“You're Pan?” Milius said in disbelief, staring at the new arrival. How strange it was, after all that they had just been through, for this figure to suddenly appear out of nowhere, claiming to be exactly who they were looking for. Their quarry said nothing, but merely continued to smile serenely.

He had large, ornate, ivory horns protruding from his forehead, curving upwards, a very thick beard, and dark brown eyes. His chest was bare but for a little trail of fine, dark hair running over it, and his legs were covered with thick, white goat's fur, ending in highly polished hooves. A month ago, perhaps, Milius would have been frightened of the sight, but he had seen so many strange things since his Knighting that the effect of this so-called Pan was almost negligible. And also, it seemed, he was radiating some kind of aura, washing over Milius, calming him . . .

Milius stopped eyeing him suspiciously and relaxed his grip on his sword.

“There,” said Pan softly. “That wasn't so hard, was it? Now, firstly, yes, my young Dragonknight, I am Pan, the patron god of this forest.”

“God?” Milius repeated, bemused.

Pan nodded, his horns glinting in the moonlight. “Indeed. God.”

There was a little silence, in which Milius and Shakil stared at Pan, and he stared back, still smiling benignly. The sound of another crystal scorpion shattering reached their ears, and Pan frowned slightly.

“Well, now, that won't do,” he said. He raised his long, well-muscled arms and clapped, and the sound of the fighting ceased. “Golems, children of Terra. Very good for lifting heavy objects, you know, but rather dim.” He shook his head. “Anyway, you'll forgive me for wasting the seeds, they had a few more minutes left in them, but I'm afraid I can't allow the destruction of any more of my subjects,” he added to Shakil.

“Your subjects?” Shakil asked him.

“Yes. As you may have guessed, this forest is magical.”

Yes, Milius certainly had guessed that. How else could various parts of the forest differ so vastly from the others, transitioning smoothly from wild, green scenery, to a rich, golden-brown meadow, and now to a wintery landscape?

“I created this forest,” Pan continued. “And it is my duty to preserve it, and the life within it, as the god of wild places.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Milius interrupted blankly. “The gods are real?”

Pan raised his immensely bushy eyebrows. “Certainly they are real. I'm rather surprised at your reaction, given you wield two items forged by gods themselves: an Orb of Triton, and the coin of the goddess Victoria?”

“How do you know that?” Milius asked, stunned, as Shakil gaped at him.

“Those objects are incredibly powerful items, forged by the hands of Victoria and Triton themselves. Such things carry many distinguishing features. Signs of the divinity that produced them.”

“Like your forest,” Shakil said.

“Quite correct. This forest is the last Silvioterrace in the world. There are many creatures in here, as I'm sure you have seen, that would not normally be found in such conditions.”

“The salamanders, and the scorpions?” Shakil said eagerly.

“Indeed. Some time ago, due to the progression of mankind, the lives of many wild creatures were threatened. I gathered as many of them as I could before it was too late, and brought them here, where the magic that flows through the forest allows them to thrive within it as they would their natural habitats. I had many sacred places like this one in the past, but now,” he said sadly, “this is the only one left in the entire world. The rest were cut down, burned, cleared away by all sorts of horrible means. Why, even the Dragonknights have contributed to their destruction!”

“What?” Milius said, taken aback.

Pan nodded grimly. “Yes, there was one Silvioterrace not very far from here, which housed the last of a very old and valuable tree — an Elder Yew. It had many magical capabilities, and was consequently desired for many purposes.”

“And an earlier group of Dragonknights cut it down?” Shakil asked.

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?” Shakil sounded eager, but the satyr-god merely said, “Priorities, my boy. I don't believe you ventured this deep into my realm to request history lessons?”

“Erm . . . no,” Milius said sheepishly.

“Then let us sit. Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesturing to three wooden cups and a steaming bronze kettle resting on the ground that had surely not been there a moment ago.

“Er — sure,” Milius said, but only out of politeness. They sat, Milius and Shakil setting down their swords, their armour fading. Pan poured tea into the cups and each seized one and drank.

Milius had never thought much of tea before, but his opinion of it changed suddenly and drastically as the warm, honeyed liquid splashed into his mouth. Pan said nothing, but sat with a look of polite expectancy, waiting for the other two to speak. Milius took another sip of tea, then spoke.

“A week ago, when we first entered the forest, we discovered an underground chamber, due to an accident with his sword.” He gestured at Shakil, who grimaced in an apologetic sort of way. Still, Pan remained silent. “Our Elder Dragonknights came in here recently, trying to find it, but it had disappeared, and the area where we'd found it is completely in tact,” Milius went on. “Parluck says you're aware of most of what goes on in this forest — would you happen to know what happened to the chamber?”

Pan took a long draught of tea. Milius did not press him, but sat waiting for him to talk. After a moment or two he said, “I do not. It was I who repaired the damage to the forest, but, most unfortunately, I have no idea what has become of this chamber. Nor was I aware of its existence before now.”

Milius’s heart sank. They had consulted the Elders, the Library, and now even a god, and still the chamber remained a mystery.

“Er . . . Pan?” Shakil suddenly said, tentatively. The god turned his dark eyes upon Shakil, who was reaching into his cloak pocket with a trembling hand. A moment later, he brought out the gleaming silver mirror that they had obtained in the elusive underground structure. Milius stared at him.

“It's not stealing!” Shakil said quickly, looking nervous. “I mean, I didn't tell her I was taking it — but I was going to give it back! I just thought we might need it, you know, and I didn't want to tell her because I didn't think Milius would want anyone else to know —”

“No one's accusing you, boy scout,” Milius said, sniggering.

Shakil sighed, looking relieved. “Anyway, Pan, I was wondering, do you think this could be a god's tool?”

Pan reached out and took the mirror into his own hands. He examined it for a moment, then said flatly, “No, it is not.”

Disappointment threatened to engulf Milius. He had not thought that the mirror could be made by a divine being, and excitement had flared within him as Shakil brought up the theory. But again, nothing. What, then, could it be?

“But,” Pan said suddenly, and Milius looked up, the flame of excitement rekindling, “there is some powerful magic at work here. . . . I once felt a similar energy to this when I went to retrieve some Gopalo-koi from Lake Tiberion a few years ago . . . Different, but certainly similar. . . . Unfortunately that is all I can tell you.”

Shakil took it back, looking dejected.

“Right, thanks,” Milius muttered, getting to his feet, but Pan said sharply, “You haven't finished your tea.”

Milius exchanged another look with Shakil, then sat back down slowly, and raised the glass to his lips.

“There is something else I wish to share with you,” said Pan after a moment or two. “There are four sectors to this forest, you have now treaded the lengths of three. At the threshold of each sector, there is a fountain. You found the first when you crossed from the Aurumboleia to the Ferocia."

Milius stared at him, completely nonplussed.

“From the gold part of the forest to the part where the Elders first let us off,” Shakil explained.

“Quite correct,” Pan said, cutting off Milius’s inquiry of how Shakil had known that. “You found the Fountain of Healing, and bottled some of its contents.” He was looking at Milius, who felt himself going red, unsure if he was being reproached or not. He made to apologize, but the satyr held up a hand.

“Curiosity is not a crime,” he said calmly. “My point is, there are three more fountains like this one, positioned around the forest. The one you found, as I just said, is that of Healing, containing a powerful substance known as Nectar. These are the rest.” He waved his hand in a wide, sweeping motion, and four crystal tubes appeared on the stretch of pale grass between them.

“Nectar, as you know,” Pan said, pointing at the vial of thick, golden fluid. “This, is Veritas, from the Fountain of Truth.” He pointed to the one beside it, which held a plain, clear liquid, almost like water, yet not quite the same. “Kratum, from the Fountain of Strength” — a shining bronze liquid beside it — “and Samsara, from the Fountain of Spirits.” The final tube, which held a ghostly green liquid.

“Each of these tubes has been sealed by my hand,” Pan continued. “And none will open until it is truly necessary for their contents to be used. Take them.”

“What? Why?” Milius asked, bewildered.

“The gods have been known to offer help to those whom they believe worthy in the past. I am no different.”

“So you believe us worthy? Why? You barely even know us!”

Pan said nothing. He stared at Milius again, but this time there was an intensity in his gaze that Milius had never seen there before, as though his dark eyes were threatening to consume Milius’s pale ones. Milius swallowed, but forced himself to keep staring back into those richly brown eyes.

“I have no idea if you are worthy,” Pan said at last. And his face relaxed into a wide smile. “But won't it be fun to find out?”

Milius glanced at Shakil, who was looking slightly confused, and then back at Pan. The god was already on his feet, staring up at the night sky. Milius had not heard him rise.

“Dark times are coming, boys,” he said, and his voice, which for so long had been light and calm, was suddenly grave. “Whether you're up to the challenge, I am unsure. If we had a Fountain of Time, perhaps . . . but alas, we don't. . . . We have only to wait and see. Now, I must ask you, kindly, to limit your ventures into my forest, my dear Knights. Parluck and Egor were correct, you do have an unpleasant knack for attracting trouble. I don't know if we will meet again, but I would not object to it. Goodbye.”

Milius made to speak, to ask him what these dark times he had spoken of were about, but the Satyr clapped his hands, and the world seemed to turn upsidedown. When his sight had righted itself, Milius found himself standing beside Shakil, both at the entrance to the part of the forest in which they had just met Parluck, the tubes in his hands. Lumeus and Aleia were there as well.

A glittering butterfly was floating just above them; it took off as they arrived, and Milius understood that somehow, Pan had lead the dragons here. He turned back to look at the forest again, then nodded to Shakil, and they left. As Pan had said, Milius thought, as they sped back to the Cave, only time would tell what happened next.