Breaking Step, Draft 1, CH 35 (Patreon)

“What happened?” the voice was Don’s. “Where did that wall come from?”

“I must have stepped on a trigger.” Jackal’s. The fighter was carrying Tibs. “You know me, the klutz.” Jackal should stop talking, Tibs thought, but he couldn’t work up the energy to say it. Jackal always tried too hard when he lied. Unless he was serious about it. Then, the fighter was terrifyingly good at lying. It should be funny, but Tibs couldn’t work up the energy to find it so either. He couldn’t find the energy to feel all that much.

“How did you get it to bring it down?” Don again.

“I got lucky.” Jackal.

No such thing. Tibs should find it amusing how often people relegated their planning to something that didn’t exist. He should feel a lot of things right now, but he couldn’t seem to manage it.

This wasn’t the same as when he was iced. He wasn’t channeling any element, so it was a good thing his eyes were closed. His emotions were there. They were raw, but he was drained. Drained of energy and of essence. He had been too lost in his rage to realize how much essence he’d used in trying to kill Jackal.

He’d tried to kill Jackal.

If he had energy for it, he’d throw himself into the abyss for that.

He wanted to cry. To bawl his eyes out.

It was funny. He’d spent months iced over because he didn’t want to feel anything. And now that he could, he was too drained to manage it.

“How are none of you worried about this?” Don again, sounding annoyed.

“It’s the dungeon.” Mez. “It’s not like this is the first time it changed things.”

“Sometimes, it is best to simply appreciate that events work out in our favor.” Khumdar.

“But if the dungeon’s changed this, we have to—”

“Don, drop it.” Jackal, out of patience.

Don’s grumbling was indistinct, but a sign the dropping was temporary.

They walked out of the dungeon.

“He’s fine,” Jackal snapped, Jerking away.

“Then why are you carrying him?” a woman, sounding older, stern.

“He is suffering from essence exhaustion.” Khumdar.

The sun was warm on him, comforting.

He didn’t want warmth or comfort.

Tibs didn’t deserve it.

* * * * *

The door opened and closed. Tibs turned on the bed, putting his back to whoever entered.

It wasn’t his bed.

He didn’t want a private room in the inn. He shouldn’t be comfortable.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, as the smell of the broth reached him. He curled in on himself tighter to keep his stomach quiet. Going hungry was the least he could endure as punishment for what he’d tried to do.

The image of Jackal pierced by stone spears wouldn’t leave him, and it hurt to know he’d done it. He’d done it intending to kill his friend, the last member of his family. It hurt to realize that he didn’t think of Mez and Khumdar as his family. He’d always thought his team was his family. That simply being part of it was enough to make those in it so.

He definitely didn’t think of Don as family, so there was that.

Still, Khumdar and Mez had been with him for long enough. They should be family.

It hurt to realize that somehow they weren’t.

He wanted the pain to go away.

He wanted to reach for water, to ice himself, mute the pain, make it easy on himself.

But ice was how he’d reached the point where killing Jackal was acceptable.

It hurt to realize he couldn’t trust the elements, even now that he had control over them.

He deserved to hurt.

The intruder hadn’t left. In fact, they’d pulled a chair and sat.

Go away.

Why couldn’t they let him wallow in his misery? Tibs had nearly killed his man. He should hate him for that. Not sit there, with a bowl of broth on the table. 

Of course it was Kroseph. Who else would it be? The person had no elements and anyone else would ask him questions. How was he doing? Wouldn’t he eat something? Shouldn’t he get out of bed and join the others?

“Go away,” he mumbled into the pillow.

They didn’t reply.

They also didn’t leave.

Why weren’t they leaving? Tibs ground his teeth. Why weren’t they leaving him alone? He didn’t deserve company. Didn’t they see that?

He turned and glared at Kroseph. “Get the fuck out.”

The server smiled and shook his head.

Tibs snarled and sat. “Do you have any fucking idea what I can do to you.”

“Go ahead.”

Tibs narrowed his eyes. He extended his sense. Jackal was probably by the door, ready to come to his man’s rescue should—no, the fighter was downstairs, at their table, with Don, Mez and Khumdar. Tibs had expected the cleric, at least, to be at the ready to weaken Tibs if he tried anything.

As drained as he was, there would be little Tibs could do to resist him.

Only none of them were there.

Tibs coated his hand with fire. “I’m serious.” He was all he could do. His bracer wasn’t there. Jackal and Kroseph had undressed him on arriving and taken them away. Tibs hadn’t had the energy to protest.

“Then do it,” Kroseph said.

“I’m not iced, Kroseph,” he snarled. “Do you have any fucking idea how angry I am right now?”

The server shook his head.

“Then—”

“Do it.” Kroseph shrugged.

Tibs’s hold on the fire faltered. His anger faltered. “How aren’t you scared of me? I nearly killed Jackal. I could kill you with barely a thought.”

“Because I know you, Tibs.”

Tibs snorted and fell back. Then he turned his back on Kroseph again. “Why don’t you hate me?” he asked when the silence got overbearing.

“Because I know you, Tibs.”

“No, you don’t.” Tibs wasn’t sure he knew himself anymore. If he’d contemplated killing Jackal, his best friend, the last family he had. The closest thing to a brother he’d ever known. What else might he do?

“You didn’t kill him.”

Tibs was seated. “I tried too! Isn’t that enough?”

“That wasn’t you.”

“It was. I was there. I wanted him dead. I was so pissed at him for getting in my way, I was going to do anything I could to remove him.” His anger ebbed. “I thought I had.” He pulled his knees to his chest. “I thought I’d killed him.” He rested his head on his knees and cried. It hurt so much.

“It wasn’t you that tried to kill him, Tibs. It was the elements.”

“That’s not how it is,” Tibs mumbles. “The elements don’t influence us like that.”

Kroseph snorted, and Tibs looked at him. The server hid a smile.

“What’s funny?”

“Just remembering watching you out of control as you channel this element or that one. It’s funny that you’re now saying they don’t influence you.”

“I got that under control.”

“The way you filled yourself with water, kept it iced for so long, that influenced you. Don says it’s a documented effect of suffusing yourself with your element.”

Tibs shrugged. Who cared what Don said. Tibs had been the one doing it. He’d been the one who had decided and planned how to kill Jackal. That he’d failed had more to do with underestimating the fighter than anything else.

He’d almost succeeded.

He tried to swallow the pain down.

Kroseph patted his shoulder. “You rest. You should have some broth before it gets cold.” He stood and left.

Tibs curled up and wished for the abyss to swallow him.

* * * * *

“Why?” Tibs asked, his face buried in the pillow. Why was he back again? How many days now had Tibs been ignoring the server, his hunger. Wallowing in his pain, his punishment.

“Because I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

“It’s what I deserve.”

“No one deserves to be alone.”

“Then why isn’t Jackal here?” he demanded. Why should the fighter be here? Tibs had tried to kill him.

“Because he’s scared.”

That made sense. Jackal had no way of knowing if Tibs would try to kill him again.

“He doesn’t know how to comfort you, and he’s terrified of screwing that up.”

“And you aren’t?” Tibs hadn’t meant to throw the derision in there.

Had he?

Kroseph smiled. “Unlike my man, I have experience dealing with grief and pain in ways other than punching those responsible for causing either.”

“Well, this isn’t working.” Tibs turned his back to the server and hoped he believed him.

And asked the abyss he didn’t.

* * * * *

Tibs tried not to sense Kroseph approaching, but his stomach made that impossible. With the server came the smell of food, the offer of food, and Tibs was hungry. He was famished.

But he wouldn’t eat.

He didn’t deserve an end to his punishment.

The door opened and closed. The smell of broth, something with fish, reached him. He salivated. He tried to make himself not drink, but water was his element. Anytime he felt parched, cool wetness formed in his mouth and he swallowed before realizing what he’d done. Food was the only thing he could force himself to control.

The bowl was placed on the bedside table. The chair pulled closer and Kroseph sat.

And said nothing.

The silence was worse. Tibs wanted accusations, demands of explanations. He’d even take the accusatory glare. But all he got from the server was patience and understanding.

He ground his teeth.

It was like Kroseph was purposely aggravating him by doing the opposite of what anyone in his position should do. Tibs had tried to kill his man!

He was glaring at the server. “What do you want? Just fucking tell me what I have to do for you to fucking go away.”

Kroseph’s smile had none of the condescension it should. “I’m not going away. But I’d like it if you talked to me.”

“I already told you I tried to kill him. What else do you want me to tell you?”

“How do you feel?”

Tibs stared at the server. What kind of stupid question was that?

“I feel like burning you and this entire place down,” he snarled. “How’s that, for how I feel?”

Kroseph reached down, and came up holding Tibs’s bracers, then offered them.

Had those been there the entire time? Tibs should… no, the enchantments on them meant he only sensed them if he touched them. He was so used to wearing them he’d forgotten. Did it mean his armor was there, too?

“Are you seriously offering them to me? There’s enough essence in them to burn the neighborhood.”

“I’m not worried.”

“How?” Tibs asked. Tired of Kroseph’s nonchalance. Tibs had nearly killed Jackal. That showed how strong he was. He’d destroyed everything around the transportation platform. How was he not scared of him?

“I know you, Tibs.”

Tibs rolled his eyes. “If you did, you wouldn’t come back like you keep doing? You’d have kicked me out of the inn, threatened me if I ever showed up again.”

“Threaten you with what?”

Tibs glared at the server for sounding amused. He sighed when the expression didn’t change. “Fine. What do you know about me that makes you think you’re safe if I take those?” he asked with derision.

“You care.”

“That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. And I mean beyond Jackal level stupid.”

“Ouch.” Kroseph smirked. “My man’s going to be hurt that you think I’m better at him at that.”

“This isn’t funny!”

The smile told Tibs what the server thought of that statement.

Tibs let himself fall back on the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. “It isn’t,” he grumbled.

“Tibs, everything you’ve done since I’ve met you has been out of a desire to help those around you.”

Tibs snorted.

“You care.”

“I burned down an entire neighborhood.”

“You mean Market Place? Which you did, trying to prevent Jackal’s father from escaping, while channeling an element you didn’t have any control over at the time? By the time you did that, it wasn’t you anymore, Tibs. It was the element. And don’t tell me that’s not how it works. You know quite well that in your case, until you’ve figured out how to remain yourself while channeling an element, it does.”

“Trying to kill Jackal happened after I mastered water.”

“But while iced for so long you weren’t yourself anymore. You Tibs, can cause great damage. But you’ll do so, because you’re looking to save someone, protect them, keep them safe.” He offered the bracers. “So take them. I’m not worried.”

“I am,” Tibs whispered. His voice trembled as he continued. “You don’t understand how angry I am. I want to burn the guild down for how they let Sebastian run loose in the town. How they let him kill Carina.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself once I have essence again. I don’t know I’ll be able to care who else gets hurt in the process.”

“Tibs, if that was something you had to be afraid of, Jackal wouldn’t have survived his fight with you.”

“He didn’t win because I didn’t want to kill him! He won because he was so much fucking smarter than I am!”

“Let’s never tell him you said that, okay?”

Tibs’s anger hitch on the humor of Kroseph’s reaction, and before it could restart the server continued.

“You broke down on realizing what you did, Tibs. If there was any danger you’d let others be hurt making the guild pay, you’d have made sure Jackal was dead, instead of being devastated by the realization.”

“What if I can’t resist icing up again?” He felt sick at the idea. But he knew that would go away too, under the ice’s influence. “Jackal’s not going to be able to pull that trick on me again.”

When Kroseph didn’t answer, Tibs looked up. The server was studying him.

“You don’t trust me either.” Somehow, that made him feel better.

“Tibs, do you know what kind of drunk is the most dangerous?”

“The angry one.”

This server smiled and shook his head. “It’s the one who thinks they don’t have a problem. Who thinks getting drunk is just something they do when they feel like it. They’re the ones who’ll drink when it can affect their livelihood. If they’re guards, it can lead to people dying. And like how you were, until they are broken by it, they never see the problem they are.”

“And once they’re broken, they know better than to go back to it?” Tibs asked, surprised at the hope in his question.

Kroseph shook his head. “A lot of them go right back to drinking because they can’t cope with what they did. But that certainty never comes back. They’ll always know what they’re doing isn’t fixing the problem. And with some, they eventually have enough of that and fight their way out. With friends and family, it’s always easier.”

“So I might go back.” Tibs slumped. What was the point of trying if he might fail?

“You might.”

Tibs looked up.

“But if you do, I know a fighter who will be right there, ready to punch you back to your senses.”