Breaking Step, Draft 1, CH 39 (Patreon)

“How sure are you about this?” Tibs asked Jackal, as he lit a lantern to illuminate the large space.

The fighter shrugged. “As sure as I can be, now that I don’t have much of a network in the town anymore. Having my father’s people here might have been more trouble than they were worth in the end, but at least I could convince them to tell me stuff.”

“I mean with you and Kroseph being here. We don’t know how I’m going to be when I channel Metal. At the very least, it’s going to be sharp and pointy.”

“I’m not worried,” Kroseph said. “You aren’t going to hurt us.”

“And if you try,” Jackal said, smirking. “I’ll stop you.”

It would be so simple to stick to the reserve of metal in his bracer. There was enough he could keep himself safe. And he had so many other elements to use, to master, he could take his time before focusing on this one.

“Tibs?” Kroseph asked.

He nodded, going around the room and lighting more lanterns until the space was in shadows instead of darkness. He could fill it with light, instead, but he had no idea how to have it stay while he channeled another element. Which of the letters even interacted with it.

Yet once more thing he needed to practice.

But for now, it was metal.

He stood in the middle of the empty room and channeled it.

Jackal stoned up and went on his guard.

“How do you feel?” Kroseph asked.

“Fine,” Tibs replied, searching for some difference in how he thought.

“Nothing’s changed?” Jackal asked, his tone suspicious. Right, he had tried to fool them when he was channeling Corruption.

“Nothing that I can feel. Maybe I already think like metal?”

“I doubt that,” Jackal said. “You channeled it in the dungeon and you were… more intense.”

“It was in the middle of a fight and I didn’t know what I’d done.”

“No Tibs, it wasn’t the same kind of intense, it—”

“It was.” Tibs fixed his gaze on the fighter. “I’d know how I felt better than you, don’t you think?”

“There it is,” Jackal said.

Tibs rolled his eyes. Jackal knew nothing, well, nothing about this. He pushed essence out of his hand, watched the cloud of it, before making a blade. It differed from his ice sword, and that annoyed him. It was still jagged, and he didn’t mind that. It was sort of his thing; he figured. Jagged and broken ice, but this sword looked broken, instead of having spikes jutting out. Like he was trying to meld multiple blades.

It looked ugly.

He focused on it and tried to will it smoother. The broken pieces shifted around, but didn’t align, he pushed more essence into the blade, tried to will it into a semblance of an unbroken sword, but all that happened was that each broken piece grew, giving him a larger mess of broken pieces.

Why couldn’t he get the abyss cursed thing to do what he wanted it to? He’d managed it with ice, forcing it into something smooth if he willed it hard enough, and Metal was definitely better than Water so this should be easier, not harder.

“Tibs,” Jackal said.

“I’ll get this.”

The fighter chuckled. “Maybe you should leave that for later and try something different.

“I said,” Tibs replied to clenched teeth as he turned and swung his hand in the fighter’s direction. “That I’ll get this.”

The broken sword came undone, and the pieces flew in Jackal and Kroseph’s direction. Tibs cursed inwardly as the fighter stepped before his man. How had he lost control of that, too? Metal was his. It should do what he willed. He ground his teeth and recalled the shards to him.

Those that had embedded into Jackal’s stone-body pulled out and returned. He had a sword of broken pieces again. That was not what he wanted.

“Well, that’s useful, I guess,” Jackal commented.

“That isn’t what I want.” He glared at the pieces. Used essence to shove them tighter, flatter into an actual sword.

“What do you want?” Kroseph asked.

“Kro, maybe you should stay behind me.”

The server walked to Tibs.

“A sword, what do you think I want?” Tibs replied without looking away from the pieces that just slid against each other instead of becoming a fucking sword.

“Why?”

“Because it’s what I want.”

“Maybe it’ll be easier to start with a knife.”

“I want a sword!” He glared at Kroseph and the pieces slip his control, shifting in all directions again. With an exasperated scream, he threw the mess away and reformed another sword. He’d get it to behave this time.

“Not one word,” he warned the server, as another mess of broken pieces formed.

“How about a few dozen of them?”

“So long as they aren’t about what I’m doing.”

“What are you doing?”

“Making a sword. Can’t you see?”

Kroseph nodded. “Because you want a sword.”

“Yes. And I’m going to get one.”

“Why do you think it’s like that?”

“Because I’m angry,” Tibs replied. That one was easy. “It was the same with the ice. Alistair said that it’s because deep down I’m angry and it’s reflected in it. Like he had any idea how fucking angry I am,” he muttered. “Him and his fucking guild. Any time I channel fire, it’s a struggle not to use in on them, even if I know it won’t to anything with all the magic protecting the building.”

“Do you think getting angrier is helping you get the sword to behave?”

“I don’t care,” Tibs snapped. “It’s my essence, it’s going to fucking do what I will it to.”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“No. I’ve got this.”

“Maybe you should take a break, Tibs.”

“I said I’ve got this!” He had the mess of broken pieces in the server’s face, and Jackal pulled him away.

Kroseph hadn’t looked worried.

“Tibs,” Jackal warned.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” he replied, focusing on the mess again.

“It’s okay,” Kroseph said.

“Kro, I really don’t know about this.”

“I think I understand how he’s thinking.”

“He’s turned stubborn,” Jackal said.

“No, he’s unbending in his thinking. Which is interesting, if you think about it, since metal is flexible when it’s well forged.”

Kroseph was next to him again.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tibs said.

“That’s unfortunate, Tibs, because I’d like you to let go of the element.”

“I’ve got this,” he said through greeted teeth.

“Maybe, but I want you to let it go, anyway.”

“I’m doing this!”

“No, you’re not.”

Tibs glared at the server. “You’re getting close to making me want to hurt you, Kroseph.”

“Okay, what’s this about?” the server asked.

“Making a fucking sword.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Look at this,” Tibs snarled, shaking the mess he was holding.

“But that isn’t why you came here, is it?”

“Who cares about that?” He felt the server’s gaze on him, but ignored it. It was a distraction from getting the metal to obey him.

“I didn’t think you’d lose focus so easily.”

“What did you say?” Tibs snarled. He let go of all the pieces except one. He didn’t need all of them to cut this human. They were all sharp.

“You got distracted from the reason you came here. And easily.”

“I don’t get distracted unless someone causes it.” He glared. “Like you.”

“Really? Tell me. Why did we come here?”

Tibs raised the broken pieces, the reason behind everything he’d done.

He frowned and looked at it.

Was it?

It was what he wanted to deal with right now, but had it been why he’d come here with Jackal and Kroseph?

No. They’d come here so he could figure out how Metal affected him.

“I get obsessed,” he said. “I don’t want to think about anything other than what I’m dealing with now. I don’t care about the consequences, of course.” He smiled, then it went away as the need to deal with the sword returned.

He let go of Metal, then absorbed the essence from the piece he held. “This is going to be a problem until I get control.”

“Seems to me like you got control easily enough,” Jackal said. “Mind healing this?” he indicated the gash in his stone stomach, the worse of the damage. “You owe a shirt.”

“I’ll mend it,” Tibs said, weaving purity. “You need to be flesh for this.”

Jackal’s skin regained its tan color and blood flowed freely from it and the other cuts in the second before Tibs applied the weave. It slowed as the skin mended.

“That one went deep,” he commented, sensing the weave thin as it spread along the internal injury. “If I’d intended it, I think I could have sent it all the way through.”

“How about we don’t test that?” Jackal said.

“And I didn’t get control of Metal. I just let go of it.”

“It happened faster than with the other elements,” Kroseph commented.

“It was easier to notice how my thinking wasn’t the same once you forced me to look at it.” The weave spread so thin it was now difficult to sense it among Jackal’s essence. “I think that it’s because I’ve had to do it for the others. I’m learning to understand how I’m different channeling an element.” He smiled. “Maybe I’ll get to the point where I can just get a new element and not have to destroy a building to gain control.”

“Considering the state of the previous one,” Jackal said, indicating the shards of metal embedded in the wall, “I’d say this is good.”

“But I’m not done.”

“Do you want to channel Metal again?” Kroseph asked.

Tibs shook his head. “I need to rest.”

“Then you might want to absorb all of these.”

Tibs looked at broken sword pieces in the wall and on the floor. He couldn’t absorb them. He’d used his core reserve to make them, and now it was back to being life. He’d have to channel Metal again for that.

He undid the metal pieces and let the essence disperse. It wasn’t like he needed the essence. The amount he’d used as he obsessed with getting the sword to look like his ice one was noticeable, but only a small amount compared to how vast his core reserve was.

“Do you think it’s safe from Tibs to train here again?” Kroseph asked as Tibs cracked the door open and listened for anyone in the dark alley.

“It might be best to avoid using the same place twice if he’s going to still add damage. The owner might miss the holes in the walls, but more and they’ll be sure to notice.”

Not hearing anyone, he carefully looked out.

“Don’t you just know if there’s people?” Jackal asked.

“I don’t want to depend only on one sense. There’s going to be magic out there that can fool it.”

“It’s not like anyone knows about how you do it.”

“There are still ways.” Tibs stepped outside. “Khumdar can hide completely from me with Darkness.”

“But he knows about your element,” Kroseph said.

“Any rogue who thinks he can’t be beaten is about to be dead,” Tibs said. “I’m not dying because of that one.”

“That’s Tibs,” Jackal said. “Wise beyond his years.”

* * * * *

Tibs walked the guild building, acting like he knew where he was going. He did. He was going to the training room, where Alistair would be waiting for him shortly, but he was taking the extremely long way around. He was now in a section he’d never been to before. More clerks walked around, barely paying him any attention. When one exited a room, Tibs got a flash of essence from within before the closed door blocked it all. All he had time to notice in that time was that it was woven essence. So enchantment. Magical items. Those Sto gave? Others? Why? And what did they do with them? If Tibs could get some of what was behind those doors, it could help him.

He made it to the training room as Alistair arrived.

“Why doesn’t Dhu interact with Darkness?” Tibs asked before his teacher could start on the lesson.

“How do you know it doesn’t?” with a flick of the wrist essence took shape in the center of the room, a mix of weaving and etching, or maybe it was just a different type of weave that included etching. The more Tibs perceived and thought he understood, the more he found out he didn’t.

“Khumdar told me.” Tibs had tried it. He’d tried etching with Darkness to see what he could make happen. Dhu hadn’t done anything, just liked Kha didn’t interact with Water.

“I don’t know.” The water took the form of a person. A watery version of Sto’s people golem, only less distinct as the water kept flowing. “It should be apparent now that if it’s from outside our element, I know little of it. What I know I picked up from other adventurers I worked with, and is probably suspect. Some guard what they know, even from their friends. And some do so by spreading lies. So be cautious of what others tell you about what they can and can’t do.”

“Why didn’t you learn more?” Tibs asked. “You can go anywhere you want. You have enough coins to get whatever you want. Why don’t you know everything there is to know about everything? That’s one thing I’d do if I have as many coins as you do.”

It’s what he’d do if he could show he had all those coins, at least. Not that he had that much. But for now, he had to be content with using it to help others. Once he was free of the guild, he’d take it and he’d find out everything he could.

Alistair smiled. “I never had your curiosity. If I need to know something, I learn about it, but unlike you, I don’t have the need to know everything. Not that I could, even if I did. Everything is much larger than you imagine.”

Tibs shrugged. “I’m still going to try.”

“A rogue with the knowledge of a scholar,” Alistair mused. “That will be interesting to see.” He motioned to the form, who took a defensive position. “Now, I want you to use what you’ve been practicing to take your opponent down.”

Tibs nodded and made a thin knife out of ice for his etching before running at the water creation, etching at the same time.

* * * * *

Tibs sighed as he put on the clothing. He hated them twice over now. Once because putting them on meant he was heading to the nobles, for Galdain’s party Tirania had forced him into. Well, that he’d let her force him into, because he needed to maintain the impression he was on her side. And a second time because Don had helped him get them.

Probably just another step in his plan to have Tibs grow complacent and trust him until he no longer questions what the sorcerer said.

He kicked the chest. Why couldn’t Don have been honest? He’d liking the man Don had pretended to be.

Which had been his plan.

He kicked the chest again.

Tibs should have known better, Don was nothing more than a self-serving asshole. He’d never change. That had been revealed now that the sorcerer didn’t need to maintain the act. Anytime Don came to the inn, he sneered at all of them.

Oh yeah, he made no pretense of being the same anymore.

Tibs almost kicked the chest again.

Instead, he snatched the overcoat from the back of the chair and put it on. He made a sheet of water before him, then stilled it until he made out his reflection.

He looked… He pulled on the sleeves, adjusted the shirt.

He looked like a street urchin hoping to fool nobles into thinking he was one of them.

He wanted to rip the clothes off. Go in his armor. He was a Runner, not… whatever his reflection claimed he was. At least his bracers fit under the sleeve of the shirt. He’d gotten that out of Don and the tailor, even if she’d looked at him oddly. Having eight essences on top of water he could easily pull on comforted him, even if he couldn’t do much with them without attracting unwanted attention.

He looked at his reflection again and forced his shoulders to unsag. He had an act to put on for the guild. He might as well get that over with.