> ...perhaps the most dangerous feature of the Night-runner menace is their transgressive, implicit endorsement of class mixing! In their ‘community’ all members maintain anonymity, and are encouraged to support each other in their nocturnal efforts with no regard for status or any established hierarchy beyond merit! Perhaps even worse is their encouragement of diverse carding, for which the negative economic ramifications are incalculable!

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> Excerpt from “The Night-runners: A Dangerous Menace to our Streets, or Something Even Worse?” by Indig Thrush, opinion columnist, alarmist.

Soon they arrived at the site of the contentious jump. They stood atop the steeply sloped peaked roof of a warehouse. The most reliable footing came from the crowning tiles and they only extended a hand-span in width.

The foundation extended up to the top edge of an embankment, girded by great stone blocks against erosion. The only possible destination was dauntingly far, a tower rooted at the bottom of the slope, its closest edge was still higher than the roof they stood on. A long drop awaited any who failed the leap between the two buildings.

“What did I tell ya? It’s no jump for a baseline. He got some fancy card, let him add a little kick ya? Float up all quiet and act like it’s nuthin’.” Dart said, not so much to anyone in particular, but to test whether she could get away with it now that doubt was present in the others.

She was roundly ignored by all, Racket only managing his silence with Gravel’s tempering hand on his shoulder.

“Well Canary, what do you think?” Gravel called.

Jack considered for a time. The jump looked difficult; the peaked roof meant there was no easy footing leading into the jump. The extra height meant a catch by your hands—slamming into the wall at full speed while scrabbling to keep a grip and not bounce off, dazed.

Jack had managed jumps like it before, but only at ground level, and only then with a partial success rate. Failure here wouldn’t be as forgiving, the fall was easily twenty meters, likely higher.

“I could do it, maybe four times in five if I could practice it without knocking myself silly each time.” Jack answered, suspecting he was even being generous with the success rate, but not wanting to point too harsh a finger at Racket. Dart’s antagonizing was rubbing him the wrong way; new routes needed to be evaluated impartially, not with back-biting and bullying.

Racket was nervously shifting from foot to foot, holding his tongue by his sheer and rapidly fraying will.

Gravel hummed and considered, eventually turning to Slip. Racket exhaled slowly through his teeth as he was passed over again.

“Could you catch him Slip? If he hits the wall and falls as dead weight?” Gravel posed the question, sparing not even a glance for poor Racket.

“Yeah, I could do it. I’d burn a daily-use, keeping him from hitting anything vital. If he’s awake I have five guaranteed rescues, but he’d have to be ready for the save. Past that limit there’s more uncertainty, and I won’t allow it for a jump like this.” She replied immediately, already sure of her limits.

Gravel nodded, taking a moment to consider. A low keening emanated from Racket as the moment stretched on. Slip’s judgment of safety for a tester was paramount. Not only would any efforts be nearly suicidal without her, her approval was necessary for any attempts to even be made. Going against a respected Spotter’s word on a new route was asking for trouble.

“On the word of Slip and Canary, the risk is too high at my estimation. Even if it was passed by Canary tonight, we’d soon see blood if it became open to runners without safeties in place.” Gravel pronounced “Unless, perhaps Racket has something to add?”

Released from the torture of imposed silence, Racket delivered his contribution. “Wind ya duffers! Wind! It lifts ya up, nice an’ gentle like a mother tuckin’ her sweet babe. No knocking silly for our precious bird! Would nevah think to risk his sweet face, clever lad shouldnah hit his head, I know that!” He indicated the alleyway below, gesticulating wildly as he struggled against the tyranny of language. “The gentle breeze comes up the slope yeah? But it needs to squa-eeze intah the gap, but look on!” He pointed down the alley, which dead-ended only a little further along. “It’s got no passage! So up it goes! To lift up poor Racket and birdboy.”

He fell silent, breathing hard. “This wouldnah be so hard if ya all didnah talk so strange.” He added with a sigh.

“Ya may be a right fool, but I can agree with that a’ least.” Dart said.

The other four kept a careful silence in response to the rare show of solidarity between the two.

As the consensus shifted towards considering it a viable leap, Jack felt anticipation begin to stir in himself.

Mouse approached the edge of the peak and reached a hand out over the precipice. “How do you know when a gust is coming?” They interjected. “It’s still right now. He can’t make the jump on this.”

“Ah that’s the clever tricky: ya just watch for the shakin’ of the leaves on the tree down yon, and ya run as soon as ya seen ‘em quiver. It gives exact time for ya make the leap, afore the wind dies.” Racket said, pointing proudly to a patch of impenetrable darkness, shadowed by the high buildings around it.

All eyes went to the looming gloom, and futilely strained to pierce it.

“Racket... Did you make this jump in the daylight?” Jack asked as Racket’s hand slowly dipped.

Dart crowed in delight at the turn against Racket. “It were! It were day when ya made the leap! Ya are the duffer! Nah I! Haa!”

Gravel and Slip drew close to confer, and Dart stalked towards Racket with a predatory stance.

Jack joined Mouse at the lip of the rooftop. They were looking out into the black. Jack, knowing their way, fell into a familiar rhythm with them.

“With a fuller moon, directly overheard, you could probably see well enough.” Jack said.

“Not worth much, a route you can only use with a clear sky, half the month, for a quarter of the night.” Mouse whispered. “If you could set a light down there...”

Jack remained silent. They both knew that such an approach wasn’t practical, but Mouse needed to talk through the problem. Interrupting would only throw them off of their approach. Jack knew how others could talk over Mouse, pushing aside their ideas less out of malice than thoughtlessness. But he had seen how when they were allowed arrive at their conclusion in their own time, they would find answers no one else could.

“We care about the wind. We don’t need to see it. How often do you think about seeing the wind? That’s not what wind’s about.” Mouse continued.

“How else can we tell when the wind is coming?” Jack replied, already feeling his excitement return, but wanting to leave the prize to Mouse.

“We can hear it.”

“It’s a soft breeze, quiet before it’s concentrated.” Jack countered perfunctorily, knowing they were already tracking an answer.

“So we make it louder.”

Mouse produced a short-bladed knife from their person and began to lever shingles out from the roof. The knife was followed by a length of line and a clacking wind-chime through clever knots was rapidly pulled together from there with Jack’s help.

Jack gave the contraption an admiring look, as much as it was the haphazard creation of a few minutes, the shingles had been ingeniously positioned to catch the wind and clatter against each other.

Mouse gently waved the assemblage only to have a muted sound emanate. An energetic shake still only produced a quite muffled rattle and Mouse made a soft tchh sound in frustration that froze Jack’s heart for a moment. Where had he heard that before?

“Gravel, over here.” Mouse called curtly, lacking their usual self-consciousness as their focus overwhelmed their shyness.

By now the others had already halted their respective conversations or teasings to observe the commotion Mouse was making, and so Gravel was quickly at hand.

“Can you enhance these to be louder when they strike? Enough so we can hear them from there?” Mouse asked, pointing to Racket’s shrouded tree.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Gravel picked up the haphazard work and looked at it quizzically.

“Aye, I have a card that can handle it. We can get a more permanent solution another night if this works.” Then, his voice taking on a distinctly pointed tone, “and we can replace those shingles you’ve so eagerly removed as well.”

Mouse shrunk from her proud stance at the admonishment, and Jack felt a small swell of irritation. Mouse could well have brought the idea to the group and found an alternative, but that would also have made the venture less their own.

Damage to rooftops wasn’t uncommon on night-running outings, and was always carefully noted for repair. Gravel was right that intentional damage was a different beast, but Mouse was overshadowed enough that it bothered Jack to have an ultimately petty reason undercut them.

While Gravel crouched over the chime and performed some alteration to its structural nature, Jack went close to Mouse, who stiffened as he leaned close to their ear. “Perhaps we should have looked for a shingle tree?” He whispered softly.

The squeaked giggle that came from Mouse seemed to surprise them more than Jack—stifled immediately and unconvincingly transitioned into a cough.

Jack hurriedly straightened as he shared their embarrassment. But his gambit played out as Mouse relaxed again, reassured by his gesture.

Soon the stage was set for a first attempt; the impromptu chime had been set, and indeed its clacking was audible a few moments before gusts would carry through the alley and provide lift. Jack positioned himself a sufficient distance to gather speed, and the others cleared the way; Slip crouched low to the side, ready to snag him in case of a failed attempt.

Jack crouched on the peak, his heartbeat unhurried, his limbs carefully kept from tensing. He listened. It felt like the world was listening too.

Clatter-clack.

He moved.

In a moment he was at the edge, pushing off and forward with all his strength. He purposefully leaned forward during the jump, leaping as parallel as he dared to catch the lift he knew was coming. For a frozen, heart-clenching instant he could feel the pull of gravity on him. But then rushing wind came up from below in a rush and carried him, just as Racket had promised, up to the roof where he almost leisurely reached out and vaulted over the lip.

Jack gracefully turned on his heel to deliver a theatrical bow for his awaiting audience. Returning to their company was an easy effort, particularly with steadying hands waiting for him.

Racket was abuzz with excitement, grabbing hold of Dart’s arm and delightedly exclaiming. “He did it, birdboy lofted by the wind as I! Did ya see? Nah hold on him the earth can claim!”

At first Dart tensed at his touch, but after a moment Jack saw her relax into it as the wonder in Racket’s voice lacked any room for gloating.

“And clever Mouse!” Racket spun on the small figure. “Ya came with the finest of logics!” He took a first step towards them, but came up short at their panicked step back. “Well, I thank ya.”

After that success everyone had to have a turn at the leap, as their eyes already lingered greedily on the gap. These results were more mixed. Mouse and Dart each managed in their turns without issue, and Jack could see the effect from an outside view, how the wind would catch and give them the added lift to clear the jump. If he hadn’t experienced it himself he would have been sure it was some kind of card effect.

Slip’s attempt had her upward velocity slow before she’d reached sufficient height, but with a flourish she spun in the air to kick off the wall and return to their shared roof. Jack recalled that the clatter of the chime had been quieter before her leap, and came to the conclusion that some gusts would lack the required power.

Racket sheepishly admitted to lacking charges for any of his cards that might save him in an accident, and as Jack needed to run it several more times to confirm its viability, Slip denied Racket his chance until later.

Gravel’s effort took the longest, as he waited through several clatters of the chimes until a particularly strong gust came. However, even with this patience his bulk was only slightly budged by the rush of air, and so he alighted to the roof by activating a card to propel himself the remaining distance.

“I may have half-again the ‘sail’ of any of you, but I’ve got near on twice the weight as well.” He summarized on his return.

Then there were only Jack’s attempts left. After some discussion it was agreed that he should try progressively weaker gusts to determine the minimum safe threshold for a successful jump.

The first few were successful, but eventually—clatter-clack—a particularly weak gust came. Even as he went out over the gap Jack knew that the lift he was feeling wouldn’t be enough to clear the leap and soon his expectations were met as he felt himself begin to fall.

Slip had already seen his predicament, and had leapt out after him. Extending from her wrist was a thin line of cord, tossed at him in a fluid motion as she leapt. It was her rescue rope, and Jack had encountered it before. A card allowed her to transfer up to half of her momentum to anyone in contact with the rope, which as long as he kept a grip on it, meant that she could bring them both to safety with the assistance of her deck of movement cards.

Jack saw the cord enter his field of vision and snapped his hand around it. A moment later he felt a jerk as his entire body’s momentum shifted. With practised dexterity Slip deposited him back upon the roof, where after a brief check the others determined them to be fine.

“Alright, standard debrief Slip and Canary. Two minute personal review, then open share.” Gravel said.

This was one reason why Jack had stuck closely to Gravel in his years with the night-runners. He took safety seriously, and even anticipated incidents were given sober evaluation. Jack and Slip were expected to stop and think about their experience, mentally review all the events while it was still fresh, and only then voice their account. Depending on the context, Gravel might listen to each of them separately, to ensure that neither influenced the other.

Many inexperienced runners covered up their own feelings of fear if a senior downplayed the events—opening the door for serious injuries down the line.

Some found his method overbearing, particularly as he could be gruff, and notoriously explosive when there was negligence. But Gravel’s method also forced accountability, and his record spoke for the effectiveness of his approach—he boasted fewer injuries and better training for new night-runners than anyone.

After their allotted time, Jack and Slip reconvened with the others.

“No issues for me.” Jack spoke first, as the junior. “I knew the line was coming, and it appeared well before I had gathered any speed. It felt like even a weak gust gave a generous window for a rescue, I started to fall pretty slowly, so Slip had a lot of time to respond.”

“I... agree with Canary’s assessment. The basic failure state is extremely favourable.” Slip went silent, considering. “There was something I didn’t like about the conditions. I’m not sure what.”

Gravel waited patiently, they wouldn’t be moving on until Slip gave an all clear.

She tentatively continued. “I suppose I imagined trying to do a recovery if he was deeper in the fall. It would be tricky, with the walls so close. Not a lot of room to maneuver.” She looked up for a moment, taking her time to think. “But if he’s that far out of reach things have already gone wrong. It’s the same risk anyone takes with a jump over open space.” She sighed. “I just didn’t like the feel of it I suppose.” She looked at Jack and imitated the street drawl with faint irony. “Nah diving off when I’m nah looking ya hear?”

Jack smiled; Slip’s delivery was terrible, but he could tell she was trying to put him at ease and appreciated the gesture.

Still, it was clear that the chime wasn’t a foolproof indicator of safe traversal. If the jump was going to be included in the canon of routes, it would be with a requirement that any runners have a card based safety net or a spotter before risking it. But Jack knew that even with this caveat, the opening of this route would produce a frenzy of discovery in the night-runners, as impractical jumps would be reexamined for conditional viability.

He felt a pang of regret—if he was lucky there might be a few nooks left for him to test weeks from now when he could return. If he even remained uncarded at that point. His days of special treatment by the night-runners would soon be over, as he would soon be leaving his tester status behind. He didn’t allow himself to ruminate for long; this was the first real excitement he’d had in weeks and taking advantage of it was foremost on his mind.

“Well, let’s give it a couple more jumps if you’re up for it. I want to try and land it without hands.” Jack quipped.

They returned to their positions and Jack settled in to listen. He needed a significant gust if his plan was going to pan out, and so he let several modest clacks from the chime pass.

But then, CLATTER-CLA-CLATTER-CLACK, it came, a stronger clatter than they’d heard all evening. He sprung from his crouched position into a jolted sprint. Some small part of him interrogated the noise, wondering at its deviance from the earlier sounds, but this objecting fraction was overruled in the name of motion.

He angled his body further forward than any of his previous jumps, essentially horizontal, to better capture the fullness of the gust as it came. He figured that if he could leverage the entirety of the wind pressure from below, he could put all of the strength of his leap into forward momentum, and let the wind bring him up the entire vertical distance.

Out over the gap, parallel to the earth, he waited for the wind from below to lift him up... But it never came.

The air around him was still, there was no surge to shift his trajectory from an impending collision with the wall he had just flung himself at. Shouts were already rising behind him, and he knew that Slip would be following shortly. Minimizing risk was the new objective, interrogating what happened would come later.

In the instant before his communion with the smooth stone of the wall he did his best to mitigate the collision, bringing his arms forward to protect his face. His quick reflexes ensured he avoided the worst of the blow to his head, but still his body struck with a heavy thud.

Winded and dazed, he started to fall. The fear was there. It never went away, particularly when things went awry. But he had fallen before, time and time again, and that repetition had ingrained those first moments with an indelible understanding of what needed to be done.

Suddenly he felt his speed drop—Slip had used her single-use on him, giving her time to close the distance. He was still wracked with tension, but some of it faded with the security she brought. He brought the fear to heel, and used it to motivate himself, instead of being paralyzed by it.

Jack twisted in midair and reoriented himself toward Slip’s approach. The new position would speed his fall, but with her card effect that wasn’t of great concern. More importantly it maximized his ability to coordinate with Slip.

He focused on the cord that even now was being flung by Slip as she jumped after him. Still recovering his focus from the hit, his muddled eyes tracked the rescue rope. It was nearly in reach, the light cord whipping toward him with precision.

Clatter-Clack.

The sound of disaster.

The wind rushed from below and captured the rope, tearing it away even as his fingers stretched out to just brush its fibre. Slip was caught as well, stretched out parallel to the ground as she was. She was buffeted up, just as the wind-tunnel had done a dozen times that night.

Jack, facing the gust head on, was caught by the main direction of the gust and was flung deeper into the alley.

Jack, oriented vertically as he stretched for the cord, was lifted not at all.

Jack, feeling Slip’s effect fail as she moved out of range, felt the sudden pull of gravity grab him.

Time slowed for him. From this height he already knew that the fall was lethal.

A fall from twenty meters he’d strike the ground in two seconds. With two seconds for the earth’s pull to draw him down, he’d strike at a speed to shatter bones. Even mitigating efforts, attempting to strike the walls to slow his descent, ricocheting between the walls of the alleyway would only guarantee his crippling even if his life was saved.

This conclusion wasn’t thought through deliberately. It was immediately understood. Knowledge so intimate that the moment he saw Slip pushed away, he knew his own death was embracing him.

For the first second of his fall, he accepted his own end, inevitable as it was.

But then, outrage. How dare his story end like this; dreams unrealized; plans incomplete, and aspirations unfulfilled?

That overwhelming defiance permeated through him, a desperate clawing animal with only a desire for life lived within him; so when he felt gentle pressure of a card forming in his mind, he seized it.