Duncan leaned back and rested on his ax handle, breathing hard, wiping sweat from his forehead, and he surveyed his men. They were all hard at work, some chopping trees, others carrying them and lining them up beside each other, and others were binding the logs to each other with thick ropes, creating rafts.

Duncan grabbed one end of his tree while Anvin grabbed the other, a log about fifteen feet long, and they hoisted it, surprisingly heavy, onto their shoulders. They marched through the muddy banks of the Thusius and dropped it in a pile by the river’s edge.

Sprayed by the gushing currents of the river, Duncan stood and examined his handiwork. That log had been the final piece needed for his impromptu raft. All up and down the banks of the Thusius, his men were engaged in the same activity, dozens of rafts being hastily erected, all of them preparing. It would be a great army moving downriver.

Duncan examined the gushing currents of the Thusius, and he wondered if his boat would hold. Yet he knew this was the only way, if he were to get all of his men to Kos undetected. He turned and saw the last of the rafts being tied, and he knew the time had come.

Seavig stepped up beside him, flanked by several men and, hands on his hips, looked downriver.

“Will they hold?” Duncan asked, surveying the rafts.

Seavig nodded.

“I’ve spent more time on sea than land,” he replied. “Not to worry. If it’s one thing my people understand, it is water. Those rafts may look shoddy, but they are secure. That is Esephan twine, stronger than any Volis rope. And those logs may seem small, but don’t be fooled: the Red Pine of the Thusius is the hardiest in the world. It may bend, but will never give.”

Duncan looked at his legions of men, battle-hardened, but few of them sailors. The rafts were slippery, with not much to hold onto, and the men wore armor, too easy for them to sink. Seavig was used to leading men at sea, but in Duncan’s eyes, the conditions were far from ideal.

“How far to Kos?” Duncan asked.

Seavig nodded to the horizon.

“You see those mountains?”

Duncan looked out and on the horizon he saw the jagged, white peaks rising impossibly high, disappearing into the clouds, higher than any mountain should ever reach. From the looks of them, they appeared to be days away.

“If the current flows,” Seavig replied, “we may reach the base in a day. That is, if we all make it.”

Seavig gave him a concerned look.

“Advise your men to stay in the center of the rafts; the Thusius teems with creatures that make those we left behind seem pleasant. Above all, have them avoid the swirls.”

“The swirls?” Duncan asked, not liking the sound of it.