Stepping Wild (Dungeon Runner 04)

Tibs woke with a start, saw the blood covering him ,the massacre surrounding him; then the memories assaulted him.

He threw up.

He saw a lot of raw meet in it, and he threw up again. Then he forced himself up, used Purity to stop his legs shaking, and ran.

Ran from what he woke among, and the wildness he remembered. The things he'd done.

At least, it had only been to animals.

Not that it brought him much comfort.

Dropping torrents of water on him cleaned his body, but did little to make him feel clean.

It hadn't been him. It had been Fever.

Except he'd learned to remain himself while channeling Fever. And this hadn't been like the previous times. There had been a lack of focus in what he'd felt where before he'd intently wanted 'something' even when that sometime was only to run, until something else pulled at him.

Here, he'd wanted…everything.

It was like how Fire had caused him to be, before he learned to remain himself.

If he controlled himself while channeling either, why had channeling both cause such an extreme reaction?

He reached the clearing his camp was in before he had an answer.

What he'd rebuild after the explosion was mostly intact, the ripped and burned clothing the only sign something had happened to him before he ran off to…. He forced the memory down. He didn't want to think about that.

How had his bracers survive? He'd felt confined by the clothing, had needed that off him so he'd used fire on everything that held him back. He didn't remember his bracers registering as such, even when his boots had.

Had he worn them so long he didn't feel them? So long they were a part of him? Or was it that they were immune to what he'd done? The set Sto made him had been resilient, and the one Firmen made to replace them was fresh weaving, and he might have added to what had been there. The work had always been too intricate for Tibs to sense the details.

Whatever the reason, he was glad.

He packed up and moved deeper into the forest. He couldn't risk anyone coming within his sense until he had control, and that meant understanding how it had happened.

He shuddered at the thought he needed to go through what he'd experienced again.

*

He rolled to his side on waking and threw up before his eyes were opened.

He focused on before he'd lost control, instead of what he'd done this time.

He'd been fine while channeling Fever. He'd Etched, moved essence, and there had been no pull to give into the desires of his body. He'd attempted to be slow in how he channeled Fire, hoping to ease the transition, but it had roared in. Had consumed the space within his reserve, and then…

He focus on before he ran.

Fire exploded within his reserve.

It hadn't mixed with Fever, which had been Tibs's first thought to explain his loss of control. If they had become a new element, he couldn't have known how to deal with that, but just as with Earth and Water, they coexisted in his reserve. Not separate, as they were in his minuscule reserves. They moved against each other, but remained distinct.

But he hadn't remained himself.

What he'd done was more than what happen while he practiced gaining control of Fever. That element was of the body, of the need of using it, of feeding it. Not only his stomach, all its needs. Even those Tibs didn't feel the rest of the time.

This time, and the previous, Tibs had … gone wild.

He had been no better than an animal. No thoughts, only giving into everything his body wanted.

He shuddered and steered his mind away from those memories.

The only way he was able to think of it was the simplest. He'd acted as if Fire had taken Fever and pushed it beyond what it was, the way it had done with his emotions before he gained control.

Then why hadn't Fire done the same when he channeled it and Water? Or Earth?

Something he'd learned in reading so many texts was about setting and testing theories. If the test of a theory under similar circumstances caused completely different results, the theory was wrong.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

What was his theory here?

Tibs forced himself to look around; at the dead animals.

None of the fights had been fair.

He'd been consumed by Fever. He could have thought them dead. But instead, he'd fallen on them and sunk his teeth into their flesh. Ripped that and the fur out. Ate them before they were done dying.

He fought the urge to throw up. This showed why he needed control

He couldn't trust himself to channel only one element, now that he knew he could. He'd be put in situations, as with Alistair, where he wouldn't be able to come up with another way to win.

Then he'd have to deal with the fallout.

The dead animals were partially eaten. As if a few deadly bites had satisfied that hunger, but there had been hunger for another of the animals, hunger to eat them or—he definitely didn't want to think about that.

He gathered two of the largest ones; wolves, and considered his theory on the walk to the camp. He'd need leather for clothing and dry meat for the travels.

His theory was that Fire pushed the other element beyond his control.

*

He'd known his theory was wrong, but now he knew how it was wrong.

Fire hadn't been the one responsible for what had happened. Technically, neither was Fever. It was their similarity.

He'd already known Fire with Water, as well as with Earth, didn't cause a change, so he'd studied what happened when he channeled it and one of the two others. It had meant letting himself feel the changes, something he'd learned to stop a long time ago, and that had been harder than he expected. But once he managed it, he noticed it.

Water and Fire were the easiest to notice.

Water caused him to be calm, to soothe, to help. He'd been so relaxed, he'd almost decided against continuing; to simply rest there. But he remembered himself enough to continue with the experiment. He channeled Fire, which was about extremes, letting himself go, feeling beyond all measures. Doing, not resting. Unleashing, not soothing.

And the pull had been there. Not the ignition of Water as his theory called for, Fire making him feel so much of it he lost control. The pull had been toward Fire, and Fire toward Water. Because of their differences, it was easy to remain himself.

His test of Fire and Earth cause a similar result. Earth was about slowing down. There was no point in ever hurrying. While Fire wanted to act now. It had no patience. When they pulled at each other, Fire's demand for immediate actions was tempered by Earth's patience. And he was able to remain himself.

Confident in his new understanding, he channeled Fire and Fever.

He looked at the result and forcefully didn't think about the other things he'd done with them.

Knowing what would happen hadn't let him keep control because instead of diminishing each other, the pull of the two elements had reinforced each other.

But now, he knew what to train for.

And then, he'd have to test each combination of elements.

But that came after he mastered this one.

*

He wanted, needed, so much it hurt him.

Needed to run, eat, mate, defecate, everything! Being still was so painful, he couldn't understand why he subjected himself to it.

Other than he had made the decision to torture himself like this.

He hated himself.

He screamed.

*

He cursed, but didn't throw up.

How many failed attempts, now? How many days, weeks, had he been at this? He had no sense of how much time passed once he lost control.

If he trusted himself not to use these two elements in a fight, he'd swear the combination off and stick with Fire and Water, or Earth. But not Air. Both those elements were about giving into aspects of himself, and they had fed on each other. He'd laughed and run, set fires and only the pain of being burned had brought him back and he kept it from spreading.

He gathered the bear's body and returned to his camp.

*

NO!

He shoved himself off the animal, and it ran off.

He almost chased it; the need to continue. A need so strong it hurt.

No.

He didn't want this.

Need.

He didn't want this

Need!

He didn't want this

He wasn't Fever

He wasn't Fire

He was Tibs.

And he didn't want to do that with the animal. To himself

Need!

*

He sighed.

At least he'd remembered himself. He hadn't maintained control, but he'd remembered who he was.

He had to consider this an improvement

*

Stop!

Nee—

I said, stop.

The animal ran off and, this time, he didn't even entertain the idea of chasing it. He was Tibs Light-Fingers. He was a person. He had limits. He had to deal with the consequences of his actions.

And he didn't want to do this. None of it.

Nee—

He let the elements go.

No dead animals, so he'd returned to himself sooner. He'd also been himself enough to remember he didn't have to channel the elements.

Definite improvement.

*

I need.

I want.

I don't have to give into what I need, or want.

He trembled from the needs, the desires, but he stayed still.

Thinking was difficult, but acknowledging what made the elements seemed to soothe them; helped him remember he was separate from them. They were part of him and the world, but they had to be in equilibrium.

Everything alive had wants and needs.

They were a part of how the elements that made up everything manifested in them. But they, like him, weren't the elements.

He was Tibs Light-Fingers. And he was the one in charge.

He opened his eyes.

He was in his camp.

He wanted to run, to chase, to eat, do other things, but, with a few exceptions, they were things he wanted at one time or another. He hadn't given into those desires those times; he didn't have to now.

He dressed in the set of clothing he'd made of the pelts he collected, and set about gathering wood, remaining aware of who he was the entire time. Fever and Fire pulled, but he was used to it. He needed to eat. His temper exploded at times. They intensified them, because it was what they were, but he didn't have to give into them. He'd satisfy the urges that were his when it was appropriate.

*

He moved the raw essence around him. Fire through Fever. Over and under. He felt their pull, but remembering who he was became easier each time he did this. They were part of him, but not him.

He sensed the animal trotting through the trees. When it stopped, he formed the fireblast etching with Fire, and fed it Fever.

The heat of the blast was…moist was the closest word he could think of.

The tree barely had marks from the blast, but it consumed the animal entirely. Its life essence hadn't leaked out, causing it to die. It had dissipated once its body had been turned into a steaming mound of flesh-like residue; pale and soggy. If he hadn't sensed it as it happened. He wouldn't have known this was the remains of an animal. Or of anything.

He stepped away. He formed the fireblast etching and, without releasing Fever, fed it Fire essence, directing it at the remains.

Nothing about Tibs changes. No shift in the essences within his reserve. Channeling both didn't mean he was forced to use both. It simply increased the range of what he could do.

He smiled.

If he could remain himself for a few more days, he'd consider himself good to return to his journey