Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

a storm.
    “They’ve set off the fires?” he wondered aloud. “Well damn it, those stupid cowards. Some of the Serpents must have panicked. We need out, now!”
    He pressed his hood over his mouth, then winked at Haern when he saw the boy’s mask.
    “Almost like you came prepared,” he said, chuckling.
    Two Serpents came running out the door when they neared. Haern cut down one, Senke the other. Smoke poured in through the open door, and down the hallway they both saw the fires rapidly spreading.
    “We can’t make it,” Haern shouted. Senke knelt and pointed so they could see underneath the smoke.
    “You see where the hallway turns?” he asked. “Immediately on your left is a door. It leads up to the attic, and from there we can find a way to safety.”
    He wiped sweat from his brow as he looked to the fires.
    “Relative safety,” he corrected.
    “Let me go first,” Haern said. “I’m faster. If the door is blocked by flame, I’ll come running.”
    Senke started to object, but Haern was already dashing down the hall.
    The smoke gathered along the ceiling in giant rolling clouds. In each doorway he passed, the fires roared, licking the outsides of their doors, looking like tongues eager to taste more of the building. His eyes stung looking at them. The hallway was unbelievably hot. He wrapped his cloak over his mouth, his mask doing little to keep out the foul air. Cough after cough racked his body. Soon he lost his vision as his eyes watered.
    Haern couldn’t believe the heat. It didn’t seem to matter that his skin touched no fire. The floor warmed his feet. The air sucked at the moisture of his skin, and he felt like a pastry stuck in an oven. He remembered his training, clutched it with all his mind, and forced himself to keep running. Air didn’t matter. The heat didn’t matter. One foot after the other.
    His outstretched hand pressed against the end of the hallway. Feeling a bit of hope, he turned and kept his hand near, occasionally brushing the wall with his fingertips. When he touched a door, he felt like shouting for joy. His fingers found the doorknob, and yet again he wanted to cheer. The doorknob, while not cool, didn’t burn to the touch. He flung it open and dashed up the stairs, wishing he could somehow alert Senke to follow. Smoke climbed up with him, and wishing there were another way, he slammed the door shut behind.
    The attic was dim, but the few windows let in enough light for him to see. Most were small, but near the back he saw a giant circle of glass that seemed most inviting. Haern could almost imagine the cool air rushing on the outside of it, and he wanted to dive in as if it were water. Piles of discarded armor, old relics of family generations long past, filled the room. Haern weaved about them, all the while wondering when Senke would arrive.
    He was halfway to the window when it shattered. A slender woman flew through the shards, landing with a roll along the floor. Haern stared, vaguely recognizing her. She wore the colors of the Ash Guild, but he couldn’t place her. She looked about, still struggling to adjust to the darkness. He thought to hide from her, but then he saw her face and knew her name.
    “Veliana?” he asked, remembering standing at his father’s side as they tried to force her to overthrow her guildmaster and take control.
    At the sound of her name the woman spun, her dagger already drawn.
    “You’re young to be one of the thieves,” Veliana said. “What is your name?”
    “Haern,” he answered. He took a step toward her, still trying to decide if she was dangerous or not. With everyone trying to flee the mansion, it seemed odd someone would try to break in.
    Veliana looked a bit disappointed, but then she spotted him standing behind a large crate of wrapped wool. Her whole body tensed. Her mouth curled into a sneer.
    “Liar,” she said. “You’re Thren’s child. You think I’d forget a single shred of that moment?”
    Haern shook his head.
    “Aaron is dead. Leave me be. His sins are mine no more.”
    Veliana laughed.
    “The world doesn’t work that way. Change your name, change your face, but the sins are still yours. Your father’s killed everyone I’ve ever cared for. Turn back and die in the fire, or draw your dagger and fight me.”
    Haern glanced back to the door to the stairs. Smoke had begun pouring thickly through its edges and the crack underneath. Already the heat seeped through the wood floor. Still no sign of