Displaced

Chapter 38

Every city in existence possesses its own unique architectural quirks, and Nefin was no exception. The unusually large windows, designed to invite in the ocean winds in order to combat the city's notoriously sweltering summers, were one salient example. The basketball-sized statues placed on every corner of every roof were another. Known as 'svanta', they were apparently part of an old superstition from long ago. For the people of Nefin, they were guardians of a sort, placed on the outermost perimeter of every house to ward against evil. For Hector Miranda, they were stepping stones.

He'd asked one of his lays about the statues once, as even the most oblivious person would be hard pressed to miss their omnipresence. She'd babbled on and on about spirits and gods and fire from the skies or something; he'd zoned out once it had become clear that her answer was longer than a few sentences. Whatever the reason for their existence, he appreciated their presence in the moment. The roofs of Nefin tended to be heavily sloped, and running horizontally on a steep slope sucked. You couldn't push off properly and all it took was one bad shingle for you to slip and fall. Luckily for him, there were these convenient stone statues for him to use instead.

Each svanta was unique, hand carved by some Nefin sculptors who designed them to stand up to the wind and rain that came from the sea just kilometers north of the city. What the sculptors didn't design for was the weight of a muscular superhuman carrying a second man, and the crushing force said superhuman generated when pushing off. Some svanta shifted on their base, others cracked, and many crumbled into pieces as Hector used them as launching pads. Not that the trail of destruction left in his wake bothered the twenty-five year old former athlete. He had somewhere to be, and this seemed like the fastest and most direct way of getting there.

His judgment was almost immediately called into question. Leaping over one of the city's widest boulevards, the svanta beneath him crumbled as he leapt, reducing the force of his jump just slightly. As he sailed over the crowded street below, it became clear to Hector that he would fall short of his targeted roof and instead fly smack into the wall below.

Thinking quickly, Hector realized that the wall rushing at him was made of wood, not stone like his inn. Having spent so much of his time in the richest sections of the city, he'd forgotten that wood was actually the main building material for the majority of the structures in Nefin, as the mages, or 'Observers' as the locals called them, that specialized in building with stone charged exorbitant prices for their work. Hector liked to avoid poorer areas as much as possible. He was a big shot now, and slumming it with the peasantry wasn't something an elite like him had time for. This time, however, he was glad to see the rough brown wood approaching, because it meant he had a way to salvage his leap.

Gripping his polearm tightly in his left hand, he drew his left arm back and then thrust it forward just as the wall was about four meters away. The large weapon, an extra long and durable variant designed to hold up to the rigors of Feeler combat, shot out, the massive blade plunging deep into the wooden wall, effectively turning into a flagpole sticking out from the surface. Keeping his strong grip on the shaft so that his hands wouldn't move, Hector let his momentum swing himself around ninety degrees so that he was now perpendicular to the wall. He slamming into the side of the building feet first, his strong legs absorbing the momentum enough to prevent injury. The wooden wall flexed and shook from the heavy impact of his body, but thankfully held.

The momentum now dissipated, Hector fell from the wall and hung two stories in the air, his grip on the polearm and its purchase in the wall the only things keeping him from plummeting into the chaos below. And chaos it was. The boulevard was filled with panicking Gustilians running towards the richer inner section of the city, their most prized possessions in their hands. This was the main reason that he'd chosen to stick to the rooftops — the streets were a frothing sea of fearful families and paranoid merchants all desperate to escape. Getting to the wall, where the crash of the gong continued even now, would take forever if he tried it down there.