The Path of the Storm (The Evermen Saga, Book Three)

by James Maxwell

  Ella knew she was nervous for Amber and her brother, but another feeling was creeping up on her, a strange sense of dread she couldn't place. Perhaps it was seeing all these powerful people gathered in the one place. What an easy target they would be!

  She tried to shake the sensation.

  Hearing her name, Ella turned and saw Shani, the Petryan looking scandalously snug in a burgundy dress. Ella always felt drab beside her voluptuous friend but Shani hugged her and then stopped, pushing Ella back and looking her up and down.

  "Look at you," Shani said, shaking her head and grinning. "Lord of Fire, if there's a noble or soldier whose eyes aren't on you today he's not a healthy man."

  Ella blushed. She'd forgone Alturan green for a sleeveless dress of sky blue. It had been a long time since she'd cut her pale blonde hair, and it now spilled down nearly to her waist, straight and shining. She'd drawn around the edges of her eyes with a thin black pencil, something she'd never done before, and on her feet she wore silver slippers, matching the silver chain she wore around her neck.

  Shani noticed the necklace. "You're still wearing Killian's pendant. Ella, it's been over two years. What about your desert prince? You two seemed to have something going there, although I'm not sure what it was."

  Ella defensively took hold of the chain and opened her mouth, although she wasn't sure what she was going to say, when Bartolo walked up and slipped his arm around Shani's waist. "And what are you two lovely ladies talking about? Ella, your brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law are quite the organisers. I'm already flabbergasted and the day is young."

  "Miro likes things to be perfect," Ella said, "and Amber's always thinking about other people when she should be thinking about herself. They make a good couple." She grinned. "And how are the two of you finding married life in Petrya?" It was her turn to make Shani uncomfortable. "Any little surprises coming your way?"

  "We keep trying," Shani said, poking the bladesinger in the ribs. "But Bartolo here still hasn't put a child in my belly. The trying is fun though. A lot of fun. And there's still so much territory to explore."

  Ella and Bartolo both looked at each other and then down at the ground while Shani laughed. "You Alturans are so prudish. Get a man, Ella. You deserve one."

  "I'll leave you both to catch up," Bartolo said, touching his fingers to his lips and retreating somewhat clumsily.

  "Where's Amber?" Shani asked, for once turning the topic to something Ella was comfortable with. "I'd imagine she's nervous."

  "She sent me away," Ella said. "We spent the morning together and now she's said she wants some time alone to think about things. Seeing her so happy… I can't tell you how it makes me feel. I'm going to go and check on her in a minute."

  "And Tomas?"

  "They're putting him into his costume, as much as he squirms." Ella grinned.

  Shani looked wistful. "He's adorable." She gazed around. "I can't believe all the people who've come. You and your brother… You're famous, Ella."

  "Well, my brother certainly is. I'm not sure if fame is what I'm really after. Shani, can I ask you something?"

  "What?"

  "Does it trouble you at all?"

  "Does what trouble me? Speak plainly, Ella."

  "All of these powerful people. All in the one place."

  "Ella, the war's over."

  "I'm worried, though. Maybe I should say something…"

  "Ella, don't. It's a happy day, and people don't want to think about those times anymore."

  "You're right." Ella nodded. "I think I'm just nervous. I need to go and check on Amber." She smiled and touched Shani on the arm. "I'll speak with you later."

  On her way to the Crystal Palace Ella was stopped by Amber's mother. They had never been friends; Ella had lived without strong parental guidance her entire life, something the stern woman disapproved of, while for Ella it was Amber's mother who years ago had pushed her daughter into a marriage Amber wasn't ready for.

  "Ella, there you are. I was just looking for you. The men are ready. You should fetch my daughter."

  Ella wondered if Amber's mother realised Ella was walking in a direct line for the chambers where Amber was preparing herself. "I'm on my way now," she said. Remember her words with Shani she blurted without thinking. "I'm worried something's going to go wrong."

  "Nothing's going to go wrong, Ella, and don't voice any of that talk where Amber or your brother can hear it. This is a big day for them."

  I know that! Ella wanted to scream, but she bit her tongue.

  This was the day Amber had dreamed about since she was a young girl watching Miro in sword practice at the Pens. Ella didn't want to spoil it on a hunch; she was a practical woman, valuing knowledge over all else. Yet when she'd stood looking at all of the powerful guests gathered she'd suddenly had a premonition, a flash of intuition she couldn't ignore.

  "Ella, I know you haven't been lucky in love. But one day your time will come."

  Ella stared at Amber's mother, dumb-founded. "This isn't about me."

  "That's right. This is about my daughter."

  "I need to get going," Ella said.

  She moved past and began to ascend the broad stone steps leading up to the Crystal Palace.

  "Ella!" she heard her name called behind her.

  Ella turned and spotted Miro. Seeing her brother dressed in his finery, anxious and happy all at the same time, she momentarily forgot her concerns. "Miro," she took his arm, but he swept her up in an embrace. "I'm so happy for you. What are you doing up here? You should be down on the riverbank with the guests."

  He wore a short white cloak over his green armoursilk, the raj hada of a Lord Marshal displayed on the breast. Miro wore it well, and suddenly Ella saw he was tall and regal, rather than lanky the way he was in his youth. The thin scar down to his jaw line made him look dashing rather than sinister — a war hero rather than a fighter. His long black hair was for once held back by a circlet of silver.

  Miro sounded nervous, and Ella guessed mingling with the guests was probably the last thing on his mind. "I saw you walking up here and I just wanted to see you before the ceremony. Do you remember the day the three of us — you, Amber and I — sat on the lawns of the Academy? It was the last time we were together before the war; the day of your graduation."

  "I'm not going to forget my own graduation," Ella said, smiling. "But I know what you're talking about. I think that was the day you realised what a fool you'd been, and the woman you'd lost."

  "But not lost forever," Miro said.

  Ella gave him the best hug she could, feeling a catch in her throat. "I always knew the two of you would be together. Now, you'd better take your place. I'll be bringing her soon."

  As Miro turned, Ella suddenly stopped him with a word. "Miro, what's that?"

  Guests were finding their places, yet the cleared space where the ceremony would be held was kept carefully empty, as if to walk through it would be somehow sacrilegious.

  The large, pointed… shrine… couldn't be missed. It was as tall as a man, and while its gold trim and the intricate detail of the woodwork was impressive, to Ella's taste it was somewhat garish. Something in the design reminded Ella of the architecture within the Sentinel. More than anything it looked like a miniature version of one of the great temples she had seen in Seranthia, dedicated to the Evermen.

  "It's a gift from Evrin Evenstar," Miro said. "The Lord of the Sky has always been our deity, and we thought it fitting that even if he couldn't be here, we're married with his blessing."

  "Has it been examined?"

  "High Enchanter Merlon checked it himself. He used something called a… divinity wand?"

  "Divination wand," Ella said. "It alerts when near the presence of anything comprising the smallest amount of essence."

  "Yes, divination wand, that's it," Miro said. "Master Goss was present also, and they both announced there was no lore in the object at all."

  "I'm glad to see they're not taking any chances," E
lla said.

  "We have bladesingers, the palace guard and half the army scattered through Sarostar, not to mention the personal retinues of our guests. We have checkpoints on all the major roads and even the river. It would take an army to disrupt this wedding."

  "It's already a wonderful wedding, and it's only going to get better," Ella said. "Good luck."

  ~

  "AMBER?" Ella called out as she stepped into the dressing chamber.

  Afternoon light shone through the walls of the Crystal Palace and Ella smelled the sweet scent of roses. She turned a corner to find her friend sitting composed on an ornate chair, regarding herself seriously in the wide mirror.

  Ella had spent all morning with Amber and only left her for a few moments, yet once again she was nearly breathless. Amber looked beautiful.

  "I can't tell you how incredible you look," Ella said.

  Amber turned to Ella, and there were tears in her eyes. "Thank you for leaving me. I just needed some time to think. People were probably asking you why you weren't with me."

  "Well, your mother accosted me. Miro's more nervous than I've ever seen him. Bartolo and Shani are enjoying their efforts to make babies, and apparently I need to find a man. It was an eventful few minutes."

  Amber laughed. "Thanks for making me laugh. You know, during the planning and the organisation I've felt fine the whole time, and then suddenly it hit me now, and I'm terrified." Her smile was shaky now. "What if something goes wrong?"

  "Amber, you're the strongest woman I know, and you can do anything. You don't have to face any enemies, only your friends and family, and the man you love waiting on the bank of the Sarsen, desperate to make you his wife. You can do anything you set your mind to, and together you'll make an unstoppable couple."

  Ella took her friend's hand and helped her to her feet. "Thank you," Amber whispered, squeezing Ella's hand.

  "Let's go show the world," Ella said.

  ~

  ELLA couldn't believe she was finally watching her brother and her oldest friend become one. Not only watching, but participating — she knew her heart was racing, so she could only imagine how they must feel.

  Miro took a step forward with Bartolo behind him. Bartolo's sword was bared and held upright to demonstrate that he would fight anyone who tried to disrupt the wedding. Few would take that chance with the battle-hardened bladesinger.

  In contrast to the naked threat, Miro held a summerglen in his hand. The petals shifted hue between blue and green as the flower caught different aspects of the slanted afternoon light.

  As Miro stepped forward, so Amber took a step towards him. Her dress was brilliant white, the colour of crystal, and off her shoulders, leaving the milk-white skin of her throat and neckline bare. Her auburn hair was piled on top of her head in intricate ringlets, and matched her warm brown eyes. Dainty white slippers were on her feet, and as she walked she looked at Miro, and then down at the ground, moistening her lips nervously.

  First one, then another guest made a sighing sound, an expression of appreciation, like the wind in the trees. A blush came to Amber's face, and then she began to smile, and once she started it was clear she couldn't stop, for the smile broadened and she looked around her, meeting the eyes of the guests, who all started to smile along, until all present, Ella included, smiled together.

  Amber carried Miro's scabbarded sword in two hands, and behind Amber walked Ella, carrying a scroll. On it were the words she'd written, words about Miro and Amber she would speak at the end. She'd been writing for weeks and only hoped that when the time came she wouldn't falter.

  Miro and Amber took another step towards each other, drawing ever closer, while between them Tomas tottered about, scattering flower petals and then falling down as he tripped over his shiny black boots, before standing up again. Ella looked out and saw the friends and dignitaries smiling. Out further still, the opposite river bank was packed with onlookers, as were the bridges and even many of the roofs of the buildings. The Crystal Palace began its evening display of colours and a rising cheer came from the crowd.

  At exactly one hour before sunset, by precise Louan timepiece, the two lovers would exchange the sword and flower.

  Two more steps forward, and Miro and Amber were facing each other. Father Morten, the priest who had helped Amber bring peace between Altura and the Dunfolk, stood smiling beside the gaudy golden shrine. Bartolo looked stern and noble. Ella wished she could see Amber's face but she was pleased she could see how happy Miro looked.

  Father Morten began to speak, but Ella didn't really hear the words. She was drinking in the details around her, and thinking about the words of her speech, rehearsing them in her mind. Ella glanced at the most important of the guests, seated in tiered semi-circles around where they stood. She saw High Lord Rorelan, wearing formal dress and for once smiling as he met her eyes and nodded, and then turning back to the ceremony she saw Tomas for once behaving himself as he stood beside Father Morten.

  Ella realised the words had stopped, and Miro was holding out the summerglen. He took the scabbarded sword from Amber as she took the flower.

  They kissed, and Ella heard the great timepiece on the Green Tower at the Academy start to ring in the distance. The nearby fountains shot up ever higher, and the Crystal Palace brightened to an intensity Ella had never seen before.

  The crowd cheered wildly, a mighty roar that drowned all else, so that Ella thought the whole city must have mouths opened wide.

  Miro and Amber broke their kiss and both turned to wave at the crowd.

  Ella smelled burning.

  She looked at the shrine, and suddenly thought of Evrin.

  "We weren't gods," he once said, "but we thought we were."

  The Empire's most powerful people were all here.

  Why would Evrin give Miro and Amber a shrine devoted to himself? Ella knew Evrin; it wasn't like him.

  "Weddings aren't my thing," he had said.

  Ella thought about working with Evrin, and his sense of majesty and splendour in everything he did. He loved everything beautiful, from food and wine to art and the face of a child.

  Evrin did not give this gift.

  Ella looked at the shrine, so close to everyone she held dear, so close to the Empire's leaders.

  "Everyone get back!" Ella screamed. The smell of fire was unmistakeable. She could hardly be heard above the din.

  Everyone's eyes were on the couple, but Ella saw High Lord Rorelan stand up from his chair, an expression of alarm on his face.

  The smell of burning grew stronger.

  Ella thought furiously, wondering how she could force everyone away from the shrine. Her eyes rested on Miro's zenblade. She knew the activation sequences for Miro's sword. She'd made it herself.

  Something terrible was going to happen.

  Ella called the words that would call the zenblade to life, chanting, her voice rising in strength. Under the scabbard the activation rune would be lighting up, red lines travelling from one symbol to the next, colours changing, moving through the spectrum.

  Amber had only moments ago exchanged Miro's flower with the sword. Ella was directly behind Amber, and the zenblade heard Ella's call. She didn't want to burn Miro's hands off, but she wanted to clear the area. Fast.

  Miro cried out and dropped the zenblade as the scabbard melted away. An impossibly bright searing light shone from the sword. Then came the sound: Ella had chosen it to be the most disruptive sound the sword could produce. The deafening noise was terrible to hear.

  Those in the distant crowd who thought it part of the show clapped their hands with delight, but many shook their heads and clapped their hands to their ears.

  On the riverbank where the wedding was taking place, it was pandemonium.

  The guests fled the area, chairs upturned and hands held to heads. Looking at the shrine, Ella saw smoke pouring out in a widening plume. Igniting flames made the danger unmistakeable.

  Time slowed.

  Bartolo grabbed
Miro and pulled him away, activating his armoursilk and enfolding his friend in his arms as he did.

  Rorelan lunged for Tomas and lifted the child in his arms.

  Ella took Amber's arm and ran, tumbling them both into the walled pool of a fountain.

  Behind them, the shrine exploded.

  It was unlike anything Ella had ever experienced; the explosion was concussive and forceful, almost primal, like a volcano erupting.

  Above it all, Amber's scream stayed with her.

  "Tomas!"

  4

  FATHER Morten died instantly in the strange blast. His body was burnt beyond recognition, flesh charred and eyes ruined. The fleeing guests were saved, with a wide black circle scorched into the earth where the closest had once been seated.

  Bartolo and Ella's swift actions led to both Miro and Amber escaping unharmed.

  High Lord Rorelan, after taking Tomas in his arms, caught only the edge of the blast as he fled. His back was red and raw. Nestled as he was in Rorelan's embrace, Tomas was blessedly unscathed, although the backs of the child's little legs were mottled with crimson and purple.

  Yet that was the end of the good news. Rorelan and Tomas were both vomiting blood, and white spots appeared on their fingernails. Investigators discovered a yellow residue on the scorched earth, and the same sickly colour surfaced on the wounds of both man and child.

  Miro ordered the city of Sarostar locked down, with soldiers blocking the exits and patrolling the streets. But the messenger who had claimed to be from Evrin Evenstar was long gone, and with no rationale behind who stood to gain from such a deadly attack against the Empire, a plan of inquiry had yet to be formulated.

  As the days passed, Miro considered refusing the guests permission to leave, but Rogan talked him out of it. The guests were a target as much as anyone else and suspicions were already growing between them. Some of the dignitaries pointed to the fact that the Veznans hadn't come to the wedding, while others whispered about the seating plan, marking out those who were conveniently placed far from the blast. Better that they go; Rogan's difficult task of keeping the Empire together was now made even more so.