The Loyal

16- The Stolen Gold

Dain ran through the streets, ignoring any angry cries from the people he pushed over. He couldn't stop, not if they were about to catch him. Dain pushed his legs down, feeling every breath scraping against his throat. The boy was burdened with the contraband, but it was expectantly light, as paper usually is.

He leaped onto a low barrel, using his sore legs to propel him. Then, from there, Dain hastily climbed onto a wagon, then onto a covered caravan, knowing even the slightest mistake would ruin everything. By now, the townsfolk were all pointing him out, brandishing random objects that had fallen from their arms.

The town guards cursed when they reached Dain's high path. It payed off. The guards were weighed down with their bronze armour and shields and would probably break through the canvas over the caravan. Dain waved down at them from the rooftops.

"Sorry, but I need it," then he lightly sprinted around the chimneys and signs built from the roofs.

This by far the strangest thing Dain had done while trying to free his people. And probably would have refused to do it a week ago. Not many boys his age successfully stole lettered from the cruellest man in haven. Not many at all.

Dain slowed his pace down considerably and continued walking over the poorly covered roofs of the large town of Irroar. By now, most of the townsfolk had already forgotten him and continued on their daily chores.

He, Sirath and Ixrith were camped just outside Irroar, which was a town famous for it's black-market and traded constantly with Starhaven. Dain heard from a peasant girl that their leader received letters directly from the lord Scias about problems that needed resolving.

Dain stole them in hope to find out what Scias was planning so they could remain one step ahead. The other two didn't know he was doing this but would be glad when he told them about it. But first, he had to escape the town, preferably without giving away their location. 

Nervously, Dain leaped across the space between two houses. Today he was feeling extremely practical and energetic, quite in compassion to yesterday when he felt as if everything was pointless. 

A woman leaned out from her window and stared up at Dain. She had a nervous, obviously afraid Dain was a robber. In a sense, he was. He had just stolen from a rich man. He waved at her, sharing his polite smile. The woman blushed and gave a tiny wave before vanishing back into her apartment room.    

Dain watched down onto the streets, keeping his eyes open and aware to the guards and if they were still pursuing him. Seeing nothing, Dain clambered down by a ladder conveniently placed by the wall. He found himself in a quiet garden with a cobbled stone path and a marble bird bath positioned in the centre.

By spending his entire life in prison, Dain had never seen such a flower pot in a window, much less even a garden. He took a deep breath, taking in the sights and sounds before trying to figure out where he was exactly. He stuffed the letters and maps he stole into his tunic before discarding the leather bag they were found in. 

He pulled his tired body over a fence and found himself in an unknown neighbourhood. Both sides were bordered with the backs of shops and houses with shattered windows and washing lines. There were several rubbish crates and food boxed in decaying squares. Dain stood for a minute, contemplating what in his mind map had gone wrong. Did he miss a turn or go too far?

A strange feeling told Dain to go left, and so he did, by now, Dain knew to believe his feelings. He quietly pressed one foot down ahead of the other, trying hard not to make any sounds. If anyone met him down this alley, they were more likely to steal everything than direct him to the nearest map.