Renrik kept his head down but Sentar saw him take a tremulous breath. "Master, I will serve," the necromancer finally said.
"Stand," Sentar said. "I need to ask you some questions."
Renrik stood, but kept his eyes lowered. "Ask," he said.
"Your people, the Akari, will they serve me?"
Renrik was silent for a while before speaking. "I… I am afraid there are many who will not. The Dain, Barden Mensk, has poisoned our people against you, saying you ruled as a wolf rules the sheep. There are some, in my order, who still believe, but they don't dare speak out against the Dain."
Sentar was pensive for a moment. "Even my own people," he muttered. "Perhaps a new people…"
Renrik kept his head bowed while the Lord of the Night made his plans.
"How much essence can you gather?" Sentar asked.
"I cannot get to the stockpiles without the Dain's permission."
Sentar's mind worked. With essence he could destroy the Dain and many of the Dain's followers. But how many would he face? And what purpose would it serve? The amount of essence he needed…
Sentar spoke. "I need to build an army, and to conquer this Tingaran Empire so that the blood of the dead will enable my brothers to return to a defeated world. I thought your people might be the followers I need, but it seems I was wrong."
Sentar made a decision.
"I know where there are those who will be easy to dominate. We need weak humans, multitudes of them, ready to subdue. Necromancer Renrik, can you take me to a ship, an ocean-going vessel?"
"We have only a few, but yes. The Icebreaker is big enough…"
"I need you to gather those of your order who will follow," Sentar interrupted, "and get together as much essence as you can, enough to build the vats anew."
Sentar took the vial of essence and scrill from Renrik's hands. He began to draw on his skin, the movements deft and precise. As the Akari necromancer looked on in wonder, Sentar spoke an activation sequence, and moments later the symbols lit up; Sentar felt his skin tingle with suppressed power.
"Then show me to this ship," the Lord of the Night said. "Time is our enemy."
Sentar may not have found the beginnings of an army, but he now had allies, and he had essence.
The rest would be easy.
1
MIRO was terrified. His hands shook and his heart beat so loudly in his ears that he wondered that Amber couldn't hear it. His palms were sweaty even though the air was cool, and his lips seemed to dry no matter how many times he moistened them.
"You're not afraid of heights, are you?" Amber said with a grin. "You look anxious." She gazed out over the expanse below. "Lord of the Sky, I can see why you brought me here. It's beautiful."
Miro had never been to this place but Ella had given him directions. She'd told him words couldn't describe the valley's beauty, and as soon as Miro saw it he knew she was right.
The view was incredible. Below them a turbulent river twisted and turned its way through rocky chasms and glades of emerald trees. Its source was a majestic waterfall, sprouting from the cliff face and pouring out into the open air before disappearing in a cloud of spray. In the distance, three other waterfalls cascaded down the smooth shining rock, and the roar of the water combined with the sound of insects to form a soothing hum. Miro could see butterflies the size of a man's hand, fluttering around the lush trees like brilliant jewels.
As preoccupied as he was, Miro's thoughts were on anything but the rainbows dancing on the spray. His thoughts were on the carefully rehearsed words, and the great flurry of activity his actions would precipitate. Most of all, his thoughts were on the woman by his side.
"I can't believe how warm it is here," Amber said. "Back in Sarostar there's still ice on the Sarsen."
Miro silently thanked Ella again. He'd feared rain and icy cold, yet here in this valley they could feel the sun against their skin.
It had taken Miro and Amber most of the day to find a path down from the heights, and they were now on their descent into the valley. "Look," Amber said. "There, can you see it? There's a thin line, hanging down from the top of the cliff."
Miro searched for a moment. "A rope?"
"That's how Ella said she climbed down the cliff. I can't believe she did it. She must have nerves of steel."
Miro smiled. "Sounds like Ella."
"And to think, she never would have found this place if the Lexicon hadn't been stolen."
"Good things can always be found out of the bad," Miro said. "Should we keep going?"
"Lead the way."
The path they'd found was meandering but not treacherous, but still Miro was nearly bowled over when a small form swept past him, squealing with delight.
"Tomas!" Amber called. "Slow down!"
The child grinned back at them, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Papa!" he cried. "Race me!"
Running in chase, Miro felt a root grab hold of his foot, and before he knew it he'd landed face first on the dirt. Tomas paused in his game, the toddler stopping in astonishment.
"Are you all right?" Amber said, and then laughed when she saw Miro's expression. "You're never normally this clumsy." She started to help him up.
Crestfallen and evidently believing he was the cause of Miro's fall, Tomas came over and tugged on Miro's clothing. "Up!" he said.
"How can a two year old be so quick?" Miro muttered, dusting himself off.
"Two and a half," Amber said. "You don't have to tell me, though. I can hardly keep up with him anymore."
"Two and a half years. I can't believe it's been so long," Miro said. He looked down at the boy who was now his son, and was currently absorbed with pulling lichen from a tree.
"We've been busy."
"I know, but it doesn't mean we shouldn't find time for each other. I… I'm sorry Amber, if I haven't always been there for you."
"Miro," Amber sighed. "What are you talking about?"
"Every time I go to Halaran, or Tingara, when I return I feel like Tomas has grown so much, and I know I've missed it. Every time I sleep in a strange bed I wonder why you're not there beside me."
Amber smiled and squeezed his arm. "We've got today. Come on."
Amber led the way along the narrow path down to the valley floor, and following her Miro cursed his tongue. Why could he never find the right words? Amber and Tomas had made him happy, happier than he had ever thought he could be. Yet there were always more demands on his time.
In the years since the Primate's death the Empire had settled, but it was an uneasy peace. The world economy was in ruins, with the price of essence so high trade between the houses had completely dried up. Countless people were unemployed and underfed, from Altura to Aynar, and Miro was constantly fire-fighting, dashing from one explosive situation to the next. Tingaran soldiers now worked alongside Alturans, but there were many who spoke of the despotic rule of the Emperor with nostalgia. At least then there was food on the table, they said.
Miro's message was simple. He felt that he was repeating himself again and again, yet if he kept trying the words would get through. The situation they were all in was the inevitable result of the war. What had been done was in the past. The oppressed people of Aynar and Tingara deserved as much of a chance as the war-torn multitudes of Halaran and Petrya. The machines would be rebuilt, and when essence again flowed through the Empire, prosperity would return.
Amber said she understood Miro's pressures, but Miro wanted to give her more. As he watched her she laughed at something Tomas said, the sound girlish and free. But she was no longer a girl; Amber was a woman, and she'd been through more than any person should go through. Miro was constantly amazed at her resilience; even now when people met her they saw her beauty and warmth without realising the trials she'd been through, the strength she carried within.
"You really are somewhere else today, aren't you?" Amber said. She took his hand. "Are you coming?"
Miro realised they had made it down to the river. T
omas chased butterflies, his fluffy brown hair, only a little darker than Amber's auburn, catching leaves and twigs. "Sorry." Miro grinned shakily. "Let's head down to the water, shall we?"
"Sounds good to me," Amber said.
Amber kept hold of Miro's hand while they walked, but he could see her expression was a little puzzled. Miro's other hand felt down to the back pocket of his trousers, patting the little bulge there comfortingly.
The pair reached the water, where grassy banks led down to the plunging peaks and troughs of a turbulent river.
"Ella said she tried to swim across," Amber said. She shuddered. "She could have been killed."
Miro took a deep breath. There was a sudden roaring in his ears, his heart beating so hard he thought it would burst out of his chest. The feeling was completely foreign to him; this wasn't the fear of the battlefield, with instant decisions leading to life or death; this was something altogether different. He clutched at the ring in his pocket.
"Amber… I…"
"Tomas!" Amber screamed. She put her hands to her face in horror. "Get down from there!"
Miro turned, and saw a tall rock poking its head from a grove of trees. The rock leaned out over the water.
Tomas stood on the summit of the rock, waving a hand at them, completely unaware of the danger. If he took another step, and fell into the river, he would drown.
Even as he was moving, Miro cursed himself for becoming so distracted he'd jeopardised his son's safety. His muscles freed by action, he ran at the grove and ignored the cuts to his arms as he pushed through the trees, losing sight of Tomas as he thrust his way through the grove, desperately looking for the rock. He finally saw the grey of stone through the branches, and leapt forward. Miro stopped in his tracks.
A small woman with ruddy features sat just below the summit of the rock, the child in her arms. She wore the garb of a Dunfolk healer, with a soft mantle of precious fur on her shoulders. Tomas was giggling as she tickled him. Neither of them seemed troubled in the slightest by their precarious position.
"What are you doing here?" Miro demanded. "Did you follow us?"
"I came to watch," Layla said. "Have you asked her yet?"
"Layla," Miro said, shuffling and clambering up the rock to sit beside the Dunfolk healer as the water roared below. "This is a private moment between Amber and I…"
"Oh, I see." Layla pretended to ponder. "Should I have let him fall, then?"
"No, no, I'm sorry. Thank you. I'm just nervous."
"You've fallen over twice. I've been watching. You're clumsy today," Layla said.
"Thanks," Miro said wryly. "Can you at least stay out of sight?"
Layla snorted. "You couldn't find me if I was right in front of you. I will stay out of sight, but I'm going to keep an eye on your son. You're fortunate the Eternal brought me here."
Calmly and confidently, Layla took Tomas from the peak down to the base of the rock. As Layla looked up expectantly, Miro stood, wobbling as his feet sought purchase on the jagged surface, suddenly terribly aware of the drop.
As the reflexes that had seen Miro survive countless battles deserted him, Miro slipped, tripping backwards.
Miro's last sight was Layla regarding him with an expression of astonishment as he fell. He tumbled through the air, hitting the water on his back with a mighty splash.
The fall took the breath out of his lungs, and he coughed and gulped at the water as he went under. Miro's head popped above the surface and he grabbed a hasty breath before the plunging waves pulled him back down. He felt the water filling his boots and soaking his clothes, adding to the weight that threatened to drag him to the bottom.
The next time his head came up, he pulled at the water with his arms. Miro kicked out with his legs; fortunately he was close to shore, and his foot found purchase on a rock below the surface. He thrust with his foot while simultaneously paddling with his arms. The current almost took him, but both feet found purchase and then he felt a hand take his wrist as he was pulled out of the water.
Finally, Miro flopped onto the bank, thanking Amber with his eyes as she let go of him. Rolling and coughing, he finally spluttered river water onto the ground. He pulled himself up further onto the bank, heedless of the mud, and lay dazed.
"Miro! What happened? Are you all right?"
Amber held Tomas by the hand, Miro was pleased to see. Miro raised his head and shook it from side to side to clear it.
"I'm… fine…" Miro said.
A sudden stab of fear hit him, and his eyes went wide. Miro clutched at his trouser pocket, his hand grasping empty cloth. He began to search the muddy bank, his hands grasping at one handful of silt after another.
"Miro, what are you doing?"
When his hand clutched onto a smooth circle of metal, Miro thanked whatever deity was looking out for him that the ring had fallen out only at the end. He washed it off in the water; he might be covered in mud, but at least it would be clean.
"Lord of the Sky," Miro muttered, "nothing ever goes to plan."
As both Amber and Tomas looked on in astonishment, Miro stood shakily and faced them both. Covered in mud and with chest heaving, he turned to Amber, and sank to one knee.
Miro held out his hand. The ring was of bright yellow gold, with an emerald stone in the shape of a droplet, banded by tiny diamonds.
Amber's mouth dropped open. Miro's hand shook.
"Amber, I tried to make this day perfect, but I know I'm covered in mud, and I know Tomas almost fell into the river. I know I'm not perfect, but you've made me incredibly happy, and I want to give you more." Miro took a deep breath. "This ring was Lady Katherine's… I didn't know her, but she was my mother. It's not the ring she married Tessolar with — it's the ring she wore when she married my father, High Lord Serosa. I'm sorry. I know it's not about the ring. What I'm trying to say is… You and Tomas…"
Amber put her fingers to Miro's lips. "Shh," she said, her lips curved in a smile. "Yes."
Miro looked up. "Yes?" He grinned.
Amber laughed. "Of course, yes, you crazy man. I'll marry you. Mud and all."
Miro slid the ring onto Amber's finger, and then stood. Still grinning like a fool, he kissed her, long and slowly, before breaking away when he felt moisture on her cheeks. Drawing back he saw more tears spilling from Amber's eyes, but she was laughing and crying, all at the same time.
Miro squatted down and hugged Tomas while the boy squirmed. He stood again and held them both for a long moment, realising the day was perfect after all.
Miro looked past Amber's shoulder and between some branches he saw white teeth and sparkling eyes and there was Layla, for once smiling broadly.
Thinking about the mud on his clothes, Miro thought about Tomas on the rock, and realised how little the mud mattered.
Miro reminded himself to thank Layla.
He was glad she came.
2
IT WAS situated high in the mountains, in the very centre of the Empire. It was encircled by the Ring Forts, the five fortresses that had never been taken by force, only by treachery. Grand, yet small, the town of Mornhaven's unique geography was only exceeded by its place in history.
Long ago, the Western Rebellion had ended here, when Tessolar's betrayal of Serosa, the Alturan High Lord, ensured the surrender of Altura and Halaran to the Emperor. The crushing Treaty of Mornhaven the Emperor enforced on the two rebel houses resulted in peace — but only for a time.
Twenty years later, it was at Mornhaven that Miro, Serosa's son, confronted Tessolar, revealing Tessolar's treachery to the world. At Mornhaven Miro was made Lord Marshal, rallying the last free men to his cause.
Now, over two years after the death of Primate Melovar Aspen, Mornhaven had a new place in history. The town no longer flew the flag of Halaran, nor did the five Ring Forts: Manrith, Penton, Ramrar, Charing and Sark. High Lord Tiesto of Halaran had gifted this part of his domain not to one nation, but to the Empire as a whole. Soldiers of all nations travelled daily on
the winding mountain roads, and a strict rotation system ensured the different houses occupied the Ring Forts evenly.
It was here, at Mornhaven, that the strange man known as Evrin Evenstar was building the new machines.
The common soldiers didn't actually know where the work was being done, but those who had been at Mornhaven and the Ring Forts the longest tended to look nervously down at the ground. There were catacombs deep beneath the mountains, connecting the town with its protective circle of fortresses, and the rumours said the tunnels stretched for miles, with some caverns so huge they contained actual lakes. Only a few knew if the rumours were true: that a new harvesting plant, extraction system, and refinery were being built down there. But occasionally a rumble could be felt, and there wasn't a man who didn't believe lore was the cause. Many a brave soldier walked gingerly, half-expecting the earth to erupt beneath his feet.
Ella herself was uncomfortable, but in her case it was with the sensation of weighty rock resting above her head. She walked through a glowing archway, reading the runes she had inscribed herself, lore that would provide light and help to regulate the environment of the chamber beyond.
Ahead Ella was confronted by a bright device that sparked and blinked on and off intermittently. Ella put her satchel down at the foot of the archway and watched Evrin work.
Evrin was manipulating a pointed cylinder, but rather than touching it, he was singing to it softly, his eyes watching intently. The cylinder stood on an arm of blue metal, and a thin beam of light shone from the cylinder onto a great crystal that buzzed and hummed, and was seemingly suspended in the air. Light also shone from the jewel's glittering facets, and Ella knew it was supposed to focus onto a point underneath. Instead, the light was a wan shade of pink, diffuse and lacking power.
"Need the scratched energy tables," Evrin muttered.
Ella walked over to a workbench at the side of the chamber and searched through the books stacked haphazardly until she found what she was looking for. She walked over to where Evrin glared at the cylinder.
The Path of the Storm (The Evermen Saga, Book Three) Page 2