Tibs laughed as he ran along the roofs. The wind caught in his black cloak, making it dance behind him, exposing the black clothing he’d worn for this day’s excursion to the people chasing him. But no matter how hard it blew, the hood remained in place, the thick leather edging giving it weight and stiffness.

“In the name of the king,” a panting woman yelled behind him, “I order you to stop!” She was the only one of the guards who’d managed to keep up with him.

He laughed harder, pushing it to the edge of deranged. “The Night Runner stops for neither Kings nor nobles!” He jumped over the alley with ease and kept running.

He’d picked this route for him to be chased, this time, because it meant jumping over alleys and narrow roads. Today, his goal was not to lose his pursuers, but to ensure they kept up until the very end.

One of the two adventurers that ran along with her formed an etching. They had Lightning, where the other one had Earth. Both with dense essence that marked them as being barely past their Epsilon examination. He didn’t know if the city, or someone else, had hired them, but they’d been here for a week now, asking about the robberies, and had joined in, keeping him from entering the noble’s house.

The reason didn’t matter, their presence would make his performance more believable. He channeled metal as he laughed and made an etching of his own.

Another reason for this route was where it ended.

The city had been built at the base of a mountain a river had cut into two. Opening it to the sea on the other side. As it grew from the increasing trade, it built up the mountain, having to come to a natural end at the cliff sides, with building butting right to it, giving anyone running in that direction nowhere to go, other than down. And the water was far enough, with plenty of rocks jutting out, that no one could be expected to survive such a fall.

He wrapped his etching of metal around the closest metal rod that jutted out of a roof. They were everywhere, to deal with the frequent lightning storms the city experienced. It made the rod more attractive to the adventurer’s lightning.

They threw the etching at him, and the Night Runner laughed.

He was certain they’d accounted for lightning’s natural like to metal in the etching; he thought he could even sense Maur within it; the Arcanus could be used to change what an element responded to.

But that only worked when the metal calling to it didn’t also have an etching of its own, stretching and bridging the distance, so that instead of the rod being two rooftops away, the adventurer’s etching thought it was only a few paces distant.

That was an invitation it couldn’t refuse, and the lightning bolt suddenly arched away from Tibs and struck the rod.

“Adventurers?” he yelled, then laughed. “Has the Night Runner been so successful, the king doesn’t trust her guards to catch me? Consider myself properly honored!”

“What you will be,” the other adventurer yelled back, “is without a hand!”

“Without both,” her companion added. “After we turn you over to the guards.”

He picked up speed, with a little help from Air. He couldn’t go so fast the adventurers noticed, but he needed enough distance between them by the time he reached the end of roofs if he wanted this to work.

When he skidded to a stop, it was as if the guards and adventurers had distracted him enough he’d missed the end of the roofs and the long drop to the foamy and rocky waters below. He spun, a clear intent to take up the run again, but his pursuers were three and zero paces aways, and the adventurers had moved away on each side of the guard to block any escape.

The hood remained in place as he looked for another escape, even with the rapid head motion. It, and the shadows that clung to its insides, only gave hints as to the shape of his bearded face, and made the darker tone of his skin unseeable.

“There’s no where for you to run to,” the guard panted, “thief.”

“Now, now,” he replied, his tone a theatrical level of offended. “The Night Runner is no mere thief. He is a master of the craft. You will not see the Night Runner wander the markets, picking pockets. He will only go against—Now, now,” he protested as lightning danced on the adventurer’s fingers. “Is there really a need for this? Can we not come to an arrangement?”

Tibs would be more offended at the lack of seriousness in the adventurers’s effort, if he hadn’t gone out of his way to ensure they thought he was nothing more than an ordinary, of expert, thief. Every such role he’d played had that in common.

“The only arrangement that will satisfy the king,” the guard stated, having regained her breath, “is you in a cell.”

“After we’ve collected the bounty,” the earth adventurer said.

So coins were why they were here.

“Well, then.” He smiled. “If money is what drives you. The Night Runner can more than accommodate you.” The smile turned wicked. “After all, it has taken a long time before the king’s guard could keep me from the coffer of my choosing. The Night Runner can make your purses heavier than any bounty.”

“Don’t even—” the guard started, turning to the lightning adventurer as he stepped forward, arm outstretched.

The essence coursing over and between the fingers didn’t shift, but the gesture, and lightning dancing over them, formed enough of a threat Tibs used it to excuse his step back, raising his hands in fear. Before he could voice the expected protest, his foot came down on nothing, and the gesture taking his hands up turned into a pin-wheel that had no hopes of keeping him from falling back.

He screamed.

Both adventurers were moving as he lost sight of them, so he needed to hurry. He kept yelling as he fell past openings into the wall of buildings that melded into the cliff face; past ledges used for repairs, or left over from when they were built.

He tapered his yell as he sent air to catch the rope he’d set in place nights before, and bring it to him. He softened the yell to nothing as he caught it, wrapping his hand and arm with earth for the tight grasp needed, and as protection against the—

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The rope jerked him as it went taut, then jerked again as the added weight dislodged something. Then the breath was knocked out of him by the impact against the wall. He grabbed onto it, using earth to secure himself in place as a form dressed in black clothing and cloak fell past him.

He wrapped the etching of darkness around him to better blend in with the light shadows, then etched air so it would bring him this pursuer’s words to confirm this had worked.

“Couldn’t you catch him?” the earth adventurer demanded.

“And kill him with my lightning whip?” her companion replied. “Why didn’t you lock him in place, like you did with that assassin. It’s not like there’s a lack of stone up here.”

“That worked.” She bit the words. “Because he wasn’t moving until the etching took hold. It’s not a fast etching, unlike your lightning.”

He made out a head, peering over the side. “At least he won’t be causing trouble anymore.” The guard sighed. “That will please her majesty.”

“But it’s not getting us our bounty,” the earth adventurer said. “The nobles aren’t paying us without a body to prove we did the job. I should throw you off the edge so you can get it, for what you pulled.”

“How was I supposed to know he’d be so easily scared? He’s been giving the guards the runaround for months. Fought half a dozen of them at a time at least once. And they were fully armed and armored.”

“You had lightning crackling. You know that always scares them.”

“How about you jump down and get it, then? You aren’t going to be hurt if you turn to stone, right? It’s going to be faster than me running down and getting a boat. And you’re just on top of it, so it’s going to be easy.”

“I doubt that,” the guard said. “The currents against the wall are strong and wild. By now, the body’s probably halfway to the sea.”

The earth adventurer groaned. “We’re going to need a boat.”

The guard chuckled. “Good luck finding anyone willing to brave these waters.” She vanished from sight. “But that’s not my problem. Once you’ve filled the witness report, you can look for it however you want. Just don’t disturb the city’s peace in the process.”

Tibs sensed them moving away.

“This is your fault,” the earth adventurer repeated.

“You’re always blaming…” the rest faded as he let the etching unravel.

It had worked.

He’d been concerned when he found out about the pair of adventurers. It didn’t matter what element each had. With proper training, any element could do what another did. With enough skill, an adventurer could sense essence work, even if it wasn’t their element. If either had been more skilled, they would have realized he wasn’t an ordinary thief.

And adventurers didn’t automatically dismiss what they didn’t understand, the way the guards tended to, so they might have realized something was unusual if they’d bothered talking with anyone who had witnessed those fights they had referred to.

Still, his part of the plan had worked.

He lowered himself to reach the opening in the wall. The window wasn’t barred, or even covered with planks. The thief who tried getting into the storeroom from it had more chances of falling to their death.

He confirmed the room was empty, then slipped among the barrels and crates. By the sense of them, they contained alcohols. Because of how secured the rooms were, merchants stored the wares in them while waiting for the ships that would take them to lands beyond the sea; beyond the ocean, even.

He would see those lands; one day.

Once he could use the transportation platforms.

He was never handing his life over to a pile of wood and pitch that shattered at the first high wave of a storm.

He shuddered at the memory as he undressed.

He hadn’t been at risk, but so many had died. He tried to save them, to hold back all that water, to calm the storm, but there had been too much water essence, too much air essence. What he didn’t control overwhelmed the comparative little he did.

He never wanted to experience such a thing again.

He was older, he’d told himself, the last time he booked passage on a ship. More experienced, skilled. He’d regained a great deal of the strength that had been taken from him, back in Kragle Rock, in the decade and some more years since that ship and storm. He didn’t have to fear that unending water. Those skies that stretched until the two met.

He’d paid passage, but hadn’t set foot on that ship.

He never did.

He pulled the wrapped bundle from behind the crate and dressed himself in the clothes it contained. A green doublet with darker pants and a muted red overcoat. They were well worn, as was appropriate for those of the city who earned their coins through hard work.

The time of the Night Runner was done with. For today and ever.

He’d planned for this day to happen a week before. The nobles’ bounty, and the arrival of the adventurers had meant the Night Runner was now too infamous. As with the numerous other roles he’d played throughout cities, to distract the guards as he went on with his real work, the Night Runner had needed to die.

But a bragging noble had changed his mind. Tibs could let much pass, even when it came to nobles. But this…. This had needed seen to. And if the others had played their parts, it had. All that was left was for him to confirm it, and he’d leave everything this city had come to mean to him over the last year.

An etching of fire, and the cloak and black clothing vanished with a flash of light and the smell of burned fabric that air pushed outside. Another burst of air scattered the ashes over the floor, mixing it with the dirt.

He sensed no one was nearby, then exited the storeroom, leaving no evidence he’d been there behind.

* * * * *

This part of the city was quieter, a reason he used the inn still further, as the place he had meetings with his associates. Most folks here worked hard, so during the day, there was hardly anyone along the narrow streets and alleys. It made spotting a tail easier, and with two adventurers on the Night Runner’s trail, he didn’t take for granted that they believed he was dead, even after witnessing his fall.

It made the man and boy stand out when he turned into the street they were on. The boy sobbing, the man with an angry demeanor. Tibs remained aware of them, since he knew anyone could put on an act as a distraction, but otherwise didn’t expect anything from them.

The hand went up and down. The motion only registered after the sound, and the boy landing on the ground.

“What kind of good-for-nothing son are you?” the man demanded, grabbing the boy and raising his hand again.

Tibs was next to him, shoving him away, while grabbing the boy and letting him down gently.

That was enough, he told himself, keeping his anger in check. He’d given the man time to realize what he’d done, he would—

“Who the fuck are you?” the man demanded, pushing to his feet. “Get away from my son. The good for nothing….” The hand was up already as the man approached.

He fell back, his cheek cut from Tibs’s punch. “How dare you,” he growled. “He’s just a boy.”

“He’s not good for anything other than my fist.”

Tibs helped the man to his feet. “He’s your son!” He shoved him against the wall hard enough the man staggered. “You should protect him!” He punched him. “That’s what parents do!” He grabbed and shoved him against the wall again. “Do you have any idea what it’s like not having that? Being alone? Do you want that for your son?” He lost count of the punches he threw. Of the man’s fading pleas.

The kick at his shin barely registered, but was enough to snap him out, as was the accompanying threat.

“Let my daddy go, you monster!”

Tibs stared at the boy, who ineffectively kicked his shin again. “I’m protecting you.” The words had a hollowness to them, incomprehension.

The anger, when the boy looked up at him, was familiar. “You’re a monster! I want you to die!”

“But….” He looked at the man he was holding. The face, barely recognizable as that of a person.

He almost threw the man away in disgust. The need to remove the evidence of his anger so strong he almost didn’t care what other damage he caused. He let the man go and backed away, and the boy took position between them, fist closed, eyes angry and fierce.

“If you come closer, I’m going to kill you.”

Tibs tried and failed to find words to explain himself. To the boy or to him.

It had been a while since he’d lost his temper like this, and to do it over a father beating his son…. No, even that wasn’t acceptable.

He remembered the laughter of the guards, Mama’s cooling body. His burning hatred of the men who had taken her from him.

Unlike previous times, he didn’t stoke the anger the memory brought forth. He tried to push it away.

That man hadn’t deserved this.

Tibs formed an etching of purity and sent it to the man, then one to the boy as well. Maybe they’d see this as the elements showing them favor and they’d learn from it.

Tibs walked away.

All he wanted was to forget how he’d been ready to kill someone just for raising a hand against his son.