Viggo ran, his lungs burning and his legs screaming in protest as he hauled Evander along beside him. The mage was flagging, his face pale and his breathing laboured. Whatever had happened inside that impossible space where he’d disappeared for those frightening minutes had drained him to the dregs.
Fairbridge sprinted ahead, his coat torn and bloodied, his wind magic clearing debris from their path even as chunks of masonry rained down from above. Further explosions rocked the complex.
“This way!” he shouted over the cacophony of groaning stone and splintering wood.
They veered left and followed him down a corridor that tilted at an alarming angle. Viggo’s boots slipped on loose rubble. He tightened his grip on Evander’s arm and kept moving.
A section of ceiling gave way behind them with a deafening crash. Dust billowed through the passage, choking and blinding, the stench of smoke quickly following.
“Viggo—” Evander stumbled, his knees buckling.
Viggo caught him before he could fall and swept him up into his arms without breaking stride. The mage was lighter than heshould have been, as if the ordeal had hollowed him out from the inside.
“I’ve got you!” Viggo panted. “Just hold on!”
Evander’s fingers curled weakly into his coat. The half-Codex was a hard weight pressed between their bodies where the mage had slipped it inside his shirt.
They burst through a doorway and found themselves in what remained of an eastern-facing dining hall. Moonlight streamed through gaping holes in the roof, illuminating a scene of utter devastation.
The floor began cracking apart beneath their feet.
“The whole structure’s going down!” Fairbridge’s voice was tight with urgency. “We need to get outside, now!”
But there was no outside to get to. The walls were collapsing behind them and fire was spreading, blocking the doorways and corridors they’d used to enter. The only opening Viggo could see was a ragged breach in the wall ahead. Beyond it was the cruel snowstorm and the black void of the precipice with the frozen lake far below.
He swallowed hard.
“Fairbridge, can you slow our fall with your wind magic?”
The spy’s face turned even grimmer when he realised Viggo’s intention. “From this height? I can cushion the landing, but not enough. We’d still hit the ice hard enough to shatter every bone in our bodies.”
“Then we find another way.” Viggo scanned the crumbling space around them desperately, his heart thundering against his ribs.
There had to be something, an escape path they’d missed?—
The floor lurched violently beneath them before tilting precariously toward the precipice. The wall protecting them from the void caved in and tumbled into the abyss.
Viggo cursed as they slid inexorably toward the howling darkness.
Evander stirred in his arms. “Viggo.” Though his voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes glittered with resolve in his pale face. “The lake. I can slow us down and break the ice before we hit it.”
Viggo’s chest constricted. “But you?—”
Evander’s knuckles whitened on his chest. “Trust me.”
Another violent tremor shook the building. A massive beam crashed down mere feet away, showering them with splinters and dust. The fire crept closer, the flames licking their skin with heat.
They were out of time.
“Fairbridge!” Viggo roared. “We’re going over the edge. Be ready to help however you can!”
The spy didn’t argue. He simply nodded and moved to flank them, wind magic gathering around him.
Viggo took a shuddering breath and looked down at the man in his arms. The man he loved more than his own life.
“If this doesn’t work—“ he started.
“It will.” Evander’s smile was tired but certain. “Now run, you stubborn Brute.”
