Breaking Step, Draft 1, CH 57 (Patreon)

“Gur, when use with Water essence, without any other letters, adds and element etherealness to it, that—”

“Ethera…?” Tibs couldn’t work out the rest of how to say it.

“Etherealness,” Alistair repeated slowly. “It’s… The ethereal is the… space in which essence is. It’s what is between essence.”

“Isn’t that air?”

His teacher shook his head. “First, remember I’m a rogue and not a scholar. What I’m telling you is what I remember being told. I expect I had that same confused expression then, so I might be wrong about some of this. Air is an element. The elements exist outside what we consider real, but they are still connected to the real, somehow. That is the Ethereal. It’s also part of everything around us, even if we can’t sense it. Scholars things that—”

Tibs raised his hand. “I’m getting a headache. I’ll ask a scholar if I want to know more.”

“When.” Alistair chuckled as Tibs’s frown. “When you want to know more. Your curiosity is never ending. It’s just a question of time until you decide to learn more about it.”

“Unless my mind breaks before that.”

“I’m confident it is strong enough to take in everything you feed it.”

“My headache says no, it’s not.” Tibs rubbed his temple. “What does this etherealness do with water?”

Alistair nodded. “You have seen mist and fog?”

“Some morning when there’s a lot of water essence in the air, it does something and becomes fog.”

“Something?”

Tibs closed his eyes and thought back, trying to remember what the essence had felt like. He released essence around him and moved it, brought it closer and tighter until it coalesced into beads suspended in the air. A little more and those beads touched one another. He opened his eyes, and the room was filled with a thin mist.

“This.”

“This is like etherealness.” Alistair moved a hand and wisps moved on the current.

“Then why do I want to use a letter if I can do it like that?”

The essence was pulled out of his control and the fog became a ball of water, which Alistair handed to him. Once he absorbed it, Tibs watched as his teacher’s hands moved between them. Water essence trailing his fingers, etching threads and a letter between them. It happened too fast for him to make out details. Once done, a wall of water separated them.

He touched it. The water was solid. He pushed against it and it resisted.

“That doesn’t seem like how you described ‘etherealness’.”

Alistair reached through the water and grabbed Tibs’s wrist before he could react. The water essence hadn’t changed as Alistair’s hand moved. 

In such a wall, if Tibs had made it, the essence would have parted as his hand moved, but the strands were still there, going through his teacher’s forearm. When Alistair pulled on his wrist, Tibs’s hand connected with the water and stopped.

“Using Gur lets you set conditions for when or what it will react to. By itself, those will be simple. Right now, it’s letting my arm through because I added Gur to the essence within it so it would ‘recognize’ it. But combining it with other letters, on top of altering the precise result of what it will do, you can make it so that someone without essence can pass through.”

Tibs thought about the enchantment that permeated the guild. “Like having a security enchantment ignore someone with a specific key.”

“Exactly. Many broad enchantment will be created with such a key in mind, especially if more than the group who created it needs to pass through it.”

“Like the way I get lost in the building. Do you have a key for it?”

Alistair took a medallion out of a pouch. It looked like the one he’d stolen.

“Shouldn’t it be secret? What if I take it from you?”

“I’d like to see you accomplish that.” The medallion was back in the pouch. “But then, you’d be able to walk around the guild without getting lost.”

“And I could cause trouble.”

Alistair nodded. “And then you’d get caught, put in a cell. Depending on the kind of trouble you caused, you’d either get reprimanded, or branded.” He tapped his left wrist.

“So… I should make sure I don’t get caught.”

Alistair laughed. “Tibs, you’d get caught before you even started. The guild keeps an eye on anyone they think will cause them trouble. The moment they seem ready to act, they are stopped.”

Tibs nodded. He wouldn’t be able to have a trial run. Once he figured out how to get the big guild leader here, he’d have to act.

The wall of water dissipated. “Now, how about we forget any plans to rob the guild, and focus on working with Gur?”

* * * * *

Tibs walked through the crowd, paying attention to how he felt with each step.

He felt stupid; that was how he felt.

It was one thing to sit and listen to his breathing and pay attention to his emotions at the same time. But Don had instructed him to continue doing that the rest of the time. And that was just stupid.

He didn’t have the time to pay attention to how he felt when he was out and about. It kept distracting him from reaching into a heavy-looking pocket, as he noticed he felt some guilt about it. He was just a copper, and the person was dressed well enough they wouldn’t miss it. But by the time he’d worked that out, the opportunity had passed. 

Or he’d end up with a copper in his fingers, having forgotten he was supposed to pay attention to how he felt.

It was all so much of a bother.

He was supposed to enjoy walking through the bazaar.

The merchants had arrived the day before, and while the crowd had been initially light, with so many runners out of the town, along with those who could afford to travel while the dungeon was closed, the travel platform had disgorged people all of today, filling Market Place with so many pockets for Tibs to choose from.

If he didn’t get lost in realizing he’d felt pity for the person he’d chosen not to pick the pocket of. And why had he felt like that? Why has the fraying end of the coat made him think he should give them a pass when that coat was worth more than many families in the town earn in a year? Then debating with himself if he should or shouldn’t pick the pocket specifically because he’d felt pity and…

Thinking about was he did was so much bother!

It was much simpler to just do it.

He hated the way Don was training him.

He reached in the pocket for a candy and didn’t find any. Well, he had done one thing without thinking. He’d eaten all the candies he’d bought. 

He rolled the copper in his hand. He could certainly buy more.

* * * * *

“No.”

“Tibs.” Don’s tone was that Alistair used when he acted like he was being patient with Tibs’s stubbornness.

“I said no. It’s not doing anything.”

The sorcerer’s sigh was cut, as if he’d realized he hadn’t meant to show his annoyance, and Tibs considered that a victory. “It’s only been two weeks since we started. You can’t expect results after only that short of a time.”

“I can learn to Etched in a few days!” a quick, needless, motion had a sheet of water colliding with Don, then pouring over him the way he’d watch the artisan form soft candies at the bazaar on the last day they were there.

“Really?” The sorcerer’s voice was muffled as water slowly wrapped around him. “Isn’t this childish, even for you?”

Tibs narrowed his eyes. “You want me to show you what else I learned in a few days and leave you encased in this until the dungeon’s open again?”

“I want you to be a Runner and not a child.”

Tibs startled at the intonation of child. It was the way Mez said it when he used it to describe when someone acted in a way unbecoming of the kind of noble he aimed to be.

“I am not a child,” Tibs said through clenched teeth. Don simply looked at him, his face distorted by the sheet of water. With an angry gesture, Tibs undid the etching. “Don’t ask me how I feel.”

“I don’t have to; it’s quite apparent.” He motioned to the space on the floor. “How about we sit and breathe?”

Tibs thought of a bunch of nasty reply to throw in the sorcerer’s face. But he was simply angry out of frustration, and that wasn’t Don’s fault. He took a breath, let it out as he sat and crossed his legs, then slowly inhaled.

Don was doing this to help him. He didn’t have to. He was doing it because he wanted to. The least Tibs owed him in return was to give it his best effort, as he did with everything.

* * * * *

The string of curse that left Don’s mouth as he walked in circle, holding the arm Jackal had tapped, surprised Tibs. He hadn’t known the sorcerer knew quite that level of foul language.

“You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”

“I didn’t.”

“You nearly dislocated my shoulder!”

“I could have ripped it off.”

Don stared at the fighter. “And what would that accomplish?” he glared at Tibs. “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”

“Tibs has nothing to do with it,” Jackal said. “You’re too comfortable standing at the back and lobbing essence.”

“I’m a sorcerer. It’s what I do.”

“And cower.”

“Jackal,” Mez snapped as Don paled.

The fighter looked at them, confused. “What? When that Ratling managed to make it to him in that fight the last time we were in the dungeon, all he could do was wail in pain.”

“Those swords hurt!” Anger was helping Don get over how Jackal’s words had made him react.

“It’s a creature trying to kill you,” Jackal replied. “I’d hope getting poked by a sword hurts.”

“Then how about you make sure none of them reach me!”

“I can’t do that,” Jackal replied. “Which is why you have to get used to staying focused even, especially when you’re in pain.”

“So you’re going to break all my limbs until I learn?”

“Tibs will heal you,” Jackal said dismissively, then looked at Tibs. “You have told him you can do that, right? I’m not revealing something you’re keeping secret from him, right?”

“Yes, Tibs told me.” Don lowered the arm.

“Good. Then let’s go again.”

“Why in the abyss are you doing this to me now when we could have started softer earlier?”

“You weren’t talking to us when the dungeon closed,” Jackal replied as he swiped at the sorcerer. 

Don stepped out of the way. “It’s more than none of you came looking.”

Another swipe. “We were respecting that Tibs was pissed at you. You could have come and spoken to more than Mez.”

“And have you punch me in the face?” another easy dodge. “No, thank you.”

“Then—” Punch, evade, “—you started training Tibs and I figure you two needed the time.” Punch, punch, punch.

Don blocked and was cursing again.

“And it’s been over a month since the dungeon closed its door. I figure we’re in the last weeks or days before we go in again.”

“So you’re going to main me.”

“So I’m going to make sure you don’t die. Tibs doesn’t like it when people on our team die.”

“The way you’re hurting me, I’m going to want to die.”

“Then you’re going to want to get over that. If you die, Tibs is going to kick you. I punch in the face.” Jackal grinned. “He kicks lower.”

“And you can’t turn that to stone,” Tibs added. “Unlike him.”

Don looked from Jackal to Tibs. “I can’t tell if you’re serious.”

“Don’t die, and you won’t have to find out,” Tibs replied.

“I can easily not die if I’m not writhing in pain,” Don stated.

“That’s the problem. You have to not die even if you are in pain, Don. You can’t depend on us to keep you safe.”

“That’s your role as the fighter.”

“And I do my best, but there will be fights where we all end up taking hits, and right now, you’re too scared of being hurt to keep fighting. So I’m going to get you used to pain so that when we go back, a sword poking out of your side is going to feel like your girl scratching you where you like it.”

“I’m concerned that you think I’d ever equate getting stabbed to something pleasurable.”

“It’s all relative, Don. The more pain I inflict on you today, the less that sword is going to feel like pain tomorrow.”

“I think this is more about you getting back at me for what I did to your hand the first time we crossed path.”

The smile Jackal gave the sorcerer was feral. “Now, why does it have to be one or the other?”

Don glanced at Tibs. “Tell me you can revive the dead.”

“No, but I won’t have to.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Jackal knows what I’ll do to him if he kills you.”

“I’m still going to be dead.”

“He needs that part of his body more than he might want to kill you.”

Don shook his head. “I swear. You two as the strangest pair I’ve ever encountered.”

“He’s the little brother I never got the chance to have torture me,” Jackal said, then advanced on the sorcerer.