The Path of the Storm (19 page)

It was basic, with just the one wall and a roof, but it was something.

"Where will we put the kitchen?" Amber asked.

Miro turned to her and barked a laugh. Amber smiled and Miro put an arm around her.

They went back to the beach and searched the washed up clothing, salvaging a hemp sack and a sailor's woollen vest. Miro was hanging them on the branches of a tree to dry in the sun when he heard a cry.

His sword in his hand, he ran back down to the beach.

Amber stood in water to her knees, gingerly trying to take hold of a body that had come in with the tide. The sailor was floating on his stomach. Miro waded into the shallows and Amber stood back while he rolled the man over. The man's eyes stared wide, but he'd evidently drowned, escaping the sharks. Miro didn't recognise him.

"What should we do?" Amber said.

"Go back to the shelter," said Miro. "Leave it with me."

Miro dragged the body up onto the beach and then further, until he was up at the trees a fair distance from the shelter. He didn't relish this task, but while he wore a shirt and trousers, Amber still wore only a nightdress.

Miro stripped the man's shirt and leggings from him, hanging them on a tree nearby. He began to dig at the sandy ground, and kept digging until sweat dripped down his brow and his arms ached.

When he was done burying the body, Miro took the dead man's clothes back to the shelter, hanging them with the vest and sack.

Amber had been busy making a mat of thick fronds. She'd also rolled a log to the shelter, and was now sitting on it.

"You look exhausted," Amber said. "Sit down, here, have some dried figs."

Miro seated himself and then spoke while he ate. "Our needs are water, food, shelter, warmth and rescue. We now have clothing and if we tear that sack open we can improvise a blanket. Warmth shouldn't be a problem. It doesn't seem to be cold in these parts. Rescue, on the other hand, is out of the question. The only way we'll get off this island is if we do it ourselves. Which brings me to the next imperative — exploration."

"We should split up," Amber said.

Miro opened his mouth to object.

"You know we should. There's a whole island to explore, and we need to cover ground as quickly as possible. I can take the sword, while you take the axe."

"I'll tell you what," Miro said. "There's a tall hill that doesn't look too far away. I saw it from the beach. Let's climb there together. We can take a look around and make a plan where we'll explore."

The clothing was now dry, and Miro dressed himself in the dead sailor's clothing while he gave Amber his own trousers and shirt. She made a belt out of a piece of rope, grumbling at the over-sized garments.

"I've always fancied you in my clothing." Miro grinned.

Miro gave Amber the cutlass while he took the axe. He led Amber back to the beach, and they walked along it until they were level with the hill, before heading into the trees. It was tough going, and they were both scratched and panting by the time they ascended to the top of the rocky outcrop.

From their vantage they could now see much more of the island. The first thing Miro saw, looking out at the sea, were two other islands nearby, one close and one far, both surrounded by rings of reef and still blue lagoons.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw they were on the largest of the three islands, the one Toro Marossa had named Valetta. This island was still only a few miles long, but Toro Marossa's journal said he had found settlements here.

"Let's just pray they're no longer abandoned," Miro muttered. "We need to find these people even more now, not just for a cure, but for a way home."

His eyes following the shore, Miro finally saw structures surrounding a cove on the other side of the headland. A second settlement could be seen in the opposite direction, past the stretch of rock.

"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

M
IRO
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 growling 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.