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

by James Maxwell

  The revenant sat up.

  "Rise and stand," Ella said.

  She stood back to make space around the wooden table. The revenant slid off the table and rose to stand tall, looming over Ella, her dead eyes filling Ella with fear, but also with accomplishment.

  "Well done, Ella," Aldrik said. "Working alone, you brought a draug back in sixteen hours. Quite an accomplishment, I must say."

  Ella looked at the Dain, who nodded at her and then walked away. Was he pleased? The three necromancers also left, leaving Ella standing with Aldrik and the revenant.

  "What is your name?" Ella suddenly said to the woman.

  She stayed silent.

  "Ella," Aldrik said, "you know she can't speak."

  "Walk to the wall, touch it, and return," Ella said.

  The revenant didn't move.

  "Your instructions are too complex, Ella," the plump necromancer said. "She will only understand the simplest commands. For fighting draugar we actually inscribe a system of battle sequences into the runes. It makes for more coordinated action, although a draug can generally fight on its own when challenged."

  Ella was frustrated. "I need to know how to bring back more of who it was. Not much more, but more than this."

  "Ella, that's enough for one day. There are more things I can teach you, but they are elements of detail, such as how to give a group of draugar a formation and teach them to fight cohesively. You have learned all I have to teach."

  "Can I ask you one last question?" Ella asked.

  "What is it?"

  "How long can you wait? If a body has been in the ground a long time, how long before it can't be brought back?"

  "I don't know what you intend, Enchantress, and I'm not sure that I want to know. But I will tell you one thing."

  Aldrik met Ella's gaze.

  "I have shown you our process. This is the only way it should be done."

  ~

  ELLA paced around Oma Jen's house, wondering where she would be able to find the knowledge she needed. She'd read Aldrik's books cover to cover, but there was still something missing.

  Oma Jen opened the front door, entering with a basket of groceries in her arms.

  "Here, let me get that for you," Ella said. She took the basket from the old woman's arms and followed her into the kitchen.

  "You look unhappy," Oma Jen said. "I heard you impressed the Dain today. Why the glum face?"

  Ella wondered if she could open up to her generous host. "It's Aldrik. Or perhaps it's all of them. I need to know more."

  "You should visit Barnabas," Oma Jen said.

  Ella put down the basket of groceries. "Who?"

  "Barnabas. He was Renrik's teacher. They expelled him from the order, but in his day there wasn't anyone better."

  "Why did they expel him?"

  "He never took much notice of their rules. You might not understand, but morality is a constant source of contention for the order. Barnabas did things they considered… questionable."

  Ella's eyes lit up. "How can I find him?"

  "He has a small house on the far side of the city. You can't miss it; it's the one with the bones scattered out the front. He's an odd one."

  Ella remembered the house. "Do you mind if I go there now?"

  "You'll do what you need to do," Oma Jen said, smiling. "I'll save your dinner."

  "Thank you," Ella said, touching the old woman's shoulder.

  Oma Jen turned back to her groceries, smiling and shaking her head.

  ~

  "WHAT is it?" a voice grumbled when Ella knocked. "Don't you know it's late?"

  Ella knocked again, and finally heard the stumping of footsteps. A moment later, the door opened, and a withered face peered at her.

  Barnabas might have once been tall, but he was now stooped with age. Ella guessed he was blind in one eye, for it was rheumy and wept fluid.

  "Well, hello there," Barnabas said. "Never mind what I said, it's never too late. Pretty young thing, aren't you?"

  "I'm Ella. Do you mind if I come in?"

  "Ella… Ella… Where have I heard that name? Of course you can come in." Barnabas stepped aside. In the light, Ella could now see he wore a dirty grey robe, stuck to his thin frame like a sheet caught on a tree.

  "Now," Barnabas said as Ella entered the house. "How does this work? Kayan sent you for my birthday, did he? Has he paid you?"

  "No," Ella said, bemused, "no one sent me."

  "Then why are you here?" Barnabas said, gesturing for Ella to take a seat on a padded chair and then seating himself.

  Ella looked around the small house. Bones were everywhere. A human skeleton had been erected on a frame in the corner and a dozen skulls lined the mantel above the hearth. In another corner, a huge white bear had been stuffed and manipulated into a snarling pose of attack.

  "I'm an enchantress, from Altura. I'm learning…"

  "Ah, now I remember. I do stay in touch, you know. You've been learning from young Aldrik." His face fell. "Which means you're not here for my birthday."

  "No," Ella said, smiling. "I'm afraid I'm not."

  "And how are you finding Aldrik?"

  "He's been very helpful," Ella said.

  Barnabas snorted. "Helpful? He's not even third order. He wouldn't know how to raise a flag."

  "Oma Jen said I should talk to you," Ella said. "She said there's no one better."

  "She did, did she? Will you do something for me, Ella?"

  "Of course."

  "Make me a hot mug of spiced wine, will you? Everything you need is over there."

  Flustered, Ella went to do the old man's bidding. She filled a copper pot with wine from a bladder and added spices from jars on a rack. She wasn't sure which to add, or how much, so she put in a small amount of each. Taking the copper pot over to the fire, Ella waited until steam rose from the pot. She filled an earthenware mug and took it to Barnabas.

  "Urgh," said Barnabas. "This is foul. What did you put in here? Redspice?"

  "Will you teach me?" Ella asked.

  Barnabas took another sip. "It depends. What do you want to know?"

  "I want to know how to bring back someone who has been in the ground a long time. I also need them to have some memory, more than what Aldrik showed me."

  "Only a master can do that," Barnabas said.

  "You were a master, weren't you?"

  "Still am!"

  "Of course. That's why I came to you."

  "Take a look at that bear in the corner, would you?"

  Ella walked over to the white bear, looking up at the jagged teeth lining its open mouth.

  Barnabas suddenly spoke an activation sequence. Somehow, Ella knew it; she'd heard it before.

  The bear's huge paw moved, taking a swipe at Ella's head.

  Ella spoke without thinking.

  "Taun-tah!"

  The bear was still.

  Barnabas chuckled. Ella was perplexed. The bear hadn't been brought back like she had brought back the woman earlier that day. It was just a stuffed bear.

  She stepped back and examined the bear again. Now that she was looking, she could see symbols on the fur, faint but unmistakeable. This wasn't the lore of the Akari.

  Ella turned to Barnabas, shocked. "You were using animator's runes!"

  Barnabas nodded. "All of the great masters are those who figure out how to merge runes from the different schools together. I needed to see if you were ready."

  The old man put down his empty mug and looked at Ella out of his one good eye. She could see he was treating her differently now.

  "The limbs of an old body can't move themselves anymore, they don't have the strength. Animator's runes are required, just like a golem."

  "What about the mind?"

  "The mind is different. It can never be fully restored. Our lore is not a way to achieve eternal life. If you are looking to bring back a loved one, then I have bad news for you."

  "No," Ella said. "That's not it."

  "Are you
sure?"

  "Yes."

  "Aldrik told you the problem, about what happens when the mind snaps?"

  Ella gulped. "Yes."

  "Then perhaps you are ready. But first things first. We need to agree a price."

  "What do you want?"

  The old Akari put his feet up on a stool and kicked off his slippers. "It's my birthday," Barnabas said. "I'd like a foot rub."

  Killian had better appreciate this, Ella thought.

  Sighing, she knelt down next to the old man's feet.

  16

  MIRO and Amber had made it to the Ochre Isles. Weakened, worried, stranded far from home, they had little cause to celebrate.

  They slept that first night on the floor of the longboat, a deep sleep of exhaustion with a piece of canvas used to ward off the night's chill. As it grew light, Miro woke first, leaving Amber to rest while he exited and took stock of their situation.

  They had drawn the longboat up on a short sandy beach. Small waves knocked against the shore, while in the distance the barrier reef was outlined by breakers. Flotsam lined the shore: planks of wood, barrels, and even clothing. There were no bodies.

  Miro stretched his arm, looking at the wound he'd taken on his side. Fortunately it had crusted over and was already healing. He gazed out at the reef, shielding his eyes from the rising sun, but the Delphin was gone: broken up, scattered and sunk. He felt the sand crunch beneath his bare feet as he walked down to the water and scanned for anything worth salvaging. Miro began to carry anything undamaged above the high water mark. Two barrels were filled with seawater, their contents lost, but another three were still sealed tight. He grunted as he lifted each barrel and struggled with it before fetching the next.

  When he was done, he reached into the longboat and took the cutlass in his hand. They needed to see if the island was inhabited, and Miro wasn't taking any chances.

  His movements woke Amber. "Where are we?" she asked as she sat up.

  "The Ochre Isles," Miro said grimly. He watched remembrance dawn in Amber's eyes.

  "The ship," she said. "Did anyone survive?"

  "No. I've saved some barrels that washed up on the shore, but that's all. We're out of danger for now, but we need to think about supplies. Can you tell me what we managed to take in the longboat?"

  Amber rummaged around. She used the axe to pry open each of the barrels they'd taken with them. "Four barrels, all with fresh water. This axe. Three sets of oars. A square of canvas. Two lengths of rope, one longer, one shorter. That's it."

  Miro went to the first of the three barrels he'd picked up from the shore. He used the hilt of his cutlass to open the lid, and then made a pleased sound. "This one has dried fruit." He opened the next. "Oats." Miro dug his hand into the oats. "They're good." The last barrel's lid was stuck, but he finally levered it open. "More water."

  "Plenty of water, plus dried fruit, and oats," Amber said. "We were lucky."

  "Yes," Miro said, remembering his sense of helplessness when they'd been at the mercy of the mutineers. "We were."

  Miro looked around, giving the island a full examination for the first time. Further up from the shoreline, thick brush came down to the sand, a horde of spiky trees with gnarled trunks. He could see the land rising behind the trees, but it was difficult to tell how big the island was. The beach continued ahead to a rocky promontory, where gulls wheeled above the headland. Behind them, the opposite end of the small bay could be judged by a long stretch of rock.

  The channel through which the galleon had entered was marked by water that was a deeper shade of blue. The lagoon was calm, but behind the reef the waves were huge.

  Aside from the sound of tumbling waves, the cries of gulls, and the ocean breeze rustling in the trees, there was silence. Their voices jarred against the sound of nature. Miro had the feeling that even if people had once been here, they hadn't been here in a very long time.

  The rock at both ends of the beach was a strange shade of red, the colour of rust. Miro now knew how Toro Marossa had come up with the name, Ochre Isles.

  "Here, help me out," Amber said.

  "Of course." Miro held out a hand and Amber stepped out of the longboat.

  "It feels good to have solid ground beneath my feet again. Lord of the Sky, what a journey."

  Miro wondered what he could have done differently.

  "How will we get back?" Amber asked. "What about Tomas?"

  "I'll find a way," Miro said, "I promise. For now, though, we need to think about survival. Here, help me pull the longboat further up the beach."

  It took a mighty struggle, but finally Miro was satisfied they'd pulled it farther than could be reached by the highest tide. They went back for the barrels, stacking them in a row alongside.

  Puffing and panting after their exertions, Miro and Amber both drank some of the water, cupping it in their hands.

  They were now closer to the trees. Miro took the oars and the square of canvas out of the longboat. "We need to make a shelter while we have plenty of daylight ahead of us. Help me find a clearing with some thick branches overhead. And, Amber?"

  "Yes?"

  "Keep an eye out for people."

  Miro searched for a suitable clearing while Amber also looked a small way away.

  "How's this?" Amber called.

  Miro came over to where Amber stood in a patch of sand underneath the spread arms of a huge tree. The lower branches were the height of Miro's head. "Perfect," Miro said.

  He went back for the axe, and then trimmed the horizontal branches to remove the drooping foliage. Miro then used the axe to dig holes and planted the six oars in a row, with Amber assisting.

  While Miro draped the canvas over the branches to make an improvised roof, Amber disappeared with the axe, returning with a willowy sapling she'd felled. It was long and thin, with green leaves and an easy spring. Amber threaded the sapling through the oars and then went back for another. Soon, she'd formed a wall.

  Miro finished tying down the canvas and stood back to regard the shelter.

  It was basic, with just the one wall and a roof, but it was something.

  "Where will we put the kitchen?" Amber asked.

  Miro turned to her and barked a laugh. Amber smiled and Miro put an arm around her.

  They went back to the beach and searched the washed up clothing, salvaging a hemp sack and a sailor's woollen vest. Miro was hanging them on the branches of a tree to dry in the sun when he heard a cry.

  His sword in his hand, he ran back down to the beach.

  Amber stood in water to her knees, gingerly trying to take hold of a body that had come in with the tide. The sailor was floating on his stomach. Miro waded into the shallows and Amber stood back while he rolled the man over. The man's eyes stared wide, but he'd evidently drowned, escaping the sharks. Miro didn't recognise him.

  "What should we do?" Amber said.

  "Go back to the shelter," said Miro. "Leave it with me."

  Miro dragged the body up onto the beach and then further, until he was up at the trees a fair distance from the shelter. He didn't relish this task, but while he wore a shirt and trousers, Amber still wore only a nightdress.

  Miro stripped the man's shirt and leggings from him, hanging them on a tree nearby. He began to dig at the sandy ground, and kept digging until sweat dripped down his brow and his arms ached.

  When he was done burying the body, Miro took the dead man's clothes back to the shelter, hanging them with the vest and sack.

  Amber had been busy making a mat of thick fronds. She'd also rolled a log to the shelter, and was now sitting on it.

  "You look exhausted," Amber said. "Sit down, here, have some dried figs."

  Miro seated himself and then spoke while he ate. "Our needs are water, food, shelter, warmth and rescue. We now have clothing and if we tear that sack open we can improvise a blanket. Warmth shouldn't be a problem. It doesn't seem to be cold in these parts. Rescue, on the other hand, is out of the question. The only way we'
ll get off this island is if we do it ourselves. Which brings me to the next imperative — exploration."

  "We should split up," Amber said.

  Miro opened his mouth to object.

  "You know we should. There's a whole island to explore, and we need to cover ground as quickly as possible. I can take the sword, while you take the axe."

  "I'll tell you what," Miro said. "There's a tall hill that doesn't look too far away. I saw it from the beach. Let's climb there together. We can take a look around and make a plan where we'll explore."

  The clothing was now dry, and Miro dressed himself in the dead sailor's clothing while he gave Amber his own trousers and shirt. She made a belt out of a piece of rope, grumbling at the over-sized garments.

  "I've always fancied you in my clothing." Miro grinned.

  Miro gave Amber the cutlass while he took the axe. He led Amber back to the beach, and they walked along it until they were level with the hill, before heading into the trees. It was tough going, and they were both scratched and panting by the time they ascended to the top of the rocky outcrop.

  From their vantage they could now see much more of the island. The first thing Miro saw, looking out at the sea, were two other islands nearby, one close and one far, both surrounded by rings of reef and still blue lagoons.

  He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw they were on the largest of the three islands, the one Toro Marossa had named Valetta. This island was still only a few miles long, but Toro Marossa's journal said he had found settlements here.

  "Let's just pray they're no longer abandoned," Miro muttered. "We need to find these people even more now, not just for a cure, but for a way home."

  His eyes following the shore, Miro finally saw structures surrounding a cove on the other side of the headland. A second settlement could be seen in the opposite direction, past the stretch of rock.