The night the defences of Petrescov finally went down, fire and ash fell like rain. The streets and sewers filled with panicking citizens trying to get out before the soldiers overran the city. Militias turned into gangs, and gangs turned into corpses as the men in red and black marched in through the gaps their siege engines and cannons had made in the city walls.
Inside the Governor’s Residence, the explosions barely penetrated the frozen silence. The rooms that had once resonated with life and music now sat, dark and waiting for the walls to come down.
Andrei and Matya Lyubinov stood at their bedroom window looking out over the burning city, holding hands.
‘Perhaps we should never have come here,’ said Matya. ‘After all these years, perhaps we would have been safer at home in St Treyasburg.’
In the distance, the sound of a train rushing headlong out of the city towards the plains sounded like the distant roar and screech of an angry gryffon.
Matya passed her free hand over her very pregnant stomach.
‘Felix,’ she whispered.
‘We must get you out,’ said Andrei. ‘You must both be saved.’
For a few moments more they stood at the window, just breathing. Then Andrei turned away.
‘The sewers,’ he said. ‘It’s your only hope.’
‘Our only hope,’ said Matya. ‘Don’t you dare try and do the better thing on me now.’
‘Never.’ Andrei kissed her hand. ‘Downstairs, quickly.’
‘Wait!’ Matya cried. ‘Where’s Maks. Maks? Maks!’
‘Mum,’ said a voice. Matya turned and saw her twelve year old son standing in the doorway. His brown hair was falling over his eyes, and he was clutching his shirt in both hands. Matya ran over and pulled him into a fierce hug.
‘You stay with me,’ she said. ‘You stay close to me, and everything will be all right.’
Maks nodded silently.