26. Leah #2
We don’t slow down even when we’re out of sight of the Seraph Seat, skimming down over the outer edges of the city into the shadows of the lower tiers.
I keep waiting for Syrus to slip into my mind so we can strategize over our next steps—then remembering that less than an hour ago, we shut ourselves off from that forever.
Still, I glance at him now and find I can read his look.
We both know we’re too conspicuous with our black wings and with Viz in Syrus’s arms. Even from a distance, we’re identifiable.
We need to get out of sight. When I spot a narrow, empty alley below us, I look over at Syrus again, and he nods. We come in to land fast.
My feet have barely touched the ground when he turns to me.
“They have their hands full right now, but the seraphim won’t let a demon lord roam loose in their city for long. Especially now.”
I wince. “You heard what Wyvier said?”
“About your grandfather’s rebellion being in league with me?” he nods. “In his shoes, I’d likely think the same thing. Although if I actually was going to be involved in a hostile takeover of Luminis, I would do it with a little more finesse, trust me.”
I’m still struggling to process it all. This whole time I’ve been watching Garion orchestrate this insane grab for power right in front of my eyes, and I never suspected this was where he was headed. I knew he didn’t like the seraphim, but—
I shake myself out of it. There are more important things to deal with right now. Like Viz still lying unconscious in Syrus’s arms.
“What are we going to do about that?” I say, brushing Viz’s hair back lightly. The green of his blood is shockingly bright against the silver locks and bone-white skin. “It looks like it needs stitches.”
Syrus glances skyward.
“It’s impossible to get Vizmodeus treated here. We need to get him out of Aradis.”
“I’ll come with you,” I say. Staying clearly isn’t an option, not with the seraphim against me. I don’t have time to consider what that means—what I’ve lost now I’ve been aligned so clearly with Syrus and my scheming grandfather. There’s too much else to consider right now.
A strange mix of emotions passes across Syrus’s face, but he just nods.
“Can you open a rift to Infernum from here?” I ask.
His jaw tightens with worry. “Viz is our expert, and even he found it difficult. But I’m going to try. I’ve watched him do it a few times in the last few weeks. Though lately…” He shakes his head, obviously thinking of Viz’s recent complaints about the aether.
There’s a shuttered window in the alley which will work for a frame, and Syrus lays Viz gently down on the ground so his hands are free. I kneel beside Viz, propping his head up so the blood doesn’t get in his eyes.
Syrus draws his sword.
“Wait. Here,” I pull a small knife from my boot and hand it to Syrus. “It’ll be easier with this.”
He raises an eyebrow in a silent question as he takes the blade.
“After Keros tried to kill me, I started carrying more than just my sword around,” I explain.
He works fast to carve the runes into the wood of the window frame, pausing only occasionally to try to recall something.
“That’s my best guess,” he says when he’s finished, voice tight with frustration.
“We’ve just got to hope your memory is better than your carving skills,” I say, squinting at the chicken-scratch shapes. He rolls his eyes as he hands me back my knife, and I slide it into my boot then shove my hands in my pockets as I nervously watch the next part.
Syrus clicks his fingers so a flame appears between them, then he holds the flame to the runes until they catch alight.
The rift opens slowly—shakily—refusing to solidify into a clear tear in the air.
Instead, it remains a shimmering mirage, the edges of which swell and narrow erratically.
I always knew the aether between Aradis and Infernum is hard to pass through—it’s why the wingers hold all their battles in Strata— but I could never picture what “impassable” actually looked like until now.
“Um…” I begin, wondering how to say to Syrus that this doesn’t look stable or safe.
Sure enough, before I can say another word, the rift snaps shut, sealing itself off.
Syrus bares his teeth in frustration. “Maybe I made a mistake with the runes,” he says.
“Or maybe even Viz would be struggling right now,” I guess.
“Either way,” Syrus says, glancing skyward, “we don’t have time to figure it out. Look.”
I follow his gaze up to where a tight arrow-shaped formation of armored ephilium are flying high above us. They haven’t spotted us yet, but my pulse quickens anyway.
“It’s a patrol,” Syrus says. “And I’d bet my right horn they’re looking for us, along with any of Garion’s friends who might have escaped.”
We share a look, both refusing to say the obvious. If we can’t open a rift to Infernum…
Syrus breaks first. “Leah—”
“We’ll find somewhere proper to hide. We can discuss our options once we’re safe,” I say.
His brow furrows, skeptical. “Should we try to get out of the city? They’ll assume we’ve gone to Strata right away, so they might not consider watching the bridges.”
I shake my head. When I put my hands in my pockets, I feel the brush of a piece of paper folded away inside it. It gives me an idea.
“The Illidores got us into this mess,” I say with more confidence than I really feel. “They can help get us the fuck out of it.”