And at that moment, the drumming hit their ears with such force that it felt like their heads were about to split open. The enemies had crept up unnoticed, along secret paths known only to those who had explored the horrifying sewers of Mainor in every direction. Kairu leapt up, grabbing the hilt of his sword, but immediately realized that against a horde of humanoid grotesques, armed with a mountain of rusting iron, they didn’t stand a chance. The best option was clear.

  "Go!" he rasped and instantly dove. A crossbow bolt hissed through the water beside him.

  Woody reacted instantly, diving into the depths. They met at the entrance to the drainage pipe, and Kairu went in first, swimming into the darkness through the black cylinder.

  Now he swam much more slowly, moving his arms lazily, calculating every stroke. Reaching out before him, he calmly cut through the water, gently pushing himself forward with his legs. Foot by foot, the exit grew closer, while the air in his lungs vanished, and Kairu knew: if he held out to the very end, he wouldn’t have the strength to turn back.

  Freedom was close, but, as is often the case… life’s a lousy thing. Kairu was reminded of this once again when he passed a small side branch of the pipe, veering into darkness, and crashed full speed into a new obstacle: a rusty grate through which the sewage flowed.

  That was perhaps the worst blow. Kairu didn’t realize what had happened at first, began tugging at the grate, but it held firm, and his air was almost gone. His lungs tightened, using up their last reserves, and he no longer had the strength to return.

  Now Kairu was truly afraid.

  His senses sharpened to the limit, and driven by the adrenaline of panic, he shot backward, slicing through the water like an arrow. There had to be a way out, and he was ready to search for it until his jaw reflexively opened and he gasped. He darted past a stunned Woody, dove into a small side passage, and swam forward, pushing through the narrow pipe. Something rumbled around him: valves, filters, and pumps working to push water toward the outlet. His lungs contracted to the limit, there was not a speck of air left, and his vision darkened. He couldn’t take it anymore—he gulped water, choking, feeling it fill his body. Suffocation came fast, and fear and frantic, panicked agony forced him to twist inside the pipe and shoot upward. A pressurized water jet launched him, and he saw the bright light of the stars and moon. With one final, automatic effort, he surfaced and surrendered to the waves, coughing violently, struggling to breathe.

  The sensation was horrifying. For a few seconds, he went blind, and among the chaotic thoughts flashing through his mind came one: This is it. Death.

  Then a torrent of water burst from his body, and he began breathing weakly, losing consciousness even as he flailed in the water. But passing out was not an option. And Kairu fought his way up. He sank and resurfaced several times, until he could regain control of his senses and began spitting and breathing with desperate intensity.

  Finally, he managed to lie on his back and, slowly helping himself with his arms, turned to see where the current had brought him. Somewhere nearby there was a bubbling sound. Woody was coughing violently as he swam toward him.

  "Ugh! Damn! Aaah…" he vomited heavily right into the water. He was pale and barely stayed afloat, so Kairu had to swim closer and help push him toward the shore. The bank was near—a tiny strip of land, covered with snow, overgrown with thick, withered reeds. Beyond it, a rocky ridge rose to the foundation of the city wall, and that wall loomed above them, dark against the star-filled sky, appearing endlessly tall. They crawled ashore and collapsed into the grass, onto a cold patch of wet ground where the water had washed away the snow. It was dark and quiet. Unusually quiet.

  The assault was over. The pirates had once again surrounded the city.

  Kairu wheezed, using his last strength to pull out of the icy water his legs in boots, from which streams flowed. The fact that his lungs were burning, his fingers barely moved, and his body painfully thawed from the frost—all of it was trivial compared to the fact that he could once again breathe the fresh air of Aktida after the terrible stench of the sewers. Never had that musty, smoky wind seemed so sweet to Kairu, and never had he thought so deeply about how good it is just to be alive and to breathe. He was free, for the first time since the beginning of the siege.

  Woody, muttering every word from the extensive vocabulary of thieves and cobblers under his breath, spat out water and silt, poured water from his nose and ears. Then he groaned helplessly and collapsed next to Kairu. Life was returning. Kairu suddenly realized how cold he was.

  "Woody…" he whispered hoarsely, startled by the rasp in his own voice. What if it was pneumonia?

  "What?"

  "Keep your voice down. There might be patrols nearby, and anyway, we’re not safe yet. We need to get out of here, fast."

  "We’ve got time." Woody rolled onto his back. "Let me catch my breath at least…"

  "You can catch it on the other side!" Kairu hissed, somehow finding the strength to get up on all fours. He checked whether he still had the energy to swim across the river. Looking back, he gauged the distance—it was about a quarter mile. Luckily, the snow clouds had cleared, the night was bright, and the forest line to the east was clearly visible. The wind carried the smell of food cooking over campfires; the scent of people, iron, and blood. And torches. Patrols were close.

  Kairu froze, trying to catch his breath and relax his muscles. A quarter mile… In summer, in the village, in warm water, without all this iron weighing him down, he could’ve easily swum a mile. But this was different.

  His thoughts were interrupted by voices. Very close above them, along a path that ran between the riverside thickets and a rocky embankment that shielded the wall's foundation, curses were being shouted in an unknown language, and mixed in were words in a familiar tongue:

  "You sure you heard voices from down here?" The first voice spoke with a tone of venomous sarcasm. "Really? Hard to believe. Maybe one of ours stole a bottle from the officers and is partying by the river. Not that there’s much to party about. The city’s still standing, and we’ve all frozen our asses off sitting on this damn field."

  "Stop talking nonsense!" snapped the second. "I know what I heard. You’re the officer, figure it out. My job was just to report it. And I’m telling you, the voice wasn’t one of ours. It had that cityfolk accent, I heard it clearly."

  "What would cityfolk be doing here?" the first asked mockingly. "What, they grew wings and flew over the wall, then decided to rest down here? Yeah, sure. You’re a real comedian, but if there’s nothing here, I’ll hang you for waking me up. I was dreaming of Estega from Orinde…"

  "The admiral and the other officers won’t let you. There won’t be anyone left to fight if every commander starts hanging corsairs over dreams of Estega."

  "Then I’ll throw you into the river and tell the others you were drunk and fell in. Thought you were a codfish or something… Ha-ha!"

  "You’re the codfish. If I were a fish, I’d be a shark!"

  The next moment, the reeds above the fugitives parted. Kairu jumped up in a flash, Woody a heartbeat later. Up to the last second, they had hoped the patrol would pass by without noticing them, but now they reacted far faster than the massive pirates, who stood frozen, eyes bulging in shock. They were both hulking, hairy brutes in rough armor with yataghans at their belts, reeking so strongly they could be smelled a mile away, and each holding an arquebus.

  Before either pirate could roar or lift his weapon, Kairu grabbed Woody’s shoulder and jumped back into the icy current. The Ilvion didn’t freeze over, but it came close, and when they plunged into its depths, it burned worse than fire. Bullets followed them even underwater. The wild gunfire thudded dully through the river, lead whizzed inches from their bodies, forcing them to move. No more conserving strength now, Kairu surged forward with everything he had, staying beneath the surface as much as possible.

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  When he finally surfaced for a breath, he had just enough time to glance back: the western bank was swarming with pirates, firing wildly into the water. More were rushing in with torches, but their bullets no longer reached. The stars and moon lit the fugitives' path, and though the eastern shore was still far, Kairu and Woody, buoyed by success, swam on, coughing up water and laughing with the joy and intoxicating sense of freedom that filled them.

  ***

  On the bank, about fifty people were shouting and raging. The walls of Mainor came alive again, rocks rained down from them, and the corsairs had to retreat to their embankments. The pirate camp was in turmoil; the soldiers were confused, and the officers furious.

  "So now what?" one of the patrolmen asked quietly, watching the fugitives disappear into the distance. "‘Flew in through the air’… Well, there you go, chief. What now? How do we catch those two?"

  "What bothers me more is where they came from," muttered the second pirate, mostly to himself. Then aloud: "Nothing."

  "Nothing?! You think this is fine? You fool, they’re crossing the Ilvion! They’ll bring back an army and we’re finished under Mainor! You know what Cassander will do to us when he finds out?"

  "He already knows. The whole camp’s yelling about it…"

  "You think I’m an idiot?" the soldier hissed, staring into his eyes. "You think I don’t know Cassander isn’t even here?"

  "Quiet!" The officer was genuinely alarmed. "Are you out of your mind? That’s a state secret! How do you even…"

  "From reliable sources. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that he hasn’t been with us since Nalvin. I don’t know who’s running this operation, but I’d bet even he’s licking the admiral’s boots. And it’s the admiral who’ll have our heads, trust me."

  "Listen closely," the officer said very quietly. "Mark my words: if you even whisper that to anyone else, they’ll get rid of you, and damn the laws. No one must know Cassander isn’t under Mainor. That’s number one. Number two: if Cassander doesn’t come back—and he’s up against someone as strong as he is, so it could go either way—then whoever’s sitting in the top tent will still be admiral. To everyone… Fine. But if we just sit here, we’ll be hanged before dawn."

  "Exactly what I’ve been telling you!"

  "The Ilvion’s wide, and the current’s pulling them off course. They haven’t even swum a quarter of the way. Let’s hurry, the captains have ways to drag those two out from underground. Time’s running out."

  ***

  Neither Kairu, nor Woody, nor the ordinary soldier of the pirate army knew that the generals of Cassander’s army always took precautions before launching an attack. Mainor was the perfect mousetrap for Aktida’s soldiers, and no one could even imagine a way to escape it; but if such a thing did happen, and the fugitive tried to use the river, the pirates were prepared. In a separate tent, in a muddy pit, they kept their pet in chains, a victim of Saelin’s biological experiments. This creature could pick up any trail on land and easily track prey in the water, its element. Today, trained on humans, it was sent out to hunt for the first time.

  ***

  The eastern shore was already close when Kairu felt something catching up with him. In the icy water, his limbs were numb and barely moved, his body felt like a block of ice. His fingers wouldn’t respond; he swam almost on autopilot, looking only forward and trying not to think about the hundreds of feet of depth below, or how one wrong move could mean never escaping the abyss. Only a desperate thirst for life pushed him toward the slowly approaching shore.

  At first, everything was fine. Their limbs began to go numb as they reached midstream, drifting with the current. Mainor was far behind, now just a dark mass with rare lights in the windows and towers. They swam, acutely aware of their solitude in the endless water, clenching their teeth, barely enduring the grueling pace. Even their thoughts seemed frozen, Kairu couldn’t think of anything but a hearth and fire, when something touched his leg.

  Something dark, fast as lightning, caught up with them in the water and now tried to grab their legs and drag them under. Woody felt it too: he suddenly screamed and recoiled, nearly choking. In the next moment, Kairu realized the unknown creature had grabbed his shin: his leg suddenly grew heavy, and something pulled him downward, preventing him from swimming.

  The shore was barely fifty yards away. Kairu thrashed desperately in the water, trying to shake off the invisible creature; no longer holding back, he screamed hoarsely, gasped, choked, his head going under, barely resurfacing. His muscles were leaden, he felt he could barely swim, and if their pursuer didn’t give up, he wouldn’t make it.

  The current carried them somewhere, not closer to land. Kairu finally managed to free his leg, swam to Woody, and both rushed forward as fast as they could. Several times they felt the creature slipping beneath them, missing its strikes. Ilvion was wide, and even in summer, it was a challenge for experienced swimmers to cross; in winter, only the strongest could make it. Kairu was exhausted and thought he was close to give up, when suddenly, solid ground appeared beneath his feet.

  His legs barely moved; they began to run through the shallows, first waist-deep, then knee-deep. Ahead, the spreading trees of the Enchanted Forest rose silently.

  Only a dozen feet remained to solid land when something massive, heavy, incredibly strong, and lightning-fast lunged at him from behind, struck, and knocked him face-first into the water. Taken by surprise, Kairu gasped and choked on a mix of water, mud, and silt, his face buried in sand, flailing wildly as slippery claws gripped his throat. He wanted to scream, spit, call for help, but could only gurgle and rasp, struggling to reach the sword at his belt.

  Dark rings clouded his vision when his hand found the hilt. He stabbed upward blindly. The blade hit something, and he felt the creature writhe in agony. The massive body slid off him; he broke free of the water and rushed toward Woody, who was barely crawling ashore nearby. He turned sharply, trembling as if with fever, just in time to see something that resembled a giant skeletal sea rat the size of a large boar, with a terrifying snarling muzzle, long claws, and a tail thrashing through the water.

  The beast was unbelievably fast. Before Kairu could properly see it in the darkness, shake off the water, or move his frozen fingers, it charged. Woody stumbled aside, wildly swinging his sword. He was shaking, Kairu himself swayed from fatigue and barely dodged the lightning-fast leap. The shore stank of wet fur. Water dripped into Kairu's eyes, splashed from his boots, hampering movement. The rat was unbothered, spinning in place, shaking itself, baring its teeth, lashing its tail.

  But there were two of them. Kairu gripped his sword, bitterly wishing it were his father's blade. Woody flanked from the other side, stepping onto the damp sand partially covered with snow, where foamy tongues of the river lapped. Sword in hand, he prepared to strike.

  The rat lashed its tail, which seemed to move independently of the body. There was only a short whistle, then Woody screamed wildly, and Kairu watched in horror as his friend was tossed aside. The rat spun with one leap, darted at him, hissed, and jumped back, dodging the sword Woody flailed with. Kairu lunged toward him, cursing his frozen limbs and the cold. Life was returning; blood began to flow again, but it brought searing pain.

  The rat turned like a gray lightning bolt. Before Kairu could brace for another attack, it swept his legs with its tail and leapt onto him, pinning him with its claws. Woody crawled slowly to the side, searching in the water for his sword. Kairu managed to twist, freed one leg, and began kicking furiously wherever he could reach. The rat’s grip loosened for just a moment. Kairu twisted out, grabbed a handful of snow-mixed sand, and threw it in the creature’s eye. It screamed in reply and slashed him, a claw tore through his shirt and chest, drawing blood. But he was already stabbing upward, blindly, into the gaping, toothy, drooling maw; he hit the rat’s throat, the neck, the eyes, trying all the while to crawl out and rise.

  The tail struck him square in the stomach, with such strength that his vision darkened, and he lost his breath. The tail kept battering him, and he barely managed to turn over and shield his head and groin. Then the blows stopped. He groaned and pushed up, gulping air. Two silhouettes loomed ahead. Woody had collapsed again, clutching a riverside tree and dropping his sword. The beast had energy to spare and kept fighting.

  Kairu stood. Took a shaky step, then steadied himself, gasping through clenched teeth. Limping, he moved toward the rat, and just as it left Woody, nearly unconscious from pain, he struck again. The rat leapt away, began circling slowly, glaring at him with its one remaining eye—blood gushed from the other. Kairu struck again; it dodged again, running faster now, sensing its enemy was weakening.

  "Chiron!" came a battle cry. Steel flashed, a spear strike hurled the creature aside. But the rat’s hide had toughened over the years, and it wasn’t so easy to pierce. The beast was still alive. Rolling over and limping on three legs, it stared in disbelief at the new combatant.

  Darkness thickened. Clouds veiled the moon, and Kairu could only make out an armored rider with a lance, galloping through the snow toward the rat.

  The beast leapt at him, trying to bite his side, but the rider veered and raised the spear. This time, the strike hit the rat’s throat. Blood sprayed onto the snow, the beast flipped over and fell on its back with a spasmodic gasp, but suddenly lunged and sank its teeth into the horse’s side. The rider screamed as if he had been stabbed. The horse reared, the spear blow flung the rat into the snow, and a hoof smashed it into the trunk of a mighty riverside oak. The creature was still alive, but the last thing it heard was the cry, "Chiro-o-on!", as a well-aimed spear pinned it to the ground, and its eyes closed forever.