The water under the trunk suddenly frothed and a monster emerged. It was enormous, covered all over in a greenish-brown pattern of tear-shaped scales. It gobbled and squelched, obediently following the vixen’s order, and swam, churning up the water, straight at the Prophet.

“Is that…?” Addario Bach swallowed. “Is that an illusion too?”

“Not exactly,” said Geralt. “It’s a vodyanoy!” He yelled at Pudlorak and the deckhands. “She’s bewitched a vodyanoy and set it on us! Boathooks! All hands to the boathooks!”

The vodyanoy broke the surface alongside the ship and they saw the flat, algae-covered head, the bulging fishy eyes and the conical teeth in its great maw. The monster struck the side furiously, once, twice, making the whole ship shudder. When the crew came running up with boathooks it fled and dived, only to emerge with a splash beyond the stern a moment later, right by the rudder blade. Which it caught in its teeth and shook until it creaked.

“It’ll break the rudder!” Pudlorak bellowed, trying to stab the monster with a boathook. “It’ll break the rudder! Grab the halyards and raise it! Drive the bastard away from the rudder!”

The vodyanoy chewed and jerked the rudder, oblivious to the cries and jabs of the boathooks. The blade gave way and a chunk of wood was left in the creature’s teeth. It had either decided that was enough or the she-fox’s spell had lost its force; suffice it to say that it dived and disappeared.

They heard the aguara barking from the bank.

“What next?” yelled Pudlorak, waving his arms. “What will she do next? Master Witcher!”

“By the Gods…” sobbed Kevenard van Vliet. “Forgive us for not believing… Forgive us for killing the little girl! Ye Gods, save us!”

They suddenly felt a breeze on their faces. The pennant on the Prophet—previously hanging pitifully—fluttered and the boom creaked.

“It’s opening out!” Fysh shouted from the bow. “Over there, over there! A broad water, there’s no doubt it’s the river! Sail over there, skipper! Over there!”

The river channel was indeed beginning to widen and something looking like broad water stretched beyond the green wall of reeds.

“We did it!” called Cobbin. “Ha! We’ve won! We’ve escaped from the swamp!”

“By the mark one,” yelled the leadsman. “By the mark o-o-one.”

“Haul her over!” roared Pudlorak, shoving the helmsman away and carrying out his own order. “Shallooows!”

The Prophet Lebioda’s prow turned towards the offshoot bristling with pneumatophores.

“Where are you going?” Fysh bellowed. “What are you doing? Sail for the broad water. Over there! Over there!”

“We can’t. There’s a shallow there. We’ll get stuck! We’ll sail to the broad water along an offshoot, it’s deeper here.”

They heard the aguara bark again. But didn’t see her.

Addario Bach tugged Geralt’s sleeve.