How could he know, this new dawn’s light

  Would change his life forever?

  Set sail the sea, but pulled of course

  By the light of golden treasure.

  Was he the one, causing pain

  With his careless dreaming?

  Been afraid, always afraid of the things he’s feeling…

  Metallica, The Unforgiven III

  ***

  That time of year thou mayst in me behold

  When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

  Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

  Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

  In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

  As after sunset fadeth in the west,

  Which by and by black night doth take away,

  Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

  In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire

  That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

  As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

  Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

  This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

  To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

  William Shakespeare, Sonnet 73

  ***

  The horses clopped leisurely along the dusty road, tossing their manes, noisily drawing in the air scented with spring. The cool wind tousled hair and rustled high in the thick green crowns of the pines that lined the trail leading southwest. Massive clouds drifted across the sky like towers. In recent days, storms had gathered and broken out several times, and puddles still glimmered here and there on the road. The sun warmed them, caressing from the azure heights with its rays, and it seemed incredible that just a few weeks ago, before the travelers had crossed the mountains, frost and snow had surrounded them.

  For now, they were in Derelz—a paradise, perhaps the best place in all the harsh Vaimar, a place where anyone could find peace and prosperity for the rest of their life, a place where dreams came true, a place where everyone wished to stay forever.

  Natall Ganstair smiled dreamily, gazing ahead at the horizon, where the road ran straight as an arrow. He was already completely immersed in the spring that had blossomed around them, which left no room for dark memories. Petros was also silent, towering over the others on the powerful back of his black Hellsteed. Kairu had not yet grown accustomed to the fact that the past in which this man had died no longer existed; there was only the present, in which Petros rode side by side with them.

  Yes, he had aged considerably in the past year and a half. Even when Kairu and Rita had traveled with him through the Southern Province to Nalvin, they marveled at how this gray-haired elder could still hold himself firmly in the saddle. But the current Petros looked even older, weary from life and ill. Sharp movements and words were gone, the lively spark in his blue eyes had vanished, replaced by new scars and marks. The professor was increasingly silent, absorbed in his thoughts, and Kairu and Rita did not rush to disturb him. They had to get used to each other again, to the fact that they were all together once more and united by a single goal—just like almost two years ago.

  But, of course, some things could not be left unspoken.

  A long and serious conversation took place that very day when they met and shared much with each other. Kairu and Rita were primarily interested in two things. First, what the last thirty years had looked like from Petros’ perspective; they needed to compare their memories with what had actually happened as a result of their Interference in history. Second, they wanted to hear Natall’s story.

  ***

  "Well, let’s compare our data," said Petros, opening a leather-bound notebook and tracing his finger over the entries in the dim candlelight. "October 7, 1452: expedition organized by Professor Nubel finds the Lake of Aktida and registers the discovery. March 10, 1453: Nubel dies in a fire at his estate, the same night the expedition delivers the diamond to him; the Lake of Aktida is captured by Saelin’s servants and taken to his Citadel. July 5, 1453: an armada of pirates from Talaska attacks and captures Surrell. September 2: the fall of Nalvin. August 23, 1454: defeat of Aktida’s army near Boreain, death of King Emerlun. Approximately two weeks before this, Ashley Nielder hurriedly leaves her Estogil estate, destroys her home, and heads north. January 4, 1455: the Wolf Clan fights the Lynx Clan at a fortress on the outskirts of the ruins of Ardrai in northern Vaimar. Did I miss anything?"

  "I don’t remember a single date, but it all sounds plausible," murmured Kairu. "So what does that mean? We didn’t change anything?"

  "It’s hard to say; I wasn’t in the timeline you came from," shrugged Petros. "But I’m sure that thirty years ago, you changed two very important things. First, without you, I likely would have been killed by Orwell Cassander. Second, thanks to you, I was able to find Hector."

  "Call me Natall," grumbled the smuggler. "I’ve grown out of that name."

  "How did you survive back then?" asked Rita. "We lost you as soon as we left the crossroads leading to Elysium…"

  "The Druids," Natall shrugged. "It wasn’t the Wolf Clan or the Lynx Clan. The Bear Clan found me; they didn’t care who I was. They took a few survivors from Ardrai with them. They fed us, gave us clothes and shelter, and in return, we worked for them. Well, we could leave at any time, but we had nowhere else to go. That’s how I grew up—in the forest. When I got older, I started participating in business. Business was bad at first—after Ardrai’s destruction, the north had far fewer people. But smuggling could keep you alive. That’s how I built a career. At first, I moved junk through the forest from north to south and back, then I got rich, bought a ship, bought a house, got married, had kids. Thirty years have passed, damn it."

  "Did you ever try to find your father?" Kairu asked quietly.

  "I was sure he died in the eruption," Natall shrugged. "I only found out when the war started, and his name appeared in the newspapers again. But by then I decided he was completely insane, and since he hadn’t tried to find me all this time—why should I contact him?"

  "He thought the same about you," Kairu said. Natall just scowled in response.

  "Why didn’t you stay in the future then?" asked Rita.

  "I don’t remember… but probably I was just scared," shrugged the captain. "I remembered nothing about that world except that I was born there. Maybe I still hoped to find my father—at that moment."

  "Would you want to go back there again?"

  "No. Why? I told you: my life is here now. And I’m satisfied with it, damn it." Natall sighed.

  "How did you end up at the outpost?" asked Kairu.

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  "Soon after we accidentally met in Vairad, Petros found me and bought off my debt," Ganstair shrugged. "Besides, the Lynx Clan was obviously busy with a campaign against the Wolf Clan, and the bounty hunters weren’t looking for me; they wouldn’t have been paid anyway… I forgot about you immediately. I didn’t know whether you risked going into that damn forest, but I knew one thing: if you did, you’re screwed, no other way. Regerlim during the clan wars—it’s a hornet’s nest, no place for ordinary people. So I wouldn’t have even thought of asking about you if Petros hadn’t reminded me of a debt much older than that…"

  Petros lifted the corners of his thin lips, and Ganstair looked embarrassed for some reason.

  "In short, we made a deal," he admitted. "I gathered a team, found familiar mercenaries, so we assembled a fairly large group, and we all headed north. Of course, it was scary. But if fear always outweighed greed, I wouldn’t have become a smuggler…"

  Ganstair’s squad, nearly a hundred strong, made it to the mountain ridge, reached the plains between the mountains and the northern taiga borders, and arrived at the ruins of Ardrai even before the Wolf Clan druids. But the captain did not dare show himself. They went into battle only at dawn, when the final clash between the Clans turned into a bloody massacre with no clear victor. But the smugglers played a decisive role, the Lynx Clan was defeated, and with them, all of Saelin’s killer goblins were killed. Every single one.

  Then Ashley, Norton Kenai, Yuf Lainter, Viggo, Remiz, Demetra, and Rodrigo were taken from the ruins of the outpost. Accompanied by a guard provided by the Wolf Clan in exchange for help in the decisive battle, they traveled along the trail along the edge of Regerlim to the west, to the mountains, and from there to Derelz. Petros and Natall remained at the outpost to wait for Kairu and Rita.

  "And you, Petros?" asked Rita. "And don’t tell me we already know everything! It’s time to lay all the cards on the table. You left back then without really explaining anything—and left us to deal with the mess you made. Kindly explain now what happened—at least over the past few years."

  "You already know most of it," Petros smiled. "But you’re right. I have something to tell. I suggest we postpone it until we are all together again. So we don’t repeat the same story twice."

  "But what do we do now?" asked Kairu.

  Petros took Octarus from his travel bag and handed it to him.

  "Natall’s people kindly left us a couple of extra horses. So now we’re also going to Derelz—to Natall’s home. The captain kindly agreed to help us with the final journey of the time machine. The time has come. We can’t delay this any longer."

  ***

  And they rode west. Behind them, the winter sun slowly rose, illuminating the mist-covered slopes of the North-Vaimar Mountains. They saw these mountains on their right for a very long time, until the plains and the edge of Regerlim led them to the point where the northernmost road of Laugdeil wound upward through mountain passes and took travelers to the other side of the ridge—to a place much warmer, where, although snow still blanketed forests and fields, the air already carried the anticipation of spring.

  In Derelz, they arrived at the beginning of February. As they traveled south, the sun grew warmer, the snow gradually thinned, and then disappeared entirely, revealing the black frozen earth. By mid-February, they reached areas where spring had fully asserted itself. Trees had budded, green grass grew underfoot, and snowdrops swayed gently in the breeze. The southern wind was warm and soft. The journey through the grim forest of Regerlim now seemed like a terrible dream, while reality surrounded them: peaceful towns and villages, quiet streets where people went about their daily lives, and the war raging somewhere to the south felt so distant that it could almost be ignored.

  There was an abundance of time. No matter how much Petros resisted and avoided long conversations with them, one evening Kairu and Rita managed to extract at least part of the story—about what had happened in the autumn of 1453, immediately after the battle for Nalvin.

  ***

  "The crossroads of time led to a period when the western invaders had just landed from their ships somewhere at the mouth of Ilvion, while life in Aktida flowed peacefully and evenly," Petros said, not looking at his companions sitting across from him at the table. Outside the inn’s windows, twilight gathered; Natall had gone somewhere, and in the small room, they were alone, the three of them. "I had a lot to find out there, and my path led from Nalvin to Linurad, which is now the capital of Aktida and has taken the name Mainor… That’s where I went—without a horse, somehow managing to find food and shelter along the way, while also gathering news from the locals. I had to hurry because fighting was rumored to have already started in the south. But I found exactly the crossroads I needed: in that time, many events occurred that significantly affected the future of Lake of Aktida and the Star of Tornir.

  "I won’t trouble you with the details of what I wanted to find out in Linurad. I’ll just say one thing," Petros allowed himself a restrained smile. "I remembered all your warnings, Kairu, as well as our meeting that night on the slope of the Fire-Breathing Mountain. I knew Orwell Cassander was pursuing me, and I tried to confuse my tracks to buy time. But that pirate was cleverer than me. Apparently, he figured out where and how I intended to go, quickly got his bearings, and caught up with me near the capital."

  "To be honest, a dangerous thought crossed my mind—to take the risk. To fight, shake off my old bones, and see what I was still capable of after so many years of traveling. I was even confident that I had a fair chance of winning… But I heeded your warning, Kairu. You said I could be killed, and I wanted to live too much, at least until the end of this story. So I cheated. I created a phantom, an exact copy of myself, which I controlled while hiding at a safe distance. Cassander, pursuing me, didn’t notice the substitution and chased the clone. Oh, here I had to recall all my acting and magical skills: first, the phantom had to display contempt and arrogance to the Admiral, then despair and fear, and finally, I chose the right moment to finish our battle with a single strike. Cassander weakened from the fight and became truly enraged: he saw that his opponent, though exhausted, refused to surrender. I allowed my magical protégé to make a small mistake, and the admiral immediately took advantage of it, not even bothering with his usual lectures. He simply cut down the enemy, then hacked him with his saber for a long time, finally decapitating him just to be safe, and only then rested, heavily wounded, tired, but satisfied. I admit, the fight exhausted me too, and even if I had wanted to, my phantom alone could not have defeated Cassander; the pirate’s victory was only a matter of time. So after our duel, while the admiral buried the second Petros, and I watched from the mountain top, I realized I had made the right choice by not risking a real fight.

  "Then Cassander left—limping, hastily bandaging his wounds; later I learned he barely managed to get back to the crossroads and return to our time. I was also in no shape to pursue him and rid the world of that moron. I had other tasks, which I completed over the next year, so that by winter I could return, leave the Southern Province, and head north. I must say, I lagged only slightly behind you: I arrived in Vairad at the end of November—I think around the time you left the Temple of Tornir and set out for Regerlim. In Vairad, I found Natall and hurried to the ruins of Ardrai. The rest you already know."

  He lifted his head and, for the first time in a long while, looked Kairu directly in the eyes. And Kairu again marveled at where the icy flame that had once danced in Petros’ eyes had gone…

  "Thank you," the professor croaked. "Honestly, if I hadn’t remembered your warning, I wouldn’t have expected surveillance—and I wouldn’t have noticed it. And if I hadn’t been prepared, this fight would have ended exactly as you predicted. On that cliff, my head would have been on a pike…"

  "To be honest, after everything I’ve learned about you over the past couple of years, I almost regret warning you," Kairu said calmly.

  "I know. And I appreciate it all the same. I admit, I abused your trust. But in the end, everything happened as it should, and that’s the most important thing. If you hadn’t trusted me and carried out my request, things would have been much worse."

  "I still can’t believe the war in Aktida was your doing," said Kairu, looking him straight in the eyes.

  "History is a very complicated thing," Petros replied with a crooked grin. "Believe me, as someone who has studied it all his life. Let me put it this way: it was a necessary evil I had to commit for the future—yours included."

  "Who gave you the right to decide for me?" Kairu asked, barely restraining his fury.

  "No one. It came to me by chance. That’s how the chaos of circumstances unfolded. And that, too, is part of how history works."

  Rita snorted. Kairu expected her to deliver some sharp remark here, but she remained silent. Petros glanced at her.

  "Thank you," he repeated unexpectedly warmly. "Well, soon it will be my turn to repay debts. And everyone I owe will get their due, including interest accumulated over thirty years. Just give me a tiny bit more time…"

  "I don’t know how much we twisted events by interfering in the past," Rita said, "but one thing I know for sure: you’re still the same as we knew you, even your bad habits remain. In particular, your habit of speaking in riddles."

  ***

  Birds that had flown in from Aktida, where they had spent a long and harsh winter, darted about in flocks in the transparent air beneath a dazzlingly blue sky. The forests ended, giving way to plains, fields, and meadows filled with the fragrance of flowers. The ocean shore was drawing near.

  Shaking in the saddle and glancing around while his horse lazily trampled the road with its hooves, Kairu recalled the previous spring he had spent in the Enchanted Forest. There, spring was frozen, almost eternal, the weather shifting imperceptibly. Here, the change from winter cold to almost summer warmth happened instantly, within just a few days. Spring took root, sprouted tender shoots, blossomed with delicate white flowers, and heavy swelling buds that burst open, releasing sticky green leaves. Sometimes warm rains fell, sunlight gleamed through cracks in the gray mass of clouds, and streams of water fell from roadside branches, ringing against the stones, while the foliage quivered and glittered with thousands of reflections of the sun.

  And then, on one of the unusually warm evenings, filled with the same floral fragrance and the scent of fresh salty wind, with huge soft cumulus clouds in the lilac sunset sky, the coastline appeared ahead.

  Kairu remembered the boundless white expanse of icebound Derelzfjord, but this sight could not compare to anything he had ever seen before. The plain sloped gently down to a cliff, below which lay a strip of beach, and beyond it the ocean stretched to the horizon. A limitless canvas with blue ripples, white crests of waves, and a sparkling orange path from the sun blazing directly in the west, about to topple into the dark depths and leave the sky to tiny northern stars.

  The ocean filled the entire space to the horizon, with no beginning and no end. The cries of seagulls reached them, and they could see how smoothly the waves moved under the wind, as if some living creature breathed deeply and evenly, living its own life, inaccessible to humankind. Kairu opened his mouth slightly, stunned by the sight. The ocean seemed unreal, unbelievable, even when they turned onto a path and rode almost along the cliff, seeing below the white sand and waves rolling onto the beach and retreating back. Ahead, not far from the cliff’s edge, stood a small one-story house with a wide veranda, surrounded by a low fence, with several apple trees beside it. To the left of the house began another grove, and the rocks formed a natural staircase, allowing one to descend safely onto the gleaming golden sand. The plain stretched farther, sloping down and reaching into the sea at the horizon in a wide spit overgrown with shrubs that whispered in the evening breeze.