The battle raged below; from the outpost came the ceaseless thunder of shots, the hiss of arrows, the clash of swords and the crack of shields, the tramp of feet, the cries of the wounded and the dying. From here, there was only one way to escape the approaching death—upwards, through the ruins buried under heaps of massive stones, covered with ash and snow, through blocks of basalt, through tongues of long-frozen lava. Then the ruins ended, and the climb began along a steep mountain slope, where sometimes they had to cling to jagged rocks and scramble upward, risking a misstep that could break a leg or a neck. The moon shone brightly, illuminating the path, and the snow and ice glittered with a cold blue light.

  The same light that reminded of the Lake of Aktida.

  "Here," said Konrad, looking around. "I think this is the right place. There’s little chance anyone would deliberately climb up here to find it."

  Kairu turned his head. They were standing between cliffs, as high as they could go. Above them, sheer black walls rose on every side. From here, the ruins were almost invisible, but the boundless snowy plain stretched out below, and on the horizon lay the dark line of the Regerlim forest. Above, the bottomless black sky spread, studded with myriads of stars, torn to shreds by green ribbons of the northern lights.

  "It should be simple… if you’re a Seer," Konrad said with concern. "The Crossroad links two points at the distance you choose. That distance will always remain the same. A day passes here—exactly the same passes there. Choose the right distance, find the right point in your mind—just like when you look into the future. Darius will help you with that. Then use the Octarus to link the chosen point with the present moment."

  Kairu drew the Octarus from his breast and gripped the wooden tentacles of the squid with both hands. He shut his eyes, trying again to find the thread of time. There it was, stretched taut before his eyes like a string… He repeated the chosen span again and again, whispering the words, while at the same time aiming, trying to locate that day on the thread—and finally, he found it. His mind jerked, the thread slipped through his mental fingers, and it took him a few seconds to stabilize at the right point.

  "Got it," he said, trying to keep control of time in his mind while staying present in the real world.

  Now he had to build the bridge.

  He focused and sent the signal of his will into the Octarus. He felt wild energy suddenly burst into life inside his brain; there was so much of it that he grew hot. Part of it was within him, the other part was in the device he held, and an exchange pulsed between them. Kairu thought the ground shook beneath his feet. An unknown force circulated between his head and the Lake of Aktida, like in a resonator, growing stronger and stronger, until its concentrated stream grew too tight, and then suddenly burst outward, so violently that Kairu nearly fell, as though a furious gust of wind had slammed into his chest. The air vibrated, and the point on the thread of time, until now infinitely far away, suddenly began to draw near, as if the taut string bent, creating an impossible ring, moving toward the present. Kairu pulled at this string, carefully, slowly, pouring in all his will, and it seemed the Octarus helped him, steadying it in those moments when he nearly lacked the strength and was ready to let go, to let it snap back like a compressed spring. And then the chosen point was here, focused on the energy bursting from the Octarus before him, and space itself began to warp, opening a passage between times.

  "It’s done!" Konrad exclaimed in awe and delight.

  Kairu fell to his knees and opened his eyes. He was trembling, nauseous, his head spinning from the strain, and it took a great effort before he came to himself and raised his gaze. The air quivered on the platform before him, tiny sparks bursting from the void and instantly dying out.

  "By the devils," Konrad muttered in shock. "So that’s what it looks like…"

  Kairu slowly stood. They stood for a long while, mesmerized, watching the dance of sparks. Then Kairu shook off the stupor, rubbed his eyes, and looked at Konrad.

  "Good," Kairu said hoarsely, swallowing. "Thank you, Konrad. I think… Let’s go down. I want to say goodbye."

  ***

  They had already spotted, amid the chaos, those whom they had chased for so long, had recognized them, and rushed toward them, carving a path with their weapons, sparing neither friend nor foe.

  The battle raged on without pause; the weak had long since fallen, leaving the field to the strong, who endured any wound, who bled and still fought on, blades clashing again, drawing strength from the mournful metallic song. Steel sang, ruby rivers flooded the snow, corpses fell, the living stumbled over them, and the moon still shone proudly and mockingly from above, lighting the half-dark of the outpost’s inner courtyard. The fight spilled onto the second and third tiers, seethed on the stairways, from which the wounded and crippled tumbled down the steps with cries. Druids fought atop the fortress wall itself, hurling each other from the battlements. And the muskets had almost fallen silent. Only the newcomers fired now, goblins, and even they but rarely.

  Rodrigo shielded Demetra with his body, snarling, pouring into his blows all the rage and hatred he had felt since that first battle, when he had failed to protect her. Vengeance could never be enough, especially against these filthy creatures, Saelin’s mercenaries, whom he could kill endlessly. And he fought, striking their fanged faces, easily parrying their swords, gritting his teeth tighter when steel bit him, or a bullet lodged in his shoulder…

  And he waited. Demetra slowly rose into the air, arms outstretched in trance. She was calling for aid. Aid came almost immediately.

  The heavens flared, and from the gleaming silver cloud of the portal, wings spread like sails, came a deafening roar that shook the earth. The Daredevil appeared. He soared above the outpost walls, arching his long scaly neck, opening a maw that gleamed with rows of hundreds of teeth—and plunged downward, instantly discerning friend from foe. Viggo and Remiz screamed with everyone else, breaking from the steady rhythm of battle for a heartbeat, for both had long forgotten what it looked like when the last of the silver dragons entered the fray.

  The balance of the fight tipped toward the defenders of the fortress. Heartened by the unexpected protection, they fell upon the enemy with doubled strength. And the goblins, realizing that as long as the dragon lived, it was best not to cross Rodrigo Antan, hurled all their strength and bullets at the winged monster, whose single wing was the size of the entire courtyard.

  But there was another target, easy to reach and nearly defenseless. Two people fought on the staircase above, desperately crossing blades with the attacking druids. A skinny, ragged boy, and a red-haired girl who was clearly exhausted by the fight.

  To carry such a prize across thousands of miles, they first had to neutralize it.

  Janus rushed upward, lifting his musket as he ran.

  ***

  In the cellar, the fire still burned dimly, women and little druids pressed themselves to the walls, trembling and listening in fear to the sounds of battle coming from outside. Aok sat on his mat, staring into the void, tired and indifferent.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  "It’s done," said Kairu. "I’m leaving."

  He handed Yuf the Octarus. Yuf took it slowly, carefully, as though it were made of fragile crystal. He glanced at Kairu in surprise.

  "Hide it, Yuf," Kairu said. "I can’t take it with me. Hide it here, in case…" He swallowed. "In case things go wrong. When I come back—in a few days—I’ll find it. But if all goes well, just keep it until my return. Yuf…"

  The words caught in his throat.

  "I know you will win," Kairu rasped. "And there, in the past, I’ll try to do everything so that this battle never happens at all. But even if I fail in what I intend… at the very least, I’ll try to send you reinforcements."

  "Dawn is near," Yuf suddenly said quietly. Kairu looked at him in surprise.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "The battle is ending, too," Yuf explained with a sigh. "And then, when the sun rises… who knows what will happen? If you’ve decided, go. Don’t waste words. Only…"

  "What else?" Kairu ground his teeth. Yuf gave a hoarse laugh and gripped his hand:

  "Brother. Whatever madness you do—we’ll never know of it, we’ll get another future, neither worse nor better than this one. But try to combine your reckless bravery, your boundless altruism—and the brains, which, I know, Aktos didn’t withhold from you. Well, not entirely. You just haven’t yet gone out to sea alone, and that, you know, is no simple thing."

  "I know," Kairu said seriously. "But, Yuf, I am now the same age you were when you were already a double agent for Petros and Nubel, when you came back from your first expedition… I think I can manage. Trust me."

  "I do." Yuf squeezed his palm. "And still… one small piece of advice. No matter how much a man relies on himself, there are times when the help of a true friend is needed. You know that as well as I."

  Kairu nodded slowly. Yuf looked into his eyes encouragingly:

  "Take Rita with you."

  ***

  Konrad burst outside at the very moment the furious battle for the outpost neared its climax—and froze, crouching in shock and horror as he saw the dragon fight. The gigantic winged monster roared so loudly the walls shook, and it beat its wings with such force the wind could knock a man off his feet. With uncanny precision, it soared into the sky, dove down, skimmed low over the ground, suddenly shifted its wings, and seized in its jaws a druid from the Clan of Lynx, never once mistaking them for the Wolf Clan. What followed was a spectacle one could hardly bear to watch: the dragon would snap its head up and begin to crunch horribly with its teeth, chewing its prey, while streams of blood and shreds of clothing dripped from its fangs. At the same time, Daredevil’s tail acted no less efficiently, smashing enemies’ heads like a gigantic hammer. Only occasionally did stunned druids manage to strike it with spear or sword, but to the beast, such blows were little more than scratches.

  Konrad had seen something like this in the Temple of Tornir, but never on this scale, never so terrifyingly effective. He stood paralyzed only until a stray bullet whizzed past his ear and snapped him out of his stupor. Suddenly, he felt strength return to him, his old body filling with the energy of youth, a second wind opening within him, his hands once more gripping the sword firmly, as they had long ago when he trained at the Temple of Tornir, trying to learn to defend himself… His granddaughter, Rita, was fighting on the opposite side of the wall, and she was being pressed hard. In fact, she could be killed at any moment.

  The monk raced along the wall, bypassing ladders and tiers, clashing in lightning-fast duels with smugglers he passed. Their lynx-head belt buckles gave them away. They never detained him long, either dying when they rashly left an opening, or simply losing their balance. Konrad didn’t bother finishing them off. He ran forward and reached the place just in time.

  A level below, a filthy swine in armor with a broadsword at his belt was slowly raising a musket, aiming at his granddaughter.

  Konrad roared in fury and leapt forward, sword swinging. He was only a few seconds too late. The barrel, aimed at the girl’s legs, lifted by a couple of inches, and with a muffled crack and cloud of smoke, the bullet burst forth, flew a few feet, and lodged deep in the old man’s chest.

  He didn’t fall immediately. He merely swayed, his face still burning with rage and the will to protect the only family he had left in this world…

  Then something imperceptible flickered in his eyes and went out. Forever.

  He halted, his sword slipped from his weakening fingers and clattered down the steps into the blood-soaked courtyard, while he himself struggled for a few more seconds, until his legs no longer held him.

  And then time stopped—and in the same instant, galloped forward.

  Rita screamed. Loud, heart-rending, and though her cry was drowned in hundreds of others, it gave her strength. She struck the nearest druid with such fury that his sword shattered in half, and the blade carried on, meeting almost no resistance, spraying a crimson fountain, and his head flew aside.

  She shoved the fallen body away and leapt downward, straight into the heart of the battle, toward the gleaming, humming blades, toward her grandfather’s lifeless body on the steps and his killer from the Desert Lands.

  She screamed until her lungs burned, she wept, and in every blow she poured all her exhaustion, her pain, hatred, despair, and fury at a world that kept taking her loved ones away. Now the battle’s outcome depended on her, and her sword struck Janus like a slap across the face—but didn’t stop, it carried on in a furious dance. Now vengeance guided her hand, and she struck unerringly, displaying all the mastery honed through years of training and practice. She was ready to strangle this goblin with her bare hands, to claw out his eyes… but in her hand was a sword.

  Janus backed away, retreating up the steps, barely managing to deflect blows with his musket barrel, then at last snatched his broadsword from its sheath and shifted to offense, but too late. Before him was no longer a person, but a desperate being, a killing machine—and one second’s slip was enough. His left arm, hacked off and spraying blood, flew into the snow. The sword drove through his battered mail as if through butter, emerged on the other side, the fire in his eyes went out, and he collapsed like a helpless puppet onto the icy platform. Rita, mad with rage, kept hacking and slashing his corpse until the sword slipped from her weakening hand. Then she fell to her knees, shaking with muffled sobs, crawling upward, still unable to believe what had happened.

  In the distance, horns sounded their triumphant cry, the battle raged louder still, but Rita didn’t notice. Konrad was dead; his body lay in her arms, a trickle of blood staining the clear ice. Overhead, Daredevil beat his wings.

  ***

  Time stopped.

  In the tiny cellar, lit by the uneven glow of the hearth, where logs hissed and crackled, Aok and Yuf bent over the woman moaning in fever. Magic and potions failed, her leg had swollen even more, and it was clear the infection was spreading.

  Ashley… Ashley, we cannot help you.

  Too long without treatment, too late to act.

  Too little warmth, too few ingredients, and magical Runes.

  It must be cut.

  Do you hear, Ashley?..

  Ashley did not hear.

  Kairu slowly stepped out beneath the endless starry sky atop the dormitory roof. The Alaskrit warmed his belt, a backpack hung on his shoulders, and the Mark of Chiron at his neck. Nothing else was needed.

  Yuffilis and Aok had remained below. They knew Kairu needed no long farewells. They simply shook hands tightly in parting and wished him luck in a few short words, then Kairu left, leaving behind the little room with its blazing hearth and feverish Ashley on the bench. He was met by the icy wind and frosty air.

  He climbed several stairways, avoiding the fighting raging below in the courtyard’s center. Here, on the upper tiers, death reigned. But Kairu was searching for Rita.

  He found her a level below, kneeling. Konrad’s body lay in her arms, face turned toward Vaimar’s stars; it seemed as if he were asleep, bareheaded under the paling sky, and she gently closed his eyes. Nearby lay the slain goblin. She had managed it. She had won.

  Kairu approached. He found her warm hand and clasped it firmly in his. Helped her rise and asked softly:

  "Will you come with me?"

  She went. She would have followed him to the world’s end. He was the only thing left to her in this cold, empty world.

  And Kairu led her away, holding her hand, climbing higher, past the bell tower, leaving the fortress walls, climbing again into the rocks where once a city had thrived and perished. There, where sparks whirled, and the air pulsed between the stones, he embraced her, and she pressed her body against his, clutching him tightly, afraid he too would vanish, leave her alone…

  He felt Rita’s tear-wet cheek against his own. And the thread binding them was stronger than the thread of time itself; it made them one. Once again, they were alone, as in the Evergreen Gardens of Mainor, but now surrounded by darkness, death, and desolation, and ahead lay a new struggle, another leap into the unknown.

  And then Kairu closed his eyes, squeezed her hand—and together with Rita, he left this world, stepping into the Crossroads of time, spiraling through the long fall of a journey thirty years into the past.

  ***

  To be continued...

  This is the end of Book 5.

  If you're enjoying the story so far, please consider following it, and if you already do, I would really appreciate a rating, and even more a review!

  Meanwhile, I would like to thank you so much for reading, and see you in Book 6, which drops already tomorrow.