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

by James Maxwell

  After offering Miro and Amber their sympathies, the dignitaries left Sarostar in small groups and large contingents. Miro was forced to be polite and respectful, thanking them for their support and for travelling what for some had been a very long distance. Miro was surprised by the sincerity of Dain Barden Mensk of the Akari, while High Lord Tiesto of Halaran was one of the last to leave, but eventually even he was called back to his homeland by his responsibilities. Rogan Jarvish had so far stayed, and was a rock Miro could lean on, while Amelia's support of Amber was invaluable.

  Initially relieved beyond imagining when Tomas escaped relatively unharmed, Amber was now distraught as her son's condition worsened. Her new husband consoled her, and neither cared that they were now officially married.

  As she treated both Rorelan and Tomas in the Crystal Palace, Layla, a skilled healer, said their sickness wasn't natural. When Layla spoke of poison Ella looked down at the ground, unable to meet Amber's eyes as the healer said there was little she could do to help.

  Miro dispatched a messenger to Evrin Evenstar, but it would be weeks before the fastest courier could return. No one seriously suspected Evrin, but perhaps he could shed light on the strange blast and even deadlier poison.

  With so many mysterious phenomena at hand, and no answers to be found, Ella buried herself in the libraries of the Academy of Enchanters.

  ~

  FOUR DAYS passed and Ella had found little to go on. She strode through the Great Court, heading from the Melton Library to the Wrenright Library, her footsteps quick and the sandstone buildings on either side passing her in a blur. She thought about what she knew, so preoccupied she almost ran into a centurion tree, stumbling and walking around it at the last instant.

  Ella was quite sure the device utilised a chemical explosive of some kind, which explained why the divination wand hadn't found anything, yet she had never heard of a people with such knowledge of the physical world, easily surpassing the masters of the Academy.

  The makers of the device could harness strange forces, combining their explosive with a precision timer and a deadly poison. If someone, anyone, had encountered such mastery of the elements, there was no better place to look than the Academy of Enchanters.

  Ella kept running the events of the wedding day through her mind. She didn't know how she'd felt something was wrong, but she'd learned to trust her intuition and this time she hadn't listened. She was terrified of facing Miro and Amber and telling them she'd had a premonition and hadn't said anything.

  Looming over the expansive court, the Green Tower was a dark square against the night sky, blotting out the stars. Ella didn't bother reading the glowing hands on the great timepiece. She knew it was late.

  In the very centre of the Great Court stood a tall marble statue, newly erected after the war. Given prominence over all the other statues spotting the Academy, this woman had been someone important indeed.

  The carved woman wore a hooded dress decorated with a myriad of tiny symbols, although the runes were an artist's interpretation and not the real thing. Her hair was long and straight, flowing to her waist, and in the starlight it didn't take Ella much effort to picture the way it had been, shining silver.

  Ella found herself in front of the statue. She looked down and took a deep breath, before gazing up at the face of Evora Guinestor, the late High Enchantress.

  "Evora, you always knew what to do. There's something buried in these books that tells me what I need to know. Please, show me the way. You always said perhaps we focussed too much on lore and too little on the physical world. Please, where should I look?"

  "I hope she answers you," a voice came from behind Ella.

  Layla looked haggard.

  "There's nothing I can do," the Dunfolk healer said.

  "How… How are they?"

  "The man and the child; they're both comatose. All I can do is stabilise them, make sure their bodies continue to receive sustenance. Internally, their bodies slowly fail them. The fluids they expel are tinged with red. I hold little hope."

  Ella put her hand to her mouth. "How… How long?"

  "The big one, the High Lord, his condition has deteriorated more swiftly. Still, I cannot say. The High Lord can hold on for a few weeks. Not long. The child is more stable, but I do not expect him to wake."

  "Lord of the Sky," Ella whispered. "Thank… Thank you, Layla. For trying." She took a deep breath. "Has anyone learned anything new about the attack?"

  "They say there was no lore involved, but none know of anything that can create such destruction. The device also projected a powerful poison." Layla shrugged.

  "There must be something here to explain it," Ella said, looking out over the buildings of the Academy.

  "Yet the wisest of your people do not know the answer. Perhaps you are searching too close to things you already know. Perhaps you need to look farther, to where mysteries still remain."

  "What are you saying?" Ella thought about the libraries she'd been searching. She'd been lost in all the treatises on lore, daunted by the volume of information on the peoples of the Tingaran Empire. Should she shift her focus?

  "Also, there are those who say you should be with your brother and your friend right now."

  Ella sighed. "I have to try. Something here could help them... Tell me, Layla, what do you believe?"

  Layla met Ella's gaze. "I trust you, Ella. You are my friend. And I think you might be the only hope of saving that child."

  ~

  IT WAS some hours before dawn as Miro walked the corridors of the Academy, looking for his sister.

  It was now the fifth night since the wedding, and he'd hardly slept. Rorelan's state had steadily worsened, while Tomas was still and unresponsive. Amber hadn't left her child's side, and Miro needed to see someone, anyone, where he could let himself be sad, rather than strong for his wife's sake.

  At this late hour guards patrolled the grounds and halls, and a uniformed soldier started to question Miro, but seeing who he was, let him past with a sympathetic nod of his head. Miro wandered the libraries for hours as he searched for her.

  Finally, after pacing endless rows of shelves and waking up half the Academy, Miro had searched all the libraries except one. A librarian pointed him in the direction of the Trenton Exploration Library, which apparently dealt, of all themes, with discovery and travel.

  Miro saw the glow of a nightlamp before he rounded a corner and saw his sister, hunched over a desk. Ella pored over the open pages of a book, muttering under her breath and turning the pages so rapidly Miro wondered she had time to scan them.

  She obviously hadn't eaten in days; her face was grey and pale, yet there was an animation in her expression Miro recognised immediately. This was the Ella who'd left the temple school at fourteen, yet been admitted to the Academy four years later after a short verbal examination, dazzling the masters in the process.

  "Ho, Ella," Miro said wearily.

  "Just a moment." Ella looked at Miro and frowned, before turning back to the book.

  Nonplussed, Miro looked down at the book she was reading and snorted humourlessly. He could read the title from the top of the page: Toro Marossa's Explorations. Toro Marossa's adventures were famous throughout Merralya, yet he'd lived long ago and Miro could see little relevance between the explorer's well-known journal and their plight.

  Miro moved to stand closer beside his sister and tried to read the page she had open. Suddenly Ella brought her face close to the page, reading every word as if committing it to memory. She then stopped reading, sighing and closing her eyes momentarily, before smiling and leaning back in her chair. She made way for Miro to see what she'd been reading.

  The islands I have come to call the Ochre Isles were once occupied. I have no doubt whatsoever. Abandoned buildings were scattered throughout all three islands, in particular the largest, the one I named Valetta in honour of one who was once dear to me.

  We spent most of our time on Valetta. The men thought we were searchin
g for treasure but it was signs of those who were here before I was most interested in.

  These people abandoned the isles many years ago yet I knew I had found a new people for the buildings were all of an exotic design. We found several items of interest including a large ocean-going vessel, much larger than our caravels, larger even than a Buchalanti dreadnought. This foreign ship was in a terrible state of repair but fascinating nonetheless. Bronze tubes lined the sides, their purpose unknown, while the ingenuity of its construction was far beyond anything I'd seen.

  We abandoned our exploration of the vessel when one of my men discovered some barrels marked with the symbol of a flame. He poured out a strange black powder, ran it between his fingers, and then took quite ill. After vomiting for some time, white spots appeared on his fingernails.

  We took him off the ship, but before we left I noticed some of the barrels bore a second symbol beside the flame. The universal language of symbols told me we were being warned the contents of the barrel were poisonous. I instructed my men to stay away from the barrels.

  We resumed our explorations elsewhere, first, of course, taking the sailor to the ship's surgeon. The man lingered for a week before recovering.

  My first voyage to find what lies across the Great Western Ocean has been a success, yet has opened up more questions than answers. Who were those who built these structures? Why did they abandon these islands? Where did they go? What is this strange black powder? I'm resolved to return to these islands, and to explore farther still…

  "I just found it now," Ella said. "I'm sorry it wasn't sooner. I read this book when I was younger, but still, if it wasn't for Layla…"

  Miro shook his head. How long had Ella searched to find this one account? "Don't be sorry. Lord of the Sky, I can't believe…"

  Ella rubbed her eyes. "I can promise you this chemical explosive isn't mentioned anywhere else in the Academy, and this explains why. We can be certain now that some do recover, and we also know something about where this poison is from. The islands were abandoned when Toro Marossa found them, but that doesn't mean they still are. The creators are out there somewhere — the poison proves it — and they're not in the lands of the Empire."

  "And the closest land to these Ochre Isles…"

  "…is Altura," Ella finished.

  "Why would these people show themselves after being silent for so long?" Miro asked. "And why would it be with an attack against the Empire?"

  "I don't know," Ella said.

  "Please, come on, you need some proper sleep."

  "Don't worry about me," Ella said. "How are you holding up? I can't imagine how hard it must be."

  "Amber's strong," Miro said. "You know that. She's sleeping right now; Layla gave her something."

  "You need to sleep too," Ella said.

  "I know."

  Even as Miro picked up the heavy book and helped his sister out of her seat, his mind worked. Always a man of action, feeling impotent from his inability to do something, anything, he now had somewhere to focus.

  He needed to find the people who'd built the device, and he needed to find a cure for this poison. Any people with the knowledge to make this powder might also have a cure. He had to find those who had tried to murder him and those he loved most.

  Miro's eyes caught a huge map of Merralya as he exited the Trenton Exploration Library. To the west of Altura the symbols of waves stretched endlessly.

  "What are you going to do?" Ella asked, seeing the direction of his gaze.

  "It's a short distance from Sarostar to the free cities, and then you're at the ocean. Someone from the west crossed the Great Western Ocean to make this attack. It stands to reason a voyager can cross back the other way. You don't win battles by staying on home territory."

  "You don't even know where to go."

  "We'll find these islands, and voyage perhaps beyond. Does Toro Marossa give directions?"

  Ella nodded reluctantly. "Yes… But he never returned from his second expedition and no one since has ever tried…"

  "Then it's time someone found out what's there."

  "With Rorelan ailing, Altura's without a leader."

  Miro felt the strength go out of him. "You're right. I shouldn't go myself. I'll send…"

  "Miro, I'm your sister. I know you. You'll never forgive yourself if you don't go. The council of lords can administer Altura, and with the borders quiet Marshal Scola can take over in your stead. It's terribly dangerous, and I don't like the thought of you going, but I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now. You need to find a way to help your son."

  With the prospect of action Miro felt a surge of anger run through his veins.

  Someone had attacked his wedding, an attack not only directed at him, but at the Empire as a whole. With Altura's eastern borders safe, the danger in the west heralded a great potential threat to Miro's homeland.

  The attack utilised a powerful chemical explosive, nothing ever seen before, and no product of lore or essence.

  To make the attack as deadly as possible, the explosive was laced with a poison.

  Tomas and Rorelan needed a cure.

  Miro's jaw set with determination as he made up his mind. He was going to find the Ochre Isles, and follow in the footsteps of Toro Marossa. He would find these people, and get the answers he needed. The thought filled him with dread, but nothing would stop him in his quest.

  Miro was going to cross the Great Western Ocean.

  5

  PERCHED on Altura's south-western coast, the free cities of Castlemere and Schalberg jealously guarded their independence and status as merchants and traders. Relations between Altura and the free cities were amicable — Alturans were forest and plains dwellers, and when they travelled on water it was in flat-bottomed river boats. There were no Alturan towns or cities on the coast, and the Alturan High Lord commanded no navy. It was a void the free cities filled perfectly.

  History said the founders of the free cities were of Buchalanti stock, and the denizens certainly had the round features, strange names, and guttural way of speaking. Yet there were fundamental differences. The sailors and sailmasters of Raj Buchalantas gave birth, lived, and died on the sea. Their storm riders, blue cruisers and dreadnoughts were marvels of lore. By contrast the inhabitants of Castlemere and Schalberg sailed the seas in conventional, sturdy ships. They preferred the lustre of gold to the glow of runes.

  The harbour at Castlemere was wide and deep enough for scores of ships to dock and berth. The wooden planks rose and fell with the tide, and the ocean breeze blew constantly, with the smell of salt strong in the air.

  Miro waited with Amber, Ella and Rogan. They would part ways here: Ella would turn back the way she'd come and travel overland to Mornhaven, while Rogan would take a ship to Seranthia. After seeing Miro off, Amber would travel back with Ella as far as Sarostar, before returning home to Tomas.

  Amber wanted to be by her son's side in case he woke, although Layla's opinion hadn't supported that outcome. Layla's words had been direct as only she could be: Tomas and Rorelan wouldn't wake without treatment.

  Miro's conversation with the council of lords had followed the same path as the conversation he'd had with Ella. They wouldn't listen to talk of him staying, and were anxious to discover more about this threat from the sea. He knew this plan was desperately dangerous, uncertain at best, but he was resolved to do whatever he could to help his people, and the woman and child he loved.

  His wife's eyes were red but Miro recognised the grim tenacity in the set of her mouth. Ella looked at Amber with concern, reaching over to squeeze her friend's hand.

  Rogan turned to Miro. "I need to go. Good luck. Come back soon, and come back whole." The two men embraced.

  Rogan then took Amber's hand. "Fear not. All will be well."

  Amber nodded, and after bidding farewell to Ella, Rogan left.

  They were silent for a few moments, the three people staring out to sea, loath to be the first to say goodbye. As the s
ilence stretched Miro saw a graceful ship slide slowly past. Seeing the glow of runes on the ship's deck, Miro leaped into motion, running out onto the dock as close as he could get.

  Sailmaster Scherlic's form was unmistakeable as he stood with legs outstretched, activating the runes that would soon see the Infinity speed past the vessels around her.

  "Why will you not help me in my time of need?" Miro cried, standing with his arms at his sides and fists clenched.

  "I cannot!" Scherlic called, the sound carried on the wind.

  "Miro," Amber said, running forward and catching hold of his arm. "Let him be. You don't need him. You have a ship."

  "He knows something," Miro said. He called out again. "If you won't take us to these isles, what can you tell us of the people across the sea?"

  "There is only one thing I will say," Scherlic cried. "Long ago, my people promised never to cross the Great Western Ocean, and never to seek them out. It is a promise we will never break. Not for you, Miro Torresante, and not for anyone."

  The Infinity sped past, and soon was lost from sight. Miro stood stone-faced as he watched the Buchalanti vessel disappear. Finally, Miro sighed.

  "Which is your ship?" Ella asked.

  "Pier thirteen," Miro said. "That big galleon, over there."

  His eyes were on a three-masted ship with a raised forecastle at the bow and an even higher poop deck aft. Sailors swarmed over the vessel as they prepared her for the greatest voyage of her life.

  "Not the newest ship," Ella said.

  Miro spread his hands. "Who would agree to a voyage like this? I'm lucky to have found them at all."

  "When do you sail?" Amber asked.

  "The broker said with the ship loaded for such a long journey she'll be heavy in the water, so we have to wait for full tide in order to clear the harbour. You two might as well go now; there's no point in waiting all day."