Dungeon Runner

Bottom Rung, Chapter 03

"You," a voice called as Tibs exited the large tent that was the barracks. He and those around him froze. Tibs's controlled his urge to run. On the streets, you didn't wait for the guards when they called, not if you wanted to keep your hand. As he turned to face the adventurer who'd spoken, some fled. The man was a fighter. Big, in chain mail, with a sword at his side and a shield over his back. His eyes where a gray matching his sword and his gaze was piercing.

Tibs couldn't move as it fixed on him and he heard more run off. The adventurer glanced away and Tibs thought he'd have his chance, but the eyes were on him again.

"Looks like there's one smart guy in this town." The man smirked. "You're going in the dungeon today. Be at the gathering point two hours before zenith."

"My training," Tibs asked, before realizing there was a more important question. "Where is that?"

"The dungeon is more important, just tell whoever's training you that's where you're going." He studied Tibs. "Are you even one of the crooks they brought here? If you're just pretending, I'm warning you, you don't want to go in the dungeon."

Tibs nodded. In the three days he'd been here, that was the most common reaction. When he joined the work-groups after the training, he was dismissed and told to go back to his parents. Now, this adventurer also thought he might be some merchant or worker's son. Too late, he realized it would have gotten him out of going to the dungeon.

The adventurer clasped his hand on his shoulder and pointed toward the mountain. "Just go where you were assembled when you arrived."

"The clearing?"

"Yeah. You'll see the others. You aren't with the first group." The fighter released him and walked away.

Tibs hesitated, then hurried to the mess hall for a bowl of the slop they called breakfast; the same substance they'd called dinner the previous night, or lunch before that. Done, he joined his training group and informed the old thief he'd need to leave for the dungeon partway through the training. He received a disinterested shrug from him. The others gave him surprised and worried looks.

Before anyone could ask him questions, they were set to studying traps.

* * * * *

People were assembled closer to the mountain, at the bottom of a slope leading to the rocky facade where three people were exiting a crack in the rock. It seemed narrow as they had to help the last one through, then they were supporting him or her, walking down, as a group of five were motioned to head up to the crack.

"You," someone called as Tibs headed for the groups at the bottom of the slope. Again he froze at the authority in the voice and looked in its direction. "Come here." The man stood behind a table with shirts, swords, bows, and knives on it. He wore a worn but bright red robe.

Tibs cast a glance at the assembled people and noticed they wore shirts the same dirty gray as those on the table.

The adventurer looked him over, frowning. "What are you?" His eyes were the same strange shifting colors as the woman who'd addressed all the thieves that first day.

Tibs struggled to figure out what he meant.

"Your class dimwit."

"Thief?" Tibs had meant to make it a statement.

"You sure? If you're some merchant kid who thinks he's going to have fun in there, you're wrong."

"I am a thief," he stated.

The man didn't look convinced, but he shrugged and threw a shirt at him. "Put that over what you're wearing.

The weight as it impacted Tibs almost him lose his balance. The fabric was thick and without any holes in it. It was too big for him, going down almost to his knees, but despite not being as thin or supple as what he normally wore, he managed to fold the sleeves until his hands and forearms were free.