The Path of the Storm (7 page)

"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

P
ERCHED
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 silence 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."

Ella was the first to open her mouth, and Miro could see she was unsure how to say goodbye. Who could say when they would see each other again?

At that moment a man in the
raj hada
of an Alturan courier came hurrying up, puffing and panting. "Enchantress, I finally found you. An urgent message..."

"It's Evrin's seal," Ella said, looking at Miro and breaking the wax.

Miro and Amber exchanged glances.

"What does it say?" Miro asked.

Ella swiftly scanned the note. As she read it her eyes widened, and then she looked at Miro. "Here," she held out the note, "you'd better read this."

"Just tell me what it says," Miro said.

"It's from Evrin. He went to Stonewater to examine the broken machines. While he was in Seranthia he decided to check on the portal at the Sentinel. Miro, he said the essence is gone, drained away. The seals failed for a short time, and he thinks something crossed over. Something… or someone." Her green eyes regarded her brother gravely.

"Killian?" Amber said.

"Evrin doesn't think so," Ella said. "And the crossing happened some time ago. If it was Killian, where is he?"

Miro didn't know what had existed between them, but he was sure Ella didn't want to be reminded of the man who had entered the portal, never to return. "The fact that we were attacked at the wedding and now Evrin tells us someone crossed… It can't be coincidence." He paused. "Is this it? Are we facing our ancient enemy?"

Ella looked up at Miro. "If Evrin doesn't know, then nor do we. I'm going to see if I can join Rogan's ship to Seranthia and meet Evrin there."

"What about your things?" Miro said.

Ella hoisted the bag on her shoulder. "An enchantress always has her tools with her."

Amber patted her own satchel. "We've learned the hard way."

"You'd better hurry," Miro said.

"Please, take care," Ella said. "You don't know what you'll find out there. Just get the cure, and come back in one piece."

Ella quickly hugged Miro and Amber in turn, and then she left.

Miro and Amber were again silent for a time, both watching the galleon being loaded.

"Miro," Amber said. "You don't need to do this."

Miro turned to Amber in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"It's dangerous."

"Amber, if there's even the smallest chance of finding a cure, I have to try. Layla's better than any of our healers and I trust her to look after Tomas while I'm gone, but I also trust her when she says we need a cure. This is more important than anything else. Evrin's message only confirms it."

"He's my son…" Amber said.

Miro rounded on her. "He's my son too! Get that straight. I don't want to ever hear you doubt me again. Never, do you hear me?"

"Is this really our only hope?"

"We can't just wait for Tomas's condition to worsen. I can't just sit by and do nothing."

"I can't either," Amber said, "but I have to. I have to stay here while you go. I have to stay here in case Tomas needs me. But what if you need me?"

"I always need you," Miro said, attempting a smile. "Look, I promise I'll return. Nothing will stop me. I promise. Now go."

"I don't want to."

"Go, Amber. Please. It's hard enough saying goodbye."

Amber looked down. When she looked up again her eyes shone with tears. "Goodbye."

"Don't say it like that. I'll be back before you know it. Now go."

They kissed, and then Miro squeezed Amber's hand and sent her away with a gentle push.

As he watched her departing back he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. By the time his wife was gone from sight, Miro was once more in control.

Looking on the busy ship, Miro decided it was time to meet the captain.

As he approached the galleon, feeling the wooden planks of the dock move gently beneath his feet, some of the sailors carrying barrels and sacks looked at him curiously. Many bore the stocky look of the free cities but there were also those with the curly locks of the Halrana and even the darker skin of the southern nations. One of the sailors touched a finger to his forehead, but he did it in a way that made Miro unsure if the man was mocking him.

The galleon soon dominated his vision, with brawny sailors swarming the decks and rigging like birds on a tree. The vessel's name was attached to her side, the big brass letters screwed to the wood tarnished by her many voyages. The
Delphin
, she was called.

Miro stood at the foot of the gangway, wondering how he would find the captain, when he heard a throat clear behind him.

Two men stood side by side. One was slim and well-dressed, if slightly shabbily, in a white shirt, black vest, and tight crimson trousers. He had long greying hair tied back in a ponytail and red eyes, as if he hadn't slept well.

"Lord Marshal?" the slim man said, in a voice clearly refined. "My apologies if that's not correct, I can never get my head around Alturan titles." He smiled and shook Miro's hand. "I'm Captain Roslen Meredith."

"Thank you for agreeing to the voyage, Captain," Miro said.

"Wait until we get there," Captain Meredith said with a smile and a deprecating shrug. He turned to the man at his side. "And allow me to introduce my first mate, Julian Carver."

The second man held a small chest in his arms, obviously heavy, for he leaned back, the muscles in his arms tensed. First-mate Carver had small eyes and a rat-like face, with scraggly whiskers and a balding pate. Yet his shoulders were broad, and when he spoke his voice was authoritative. Miro took an almost instant disliking to him.

"A pleasure," Carver grunted. "Cap'n, I'll just go put this in your cabin."

"Yes, of course," Captain Meredith said.

"A man of few words," Miro said as Carver ascended the gangway.

"Don't mind Carver," Captain Meredith said. "He does his job well. There will be others for you to meet: our helmsman, quartermaster and second mate to name a few. However that can wait until you're aboard ship." He turned serious. "I don't need to tell you this is a major expedition, with only Toro Marossa's notes to tell us our destination is even there. It will take us the best part of the day to load supplies and fit the ship while we await full tide. Please, the Port Royal is one of the finest inns around and has been made available for your use. I will send one of my men to fetch you when we're ready to go."