paracute potion

It was an awfully good hidey-hole, I had to admit. We were out so far in the desert hills that the commute to nowhere was a long one. The facilities had been cut into a granite shelf at the end of a box canyon. There was a single road in, and the floor of the canyon was wide and flat and empty of any significant features, like friendly rocks that one might try to take cover behind. The walls of the canyon had been blasted sheer. No one was coming down that way without a hundred yards of rope or a helicopter.
Or a wizard.
"All right," I said. The night was growing cold. My breath steamed in the air as I spoke. "Take these. Drink half of 'em. Save the rest." I passed out test tubes filled with light blue liquid to Martin and Susan.
"What is it?" Susan asked.
"A parachute," I said. "Technically a flight potion but I watered it down. It should get us to the valley floor safely."
Martin eyed his tube, and then me.
"Harry," Susan began. "The last time I drank one of your potions, it became . . . awkward."
I rolled my eyes. "Drop into a roll at the end." Then I drank away half of my potion and stepped off the edge of the cliff.
Flight is a difficult thing for a wizard to pull off. Everyone's magic works a little differently, and that means that, when it comes to flying, the only way to manage it is by trial and error. And, since flying generally means moving very quickly, a long way above the ground, would-be aeromancers tended to cut their careers (and lives) short at the first error.
Flying is hard - but falling is easy.
I dropped down, accelerating for a second, then maintaining a pace of somewhere around fifteen miles an hour. It didn't take long to hit the desert floor, and I dropped into a roll to spread out the impact energy. I stood up, dusting myself off. Susan and Martin landed nearby and also rose.
"Nice," Susan said. She bounced up in the air experimentally, and smiled when her descent was slowed. "Very cool. Then we drink more to climb out?"
"Should make that slope a piece of cake," I said. "But we'll need to move fast. Potion will last us maybe twenty minutes."

Changes Chapter 17, Page 152-153


One of the more alert guards tried the same trick, but Martin saw him coming, aimed the little pistol, and shot him in the leg. The man screamed and fell down as the truck picked up speed. Susan stomped the pedal flat, and metal and razor wire screamed as she drove through a section of the fencing and out onto the open valley floor. She immediately turned it toward our escape point, and the truck began to bounce and rattle as it raced away from the facility.
After that, it was simple.
We went back to our ascension point, drank our watered-down flying potions, and bounded up the rocky face of the valley wall like mountain goats. Or possibly squirrels. Either way, it made the eighty-degree incline feel about as difficult to handle as a long stairway.
"Harry," Susan said, panting, as we reached the top. "Would you burn that truck for me?"

Changes Chapter 17, Page 163-164