"No-o!" screamed Saelin. "No!"

  Aok was dragging him by the hand, pulling him along, forcing him away from the furious crimson blaze. Arrows whistled between the trees. Time and again came a deafening roar, as if a hurricane gust swept through the forest, and the thicket lit up with red and white flashes. Shining spheres burst from broken battle runes and shot forward, slamming into pine trunks, setting dry shrubs and enemy druids alight. Screams rang out, moans, the clash of metal as battle axes and swords were brought into play, or the dull thud of wooden clubs. The ground was littered with bodies.

  It was chaos.

  "My son is there!" Saelin shouted. Arrows hissed overhead, and the druid pressed his head into his shoulders, stumbling backward into thorn bushes. "Let me go!… I must—"

  "Must!" hissed Aok, yanking him again. "You’ll be killed the moment you stick your head out, even an inch! The whole damned Lynx Clan is there! It’s a battle, don’t you understand?"

  With a sharp motion, Aok threw him down. The arrows were now aimed deliberately, and on the far side of the clearing came the cries of cannibals. Arrows whistled, striking into tree trunks, knocking out splinters.

  "Aok, I must…" Saelin groaned.

  The druid only clenched his teeth. He waited until the next volley of arrows passed over their heads, slicing branches from bushes and pines. Then he leapt up sharply, at the same time letting Saelin go.

  "You want to die? Be my guest! The front is that way! Your son is there too!" He pointed up the slope. Druids with wolves’ heads on their belts were slowly advancing, hiding behind trees, sometimes throwing themselves to the ground, sometimes joining open combat against enemies descending toward them. Almost as if in answer to Aok’s words, a druid of the Wolf Clan right next to them darted forward, trying to sprint from one pine to another—and halfway across, a fireball struck him. The druid let out a soul-tearing scream and fell to his knees, becoming a living torch. For a few more seconds, he shrieked and rolled on the ground, and Saelin, horrified, clapped his hands over his ears, eyes bulging at the sight.

  "The same thing could happen to you," Aok said hoarsely, dragging him down again and pressing him to the earth. "So for now, sit here. This is a good hiding spot; our fighters won’t let them through. You’ve got no place at the front, you can’t fight anyway. Shoot at them from here with your gun when they get close. Don’t waste bullets. And don’t hit my men by accident. Understood?"

  Saelin nodded with difficulty. He lay down on the ground, frantically reloading his musket. Aok patted him on the shoulder.

  "We will win," he said. "I’ll come back to you and tell you when it’s safe to go up."

  With these words, he drew his sword and rushed forward—into the darkness, where flashes danced, and swords rang.

  ***

  They ran through the forest. Branches tore at clothes and skin, leaves tangled in hair, boots kept stumbling over thick, knotted roots. Petros was leading them upward, the slope grew ever steeper, and within minutes, Kairu felt he was running out of strength. They stopped only when the noise of battle below no longer reached them, and around them was only the sound of the wind and the faint rustling of trees.

  Kairu struggled to catch his breath. His temples throbbed, sweat flooded his eyes. He wiped the drops with his sleeve, just to make sure his vision hadn’t deceived him minutes earlier.

  "Petros!" he exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "I could ask the two of you the same question," the professor answered with a smile. "Kairu and Rita, what are you doing here? This is not your time."

  Kairu was silent, realizing the absurdity of the situation. When he set out for the past, he suspected he might meet Professor Petros, thirty years younger. But the Petros who stood before them looked exactly the same as the Petros who had saved him from the burning Nubelrain in the spring of 1452. And in 1425, Petros couldn’t possibly have known who they were—because at that moment, neither Kairu nor Rita had yet been born.

  Unless…

  "You’re from the future?" Kairu asked in shock.

  "Exactly," Petros said. "Just like the two of you. But since we clearly did not expect to meet each other in this place and time, I am forced to conclude we are not from the same future."

  Hector stared at them, eyes wide. Suddenly, Kairu understood.

  "The coin," he said. "Show me the coin."

  Petros smiled again.

  "Not bad," he said, slipped his hand into his pocket, and pulled it out, extending his open palm to Kairu. The coin lay there, and Kairu snatched it, bringing it to his eyes. Petros snapped his fingers, and a bright sphere of light hovered over the small clearing where they had stopped, allowing Kairu to see.

  It was the very coin of 1453, with the strange profile on the obverse.

  "I’ll be damned," Kairu muttered, handing the coin back to Petros. "All right. In that case, I know who you are and what will happen to you thirty years from now. But still—for starters, tell me: how did you get here, and what the hell are you doing?"

  "Apparently, the same as you," Petros replied. "I’m trying to fix the past. And to prevent the end of the world. And I suspect that together, we may have already succeeded. And we can even confirm it with our own eyes."

  With these words, he reached under his cloak and drew out the Octarus, with the Lake of Aktida shining brightly at its core. Kairu gasped.

  "How do you have that?! The diamond won’t be found for another thirty years…"

  "That’s what I thought," Petros nodded. "Exactly. Thirty years later, it will be found again. Just like the Octarus. Everything is predetermined, Kairu."

  He handed Kairu the time machine. Kairu took it, gripping the wooden tendrils, feeling energy flood him again. It seemed as though sparks danced in the air above the clearing.

  "Hector," said Petros. "Tell me: what time do you want to go to?"

  The boy looked at him fearfully. He still didn’t understand anything. In the features of the gray-haired old man, he could hardly recognize the familiar young professor Petros, and the two other rescuers were complete strangers to him, and he wasn’t sure if they could be trusted. But the answer to the old man’s question—he knew that. He had always known.

  "1972," Hector said.

  Kairu closed his eyes. He was doing it again, and the algorithm was already familiar.

  A blinding blue light flooded the clearing, and rays illuminated the treetops and shot high into the sky. The four people felt the ground tremble, felt the furious wind rush into the clearing and howl above it, ripping grass and bushes with roots out of the earth. And then they saw ripples running through the air and felt the ground quiver beneath their feet from the forces wrought by the gods themselves, forces beyond rational explanation, beyond the grasp of human mind or imagination.

  Above the earth, it flared and grew, opening a passage between the now and the then, a new crossroads of time.

  Kairu stepped back, gasping, fighting dizziness and nausea, and slowly laid the Octarus on the ground. And at that moment, Hector suddenly leaped forward and vanished into the trembling, sparkling haze. No one had time to stop him.

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  "How long do we have?" Kairu asked hoarsely.

  "Not long," Petros said. "But enough. Let’s go."

  And he, too, disappeared into the portal. Kairu looked at Rita. She was still breathing heavily, sweat streaming down her dirt-streaked cheeks. He took her hand.

  "Are you ready?"

  "Always," she replied with a grin. And then Kairu stepped forward and entered the crossroads of time.

  ***

  The flames of the torches danced on the walls, revealing from the darkness ancient chipped columns, bas-reliefs, inscriptions in an unknown language, and depictions of strange objects. A turn, a fork, shadows leaping across the floor and ceiling. One could see only a couple of yards ahead, everything else swallowed by impenetrable, soundless black. Silence was broken only by the creak of boots and the steady drip of water falling somewhere behind the wall…

  A flash, a gigantic ghastly silhouette suddenly leaping out before them, in an instant, enormous teeth and bulging eyes came into view, soldiers cried out and thrust their sword-points forward… Damn it, it was only a statue. A carving of some god with the head of a bear. Of course, that was Vaimos. They were in the sanctuary of Vaimos, damn him, and may he forgive the blasphemy.

  Maclevirr wiped the sweat from his brow. The soldiers, realizing their mistake, breathed a sigh of relief and moved on again. Another statue… and another… One might think they’d be used to it by now, but every time their hearts sank into their boots with fear.

  "Faster!" Maclevirr tried to inject confidence into his voice to encourage his unit, but it trembled treacherously. Yes, he was afraid too. He had never believed in tales of fiends lurking in ancient places, but there was something about this dungeon that unsettled even the bravest warrior. As though something was waiting for them—somewhere out there, behind one of the countless turns. Something that had dwelt here for millennia, guarding the shrine from intruders. And though it gave no sound, no motion, its presence was felt—like a sticky cloud of poisonous fear filling the silent corridors.

  Where was Petros? They had given chase the very instant they heard the shot. He couldn’t have gone far…

  A stone slab underfoot shifted slightly, and Maclevirr recoiled at once, waving his torch about, trying to understand whether it was a trap or merely an ancient stone cracked with age. Silence held. The darkness was so thick that the torch did not light the corridor more than a few feet ahead, and beyond the wavering dim light lay only the unknown…

  Maclevirr took a deep breath, counted to ten, carefully stepped around the suspicious slab, and went on.

  In the next instant, three things happened at once. First, behind them came a muffled clank, as though something metallic had fallen. Second, the corridor abruptly ended, and the torchlight revealed a hall stretching far ahead. Third, something huge, with thunderous steps on the stone floor, moved out of the darkness straight at them…

  Maclevirr screamed.

  This time, the statues truly were alive.

  ***

  The sun shone in the sky. It was piercingly blue, with only a few tufts of cloud. The wind whipped damp hair, its gusts so strong they brought tears to the eyes. Ahead, to the right, the ashen peak of the Fire-Breathing Mountain rose into the heavens. No smoke hung above it.

  Kairu turned slowly and gasped. The sight stole his breath.

  There were no trees below. The bare slope, scarred with crevices and rocks formed of hardened lava, stretched far downward. There, at the foot of the Mountain, groves and fields were visible, and farther still, where in 1425 there had been only a field dividing the mountain’s base from the border of Regerlim—there was a city…

  A vast city. A city gleaming with glass and metal, where grim gray monoliths dwarfed the pines of Regerlim’s border. The smallest houses looked from here no bigger than fingernails, but the largest were so immense they eclipsed even the towers of the royal palace in Mainor, even the Wolf Citadel, even Estogil Castle. They were taller than anything Kairu had ever seen. Down below, something moved constantly, and a faint but noticeable veil of smog lay over the city—a truly titanic structure, a fearsome one. Kairu stared, jaw slack, seeing only endless gray and the shine of glass in the noonday sun. It seemed even the trees, scattered sparsely among the block-like houses, were gray, with stunted, gnarled crowns. This city was unlike any Kairu had ever seen.

  Something thundered in the sky, a strange, eerie drone that grew louder, and Kairu instinctively stepped back. He thought he was prepared for anything, but dread gripped him when he saw a black dot in the sky, swelling larger and larger, taking the shape of a massive white bird that circled the city and began to descend at its edge. Spinning propellers were visible, and shining lights festooned the flying machine. It was terrifying and awe-inspiring at once…

  Petros stood beside them. A lone figure lingered below, on a flat plateau, from which a worn trail led down to the mountain’s foot.

  "Hector," Rita said softly.

  "What does it all mean, Petros?" Kairu asked, gasping with terror and wonder. "Why are we here?"

  Petros swept his hand around them.

  "As you see, more than five hundred years have passed," he said. "The world not only survived—it was reborn. That means we did everything right."

  "Is this… Elysium?"

  "Quite possibly. Who knows? Perhaps Elysium is now, or perhaps ten thousand years from now… Kairu, Elysium is only what the ancient Nocturns saw in their future, what they recorded in their sacred books—because the idea of a bright, perfect world to come someday, if only one believed hard enough and was a good citizen, was an excellent way to govern the masses. I am sure this world we see is far from perfect—ask those who live here and now. But what matters is, it is not a scorched wasteland where only wind and spirits dwell. We were able to come here, and that means this world will come—if only we do not fail again."

  "In your future it never came?"

  "Exactly. In my future, hope was gone. But now it has returned."

  "And what do we do with him?" Rita asked, nodding toward Hector. "Leave him here? But in our history, he died this very night… Petros, Saelin told us you were the one who killed him."

  Petros darkened.

  "That too was a mistake," he said. "And we will correct it as well."

  Petros strode down the slope. Kairu, regaining his senses, followed after the professor, drawing his sword and gripping it tight—for comfort. But the fear did not leave him. To find himself here, in this strange gray world, was more frightening than even the dungeons of ancient shrines.

  The youth stood with his back to them. Hearing their steps, he slowly turned. His face expressed nothing at all.

  "Hector," Kairu said quietly, hesitantly.

  "Get away," the youth replied, fists clenched. Kairu flinched. There was such terrible, threatening force in Hector’s voice that he truly wanted to back away, to leave this man alone with his thoughts, alone with his fate, which he could now rewrite from a blank page…

  "Hector," Kairu repeated. "Listen to us…"

  "Get away! This is my world! I was born here, and you have no place in it!" the youth shouted, stomping his foot against the stones. "Do you hear me, you bunch of medieval idiots? Fools! It’s because of you, do you understand? Because of you, my father and I had to endure it all! But now I’m here, I’ve come back… and I am home."

  He turned away again and looked down at the city below. Kairu froze. He was beginning to understand.

  "So you’re not from our time," Rita said before he could collect his thoughts and put into one phrase everything that had been swirling on his tongue.

  "Of course not!" Hector shouted, whirling back toward them. "It’s all because of your stupid time machine and those stupid crossroads! Because of it, my father went insane… because of it all those fools lost their minds, because of it we went on that damn expedition!"

  "Hector, your father is still there, in 1425," Kairu said. "And he’s looking for you…"

  "He never cared about me," Hector answered, his voice trembling, sniffling as he wiped his tears. "He brought me into that damned forest… he left me on the aerostat… he let those forest apes steal me… And where is he now, when I was nearly killed?"

  "Hector, listen…"

  "Look at this!" He swept his hand toward the city below. "There it is, your future! Do you like it? But you don’t deserve it! All you ever do is deceive and kill each other! A human life means nothing to you! But here, for us, it’s worth everything! Did you really think all your stupid intrigues, lies, betrayals would lead you here? The only way to reach this world, if you don’t have a time machine, is to come to your senses and learn to live like people! Like people, not some primitive herd! And my father, after ten years with you, became just the same! Just like you! I hate you all!"

  "Hector," Kairu took a step forward, "I’m a Seer too. Do you understand?"

  Hector glared from under his brow, mistrustful.

  "Hector, it won’t be long," Kairu said quietly, "just thirty years… and people will pay for the time machine. Blood will flood Laugdeil. Aktida and Vaimar will drown in it. And we… we are here to fix it. We are here to prevent the worst, to rid the world of the time machine forever. But we need you. Come with us… Come back."

  What am I doing?! a mad thought flashed in his head. His throat went dry. Because up there… this very night he has to die.

  Otherwise, the course of events would change, and something irreparable would happen.

  "Come, Hector," Rita said softly. "Your father… he’s waiting for you. And he loves you. Believe me. Everything he ever did—he did for you. He, too, would want to be here. But far more important to him would be being with you."

  Hector clenched his fists. He stared at them, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, or if he was capable of thinking at all. But his silence did not last. His face changed, his legs suddenly gave way, and he collapsed to his knees and broke into sobs. Not hiding his tears now, not trying to stop them, he cried, curled on the stones, his face buried in his knees, his head covered by his arms. Kairu watched him and felt tears rising in his own eyes. He no longer knew what they should do.

  "Maybe we should leave him here?" he asked uncertainly, turning to Petros. "If this is his world… if he wanted so much to come here…"

  "Everything will happen as it must," Petros said, squinting, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked ahead.

  Kairu suddenly realized that for several minutes now, he had been hearing a distant drone that was growing louder and louder. He lifted his gaze and only now noticed what he should have seen long before, had he not been watching Hector.

  A massive white bird rose above the city and was now approaching them. It grew and grew, the drone swelling to a deafening roar, and Kairu suddenly understood it was far larger than a man, larger than a house. It gleamed, reflecting sunlight off white wings and black glass; it had windows and doors; and it was flying straight toward the four people standing on the slope.