"General Eyring has only just arrived and is not receiving visitors. Do you know the password to the command post?"

  "What command post? Curse it, forgive me, Aktos!" Zaruok burst out, stamping his feet in fury. "Eyring and that... Geonar... they came to the temple and took away a woman and a child who were under our protection! I must speak to the general at once—let me through!"

  The sentry listened calmly, smiling benignly.

  "What’s all that noise?" a composed voice asked, and Geonar appeared on the wall. "Do we have visitors, Arthur?"

  "He claims to be Zaruok, prior of some temple," the guard replied. "He’s demanding an audience with General Eyring..."

  "You!" Zaruok screeched, spitting in rage. "Child-snatcher! I swear by all the underworlds, by Ariman and Naurg, I will get to you! Justice will find you! Give up the woman and the boy, may you burn forever!"

  "Interesting," Geonar said slowly, peering over the wall. "Very interesting, Zaruok. Are you telling me Valena and Elliar are no longer at the temple? That’s the reason for your… visit?"

  "Three sets of tracks lead to your gates!" the prior shrieked. "I know you took them! You wanted them for yourselves, to keep them in this hellish Fortress! But I didn’t climb here in vain, I marched all night, and I’ll take them back from this nest of abominations! I have the late King of Aktida’s orders to care for the queen and prince!"

  "He’s quite the tracker," Dalid remarked with some respect as he stepped onto the parapet. "I’d never have thought a man of his size had the strength for such a climb. The way from the temple to the Fortress takes four hours… My sympathies, Geonar—you haven’t even had time to change. So he claims we abducted Valena and Elliar? Nonsense, Zaruok."

  "Liar!" roared the prior, clenching his fists. "I know what you are!"

  Dalid smirked.

  "Arthur, let him in." With those words, he strode unhurriedly down the stairs into the courtyard. "Geonar, have you seen Corporal Frans? The one from the fugitives of Petista?"

  "He’s inspecting the batch brought in last night. In the eighth wing."

  "I’ll pay him a visit," Dalid nodded. "Geonar, for Aktos’ sake, meet this… prior, take him to your office, give him tea, and order your adjutant to summon a council in the meeting chamber. Understood?"

  Geonar saluted and withdrew, while Dalid walked along the iron fence, past sheds and warehouses, over a road littered with construction debris. In the distance echoed horns and whistles, the whinnying of horses, the clatter and crash of the shooting ranges. Above, at the fourth tier built into the slope, construction raged—workers hauling carts of stone and timber, scaffolding crowded with men erecting fortifications.

  The eighth wing of the testing hangars lay at the far end of the road, opposite one of the giant towers of the command post. Frans was there, wrapped in a heavy coat, shouting at soldiers as they fired at targets with new rifles designed from blueprints brought by spies from Tepei-Kuon. Seeing the general, the former innkeeper went quiet, then quickly bowed and doffed his cap. Dalid wasted no time.

  "Corporal, is the order carried out?"

  "Yes, Your Excellency, General Eyring," Frans straightened. "Almost finished. I must say, Saelin’s laboratories are doing wonders. This new arsenal is far superior to the old."

  "Then wrap it up, have the men crate everything, and send it to storage," Dalid ordered. "Then get to the gates. Soon Queen Valena and Prince Elliar will be arriving. Understood?"

  "The same prince you and Lord Geonar used to visit at Tornir’s temple?" Frans allowed himself a touch of familiarity. It was hard for him to get used to the fact that his old acquaintance was now a general, while he himself had only earned a corporal’s uniform.

  "Exactly," Dalid nodded, not clarifying how Frans knew. "You will greet them as befits nobility, give them a short tour so they understand where they’ve come, and then escort them to the guest quarters. After the council, I’ll visit them myself. Make sure they are fed and given proper rooms. Clear?"

  Having finished, Dalid turned away and hurried to the lift. The platform, set in motion by a system of pulleys and cables, carried him three tiers up, to a narrow mountain ledge, from where he followed a path to the doors leading into a corner tower.

  Fifteen minutes later, the general stepped into the council chamber. It was a round hall with a high ceiling, a circular table at its center, covered with stacks of papers, inkwells, and quills. Some of the chairs around the table were already occupied. Dalid saw the overseers of the testing hangars, laboratories, and stations; the commandant of the residential complex; military advisors; chiefs of intelligence; and commanders of cavalry and infantry regiments. All greeted Dalid respectfully, but he did not rush to begin. He sat at the table, pulled a folder of reports closer, and began reading, trying to focus on the tactics and strategy of the coming offensive.

  Gradually, more people arrived, filling the empty seats. Soon Geonar appeared, his face heavy with weariness, and dropped into a chair at Dalid’s right.

  "This Zaruok could drive anyone mad," he whispered. "I only had time to dash into my quarters, change, and come straight here…"

  "Has he calmed down?"

  "A little. I promised that the two of us would grant him an audience after the council. That seemed to ease him somewhat."

  "Good, then," Dalid replied with a genial smile. At the door appeared the king of the centaurs, who moved aside a chair and stood beside the table. Then came a man Dalid did not know—a courier of the resistance from Mainor. Also present was the envoy of Vaimar, two Asternians—old friends of Dalid’s, Jeremy and Folle Conenti. Among the last to arrive was a druid, the chieftain of a southern clan with whom an alliance had recently been struck, along with several representatives of the Mages’ and Fighters’ Guilds.

  At last, all were gathered and seated. Dalid glanced at the clock against the wall—eight o’clock in the morning. Time to begin.

  This day will be remembered in history, he thought, rising from his chair.

  "Gentlemen! I am pleased to welcome the guests who have come to the Fortress for the first time, and glad to see that all of you have brought reports of your work—today we will need them. I have gathered you here to discuss a matter of utmost importance, one that concerns all of us, for which we have labored all this time in the Mountain Fortress. Construction of the main defensive blocks is complete, ready for use should the enemy discover our location. Supply lines for all types of resources have been established, and factories are being built to provide our armies with munitions at the fastest possible pace. I believe the time has come to consider a tentative date and strategy for our future offensive against Tepei-Kuon."

  At these words, a murmur of agitation swept the hall.

  "Let us begin with the reports. Commandant of the residential corps?"

  "All is calm, Lord Eyring," the commandant, a mustached Kald, rose to his feet. "The soldiers are in full readiness. We await the start of war with impatience—drills and training take place daily, so they will prove themselves well in battle. Reinforcements and volunteers from Vaimar continue to arrive each day."

  "Scouts?" Dalid asked, nodding and making a note in his ledger.

  "A standard sweep of twenty miles around the fortress," one of the men replied, rising. "In the mountains east of the pass, goblin counterintelligence was spotted—harmless. No signs of surveillance around the ruins of Petista. The resistance has begun building fortifications. Saelin has advanced construction of the Barrier in the Olmaer mountains by another six miles, but our calculations show the work will not be complete before summer."

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  "Good," Dalid approved. "Supplies and resources?"

  "Trade with Vairad and Harkon is established, shipments will arrive weekly," reported the warehouse overseer. "We have provisions enough for a six-month siege of the fortress or for extended field operations. If needed, we can allocate funds to double the shipments. As for resources, the quarries deliver granite and basalt as usual, but we placed a major order for iron with Vairad, due in two weeks. Until then, construction has slowed."

  "A pity," Dalid said, "but not critical. What of research? Are all laboratories in order?"

  The chief engineer stood.

  "We have recovered invaluable data on the production of vulcanite plasma, but we do not yet know how to apply it to firearms. Saelin’s scientists, however, have unlocked this secret. Our spies have not yet managed to bring copies of the new blueprints from Mainor; they are exceedingly difficult to obtain. Still, with the latest schematics we acquired, we have increased the rate of fire of muskets and reduced their weight. This will ease the soldiers’ burden."

  "Congratulations," Dalid smiled. "And now—the state of the Fortress pleases me. What reports come from the resistance center in Mainor?"

  "Saelin is preparing actively for war," replied a man seated on the far side of the table. "He is reinforcing positions in Surrell, Mainor, and Asternia, fearing attack from those directions. In addition, a dense coastal defense system has been erected along the southern and southwestern shores; shipyards are being built, and his fleet is being rapidly rearmed. Saelin’s troops occupied the Enchanted Forest but soon withdrew, leaving only a small garrison on its borders. Furthermore, our agents infiltrated Boreain and established contact with Mainor. So far, we have only one detailed report—that in that city, Saelin is conducting his most secret research. He has acquired aerostats—flying machines. No working prototypes have yet been seen, only blueprints and diagrams. Copies will arrive with the next dispatch—one month from now."

  "Anything further?" Dalid carefully noted in his ledger.

  "Yes. This is the most important intelligence we have gathered. It comes directly from Siegfried Maclevirr, who in turn heard it at a general assembly from Saelin himself. A large-scale offensive against Vaimar is planned for June. And this offensive will not be commanded by Orwell Cassander."

  The council gasped. Even Dalid could not contain himself.

  "Incredible," Geonar breathed, rising to his feet. "Permission, Lord Eyring?… From Saelin, this is either the most foolish move imaginable or a brilliant stratagem that I fail to grasp. Cassander is his finest commander!"

  "He has been given another task," the resistance man replied. "He has once again assembled the crew of the Charybdis and set out to sea. The purpose of this mission is unknown; all we know is that Saelin entrusted him with a special, secret commission. That is all the intelligence we have at present… A fuller report is in this file." He held up a cardboard folder.

  "Thank you," Dalid nodded. "Well, that simplifies matters. Unless Saelin has found a greater strategist—which I doubt—then half the victory is already in our hands. All those who have already given their reports are dismissed. You—stay," he added, indicating the courier from the capital.

  Several people left the chamber.

  "Lord Geonar?" asked Dalid.

  "Yes…" the commander muttered, blinking. "Let us move on to the offensive itself. We have already developed a preliminary scheme, which we will adjust according to the reports of reconnaissance. We should begin on two fronts: from the northwest, where the first target will be Petista, and from the northeast, where I propose that the primary task should be to capture Asternia and the Enchanted Forest."

  "I see," said Dalid.

  "We’ll distract Saelin’s attention," Geonar suggested. "Hugo Hellerson and Ringus Felm are due to arrive at the beginning of March, and with them will come enormous reinforcements… Asternia is a stronger bastion than Petista, capable of withstanding a long siege. King Levkir, will your centaurs assist in reclaiming the Enchanted Forest?"

  "Of course," the centaur confirmed. "We have enough strength…"

  "Better preserve it and don’t rush headlong into danger," Geonar remarked. "Jeremy, what news from Vairad?"

  "Oh, there is good news," Jeremy Conenti brightened. "As far as I understand, Jake Farian has very ambitious plans for Aktida, but for now, he has agreed to share forces with us and to provide supplies and resources—free of charge. The vanguard has already arrived, numbering five thousand warriors. What all this will lead to will become clear after the offensive begins."

  "Not bad," said Dalid. "We will direct the vanguard to support the northeast. If we are victorious and seize Asternia, then King Levkir’s centaurs will continue the advance along the mountains, to bypass Boreain and enter the Eastern Province from the east."

  "Meanwhile, while Saelin’s attention is distracted, the Mountain Fortress will strike a single powerful blow against the Western Province," Geonar proposed. "We must sweep all positions to Rheinvall, then launch a massive assault on Mainor. But there will also be a third front…"

  "The sea!" said Dalid.

  "Exactly!" Geonar smiled triumphantly. "In March, Derelsfjord will be freed from ice, and then we will have the opportunity to use Harkon port and the temple of Tornir as temporary bases. We’ll repay Saelin in his own coin. With Cassander absent, the fleet in Surrell has surely been reorganized. With Vaimar’s help, we will launch an attack on Nalvin from there. If Mainor finds itself besieged, it cannot hold out… Levkir, your centaurs have experience fighting arachnids—so you shall lead the reconquista of the Eastern Province. After Mainor falls, all three fronts will converge at the walls of the Citadel. There, Saelin will meet his end."

  Dalid cast a glance at the messenger from the capital.

  "The insurgents will aid in liberating Mainor," the man replied. "We will bring you the keys to the city on the very first day of the siege, should it take place. There are about two hundred of us—that will suffice in any case…"

  "Then it is settled," Dalid summed up. "Congratulations, gentlemen, for now you are dismissed. I will deal with the reports and in a few days call another council, where we shall address more detailed plans of the offensive… and, I think, set a definite date in early March. All right, let’s go," he said wearily to Geonar once the others had left. "Where is that Zaruok?.."

  ***

  Standing in the open gates of the Fortress, Frans carefully stuffed his pipe. Dawn was breaking, the sky a murky gray, and the factories were finishing their work, for during the day any smoke emissions were forbidden, lest the Fortress be discovered by enemy scouts. Above the gates, harpies flitted and shrieked, while the sentries laughed, tossing them chunks of meat that the creatures snatched midair. To be honest, from the first day of his stay in the Fortress, Frans had never trusted these beings, though the attempt to tame them was at least original.

  He noticed Valena and Elliar from afar, but did not let it show. Instead, he lit up and cast a melancholy gaze at the mountains to the left and the dizzying drop into the valley on the right. The woman approached slowly, hesitantly, clutching tightly to a bundle of blankets and rags. Aktos, what possessed her—to leave the hospitable temple of Tornir and come here, into this kingdom of iron and stone, of weapons and blood?

  "Sir! Is this the Mountain Fortress?"

  "Well, you could say that." The corporal smirked, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "The Mountain Fortress, my dear, is everything you see around you—and more besides. The Mountain Fortress is the underground cells in Mainor, Nalvin, and Asternia; it’s the contacts in Vairad and Harkon… But you have come to the gates of the main command post, the residence of generals and commanders."

  "And Zaruok?" Valena came closer, looking at him wearily and fearfully. "Is he here too? I saw him come this way, I followed right behind him…"

  "Don’t be afraid of him." Frans laughed quietly. "If you’ve come here, no one will harm the prince, Your Majesty… Valena. I cannot say that the short reign of your late husband was a Golden Age for Aktida, but still, my father taught me to respect royal regalia and honor traditions. So—I am entirely at your service."

  "Then let us go," Valena said firmly. "I must see Dalid Eyring once more and explain everything to him."

  "Let’s go," Frans agreed. "Into the warmth. Otherwise, the prince will catch a cold. February in the Olmaer mountains is no time for night strolls… Give me the pack and the boy; you can hardly stand on your feet. Just follow me."

  And Valena timidly stepped through the gates with Frans.

  She was struck by the clamor and din from all sides, by the throngs of workers and soldiers hurrying to and fro with tools and weapons in hand. They walked up the long ascent to the higher tiers, and Frans, in passing, told Valena all he knew about the structure of the Fortress—its watchtowers and powerful fortifications, its factories and workshops, its warehouses and testing grounds, covering in total nearly a hundred square miles. Valena could only listen in amazement. Even little Elliar in the corporal’s arms grew quiet, as if spellbound by his slow-flowing speech.

  They passed the exits from the quarries, crossing a strange structure on the road—a mound with many even wooden planks supporting long, thick metal strips. And Valena saw the thunder of a steam engine as a nightmarish monster slowly moved along the rails. A metal body with a chimney and a tiny cab on enormous wheels, and behind it, on the same wheels, a cart with coal and a cart with stones—this was the first true self-propelled machine with a steam engine.

  They passed the firing ranges and training grounds, which at this hour stood empty, entered the massive doors of the central entrance, and, after an enfilade of halls, emerged into a small cozy room, where Dalid awaited them. He had just endured a long conversation with Zaruok and had at last managed to secure his goodwill. The general rose to meet them, gazing wearily at the queen, who pressed her lips stubbornly together, her whole bearing saying: since I have come here, you will not send me back. The prince in her arms began crying again, blinking his black little eyes, and Dalid, looking at him, suddenly thought: how will all this end?.. And what will this boy grow into, and will he not become the first enemy of the new republic when he one day learns that he is the sole heir to the throne of Aktida, the last of the Winver dynasty? But there will be no return to monarchy… Or will twenty, thirty years change everything?

  For Petros was dead. And most of his unspoken ideas had died with him. What would become of the dream of revolution, when time tested its strength—that would not become clear for a long while yet…

  So, for now, there was no need to think of it. Dalid rose from his chair and stepped up to the queen, peering into the boy’s eyes. Yes, he was the spitting image of his father. The Winver dynasty had not ended.

  "Welcome home, Prince Elliar," Dalid said with a smile.