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

by James Maxwell

  "Two settlements on this island," Miro said.

  "Look, there's a third," said Amber, pointing.

  On the closest island, Miro could see another set of buildings. The last island was too far away to tell.

  Against the green of the trees and the white of the sand, all of the islands bore strange spreading cascades of reddish rock, stretching down to the water's edge. The island closest to Valetta was dominated by a cratered mountain, with mist surrounding its summit so they couldn't see the peak.

  Miro heard a low rumbling, and the ground trembled.

  "What was that?" Amber said.

  "I don't know," said Miro. "A storm?"

  "The sky is clear."

  Miro shrugged. "Ready to split up? I'll head for the buildings past the headland, while you follow the beach to the right until you reach the settlement there."

  Amber nodded.

  Miro pointed at the mountain. "The sun should set over there, behind the mountain. When the sun hits the mountain, turn back, even if you haven't reached it yet."

  "Miro."

  "What?"

  "What if I can't see the mountain?"

  Miro smiled. "Just turn back well before dark."

  "What should we be looking for?"

  "We're looking for people, but also keep an eye out for small barrels with a symbol on them. Toro Marossa came here a long time ago, but that's where he found the poisonous powder. If we find them, we might also find an antidote. Be careful, Amber, and if you get into trouble, run."

  "I suddenly feel foolish for coming here."

  "We had to try. If we hadn't come, we would never have forgiven ourselves."

  "Do you really think we can find an antidote?"

  "I don't know."

  Miro squeezed Amber's hand. "The day's passing fast. We should move on."

  17

  MIRO decided to push through the trees rather than head back to the beach and walk around the headland. It was a decision he regretted almost immediately.

  Consumed with worry, yet fighting to be strong for Amber, he stepped over fallen logs and ducked under thick branches as he clambered down from the hill. He realised there was no way to tell if he was heading in the right direction. All he could see were trees and bushes. If the inhabitants of these islands had once tilled the soil here, the signs of their presence were long gone.

  The settlement hadn't looked far away from Miro's vantage on the hill, but the ground was steep and treacherous, the distance deceptive. The trees clawed at Miro's clothing and scratched at his legs. Occasionally he swung at the branches with his axe, but it was little use.

  Suddenly the ground levelled, and Miro burst onto an old trail.

  His heart sank when he saw it was weedy and overgrown, but he could see where once the footsteps of many men or animals had trodden a path into the earth. Miro guessed turning right would take him back to the beach where he and Amber had built their shelter. He turned left.

  Eventually he heard the gurgle of running water, a sound that grew louder as he forged his way ahead. He caught sight of a river and then stopped and stared.

  The building on the bank had once been a mill, with an elaborate system of cogs and pulleys designed to harness the river's power for grinding meal. The walls of the structure were made of ingeniously fitted bricks, each overlapping the other in a pattern Miro had never seen before. A tall tree had grown up inside the mill and was poking its head through a gaping hole in the roof, but it was a testament to the skill of its builders that the walls were still strong after what must have been many years.

  Who were these people? Where did they come from? Where did they go?

  Miro crossed the river at a sturdy bridge of stone, overgrown with weeds, yet still strong. His path took him around a bend, and as he ducked under some trees, he left the river behind.

  There was fresh water here, he reminded himself. At least they wouldn't die of thirst.

  The path became broader; it must have once been a road. Miro heard the sound of waves splashing against a shore a moment before he caught sight of the sea.

  Through the trees Miro saw was the remnants of a pier. No matter how sturdy it had once been, the action of the waves had taken its toll, and all that was left were thick timber piles and a few planks of wood. Further away, Miro saw several more piers, forming what was left of a large dock.

  The road took Miro to the shore, and then turned to run parallel to the sea. Miro's footsteps took him towards the crumbled buildings of what had once been a proud town.

  The silence was ghostly, the sense of abandonment complete.

  The structures varied in size and shape, but their walls were all made of perfectly fitted bricks in the same style as the mill. The roofs were peaked and tiled, although most had collapsed as their beams rotted and the weather knocked the tiles loose. On the side facing the street, the bricks had been painted with each building a different colour to the next. Even after so much time, the colours were vibrant and alive: turquoise, yellow, emerald and pink. The facades reminded Miro of multi-hued sweets.

  The people who had lived here weren't scratching a living. They'd had time to decorate their homes.

  Miro stopped outside the closest building.

  The door had rotted away, leaving a gaping hole, shadowed by the remnants of the ceiling. He stepped over some rubble and peered into the darkness.

  It had once been someone's house. Miro pictured a family here, the husband perhaps a builder, or a fisherman, the wife hanging pictures on the wall and tending the garden while children ran about.

  Miro left the house and continued down the street past several similar buildings. He saw a lumber mill, now wild as the forest, and a masonry yard, its purpose evident by the worked blocks of stone.

  Miro entered three more buildings, all houses, and then he came to a shop.

  He guessed it was a place where goods were bought and sold by the earthenware bottles lined up against the wall. The shelves had decayed and collapsed, but Miro could see the pins that had held them in place. Broken glass covered the ground.

  Miro held his breath. Perhaps here, he would find some sign of the poisonous powder, or its antidote.

  The bottles were all empty. Whatever the glass had held, he would never know.

  Miro left the building.

  He pondered as he explored. These people had obviously left in a planned manner, taking their important belongings with them. It also seemed obvious they didn't use lore. All of the houses had hearths, blackened by fire, where in Sarostar only the poorest people burned wood or coal for warmth. He'd seen lanterns in two of the houses, and leather harnesses he could only assume were for animals.

  Miro entered yet another building. It looked like it might have been an eating house; there were long tables with bench seats and Miro guessed the next room had been a kitchen, although that part of the building was rubble. He spotted some small barrels, but they were rotten and Miro guessed they'd once held wine.

  Miro turned to exit the building when he heard a sound.

  His muscles tensed as the sound sent chills along his back. There was no way it could have been natural. Something or someone had moved, dislodging some stones. Miro heard heavy breathing.

  Miro held his axe, ready for whatever came. He walked towards the rubble, his eyes straining to see.

  A pair of red eyes regarded him, and he heard a growl. The growl turned to a snarl, and a dog came rushing at him, snarling and snapping its jaw, trying to get at Miro's legs.

  Miro leapt back. The dog jumped in fright and scurried back to the rubble, once more hiding from the intruder.

  Miro felt sorry for it. It was skinny and wild, probably subsisting on birds or forest creatures. There must be more of them, left here either by the inhabitants or Toro Marossa's exploration party.

  Thinking of Toro Marossa made Miro remember what he was here for. Toro had found the poisonous powder in an ancient ship.

  Miro left the dog to its growli
ng and headed for the dock.

  When he reached it, he felt a surge of disappointment. There weren't any ships here, and the dock itself was ruined. He couldn't see any signs that Toro Marossa had come this way, signs that would have been comforting and told Miro he was at least following in another's footsteps.

  From the shore Miro could see the next island and the misty mountain that crowned it. The sun was falling towards the mountain. He didn't have much time.

  Miro shaded his eyes. Further along the beach… there was something there. The remains of scaffolding? He decided it would be the last thing he investigated.

  Miro picked up his pace as he approached. The scaffolding rose from a wide hole in the ground, big enough to house ten ships the size of the Delphin.

  Miro felt a surge of triumph as he arrived.

  It was a dry dock, and the ship being repaired was still in it.

  Immediately Miro saw signs of Toro Marossa having been this way. The ship was decayed, but there was a makeshift ladder someone had built to allow them to descend into the hole. A second ladder rose from the sunken floor to the side of the ship, obviously constructed by the same group. The ladders were hastily built with tall trees and twine. Miro knew the islands' inhabitants hadn't made them.

  As Miro reached the side of the pit, he gazed at the ship in awe.

  He'd never seen anything so big. It made the Delphin look puny in comparison. Even the Infinity was small compared to this ship.

  She was held in place by huge ribs of wood and had three great masts, but the foremost had fallen down at some point, crashing through the deck and smashing the ship's front. There was a row of wooden shutters along the sides; they looked like they could open, but Miro had no idea why.

  He looked down at the ladder descending into the pit. Miro squatted and shook it; the ladder seemed sturdy.

  Miro descended the ladder, praying the rungs wouldn't break. It took an eternity before he was on the ground, and then he had an even longer ascent ahead of him. Finally, Miro stood on the deck. For some reason, the ship had survived the ravages of time where many of the buildings hadn't. Perhaps she was built of a harder wood. Miro supposed a ship must be stronger even than a house.

  Searching the huge vessel would take time, so Miro decided to search level by level until he reached the hold. Planks creaked beneath his feet as he heaved open a hatch and descended.

  Discovering this level empty, Miro found steps leading down and searched the next level. Also empty.

  The next deck below was cramped. Miro saw strange tubes of bronze, now rusted, each leading to one of the wooden shutters visible from the outside. Once, rollers enabled the bronze tubes to be pointed out the side of the ship. It was yet another mystery.

  Avoiding the rotten sections of the planks, Miro finally found the hold. Given the cavernous storage area Miro wondered how large the ship's crew had once been. Now, it was apparently as empty as the rest of the ship.

  Miro walked almost the entire length of the ship before he saw them: a score of small barrels, kegs really, each marked with the symbol of a flame.

  Miro's breath caught. Long ago, Toro Marossa once stood in this very place.

  Some of the kegs had a second symbol beside that of the flame. It was a skull, an additional warning to stay clear. Next to an open keg black powder sat in a small pile.

  Miro stayed clear of the barrels, but knew he'd found the poison. He searched the hold again before he gave up. It was always a long shot.

  Just because he'd found the poison didn't mean there was a cure nearby. It was the people who'd once lived here he wanted to find.

  With a sigh, Miro decided to return to the shelter.

  ~

  IT WAS hours past sundown and Miro was worried. He didn't have the means to build a fire but the light cast by a crescent moon outlined the white beach. He watched the beach relentlessly, desperate for a sign of Amber. If she walked on the beach, he would see her.

  Should he leave the shelter and head towards the second settlement? What if he missed her?

  Miro's fists clenched and unclenched. He should never have let Amber go out on her own. Who knew what she'd found? He'd almost put his foot through the rotten planks of the ship more than once. What if she was stuck somewhere? Perhaps a roof had collapsed on her, or she'd been attacked by a dog. She could have come across some of the island's inhabitants, perhaps someone violent.

  As Miro's thoughts turned darker and darker, he finally saw a figure in the distance. Miro leapt up and he began to run.

  She made slow progress, dragging something behind her, something large and square, obviously heavy.

  "Amber!" Miro cried.

  "Here, help me with this," she gasped.

  "What is it?"

  "Tell you later."

  The light was low, and Miro only saw it was a piece of wood the size of a large door. She must have laboured for hours to bring it.

  "Here," Miro said, "let me take one end. You take the other."

  Between the two of them, they managed to get it off the ground and stumble with it back to the shelter. Finally they dropped it to the ground with a thud, and both sank to the ground, puffing and wheezing.

  "What… is it?" Miro panted.

  "Can't see now." Amber coughed. "Show you in the morning. I'm exhausted."

  After drinking greedily from the water barrel and then eating the handful of oats and dried fruit Miro gave her, Amber fell down and was instantly asleep. Miro burned with curiosity as he lay down beside her, yet he knew he needed to let her rest.

  The fronds that made their bed felt like soft linen and the rough canvas sack made a warm blanket. As Miro thought again about the strange things he'd seen, it started to rain, the heavy drops of water splattering against the canvas roof with a steady patter.

  They'd survived their first day on the island. They were warm, and they were dry.

  Miro fell asleep.

  ~

  "LORD of the Sky," Miro breathed, as he looked at what Amber had brought, now revealed by the bright light of morning.

  "I thought you'd want to see right away."

  "So you brought it with you?"

  Amber shrugged. "Time is marching on."

  It was a map.

  "I thought it was a removable panel, but then I found the drawing was part of the wall, engraved into the wood itself. The wood was weak, so I decided to bring the wall. The part with the map, that is."

  "That's obviously where we are now." Miro pointed to the three islands. "Wherever Altura is, it's not on here."

  "But now we know where these people came from," Amber said, "and most likely, where they are now."

  Near the islands, further to the west, lines marked out a coastline, stretching along the height of the wall.

  Amber had discovered a land mass on the other side of the Great Western Ocean. It wasn't just big, it was immense.

  The map showed them a great continent to rival their own.

  18

  THE NEXT day Miro left Amber to rest while he searched the town and the huge ship again. He finally returned at the end of the day, convinced there was nothing new for them there.

  Amber's search had uncovered little besides the map. That night, Miro and Amber compared what they'd seen, deciding that the town he'd found was the larger of the two, while Amber had probably explored a small fishing settlement. Yet the discovery she'd made was incredible.

  "This new land is closer by far than Altura. Our best bet is to try to make it there. Amber, we still have a chance of finding these people, and finding a way home. Our main problem is we'd never survive the open sea in the longboat," Miro said. "So if there aren't any workable ships on this island, our only option is to try the next."

  "What about the ship you found?"

  "Too damaged," Miro said. "The bow was smashed up when the foremast collapsed, also the two of us would never be able to work a ship that big."

  "How will we get out of here, then?" Amber asked
.

  "Well, we know these people knew about this poison, and we have a good idea where they are now. When they departed it was planned and intentional; they left nothing behind. We don't know why they left, but most important of all, stuck on this island we're not doing Tomas any good. We need to find a ship."

  "What makes you think a ship will still be in any condition to travel?"

  "The dry dock kept that huge ship in pretty good condition. A sailboat that's smaller, yet big enough to sail on open water, might be out there." Miro smiled without humour. "Unless you have a better idea?"

  "How far do you make it to the next island?" Amber asked.

  "Far enough that I think we should take everything with us," said Miro. "We can always build another shelter, but if something goes wrong and we can't come back, at least we'll have our provisions."

  "When do we leave?"

  Miro looked out at the lagoon. "We'll get the longboat ready at first light. Tomorrow we can row it around the headland and bring it to the closest part of this island to the next. We can then beach it and get another night's rest, before trying to make the crossing first thing the following morning."

  That night, Miro and Amber slept for the last time in their shelter. They dismantled it at dawn, folding the square of canvas and pulling the six oars out of the ground.

  After yet another breakfast of oats and dried fruit, they left the longboat unloaded and spent the next hour pushing it down to the water's edge, turning it around so it faced the water. Amber then sat in the boat while Miro handed her barrels to stow, followed by the oars and the square of canvas.

  Miro had considered making the canvas into a sail, but with no keel they wouldn't be able to sail across the wind. He held the option in reserve, although he hoped that with both of them rowing, they wouldn't need to use it.

  Amber jumped out of the boat and they both pushed at it until waves lapped against the wood, finally lifting up the bow as the water came underneath.

  "Jump in," Miro said.

  Amber climbed over the side and immediately fitted a pair of oars to the rowlocks. With the water nearly at Miro's waist, he gave one last heave and clambered aboard. They were away.