Divided Lands

Chapter 11

The clear, cloudless sky was a thing of the past. The storm that had threatened to come flailing across the sky early that morning finally managed to make its way to Highland City even if it was a few hours late. The night was so cloudy that the moon wasn't even visible beyond the thick layer of storm clouds. By the time the first drop fell Jon could barely see Nalza shivering just a foot away from him.

"You cold?" he asked. The rain began pittering and pattering on the canopy of leaves above their heads.

"N-no." Nalza stuttered through clenched, chattering teeth. 

"Here." Jon said. He removed his cloak, draped it over Nalza's shoulders, and put the hood over his head. "We can't risk anyone seeing your face, anyway. Or those pointy ears."

The shadowy city gates stood behind a veil of cold, hard rain. The small army led them back to Highland City in less than an hour, but they had stood waiting under the trees all evening waiting for night to fall.

"I don't know why we couldn't just go in after the soldiers. No one would have noticed us." Nalza grumbled.

"Of course they would have. How often do two normal-clothed gents just walk around with about a hundred armored soldiers? Besides, I do my best work at night." Jon shrugged. "It looks like the streets are pretty clear. Let's go."

"Ugh. F-f-finally." Nalza shuddered. Damn, it was cold as hell to be so late in spring. 

Jon darted out from under the cover of the last row of trees in the forest, and Nalza followed after him, his breaths coming out in gasps as he tried to keep up with his much faster, much more limber companion.

Jon stopped just short of the tightly closed and also most likely locked gate and waited with crossed arms for Nalza to catch up.

"You're going to have to keep up with me, you know. You're a Dust Elf. You get lost in here and you're as good as dead." Jon hissed.

"I know, I know." Nalza sighed. “This stupid cloak of yours gets heavy when it’s wet.” He wiped an entire layer of water from his forehead and broke out into another round of tremors.

Jon turned to the half rusted iron city gates, his mind occupied with things other than the freezing cold and the torrent of rain pelting down on their heads. He thought for a while, his hands on his hips and his weight shifting impatiently from one foot to the other, until he whipped around in one swift motion with the frightening look on his face that screamed, I have an idea!

“Hop on my back.” He said.

“…what?” Nalza tilted his head. “Why?”

Jon rolled his eyes and, being in quite the hurry and not in the mood to get any further drenched, grabbed Nalza by the wrists and hoisted him onto his shoulders himself. “Because I don’t think you can make this jump.”

He sprang nearly halfway up the gate without another word and latched onto the bars with both hands, gripping them until his knuckles were white. He climbed to the very top as best he could, what with Nalza gripping his neck as if it was made of iron as well, and jumped down to the other side. Jon landed in a perfect crouching position with both feet on the ground, like some sort of crazy half-cat.

Nalza, however, rolled off and flat onto his back. He landed in the mud with a splash, his wide eyes fixed on the sky.

“Okay, what now?” Jon asked. He yanked him up by the arm.

“Y-you mean you d-d-don’t know?” Nalza chattered. 

“I was sort of talking to myself, but feel free to give whatever input you see necessary.” Jon said. He dragged Nalza over to the edge of the street underneath a store’s awning. “Hmm…it’s a bit late, isn’t it?”