The Path of the Storm (32 page)

"We need to go to Wengwai," Miro said. "Would you recommend crossing at Renton?"

The merchant harrumphed. "Recommend? No. It's not that you won't be able to cross, but the crossing is packed with too many people. It'll take you days to make it over the border. Try crossing from Sarina to Maelan. You'll need to take a boat, but you'll save time."

Miro thanked the merchant, watching as he took his family back towards Emirald.

~

S
ARINA
huddled against the river, a small town earning a living from the trade barges that usually plied the waterways. The typical Veldrin facades coloured the buildings in garish hues, while a broad avenue ran down to the water's edge.

Miro and Amber headed directly to the riverside. As they arrived, a barge tied up at the dock, unloading a cargo of Gokani refugees. The Gokani were shepherded to a border station where a team of officials processed them and handed them over to some of the Emir's men to be searched.

"Wait here," Miro said.

He found the owner of the barge talking to an official, waving and gesticulating.

"These fees are outrageous!" the bargeman said.

The official shrugged. "How much did you earn from each of your passengers? Tell me, did you charge the normal rate, or did you bump it up? You've given us more work than we can handle, so we need to pay more men to help out. That gilden has to come from somewhere."

Miro waited until the grumbling bargeman handed over several coins.

"Excuse me," Miro said. "Can you take us to Maelan?"

"Aren't you going in the wrong direction?"

"We have urgent business in Wengwai."

The bargeman peered at Miro with calculating eyes. "How urgent?"

"We aren't made of gilden," Miro said, "and I'll warrant your boat will be making the journey back empty in any case."

"Two silver crowns."

"One."

"One silver crown and six copper swords."

"One silver crown," Miro said.

He saw another barge approaching with a new load of refugees. "Perhaps I should try him?" He gestured.

The bargeman turned. "Oh, all right then. Fine. One silver crown. We leave right away, though."

"Perfect," Miro said.

He waved Amber forward.

~

T
HE RIVER
was placid and wide, and the empty barge made good time. By early afternoon Miro saw the smoke of chimneys in the distance, and then a cluster of buildings. Gokani architecture was more sombre than the vivid style of Veldria, favouring function over form, and the buildings were made of wood and stone rather than brick.

As Miro and Amber waited by the rail, the bargeman stomped over. "Now, where's that silver crown."

Miro handed over the coin.

Looking at the approaching dock, Amber pointed. "Who's that?"

A man stood with the refugees crowding the pier, yet a careful distance was maintained around him. He wore a black robe with a crimson lining, and the emblem of a triangle bound by a circle could be seen on his breast.

"That's a Guildsman," the bargeman said. "Surely you've heard of the Guild?"

"Of course," Miro said smoothly.

The bargeman left them to oversee the docking process.

"What should we do?" Amber asked. "Should we talk to him?"

"I don't know if we can," Miro said. "Look. See that group of soldiers in red uniforms? They're going to talk to us when we disembark. Meanwhile our friend the bargeman is going to load up his vessel. By the time we're finished with the officials, the barge will have left."

"Nothing's ever easy, is it?"

"Don't worry," said Miro. "Something tells me there'll be more of his kind around."

"Disembark!" the bargeman called.

Miro and Amber crossed the gangway, and as the only people crossing into Gokan, were quickly surrounded by soldiers.

The guards shepherded them to a desk. "What's your business in Gokan?" an official asked.

"I'm bringing gilden for a friend," Miro said.

The official's eyes lit up. "How much gilden?"

Miro hesitated. "A silver crown?"

"That should suffice," said the official. "Here." He handed Miro a small sack. "Place any forbidden items in here, and I'll see they are disposed of. Forbidden items include redberry, heartfire, and black powder."

Miro looked at the surrounding soldiers. He discreetly dropped a coin into the sack and handed it back to the official. "I have no forbidden items."

"Very good," the official said. He gestured to the soldiers. "They can pass."

Miro turned to look back at the barge, but the alchemist had boarded, and the barge was gone.

"Come on," Miro said to Amber. "Let's find lodgings."

They'd made it to Gokan.

~

M
IRO
pressed his back against the wall and counted for three slow breaths, before again looking down the alley.

The alchemist hadn't spotted him.

He'd been following the Guildsman for an eternity, looking for an opportunity to question him somewhere quiet. Miro had discerned no obvious pattern to the robed man's wandering. Was he heading home? Perhaps to his place of work? He knew so little about these people.

The black robed alchemist turned another corner and Miro crept along the wall, popping his head out before bringing it quickly in again.

This alley was as quiet as he would find in the small town of Maelan. The place was crammed full of refugees, and the alchemist had so far stayed on main streets. This was the time to take him.

Miro ran forward, but stopped in his tracks as the alchemist turned to face him. "Why are you following me?" the alchemist said, levelling Miro with dark eyes. "Is it gilden you're after?" He shrugged. "Never mind."

Miro sensed motion to his sides. He ducked as a slashing sword cut the air where his head had been, and turned to face his assailants.

There were two swordsmen, both wearing black uniforms with the same emblem on the breast — a triangle bound by a circle. One was stocky, while the other was as tall as Miro, with broad shoulders and long arms.

Miro stepped back to give himself space, cursing when he saw the alchemist had departed the area.

He watched his opponents' eyes and legs, gauging who would attack first. The stocky swordsman on the left shifted his feet, but Miro didn't accept the feint. The two men watched him warily, circling around him, a mark of experienced fighters.

Then the tall man came forward and thrust twice in quick succession, aiming to pin Miro against the wall. Realising the trap, Miro dropped to the ground and rolled, coming up between the two men. He faced the stocky man but reversed his thrust behind him, feeling the point of his sword strike home in the tall man's chest. The stocky fighter's sword was extended but he barged Miro with his shoulder, knocking Miro to the ground.

Miro's sword came up to block, and the clash of steel on steel reverberated through the alley. He heard shouts and cries; someone had heard the commotion. More soldiers would be on their way. He had to end it quickly.

Miro swung his sword three times in quick succession, attempting to wear his opponent down, but the man was strong, and held the blows back, his face grim. The stocky fighter raised his sword to strike, and Miro saw his opening. He ducked and thrust, the tip of his sword grazing his opponent's sternum and continuing upwards to open his throat.

The two men were dead, and the alchemist was no where to be seen.

Miro wiped the blood from his sword on one of the dead men's clothing, quickly sheathing the weapon.

Miro saw the horrified faces of watching townsfolk. More soldiers would soon be coming.

Miro raced back to the guesthouse where he'd left Amber; thankfully it was in Maelan's backstreets rather than near the crowded harbour. As he ran he removed his blood-splattered jerkin and threw it to the side of the street. Finally he turned a corner and saw the battered front door.

"Amber!" Miro called as he yanked open the door and raced up the stairs. "We need to go!"

Miro was certain the decrepit guesthouse where they'd found lodgings had been a halfway house before the recent flood of refugees gave it a more profitable purpose. Some of the long-term lodgers had a strange look about them, and Miro had felt uneasy leaving Amber on her own.

He came to the thin door to their room and tried the handle. It was locked.

"Amber, it's me," Miro said.

A key rattled in the lock and Amber pulled the door open, her expression fearful.

"What is it? I heard you calling."

"We need to go. I'll explain later."

"I just handed over two silver crowns!"

"It doesn't matter. Come on!"

It took little time to gather their few possessions and soon they were running through the streets of Maelan.

Miro cursed when he saw a group of soldiers in the black uniforms of the Alchemists' Guild. "Back the other way."

They tried another street, and then slipped between two buildings into an alley. Miro thought if he pointed them away from the river they'd find a road. Behind a farmhouse he saw pasture. "This way!"

It wasn't until they'd crossed the field and come across a narrow path that Miro slowed. As the day passed into darkness, they left Maelan behind.

"What happened?" Amber asked.

"I was asking for directions to Wengwai when I saw another alchemist. I followed him, but — scratch it — he must have realised and led me around by the nose. Two men attacked me in an alley." Miro turned grim. "I fought them and was forced to kill them."

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. But the alchemist got away, and the struggle raised a cry. I have no doubt they'll be looking for us in Maelan right now."

"Miro, we've just arrived in this country, Gokan, or whatever it's called. I just spent some of our last coins on lodgings. You went to ask for directions, and next thing you know you got yourself into another fight!"

"I was trying to find answers!" Miro protested.

"You need to think more," Amber said. "It'll take both of us, working together, to get this antidote and return home. We need to use our heads, as well as our hearts." Miro heard the fear in her voice. "You'll get yourself killed, one of these days."

"I understand," Miro said. Looking back, he still didn't know what he could have done differently, but he understood Amber was afraid, not just for herself but for him.

They walked in silence and soon a crescent moon shone down from the night sky. The narrow trail turned onto a road, and with no better plan they wordlessly followed it away from Maelan.

The road descended into a low valley with copses of thick trees to either side. Amber stopped. "What's that?"

"What?"

"Do you see it?" Amber pointed. "Light, there in the trees."

Miro saw the flicker of firelight. "I'm not sure if we should make our presence known," he said.

Amber rounded on her husband. "It's dark, I'm tired, and we need directions. You seemed happy to use that sword earlier in the day." She set off in the direction of the trees. "Follow my lead."

30

A
GROUP
of twelve men sat in a circle around the low embers of a cooking fire. A heavy metal pan rested on the coals, and the scent of mushrooms and toasting nuts wafted through the warm night air.

One of the men walked forward and squatted near the fire, stirring the pan with a wooden spoon. The sound of sizzling was accompanied by the melodic notes of a plucked instrument, and Miro saw one of the men held a large gourd between his knees, fitted with dozens of thin strings. He plucked at one string and then another in a haphazard fashion, creating a discordant yet not unpleasant tune, seemingly without structure, yet perhaps Miro simply didn't know how to find it.

All the men wore smocks of sky blue and had beards of varying lengths. One older man's beard reached nearly to his waist.

As Miro assessed the men, Amber stepped forward from the trees. "Greetings!"

Miro came forward to stand beside her, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword.

None of the men jumped, nor looked at the two newcomers with surprise. Three of the closest turned to regard the couple, while the man stirring the pan brought the spoon to his lips and blew on it, tasting the contents before making a sound of appreciation. The music continued without faltering.

The man with the long beard was one of those closest. "Welcome, strangers," he finally said, as if not used to speaking.

"We're travellers, far from home, and we were hoping to share your fire," Amber said. "We can pay…"

"Sit," the long-bearded man interrupted, indicating a space close to both him and the fire. "Make yourselves warm."

Miro met Amber's eyes and she shrugged imperceptibly. They both walked to where indicated and seated themselves. Miro sighed, pleased to be off his feet.

The twelve men looked at them curiously, but none of them spoke.

"Thank you for letting us join your fire," Miro said.

"Hmm," the long-bearded man said.

The strange melody danced in the air, and the man with the spoon again squatted near the fire and tasted the food, frowning and then sprinkling some seasoning from a pouch into the pan.

The long-bearded man suddenly spoke. "Don't mind my brothers. They've never spoken, and don't know how. I joined the Order late, so I still remember."

"You don't speak?" Amber said.

"Why would we need to?"

Amber looked at a loss for words. "To communicate…"

"There are many ways to communicate. Speech is imperfect, and my brothers and I prefer to speak with our souls. My soul is still impure, I must confess, for I still crave and enjoy speaking with ones such as yourselves."

Miro realised they'd come across members of a priesthood.

"You said you were travellers," the long-bearded man said. "Where is your destination?"

Miro opened his mouth, wondering what to say, when Amber spoke for him.