"I see you've firmly decided to leave right away," said Ioran, approaching him. The centaurs had ceased their silent and concentrated work, and the area around the tower was once again filled with voices and the clatter of hooves. The craftsmen were noisily discussing what they had managed to forge that day; no one paid attention to the human. "I don't know when we'll see each other again after the battle for Mainor, if we survive…"

  "So the king will send warriors?"

  "We hope we won’t be too late," Ioran said seriously. "But we are few, Kairu. Very few... So, tradition demands that a guest receives gifts from the centaurs, in memory of the Enchanted Forest. You're wearing a centaur cloak now; you may keep it."

  "Thank you. I’ll try to preserve this gift."

  "But I would like you to accept two more things that might be useful on your journey," the centaur stopped him and pulled out two pieces of bark hanging on braded laces from a pouch at his belt.

  "This is the Rune of Fire," he explained, hanging one of the amulets around Kairu’s neck. "Don’t forget it if you’re threatened by death from cold… or if you are seriously wounded. Fire brings life, it cleanses and heals, and this Rune will cure you of any wound, even the most fatal. But use it only in the most desperate situation: it is a very ancient and powerful artifact."

  "And the second gift. You see, the Enchanted Forest is not the only home of centaurs in Laugdeil. There are places in the north and south where our blood brothers still live, but not all of them are friendly to outsiders. This is the Mark of Chiron, our Forefather, and if any other centaurs see you, they will immediately offer you whatever help they can." With these words, he hung the lace with the Mark around Kairu’s neck. "I hope these gifts help you… Now go. Ride hard and return to Mainor. If we can, we’ll aid you in the battle."

  "Thank you," Kairu said again, sheathing his sword, and let out a sharp whistle. This time, the Hellsteed did not delay—loud neighing rang out from the path leading down to the valley, and the snow-white horse appeared before its master. Kairu leapt onto its back; the Hellsteed neighed again, rearing up with joy at feeling a rider once more.

  "See you in Mainor," Kairu said, addressing only Ioran, "and thank you for everything." He glanced back—the king and queen were watching him. He simply nodded, spurred the horse, and galloped down.

  Never before had Kairu felt such wild power in his steed. The Hellsteed launched forward like lightning, faster than an arrow, racing down the mountain, turning instantly on steep and dangerous paths. It responded to every thought of its rider, and Kairu hardly needed to guide it. As if sensing the road better than Kairu himself, the horse charged ahead, navigating winding paths, skirting rocks and cliffs, sometimes along the very edge of the abyss. At last, they broke out onto the plains and flew across nearly thawed fields and meadows toward the Enchanted Forest.

  Only now did he realize that the speed he had known while fleeing Nubel’s estate on Petros’ horse was nothing but child’s play compared to what the Hellsteed was capable of. All the colors around him blurred into a colorless haze. The wind struck his face like a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil, threatening to throw him off. He hunched down and gripped the horse’s neck, trusting it completely and only occasionally glancing ahead. Some sixth sense told him the Hellsteed knew exactly where they needed to go, better than he did.

  They raced through the Enchanted Forest, but in its northern part, where the centaurs’ domain no longer reached. The dawn flared and faded; black, starless night descended. Kairu didn’t sleep; he was cold, clutching the horse’s neck, comforted by the new sword at his belt. Alaskrit was waiting for its hour.

  Then came dawn again, and the sun rolled across the sky filled with white blotches of cloud, suspended in clear air that filled the Forest with a fresh spring wind. Spring was near, and Kairu was flying toward Mainor on its wings. The Hellsteed galloped faster than the wind, and Kairu barely noticed the miles flying past, the hidden trails leading south, until, at sunset, he halted the sweaty, exhausted horse and collapsed into the roadside bushes, rubbing his numb limbs. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew he was heading in the right direction, and sooner or later the horse would get him there.

  He dined on what was left of his supplies, then fell asleep like the dead until morning, while the Hellsteed stood guard without rest. Upon waking, he had a quick breakfast and set off again.

  Almost all the snow had vanished. The first flowers bloomed wildly, bright green grass sprouted here and there, and the fir trees once again displayed their lush branches without a trace of white. The once grim Forest, bristling with black twigs, now bore green buds and sparse leaves, filled with songs of birds, those who had already returned from the southern coasts and the hot jungles of the Eastern Province. The days passed, April was approaching. On March 29th, the road brought the horse and rider to the bank of a turbulent but narrow river, flanked by woods. Kairu guessed this was the Dellivrine, the western bend of its loop. That meant he was close to his goal… On March 30th, the road continued beside the river flowing southwest, and in the evening of March 31st, the horse suddenly veered off, slowed to a trot, and moved through dense forest. A few minutes later, Kairu heard voices through the trees and soon stumbled upon an outpost. The sentries seemed to leap from the ground, aiming crossbows at him.

  "And what miracle is this, riding through the forest on horseback?" a soldier asked, eyeing him in amazement. "Maybe I should put an arrow through his forehead?"

  "Easy," Kairu said calmly. "I’m here to see Telorand."

  "Really? Or did you desert the army in Asternia?"

  "That’s none of your concern. I’ve come back and intend to continue serving. Isn’t that clear?"

  "Either way, you can’t see the general," the second guard snapped. "Day’s over. Only we’re left here in case of enemy scouts… Got any money?"

  "What the hell would I need that for in the forest?"

  "Then you’ll be sleeping here… I’m joking," he spat, lowering his crossbow and letting out a raspy laugh. "Force of habit. Go on."

  "Tell me, good man, how far are we to Mainor?"

  "They say it’s not far. Pirate foragers have already reached here, must mean they’ve got nothing left to eat at their camp. I hope they froze their asses off over the winter, so we’ll take them while they’re still cold."

  "Ha," Kairu said softly. "Wait for it. Cassander’s with them, and he’s as cunning as they come. You won’t scare him easily… Good night, lads, and thanks for letting me through."

  "We can tell you’re one of ours. Go on!"

  Kairu didn’t hesitate, he rode past, and the sentries lazily sank back into the underbrush, which provided excellent camouflage. Suddenly, the trees parted, and he found himself at the edge of a clearing where several detachments had set up camp. Beyond the trees, the flickering of countless campfires marked the encampment of the Northern Province’s army. Kairu rode across the clearing, glancing around—soldiers sitting by the fires stared at him in surprise—and almost immediately spotted Woody, who jumped up and ran over to him. Kairu dismounted, slapped the horse’s flank, wiped the sweat from his brow, and said:

  "Hey… Damn, I made it after all!"

  "You galloped from the Dragon Forge to our camp in ten days?" Woody asked, stunned. "Wow! What a pace! So, did you reforge your sword?"

  "Yes, I did! I just couldn’t pass up the chance, Woody, even though it was incredibly hard. But here it is," Kairu drew Alaskrit from its scabbard, admiring it once again. "It’ll bring me luck now. The next battle will be its first true test. And I hope I’ll meet Cassander face to face again."

  "One more day to wait. We moved too fast and reached the river ahead of schedule. At dawn on April second, we’ll reach the field and attack the enemy from the rear. The key is to push the main force toward the bridge and trap the pirates in a pincer on the field. If the people of Mainor dare to leave the city and help us, our chances will increase tremendously."

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Excellent," Kairu exhaled. "Now I can sleep a bit more soundly. And I really want to sleep. I’ve been bouncing on the horseback all day and all I dream about is collapsing into a sleeping bag and passing out!" With that, he patted the Hellsteed, who neighed joyfully and disappeared into the woods. Kairu headed toward a tent near the fire where Woody’s gear lay, laid down, and fell asleep right there on the ground.

  ***

  Though he didn’t get the rest he truly needed, Kairu decided this morning was better than many before. As soon as the trumpets sounded the call, he had a proper breakfast with the others from the communal pot, mounted up, and joined Woody in the cavalry formation. The day was sunny, truly an April day. They moved south, toward the direction Kairu had longed for. Beside them roared the wild Dellivrine River, thundering over countless rapids, pointing the way. They moved slowly, carefully, avoiding unnecessary noise, and by Telorand’s order, remained silent. Only the quiet snorting of horses and the faint clinking of weapons broke the stillness. But the forest gave no signs that anyone had noticed them.

  Tension hung in the air. Some soldiers were pale, others whispered prayers, pleas to Aktos could be heard well into the evening. For Kairu, it was his second battle, but even he felt a chill thinking about the fight to come. The memories of Nalvin still haunted him, making him nauseous. He had been at death’s door many times, seen blood flow in torrents, and still couldn’t help himself: the waiting was too much. His hands began to tremble just thinking about the upcoming clash.

  That evening, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Woody dozed nearby, clutching a cheap amulet supposedly meant to bring good luck. Nearby, Kairu heard the monotonous grinding of metal on a whetstone and whispers:

  "Great Father, help us… Gods… Let it be over soon… Mama…"

  "Poor guy," Kairu thought, turning toward the tent wall. Alaskrit warmed his thigh; he never parted with it, day or night. "It’ll be over soon… It will all be decided."

  "Father, help me…"

  ***

  The day was warm. It would’ve been hot if not for the fresh wind sweeping freely across the vast field. It brushed Kairu’s face and made the folds of his cloak, thrown over chainmail, flutter when the trees abruptly ended. From the shady twilight of the Enchanted Forest, from a path overgrown with grass and still flanked by muddy mounds of melting snow, they emerged onto the forest’s edge. The path descended over grassy hills toward an enormous plain, hemmed in by faint rivers visible on the horizon, stretching all the way to the white walls and towers of a distant city. From here, the field where Cassander’s army had positioned itself appeared dotted with black specks—pirates, preparing for yet another assault.

  For a moment, Kairu felt his heart lighten. Mainor stood on the horizon, white, unyielding, unshakable, as always. For three months it had endured the siege and withstood all assaults, waiting for rescue. Now, the time had come. Telorand Elrith rode ahead, squinting against the wind and the brilliant sun overhead. He hesitated. He knew that every soldier behind him was thinking only one thing: this battle cannot be lost. He hoped they could imagine what would happen to Asternia if Mainor fell.

  There was no silence. Soldiers whispered; someone let out a whistle of awe upon seeing the army below. Telorand hesitated, weighing all pros and cons, revisiting the planned tactics. And at that moment, a desperate trumpet call rang from the besieged city, carried by the southern wind. The gates of Mainor slowly creaked open with a deafening groan. From the hills, at the forest’s edge, they couldn’t hear the bells, but in the city, they began to ring. The pirates stirred, shifted, moving their weapons into position. No one intended to wait, Cassander’s army began to reposition almost instantly, pushing forward toward the city. From the gates, only a tiny detachment rode out to meet them.

  "Oh, hell," Woody muttered. "They’ve gone mad…"

  "No," Kairu whispered. "It was all planned and agreed between Geonar and Felm… They know we’ve come. It’s time. Let’s give them a chance."

  Telorand raised his horn and blew into it with such force that it must have echoed even at Mainor’s gates. The liberation army no longer needed to delay. Hearts pounded so hard it felt like ribs would crack; vision blurred with fear, and Kairu, shivering, feeling his heart pounding in his chest, lashed the Hellsteed, drew his sword, screamed out of his lungs, and charged forward. The horns blared. Several thousand warriors surged from the hills like an avalanche, slamming into the rear of the stunned enemy. Infantry poured down the slopes like ants, engaging in scattered but fierce skirmishes and solidifying the cavalry’s initial victories with relentless assault.

  From Mainor came a joyful battle cry in return. The entire city garrison, mounted and on foot, poured into the field, striking the pirate vanguard and assaulting the enemy, disoriented by the sudden onslaught. The pirates panicked. The gates remained open, from the walls, archers and crossbowmen unleashed a furious volley, answering the feeble shots of scattered firearms. On the first yards by the wall, battle erupted instantly, and blood sprayed in rivulets in all directions. Swords clashed, armor rattled, deafening those trapped in this maddening, adrenaline-soaked chaos.

  The thunder of the suddenly erupted battle drowned out all other sounds for Kairu, and in a furious berserker frenzy, he forgot his fear. As his horse, snorting and clenching the bit, burst into the thick of the fight, Alaskrit flashed, swinging to the right and left, spinning and cutting down the heads of those who didn’t manage to shield themselves in time. He no longer looked for his army or for Woody, he was carving his path with sword and shield. The horse aided him, kicking back at strikes from both front and rear. Alaskrit rang out, overpowering the clash of weapons wielded by the few pirates guarding the rear, rising and falling, chopping through spears and pikes, locking in brief duels with each new enemy, smashing down on arquebus barrels. Somewhere ahead loomed the tents of the commanders, around which officers clustered, shouting fiercely and waving their sabers.

  Bullets buzzed around him, but he only laughed through ragged, heavy breaths, shielding himself and pushing forward, breaking closer and closer to the tents, already nearly able to see the hated face of Orwell Cassander. Woody appeared, skillfully guiding his bay stallion. Their swords rang out in harmony, bringing death to the killers who dared threaten Aktida’s freedom. They were drunk on the feeling, hacking away, almost mad from the smell of blood and sweat, no longer aware of what they were doing. They fought side by side, noticing nothing else, and soon, along with a hundred of the bravest, they broke away from their comrades and ended up at the epicenter of the battle.

  Events unfolded with lightning speed, and this was the secret behind the initial advantage held by the Alvens, despite their inferior numbers. Telorand led his troops toward the bridge, trapping vast pirate forces in a pincer. The battle roared on without pause. The army of Mainor, understanding the Northern fighters’ plan, pushed the enemy back toward Dellivrine. The capital's main forces split into two waves, one broke through the middle of the field to reunite with their allies; the other was trapped between the Houlred River and the field.

  The battlefield fractured into several hot zones, each with its own independent struggle, until the battle entered a new phase.

  ***

  "Rita!"

  "I… I'm here…"

  She clenched her teeth. Shells exploded nearby, pirates and Alvens howled and writhed on the ground, and those still able to hold weapons were building ramparts from overturned carts. The pirates pressed forward, currently held off by the thirteenth and tenth regiments, but those two small units were having a hard time. There was no help to be expected, the city garrison had scattered across the field and been pinned down by the powerful, concentrated blows of the pirate infantry, who had finally formed into even squares and struck with deadly precision.

  Rita groaned, rose to her feet, and rushed to the protective cover of the walls, where other medics were already receiving the wounded to drag them to the hospital. Jeremy groaned in her arms, coughing up something brownish that turned the stomach just to see. Her arms were soaked to the elbows in something wet and crimson. She was crying. It had only been half an hour, and she’d already allowed herself a few tears. It was impossible to hold back the pain, exhaustion, and despair any longer.

  "Where are the officers?"

  "On the walls… Some in the headquarters…"

  "They need to send in the reserves… The Twelfth Regiment is holding, the eleventh too… Damn it! We need someone! We need support!"

  "Shut up," she hissed. "Better keep quiet and stay alive. It’s just a few bullets, not hammers and not axes. And our regiment will hold. I swear to you."

  ***

  "A little longer and we wouldn’t have held out," Geonar said quietly. "I was already ready to open the gates, the city was slowly dying of hunger… But they made it in time. And now, everything is at stake."

  "I wonder…" the king said slowly. "I wonder if I did the right thing, allowing them to take on this siege. If we lose, I’ll never forgive myself."

  "I believe in our commanders and in Telorand," countered Maclevirr. "These are men who’ve been through worse… They’ll manage. We’re holding the situation under control and slowly tipping the scales."

  "Control? What is control?! There’s no such thing here, if one division breaks, one banner surrenders, one soldier deserts, and the advantage flips to their side again! The winner will be the one with stronger nerves, and so far, Cassander and we are evenly matched. Perfectly even. But he has more men."

  Ringus clenched his fists so hard it hurt in his shoulders.