Pilgrimage by Carl Purcell

confused stare before getting to his feet and looking out the window. The sky was dark. He couldn't see anything around the house. Then he looked down. Somewhere in the shadows below, probably fifteen metres or so by his guess, Griffith saw a lamp hanging over a dirt road. In that dim illumination he could see that between the house and the ground there was nothing but empty air. Griffith traced the road with his eyes as far as he could before it faded into the darkness. Far off, in the distance below them, he could see more twinkling lights and what looked like car headlights. Griffith leapt back from the window and rested his weight against the door, beside Roland.
    “Let me in!” Somebody shouted from the other side.
    “Go fuck yourself!” Roland answered.
    “We're in the air.” Griffith sighed the words more than he spoke them.
    “Yeah, we are. And it's only a matter of time before one of these guys has the bright idea to just melt the door with magic or something.”
    “What do we do now?” Griffith asked. Roland could hear the panic rising in his voice. He had that pleading, junkie look again. Roland wanted to smack him but he didn't dare take his weight off the door.
    “Unless there's a ladder in that pantry, I don't know. It's all on you, kid.”
    “What? Me? What can I do?”
    “You're the fucking sorcerer in this room, Griffith. The only sorcerer I can be certain isn't dead and won't try to kill us if he gets up. We need some magic right about now if we're going to get out of this shit-storm.”
    “What kind of magic?”
    “How about teleport? Can you teleport us out of here?”
    “Are you kidding? That's about as hard as magic gets! Why not ask me to move the moon while we're at it?” Griffith's voice was rising and cracking. His body was quaking, hardly helping keep the door closed.
    “Then do something else.” Roland doubled his efforts against the door, straining each word through clenched teeth.
    “But I don't know what to do! This isn't what I'm good at.”
    “That's fine, kid. You just need to get good at it in the next few minutes.” There was a moment of quiet. The door stopped shaking and Roland relaxed, waiting uneasily.
    Suddenly a violent force hit the door. The door frame cracked and splinters rained down around Roland. Griffith almost squealed when the door rocked. He stared, transfixed, at the door as if it was about to crush him.
    “Or seconds.” Roland added. “Seconds would be better.”
    “That's not possible! I can't just make a new spell in a few seconds with all this noise!”
    “Okay. You're scared. I understand.”
    “They're going to kill us, Roland! Oh jeez, how did—”
    “Griffith, shut up!” Roland barked. The command was punctuated by another wave of force blasting the door. Roland could feel the wood warping around the shape of his back.
    Griffith shut up.
    “I need you to stop being scared. Any second now those fuckers are going to come in here and kill us. Our only way out is through that window. So you need to stop having a panic attack and figure out a way to get us safely to the ground.”
    “All right.” Griffith nodded. He stared at Roland a few seconds without saying anything. Roland's unflinching resolve reassured him. “All right. I just need a minute to make the spell. I think I can do it.” He stepped away from the door, towards the windows. Roland braced himself. Another shock hit the door. Looking up, Roland could see the hinges about to snap.
    “That's a minute you might not have, Griffith.”
    There was no answer. Griffith had closed his eyes and placed his palms over his navel. His body stopped shaking and he sat stone still. Griffith's ability to focus was impressive if nothing else. Roland watched him, readying himself against the next blow. It would only take one or two more hits for the door to break and then there'd be no holding them back. Roland counted himself lucky that Pentdragon's goons were no better at teleporting than