The Chronicles of Jonathon Postlethwaite: The Seed of Corruption by David S Denny Page A

the irregular terrain, steep roofs and street chasms seeming to present no obstacle.
                                They came closer. With giant inhuman leaps they cleared the ridges of the highest buildings  until  soon  they bore down on him. Now only the wide sheer  drop  to  the street was between them and him. Surely they would stop now, Jonathon thought.
                                At this closer distance he saw that they looked human despite their superhuman performances. He expected them to stop or at least divert from their suicidal path, but they did not. They charged on regardless, hurling themselves towards the edge of the ravine before leaping high into the air above the street to what seemed an unnaturally obtainable height. Once in the air they stretched out their arms to reveal wing-like membranes tied tautly between wrist and ankle. These 'wings' stalled their natural fall helping them to glide easily across the open space and land before a gaping Jonathon, who gazed in awe, astonished at their feat.
                                On landing, their heavily gloved hands, complete with talon like hooks, clattered loudly, seeking purchase between the algae and moss covered tiles. The first recovered himself and stood awaiting his companion on the ridge where Jonathon lay.
                                He was  indeed  human.  His  body  was  bound  in a mummified fashion in leather and padded heavily at the knees and elbows to lessen the  force  of  impact. This man's face, except for the  eyes,  was  swathed and hidden in dark cloth. The flying man turned and studied Jonathon with his intense blue eyes before moving to sit beside him.
                                Removing his heavy cloth headgear he smiled a toothless, but reassuring grin at the startled youth who sat on the roof top beside him. He was breathing heavily and rested for a while, continuing to study Jonathon intently while he recovered. Then he spoke, but he did not whisper with the wind as Milly had done.
    “Had a good sleep Jonny-Boy..........you feel better now?" his voice remarkably soft and deep, like velvet Jonathon thought, so much like his Grandfather's voice. Jonathon, still struck dumb by the two men's impressive acrobatic performances, merely nodded in reply. The toothless man nodded back and sucked in air, he stretched out his taloned glove to Jonathon.
    “I’m Tefkin, it was me who collected you on Bridge Street..........sorry I was a little late, or perhaps in the nick of time depending on which way you look at it. Still, at least there was something left to collect. Sorry to tear you away from your new friend though." he laughed, his sense of humour confusing Jonathon and forcing him to remember the humourless episode in the hands of the wild woman and then Flax himself.
    “Thank you." Jonathon managed in reply. Tefkin shook his head.
    “No, thank Dale here, he threw the brick. Good shot eh?" he turned to his companion who sat a few feet away on the ridge of coping stones, staring across the Lower City.
                                Dale turned and muttered something unintelligible to Tefkin and waved a friendly greeting to Jonathon. “Doesn’t speak a lot, our Dale, but he's a good friend to have around."
                                Tefkin looked across the roofs he and Dale had just crossed, taking in a few deep breaths to control his breathing, then asked with some enthusiasm.
    “Do you wanna eat now our Jonny boy?”
                                Jonathon suddenly realised how hungry he was, but did not need to answer Tefkin as his stomach chose that moment to answer for him. It groaned pleadingly and both Tefkin and Dale laughed out loud.
    A short while later, inside the shack, Jonathon, Tefkin, Dale and