weapons were fragile.

Another thing going for this plaza was that the young copper haired hunter wasn't there. So much for her having worked out his plans.

An Air etching sent him in over the plaza as if he'd run to the edge, and a lone attentive guard pointed to him from the ground, while one of the roof watcher let an arrow loose. Tibs caused it to miss him, and landed with a flourish that had his colorful cloak bellowing around him, catching another arrow aimed for his chest.

"Good day, citizens!" he greeted the fleeing people. "I am so glad to see so many of you doing your part to maintain the economy of this fine city." He threw silvers in the air and dispersed them with an etching. "Let me help! Even if those in power won't let the recipients of your business benefit anymore than needed to keep you all under their heels." He ducked a guard's swing. "If you'll excuse me, it seems said heel isn't pleased with me." He sidestepped the thrust, then stepped back to keep the other guard from crowding him.

He couldn't simply take a strike and have the sword shatter. The Nimble Roamer had never taken the guards on in a fight. He was about putting on a show, humiliating the guards as they tried to prevent him from escaping. For this to turn into a fight, he needed the guards to force the issue.

And they were happy to do so.

He dodged another attack, then ran for the closest alley, laughing and throwing disparaging comments on his attacker's competency. The arrow that landed at his feet caused him to stumble, then throw himself out of the way of the next one. Before he ran for the alley again, a handful of roof watchers dropped, blocking it.

Their weapons weren't weakened, so he had to be careful, but it would only serve to add to the effect once Tibs had to defend himself.

He let them herd him, but tried for another escape, only for an arrow to barely miss him, forcing him back toward them. He dodged a polearm thrust, then leaped over an eager guard, only to have to sidestep another's swing and find himself with his back to a box filled open cart.

He intercepted a roof watcher's attack aimed for his head with a wooden box, and it shattered from the impact. He caught a metal plate that fell and deflected that attacker's swing with it. A kick sent the man away, letting a guard approach, sword overhead and already coming down. He raised the plate, cringing as if he didn't think that would be enough to save him.

The impact was strong enough it traveled along his arm, but instead of cutting through the plate, the woman stumbled, off balance from strength of her swing, looking at the shattered metal jutting from the guard.

Shards of metal rained down.

He straightened, affecting a surprised expression to match the others, frozen, watching them. He looked at his dented plate with the same disbelief she was looking at her broken sword. Only he smiled and hit her across the face with it, shattering everyone's surprise and restarting the fight.

He used it to block a roof watcher's thrust, stepping out of the way of the point when it went through. With a twist, he wrenched the sword out of the woman's hand and threw both away.

He dodged attacks as he ran for the cart. He leaped on and kicked boxes at the guards trying to follow him there. In the process, he uncovered a box the length of his arm containing two metal candelabras, by what he sensed. He jumped over the guards climbing on the cart, reinforcing the candelabras. He raised the box to block the guard's swing. The wood and sword shattered.

He caught the candelabras and smacked the surprised guard into retreating. He rushed for another alley, but guards cut him off.

He blocked a swing, looking away to keep the shards out of his face. He danced around surprised impaired swings, grinning.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"It seems that you need a new blacksmith." He ducked under a roof watcher's swing, then planted the end of a candelabra into her stomach. He blocked another roof watcher's attack, catching the blade in the candle ends. He looked at it as he twisted to keep the man from pulling it out. "Perhaps you can give these other guards the name of your blacksmith? It looks like they could use it." He swung the other candelabra at the guard flanking him, sending her to the ground. "Or look into who made these. This is clearly superior work."

He used the prong ends to disarm the man, then kicked him away and turned to block a guard's swing. More shards flew.

"Have you not paid your blacksmith? Or displeased them in some other way? I'm seeing a pattern in who has faulty swords." He pulled the guard to him and turned so they faced the coming polearm.

With a scream, the guard raised his shield and Tibs made the wood hard enough to deflect the blow as he changed their angle. The polearm shattered on impact, metal and wood, while the shield cracked.

"Maybe you've angered the elements?" Tibs offered. "Perhaps you need to reconsider how you chose to live your life? Maybe who you protect from whom?" A candelabra blocked a roof watcher's swing, and he let his captive go to punch her.

An angry scream accompanied the running guard, and the roof watched hurried out of the way. Tibs lazily raised a candelabra and intercepted the blade. It shattered on it.

"Yes. Someone is clearly displeased with you." He punched the man. "I wonder who it can be."

He deflected the roof watcher's attack, then locked the next swing among the prongs, then slamming that down, pulling the man, who refused to let go, along. A kick to the face made them release it.

His weapons had accumulated enough nicks, it would soon be suspicious they weren't breaking. The guards kept their distance, more than one looking at their swords in worry. He'd made his point. Only three roof watchers were left to oppose him, but he sensed more of them, as well as guards, on their way.

"As entertaining as this has been, I'm afraid I need to leave." He raised his voice. "Remember, citizens of this dreary city. It is yours, not theirs. There are more of you than they. And it seems that someone, or some things, are favoring those who oppose your oppressors."

He ran at the roof watchers. He let a candelabra break from deflecting a blade, let the other go to place a hand on the woman's head to push himself over the other's swing, then ran for the building, easily climbing to the roof.

He faced the plaza and bowed. "This is your city!" he called out, turned and ran, vanishing from their sight. With all the area's roof watchers on the ground, no one saw which alley he finally dropped into.

* * * * *

Tibs gave the stories three days to spread before slipping the paper with the new tavern and phrase to the little group's leader.

She was there the next day, and the night after that, it was only her and the contact woman waiting at the back of the shop. He remained in the rafters well past arriving, sensing from anyone approaching.

When he was confident all he sensed were the guards on their normal patrols, he dropped and stepped to the edge of the light.

"Did you lose people?"

"We couldn't get everyone here this quickly." The leader's words had a faint glow to them. An exaggeration? She hadn't tried? She hadn't wanted others here?

"He's impressed with what you did," the contact said while he still tried to understand why it was only the two of them.

Descension among the ranks?

"That was the point." Her reasons didn't matter, so long as it didn't get in the way of helping the city. "I wouldn't depend on it if he's planning an attack. By now, they'll have checked all the weapons that arrived with that caravan and found them defective."

"To be able to do what you did," the leader said, suspicion in her tone. "You have access to closed off places."

She was suspicious of his allegiance.

He shrugged. "You can question my motivations. Try to figure out who I am. Or we can discuss the next step."

"Can you remove all their weapons?" the contact asked.

"Not without them realizing they are under attack. I seeded thoughts that someone is displeased with the guards. I expect you've heard the stories being told. How the guards who have already suffered a drop in pay are seeing this as further pressure. How the city leaders are claiming it is my work, since they have no one else to blame. How whispers of unrest are turning into those of taking actions."

The leader let out a breath and seemed to come to a decision. "How much of the money you've taken from the guards are you willing to part with for our cause?"

"I have taken no money from the guards. But I am willing to give you a large portion of my fortune to help in your endeavor."

"We know it's you," the contact said. "You basically admitted to that last time."

He shrugged. "If it's important to your mastermind that it be their money you use, you'll have to seek someone else's help."

"It isn't," the leader said. "I just don't understand why you aren't taking the credit."

"I don't take credit for someone else's work."

It didn't matter that they believe him or not. To him or them. They exchanged a look, then the contact told him how much they needed. He was impressed. If he hadn't planned to keep taking silvers from the guards, it would be more than he could give.

They were ambitious; he had to give them that.

"I can't hand that over at one time. Getting a promise that size converted will be noticed. As would handing over that amount in bars."

"You have bars of platinum?" the leader asked, dismayed.

He shrugged again, then affected a thoughtful expression. "A common coin pouch carries a hundred silver without drawing attention. If you have places where one can be left behind in the process of trading that won't be noticed, I can arrange to make it happen."

"A hundred gold at a time would speed things up, even electrum would make it faster."

"But money handlers pay attention to anything beyond silver because it is uncommon unless you are a merchant. Which means I can be noticed when I get the higher value coins, and your mastermind can when he returns them to silver."

"We won't need them as silver," the contact said.

If what they needed could be paid in electrum or gold, this wasn't to bribe people within the city. "That is none the less how I'll have them delivered."

The contact looked at the leader, worried. "How many shops can we safely use?"

"Can you arrange ten deliveries per day?" she asked after thinking it over.

"You tell me the shops, and I'll see to it they the deliveries happen until the amount is reached.

* * * * *

Hiring people willing to take part in criminal activities was always easy. People wanted extra coins, even when the system around them wasn't trying to take everything they had. Finding those, among them, who wouldn't just walk away with a pouch filled with coins, knowing there was little Tibs could do, short of hunting them down, if they did, was harder.

But he had essence.

Light might not bring certainty, but it let him remove those outright dishonest. He could add incentive to keep those left from being tempted. Such as increasing how much they were paid for each delivery. There would be days and weeks of deliveries, so much more money to be made in the long run.

For seven days, and another theft, Tibs handed money over to the quiet rebellion. He was looking forward to more theft, as he returned to his attic, only to sense guard crawling over it.

And her muddled essence.