The gaps, the curves, ledges and facades, they were all a lifeline to him. A simple thing really. Just protrusions really. Each year architects tried to find new ways to reduce them, to make the buildings more... austere. And each year Nes found new ways to find handholds to climb.

Nes climbed down from the abandoned, decrepit, almost fallen building's roof an old man had told him of.

The strange thing was that he didn't know the man-in fact, he'd never met him. But somehow, in the least possible way, the old man had stumbled onto his path when Nes was hiding, made to turn away, but then stopped and told him of this place to hunker down.

Perhaps an old, kindly man. Or a god. Maybe the Fiery God himself. Nes chucked to himself at his childish thoughts.

It was a fine building to spend the day, yet not quite a safe house. The day had been cool, the clouds rained gentle and pleasant. He would've gotten hungry, but thankfully he still had quite a bit of pastries and cakes in his pockets. Also he had filled a small sack with food and a bottle of fine fruit-wine, all stolen from Torvun's inn.

He had slept only a few hours, waking every hour, worried men with weapons were about to kill him. Or demons with fiery powers and unholy faces were going to mutilate him.

Of course, he knew men were the real monsters.

Night had descended finally, blessedly, and he made his way for the Ivory Tower.

He skirted the less populous streets, managing to stay in plain sight yet hidden by people. Most people didn't care to look at rooftops often, and it was a good thing too.

It paid to be extra vigilant for someone in his profession when entering the Noble's district of the city. Since there were soldiers patrolling the wealthy streets, and personal guards, running on rooftops was a task best left alone to cats.

A few streets from the Ivory Tower he noticed movement out of the corners of his eyes.

Spying a darkly lit corner, he swaggered towards it and peeked. Breath held, he waited, seeing but not knowing.

There!

Something fluttered in the dark. He readied to bolt, to run straight for the Ivory Tower, but he knew if he did this without forming a plan, he'd probably die.

Nes was about to run, when his quarry shambled into view.

It was a black and white, mangy, greasy looking cat. Mind you, a particularly large cat, but still a harmless creature.

Nes laughed, settling on his haunches. A Berber wracked, silent laugh.

Then a huge weight slammed into him, heavy blows started raining on his midriff, arms, shoulders, blessedly he put up his hands around his head but every part of his body was getting beaten like meat in a butcher's block.

"Lads! Me's got the cunt!" A woman's voice spoke above him.

She paused in her doling of a considerable beating. Triumphant, maybe, smug perhaps.

Nes took the chance and bolted. He dashed his shoulder in her stomach, staggering the large woman away and climbed in the dark.

He broke several of his nails, scraped his knees and shins, but fiery strength and a deep sense of survival helped him push to the roof.

Lancing pain jolted through his leg, a blade cutting into the meaty part.

Nes cried out, but ran. Heading for the Ivory Tower.

If Nes was to die, he'd die at the hands of Royal Guards or die running, not at the hands of thugs.

The topside became a blur as he ran. Pain, mixed with adrenaline and fear, provided a healthy does of a sense of survival.

He had so many things left to do. Like, living, and stealing-all right, more stealing. Beautiful girls. And their necklaces and gem-studded rings, and fat, drooping earrings.

Most of all... he didn't want to be alone, dead in a dark alley, a place where even the daylight didn't get in much. Nes wanted to see the sun rise every day, a new start. A new beginning that ended the same day, yet started once more.

These thoughts spurred him faster even more than his mother's ghost if it were here.

So fast that the crossbow bolt only grazed his shoulder. It was a burning pain, warm liquid started dribbling down, but he judged it hadn't hit a major vessel.

The Emerald Palace came into view, taking up a large part of the city, with a wall surrounding it, guards standing on them.

While still being a part of the Palace, the Ivory Tower was separate from the palace-proper. It had been constructed where the old Ivory Palace had stood, but the Tower remained from that era.

There began shouting behind, fervent, crazed shouting of savages intent on butchering a fool-Nes didn't deny that he was a fool.

Next time-if there ever was a next time-he would avoid a thieves Guild leader's daughter like the plague.

It was a dangerous thing, to mindlessly swim in one's thought when angry little men and women nipped and yipped at one's heels, since one of them had caught up with him.

It was a young boy he realised from the glance he took, around his age, probably, and he had a serrated, ugly looking knife in his bony hands.

The bastard matched him in every way, he used the same handholds Nes used, the same rolling techniques even!

The little cheat!

The boy gained on him, then, brandishing his knife and a stupid grin.

Did he truly think he'd catch Nes?

He may have been a fool, a stupid greedy fool, but Nes owned the rooftops.

Nes suddenly pivoted on his heels, turning fully around, and struck the boy chasing after him in the face.

He expected a thud, dull pain in his fist as it connected with face and crunched the stupid bastard's nose, but it met empty air.

Stunned, he looked to see the boy crouching low, and too late he stepped back from the blade.

It sliced through his abdomen, blood spurted, but it was shallower than he expected.

The boy pulled back to stab Nes, and in his excitement he timed his strike poorly-this time, Nes' boot met nose and crunched cartilage, shattered the bone, and the boy was slammed back to his back.

Nes didn't stay long enough for him to recover-his own energy was leaking, quite literally.

The thought of climbing a tower seemed daunting... yet he would do it. Even if he failed, perhaps it would be the last thing Nes the climber, the connoisseur of things-not-his-own would do.

The Ivory Tower stood above him now, between him and it was a stretch of a long, quiet, dark street.

No guards were around, since no one could climb up here, nor would anyone be stupid enough to try.

This was it, then. Do or die. A particularly stupid sentiment, since you die either way, whether you conquer an empire or climb a tower, you still die.

As he gripped the ledge and made his way down from the building, the Bluenose thugs slowed, then stopped entirely.

They cast wary looks, eyeing the empty street, the Tower, and the wall and the lights of the Palace beyond.

Then three of them readied their lightly built crossbows.

"Oh flaming fiery shit!"

Nes scrambled across the street, spared a glance for the wall surrounding the Tower, and began his ascent.

His leg was injured, blood had stopped seeping, yet it hurt. His stomach was cut open, blood still oozed slowly, and his fingers were scraped raw and nails sore.

But he climbed. Finding handhold after handhold. A gap between the stone slabs, an old metal piece rotted and rusted yet partially solid. His moccasined toes between the arrowslits.

Nes was doing it! Actually climbing the bloody Ivory Tower!

His excitement burst like a bubble, especially a bubble which had been pierced by a bolt driven into his left butt cheek.

Nes let out a howl of pain, one hand slipped from a hole, but the other one gripped its hold, his life depended on it.

Sounds of cheering carried up to him, Bluenose congratulating the one lucky bastard.

Was this it? Hanging halfway between the tower, like a lizard clinging to a tree. His eyes caught a dim glow of light, coming from the window, behind him the street was dark, no lights nearby, in fact it was truly shoddy luck in Nes' part to get hit in this darkness.

Where had that come from?

He tried pushing him upwards, pain flared not just in his butt, but everywhere now, as if this wound in his behind was to be final and it had reminded his body it was hurt.

Bloody traitorous, couldn't it hold back for a bit longer?

Nes saw a glimmer again, and this time he pulled himself up, one arm in front of the other. His muscles started to burn, his feet were atrophying, and his arms were sagging... but it was close now, the window, and the light in it.

Another bolt whizzed past his ear and skittered on the stone. Fiery luck now saved him.

It seemed the all seeing lord was looking down on him with his fiery gaze.

Right hand on the window sill, the left hooked into a part of a pitted stone, he pulled his entire body closer... and realised he had no idea how to get in.

Panic set in. His breath became shallower, and he had the brilliant idea of looking down, which proved to be a mistake. The human mind didn't want to acknowledge the fact it was high, but when it did, then a primal fear set in.

Hyperventilation, sweat breaking out on his palms and fingers, his life flashed before him, his mother's dead face staring into empty space, his father's bloated tongue sticking out of his face.

Not pleasant things.

It seemed you left the world in the same way you came; crying and afraid.

Another bolt blurred past, and upward, it's steel-tip slamming into the glass pane of the window.

Nes wanted to laugh at his luck, he would be saved by the very acts of the people that wanted to kill him!

Yet... the glass didn't break, the bolt crunched through, spiralled a crack, yet it didn't break.

One hand then slipped out from the arrowslit, his wounded leg gave out, and darkness enveloped his world.

Part 2