Dungeon Runner

Bottom Rung, Chapter 32

"You can stop screaming, silly." The voice was light, moving around him. "There's nothing for you to hit here."

"Help!" Tibs reached for the voice, but there was only more wind. Wind screaming all around as he fell.

"I am," the giggle forced him to open his eyes and look for who was speaking. The form was wisps of air and dust ever-shifting among them. It looked small and fragile. The dust gave her form, petite, slim, providing shadows that didn't quite resemble a person.

Tibs reached for the form, hoping she was solid. He needed to stop his fall before he hit the ledge.

She flitted away. "A game!"

"Stop!" Reaching for her sent him into a tumble.

"Catch me if you can," she sing-sang, and then all that was left was the howling of the wind.

There had to be something, some way to stop his fall. If she wasn't going to help, it was up to him to —

"You didn't chase me," she said, disappointed. "I thought we had a game."

He reached for her, and she giggled, staying out of reach. "Come back," he called. "I need to get it." It was there, it had to be, within her. He just had to get her to stay still long enough to make it out.

"Oh, it's you!" she was over him, and he waggled his arms until he had the wind turn him over, but he couldn't make her out. "You made it!" she was to his side. "You came!" under him. "I'm so happy you came!"

He bit back his annoyance, remembering he had to treat her with respect. Even if she sounded like a child, she was an element, she was Air. He spread an arm, used the wind to turn himself over until he sort of faced her. Stopping his turn proved more difficult, but she followed him, giggling as he worked to settle his position. He ended on his side, compared to the direction of the wind.

He looked around, there was nothing. No ledge, no ground. Just as there had only been water and then earth, there was nothing other than air, and the dust that let him make her form out easier.

"Please, can I have it?" why did she stay out of his reach? Where was the shape, the shadow of the shape?

"The old meanie said I shouldn't give it to you." She said. Tibs thought she crossed her arms over her chest. "He was all. 'He. Must. Earn. It.' She lowered her voice and spoke slowly. Tibs chuckled at her attempt to imitate Earth. "I was so bored. He's so boring. He never plays games." She giggled and was gone.

He maneuvered himself, saw her on his side, upside-down compared to him. Was he falling up? Was he falling at all? If there was nothing to fall toward, was it still falling, or was it like when he floated on the lake in his mind? He groaned. Why was this so complicated?

She giggled, and he focused on her. If he wasn't going to hit anything, he needed to find the shadow and get it. It was why he was here. He reached for her, his hand open; it caught the wind, and he was tumbling again, screaming in fear.

He got the fear under control, then fought the wind to steady himself. The exercise leaving him panting.

"Are you not playing anymore?" Air asked, disappointed.

"Just let me catch my breath," he said. "I'll try again after that."

She laughed. "Catch your breath!" she laughed harder, tumbling away. "Why did you let it get away from you?" she steadied herself effortlessly and drifted back. She reached within her and gathered the dust into a form. "Is this your breath?"

Tibs stared. Of course, it hadn't been dust; dust was earth. It didn't belong here. He opened his mouth to say yes and stopped himself. What would happen if he lied to Air? Nothing good, he expected.