Chapter 6: Chapter 05

A short tunnel led to another room, and all Tibs saw from the entrance were boulders with narrow paths between them. The smallest boulder Tibs saw went up to his chest, most were taller than he was, and in the center of the room, a stone column reached the ceiling.

“Do you think there are traps?” the fighter asked as she peered over the taller boulder.

“There’s barely any floor to see,” Tibs replied, crouching and studying the scratched patch of floor he could see between the boulders at the room’s entrance. There was enough room to squeeze by each boulder, but it would be tight for their fighter, and Tibs wasn’t sure their other fighter would have fit between them if he hadn’t gotten himself killed.

“I hear movement,” the archer whispered.

Tibs listened, and in the silence of the others holding their breaths, he made out a scratching, but couldn’t tell where in the room it came from. The sound seemed to bounce off the boulders.

“Do you know what they are?” he asked in a low voice.

“Do I look like I’ve hunted cave creatures before?” she replied, her voice dropping as she realized she’d raised it.

“You said you hunted on the king’s land,” the fighter said before Tibs could apologize. “The king has mountains, so Tibs's question makes sense.”

Tibs didn’t point out he didn’t know the king had mountains, or even lands. Although it made sense. He’d just ever thought about it before. Royalty was too far beyond him to ever think about.

“What king do you have that has mountains?” the archer whispered harshly. “The kingdom’s all forest.”

“Clearly we don’t come from the same kingdom,” the sorceress said before the fighter replied, “And whatever those are, they might not be any animals we’ve ever seen. Dungeons can make monsters.”

The fighter stared at her. “You have got to be fu—” she closed her mouth and eyed Tibs as she took a breath. Had she avoided swearing because of him? “I know you’re not a fighter, Tibs, but you and me are the only ones who can do close combat.” She indicated his knife before looking at the other two. “We’re going to need you to give us some cover as we move.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to,” the archer said, looking into the room. “All those boulders break any line of sight as soon as you’re a few of them deep. To shoot anything I’ll have to step into the room, and that puts me at risk. Both of us, unless you think you can do your magic around them.”

The sorceress shook her head.

“We need to get through,” the fighter said, then considered something. “Unless we want to turn around now.”

“And leave without having anything to show for it?” the sorceress asked. “Are they going to even let us leave without some proof we tried?”

“We already lost a fighter,” Tibs said. The other team had returned members short and injured. Maybe they needed injuries for it to count? Tibs suspected this was where they’d gotten that.

“Then we need to try to cross the room,” the fighter said. “Tibs, stay by me.” She stepped in, squeezing between the boulders, and skittering sounded through the room.

The sound was more the scratching of stone on stone than anything resembling small claws on stone. Tibs gripped the knife in his hand and looked at the floor for any sign of what it was that was moving around them.

The fighter stopped, and Tibs looked up to see the column and something small jump at him. With a scream, Tibs dropped to his knees, hands over his head. The fighter yelled, then something fell next to Tibs. He opened his eyes and looked as a stone rat cut into two pieces dissolved into the floor, leaving behind a copper piece.

A whole copper piece.

Tibs picked it up gingerly and turned it in his fingers. In his entire life, he’d only heard of whole pieces. There were so few of them on the street those living there had only ever handled quarters, maybe a lucky few had held halves.

“I think that’s more mine than yours,” the fighter said, glancing at him before looking around, sword held at the ready. There was still skittering around them.

“Sorry.” He handed her the coin. “I was surprised.”

“You’re not going to survive by hiding from the creatures in here.” She took the coin without even glancing at it, then took his hand and pulled him to his feet. “They gave you a knife, you need to use it.”

Tibs looked on the floor for it and picked it up. “I don’t know how.”

“Didn’t they teach you?” she asked in disbelief.

“We went over traps and locks.”

She cursed under her breath and blushed as she glanced at him. “The pointed end goes into the creatures, as often as you can manage it.”

A scream made them turn; the sorceress was batting away at something jumping and crawling over her. Tibs ran to help, having an easier time moving between the boulders. Something jumped at him from the top of a boulder and Tibs ducked. By the time Tibs reached the entrance, the sorceress had fallen between boulders, out of sight.

When he stopped, something bit his ankle and he slashed at it without thinking. He cut the stone rat in two. Something jumped on his shoulder and bit. Gritting back a scream, Tibs grabbed the stone rat and smashed it on the floor, crushing it under a foot as he felt claws and teeth bite into his legs and arms. He screamed in fear and pain and anger as he planted the knife into them. They dissolved and left copper pieces behind.

Once the rats stopped attacking him, he checked on the sorceress, who was unmoving, her throat ripped, and a pool of blood forming. He swallowed the bile, reminding himself it wasn’t the first time he’d seen someone die, although it was the first time he’d been this close as they died.

He turned at the sound of more scratching and realized it was the scuffing of cloth against stone as he watched the archer pull the fighter’s body between two of the boulders. She looked pale but determined, as their eyes met.

“Grab any coins you find and pull her away from the entrance,” she said.

Tibs looked on the floor. And where the dead rats had been, now were one copper coin each. He picked up the coins, noting some had different designs on them, and pocketed them. Then he grabbed the sorceress’ arms and pulled. Her legs were between boulders and caught on sharp jutting stones.

A rat appeared on top of a boulder and jumped at him. Tibs screamed and let go of the sorceress as he fell to his knees for protection. Something fell on his head, then plinked on the floor. He opened his eyes, and a copper coin spun on the floor before settling.

He looked at the archer, who had another arrow notched as he felt himself for any new injuries. She’d shot at him. He looked at the coin. She shot the rat in mid-jump and hit it. Hadn’t her bow been on the floor as she pulled the fighter’s body?

“You looked like you needed help,” she answered his slack-jawed look at her. “Grab the coin and get back to pulling her away. I’ll keep an eye out for more of those rats.”

He looked at the sorceress. Her legs were still between boulders. “I could use some help.” He pocketed the coin, then grabbed her arm.

“Sorry, I don’t know how far I can get before her body dissolves. I’d like to be able to keep some of what we made here.”

Tibs nodded. They’d said they had to bring the dead’s equipment back. So it would be the sorceress’ robe, the fighter’s shirt, and her sword. Did they use half coins here? The way the fighter hadn’t even glanced at her coin made Tibs think she’d been used to handling them.

Finally, he had her legs out of the room and he leaned against the wall, panting. He slid down, eying the entrance for more rats, but he didn’t think he’d have the strength to fight them.

The archer pulled the fighter’s body next to the sorceress and sat by Tibs.

“Do you think they’re going to let us leave?” Tibs asked, pulling his knees to himself and wrapping his arms around them. He never thought he’d want to go back to the street after escaping it, but right now that seemed like the safer place. “We didn’t reach the last room.”

“If they ask, I’m telling them we did,” she answered defiantly. “I don’t care how badly they want us to die. I’m not giving them the satisfaction.”

“Why?” He fought the tears. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I just picked a few pockets, took food from houses; it’s not like they ever missed it.”

She placed an arm around his shoulder and pulled him to her. “And I just killed a few rabbits to feed my brothers and sisters. They don’t care. We’re street. As far as they’re concerned, we’re just good as dungeon food.”

Tibs sniffled. “I wanna go home.”

“Do you have a home to go back to?”

Tibs shrugged. Right now he’d take anywhere that wasn’t here.

“Look,” she said after a stretching silence, “I know you’re scared, but we can do this. You showed us how to get through the first room. By the time it’s our turn again, we’ll have learned more and we’ll make it through this room. We’re going to show them that just because we’re street, it doesn’t mean we’re less than them. What do you say?”

Tibs wipes his eyes and forced a smile. Her words reminded him of Mama. She hadn’t wanted to give up either.

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“Good, now you take her robe and amulet. I’ll deal with the fighter’s equipment.”

“What amulet?” Tibs asked as he pulled on the robe.

“Around her neck,” the archer said. “She put it under her robe.”

“I know where they go,” Tibs replied. “Why does she have one? Didn’t they take away everything they had?” the guards had taken the few quarter coins he’d had before throwing him in the cell. They’d laughed, said they’d earned a tankard each with them.

“It’s a magic thing, I guess.” She had the shirt off the fighter. “Or maybe it’s an adventurer thing; back home I heard about an adventurer who could use an element.”

“I thought they were just stories,” Tibs said, and immediately recalled the adventurer who had caught the beggar’s hand and coated it in ice before breaking it off. He shuddered.

“Maybe, but the bard who told the story isn’t known for making them up.” She put the shirt over her shoulder and grabbed the sword. Tibs had to fold the robe so it wouldn’t be too cumbersome on his shoulder. The amulet was a simple disk of brass with a clear crystal in it.

He carefully tested the tiles before they crossed the first room again, and the triggers hadn’t moved. Maybe the dungeon had taken pity on them, or maybe it wasn’t as cunning as the sorceress had said.

Exiting through the crack in the face of the mountain was tougher while carrying the fallen’s equipment. In the end, he had to put what he carried down and have her pass it to him once he was outside.

When they reached the bottom of the hill, the adventurers on each side of the path watched them. “I see not everyone’s back,” the woman said.

“What took that fighter of yours?” the other adventurer said. The one who’d wished their overconfident fighter good luck. “The traps, or the rats?”

“The traps,” Tibs said. “I tried to warn him.”

“His kind never listens,” the adventurer said. “Don’t feel bad about it.”

“We don’t,” the archer said, eyes fixed on him, “but we also lost two others.”

“They were nice,” Tibs missed them, now that he wasn’t busy trying to survive.

“That’s going to happen,” the woman said dismissively. “Don’t get attached. Did you make it to the last room?”

“No,” Tibs said, at the same time as the archer said, “yes.” She glared at him.

“You’re not required to reach it,” the man said.

The archer turned her glare on him. “No one told us that.”

He smirked. “You’ll never be told everything you need to know. Get used to that. It’s called living. If you can’t make your own decision while on a dungeon run, you’re not going to live long. Sometimes being safe can pay off.”

“Sure,” the archer said belligerently, “care to tell me how that pays off?”

The woman smiled. “Well, you’re the first who haven’t forced themselves to make a try for the last room and, not only are you walking out without assistance, you brought back equipment, which means you are going to get to keep some coins.”

“I’d keep that to yourself,” the man said in a whisper. “Others might get jealous and decide those coins should be theirs instead.”

“I thought stealing wasn’t allowed here,” Tibs said, fighting to keep standing.

“When has that ever stopped anyone?” the woman asked, eying him. “When has that ever stopped you? It’s not like if the thief is caught, we ask where he got the coins and return them. We end him and throw him in the dungeon to be eaten. So don’t get any ideas yourself.” She motioned to the tables as a group approached the path. “Now go hand over what you have, and remember, don’t talk about what’s in the dungeon with anyone.”

The five eyed them as they crossed paths and Tibs heard something snide about how they’d let the other members of their team down from the sorcerer who seemed to be in charge.

At the table, the adventurer took their shirts, robe, and equipment, and dropped them on a pile of other damaged equipment. He took the coins Tibs and the archer put on the table, all nine of them, and put that in a metal box, closing and locking it with a key he pocketed.

“Hey,” the archer exclaimed, only to close her mouth under the glare of his utterly black eyes. Tibs sensed more than saw the people walking by. His eyes were on the pocket the key was in. If she could distract the adventurer, Tibs was confident he could get it. Then it would just be a question of getting the box and they could have coins.

The adventurer leaned toward her, hands on the table, and the pocket came temptingly close.

“Do not ever raise your voice at me, Little Miss Arrow, is that clear?” he said in a low but firm voice.

“We’re supposed to get coins,” she said, but sounded subdued.

“Is that so?” the adventurer asked. “What about you, Mister Light Fingers? Do you think you deserve coins? Or do you plan on just taking them?”

Tibs realized those black eyes were on him and swallowed. The man’s expression was more amused than angry, and Tibs realized it had been a ploy to test him. If he’d been only slightly less patient, he’d have lost more than a hand.

“We returned the robe, a shirt, a sword, and the amulet,” he said, moving his hand behind his back. And the adventurer chuckled. “Doesn’t that mean we get two coins each?”

“Does it?”

Tibs turned to point at the two adventurers, but the man before him caught his hand.

“Don’t point, it’s not polite.” He pulled Tibs to face him and where the hand had been on the table were four copper coins.

“How?” Tibs stared at them.

“Think of it as something you have to look forward to if you live that long,” the adventurer said. “Take what’s yours and find a place to hide them. You don’t want the others to know; not until it’s common for you runners to survive and get coins out of it.”

The archer grabbed two and walked away. Tibs took his coins and looked at them. Two whole coins. They felt real enough.

“Are you coming?” she asked.

“What can I get for them?” Tibs asked the adventurer in little more than a whisper.

“Not much right now,” the man answered. “What the vendors sell costs more than a handful of copper, but soon enough there’ll be a tavern, inns, sleeping houses. In those, a copper will get you a decent meal, a tankard of something better to drink than whatever they’re serving you right now.” The man shuddered. “That stuff is vile, isn’t it?”

“It’s food,” Tibs replied. “I don’t care how it tastes.”

The man nodded. “I vaguely remember that time. Sleeping houses will have rooms for you and your team, where you can keep your stuff and not have to worry about anyone taking it from you.” He motioned toward the accumulation of tents that passed for a town and the archer waiting for Tibs. “Head off, little rogue. Keep your hands to yourself, learn what they have to teach you, and maybe one day, if you’re really unlucky, you’ll stand in my place, giving advice to some other rogue, hoping to survive what he’s been thrown into.”

Tibs thought about what the man said. “No. When I leave here. I don’t want to ever have anything to do with dungeons or places like this.”

The adventurer studied Tibs, then leaned forward, pulling the sleeve on his left arm up and revealing a black band tattooed about his wrists. “Then, one last piece of advice, Mister Light Fingers, when you leave here, be very careful not to be caught breaking the rules, because by then, you’ll be considered too valuable to simply kill.” He covered his arm again. “Now get out of here," he said harshly.

Tibs ran to catch up to the archer.

“What did he want?” she asked, but Tibs shook his head. “I’m Ariana, by the way. Seeing how we survived, you should know my name.”

“Tibs,” he answered, trying to understand what the adventurer, what the rogue had meant. If someone was too valuable to kill, what exactly did they do with them?

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