Dungeon Runner
The Tiger Writes
sciencefiction
sciencefiction
31K5
Tibs survived by picking pockets; until he's caught.
Instead of losing a hand, he's sent away and told he must now survive a dungeon.
How is a kid who knew nothing more than his ...Bottom Rung, Chapter 35
The call to assemble came while Tibs was returning from delivering the box; if sitting at Old Walrus' bar with it and suddenly realizing he no longer had it counted as a delivery. The ale had been good, at least.
Halfway to the edge of the town, a man yelled. "Mezano!" and the archer froze.
Tibs groaned, recognizing the voice.
They turned and watched as a sorcerer in dark purple robes strode toward them, ignoring the protests from the people the two fighters walking before him shoved out of their way. By the time the four of them, the rogue stayed a pace behind Don, reach Tibs and his group, people were giving them all a wide berth.
Tibs looked around for guards, but they were probably all on the field; which was where anyone would expect problems. When Don shifted to glare at Tibs, he looked away, not interested in dealing with how the almost color of his eyes made him feel. Don looked over Jackal and Carina, smirking.
"Looks like you got back in time," Jackal said, sounding disappointed.
The larger one looked like he wanted to say something, but only glanced at Don and waited.
"You have the balls to jump team the moment a gang takes on these idiots and that's who you end up with?"
"Gang?" Carina asked.
Tibs studied the men they'd fought. They still had injuries, some of which included cuts. Those on the thug and rogue made sense, but where at the third fighter gotten them? Jackal had punched him.
Mez looked them over and sighed. "Thanks for the help, but—"
Jackal pushed him back before the archer moved and stepped between the groups. "Team or not, I know you don't want to go back with them."
The archer mumbled his agreement low enough Tibs didn't think anyone past Jackal heard.
"You're talking like you have a say in what Mezano does," Don said, stepping forward and fixing his gaze on Jackal. "When someone owes me his life, I collect."
Jackal pushed the sorcerer back, and he stumbled,
"How dare you touch me!"
"Then get those ugly things you call eyes out of my face." Jackal rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What color is that? How can you stand to look at it in a mirror?" He shuddered. "I wouldn't wish that on my worse enemy." Jackal suddenly grinned. "Well, they do fit your ugly personality, so you're welcome to them. Don, isn't it? Full of yourself, bossing people around. Yeah, I heard of you. So," he continued as the sorcerer fumed, "when me and my team rescued Mez from your thugs, was that you collecting on that debt you claim he owes you?"
The sorcerer stared at the fighter, his anger seeming to evaporate in surprise. "You're going to try to take the credit for beating my team?" He stepped forward, snarling. "What did you do? Show up while they were unconscious and kicked them? That's what you call rescuing that coward?"
Jackal stopped the sorcerer by shoving a finger against his sternum.
Don looked at it. "Do not touch me."
Jackal smirked. "Move it yourself."
"Jackal," Mez said, "it's okay. I really appreciate what you did, but you don't need to do more. I'll—"
"No Mezano," Don said, smiling, and Tibs moved his hand closer to his knife. Anytime he'd seen the sorcerer smiling like that, something bad had happened. "You don't need to grovel anymore. I was generous, I took you in when no one would, I thought you appreciated the gesture. Clearly, I was wrong." He took Jackal's hand in his, and the fighter's smirk became wide.