Tibs looked over the map of the town. He hadn’t known there was an official map until Darran brought it to him. Until then, he’d been using the one the rogues had made, spread over stacks and stacks of papers. Samuel had redone some, fixed others and even glued papers together, so some areas were easier to understand, but he hadn’t made one map of them all.
Tibs had mentioned to the merchant, when he’d bought a new set of lock picks, how the pieces of papers made figuring out how to position his people almost harder than just going from his memory. They got moved around, misplaced, or the people drawing them hadn’t used the same system of symbols.
A few hours later, Darran was at the inn, taking the largest piece of paper Tibs had ever seen out of a tube and unrolling it on his table. In the time between it was taken out and unrolled, Tibs figured it was so he could draw the town and have it all on one paper, but Kragle Rock was already on it. Drawn in precise lines of ink instead of crude charcoal.
There was a group, Darran explained, whose sole job was planning the town, and making sure the maps were accurate. The description reminded Tibs of what Samuel had told him his father did, other than the making of maps part.
When Tibs asked how much it cost, the merchant smiled and said that it was his contribution to the defense of the town.
Immediately Tibs, Jackal and Quigly set about using it to prepare and now it was covered with charcoal lines and letters and numbers showing where the Runners should assemble depending on how Sebastian attacked.
* * * * *
Don entered, and Tibs sighed at what would be another interruption. He’d lost count of them over the last days. The number of Runners who told him they couldn’t fight, townsfolk demanding to be included in the defense, or those imploring him for a way to leave before the attackers arrived.
With a few exceptions, they were always asking for something that was out of his control.
Hopefully, Don had some good news for him this time.
“The Attendants aren’t returning,” the sorcerer said, then dropped into a seat next to Quigly, leaving one as space between him and Jackal.
“The guild’s not even trying, are they?” The fighter said.
“I… don’t know,” Don admitted unhappily. “Those I’ve been asking all tell me it’s not their decision, and they’re right. Harry and Tirania are never available when I try to talk with them, nor anyone who would know what the decision has been.”
Quigly shook his head. “They don’t want anyone to leave. This is going to be a war, and they’re going to use us as fodder.”
“I don’t know that word,” Tibs said, “but it doesn’t sound like anything good.”
The warrior looked the map over. “We’re going to lose.”
“I’m not just going to hand Sebastian the town,” Tibs protested.
“If you insist on using this plan, you are.”
“He’s going to be at his most vulnerable once he’s in Market Place,” Jackal said. “We’re going to be able to surround him. We’ll be able to pick at his forces on the way there.”
“I am telling you again,” Quigly said, “you cannot wait for him to be inside the town.”
“That’s where he was when we kicked him out,” Jackal pointed out.
“That was a different situation, one you had no choice in how you handled and one where Sebastian miscalculated when he judged what you were capable of. How many people can he have brought here? How many more can he pay to join his assault?”
Tibs looked at Don.
“Oh, now you want me to weight in?” the sorcerer asked, but the bitterness sounded forced.
“You’re better at this than I am.” Tibs motioned to the map. “So long as you don’t tell me to let the guild deal with it, I want to know what you think.”
“You’re not going to like it.”
Jackal snorted. “When do we ever like what you’ve got to say?”
“You’re being this kind of idiot.” Don thumbed at Jackal. “You have someone who fought one war sitting at your table, but you’re too stubborn to listen to his advice because it’s beyond what you’re able to understand. I don’t understand what a war will mean here, and I’ve read about them. What I do know, is that you’re not going to win if all you want is to do things your way.”
At least Don hadn’t told him to let the guild handle this, Tibs thought bitterly. He looked at Quigly, taking the rag they used to remove the charcoal marks from the map.
“Okay, how should we be handling this?”
* * * * *
“He can’t help,” Don snarled, grabbing the tankard off the table and emptying it.
“Hey,” Jackal protested, “that’s mine.”
“Get your man to bring you another.” The sorcerer dropped into the seat.
“You knew the guild doesn’t care about us,” Carina said.
“Harry isn’t the guild,” Don replied and Jackal snorted.
“I told you it was a waste of time,” Tibs said. “You’re the one who insisted Harry would do the right thing.”
“You should have been there with me,” the sorcerer said. “We could have convinced him. But you’re too busy with making yourself important.” He motioned to the rolled-up map.
“He’s not the one out there claiming we’re all going to be safe so long as the town listens to him,” Jackal said.
“I’m keeping the townsfolk from panicking,” Don countered. “All you’re doing is scaring them.”
“What we’re doing,” Tibs said in as calm a tone as being accused by Don let him, “is everything we can to make sure the town survives. That means not wasting time waiting for the guild to act, or just being its voice.”
“I was supposed to do good that way!”
The whole inn fell silent in the wake of Don’s exclamation and Tibs forced himself to remain calm.
“You did,” he finally said. “As you said, you’re keeping the town from panicking. You know how to talk to them. I just tell them I can’t help, and that’s not what they want. I’m street, I can take things being bad, that’s how they’ve been most of the time for me. I don’t know how to make them think they’re going to be better other than telling them I’m working hard at it.”
“At least you haven’t made promises those who should keep them won’t. I told them the guild would keep everyone safe. What is the town going to do to me when they realize I can’t keep them safe like I promised I would?”
“What if you could still keep them safe? Or some of them?” he added. As confident as he was of his plan, he hadn’t talked with Sto about it yet.
“Tibs,” Jackal warned.
“What are you talking about?” Don asked, looking from the fighter to Tibs suspiciously.
“The dungeon can protect some of them.”
The sorcerer narrowed his eyes. “Everything in there tries to kill us. The townsfolk aren’t going to last minutes.”
“The entryway’s safe,” Tibs replied.
“It’s…” Don thought it over. “It’s not that big.”
“But we can pack people in, as many as we can. I’m going to need you to convince them to only have those who matter go in.”
“What if the door’s closed?” the sorcerer asked, looking thoughtful. “If the attack starts when the dungeon’s closed, that’s another promise I’ll have made that won’t come true. And we can just ask them to go in now.”
“We’re going to know when my father’s no more than a day away,” Jackal said. “And I can tell you that the fighting’s going to start the next day at the latest.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“You’re going to initiate the fight?” Don asked in disbelief.
Jackal grinned. “You’re the one who told us to listen to Quigly. Aren’t you happy we did?”
“Fine, but that doesn’t resolve the issue of the door.”
“I can handle that,” Tibs said.
“You, can open a dungeon door?” Don asked, the disbelief even stronger.
Tibs smiled and ignored the worried look Carina gave him. “I’m a rogue, and that’s just a door.”
* * * * *
The guards at the bottom of the stairs eyed him suspiciously as he walked by them.
“What’s going on?” Sto asked. “Everyone’s been talking about an attack, and the guards at the door keep muttering about how it’s all your fault.”
Once Tibs was out of earshot of the guards, he said. “Sebastian’s on his way. He’s going to try to destroy the town.”
“What about you? What about the Runners? Tibs, what happens to me if they aren’t there?”
“The guild’ll make sure there’s always Runners to go through your halls.”
“Oh good,” Sto said, relieved, then. “I’m not getting something, aren’t I? You might die in that fight. What you told me about how the Siege went, it was bad.”
“This is going to be worse. Sebastian didn’t want to destroy the town then. We’re going to need your help if we’re going to win.”
“Tibs, I can’t do anything outside, and if I could, I’m not allowed to act like that. I’m a dungeon. I’m not someone who protects people.”
“You don’t have to do anything outside. I just need you to do two things.”
“I’m listening,” Sto said, sounding uncertain.
“We’re going to need weapons. They can’t be magic because the guild’s going to take that from us, but they need to be good quality. Our lives are going to depend on them not breaking as we use them.”
“I can do that. I can’t promise the loot will have the exact weapon the Runner needs, but I can change the list. Only giving out ordinary loot, even if it’s better quality, will save me some essence.”
“It can’t all be normal. There has to be some with essence.”
“But you said the guild’s going to take them.”
“If there’s never anything for them to take, they’re going to start wondering what you’re doing, or if we’ve gotten something that lets us hide some loot.”
“The way Jackal might do with his pouch.”
“Yes. So there needs to be a few magical items. They’ll take that. We get to keep the rest.”
“Okay. What’s the second thing?”
“I need you to make space for the townsfolk to hide inside you while the fighting happens.”
“Tibs,” Sto said after a long silence, “I’m a dungeon. I test people, and those who can’t pass, I eat. I don’t need Ganny to tell me how wrong it’ll be for me to turn off my traps and my creatures to let people in.”
“I’m not asking you to turn anything off. If Ganny’s nearby, have her listen to what I’m asking. If it breaks the rules too much, we’ll figure something else.”
“I’m listening,” Ganny said, tone more severe than usual. “I heard everything you said.” That would explain the tone.
“All I’m asking is for you to increase the size of the entryway. Nothing else.”
“How large?” she asked.
“Large enough to fit everyone in the town.”
“How many people is that?” Sto asked.
“A lot,” Ganny said. “Tibs, we’re not supposed to get involved. People think we’re animals, and we’re not supposed to do anything to change that.”
“No one’s going to know you’re doing it to help. Sto is alway altering his halls. So this is just one more change.”
“But it’s a large one, Tibs. Towns can have thousands of people in them.”
“Is that a lot?” Sto asked.
“It is,” Tibs replied. Those weren’t the kind of numbers he was dealing with yet, but he was getting close.
“And making changes like that comes at a cost,” Ganny said.
“Not that much of one,” Sto countered. “I can easily triple the size of the entryway and not notice it.”
“You’re going to have to do that a hundred times at least,” she replied.
“Oh. That is a lot.”
Tibs nodded. “So you can’t help with that.”
“I want us to, Tibs,” Ganny said, “but there are rules, and they’re there for a reason.”
“But I need the Runners, right?” Sto said.
“Yes,” Ganny replied suspiciously.
“And the Runners need the townsfolk. Tibs told us that. You’ve heard how the Runners talk about them during the runs.”
“You’re stretching things,” she said, but didn’t sound as adamant as she usually did when she was about to cut off one of Sto’s plans. There was a definiteness to that tone Tibs could easily identify.
“Then, don’t I need the townsfolk, too?”
“That’s not—” she stopped. “I don’t—” the silence stretched. “Okay, I think I see a way we can do it. Not giving away as many items with essence does grant us a reserve that we can tap into without attracting their attention. But it’s going to have to be slow, Sto. None of that all at once stuff you pulled that first time.”
“No worries there. I ached after that for way too long.”
“So, you’re going to do it?” Tibs asked, not entirely believing it.
“Yes, Tibs,” She replied. “We’re going to help.”
“Oh, one last thing. About the door.”
* * * * *
Yells of surprise caused Tibs to look up from the papers. The crowd in the inn was parting, but unevenly; as if something he couldn’t see was shoving them aside. Cursing, Jackal got up and moved away from the table. Before Tibs could ask why, something hit the side of his chair hard enough it skidded. Then a dog had its paws on the seat and was licking his face.
“Down,” Tibs ordered, trying to push Thumper away. “Stop that. Jackal get—”
“I am not getting close to that thing,” the fighter stated.
“How about a nice bowl of broth?” Kroseph said, putting it on the floor.
Thumper sniffed the air, then had its nose in the bowl, lapping away. Tibs wiped at his face before running his fingers along the dog’s collar and pulling the paper that was lodged underneath.
“The Caravan has been sighted,” he read. “It’ll be here tomorrow.”
“I guess it’s time to set everything up,” Jackal replied. He eyed the dog. “I’ll go tell Quig.” He kissed Kroseph and left.
Tibs petted Thumper as it licked the bowl cleaned. “And I’m going to go tell Don.”
* * * * *
The crowd parted to let Don through, with Tibs and Jackal following a few steps behind. It had taken most of the day for word to spread and get everyone assembled in the field at the foot of the dungeon. Of course, that hadn’t gone unnoticed, so the line of guards, with Harry at the head, blocked the way to the stairs.
“I hope you can play your part,” Don muttered as he slowed for Tibs and Jackal to fall in next to him. “Because this all goes to the abyss otherwise.”
“I knew this was your idea,” Harry snarled, glaring at Jackal.
“My idea?” the fighter replied? “You think I’m that smart? That I’d be able to come up with a plan to protect the townsfolk when you wouldn’t do it, yet again?”
“This isn’t your—”
“You lied to me!” Don yelled loud enough for the accusation to carry over most of the crowd. “You promised me you’d look after everyone this time. That your guild would keep us safe.”
“I tried convincing Tirania,” Harry snapped.
“And just because your guild leader tells you to let everyone die, you’ll do it?” Don’s tone turned gentle. “Just do the right thing, Harry.”
Harry’s expression turned pained as he looked at Don. As, Tibs thought, he did everything he could not to see the people around them. “I can’t,” he said through clenched teeth.
“And there is it,” Jackal said. “You really are a Wells, aren’t you, Knuckles. Blindly taking orders like the rest of us.”
“I am nothing like you!” the man bellowed, hands in fists and trembling from not acting.
Jackal laughed. “When has there ever been any doubt about that? When have you seen me do what anyone’s told me to do? I am my own man. I have made more screwed up decisions than can be counted, but they were mine! When’s the last time you made up your own mind? Harry? Was it the day you betrayed your family for a new master, or did they make that decision for you? How’s that working out for you? How’s that light inside you dealing with the fact you’re still just some thug breaking the necks of the people you’re told to break? Or is the fact that it’s no longer a criminal telling you to do it enough to soothe it?”
“You think I want to stand here protecting that thing?” Harry yelled, pointing to the closed door as he stepped toward Jackal. “You think I don’t want to be out there, getting ready to stop my brother? To wipe the stain that are the Wells from this world?”
“Why don’t you?” Jackal asked calmly. “Leave your guards here. Walk away from this and go through the town. You know that you being on the front line will save lives. Not just Runners or townsfolk. My father’s only using money to make the people with him fight. He probably told them how easy this is going to be, almost as if he knew the guild wouldn’t lift a finger to help. But the family, they remember you. It’s not just your betrayal that is spoken of, but your courage, your strength. How no one who ever stood before you survived your assault. They see you there, with us. They’re going to know they are the lost cause. You can end the war before it starts, Harry.”
“I can’t,” he growled, anger in his eyes. “I have my orders.”
Jackal’s nod was sad. “And a Wells never disobeys his master’s orders, does he?” Harry’s anger cracked, and Jackal nodded again. “If you aren’t going to do what you can to stop the fighting, at least tell me you have the courage to do something that will save some of the townsfolk’s lives.”
“I have my orders,” Harry said, pain mixing with his anger.
“Do those orders prevent anyone from entering the dungeon?”
The question confused Harry. “No, but the door’s closed, no one can—”
The rumble of stone on stone caused him to snap his head to the opening door.
“What do you know?” Jackal said smugly. “The dungeon’s not closed anymore.”
Harry looked from the door to Jackal, his mouth moving, but no sounds coming.
“How the fuck did you manage that?” Don muttered.
“I’m a rogue,” Tibs replied. “And that’s just a door.”
“Helps that you know the dungeon controlling it,” Sto said.
“Are you going to gawk at me all day?” Jackal asked. “I don’t mind, really. Well, actually, I do mind. I have a special guy already, and you, Don, aren’t my type. So, how about you get that rousing speech ready for them?” He looked at Harry. “Unless you plan on opposing defenseless people seeking shelter? Did your guild give you orders to make sure they all died out there?”
The guard leader looked lost, then he stepped aside, and with that motion, the other guards moved to open the way up the stairs.
“All yours,” Jackal told Don as he turned and stood next to the sorcerer.
Don gave Tibs one more sideways glance, then straightened and looked at the crowd. “People of Kragle Rock, today will be a hard day. The enemy approaches, and those we looked to for protection have denied us. Fear not!” he raised his hands as the crowd grew agitated. “Not all is lost! I, Jackal and Tibs have secured safety for some of you.”
Tibs caught the surprised look from Jackal at being included. He was mainly surprised Don had said his friend’s name without the usual disdain.
“The dungeon has opened its door to you, and as much as we want to tell you, all will be safe within; there is only limited space. It will not be comfortable, but I promise you that it will be safe.”
Instead of protesting at the idea of setting foot inside the dungeon, which was what Tibs had expected, the crowd waited quietly, almost eagerly.
“Children and their caretakers will go in first,” Don said, “then the elderly and the sick. If there is still space, then the able-bodied will go in. If you want to fight with us. If you want to play your part in keeping your town safe, in protecting your loved ones, we will welcome you. But so long as there is space within, no one will fault you for seeing whatever safety is to be found within the dungeon.”
The crowd moved, families with children being allowed to the front. The town didn’t have many elderly, but those there were assisted in forming a group of their own.
“You will be in the entryway,” Don said as the crowd rearranged itself. “It is the only safe place within the dungeon. The traps in the first room have killed many. Do not step into it. The dungeon will eat you if you do.”
Don looked at the townsfolk for a few seconds, then stepped aside and the first of the families started up the steps.