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

by James Maxwell

  ~

  MIRO jumped awake with a start, suddenly on his feet as he realised there were people everywhere. So many of them! They weren't looking for the camp, that much was clear; the camp was simply in the way.

  He could see even more people, over in the direction of the crossroads. They were all running in the same direction. What was happening?

  Miro sensed Amber beside him. "Draw your knife," he said, as some running men kicked one of the logs that lay over the fire, sending sparks in all directions. "Be prepared."

  Miro held Amber close as he led her up a slight rise beside the encampment, beside some trees where they would be out of the way of the running men and women.

  A group of soldiers came out of the trees, running with the others, holding the barest amount of military discipline together. There were at least twenty of them.

  Miro swore. "Deserters. They'll be dangerous."

  "Stop," one of the soldiers ordered his fellows. "We're on the run now, you all know that." He gestured to the camp. "We need food, blankets, gilden... Whatever they've got."

  The brothers were awake now, and most were standing, faces showing confusion. They moved closer together while the soldiers searched the camp.

  "No food," said one of the soldiers.

  "Just a few blankets," said another.

  "You," the leader said, pointing at one of the bearded healers. "Where's your food?"

  "He's a brother of the Order," a soldier said. "He won't answer you."

  The leader spotted Miro standing with Amber nearby. "These people aren't brothers. Search them."

  Miro knew there were too many soldiers for him to take on alone. He wondered if they would be able to talk their way out of the situation.

  The long-bearded healer suddenly walked forward and shoved the leader from behind. "Run!" he cried.

  Miro had no choice. He took Amber's hand and ran.

  Looking over his shoulder, he saw the leader of the deserters stumble and then spin on his heel, an expression of rage on his face. His sword cut through the healer's chest, sending a spray of blood into the hair of his long beard. Some of the soldiers turned to give chase, but others channelled the fear they all felt into anger. More of the brothers were cut down by the scared deserters.

  Miro held Amber's hand as they ducked and weaved past both trees and running people. He knew if he let go of Amber's hand she would be swept away by the fleeing Gokani. They reached the crossroads heaving and panting, but there was no one behind them.

  "The brothers!" Amber cried. "Did you see if they escaped?"

  Miro thought about the bright splash of red he'd seen as he looked over his shoulder. He knew from experience that when scared men saw blood their fear would intensify.

  "I'm sure they'll be fine," Miro lied.

  31

  THE MAIN road to Wengwai was wide and level, with sloped fields of grass at both edges. This close to the Gokani capital the smooth stones had been laid in a pattern of alternating colours, pleasing to the eye and easy on the foot.

  Today, the stones of the main road couldn't be seen through the river of people, all heading in the same direction: to the border crossing at Renton, and the perceived safety of Veldria.

  Miro and Amber didn't try to travel on the road, instead keeping to the sloped terrain to the side. It seemed they were the only ones heading to, rather than from Wengwai.

  "How can there be so many of them?" Amber asked.

  "I don't think they're all Gokani. See, the Gokani wear fitted clothing, carefully stitched. The women often wear those pointed hats with tassels, like that woman over there. A lot of these other people must be from Narea. They would be the ones with the furs. The Emir said Narea was a large nation, with Gokan small in comparison."

  "So the people of two nations are heading south."

  "It looks that way."

  The healers had said they would be at Wengwai before nightfall, but Miro hadn't asked how far away that meant they were. Then, around noon, directly ahead he saw a large hill in the middle of a plain, with irrigated farmland on all sides.

  As he grew closer he saw it wasn't a hill; it was a city.

  "I think that's it," Amber said. "It must be Wengwai."

  Wengwai, capital of Gokan, had obviously been built with defence in mind. A thick wall the height of ten men encircled the city, while round towers were interspersed regularly along the wall's length. The buildings within the walls rose on tiers, an effect caused by each inner ring of structures being a story higher than its neighbouring ring. In the centre of the city rose an immense tower. It was the tallest tower Miro had ever seen.

  Miro and Amber were forced to walk through farmland while the fleeing people thronged the road. In the distance Miro saw Wengwai's huge gates standing wide open, facing onto the main road. The gates were feet thick, made of hard wood bound with iron.

  "What do we do now?" Amber asked.

  "The Alchemists' Guild has its headquarters in there," Miro said. "We go in."

  At that moment a horn blasted, the sound reverberating through the distant hills, so low Miro could feel it in his stomach. The sound came from the city.

  "What was that?" Miro asked when the horn blast finally faded away.

  "Lord of the Sky," Amber breathed, grabbing hold of Miro's arm. "Look!"

  Miro saw a distant dust cloud in the north, unmistakeably caused by the steps of a great many feet. The cloud grew larger and closer, and Miro now saw the tops of siege towers poking above. The billowing dust came from the north, extending from one end of the horizon to the other, moving to encircle the city within its arms.

  The barbarian horde was here.

  The horn sounded again, the intensity of the blast setting Miro's teeth on edge. The city's massive gates began to close.

  Instantly the people on the road began to scream. They were too late to get away now; anyone heading south on the main road would be caught in the horde's grip.

  "Can we make it?" Amber gasped.

  "We have to. Run!"

  The road was now the scene of chaos as the mob turned around, fighting each other as they tried to reach the city before the swinging gates closed. Miro pushed and weaved, his muscles tensed as he held Amber's hand in a grip of iron.

  A little girl fell down in front of them and Miro bent down, encircling her chest with his free arm and picking her up. He looked around for the girl's parents but all he could see were desperate faces twisted in fear, eyes wide and staring at the closing gates.

  Miro held the girl to his chest and ran with the mob, holding on to Amber with all his strength. Through the crowd he saw a man go down, tumbling and screaming as he was trampled by the feet of the throng. There was nothing he could do.

  The gates were more than half closed, and they had only halved the distance to the city.

  "We need to go faster," Miro gasped, turning to Amber. "Get back onto the side of the road."

  Still holding the little girl to his chest, he pulled Amber through the crowd until they popped out onto the muddied remnants of farmland. The mud sucked at his feet, but with his long legs and the improved space Miro was able to make faster time. He felt Amber struggling behind him — she didn't have his height — and used his strength to pull her through the more difficult parts.

  They were now a hundred paces from the huge gates, and then fifty. "Back onto the road!" Miro shouted.

  He pushed once more into the crowd and saw there was now only a thin crack between the gates.

  If they didn't make it into the city, Miro knew they would never find the Alchemists' Guild.

  He lunged and shoved, holding the little girl close and keeping his grip on Amber tight. The distance between the gates was less than two feet.

  Miro gave a great push, and turned sideways, sliding through the open gate. Amber! He felt her grip on his hand loosen but he held firm and pulled, heaving her through the tiny gap, feeling her make it only the barest instant before the gates pushed together.r />
  Miro felt rough hands pull him forwards as soldiers cleared him away from the gates.

  They'd made it.

  "Lora!" he heard a cry, and a thin woman with a tasselled hat came running towards him, her arms outstretched. Miro held the little girl out to the woman, who swept her up as tears ran down her face. "Thank you!" the woman said.

  Miro gave the woman a shaky smile.

  Relieved of his burden, he turned to Amber. "We almost didn't make it," he said.

  Amber's face was white as she spoke. "But we did."

  ~

  THE BARBARIAN horde had moved incredibly fast. Emir Volkan had said they wouldn't make it this far south; their supply lines would be stretched too far.

  Yet here they were, and Wengwai was now a city under siege.

  The great army drew closer as the day progressed until they spread towards the city walls like an encroaching tide. Miro climbed the wall, ignored by the soldiers as he watched them approach. The walls were too high for Miro to see individual soldiers, but he saw siege ladders and siege towers, trebuchets and catapults. Their soldiers marched in close formation, squares of troops in tight files forming larger squares, leaving gaps between them so messages and supplies could move easily through the army.

  "This is no barbarian horde," Miro whispered as he looked on from atop the city wall.

  He counted along one of the rows; fifty men. He counted perhaps forty men deep. Miro calculated: one of their smaller squares held two thousand men.

  Miro counted ten of the smaller squares forming a larger row. The depth was impossible to see, there were simply too many of them.

  Four of the larger squares made up the army's front. Behind that was obscured by a cloud of dust.

  Miro marvelled as he gave up counting: there had to be at least a million fighting men.

  How could the enemy commander feed, clothe, and control such a large number of men? The logistics would be a nightmare.

  Miro watched until the sun began to set in the west; tomorrow the attack would come. He clambered down from the wall to find Amber resting against the stone, chatting with a group of other women.

  "What did you see?" she asked.

  "Come on," Miro said. "Let's walk."

  Amber stood and soon they were navigating the orderly chaos of a city under siege. Boys ran with buckets of water to the walls. Fathers carried children through the inner gates to the next ring of buildings. Soldiers pulled carts loaded with swords, and barrels of what could only be black powder.

  "What did you learn from the women?" Miro asked.

  "The Elector of Gokan and his councillors administer the city from the tower, which occupies the innermost ring. It's called the Eye. That plume of red smoke rising from the Eye is an attempt to summon aid from Veldria."

  Miro thought about the Emir's soldiers, back at the border. "They'll never make it in time," he grunted. "This city will be overrun before the Emir can give the order."

  "You think it'll be that quick?"

  "Yes. We're in a doomed city, Amber."

  "The Alchemists' Guild is in the second ring," said Amber.

  "Good. We need to get out of here as soon as we can. Once we get what we need from the alchemists, we'll work on a plan of escape."

  "What about your promise to the Emir?" Amber said. "We owe it to our people to find out what's happening here."

  Miro cursed. "I know. I also know that time is against us. As the siege progresses, it'll be more difficult to get out. Amber, we'll have to split up. Find the Alchemists' Guild, and get the antidote."

  "What will you do?"

  "There's one place I can be sure to get a good vantage of events as they occur. I'm going to join the soldiers on the walls."

  ~

  THERE were seven concentric tiers to the city, which meant Amber had to pass through five sets of gates to get from the walls to the second ring, the location of the Alchemists' Guild.

  The first gate was easy; she simply walked through, just another woman returning after final words to her man on the walls. This was a poor district of storehouses, tanneries and carpenters, along with rows of single-storied cottages, joined together so they each shared a wall.

  It was a different story at the second gate. There was a single guard here, casually checking the people passing through. Amber was dirty, but she was dressed in the quality garments the Emir had given them, and the guard let her through without a word.

  The city's builders had placed each set of gates a reasonable distance around the circle from the gate before it, most likely deliberately. It meant Amber had to walk around the ring to reach the next gate, rather than the gates being lined up in a neat row, but she guessed it was a safety feature. In the event that a ring was overrun, the enemy would have to pass through a killing ground before reaching the next gate.

  She was now in the fifth ring from the Eye, with three more gates to enter. This was a district of markets and stalls, but today the stalls weren't placed in neat rows and displaying colourful wares; today the stalls had been pulled over and onto their sides, crammed together to form barricades.

  As she walked along the ring in an anticlockwise direction, heading for the next gate, Amber passed six sets of barricades. The rows of two-storey terraced houses evidently belonged to the merchants, who looked down at the passers by from their windows. Amber wondered what was going through their minds.

  "Do you live in Fairview?" one of the four soldiers who barred the gate to the fourth ring asked Amber.

  "My sister," Amber said, thinking furiously.

  "Is she as pretty as you?" another guard said.

  Amber tried for a coquettish smile.

  One of his fellows pulled a face. "Don't mind him. You can pass."

  Her heart racing, Amber passed the four guards and entered the next district, evidently called Fairview.

  It was a residential area, with well-to-do houses once again joined together in rows. Each house had three stories, with a small garden on the lowest level, a wide balcony on the first floor, and a tiny balcony under the window on the highest floor. It was a pleasant area, with clean gutters and paved white stones underfoot. Yet, like the others, the inhabitants of Fairview were scared.

  A group of well-dressed young men, their jaws set in determination, headed past Amber, in the direction of the walls. Older men also pushed past, some holding swords, others wearing antiquated armour or holding hunting bows.

  "Excuse me," Amber stopped a red-eyed woman who held a basket of oranges in her hands. "Which way is it to the next inner gate?"

  "Clockwise," the red-eyed woman said. "Can you help me take some oranges to the walls? The men are going to need them. The more we take tonight, the more they'll have when the attack comes tomorrow."

  "I'm sorry," Amber said, feeling wretched. "There's something important I need to do."

  The red-eyed woman's face twisted. "I'll bet if you had a man on the walls you'd help me."

  "I do," Amber said.

  Suddenly it came to her, the danger these people were in. The danger Miro was in. She saw the defeat in this woman's eyes; she knew they were doomed. This army had conquered Narea, by all accounts a much more powerful nation. Gokan didn't stand a chance, yet Miro would be on the walls even now, looking down at the horde, preparing to face them when morning came.

  These weren't her people; this wasn't their fight. Amber needed to find the Guild, and Miro needed to find something out about who this leader was. Then they needed to get out of here, as quickly as they could.

  "I'm sorry," the red-eyed woman said, and Amber realised she'd stopped and put her hand over her mouth. "I really am. I'm so sorry. My husband is there too. The inner gate is clockwise from here. They won't let you in though, not unless you're a noble, or have a pass from a noble."

  "I must get in," Amber said. "I have to!"

  "Wait," the woman said. "Put out your hand." She set down her basket, and then pulled something from her finger, placing it on Ambe
r's outstretched palm. It was a ring, undeniably precious, set with sparkling red and blue stones. "Lord Byron gave me this once. It's a long story, but he said it belonged to his mother. The pattern of stones is the mark of House Byron. If you show it to the guards, they'll let you through."

  "How can I thank you?"

  The red-eyed woman shrugged. "What use is it now?" She squeezed Amber's shoulder. "Good luck," she said, picking up her basket and heading for the walls.

  Following her directions, Amber travelled in a clockwise direction, passing the beautiful gardens and glowing windows of the district the guard had called Fairview, walking hurriedly until she saw the gate that led to the third ring. If she made it through this gate she would be only one gate away from the Guild.

  The sun had long gone and twilight faded into night, a time when most people would be eating their evening meal. Amber wondered if this would help her or make her task more difficult.

  There were eight guards, all well-armed and alert. Amber guessed the man with the stripes on his shoulders was the officer, and rather than allowing herself to be challenged she went directly to him.

  "Lord Byron said I was to show you this and you would let me through," Amber said. She held out the ring the woman had given her, holding her breath.

  "What's your business in the Parklands?"

  Amber paused and looked up, as if remembering words she'd been taught. "I'm to tell Lord Byron his son is well, and misses him. The officers are looking after him, and he's settled in for the night."

  "Oh," the officer said, making way for Amber to get past. "I see."

  He handed Amber back the ring, and she nodded and smiled as she passed the guards and entered between the open arms of the ornate gate.

  Then she heard a voice behind her. "Wait a minute, captain. Lord Byron doesn't have a son."

  The officer cursed as Amber burst into a run. "Stop her!"

  Amber had spent the day running but she forced fatigued muscles into action, her desperation spurring her on. Behind her she heard the heavy boots of the soldiers as they chased her, and she looked for somewhere to hide.