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

  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."

  ~

  AMBER was nearly on the outskirts of Castlemere when she decided to turn around. She kept tossing her parting words with Miro over in her mind. She loved Miro and Tomas more than anything in the world, and with months of caring for her comatose son awaiting her, she decided she wanted to see Miro one last time. She hadn't even told her husband she loved him.

  Retracing her footsteps, she made it back to the dock pleased to see the galleon still being loaded though it was late in the day. She encountered a rat-faced man on the gangway.

  "Excuse me?" Amber said. "I'm the Lord Marshal's wife. Can you direct me to his cabin?"

  The rat-faced man grunted a series of directions, and Amber boarded the ship, even as sailors called to one another and she was forced to dodge out of their way. It still took Amber several minutes to find Miro's cabin; the vessel was even larger from the inside than it appeared.

  She mistakenly entered a hatch in the main deck before realising her mistake, turning back when open doors revealed scores of hammocks where the sailors obviously slept. Resurfacing to the open she found a ladder leading upwards from the main deck to the aft quarter deck. Climbing up the ladder she crossed the quarter deck and then descended another companionway. Finally in a corridor of cabins Amber saw Miro's familiar travel bag holding a door propped open. Peeking inside she saw a thick book sitting on a cot: Toro Marossa's Explorations.

  "Miro?" Amber called, entering the small cabin.

  Amber thought she would have seen him if he'd been on the deck. Yet now that she was below decks, far from the scurrying sailors, she saw he wasn't in his cabin either.

  Amber looked arou
nd the interior. This was where Miro would be sleeping, night after night. It looked tiny, for such a tall man. While she was here, Amber decided to leave a short note. He would find it some time in the future and think of her.

  She picked up Miro's travel bag and placed it on the bed. There would be writing materials inside.

  With a creak the cabin door closed, shutting with a click.

  Turning in surprise, Amber looked at the door. She tried the handle. The door was locked.

  Blood drained from Amber's face and her mouth opened in horror.

  The enchanted lock was coded. As a paying passenger Miro had been given a door that could be locked for privacy. A simple activation sequence opened the door.

  Without knowing the words, Amber couldn't open the door. The wood wasn't thick; a strong man could break it; but to Amber it might as well have been steel.

  Breaking a coded lock was one of the hardest tasks for an enchantress. It meant reversing and unravelling the flow of the runes, finding the activation rune, which was often intentionally obscured. Ella would be able to open this door, but Amber's chances were slim.

  Amber thought about the satchel on her shoulder. She had essence with her, and a scrill. But in the time she had, all she could do was set the door on fire, not a good idea on a wooden ship.

  "Help!" Amber cried, pounding at the door. "Help me! I'm trapped!"

  Amber looked at the tiny pattern of runes around the lock. Miro had said the ship would sail with full tide.

  Amber cried and punched the door even as she examined the symbols. She didn't know when the tide would change, but she prayed it would be time enough.

  ~

  MIRO leaned on the wooden rail of the galleon's poop deck, where a multitude of people had leaned before, watching the harbour recede in the vessel's wake.

  Around sunset Captain Meredith had declared it was full tide, and without further ceremony they were away. As soon as they were into the channel, Captain Meredith ordered full sails set, and the Delphin's canvas snapped in the wind as she picked up speed. Miro watched as first the dock became a thin line, and then he could see only the masts of the ships and the tallest buildings behind. Finally the land became a shapeless blur of brown and green, and then it was gone altogether.

  He watched in silence, thinking deep thoughts. As he continued to stare at the same part of the blue horizon where he had last seen land, even though it was much the same as any part, Miro thought about where he was going, and why.

  Miro's quest was daunting beyond comprehension, yet all he could wonder was when he would next see his wife, his son, and his homeland.

  "We're well underway, Lord Marshal," Miro heard a voice behind him, and turning, saw Captain Meredith.

  "Call me Miro, Captain," Miro said.

  "I'll try to remember," Captain Meredith smiled. "If you're ready to head below decks, one of my men can show you to your cabin."

  "I think I'll stay up here a while," Miro said.

  "The sea makes you think." Meredith nodded. "I've always found it so."

  "How long will the voyage take, I wonder?" Miro asked.

  "Who can say? Six weeks? Ten? We've had a fortunate start, however, for the wind is directly behind us." Meredith nodded in the direction of a passing ship, headed back towards Castlemere. "I pity anyone heading back to port. A day's journey for us would take them a week in the other direction as they try to make headway against this wind."

  "A good start then," Miro said.

  "Indeed. If there's nothing you need..?"

  "I'm fine here." Miro hoped he wasn't curt, but he wasn't in the mood for conversation.

  "Very well, then. You'll have to excuse me, Lord Marshal. There are a few tasks that need seeing to. We'll be serving our evening meal in an hour. I will see you then."

  Miro had hardly eaten in days. The thought of eating now sent a wave of gnawing nausea through his stomach. "I'll have to miss this first dinner, I'm afraid. It… It's been a difficult few days."

  Captain Meredith nodded in sympathy. "I understand completely. The cook will keep a plate for you regardless, and if you change your mind, you can eat later on."

  "Thank you, Captain" Miro said.

  Miro turned back to the sea as Meredith left. He watched as first one, then another star appeared in the sky, until the dome of night sky overhead was littered with silver lights. Hours later, he watched as a golden moon rose above the horizon. He heard the ship's bell striking the change in watch, and listened to the calls of the officers and curses of the sailors. Miro was exhausted, but still tiredness wouldn't come.

  Finally, much later, Miro shivered.

  Leaving the rail, he found the rat-faced first mate and asked directions to his cabin. Carver wiped at his eyes and gruffly told Miro where he could find his cabin.

  Miro found the companionway in the quarter deck, descending into the corridor where the passengers' cabins lay side-by-side with the officers. He thought once more of food but decided against eating. More than anything, he needed sleep.

  Miro reached his door, but cursed when he tried the handle and found it locked. Miro muttered the activation sequence he'd been given and felt the lock click open.

  He pushed open the door.

  "Oh, I'm sorry," Miro said, seeing a woman asleep in the bed. Turning away, he made to depart but frowned. He looked at the woman more closely.

  "What in the Skylord's name..?" Miro whispered.

  There, asleep in his bed, was Amber.

  ~

  "I DON'T understand," Amber said, squinting against the sun. "Why can't we just turn back?"

  Captain Meredith sighed. "It's not that easy, I'm afraid. We're provisioned for a very long journey, but even so, supplies are limited. Every day counts, and our agreement states that the moment we commence rationing we turn back. We have a strong tailwind, which is fortunate if we wish to make good progress westward, but works against us if we try to head back to Castlemere."

  Miro and Amber exchanged glances. Amber's face was pale.

  Meredith continued. "It would take us a long time to reach port if we have to tack against this wind, and as heavy as we are we would need to time our arrival to another full tide. In that time we will be consuming stores, all of which would need to be replaced for us to make a second departure."

  "How much time would be lost by turning back?" Miro asked.

  "At the end of it all, at least a week, perhaps two."

  Amber put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. She looked at Miro. "What choice do I have?"

  Captain Meredith addressed Amber. "I have a possible solution. There's a good chance we'll pass a ship heading the other way, back to port. We can transfer you across, and you'll make it back while we continue our journey."

  "Can you guarantee it?" Miro asked.

  "No. I'm afraid I cannot. I know these waters, and it's a good bet, but one can never be certain."

  "I'll leave you now to make your decision," Captain Meredith said. Bowing, he left Miro and Amber alone on the quarter deck.

  "I can't decide for you, Amber," Miro said.

  Amber looked at Miro, and then sighed. "It's out of our hands. If we can find a ship to take me home to Tomas, I'll get on it. Otherwise…" she trailed off, and a tear spilled out of one eye. "Otherwise, I'll be with you on this journey, for good or ill."

  6

  THE Delphin rose as she climbed a wave and then plunged as she fell into the trough behind. She hit the water with a mighty thud, sending a quiver through the ship and making her timbers creak alarmingly. Spray shot up from the bowsprit in a fountain, the galleon's foremost point plunging under the tops of the bigger waves. Occasionally a swell hit the ship from the side, and she rolled, dipping and twisting like an overweight dancer.

  On the decks, the shade from the sails provided blessed relief from the scorching sun, but the bare-chested sailors in the rigging had little opportunity for surcease. They worked continually, given rest only when the striking of the shi
p's bell indicated a change in watch.

  After two weeks an apologetic Captain Meredith told Amber her chances of finding a ship home were slim. The passage of another week told Miro and Amber they would certainly now be seeing the journey through together. Amber constantly worried she'd made the wrong decision, and nothing Miro said could help.

  As they travelled westwards the colour of the sea deepened until it was the shade of an evening sky when the first stars appear. The waves grew larger, and as they changed course First-mate Carver called out for a luffing sail to be trimmed. The rat-faced officer seemed to give most of the practical orders aboard ship, while the red-eyed Captain Meredith spent much of his time alone in his cabin.

  Toro Marossa's journal gave directions to the islands he called the Ochre Isles, but from overheard sailors' remarks Miro knew most of them thought it a fool's errand. At noon Captain Meredith would take a bearing from the sun to calculate how far north or south they were, while determining their final position using dead-reckoning given their speed and direction. He marked their position on a chart, but Miro heard a sailor comment there was little purpose in making a mark on an endless expanse of blue.

  Miro and Amber both avoided falling to sea-sickness, earning them the grudging respect of the men they dined with every night in the officer's mess. The meals were basic: boiled beef and potatoes, occasionally varied with pickled cabbage and bacon. Miro reminded himself the fare of the common sailors would be simpler still. He and Amber would be having the best the ship's cook served.

  At these dinner sessions Miro had met and come to know Second-mate Beck, Quartermaster Ulrich, and Helmsman Werner, all from the free cities. Conversation was forced, with little common ground between them. Captain Meredith often arrived late to dinner, smelling of spirits. Miro wasn't going to say anything to the captain on his own ship, but he hoped the man's drinking wouldn't affect his judgement.

  The tiny cabins and fold-out beds weren't made for two to sleep side-by-side, and Miro and Amber slept in separate cabins across the passageway, with the other officers' cabins on either side. However Miro and his wife often spent time together in his cabin or hers, talking late into the night, making plans for the future, plans that always included their son as if he was well and they were on a simple voyage from which they would return home soon.