Chapter 9: Chapter 6 Hardcore Parkour

“Third Boss, the heat has staked out your crib. I can mark them for you but you’ll have to be careful not to be seen. Me and the Rat Pack have a distraction ready, you just have to give us the signal,” Eryndor earnestly informed him. The Rat Pack unanimously nodded to back his decision.

Lyzander nodded in appreciation and solemnly followed Eryndor to the street corner. Kneeling down in the muck, Lyzander ignored the filth marring his ceremonial trousers. He needed to get as good a look as possible at where each guardsman hid to have the best odds of escaping detection. 

Eryndor waited until he was ready and then pointed out each watchman in turn, three in total. The pair simultaneously drew back and then Lyzander turned to face him.

“Thanks for you and the Rat Pack’s help tonight. I never expected aid from anyone the way the rest of the city treats me,” Lyzander honestly spoke to the Rat Pack with a heartfelt tone.

“Even your own stinking mother. That was all the push we needed, you’re truly one of the Rat Pack. Not one of us has families that want us, we’re our own family now,” Rook snarled, the look of personal rage on her face mirrored by the other youths in the circle. “Anyone that messes with the Rat Pack is gonna regret it.”

There were words and nods of agreement. Lyzander stepped forward and placed a hand on Eryndor’s shoulder before speaking.

“I owe you guys big time. I have no idea how I’m going to repay this debt with the whole of Hazelhaven after me. But I will to each and every one of you guys, I promise,” Lyzander promised, he took his hand away and turned to survey the nearest row of buildings.

It’s a bit harder at night but with a little more effort, I can still see the optimal path I should take. I just have to stay aware of those guards outside my house. I think the best route to take would be right over their heads. I remember that I left my washing out on the line crossing the street. 

I wonder if the Fortification spell I cast last winter has enough juice left to support my weight. Well, there’s only one way for me to find out.

Lyzander squinted his eyes to peer into the darkness, geometric equations and triangulations visible only to him dynamically changed with the subtle movement of the unstable structures. The row of terrace houses were all of mismatched sizes with many nooks and crannies to be used as handholds and hiding places.

Cast by the light of the three moons overhead, shadows intersected to create a latticework of mirages that interfered with his innate calculations. He tisked in annoyance with a slight shake of his head, unexpectedly lurching forward at a sprint. The Rat Pack gathered around to watch the show, Eryndor standing at the head to observe with his arms crossed.

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He silently crossed the distance within moments, the shifting calculations and trajectories settling of a fixed number as he got closer. He readjusted his path to leap at the entryway of an alley, bracing his foot against the wall and launching himself at the opposing one. A dazed Insipid-dealer slowly gazed up in delirium as he flew overhead, catching an outcropping. 

Hooking his hand over a jutting beam, he swung his feet high and released his grip. Arching his back midair to propel himself forward. He followed an invisible guideline that bounced between both walls and over obstacles to the lip of the roof above. He unerringly caught a broken handhold in the wall with both hands and feet close, immediately redirecting his weight to throw himself upward. 

He reversed his grip on the wooden tiles to face the opposite wall and folded his feet up to roll onto the roof. He heard soft whistles of appreciation from the Rat Pack watching below. The only one that could compete with him in agility was Eryndor. The natural traits of his Beastfolk claws gave him the edge needed to bridge the gap in advantage Lyzander’s calculations gave him.

Lyzander looked back at them in a crouch and gave them a wave of acknowledgement before creeping away from the edge. He briefly surveyed the uneven sloped rooftops, identifying rooftop alcoves, jutting attic windows, chimneys, and mismatched heights of the buildings.

After a brief appraisal, Lyzander rocketed forward. The rapidly moving calculations at the extreme edge of his sight combined together to form the line guiding his path. It would automatically adjust as he detected loose, broken or missing tiles on the rooftop.

He quickly approached the first wall obstructing his path. Without slowing, he braced two hands against the opening of a chimney chute and leapfrogged over top of a large collapsed portion of the roof. He hadn’t initially seen the hole and only reacted to the new prompt from his guideline at the last moment. 

Lyzander gracefully soared over the opening, disturbing a flock of pigeons roosting in the sheltered rafters. His moonlit silhouette was framed by birds scattered into the sky. He shielded his face from the frantic beating of flapping wings. His guideline disappeared to be replaced with erratic calculations as birds obscured his vision. 

The world seemed to slow down, the sound of the cooing pigeons fading away, the sound of his steady breathing filling his ears only to be replaced with the drumming of his heartbeat. He closed his eyes in faith, his racing heartbeat slowing until he was left with only silence. 

In the absolute darkness of his mind, the erratic calculations remained suspended in time. Peering behind the chaos, he rediscovered the line guiding his path. Throwing his eyes open, the world returned to madness but he subtly adjusted his landing position in mid-flight.

Bursting free of the mass of swarming pigeons in a tight ball to protect his body amid a shower of feathers, he landed on the other side. Using the momentum, he came up with an agile roll to his feet, immediately transitioning into a leap to catch the edge of the wall. Portions of the suspended rooftop crumbled behind him.

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