Silence fell, all the more strange and terrifying because just a moment before, the tiny beach had been filled with screams, groans, howls, and the clash of metal. The Ilvion lapped gently at the bloodstained shore, gradually washing away the crimson puddles. Kairu, stunned and deafened by what had happened, sank helplessly to the ground, trying to calm his pounding heart. Woody groaned and sat up, staring at their unexpected savior, who turned around, and Kairu almost screamed in fear.

  The rider was not human.

  And his horse, though it had hooves and a tail, was not a horse. Because where the head and neck of an animal should have been, a human torso rose from the body, clad in a fur jacket dusted with snowflakes and gleaming armor. The torso had normal muscular arms and a human head with a calm, flushed face. No matter how hard Kairu looked, he couldn’t tell where the human ended and the horse began, where the smooth hide turned into dusky skin. Yet the strange being with reddish hair, pointed ears, whiskers, and a beard was clearly no ghost or spirit. Kairu pinched himself and groaned in pain. He wasn’t dreaming. This was all real, horrifyingly real.

  The eerie creature, seemingly understanding their confusion, stepped closer. It casually pulled the spear from the corpse of the dead rat.

  Kairu took a deep breath. Woody was trembling from the cold, groaning, trying to rise, clutching at deep, bleeding wounds. The moment the fugitives stopped moving, the freezing air made its presence painfully clear, and their teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. Kairu tried to stand—and couldn’t. His legs wouldn’t respond.

  "Just a moment," the creature said. It had also noticed the signs of hypothermia. Planting the spear into the ground, it came closer, folded its equine legs, and took Woody’s hand. Its lips whispered incantations, and light suddenly streamed from its fingers, almost like tongues of flame. Woody moaned long and low, then rasped. Sweat beaded on his neck despite the cold.

  The creature withdrew its hands and pulled a small plate of bark from a pouch hanging at its side. Kairu thought it bore strange symbols in another language. Their savior pressed the plate to Woody’s chest. Kairu pushed himself up, bit his lip stubbornly, and crawled over to look into his friend’s eyes.

  "Will h-h-he l-l-live?"

  "And why shouldn’t he?" the being replied. "If your medicine can’t handle wounds like that, ours heals them quickly. Of course, danger remains, I can’t say what might still happen to him, but right now, the most important thing for both of you is rest. We’ll go to my dwelling right away… Hmm," he added, letting go of Woody, who was slowly reviving. "It's rare nowadays to see a guest in our forest, let alone a human from Linurad, the Stone City… Only bandits and looters wander here, or foolishly bold city guards. Yes, the previous king, may he rest in peace, often sent envoys here on Midsummer’s Day with gifts, and before the war, our friendship was strong. But times change, and so do morals. We centaurs have withdrawn into hidden enclaves and refuse to cooperate with humans, and humans have forgotten that we, their former teachers, survive right beside them…" As he spoke, he handed Kairu another bark plate. "Press this to your chest. It’s the Rune of Fire, it brings not only warmth but healing… But where are my manners?" he exclaimed suddenly, rising and stepping back. "I am Ioran, son of Vaiorat, from the border patrol of the Enchanted Forest."

  "Kairu Kenai, son of Lester," Kairu managed to say. The rune flared, spreading a strange warmth through his body. He felt as if he’d just stepped out of a bath, dried off, and climbed onto a hot stove… The water that had soaked through his every cell now seemed to evaporate. Though he still stood on snow in wet boots, pants, and a torn shirt, he was warm. "And this is Woody Miles. But we’re humans, and what exactly are you?"

  "A centaur," Woody groaned. "Kairu! Haven’t you heard the legend?"

  "You don’t know about centaurs?" Ioran was silent for a moment, trying to figure out if they were joking. "Well then, no wonder humans forgot about us, and we forgot about them… The younger generation has even lost the legends about those who helped your ancestors rise from cave-bound chaos to civilization. Yes, there are few of us left. We’ve scattered across all of Laugdeil. It’s a vast land, but still hard for centaurs to find refuge. Some head south to the wild woods, others north to Vaimar… But for me, there’s no place dearer than our Enchanted Forest, even if they say its time is nearly up. Very nearly."

  Woody silently stood, brushed himself off, and looked at the corpse of the enormous rat lying nearby. Ioran approached and nudged it easily into the water with his spear.

  "Let the river carry this filth wherever it wants, all the way to the Dragon Obelisks," he said. "It has no place polluting the gate to the sacred grove. Now, let’s go. My duty demands I question anyone who appears at the border—and only Friends of the Forest may pass freely, and they are few. But I think this is one of those times when we should forget old grudges and place some trust in one another. I’ll lead you into the forest, though I wager that’s not where you were headed… Not exactly swimming weather, wouldn’t you say?"

  "You can say that again," Kairu muttered darkly. "But unfortunately, we don’t always get to do what we like. And if you want to be free, you’ll dive into icy water and worse. Still, I feel like we’ve already gone through one circle of hell."

  "Hell is behind you. From this moment, you are safe," the centaur smirked. "Come, let’s not freeze, and better not waste the Runes of Fire, they’re scarce. On the way, you’ll tell me who you are, why you swam the river in the dead of night, in winter, and who that armed crowd is camped outside your city walls."

  "So you’ve noticed them?" Kairu asked sarcastically. "We need help, that’s what we’re after. To Asternia. I heard the fastest way is through this forest."

  "Nothing escapes our eyes," the centaur replied, ignoring the sarcasm. "But as I said, we don’t involve ourselves in human affairs. We know nothing, we burned our bridges, and we live well on our own land. That suited humans just fine… Come! I can tell this is serious, if you’re willing to make such a long journey."

  "Wait," Woody said, turning to Kairu. "Listen, today you saved my life a second time…"

  "Ioran saved both of us. Don’t be ridiculous."

  "Don’t interrupt! You saved me. Once in Nalvin, and again here. I feel this debt growing, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to repay it. Do you understand?"

  "No," Kairu replied, losing patience. "Nonsense, Woody."

  "It’s not nonsense. Twice, my pathetic thief’s hide was saved by you alone. That’s a very big debt, Kairu, too big to ignore. So know this: as soon as I can, I’ll repay it. My life is now in your hands. Believe that. And over the coming days, as we travel together, interest will build. And I’ll be right behind you."

  Kairu wanted to protest again, but then looked straight into Woody’s eyes—and some new feeling stirred inside him. His intuition whispered that the thief’s words weren’t just words. This was a gift, one Kairu had earned and could not now reject.

  "All right, Woody," was all he said.

  The thief nodded, turned away, and cheerfully walked after Ioran. It was getting colder, the Rune of Fire was beginning to lose its effect. The centaur removed his cloak and tossed it to them with the words:

  "Cover yourselves. I’m in armor and used to the cold, I won’t freeze before we reach my dwelling. It’s not far… And while we walk, tell me your story. I’ll need to report to the King and Queen anyway. We don’t welcome foreigners intruding into our domain, and you’re lucky it was me who found you. There are soldiers who guard the border zealously… sometimes too zealously, perhaps. Many people have died because of that. What can I say—I already told you, times change."

  Kairu staggered. His body ached. He and Woody wrapped themselves in the same cloak and walked side by side, still shivering slightly from the cold. The sky had turned a cold blue, the color of dawn. Around them stood silent trees, cloaked in glimmering frost and snowy caps, like mysterious statues of ice. Not a single branch stirred in the breeze. The Forest was asleep, and deeply, incredibly deeply, but in this slumber, in every ancient tree, there was a hidden power. And Kairu knew that when the moment came, the Forest would awaken. What would happen then—he didn’t dare imagine.

  "The city is under siege, Ioran. I think you already know that."

  "We do. But by whom?"

  "Pirates. From the island of Talaska…"

  "Pirates? In the center of the continent?"

  "I don’t think you know what’s happened over the past year."

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Birds chirp to us of what’s happening in all corners of the world…" the centaur replied thoughtfully. "Animals, insects, fish bring us word. But they know nothing of human affairs and problems… And yet, you’ve come to dominate this world, and should be reckoned with, and long ago. Your games are dangerous for yourselves… Forgive me. Begin from the start."

  "It’s a long story. It all began when a party of four seekers set off into the Olmaer Mountains in search of an artifact once belonging to the ancient Nocturns…"

  Suddenly, it grew lighter and warmer. Ioran raised his hand, signaling him to be silent. The trees thickened, forming a dense barrier of brambles and trunks, and the path the centaur led them on descended under an arch formed by the interwoven branches, leading to a road paved with marble. Around them, white torches burned, illuminating everything with a bright magical light. Above, the entangled branches completely blocked the sky, and there was no snow—grass grew near the steps, and the gentle murmur of streams could be heard.

  "Don’t try to find this path to the southern part of the Forest without a centaur guide," Ioran said quietly, descending the marble steps.

  Kairu looked around in amazement, marveling at the enchantment around him. The staircase widened, the canopy above them broke, and they emerged, seemingly into another world. Here it was warm, and it was spring. A brook murmured among the stones, filled with clear water, and they stood on a green glade surrounded by trees—mostly vast, sprawling oaks. The sky above was dark and filled with myriads of stars, and a mysterious light, coming from nowhere, bathed the clearing. Kairu could almost make out the silhouettes of huge butterflies with glowing wings, the golden shimmer of animals behind the trees, and swirling eddies of sparkling diamond-like dust in the air. The grass was soft, with dewy leaves and unopened flower buds, and reminded him of childhood in the village, of days when he could run carefree through the meadows and woods of the Southern Province.

  At the far end of the glade stood a large crimson tent beneath the shadow of a gigantic oak. The treetops rustled faintly in the breeze. Winter was behind them. Kairu and Woody shed the cloak.

  "Whatever the season, it’s always beautiful in the Forest," Ioran said, as if reading their thoughts. "We’ve managed to preserve this corner in its pristine purity and kept it from falling into the same ruin as your cities. Our magic protects it… Welcome. You didn’t notice, but we just passed the barrier that separates your world from ours. You are under the grace of kings and gods, and I give you my word, that as long as you are in the Forest, you may sleep in peace. For the sentries of centaurs do not sleep, and the protective barriers stand strong. Only if the entire pirate army turned against us would we fall. For now, our bows, arrows, and spears serve us well."

  They crossed the glade and entered the tent. A small enclosure was partitioned off in the corner by curtains. The floor was dewy grass, and there was a wooden table, though no stools.

  "Still a few hours until dawn," Ioran said softly. "Alas, we sleep standing, and this tent hasn’t hosted two-legged guests in a long time… But it’s fine, the grass is soft and warm, and you won’t even notice falling asleep. This land’s earth blesses us generously. Now then, let’s continue your story tomorrow. We have plenty of time."

  "We have no time at all," Kairu replied grimly, sitting on the ground. Indeed, he felt like someone who had just settled into a warm bed. He remembered how endless this day had felt. It seemed like months had passed since he, Woody, and Dalid had gone to the Cassian meeting, met Joanna, and fled the raid. Too many events, too many fears and trials… He didn’t have the strength for any more of it.

  He barely managed to see Woody lie down, covered with Ioran’s cloak. He saw the centaur step outside, wave his arms to light a fire, and softly sing as he tossed herbs into the flames. Then other, misty silhouettes emerged from among the trees… Then he fell asleep. Deeply and without dreams. No ordinary ones, and no prophetic ones.

  ***

  Everything felt like a happy dream. It was impossible to describe in words, but despite how different the Enchanted Forest was from anything he had ever seen, Kairu felt a sense of déjà vu as he breathed in the air, looked up at the dazzlingly blue sky, and at the huge sun that shone in a different way. It was as if, once, back in the village, when his mother was still alive and he was just beginning to discover the world, the sky and air had been exactly the same for him. And this feeling brought both joy and sadness, like a reminder of something that could never be returned.

  At noon, Ioran woke them, rested and now completely healed, recovered from yesterday’s ordeals. They ate simple vegetable soup with hardtack, but the food seemed heavenly, and most importantly, there was plenty of it. Then came a long and difficult conversation, after which a lump remained in their throats. Kairu had to recount the entire story, starting from the moment the expedition had been organized. He kept much of what was personal to himself, but the centaur did not insist, and even so, the tale turned out long. He and Woody were still finishing it as they walked, following Ioran on foot, their heads turning this way and that, trying to take in the breathtaking beauty around them. The stunning landscapes shifted like scenes in a kaleidoscope, and there was no way to take it all in.

  "From here, at your pace, it’s a few weeks’ walk to Tarumen-an-Elys, the capital of the Enchanted Forest," Ioran said. The road led farther and farther, beyond the endless trees, over marble bridges spanning streams, past mossy cliffs and hills with tiny waterfalls. "Though calling it a capital is too strong and hasty a word for the place. Of course, there is a city, huge and beautiful, like the aurora borealis, like an evening dawn, like a drop of dew on a meadow… But Tarumen-an-Elys is a sacred glade, in the center of which stands a stone, and from it flows a spring—Dellivrine, who with her husband Houlred gives life to the great Ilvion, and it flows on, leaving our land and parents at the cliffs of Cape Linurad, and plunges from the green valleys of Aktida into the salty abyss of the sea…"

  "Forgive me," he continued, as if waking from a dream, "I’m rather talkative for a centaur, but it’s so rare that I get to pour my soul out to anyone. I know dozens of legends, I could go on endlessly, but if it's a bother… Of course, centaur legends are an acquired taste…"

  "It’s fine, Ioran, go ahead," said Kairu. "We like legends too. Besides, I only know one story about centaurs."

  He paused, recalling the moment. It seemed like long ago. September, a rainy evening, a quiet camp at the ruins of Nalvin. Remiz’s soft voice, telling of the Dragon Forge…

  "Ah?" Ioran smiled. "Then listen. I know foreigners really like the legend of Ilvion the Bright. The name of that river comes from our language, ancient as the world itself, now nearly forgotten. Only during sacred pagan holidays can you still hear the old tongue. Know this, humans, that centaurs lived in Laugdeil at the dawn of the world, before even the Nocturns arrived. Aktida was young, and many creatures dwelled in here, until your ancestors, the Nocturns, came down from the mountains and forests, bringing fire and magic, and machines that felled trees, dug mines, and extracted gold. Before that, the forests belonged to the centaurs. There was once Houlred, son of Zerano of the northwestern plains. In dark times for the centaurs, when dragons awoke in the east and flew to Aktida, he fell in love with Dellivrine, daughter of Delnin, king of the Enchanted Forest. Their love and marriage could have meant a reunion of two great, though scattered, dynasties, and their son was to be king of all centaurs in Laugdeil. But on the night Dellivrine gave birth to Ilvion, the dragon Feafnir flew over the forest. Seeing him, Houlred grabbed his bow and shot. The arrow did not kill the dragon but left a scar on his wing… The old dragon was enraged, seized the centaur, and threw him onto the rocks at the foot of the Olmaer mountains. His blood flowed from the peaks into the valleys and became a stream that joined another spring, that was streaming from Dellivrine’s grave at Tarumen-an-Elys. She died in childbirth and only had time to name the boy—Ilvion. A few days later, Feafnir returned and burned the heart of the forest in the Eastern Province, destroying the royal palace. Many centaurs died there, but baby Ilvion was carried out of the flames just in time.

  Years passed. War raged between centaurs and dragons. Ilvion grew strong and brave like his father, and kind and just like his mother. He mastered both sword and bow and became the finest warrior in Laugdeil. But his heart burned with a thirst for revenge. One day, he left the land on the eve of a great battle, in which the centaurs had pinned their hopes on him against the dragons. The battle was lost, and darkness fell over Laugdeil, and all blamed Ilvion… But he had crossed the mountains into the distant eastern lands, through the desert and the black land of Marlok. In an iron fortress, he found the dragon and recognized him by the scar on his wing, left by his father. Ilvion managed to cut off Feafnir’s poisonous stinger, but the dragon awoke, seized him, and carried him over Aktida. The warrior broke free and severed the dragon’s wings, and both of them fell in the place where the great river enters the ocean. In the fall, both were smashed against sharp rocks, and their bodies were taken by the sea. The wind is fickle, driving the waves, and the currents carried their bodies in different directions. Where Feafnir rests, the water is black and storms rage; but where Ilvion died, a fair wind fills the sails of ships, and they sail calmly for many miles…"

  Ioran fell silent and quietly hummed something. Kairu and Woody were silent too, but in Kairu’s mind, his rich imagination vividly drew battling dragons and centaurs. He suddenly realized he knew nothing about Aktida in those days.

  "Ioran?"

  "Yes?"

  "You said the Nocturns came down from the mountains and forests? And then they conquered Aktida, and the centaurs retreated into the Enchanted Forest?"

  "Not exactly. That process took millennia. Wars flared constantly between humans and the native creatures, but they were small, local conflicts. Humans took the land slowly, gradually, and there were even times when we could peacefully coexist across most of the continent. The natives only truly withdrew when the barbarians came from across the sea. That’s when Laugdeil saw a real war."

  "And whose side were the centaurs on?"

  Ioran gave him a surprised look.

  "On the side of the Nocturns, of course. By that point, we had learned to live with them, they were familiar to us, and we both considered this land our own. No one liked the foreigners. But the Nocturns retreated, and we couldn’t fight without them. That’s when we truly withdrew. Of course, over the centuries, there were attempts by Alvens and Kalds to establish diplomacy and make us allies. But they made it clear: outside the Enchanted Forest, no land would be given to us."

  "You held a grudge?" Woody asked quietly.

  "The grudge has worn away, as millennia have passed," Ioran shrugged. "We’ve accepted the circumstances as they are. The absurdity is that Laugdeil is vast, and there is room enough for all our peoples, more than enough. But at some point, human kings decided they didn’t want to share power with anyone, wanted to control even the emptiness. It must be in human blood: what they have is never enough, and they want to hold on even to what they don’t need. And people always fear and hate those who are different. Even beings with the same number of arms and legs, whose only difference is skin color or the shape of their eyes, split into corners, hate, fear, and kill each other… So what can you expect if you’ve got four legs and a tail?"