The Path of the Storm (21 page)

The sword would only be of use if he could take stock of his situation and see. Miro swam further and when he could rest both feet on the bottom, he turned.

At that moment the shark struck.

Its pointed nose bumped into his side but Miro was turning and the gaping jaws missed his skin by inches. The shark kicked its tail, thrashing in a tight circle, and its tail smacked hard into Miro's chest, taking the wind out of him.

Looking back towards the reef, Miro saw the menacing fin of a second shark pierce the water only a dozen paces away. He gathered the sword in two hands, but the shark that had hit him sped away.

Lapping waves pushed Miro slowly and gently towards shore, and he didn't fight the motion, walking backwards and facing the sea.

A sudden swirl of water and the flash of a dark shape beneath the surface told him where a shark was coming at him for another attack. Miro held the tip of the sword beneath the water, and when he saw the gills and jagged teeth, he thrust out.

The sword was sharp, and the shark's rushing momentum took it onto the point. Blood instantly suffused the water with clouds of red.

The wounded shark thrashed and took itself away.

Miro continued to back away, the water now below his ribs, while the blood sent the sharks into a frenzy. He could no longer count them there were so many, some larger, some smaller. They chopped the water up as they twisted and turned, seemingly fighting each other, perhaps feeding on the shark Miro had wounded.

Another came at him and he again fought off the attack with the sword, this time opening up the shark's soft belly as it turned. Blood and guts spilled out from the gaping wound, and Miro quickened his pace, backing away as fast as he could to open up space between himself and the dying creature.

A massive shark, the biggest he'd yet seen, opened its maw wide and took a chunk out of its fellow, kicking with its tail to take a second bite.

The water was now at Miro's waist.

Turning, he left the sharks to their grisly feeding and lunged out of the water, wading forwards and finally pulling himself up onto the sand and gasping.

He wasn't happy until there wasn't any part of him in the water.

Amber was suddenly beside him, and while Miro wheezed, she rolled him over, checking him for wounds. She finally pried the cutlass from his frozen grip and crouched beside him, waiting until Miro regained his breath and sat up.

"We made it," she said. "But now we're truly stranded. If we can't find a way off this island, this is where we'll spend our final days."

19

T
HIS TIME
, when Miro and Amber searched the settlement, it was with a desperation they hadn't felt before.

Like the towns on the other island, it was built near a river, and they both drank greedily when they reached the cool water. Like the other towns, it once had a dock, but little was left but timber piles.

This island had much more of the strange red rock than the island Toro called Valetta. There were fields of it, like red mud but hard to the touch, as if a sticky viscous liquid had spilled down to the shore and been frozen in place.

Most of the island was dominated by the mountain, with the town nestled between the mountain's foot and the shore.

"Miro," Amber called as they searched the buildings. "Come here."

Amber stood near the remains of a dozen houses. When Miro arrived she pointed. "Look. These buildings haven't collapsed with time. It happened all at once. See, the roofs are covered with black grime. Some of the timbers are burned, as if scorched by fire."

Now that Miro looked, he saw almost all the structures had greater or lesser amounts of the substance on their roofs. Several houses had burned down.

A sudden rumbling came from overhead. It was the same sound they'd heard from Valetta, but this time it was louder. Much louder.

"Lord of the Sky." Amber looked up at the mountain. "It's a volcano."

"Of course," Miro said. "That explains why they left. The red rock; it's from lava."

Miro followed Amber's gaze. As they watched, red sparks shot into the sky.

"We need to get out of here," Amber said. She started on a direct path through the trees, heading for shore.

"We need to search," Miro said. "I don't think we're in any immediate danger."

"How do you know that? There's lava everywhere!"

"The buildings are still here."

Amber continued to push through the trees, aiming for the beach. She stopped in her tracks, pulling aside some tree branches and gesturing to Miro.

"Not all of them."

Miro realised they'd only been seeing part of the town. The rest was here, now overgrown by jungle. It was an area twice the size of that still standing, reduced to ash and rubble. Hundreds of people must have been killed.

"Look," Amber said, pointing.

The human skull grinned at them, the rest of the body buried under growth. Now that Miro looked, he saw more bones, some blackened from the volcano's devastating hail of fire.

The mountain rumbled again, and the ground shook.

"We need to search close to the shore," Amber said. "That's where you found the last ship, at the dry dock."

Miro could sense Amber's longing to get away from the town and close to water.

"All right," he said. "You follow the shore right, I'll follow it left. The island isn't big. We'll either meet in the middle or, if we can't continue for some reason, we'll meet back here."

Miro followed the water, scanning the shore and occasionally checking the tree line to look for ships. He clambered over several fields of hardened lava, wondering at the strange ripples and rounded lumps, feeling fear stab his heart every time the mountain rumbled.

As he walked he looked at the barrier reef that enclosed this island much as Valetta's reef had done. He rounded the island, passing a ragged cliff, and then he was on the other side.

The water was rougher here, and Miro saw there was a wide channel between two arms of the reef, the channel marked with deep blue to indicate the greater depth. Without the reef to protect the lagoon, waves pounded at the shore.

Miro saw Amber walking towards him.

"Find anything?" he asked, filled with hope.

"Nothing. That volcano scares me."

"Me too," Miro said.

"You looked like you were limping.

"It's this cut on my foot."

"Here," Amber said, "let me take a look."

Amber led Miro down to the hard sand near the water's edge. He washed the sand from his foot and then sat while Amber looked at the cut he'd taken on the reef.

"I think we should put something around it to stop sand and dirt getting into it," Amber said. "The last thing you want is an infection."

"It's not deep," Miro said.

Amber looked up at the tree line. "I'll see if I can find some reeds or fronds we can tie around your foot."

Miro watched Amber walk up to the trees. She vanished into the undergrowth, and was gone for a long time. He began to worry, when she returned, waving her arms.

Miro stood up and ran to where she stood.

"You won't believe this," Amber said.

Taking Miro by the hand, she led him a short way through the trees, barely a stone's throw.

There was a shape there, a small hill of rock, obscured by the creepers.

Amber reached up and tore at the creepers, until Miro saw solid planks of treated wood. He realised what it was.

"It's a ship," he breathed.

"Look," Amber said. She took Miro to the front of the ship and pulled some more vines away, revealing the name on the bow: the
Intrepid
. "It's one of ours. It's a type of small ship called a caravel. See, it has a single stern castle, a main mast, and a mizzen mast aft. I remember it from my father's book."

It was perhaps half the size of the
Delphin
.

"I know what it is," Miro said, his voice filled with wonder, "or at least how it came to be here. Toro Marossa always travelled with more than one ship, preferring the safety of numbers in case disaster struck, and he used caravels. This must be from his second voyage, the one he never returned from. We know he made it this far at least."

Aside from a few vines that had crawled up the sides, the ship was in remarkable condition.

"How did it last this long?" Miro pondered.

"Look," Amber said, pointing.

Miro tilted his head to look up, and realised he was seeing a roof, built over the ship to protect it from the elements.

"And it's on huge timber logs, rollers, which hold it up from the ground and also mean it can be easily launched."

Miro walked a short distance and looked out at the sea. He realised the ship was pointed at the wide channel he'd seen earlier — the quickest way to the open sea.

"Come on," Miro said. "Let's free it and try to get it down to shore."

"First let me do something about that foot," Amber said.

Amber made a bandage of some fibrous plant and then tied it in place on Miro's foot with tough reeds. They then set to work clearing the caravel.

As they worked the mountain rumbled, and after a time their stomachs began to rumble along with it.

"I saw some shellfish on the way here," Amber said. "I'll see if I can get us something to eat. Can I have the cutlass?"

"Sure," Miro handed it to her. "I'm going to see if I can tie some vines to those iron hoops at the front of the ship. If we can loop the vines around that thick tree there, we can get the leverage we need to pull the caravel forward on the rollers."

Sweat poured down Miro's brow as he worked, but he'd forgotten everything in his enthusiasm — the lack of food, the close encounter with the sharks, his own tired muscles.

Amber returned with her shirt cupped full of shellfish, and they both set to hungrily. Afterwards, Miro showed Amber his handiwork. He'd made a rope of the tough vines, and taken the vines around the thick trunk of a tree situated ahead of the small ship. When they pulled on the vines, the caravel should inch forward on the rollers.

"Are you ready?" Miro said.

Amber took a loop around her wrist.

"Heave!"

"It moved!" Amber cried.

"Of course it did," Miro said, but he was grinning.

By the middle of the afternoon, the ship had reached the summit of the gently sloping beach.

"It'll move quickly now," Miro said. "We should wait until morning to take her any further. He brushed away some final leaves, still amazed at the caravel's condition. "Let's climb aboard."

The sides were low enough that Miro could stand on one of the rollers and hoist himself up. He reached down and helped Amber up behind him. She clambered up the side, and soon they both stood on the deck.

The main mast and mizzen mast had been taken down before the ship had been left, but Miro was pleased to see the two stout masts lying side by side on the deck. The ship had a single companionway heading below, while the captain's cabin evidently occupied the space below the raised castle on the stern.

She had a tiller rather than a wheeled helm, a horizontal length of wood on the afterdeck that would directly control the rudder. Miro guessed she had probably had a crew of about twenty men.

Miro found the sails in a forward stowage area while Amber entered the ship's interior and called out.

"There are empty water barrels in here," she said. "Also there's fishing gear."

"We'll fill the barrels at the river tonight," Miro said. "And we'll bring as many shellfish as we can. Hopefully we can use them as bait to catch something bigger."

Amber then vanished into the captain's cabin.

"Come and see this," she called. "You were right."

Miro ducked under the door and entered the cabin. The interior was in excellent condition, given how much time had elapsed.

There were no charts spread out at the navigator's desk, but there was a note, written in a decisive hand.

On this, my second voyage to find what lies across the Great Western Ocean, I have lost too many men to crew the three caravels I brought with me. Bold adventurer, the
Intrepid
is now yours to command. If you see me in a tavern, buy me a measure of rum. I drink it neat.

Toro Marossa.

Miro felt a shiver at the age of the message, directed at him, yet written so long ago, and by the world's most famous explorer.

"Do you think we can sail it?" Amber asked.

"We can try," Miro said.

"How will we know where to go?"

"We have to try for this new land. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. East takes us back in the direction of Altura. It's a long, long way, and there's a high probability we'll lose our course, die of thirst, or starve. East takes us to Tomas, lying still and pale, the victim of poison."

Amber nodded.

"Then there is west. West takes us towards this new land, the great continent we know nothing about. It's much closer than Altura, and I think we can make it. West takes us to the homeland of those who had the skill to build these settlements and construct the biggest ships I've seen. There is no guarantee, but these people may have an antidote for their poison."

Amber didn't hesitate. "We're going west. We'll find this new world, and seek help from its people."

Miro nodded. "Come on. Let's fill the water barrels and mount the masts. We'll sleep tonight in the captain's cabin. Tomorrow, we set sail."

~

T
HE NEXT
day saw the
Intrepid
carve through the waves, Miro at the tiller and Amber keeping the sails trimmed. The caravel moved beautifully through the water, easily navigating the channel and heading out for open sea.

With the
Intrepid
pointed west the wind came across their beam. While they became accustomed to the ship they sailed only by the lateen-rigged main sail, which was now opened up wide to catch the breeze. The caravel rose and fell on the crests and troughs, large enough to handle the seas yet narrow enough to slice through the water like a knife.