The snow-covered walls of the fortress were lit by a huge moon, hanging beneath a crown of scattered northern stars. The enormous ashen clouds from the volcano had been carried eastward by the wind, and above Ardrai the sky cleared, revealing its cold radiance. And it was as if this became the signal for those who had been waiting below, at the walls of the last outpost, to begin their assault. The most powerful and destructive one yet.

  They hid among the hills and the bare black bushes that grew thickly across the plain stretching between the mountain’s foot and the distant wilderness of Regerlim. The plain spread for many miles to the west and east, but in the place where the outpost stood, and where the old overgrown road led to the ruins, it rose slightly on a height, and the streams of molten lava mixed with melted snow had not reached it. Somewhere farther east, clouds of steam and crimson reflections rose almost to the heavens, where fiery rivers filled their serpentine channels and spilled into lakes, but here everything was quiet and calm.

  That is, if one did not count the vast host of druids slowly emerging from behind the hills, armed with broadswords, spears, and muskets.

  Viggo roughly estimated their number, then turned, looking from the fortress wall into the inner courtyard, where Aok’s druids were already bustling about, and his face darkened. The attacking army was far smaller than the forces of Orwell Cassander, against which he got to stand already twice. And yet they outnumbered the outpost defenders by nearly two to one. And like that was not enough, the goblins had come with them. From above, their helmets and huge pig-like snouts with tusks were clearly visible, towering several heads taller than all the druids, marching in a pack, carefully inspecting the walls.

  "Well, Remiz," Viggo muttered. His hands ached bitterly for his beloved axe, the gift of Nubel, which he had parted with in Derelzfjord. Instead, now he had a two-handed sword, but Viggo still couldn’t get used to it. "Remember then, in Nalvin… We didn’t give in. And in Mainor either. Not even in the Wolf’s Citadel did we surrender. We still came out of it dry."

  "It was easier then," Remiz replied curtly. Then, after a pause, he added: "Not so much depended on us back then."

  "You’re right. But we’ve grown stronger. Haven’t we?"

  The Nocturn said nothing, only took a deep breath, raised his hands, and drew the twin katanas from behind his back. Their blades flashed. Remiz sat down in the snow, leaned against the parapet, pulled the gloves from his hands, and closed his eyes, sinking into meditation. Viggo glanced around. Dob and the main squad of swordsmen had clustered by the gates and the second tier of the wall. Everyone understood well enough that the ancient barrier would not last long.

  "Ah, what I wouldn’t give right now for a warm bed and Gudrun by my side…" Viggo muttered to no one in particular.

  The bell in the corner tower of the outpost boomed in its high, cracked voice, someone tugging fervently at its tongue as if hoping the sound alone might frighten the enemy away. But in answer, horns had already begun to sound across the field, blowing their war cry. The first ranks of the druid army, until now moving unhurriedly, suddenly roared, shrieked, and rushed forward, shaking their weapons and banners of hides, trampling the fresh snow with their fur boots. Somewhere, drums thudded dully, and their dreadful, rhythmic pounding broke into the ears, splitting the head from within, filling it with fear and unrest. Viggo winced. How much more noise could there be?..

  They waited. The archers held arrows nocked, letting the enemy come close enough to strike without fail. The swordsmen prepared to repel siege ladders and hurl down grappling hooks. Those who lacked weapons clutched stones and logs, ready to fire them from catapults or simply throw them down onto enemy heads. And still the horde drew nearer, their silhouettes and torchlight clearly visible beneath the crystalline glow of the moon.

  Janus spat darkly between his fangs and touched the hilt of the broadsword hanging from his belt. His quarry had eluded him for far too long… but this time the trap had sprung perfectly. Soon it would all be over. The main thing was not to let the druids kill the people and carry them off, to take them far away to Tepei-Kuon… He saw them. Up there, along the battlements of the fortress wall, stood the people. The same ones who had escaped him that morning on the ice of Derelzfjord.

  Suddenly, in the west, the sky flared and wavered with a greenish curtain of northern lights, shimmering waves flowing across it. The plain was bathed in deathly radiance, a cold southern wind blew. And then the druids’ horns blared even more furiously, straining as they sent their song above the mountain peaks, to Aurora herself. Dozens of warriors lined up in ranks, infantry with cold steel bent low and rushed the walls, while the gunners raised their muskets—and the plain filled with thunder, fire, and powder smoke.

  The archers answered, hiding behind the battlements, their arrows flying into the dark sky with a sinister whistle. And in the same instant, a crimson rain fell upon the snow at the walls of the outpost and onto the platforms within the fortress wall, and the first bodies gave up their spirits forever, by molten lead or sharpened arrowhead. No one had time to react before the air was filled with arrows and bullets, before the druids’ army was already at the walls, and grappling hooks soared upward, catching on the parapets. Snow sprayed as the outpost’s walls were engulfed in fiery onslaught. The goblins had brought enough powder and shot to keep the defenders from so much as lifting their heads above the embrasures.

  Viggo waited, teeth clenched. Remiz was calm now, cold-blooded and focused, crouched low as lead shattered the stone outside, watching the hooks, the quivering ropes along which enemies were already climbing. The others waited too, counting the seconds in the pauses between heartbeats before leaning out to loose another arrow into the gloom or hurl a stone down with all their strength.

  Then, over the wall, appeared the first heads of druids of the Lynx Clan, painted with war colors, and then blades slashed down onto ropes, onto hands clutching the battlements, onto necks—and Viggo squinted, listening to the bloodcurdling screams of those who slipped and plummeted. But they kept climbing again and again, like cockroaches, and there were just as many of them. Some even managed to scramble up and swing their swords once or twice before being struck down. The wall shook, bullets kept the archers from shooting, and meanwhile—Viggo was certain of it—below, they were already bringing up the battering ram.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The archers stayed hidden, bows drawn, ready to strike the moment the chance appeared, saving their arrows until then. The first wave of attackers had drowned in blood, cut ropes dangling from the wall, and below lay heaps of broken bodies. Viggo hastily wiped the sweat from his brow, pulled Remiz by the hand, and they rushed down the stairs. The wall shuddered palpably, a crash resounded, and several druids nearly fell.

  "A cannon!" Viggo shouted, instantly recognizing the sound and its aftermath. "Those bastards brought a cannon with them!"

  Remiz only nodded; he had already realized it himself. The thunder was constant—how did the attackers even have time to reload their muskets? The wall shook again, and in the courtyard, druids under Dob’s command were hastily shifting positions, preparing to fight immediately and keep the enemy from breaking into the inner yard. Up above at the battlements, Aok’s shaman had set out an entire array of runes before himself and prepared to break them, unleashing their magic outward.

  Another deafening crash, the howl of a flying cannonball—and the wall shook, stones crumbling inward, opening a breach. Siege ladders pressed against the walls, and enemies swarmed up them with the agility and speed of monkeys; the archers barely had time to beat them back. Again and again, careless druids slipped and fell, killed by a stray bullet… Less than a minute had passed before the cannon fired once more, stones burst upward in dusty sprays, and a huge section of the wall broke away and collapsed, and through the gaping breach poured the smugglers.

  Viggo roared. Battle… the battle was all around him again, sweeping him up in its mad adrenaline and bloody frenzy. He rushed forward to where two mighty waves had crashed against each other with thunder and the ringing of steel.

  Then the slaughter began.

  Figures of the enemy emerged from the breach out of the night’s darkness, steel clashed, the front ranks locked in a furious struggle, choking under clouds of rubble and flying snow, each man thinking only of one thing: to kill, and not be killed. Snowdrifts were stained crimson, the blotches growing larger. The first bodies fell into the gap, tripping those rushing forward, forcing them to stumble, climb over, or leap past, while from above arrows rained down mercilessly from the archers—and they too died, pierced by lead. The druids fought as Viggo had never seen anyone fight before: ferociously and without mercy, using no shields, hardly even trying to parry, attacking relentlessly, turning even hands, feet, and teeth into weapons. And this dreadful crimson wave instantly flooded nearly the entire inner courtyard. Some attackers even managed to reach the stairs before an arrow or a luckier blade struck them down.

  The battle spilled into the center of the courtyard, turning into a true brawl where no one thought any longer of tactics. Bullets swarmed like bees, reigning in the air, not allowing anyone to raise their heads higher than necessary. The rear ranks of shooters and artillery had pressed close to the walls and slightly slackened their fire, and this gave the archers on the battlements their chance to join the fight. Screams, cries, groans, gasps, and sobs sounded nearly louder than the singing of swords, the whistle of arrows, and the buzzing of bullets. Corpses fell one after another, but the living had no time to notice, nor to care who would, in the next instant, depart forever for the stars. Time itself no longer mattered.

  And the humans fought in this dreadful hell on equal footing with the druids, drawing on all their agility, strength, and the experience forged in countless skirmishes, to hold against their opponents of the Clan of Bor. Viggo and Remiz took the center of the courtyard, becoming a deadly whirlwind that slew anyone who dared come near. Over the years, they had always fought side by side, each able to sense the other’s intent and adjust to it, so that together they became a true war machine with three blades. Rita and Norton appeared in the yard with swords. They withdrew with several druids to the second tier of the wall, from where stones rained down into the courtyard onto friend and foe alike. Ioran and Gedelin burst into the center of the outpost, spinning their spears. Rodrigo Antan fought in the corner by the bell tower wall, shielding Demetra with his own body as she raised her magical staff… The sky was clear. The stars shone brightly. And that meant the defenders of the outpost had yet another trump card in their sleeve…

  Goblins appeared in the breach.

  ***

  "I always knew you were insane." Yuffilis shook his head. "But Kairu, understand—your project is not only madness, it is, first of all, a useless waste of time, and second, an undertaking that could lead to an unpredictable outcome even if you succeed. Do you understand? You are going to rewrite history, the fate of an entire country, you’re going to do something in the past that will change the future irreversibly—and you’ll only have one chance, do you hear me?"

  "Yuf, I’ll do everything right!" Kairu answered heatedly. Outside, the sounds of gunfire, screams, and clashing blades could already be heard, but the four of them were still here, in the room by the hearth. "You have to understand me too! I’ll be there, I’ll see everything with my own eyes, and then I’ll fix what needs to be fixed, and everything else will remain as it was!"

  "But why do we need this?" Lainter shouted in despair. "Kairu! You already know every step! We return to Vairad and take Natall. We go to Harkon. We board a ship, sail to Darius Island, and do whatever needs to be done there… we’ll figure it out on the spot! Why the hell can’t you sit still?! We could all be dead before dawn! And what if you come back and see that everything has changed?! What will you do then?"

  "I’ll open another crossroads and try again," Kairu replied stubbornly.

  "It’s not that simple," said Konrad. "You can’t take Darius and Octarus with you. They can only exist in one copy in each reality, so they’ll remain here. And if you change the timeline so that by that point you can’t find them, you’ll have to start all over."

  "I don’t give a damn!" Kairu shouted. "Then I’ll start all over! But I just want to understand why everything happened the way it did, why my father died, why Rita’s parents died, Woody, Atgard… Joanna… I want to know that it wasn’t in vain! I want to be sure that what’s happening now is truly the best future we could have had! Because I don’t believe it!"

  Silence fell. Neither had noticed how they had leaped from their stools and were now staring at each other, breathing heavily. The fire flickered dimly in the half-light of the room. Yuf wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

  "But what will happen to us?" he asked quietly. "When you change the past… what will happen to the future that never comes to pass?"

  Kairu shook his head.

  "I don’t know. I don’t know what became of us in that future Petros returned from. Perhaps we all died there. Perhaps the same will happen here. But that won’t matter anymore. In the new reality, I won’t allow it."

  "But we’ll remain here," Konrad reminded him.

  "If I don’t try, then this reality will remain the only one." Kairu clenched his fists until it hurt. His eyes suddenly stung—or was it just smoke from the hearth?

  "And here, I know for certain I won’t be able to save you. Either we all die together—whether today, or a month from now, or a year—and with us dies the hope of another future. Or—I create a new reality, where hope still lives. Do you understand?"

  He looked around at them and saw that they did.