Myth-Ing Persons By Robert L Asprin

“Lookout . . .”

There was a sudden cry from above, and Massha came crashing to the ground, gaming the dubious distinction of being the first person I’ve ever witnessed doing a belly-flop on dry land. I’m sure the ground didn’t actually shake, but the impact was enough to leave that impression. I experienced a quick flash of guilt, realizing that my first thought was not for the well-being of my apprentice, but rather unbridled relief that she hadn’t landed on one of us.

“I think the controls just came unstuck,” Aahz said, rather unnecessarily to my thinking.

“Are you all right, Massha?” I said, crouching over her.

“Wha-ha …” came the forced reply.

“Of course, she’s not all right,” Aahz snapped, assuming translator duties. “At the very least she’s got the wind knocked out of her.”

Whatever the exact extent of the damages suffered from her fall, my apprentice wasn’t even trying to rise. I would have liked to give her a few minutes recovery time, but already the sounds of our pursuers were drawing closer.

“Can you carry her, Aahz?”

“Not on my best day,” my partner admitted, eyeing Massha’s sizable bulk. “How about you? Have you got enough juice left to levitate her?”

I shook my head violently.

“Used it all supervising our aerial maneuvers back at the jail.”

“Hey, Boss!” Guido hissed, emerging from the shadows behind us. “The alley’s blocked. This is the only way out!”

And that was that. Even if we got Massha up and moving, all it meant was that we’d have to retrace our steps right back into the teeth of the mob. We had run our race . . . and were about to lose it rather spectacularly.