The Path of the Storm (28 page)

"How is that possible?" the Emir asked. "What about the Shah's Companions? The Shah's twelve divisions of swordsmen? His two thousand musketmen? His longbowmen?"

"Destroyed in a great battle outside the walls of Monapea."

"I do not believe it," Volkan said, shaking his head decisively. "We would have had reports the barbarians were massing. A month ago Rolan of Oltara and Starin of Muttara were at each other's throats! Where does this news come from?"

"The news comes from our people in Wengwai. Refugees fleeing Narea's south have crossed into Gokan, all telling stories of horror. The news has been separately corroborated by two of my personal agents in Wengwai. Even so it is difficult to separate the truth from the fiction. Apparently neither Rolan of Oltara nor Starin of Muttara leads this army. The rumours say a new leader rose in Muttara and took over from Starin. This leader then conquered Oltara and formed the horde into a single nation."

A newcomer entered the library, addressing the man with the golden epaulettes. "Another message, General Hauser. It's from the Elector of Gokan. It's dated two days ago. After the fall of Monapea, he fears for Wengwai. Gokan requests our assistance."

General Hauser turned to the Emir. "Emir Volkan, if Gokan falls, our ships will have little value when it comes to fighting the horde."

"Gokan won't fall," the Emir said. "The barbarians won't be able to handle supply lines stretched so far south. Remember, Monapea is far from here."

"Should we send men to Gokan?"

Emir Volkan was pensive for a moment, before speaking decisively. "For now, let us send as many men as we can to our border with Gokan. They can easily advance north if need be. Send out messages to the levies and call up the reserves. Recall our ships, and send some warships north to deal with any naval encroachment."

"Emir?" Miro said.

"What?" Volkan said with irritation.

"There may be more going on here than you realise."

Miro saw the thoughts cross the Emir's face. Miro knew he didn't want the lands to the east discussed in front of his men.

"You have your orders, see to it," Volkan dismissed his men.

The guards remained, keeping a discreet distance, and Miro reminded himself that his and Amber's fates hung on his next words.

"If you're wasting my time…" the Emir said.

"Emir, there is an ancient enemy we believe may be behind the attacks on my nation. I came here because the signs pointed to these lands, and now a mysterious new leader has risen in your north. Do you really think it is coincidence?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"Let my wife and I go north, to this land Gokan and its city Wengwai, and further north if need be. I will learn whether my fears are warranted, and I'll find the truth behind this leader. I give you my word that I will bring this truth back to you, or die trying."

Miro meant every word. He only hoped the Emir would believe his sincerity.

"You would give me your word? And what do you want in return?"

"You know what I want. A ship and a crew to take my wife and I back home."

Miro held his breath. The Emir took a long time replying.

Volkan eventually spoke. "Granted." He called one of the guards forward. "Give him what he needs for his journey. Escort them both out of Emirald."

"At once, Emir."

~

A
S HE
returned the book Miro had been leafing through to the shelf, Emir Volkan was lost in thought.

How could Narea have fallen so quickly? Surely there wasn't any truth to this story of an ancient enemy?

The Emir knew how to read men, and he knew Miro truly believed he could find answers in the north. He could also see that the man from across the sea would return to Emirald. Not only had Miro given his word, he needed a ship, something only Volkan could provide.

Yet Emir Volkan never planned to give Miro the ship he wanted.

Miro Torresante of Altura had foolishly given his word.

But he had never asked Volkan for his.

25

"
S
O
K
ILLIAN
is Xenovere's heir," Rogan said, shaking his head. "I can hardly believe it."

"You've seen the proof," Ella said. "There's no doubt."

"How will the people react, I wonder?" There had been another riot, once again incited by Bastian.

"There's something I need you to do," Ella said.

"Another thing, you mean," Rogan said wryly.

Ella looked at Rogan intently. "I need you to send someone to the Isle of Ana. We need to find out what happened to Lady Alise. She may be dead, but Killian's mother could also be alive, perhaps knowing nothing about the changes in the Empire."

"I'll see to it," Rogan said. He looked out his window at Seranthia. "I think this news lends further urgency to what you're doing. It's even more imperative that we bring him back. Ella, you now have my full support. Do you still think you can get Killian back?"

"I can try."

Even if she could enter the portal and cross through to the other side, Ella wondered how Killian would take the news. He was the nephew of a man he despised. He was the heir to a broken empire.

"Rogan…"

"I recognise that tone," Rogan said. "What is it?"

"There is one last thing I need your help with…"

"Come on," Rogan growled, "out with it."

"You won't like it."

Ella told him.

~

E
LLA
entered the deserted Westcliff cemetery with two of Rogan's men. This late at night there would be no one present to watch a corpse be exhumed — a corpse that had been in the ground for over two decades.

She wore her green enchantress's dress, the hood pulled over her head, and over her shoulder she carried her satchel, the tools of her trade within. Rogan's two men were strong soldiers, and each carried a spade leaning against his shoulder in addition to the short swords at their waists. Yet as they approached the cemetery Ella could almost feel the fear washing from them as they gave her sidelong looks.

"What exactly are we looking for, Enchantress?" one of Rogan's men asked Ella.

"We're looking for the grave of Lord Aidan Alderon."

"How will we read the markers?" the other man whispered.

"Here," Ella said, reaching into her satchel and handing two items to the men. "They're pathfinders." She took a third pathfinder out for herself.

"
Tish-shasah
," Ella said, activating her pathfinder. A beam of light shone from the runes, and instantly the grave markers at Ella's feet were revealed in the glow. Soon all three of them searched the graveyard.

Tingara had seen many lords and ladies pass from life, and it was some time before one of the men called out.

"Hush," Ella said, approaching. "We need to stay quiet."

"Enchantress," the soldier whispered. "Look."

He shone his pathfinder down at the tombstone. It was simpler than the others, as if whoever had laid this stone had done so out of decorum rather than love. Even the words were cursory.

"Lord Aidan Alderon," Ella read. "Born 484 Y.E. Died 522 Y.E." She looked at the soldier as her second helper approached. "It doesn't say anything more."

Ella felt nothing but sadness. She'd finally found Killian's family, something he'd wanted his whole life, yet it was a story of tragedy. The grave was simple and said nothing of the man Lord Aidan was, but he was obviously a man of principle, who had stood up to an Emperor.

Ella wondered again about Lady Alise, Killian's mother, exiled to the Isle of Ana. Had she once looked down at this grave, crying tears of grief? Was she out there somewhere, still alive, wondering what had happened to the red-haired child that was taken from her?

"What do we do now?" the soldier who had found the marker said.

"I'm sorry," Ella said, "but we have to do this. We need to dig up the coffin and put it on the cart we came in."

Exchanging glances, the men set to work.

~

T
HE COFFIN
was heavy, and buried deep. It was hours before it sat on the bed of the drudge-pulled cart they'd arrived in, and by then Ella's hands were covered in dirt, her fingernails broken and torn.

Ella climbed up to the platform, sitting in the driver's seat and looking out from the height of the cart. The sky was lightening and the darkness of night shifted hue through violet and amber. The sun would rise soon, and Ella needed to be on her way.

"Do you need us to open the lid?" one of Ella's helpers said.

"No, thank you," Ella said.

"What are we doing next?"

"Well," said Ella, "it's up to you. I don't require your assistance any more, but if you'd like to hitch a ride for a time…"

She tried not to smile when the two soldiers looked at each other and mutely came to an agreement.

"No, that's all right…"

"We'll be fine walking."

"Thank you, men, for your help," Ella said. "I appreciate it, as does the Lord Regent."

"Good luck with… with…"

Ella finally allowed herself to smile, and with a spoken word, she activated the drudge and was on her way.

She had been given instruction on how to control a drudge by none other than Evrin, long ago when he'd been posing as a Halrana merchant. The words came easily to her, and the rocking motion of the cart on the cobbled stones was soothing as Ella gazed at the waking city around her.

The new essence machines might be being built at Mornhaven, but Seranthia would always be the beating heart of the Empire. The population of Tingara dwarfed that of the other houses; if there were ever a vote on who would be Emperor, a Tingaran would certainly be the one named.

Ella watched as vendors set up market stalls, in a routine they'd probably followed their entire lives. They ignored her cart and the stone box on its bed, still covered in dirt.

Ella passed an alley where dogs roamed the streets, looking for scraps. She then turned a corner and there was a magnificent temple, devoted to the Evermen. Such contrast in Seranthia, such energy… if only it could be channelled in the right direction, under a wise leader.

But Tingara's long-held dominance had led to complacency, and then despotism. As the Emperors became more and more capricious, so the land fell into darkness. There hadn't always been streetclans in Seranthia, and the poor hadn't always existed in such multitudes. Once, the Empire was controlled by no single house, it simply had its administration in Tingara. Seranthia had been ruled justly — laws such as the ridiculous practice of rounding up vagrants and casting them over the walls were a recent invention.

Rogan's relaxation of such laws had led to an outpouring of energy, as those who could never complain before did so with gusto.

The people needed a ruler like Rogan, who would treat them with decency, but they also needed one of their own, who understood how the Assembly of Templars and the Tingaran leadership fit together.

Ella wondered. Could Killian be such a leader?

She turned the drudge again, and in the distance Seranthia's great harbour opened up below. Ella could see the Sentinel in the distance, the statue on its island silhouetted by the breaking dawn, its arm raised to the sky imploringly. Fishing boats were returning to the docks, their holds filled with the morning's catch. Imperial warships sailed out on patrol.

Ella guided the drudge down a long street, heading directly for the harbour.

She remembered the first time she met Killian. He'd been posing as a merchant's agent, seeking goods in foreign lands. How naïve she'd been! Charming and confident, he'd shown Ella what it meant to be young, at a time when she'd been forced to grow up ahead of others her age. Brandon, Ella's guardian, had died, and Miro was far away in Seranthia. Ella struggled with her studies and the mistakes she'd made. No one had known war was just around the corner.

Ella had fallen in love with Killian, but it was the immature love of a girl. Only later, when she'd seen his true nature, had the feelings of something deeper sparked within her.

Then came Ilathor, the dark prince of the Hazara Desert, and the conquest of Petrya. They'd all seen so much death in those days, and Ella had found herself unable to resist the comfort of Ilathor's arms.

Killian's last words to Ella were to tell her he loved her, before he made a crossing from which he knew he could never return.

If there was one thing Ella had learned, it was that there was always a way.

The Sentinel beckoned. Killian needed her.

Ella was going to get him back.

26

A
MAN
in black waited for Ella at the dock, now lit by sunrise, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him.

The man walked towards Ella as she called the drudge to a halt close to the water's edge, looking up at Ella with his dark eyes.

"Jehral," Ella said warmly.

She dismounted from the cart and gave the desert warrior a swift embrace. "Thank you. I was worried you wouldn't come. Did you bring it?"

"Yes, Ella, I brought it." Jehral held up a bundle, wrapped in oilskin.

Two more people came into view, a dark-haired woman in a red robe, and a bladesinger with curly locks and groomed moustaches. Both also held bundles.

"You have no idea how difficult this was," Shani said. "If it had been anyone but you…"

"I hope you know what you're doing," said Bartolo, running his fingers through his hair.

"Rogan knows," Ella said. "He believes in what I'm doing."

"Does he know about these?" Shani said, holding up her bundle.

"Well…"

"Same old Ella." Bartolo grinned.

"What's in the cart?" Shani asked.

"I'll tell you in a moment. Have they been renewed?"

"Yes," said Jehral, "they've all been renewed."

"Can I have them?" Ella stepped

"Ella…" said Shani. "We've all been given the same instructions. We're not to let them out of our sight. You're going to have to tell us why you need them."