“You could have woken us up,” Sirius said grumpily. “I wouldn't have minded seeing the salamanders. . . .”

“I told you,” Milius said, exasperated, “there wasn't any time; and we couldn't have all gone — what if the Elders had woken up, too? Besides, you'd be singing a different tune if you’d been the one who was almost melted.” As he spoke, his hand drifted, almost absently, to the part of his chest that had been subjected to the searing heat of the salamander’s feeler.

It was breakfast time the next day, and Milius and Shakil had just finished recounting the events of the previous night to Ariana and Sirius.

“Plus, I didn't want anyone with me in the first place,” Milius added irritably. “I was about to leave by myself, but then he showed up.” He jerked his head at Shakil, who was just beside him, taking a swig of carrot juice.

“And you're lucky I did,” he said, setting down the glass and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “You would have been salamander dinner if it wasn't for me. Not to mention the scorpions —”

“And on that subject,” Sirius interrupted loudly, his index finger pointed sternly at Milius, “haven't you learned your lesson not to go off by yourself by now?”

“Keep your voice down!” Milius hissed. He looked around quickly, but no one else was in the room apart from them — and the small Snoo dragons that worked in the Cave, cooking and cleaning. Each was roughly the size of a full-grown owl, with comically distorted features: enormous, perfectly round eyes, small, stubby horns and fangs, and tiny batlike wings. They were hovering in a distant corner, waiting patiently for them to finish their meal, or else for another request.

“I'm sorry, okay, but I had to see it for myself!” Milius continued in a low voice. “Just like they said — completely gone — and even Pan doesn't know what happened to it!”

“Speaking of this Pan,” Sirius said, spearing a fried egg with his fork with rather more force than necessary, “do you have any idea why he'd want to give you those vials from the fountains? If they even are from the fountains and not something like —”

“Poison?” Shakil said, raising his eyebrows. “Come on, Sirius, why would he sit us down for tea and have a long, polite conversation with us, just so he could poison us afterwards? Besides, he's a god! Don't you think he could have just snapped his fingers or something if he wanted to harm us?”

“I wasn't going to say poison . . ." Sirius said gruffly, "but still . . . why seal them? What use are they going to serve if we can't even open them?”

Milius shrugged. “He said we’ll be able to open them when we really need them. Guess we'll know when we know.”

“What I don't get,” Ariana said, speaking for the first time so far, “is how even a god couldn't tell you what this is?” She held up the shining silver mirror, which she had been squinting at for the past few minutes, as though trying to will her reflection to appear upon it. She had looked displeased when Shakil had informed her that he had snuck it out of her room the previous night, but her anger seemed to have vanished when they had explained about their meeting with the god. “I mean — Pan has to be really old. He's had to have seen a lot, and yet he's never seen anything like this!”

“Not really,” Milius corrected, “he said he's felt something similar to the magic in the mirror before, but he just didn't know what it was. If only we could find this ‘Fountain of Truth,’ maybe then we could find out the truth about this mirror!” he added savagely.

“You heard what Pan said,” Shakil said heavily. “He doesn't want us near the forest again.”

“And truth be told, I'm not much inclined to go back,” Ariana said darkly.

A short silence fell. Milius stared down at the gleaming wooden surface of the lotus-shaped table they were seated around, preoccupied. Sirius’s hand was splayed across the table, the skull ring glinting ominously in the sunlight. After a moment or two, tapping his glass with his other hand, he called, “Can I get a refill over here?”

One of the Snoos zoomed over to him at once, its tiny wings fluttering, seized the glass, refilled it with carrot juice, and returned it with a little bow. Milius stood up just as Sirius raised the glass to his mouth.

“Where are you going?” Sirius asked curiously.

“To feed Lumeus,” Milius said absently. “A bag, please?” he said politely to another of the dragons. He and one of his companions pulled a bag of feed from one of the cupboards around the room and soared over to Milius, who took it graciously and strode out of the kitchen. He stopped first to retrieve Palpatune from his quarters, then continued to the entrance of the Cave.

When he arrived, he found Vrydius and Lumeus grappling playfully, while Aleia glided along above them, almost detached, and Verdona lapped from her water bowl. They all looked around at him as he emerged into the bright sunlight.

“Hungry?” he said, holding up the bag.

Aleia fluttered down and all four dragons trooped forward. Milius went around, seized their bowls (four huge, crystal trowels), and distributed the feed. Milius took a step forward and placed his hand, almost tentatively, on Lumeus’s head as he swooped down upon his bowl. A spark flew from one of his plates but the dragon made no protest, and Milius took that as a sign that he was allowed to continue.

“I'm pleased to see you've made some headway with the task I've set you,” a voice said from behind Milius and he jumped. He looked around to see Calder standing a few feet from the entrance of the Cave, smiling.

“Oh, Elder,” Milius said. “Yeah . . . yeah, me too.”

Calder swept over to Milius’s side and began stroking Lumeus’s head too, and the dragon gave a soft growl of satisfaction. “I am glad,” he said. “I knew that you could do it.” There was silence for a few moments, then Calder looked around at Milius, and his brow furrowed slightly.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, I . . . actually —” Milius said abruptly, unable to contain himself.

“Yes?”

“Have you — I mean, did you — have you ever met any gods in your time as a Dragonknight?”

“Once or twice,” Calder said calmly.

“Really?” Milius gazed at the old man's severely lined face, intrigued.

“Why yes. The experiences were never quite the same each time in terms of pleasantness, but they were at least interesting in other ways.”

“But then — if they're real — why aren't they — you know —”

“More prominent in today's society?” Calder finished the sentence for him, and Milius nodded. “Well, you see, the true gods are not like those depicted in children's stories, Milius. They are not all-powerful, nor are they eternal.”

“You mean they can die?”

“Everything dies,” Calder said simply. “One way or the other.”

“So that's what happened to them? They died out?”

“There were quite a few divinities back in the day, you see. At the height of their power, when humanity still worshipped them, sacrificed to them. But there was a terrible war. The details of which were lost to time, but the gods lost a great deal of their followers back then, and around the same amount of their power. Some died, yes, but their domains and influence on the world still remain. Others are still around, though greatly weakened, and have mostly decided to detach themselves from our sordid earthly affairs. But why do you want to know?” he asked suddenly.

“Because —” For a split second, Milius considered telling him of last night's events, and his meeting with Pan, but decided against it. “It's something Shakil loves to talk about,” he said instead. “He has this obsession with mythology.”

“I am aware. It's one of the reasons Basil chose him, you know. He believed his extensive knowledge of the magical world would be of great use to the next generation.”

“Well, sometimes,” Milius muttered, and Calder chuckled.

“I should tell you that your second training lesson begins soon,” Calder said. “In fact, I think the other Knights are already gathering in the Courtyard. We can go together.”

Milius nodded. He stooped, poured more feed into Lumeus’s trowel, stroked the dragon's head again, and walked off with Calder. As Calder had predicted, the other Knights were already gathered in the Courtyard, which was exactly as it had been the day before. Milius fell in line with the other three, pulled Palpatunde from his sheath, and summoned his Dragonknight’s armour.

On the other side of the room stood Demus, Basil, and Aaron, as well as the four wooden warriors they had faced the day before. This time, however, Milius was not worried. His experience with the warriors' capabilities and his discovery of Palpatunde’s latent ability made the prospect of facing them much easier than before.

“Well, you had a decent first run, I think,” Aaron said, as Calder joined them. “Obviously there are things that need to be addressed along the way . . .” His dark, cold gaze swept over them as he spoke, lingering upon Ariana for a few moments. He continued, “But, I am sure we'll get it right . . . eventually. You will once again be facing the Bellator Ligneas, but this time your task will be more complicated. Rather than just defeating them in combat, you will spend this session trying to retrieve this.” He held up his right arm; clutched tightly in his hand was a large, green, handsomely decorated egg.

“What is that, a magic egg?” Sirius asked blankly.

“That's the problem with your generation, you can never appreciate things for what they are — always trying to find something special about things that could be perfectly mundane,” Aaron said, his eyes glittering.

“So is it magical?” Milius asked defiantly. Aaron’s eyes moved to rest on Milius, hardening as they did so.

“Yes,” he said, with a faint sneer, “it is, Mr. Manchester. You will see what it does in time,” he continued, addressing all of the Knights now, as though Milius had not spoken. “But for now, your task is before you.”

He set the egg down on the grass and backed away. Once again, Demus tapped his walking stick on the ground and the wooden warriors sprang into motion.

“What is that thing?” Milius asked, before he could stop himself. Demus looked up at him, and once again Milius felt a thrill of foreboding. For a moment Demus was silent, and Milius was worried that he had somehow offended him, but then Demus said, “This? This was a gift from an old mage we helped in Cross Country. Rather useful in my old age, see.”

“You're a practicing mage?” Shakil asked, his eyes gleaming.

“Oh no.” Demus smiled faintly. “My mother was — I merely picked up a few tricks in my youth, before my own Knighting. This staff holds some of the power of the mage whom we had assisted, but that's really all there is to it. Now,” he said briskly, “prepare yourselves.”

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The wooden warriors leapt out, and one of them snatched the egg from the ground. He dashed around behind his other three allies, who all drew their swords, advancing on the Knights, who in turn exchanged looks, and scrambled off to meet them.

Milius, Shakil, and Sirius clashed with the three frontline assailants, but Ariana darted around them all and streaked off towards the fourth Bellator Lignea, who had not even raised his weapon, but was tenderly clutching the egg in both hands as though it were alive. He turned tail and ran as Ariana approached, and the half-second that Milius’s eyes followed him was enough for his own warrior to sweep out with the hilt of his sword, jabbing Milius in the chest and once again pushing him backwards.

He did not approach Milius again, but bounded forward and intercepted Ariana. She took a swift, clean swipe at the warrior's head, but he raised one of his huge arms and caught the blade in his wrist. At the same time his enormous foot shot out and sent Ariana flying into the wall.

A howl of rage rent the air, and Milius, getting up, turned to see Sirius, Vulcatrix ablaze, swinging wildly at his enemy; Shakil abandoned his own opponent and leapt to Sirius’s aid, spraying a jet of thick pearly mist at the warrior’s face. They moved in perfect sync: Shakil ducked, Sirius leapt over him and rolled forward, the streak of light rent the air, and the warrior's feet were slashed clean off; it toppled over, its arms flailing pathetically. The second warrior approached them, and over on the right Ariana was grappling with Milius’s old foe, who was still guarding the defenseless egg-holder.

Milius drove Palpatunde into the grass at his feet and watched as the bed turned from rich gold to ash-black and then exploded in a puff of dark smoke. He raced off towards Ariana, the Amethyst in Palpatunde’s hilt aglow, and felt the energy building up in the blade.

“Get down!” he yelled, when he was within range. Ariana heard just in time; with movements obviously aided by Stormpyre’s magic, she dodged her enemy's oncoming strike, leapt onto his back and pushed herself off, landing at the feet of the fourth warrior.

The second spun stupidly on the spot, but Milius was too quick for him —

The energy burst out of the blade in rippling violet waves — they smashed into the wooden warrior and blasted him into the wall; a deafening clang echoed where he hit the bronze and his sword clattered out of his arms. Milius wheeled around and found a shock to jerk him out of his satisfaction: Ariana was once again bounding after the Bellator Lignea holding the egg, but what seemed to be a miniature hurricane was swirling around her, flattening the grass as she raced after her target. She seemed utterly unaware of it.

“Aaaargh!”

Milius whirled again. Shakil had been slashed by his and Sirius’s enemy, and blood was spattering onto the grass at his feet as he staggered away. Milius jabbed Palpatunde into the ground again, gathering more energy; each burst seemed to deplete the sword’s stores entirely.

He raised it again and took aim at the figure that Sirius was grappling with.

“Sir, get d —”

But the wooden warrior he believed to have defeated came hurtling out of nowhere and rammed into Milius. He skidded the length of the grass and came to a stop halfway across the room, flat on his back and a throbbing pain building in his temple. He sat up with difficulty and saw Sirius helping up Shakil, extending the blade of his sword rather than his hand.

Shakil looked apprehensive but took hold of the metal nevertheless, and as his fingers closed upon the gleaming surface, Vulcatrix’s ruby ignited, a bright, deep red. Crimson lines began to spread from where Shakil was touching the blade all the way down to the ruby like veins, and then Shakil stood up, looking perfectly all right, except that his shoulder was still bleeding. Clearly, this was another ability of Vulcatrix’s.

Sirius and Shakil raised their swords and flew over to Ariana, who was still in hot pursuit of the egg-wielder, successfully managing to keep the other two remaining statues away using her mobile storm.

Palpatunde was resting a few feet away, still burning with energy. Milius sprang to his feet and grabbed it, then joined the chase. The other two wooden warriors were slashing at Ariana, but the winds were knocking their blades aside; Ariana, however, had eyes for nobody but her target, who was still running as though for his life; Sirius and Shakil were right behind the wooden men, slashing out, though having as much success as the Bellator Ligneas themselves, and Milius, finally, caught up with them.

He took a great running leap, Palpatunde poised in his arms, and planted his feet in one of the warrior's chests, causing him to stagger, then he released the energy in one blow, Palpatunde still buried in its chest: the blast tore the Bellator Lignea to splinters, and seemed to distract the final one, who stopped dead in its tracks.

A split second later, Vulcatrix swung straight for its neck and its head flew off, spinning, dark against the morning sky. Without waiting to see what became of it, all three pelted along in Ariana’s wake, then without speaking, as though they had read each other's minds, Sirius, Shakil, and Milius all split up, approaching the runner from different directions — then all three of them dove forward, at the same time Ariana swung her sword.

The final warrior toppled under their weight and the egg flew out of its hands; before it could start struggling, three blade points were thrust into it, and it moved no more. Panting, they got up. A gentle current of wind was carrying the egg to Ariana, who snatched it out of the air.

They turned as one to the Elders, all of whom were smiling.

“Open it,” Basil said.

Ariana stowed her sword and cracked the egg in her hands. Milius, who had been expecting a kind of yolk to fall out, leapt back in shock and amazement as a streak of light flew out, soared into the air, exploded, and began to spell out words like fireworks.

“What — what is this?” Shakil asked.

“A message from the Royal Palace,” Calder said. “It was sent to us this morning. We decided that this would be a more creative way of showing you the message, allowing you to take it yourselves during your training session.

"It contains the date of the Exhibition at the castle, the names of those who will be joining you there, and the date of the Royal Wedding.”

Milius gazed up at the words spelled out in streaks of golden light, hovering in midair. “Void Hunters,” he read. “The Sandstone Archers — Temporal Paladins —”

“I've heard of them!” Shakil said. “They're like the Dragonknights of their own countries!”

“Indeed,” Calder said. “Impressive fighters, all of them.”

“Wait . . .” Milius said slowly. “I don't see the date for the Wedding. . . .”

“Oh, you do,” Calder said grimly. “It's the same day as the Exhibition.”

“What?” the Knights chorused.

“Indeed,” Calder said again. “Ten days from now. The wedding will take place in the morning, the Exhibition in the evening, for His and Her Majesty's entertainment — meaning we have our work cut out for us.”