Now came the hard part.
Epsilon would cover for them as long as possible, but time was running out, and Altan needed to escape with Griffin before his absence was discovered. Griffin was gravely injured and he could barely limp along with Altan supporting him, so how were they meant to get past the heavily guarded exit? The archers? The towering Scourge that loomed over the city? Even if they managed to escape unnoticed, they needed to make it over an entire kilometre through the open midnight desert to where Jarret, his mount, and Knax were hiding. What if they were chased? What if Jarret or Knax had been found? There were so many unknowns, so many things that could go wrong. It'll be a miracle if we get out of this alive.
"Altan." Griffin croaked. Some life had returned to his eyes, and they glowed every so faintly in the midnight air. "The guards have passed."
"Mm? Right. Sorry. Come on, let's go."
         Slinging Griffins good arm over his shoulder, Altan hoisted him to his feet, and the pair quietly ducked out from behind the old, broken cart in the alley to the open street. They were coming up on the exit. The large sandstone wall bordering the city rose before them, and as they crept closer and closer, Altan become increasingly doubtful they'd be able to escape. Griffin was in no state to protect them with magic. There were always a minimum of two guards at the gates, so there's no way he could kill both of them in time before an alarm was raised. What was he going to do? It was up to him, but what could a pitiful human like him do in this land of magic and monsters?
       The night was cold. He shivered.
        "There must be another way..."
        The faint plop of footsteps appeared and Altan quickly pulled Griffin into yet another alley, retreating into the shadows as a pair of the Black Guard swept through the streets, riding atop those strange ostrich-like monsters. Griffin informed him they were called Razorsteps. Although lethal in their own right, featuring several inch long talons and a horrifyingly elongated beak that could easily rip through metal or bone like water, their main purpose was crowd control. They were fast, and they could outrun practically any land creature. Including Knax. They came and went without issue, but just was Altan was about to lead them back into the street, Griffin tugged weakly on his arm.
       "Look." He whispered.
        Altan turned to see what Griffin was talking about, and found him to be nodding at an old decrepit post board that had been haphazardly tossed into the alley. It's legs were broken, so Altan thought maybe it had been damaged during the ambush since they were in the same general vicinity. There were a few torn pages still pinned to the cracked wood, and Altan quickly spotted what Griffin was pointing out. Of course, a wanted poster featuring Griffin was posted. But the poster beside it...

WANTED - DEAD OR ALIVE BY ORDER
OF HIS MAJESTY, KING CENTURION.
REWARD OF 200,000 GOLD TALONS
EX-PRINCE TEABERRY'S COMPANION
MALE, GREEN EYES, BROWN HAIR
LEAN, APPROX. 6+ FT TALL
SEEN FLEEING ON AN ADULT BROWN FENNECAINX WITH BLUE FLAMES

Although his picture was missing, and his name was unknown, Altan was officially affiliated with the exiled Prince. He grabbed the poster and smiled.
"Griffin, you're a genius."
"What?"
No time to explain. Altan repositioned himself at Griffin's side and they began to backtrack the way they had come. Altan's eyes scoured the dusty streets. I know we passed one just a few minutes ago... there! A small side alley veered off from the street they were travelling on and there, cut into the ground at its dead end, was a long forgotten entrance to the sewer system beneath the city. He set Griffin carefully against the wall then shuffled forward and, after some struggle, removed the stiff cover from the entrance. He peered down the narrow hole with some hesitation. The moonlight glinted off of the moist tunnel seven maybe eight feet down. There was an old, brittle ladder leaned against the wall for easy access, but with ten broken fingers and a shattered arm, Altan wasn't sure how he'd get Griffin down there. But he had to figure out a way, and fast, while they still had time.
Griffin, astute as always, sensed Altan's hesitation and chimed in from behind. "How far down is it to the tunnel?"
"Um... maybe eight feet? It's a decent drop. There's a ladder but I don't really know how this is going to work. It's kind of a tight fit, too."
Griffin pushed himself away from the wall and Altan quickly shifted to support him but he shook his head in protest. "I can stand." He insisted, before taking a few unsteady steps forward to assess the drop himself. "You climb down first, and then I will drop behind you."
"What?!" Altan whisper yelled, "Absolutely not. You're already hurt, Griffin, you can't just-"
"Altan, please." He interrupted, a frown decorating his face. "There is no time for argument. I will be fine. Thankfully, those bastards never got to my legs."
Altan pursed his lips and a pang of guilt slammed into his gut. But there Griffin was, staring at him with such determination despite his condition, and Altan knew deep down it was the easiest option.        
      Realistically, the impact might knock the wind out of him, but it wasn't deep enough that it should cause injury. Unless he slipped, maybe, but Altan would be there to help steady his fall. It was hard to accept even with that rationale; Altan couldn't help but feel personally responsible for Griffin's well being, and he hated it. There was this... tension, too. It was palpable. Although Griffin was clearly in physical pain after a week of torture, there was a layer of emotional pain too that was written plainly all over his face. Who knows the kinds of impacts such a traumatic event were having on him, and Altan could guess that Griffin probably wasn't exactly chuffed with him, either.
The words escaped without his permission. "Look, Griffin, I'm really sorry for what happened last week. I didn't mean to leave you I just-"
Griffin shook his head, and averted his eyes. "Altan. This is not an appropriate time."
Altan's face flushed with embarrassment and he cleared his throat softly, turning away. "You're right. Let's get out of this stupid city."