Tomas swiveled his head about, searching for some way to escape. Then he saw it, the narrow trail so pitiful that he had to squint to make it out, the stone path blending with the wall behind it.

It started just off the corner of the ledge on which Tomas currently stood, a gap that was as long, perhaps, as he was tall. It might as well have been an infinite chasm. I can’t, he thought. The assassin will defeat our pursuers and then we’ll figure out another way.

THUMP! THUMP!

He spun, heart skipping a beat as he faced the two Kinkallian soldiers who’d dropped down from above. Their mouths were pulled into angry lines, their stares murderous. They weren’t just here to apprehend an escaping fugitive; they were here to avenge the death of their beloved sovereign, a righteous glee infused in their every move.

Their swords blazed with radiant light, sharp enough to cut through bone.

For once in his life, Tomas didn’t think, giving in to survival instincts that had slept dormant inside of him for his entire existence until this very moment.

He spun on his heel, took three powerful, galloping steps, planted his right foot as close to the cliff’s edge as he dared, and then jumped.

In his head, he’d imagined time standing still as he flew, or at least significantly slowing down, such that he’d be able to hear every beat of his heart, feel the flow of adrenaline through his veins, watch the space separating him from salvation evaporate bit by bit.

In reality, he blinked and it was over, the path seeming to charge forward to meet him, slamming its stone fist into his gut as his fingers scrabbled for purchase. Brittle rocks broke free from his grip and he felt a moment of panic as he realized there was nothing strong enough to sustain his weight.

But then one of his toes pressed into a crevice in the rockface and he was able to push upward, clawing and scratching and groaning and spitting like a feral animal. Crawling and slithering. And, finally, standing.

He turned back toward his pursuers, triumphant.

They sneered and started to run.

All thoughts of glory and victory vanished. He started to back away, one hand trailing on the rough wall to ensure he didn’t veer too far off course. The first soldier went airborne, legs and arms windmilling and then—

SLAM! He hit the edge of the path, chin cracking viciously off the stone. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped back. Gone.

There was no reprieve, however, his companion already soaring through the air, propelled by a much more powerful leap, one that carried him over the gap, landing on his feet. A smile flashed across his lips, as though even he was shocked he’d made it so easily.