Aslan hadn’t bothered to brief his father. It wouldn’t matter what he said, he’d still be to blame anyway. Why give him the satisfaction of embarrassing him in public? Fully armoured in his fatigues, the only glimpse he’d caught of the Rayiys was as he left the palace. He was looking down on him from atop the stairs, his knuckles white from gripping the golden banister.

Aslan walked with a slight limp as his feet crunched the shards of broken glass littering the main hall. His attendant had done everything he could to salve his wounds, yet still they stung. It’d be fine by morning, he was sure.

Eight of his best awaited him on the lawn. Brothers from birth. At his approach, they raised their arms and slapped the left sides of their chests in salute. He returned the gesture.

“They can’t have gone far,” he called. “They’ll be looking for a way out. Two of them are stricken, so they’ll be slow. They’ll want the clearest, shortest path out the palace and that’s how we’ll head them off. Ayaz! What’s the status of the Marble Mynds?”

“Our forces are down by two-thirds. We lost seven in the forest, another nine when the wall blew. We’ve sent for reserves from the Golden Gate.”

“Take what’s left and split them between you and Murat. Kadir and Emin, you go with him and cover the Western Wall. Murat, take Deniz and Taner; use the Mynds you have and seal the breach. Ruslan, Baris; you’re with me.”

“What’re we doing?” said Baris.

“Hunting…”

 

* * *

 

Keon was working furiously to untie some of the ropes binding the boats. They’d tossed around the idea of taking three boats and burning the other two—which was probably the quickest way to get caught. The new plan was to set them all loose so no one could follow them. Well, so no one could follow them that way. Apparently Moonlamps flew. All of this was new to him so, frankly, anything was possible.

As he unlooped a knot, he looked over at Zahara who was one boat down. She didn’t so much as give him a glance. She was acting weird, and right after she’d flung herself at him in front of everyone back at the barracks. Yeah, she’d tried to style it out, but he knew what was up. At least, he thought he did. He hoped he did.

He felt his chest warm at the thought before his feelings practically froze in the pit of his stomach. Why was she acting off with him? Had he done something wrong? And then there was Shem. He was still getting over the fact that Avana had actually come to his defence. Kind of. Shem was as much to blame as he was, apparently, so technically it washis fault. Keon wouldn’t have trusted some guy he barely knew with his thoughts.

None of this made him feel any less guilty though. He thought he’d chance a glance at Shem, then realised he’d had been scowling at him the entire time. He wasn’t even looking at the ropes he was untying. It was like his fingertips had eyes.

Keon tried searching for comfort in Dawit, but Avana had made him sit down and catch his breath. His body was still fighting off whatever this ‘stricken’ thing was and he’d started to overexert himself. That’s when Jonas caught Keon’s eye, or Jonas’ eye caught Keon’s. He wasn’t sure which it was. Jonas bowed a gentle nod, pointed at him and did an ‘ok’ hand gesture.

“You ok?”

Keon shrugged. He thought he saw Jonas’ shoulders sag slightly as though he were burdened. This was, literally, the most they’d directly communicated, but he had the oddest sense that this guy had his back; maybe even more than the others.

His other concern was Asya. She was busying herself, but he could tell she was having a hard time of it. Maybe he was naïve for trusting her, but he had a good feeling about her; that she meant well. They wouldn’t have gotten this far without her. Sure, it could all be a ruse and he hoped it wasn’t, but surely she wouldn’t put herself at risk like this for nothing?

Someone was tapping. No. Kai was pacing. Hobbling with his hands wringing through that wild explosion he called a haircut, muttering to himself.

“Flip sake. Flip sake. Flip sake.”

“Are you gonna shut up an’ ‘elp us anytime soon, mate?” said Shem, dashing the loosened ropes.

“I should’ve just stayed in bed. This is long.”

“And we would’ve been worse off without you,” said Avana.

“Don’t gas! You said it yourself. It’s useless me being here.”

“I said you’re lazy.”

“What’s the difference?!”

“No one despises the lazy because he’s useless. They despise him because they know he can do better.”

He stopped pacing, and for a moment it seemed as though that might have gotten through to him. Then he shook it off, went back to pacing, and Avana rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, he drew to a stop again.

“Wait, what are we doing?”

“Oh, give it a rest, mate,” sighed Shem.

“No, seriously. What are we doing using boats when we can glide down?”

“Oh no, not that again,” said Keon.

Kai turned to Asya.

“How high is the drop?”

“Uh…”

“Nevermind. Guys, listen. Number one, it’s safer then riding canoes down a cliff. Two, they won’t realise we’re gone ‘cause they won’t be missing any boats. Three, we’ll cover ground a lot quicker and can make the rest of our way on foot.”

His eyes ping-ponged between them, anticipating a response.

He turned again to Asya.

“I’m assuming Meshech’s on the other side, right?”

“Meshech?”

“Anatolia.”

She nodded.

“Anatolia?” said Keon. “Ain’t that Turkey?”

Kai flapped a shrug at Keon.

“Underland and Earth share parallel geography, bro.”

Keon leaned forward.

“Wait. You’re saying we’re in Turkey?”

“Sort of,” said Shem.

“Sort of?”

“Look at it this way,” said Kai, spreading an invisible map with his hands, “Whatever it was that split Earth’s land into separate continents…”

“You’re talking about Pangea?” Keon interjected.

“Yeah. That didn’t happen here. And all the water that would’ve been down here is up there,” he continued, pointing to the sky, “So, when we crossed the Narrow Strait, we were crossing the British Channel. It’s not exact, but everywhere in Underland maps onto somewhere on Earth. They’re equivalents. So, things that are here correspond to things that are there, and what happens here affects what happens there.”

Keon shot to his feet and started pacing, his eyes flicking through his thoughts like fingers through a Codex. He knew there was something familiar about that place. The river near the forest where he entered Underland; where he was attacked by the Mynds. It was just like the route he would take if he jumped out his bedroom window and made his way to the park. Past Miss Gaviscon and Captain Antibiotic. Over the rickety bridge. The rickety bridge that crossed the river. It was the same river, he was sure of it. Which meant—

“What is it? Why’re you doing that?” said Kai.

Keon stopped and stared at him.

“I think I know where my dad is...”

 

* * *

 

Aslan stood on the grass looking up at the open window. The Torchbearer’s open window. Asya had been in there. Had he bewitched her somehow? Fed her Torchbearer lies? No. It couldn’t be. He was as ignorant of their ways as anyone. He didn’t even know about the Perfect Mirror.

The Perfect Mirror.

Was that it?

She’d come to him a couple of weeks ago, all concerned about the way he’d been using his Mirror; the new technique he’d deployed against the Mental Mynd (as much good as it had done against the masked Torchbearer).

“What if we’re wrong?” she’d asked. “About the Chain. About everything. What if we’re not as in control as we think?”

The gold-lined coffee table had almost shattered as he flew across the room like a wraith of twisted shadow and grabbed her by the wrist.

“Do I look like someone who’s not in control?” he’d said, grey eyes boring holes into her skull.

He hadn’t let go until she’d opened her mouth in a silent cry. Her wrist had fallen like dead weight into her other palm as he let go and blinked back to himself.

His eyes followed the thin ledge outside the window, imagining their crouched forms inching their way along the wall, all the way to the edge.

“Aslan! I found him.”

Ruslan approached, accompanied by a tall, bronze skinned Masabih; his thick beard tickling his chest.

“Hamza. You were posted here?”

He nodded.

“Me and Selim.”

“What did you see?”

“Sister Asya out on the ledge. There was a boy with her. Climbing out the window. That’s when the alarm bell sounded.”

She’d been leading him; helping him escape.

“Did you see where she went?”

“No, but I can guess.”

Aslan’s eyes narrowed.

“How?”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve caught her sneaking out the palace, Kaptan.”

 

Aslan’s arms whipped as his feet battered the grass, Ruslan and Baris trailing behind him. He turned and beelined for the eastern wall, waving his comrades as he went.

“RIVER GATE! THEY’RE BY THE RIVER GATE!”

 

* * *

 

The tolling of the bell rippled across the river surface, ricocheting off the walls of the dock. Everyone froze like cats caught in the kitchen, halfway up the wooden steps of the bridge. A mass of Moonlamps could be seen converging on them from every side. Up both banks of the river. Racing across the top of the walls. Bounding over the gardens.

“Bloody hell,” said Shem. “GO! GO!”

 Arrows whistled through the air, forcing them to duck and dive up the steps. As Keon passed, Shem grabbed him by the arm and stuffed something in his palm. A tiny origami glider.

“Remember, flick to expand it. Only when you reach the top!”

Keon paused, a sheepish smile arching the corner of his mouth. Shem rolled his eyes.

“Alright, alright. Just move!”

He likewise slapped a paper glider in Asya’s hand.

“Don’t mess us about, yeah?”

She nodded and sprinted up the steps.

Avana, Dawit and Kai had already gone over. Jonas was at the top, spurring them on with one arm and parrying arrows with the other. Zahara stood across, relaying his instructions as each person went over the wall.

“Keep left of the river. If your glider gets stuck in the trees, let go. Start running as soon as you hit the ground!” she said.

She lingered on Keon.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

Looking back once at Asya, he flicked his wrist—the glider exploding to full size—ran and jumped off the edge of the wall.

The wind immediately clawed at his shawl as he tore through the air. It was harsh and cold against his skin, ripping the moisture from his eyeballs. The sky shone overhead like a diamond encrusted lavender tapestry. He blinked, trying to orientate himself and keep sight of the river. The forest below was thick and dark, obscuring its twists and turns. There it was! Winding through the boughs like a silvery serpent. He glanced back. Asya was close behind, a few metres out to his right. Turning to the other side, he caught sight of Zahara. But no Shem. No Jonas.

“Where are they?!” he bellowed, but the wind swallowed his words.

His fist clenched over the handles as the forest grew closer, the anxiety of his last glider trip still fresh in his mind as he picked up speed. Was his ankle twinging from muscle memory or because the injury was still healing?

He was drifting too far right! He banked left then levelled out. The trees were coming fast now. How on earth would he get through without snagging the glider? He shouldn’t have closed his eyes, but he did. He felt the leaves rush past his ankles, the branches rake his legs. Then he jolted to a stop, swung briefly from the momentum and dropped.

 

* * *

 

Aslan slowed to a stroll. The last Torchbearer had vanished over the edge of the wall. For a moment, he stood staring at the spot where the masked one had been standing; right by the keyhole to the Eastern Gate. He hadn’t seen Asya, but no doubt she was with them. His tongue caught in his throat at the thought, forcing a hard swallow. She’d left him. She’d left him with him.

Flicking the latches on his chest, he let his Kodeks drop, ripped out the stylus and wrote. He tore the page without looking and rolled it into a thin, pointed cone that he stabbed into the ground.

“Hear me Almuluk,” he whispered.

Gradually the paper began to crinkle as it was pulled into the ground. Ruslan and Baris joined him, Murat, Ayaz and their troops not far behind.

“The wall?” said Aslan without turning.

“Under repair as we speak,” said Murat.

“Should we inform the Rayiys?” asked Ayaz.

“There’s no time. She’s leading them across the strait. We’ll lose them without the light.”

“She?”

“Asya’s betrayed us. She’s with the Hainlerin.”

He tore another page from his Kodeks, holding it out in his palm.

“May Almuluk lend us his chariots.”

Bending the knee, he slammed the paper flat on the ground. It rippled and burst outwards, unrolling like a carpet beneath his hands and feet. The rippling didn’t cease, but rather gathered steam, as though winds were blowing beneath it. The howl of rushing torrents grew louder as the paper carpet began to lift. Up and up Aslan rose, joined by his eight comrades who assembled in an arrowhead formation. The blasts of air tore at the grass, mingling with dirt and dust.

“For Almuluk!”

“FOR ALMULUK!”

Aslan leaned forward, pressed down with his palm, and the paper carpet shot off in a thunderous blast, followed by his brothers in arms. They angled back, swiftly gathering altitude and soared over the eastern wall.