Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

of bodies behind us.”
    “We just need to keep going,” he said. “It doesn’t matter where.”
    “Why not?” she asked.
    “Because my father’s eyes are in all places. Once we’re seen, he’ll come for us.”
    Kayla smirked.
    “I don’t care who your father is, Haern, he’s not the Reaper. The night is deep, the soldiers are about, and if we’re to see the dawn we’ll need to hide.”
    Haern looked upset at her dismissal of his father, but he refused to argue the point.
    Kayla scanned the houses she passed, hoping to recognize one. Considering how she prided herself on having information, she realized just how little she knew her surroundings. She was friends with the scum of the streets, but the eastern district was home to the rich and influential. She might know her way around, and be able to list many names useful for blackmail, but not one person she could count as a friend. In all of Veldaren, this was most definitely farthest from home.
    “Wait,” Haern said as they passed by a wide mansion surrounded by a thick fence. Its bars were made of dark iron, their spiked tops over ten feet above the ground. Behind them, oak trees with interlocking branches surrounded the building, giving privacy to the mansion with their beauty.
    Haern pointed. “We can hide here.”
    It took a moment for Kayla to realize where they were, but when she did her eyes widened.
    “Are you daft, boy? This is Keenan’s estate.”
    “Exactly,” Haern said, a bit of a smile curling his lips. “The one place no one would dare look for us.”
    The reasoning was sound, but looking at those enchanted bars, she was baffled as to how they would cross them.
    “Follow me,” Haern said. Instead of climbing the bars, though, he turned and shimmied up the wall of a much more modest dwelling on the opposite side of the road. He clearly favored his right leg, bracing his weight on the left as often as he could. It seemed there was no way up, but his feet and hands found crevices, windowsills, and indents in the plaster. He made it seem so easy, as if a pathway were there, waiting hidden just for him.
    Kayla knew she was good at climbing, but she doubted her ability to follow. Not that she had a choice, given the constant shouts of guards hunting after them. Trying not to think about it, and therefore worry, she began climbing in a reckless rush. She made it halfway up before her foot slipped. The windowsill cracked and broke. Her hands flailing wildly, she grabbed the first thing she could: Haern’s wounded leg. The boy hung from the roof by his hands, and though his grip seemed like iron, she could hear his grunts of pain. She swung her foot farther to the side, onto what remained of the windowsill. When she let go of his leg, she heard him exhale slowly, as if he fought to control his pain. A moment later he was atop the roof and gone from her sight.
    The rest of the way up was easy, and when she got there she found Haern lying on his back, tears running down the sides of his face.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “We can hide here, surely the guards won’t see…”
    “They will,” Haern said. “They can see us from the street. Even if it takes all night, they’ll find us.”
    Kayla sighed. He was right, of course. The roof was not perfectly flat, but instead sharply angled, with triangles rising up to make a space for windows. If they hunkered down they might go unnoticed for a while, but any searching eyes would eventually spot them. Slowly Haern shifted all his weight to his left leg and tried to stand. Kayla gently put her hands underneath his elbows and helped him.
    “I’ll scream when I jump,” he said. “Ignore it. I’ll be fine.”
    And then he was off, showing no sign of his injury. The roof, while angled, was still wide and offered plenty of room for a running start. In between the spikes of the gate were thick strips of the dark iron, and it was for them he dove like a swan. With both hands he latched on, and when his body swung downward, he kicked off the bars with his good leg. Feet in the air, he vaulted over the spikes and landed on the smooth carpet of grass on the other side.
    Kayla felt her lips tremble at the display. Perhaps it would be better to remain on the rooftop, hoping the guards would miss her. They weren’t searching for her, after all, just the strange, incredibly trained teenage boy who fought like an assassin. She couldn’t possibly mimic his act, could she?
    She made her decision.