Stepping Up, Draft 1, CH 49 (Patreon)

“That might be the least dignified arrival I have witnessed,” a woman said.

Tibs untangled himself and groaned, opening an eye. How wasn’t he dead? That fall had been—

The form looking down on him straightened. “Good, you are all here. You had me concerned for an instant.”

Tibs sat up. Of course, his audience. He looked around and was surprised at the banality of the space. A stone room, with a wooden table and two chairs.

Shouldn’t Purity be more….

“Yes?” she asked.

Tibs stood. “I’m sorry, I was just expecting…”

“More what?” she asked. She didn’t sound offended or amused, or anything. If Tibs had to name it, he would say she seemed bored.

She shrugged. As with the voice, there was femininity to the form, but also a plainness that matched the room. There had been a sense of vastness to the other element. He had been in their presence, but they hadn’t been limited to…. Anything.

“Your mind seems to have trouble staying still,” she said as she motioned for the chair opposite hers. “Sit.” Tibs did as instructed. “Now, please find that thought again and complete it. More what?”

“I’m not sure.” He tried to sound confident, but she could see his thoughts, so she knew the truth. “The plainness, I guess that makes sense now that I think about it. Everything in the city is plain.”

“And you believe they are such because I am such.”

Tibs nodded. “It’s just that the other elements were more… had stronger personality, I guess.”

“And you believe that makes them more themselves?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I don’t know a lot.”

“Few of your kind do, as much as they delude themselves otherwise.”

“There was also more of them, if that makes sense.” He shook his head. “That’s not right. More to them. Like they concentrated only a small part to talk with me.” He motioned to the room. “It feels like this is all there is to you.” He hesitated. “Shouldn’t there be more?”

She shrugged. “We are what we are, and what we are is not a responsibility of yours, despite what it may seem like. What to have undertaken. You need not concern yourself with my state.”

Tibs nodded. “You know who I am.”

She nodded. “You are a child of humans. One who has set himself on a journey that will most likely see you dead before it can end. You should not have done this. Your kind is too fragile.” She paused. “And yet. You do not fear that outcome. Interesting.”

“I was going to die before I came to the dungeon. No one lives long on my street unless they’re willing to kill with thinking about it. I can’t do that. Then the dungeon was going to eat me. I know that’s not true, but I didn’t know that then and…”

“You should say it.”

He nodded. “Making the men who hurt Mama pay is important. I have put a lot of thoughts into what I will do to them, and this can help me.” He motioned to her. Unlike the other element, the shadow was right there, within her torso. There was nothing hiding it. The moment he thought to look for it, there it was.

“Not if you are dead.”

He shrugged. “Then at least I’ll die trying. And you are the last element I need.”

She studied him. “I did not think you would come. The places where my connection to your world exists have grown few, and they are guarded with strength, but not all with cunning. I am impressed with how hard you worked to reach me.”

“But not pleased?” Somehow, that disappointed him.

“I am not someone who is pleased. Being pleased means you are done. I do not believe in such. Work always continues. It is better to appreciate what is being done than be happy with what has been done.”

Tibs nodded. “What do I need to do to get the shadow?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You simply have to take it, as with each of us. But I leave obfuscation to the others. Light and I have this in common. We prefer being straightforward.”

Tibs stood and walked around the table. She turned in her chair to continue facing him, expression impassive. He reached for her and stopped.

“Will this hurt you?” He’d been so preoccupied with figuring out how to get the shadow from the others, he hadn’t considered what it did to them. They hadn’t acted like it hurt afterward, but how would he know how an element expressed pain?

“No, this is not I that it will hurt.”

He nodded. Of course, she might be straightforward, but it wouldn’t be as simple as closing his hand over it. Even with Fire and Corruption, the ease of obtaining it had come with hints of a cost, or, with Fire, the burning immediacy of it.

He touched her and immediately pulled his hand away. The pain had been intense. Not like the fire. Heat, but not a burning of his flesh. That memory was still clear, even after months.

He touched her again, and the pain returned. A deep burning that reminded him of when he’d been doused with corruption, but only in how profound it was. This burning reached into his essence. He pushed and ground his teeth. When he opened his eyes, he saw that he only had his fingers in her to the first knuckle.

There was nothing left of them inside her.

He pulled his hand away and stared at his whole fingers.

Was this an illusion? A trick to make him think he couldn’t do this. He search her face for hints of duplicity, but there was only mild curiosity.

She was purity. Hard work was what she appreciated. This would be something he needed to work at.

He touched her again, and this time he forced his eyes to stay open as he pushed. He watched as his finger broke her ‘skin’ and imagined the pain was more intense as he saw them dissolve.

It wasn’t like with the man melting in the pool of corruption. His fingers seemed to explode like ambers from a kicked burning log, and left nothing behind. He pulled his hand out, his blood running cold.

She was purity… wouldn’t that mean that reaching into her only left what was pure? He saw nothing left there.

“Am I not…” he searched for the words. “Pure enough? Worthy?”

“Are you not?”

If there was nothing left of what he pushed inside her. How would he grasp the shadow?

She was purity.

He would grasp it through hard work.

He slammed his hand into her chest before he could think better of it and screamed as pain coursed up his arm. It was in to his wrist, then halfway to his forearm. He fumbled about, trying to grasp the shadow, but he couldn’t feel, then he realized he’d closed his eyes.

Opening them offered little help. He saw the shadow, but there was nothing left of his hand to close around it. Despair clawed at him, and he pushed it away. Maybe more of his arms would cause something to be left that he could use.

He kept his eyes fixed on where his arm went into her despite the increasing pain as he pushed in to his elbow. Would he have to go in completely? Would he be able to come back out?

He noticed the essence accumulating where his arm met her body. It was white, so pure he wondered why that didn’t go in. She was purity. If that was pure, it should—

It wasn’t pure. White wasn’t the color of purity, it was the color of his element. He searched the line for indication of the other colors. Blue, red, brown, purple, black, storming blue-gray even the brightness of Light was missing. Only the white of his essence was pushed back.

He stopped pushing. His arm was in her a little past his elbow. In a living body, it would be out the other side—that was an image he would have preferred not having—so there was enough there. Now, why wasn’t any part of himself left in her? If the other elements weren’t stopped, they should be there, giving his arm form, solidity. Shouldn’t they?

Except they weren’t his elements. His element was white. Life. It was him, the pure him.

Okay, then why wasn’t it inside her?

Because she was going to make him work for it.

Pushing physically didn’t do it, so he relaxed his body. The pain didn’t diminish, but now that he was no longer tensing against it, he could push it to the side, like he had his despair. His essence was his to control. He could move it within him and into others.

He tried to push all of it through, but the resistance was intense. He closed his eyes and felt instead of looked. Everywhere he pushed, Purity pushed back. She was matching him. He tried to focus everything on one point, hoping to overwhelm her, but that was impossible. She was an element. He was only human. She would always have more to give than he did.

He was also a rogue.

She’d said cunning. Had that been a clue, or had she just pointed out what had happened? He’d used cunning to get in, and the people guarding her dungeon hadn’t been ready for that.

He kept the assault, but took one strand of his essence and moved it away, then he pushed with less strength. It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. She was an element. Moving the strand to the other side of his ‘arm’ pushing ‘less’ wouldn’t mean she wouldn’t notice it. Her body wasn’t what he was fighting against, she was the entire space he was in.

He could have cursed.

He stopped pushing against her ‘skin’ and let his essence explode around him.

He felt her smile as he dispersed; as he spread through her. Maybe the vastness of the other element was the illusion. Maybe she was ‘less’, because soon he felt the limits. He was everywhere and with only a shift in focus, he felt the shadow of the element. He ‘grasped’ it and felt it meld into him. Purity made a space between light and darkness. The reserve of his element grew and…

Nothing.

He was seated opposite her, wondering why nothing happened. He had all eight elements. Getting the first four had unlocked his element. Shouldn’t getting the others Water had told him to get do… something?

“Sometimes,” she said. “Working hard doesn’t always mean using brute force.”

He nodded and set aside why this hadn’t accomplished anything. “I need to remember I’m a rogue.”

She shook her head. “Be careful not to let this—” she tapped her forehead “—get in your way.”

“What happens now?”

“Now, you go on your way. You have a long journey ahead of you, should you survive the next few steps.”

He opened his mouth—

* * * * *

And croaked as his throat clamped shut painfully.

“He’s back,” Craren said, disappointed.

“Do you think they’ll mind if I just crush him?”

Tibs almost wished she did. He’d forgotten how much pain his body was in while dealing with the pain of getting the last of the elements. He opened an eye and looked up at the opening he’s fallen from.

He snorted. How had he been terrified of that fall? It was barely twice his height. He’d thrown himself out of windows much higher than that while trying to have his audience with Air.

He struggled to his feet. Used the uneven wall to climb until he had a hand on the edge of the opening, then caught his breath.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Craren demanded.

His first attempt at an answer was only a hiss of air. He swallowed the water he formed in his mouth and momentarily felt calmer.

“Leaving.” It hadn’t sounded like more than a croak, but his throat hurt less. He considered making more water, but he didn’t have much in his reserve, and in his state, he couldn’t get more there.

He pulled himself to the opening, then crawled through and fell on the other side. More bruising for his overly abused body.

“Are you going to let him leave?” Craren asked. “I thought you wanted to crush him.”

“You know it was wishful thinking. He passed. He’s entitled to leave. He worked hard. Purity took him in and returned him. Who I am to pass judgment now?”

“The dungeon he’s in. It isn’t like anyone will know.”

“You can’t be sure of that, Craren. I doubt Rangar thought anyone would mind what he did; until they came and killed him.”

Tibs wanted to ask who the ‘they’ were, since they seemed to know more about them than Ganny did, but his throat hurt again.

“He was out of control,” Craren finally said as Tibs forced himself to his feet. “And he wouldn’t listen to you. If they hadn’t stopped him, he would have unleashed creatures all over the world.”

“But he hadn’t yet. So how did they find out? We didn’t tell them. I know his assistant didn’t. Do you think he was talking with anyone else?”

“No. He only talked with you because of the bond you shared. He wouldn’t have trusted anyone else.”

Tibs kept walking as their voices faded into the distance. He didn’t encounter any rooms, any obstacles, and when he finally saw daylight, he thought it was too soon. He had walked for days and days, probably weeks, so he couldn’t be out already… not that he remembered how long he’d walked since his audience.

As the light blinded him, arms closed around him. He was too exhausted to react.

“I’ve got you,” a man said softly as Tibs imagine landing in a cell. So long as the cot was straight and he got food, he didn’t care. “Show me your eyes,” the man said as he maneuvered Tibs. Not understanding why the man was interested in his eyes, Tibs looked at him as he was seated. The expression turned sad.

“You might be the longest one to stay before accepting you aren’t ready for your audience, but that you turned back shows great wisdom. Don’t worry, you will continue to work hard, and next time, I’m sure Purity will grant it to you.”

Something was placed in Tibs’s hands.

“Slowly drink this. It’ll help you recuperate. It’ll be sometime before we have an escort for you. We weren’t expecting anyone to exist at this point.”

The small cup contained a thick liquid devoid of scent or taste. After the first sip didn’t kill him, he had another one, then another. By the time it was empty, he felt better. He was still hungry and thirsty, but it was more like he’s gone a few days without either, instead of however long he was inside. He was still tired, but again, it was more like a few days, and he could function on that little sleep.

Function enough to realize what had caused the man’s reaction. His eyes were still brown, so they’d think he hadn’t succeeded. Tibs had been ready to slip away while being escorted to wherever they took the newly graduated. He looked around at the empty benches, the man at a desk by the dungeon’s entrance. He was writing. There were no guards at the gate. Tibs stood and while his legs shook, they supported him. Remaining at the man’s back, he made his way to the exit, then out.

No guards there either to stop him.

He walked away from the dungeon, and the final gate was guarded, but they looked out, alert for anyone trying to enter without authorization. They glanced at Tibs, took his in dirty clothing, and went back to watching the road. He wasn’t the first to leave after a run without having washed.

By the time he made it to the market square, that was his first marker. He was getting tired again. Either what he had been given was wearing off, or he wasn’t expected to walk after his ordeal. He headed toward the sunset, crossed three named roads, then turned left. Six more named roads, and it was a right, the fourth house, he hoped had remembered right and he pounded on the door.

It opened and Zackaria looked at him in surprise.

Tibs sighed in relief and opened his mouth to ask where Carina was, but darkness engulfed him.

* * * * *

He woke in a bed that wasn’t his, much too fancy for anything Tibs would sleep in. And Carina, smiling at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I fell off a mountain.”

She frowned, and he smiled.

“I’m okay. Sore, thirsty, and hungry, but I’m okay.”

Her eyes flicked to the door, and Tibs turned his head. Peolo stood there, looking grave.

“You came back,” he said as if accusing him. “You understand that I won’t be able to get you in a second time.”

Right, his eyes.

“I doubt we’d have time, even if you could,” Carina said. “We’re probably going to be recalled soon.” She raised her hand and her robe slipped down, revealing the bracelet. The gem was still yellow.

Peolo nodded. “I know you thought Purity was for you, Tibs. But sometimes, we need to accept that what we think isn’t what is.”

Tibs nodded and the cleric left. When he couldn’t hear his steps, he spoke in a low voice. “Did he want me to die there? They don’t have any problems with the others turning around and leaving.”

“You aren’t from here. From them, Peolo would see it as having tried hard, and be ready to work harder for their next attempt.”

“He thinks I just gave up.”

She nodded, looked at the opened door and him again. “Did it work?” Tibs nodded. “And?”

He shrugged. “Nothing like last time. No new element, no changes I can feel.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged again. “Water said I needed to do it, so there will be something. Maybe it just takes time.” He looked at the sun coming in through the window, late afternoon. He had no idea what time of the day he’d left the dungeon. “How long was I inside?”

“Twenty-four days.”

He stared at her. Nearly three weeks. He had trouble believing it. It didn’t feel like he’d been in there that long, or maybe it felt like longer. He couldn’t tell.

“Can I have something to eat? And drink? I haven’t had anything since eating at your family.” She left and returned with a tray with a slice of bread, cheese, and a tankard of water. “I was hoping for ale and stew. A lot of them.”

“You need to take it slowly. Peolo healed the damage, but he can’t undo weeks without eating.”

“What did you do while I was inside?” He placed the slice on the bread and bit into it. Carina’s answer was lost to the moan the taste of the simple food caused.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever reacted that way to bread and cheese.”

“Anyone who’s gone in that dungeon has. Of course, they might not have been tortured as hard as I was.” He should his head. “Tell me about what you did.”

“I spent time with my family.” She beamed. “My mother’s still disappointed I chose sorcery and that my element isn’t purity, but her real fear was that I’d become lazy. That I’m Rho in only a few months made her so proud.”

“Do they use the levels here?”

Carina shook her head. “But they know them. The clerics continue their training with the guild after all.”

“I’m glad it isn’t bad.”

“I’m glad Peolo forced me to go. I wouldn’t have otherwise. It was easier believing things couldn’t be fixed than trying and failing.”

“It’s always better to try to fix things when we can. We’re runners, we might not have another chance. Do you want to stay?”

“I can’t. When the dungeon reopened, I have to go.”

“I mean until then. I’m going to go back tomorrow.”

“Don’t you want to enjoy more time here, resting?”

He leaned close and lowered his voice. “I’d rather be at the inn, where I can talk one of Kroseph’s brothers into giving me more food.”

“I’m going to have to threaten them properly, then. I don’t want you getting sick eating too much.”

“So you’re not staying?”

“I’ll use the day to say my goodbyes. My family will understand.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything special,” Zackaria said, entering the room with a tray. “I thought Tibs would use something to eat.”

“He—” Carina began.

“I can eat,” Tibs cut her off, moving the tray that was on his lap away.

* * * * *

Tibs’s stomach hurt.

“I warned you,” Carina said.

“It’ll pass.” Tibs winces and slowed his walk.

“If you’re going to be sick, let’s to in a tavern.”

He shook his head. “It’s just the motion pushing the food around.”

“Zack’s too soft.”

“They’re a good cook,” Tibs said with a grin.

“It doesn’t mean you had to eat all of it.”

“I was being respectful of the work they put into it.”

“And how does that respect feel now?”

Tibs held his stomach. “I’m happy we’re leaving. I couldn’t resist more of their food, and that might kill me.”

“It might be the first time I’ve heard someone being afraid of dying because of good cooking.”

“I’m not afraid,” Tibs protested, “just acknowledging the danger.” He started walking again, keeping his distance from anyone selling food.

The wait to get onto the platform let his stomach settle more, but he still readied himself for the shift to Kragle Rock’s platform as the attendant made the gestures.

The transition to Kragle Rock didn’t cause him any pain, which surprised Tibs, considering his stomach.

It was the arrow that embedded itself in his shoulder and sent him to the ground that wrangled a scream from him.