The Path of the Storm (13 page)

He pulled the door tightly closed again so it would survive a cursory check. He didn't want to strike during the evening meal; they would wait until the middle of the night.

Miro took the gag from Amber's mouth and kissed her gently on the side of the mouth, avoiding her puffed lips and the big ugly bruise above her jaw line, discernible even in the low light.

"Look in the gruel," Amber said.

Miro went over to the two bowls and brought them to where Amber still huddled against the wall. He handed one to Amber and dipped his finger in the other. A feeling of disappointment sank into his stomach when he felt nothing but gruel.

Then Amber held up a sharp knife, little more than a paring knife, but a weapon nonetheless.

"Now we wait," Miro whispered. "We should eat, we'll need our strength."

They ate the gruel, scooping it up with their hands, and then they waited. If Carver or one of his men decided to check on them, or Carver decided it was time to rid himself of his two burdensome prisoners for good, they were done for.

The waiting was the hardest part. Miro's arms and legs were tensed, yet he still sat in the same position against the wall. He tried making conversation with Amber, but besides the terrible risk of their plan, and the fact they might not survive the night, there was little for them to talk about.

Miro heard the closing bells of the last dog watch, and then one bell to mark the shift change to the first watch. He closed his eyes, but didn't want to sleep. He heard six bells strike, which made it an hour before midnight. Finally, Miro heard one bell strike.

"We'll wait a few more minutes," Miro whispered to Amber. "Then we'll go."

In the now-complete darkness, Miro could sense Amber tense beside him. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed his in return.

"All right," Miro said. "Now."

He decided to push the cell door in one motion, rather than drag the sound out. Taking a deep breath, he thrust the metal door open quickly. At the same time, Miro coughed as loudly as he could, hoping to disguise the sound.

He winced at the screeching, howling sound of rusted metal moving against metal. There was no use in waiting to see if anyone would come to investigate. Miro stepped out of the cell, leading Amber by the hand behind him.

He fortunately remembered the way to the main deck; without Carver's demonstration on the deck it would have taken them an age to find their way to the open. It was dark in the passageways, but behind these doors were scores of sailors, swinging in their hammocks and snoring.

Luck was with them, and they reached the companionway that led to the main deck without encountering anyone on the way. Miro climbed the ladder-like steps and was about to push the hatch open when he felt Amber squeeze his hand sharply.

Miro heard footsteps, at the edge of hearing but growing louder, the stump of a bare-footed man as he walked on the deck overhead. The thumps grew in volume until they were directly overhead. Would someone open the hatch and try to descend the steps? But the footsteps continued, past them, and over time drew away until they could no longer be heard.

Without thinking too hard about what he was doing, Miro pushed open the hatch. He peered out, the deck well lit by the starry sky overhead. The cool sea breeze sent a wave of pleasure through him after the cramped brig, but Miro still waited until he could see the deck was clear before he climbed out, pulling Amber up after him.

"Who's that?" a voice challenged. A sailor sleeping under some canvas in a corner sleepily sat up.

"Klaus," Miro said, walking over to the sailor and squatting down.

"You're not Klau…"

Miro's knife silenced the man as he stabbed firmly into the sailor's chest, bringing the tip of the knife up to find the heart.

He turned back to Amber. Their next step was to head up to the quarter-deck and find the officer's quarters. Carver would be in the captain's cabin, by far the most comfortable quarters on the ship.

Miro's agreement with Werner said he would kill Carver and the officers supporting him: Ulrich the quartermaster and Beck the second mate.

Miro saw the longboat, recently used and raised up on the side of the ship, ready to be lowered when next needed.

Rather than risk his and Amber's lives further, Miro decided to change the plan.

He led Amber to the longboat. "Here," Miro said, "help me put some of these barrels into the longboat."

"What are you doing?" she whispered. "Someone will see us."

"Hurry," Miro said, grunting as he lifted a barrel.

"What's in them?"

"Stores," Miro said. "Water, perhaps even food."

He heaved a second barrel into the longboat, wincing at the sound of wood striking wood. Amber managed to lift a barrel up with Miro helping the rest of the way. They threw two more barrels in before the commotion sparked shouts behind them.

"Get in the longboat while I lower it," Miro said.

Without hesitation Amber clambered over the gunwale. Miro heard more shouts and then turned as he heard a hatch crash open. A sailor ran towards him and Miro smashed a fist into the man's jaw. The sailor fell down.

The ship's bell began to ring, sounding again and again as the alarm was raised. Shuttered lanterns were opened and light spilled out onto the deck.

Miro's breath caught. The broken-nosed sailor Ros stood revealed in the light, filled with menace and holding a sharp cutlass in his hand.

Miro charged him, and they both went down in a pile of limbs. As they rolled over and over, each trying to get a stranglehold on the other, Miro caught Amber watching from inside the longboat, her eyes wide with fear.

Ros's body twisted as Miro's arm shifted, and suddenly Ros was on top of him. The huge sailor wrapped his hands around Miro's neck, pushing his two thumbs into Miro's windpipe.

Miro's right hand held his opponent's wrists back, but only enough to prevent his windpipe from being crushed. Miro's vision went dark as his lungs were starved of air. He once more shifted his left arm.

The broken-nosed sailor's eyes went wide as the knife in Miro's left hand found the man's side. Miro stabbed in a second time, the knife was short but he'd found his enemy's kidney. The pressure on Miro's throat relaxed as Ros gasped, looking for the source of the terrible pain. Miro again thrust the knife in between the sailor's ribs, where the thick muscles of his chest wouldn't stop the small blade from entering.

Ros quivered, and then his eyes closed. He became still.

Miro rolled the body off him, coughing and looking around. Only moments had passed, and for now the deck was clear.

Miro picked up Ros's cutlass and ran over to the longboat.

"Hold on," he croaked. "Don't let go."

He unwound the line that held the boat up by the back, keeping a grip on it through the cleat. It dropped through four feet suddenly, making Amber shriek. Miro tied the line back up again and then ran to the line hooked to the front of the longboat. As he loosened the line, the longboat's front was also lowered, until it was only two feet above the water. Miro held the line in his hands, his muscles bulging with the effort, as he ran again to the line at the back and unwound it completely. Miro let go of everything, and the longboat hit the water with a splash.

"Look out!" Miro cried as he tossed the cutlass down into the longboat below. There was a strong current but Amber was already managing the oars; she had grown up on the banks of the Sarsen, and rowing was part of life in Sarostar.

Miro looked around for one last item. Finally spotting it, he ran over to the mainmast and took a heavy axe from a loop of cord around the mast, placed there for emergencies.

As sailors poured onto the deck, Miro raced over to the ship's rail and leapt over the side, axe in hand, nearly missing the longboat in his haste. He tumbled into the bottom.

"What next?" Amber said.

"Row," panted Miro as he gathered his limbs. He gestured to the prow of the ship, where the bowsprit jutted out from her front. "To the front of the ship." Miro pointed. "There."

Amber pulled at the oars as the longboat travelled along the side of the galleon. Up on the decks, confusion reigned.

"Keep going," Miro said. "There, stop." He grabbed hold of the anchor rope, the hawser stretched taut by the strong current.

Miro looked up, and in the light of the clear night sky he saw Carver striding forwards, a cutlass in his hand. The rat-faced mutineer snarled when he caught sight of them and came rushing to the front of the ship.

Miro grinned without humour and raised his axe. Carver's mouth dropped open and his face showed real fear.

With all of his strength, Miro swung the axe at the hawser. Threads of hemp popped and snapped. Lifting the axe over his head, he swung again.

After the third blow, the rope holding the ship in place parted with a mighty snap.

The current was strong, and flowing in the direction of the jagged barrier reef that bordered the lagoon. The ship was doomed.

As Carver bellowed and the crew of the
Delphin
realised what was happening, the screams of terrified men pierced the still night air.

Amber began to row away from the ship, and a sailor leaped over the rail, trying to reach them and the safety of the longboat. This sailor could swim, and he grabbed hold of the gunwale, his face showing his desperation.

Miro recognised him. It was Klaus, the diver who had swum after Amber with a rope, when Ros tossed her overboard.

Finally releasing the rage he'd held in check for so long, Miro smashed the axe into Klaus's face. The man screamed with pain and sank into the water.

The galleon picked up pace and the shouts and cries of her crew became even more desperate as it became clear the
Delphin
was going to run straight onto the reef. Some more sailors jumped off the sides, and Miro saw triangular fins pierce the water. The sharks would feast tonight.

Tearing his eyes from the
Delphin's
impending doom, Miro also took a pair of oars, aware of the risk of joining the galleon on the reef. With two rowers on the benches, the longboat managed to fight the pull of the current and draw away.

When a safe distance between the longboat and the reef had grown, Miro and Amber waited and watched.

The
Delphin
had picked up even more speed, and taken unawares, there was little the crew could do to save themselves.

The once-proud galleon stopped all of a sudden as she hit the reef with a sickening crunch. Her momentum was so great the
Delphin
immediately began to break up. In the light of a sky full of stars Miro saw scores of sailors struggling in the water, men who had jumped at the last instant, and the water frothed as the struggles of the sailors brought more sharks in to feed.

Miro stood up to watch one last man actually make some distance, swimming in their direction. He caught sight of them and waved his arm. The swimmer called out in a voice that carried across the water.

It was Carver.

When he saw the longboat wasn't coming for him he shouted and bellowed. Carver thrashed in the water and looked desperately at the distant shore.

Carver screamed as something took hold of his legs. The scream became a gurgle as a shark took him, pulling him down under the water.

Miro sat back down.

"What about the plan with the helmsman?" Amber asked.

"He was a mutineer," Miro said, "and you were almost killed. I don't respect people who can't choose sides."

He began to once more pull at the oars. "It's life." He repeated the words of the helmsman. "And I'm a practical man."

12

E
LLA'S
voyage from Castlemere to Seranthia was long but uneventful. She'd found herself in good company: the captain was a congenial man with a host of stories from his adventures at sea; the officers were simple men yet took evident pleasure in their work; while the presence of Rogan and his family ensured she felt she was among friends.

As the ship slid into Seranthia's great harbour Ella couldn't help but stare up at the eerie statue of the Sentinel. Now that she knew the secrets the Sentinel guarded, Ella felt fear where before there was only awe.

Someone had crossed over. Where were they now?

The massive statue stood astride a wide pedestal, almost entirely occupying the rocky island barring Seranthia's harbour. There was now a small pier on the island, from which men were hurrying back and forth carrying heavy stones from a barge.

They took the stones to where a wall was under construction, a wall around the perimeter of the island. Even from her distance Ella could see runes on several of the stones — this wall was being constructed by the builders of Torakon. Since his recent discovery, Evrin was taking no chances. He couldn't destroy the portal, but he could wall it up.

Progress was slow and the wall was low. Ella could see it would take a long time to complete, particularly if Evrin intended to enclose the entire statue.

Even then, would it be enough?

Soon the ship was a scene of organised chaos as the crew readied for docking, clearing the decks and reefing the sails. Ella descended to her cabin to get her things, and by the time she'd returned above decks they were tied up at the quayside.

"Enchantress, we've lowered the gangway. You may now disembark," the captain said, giving Ella a small bow.

"Thank you for getting us here safely, Captain," Ella said.

A sailor helped her descend the gangway, and soon she stood on the firm wooden planks of the dock, feeling them sturdy under her feet. Ella felt a strange sense of rolling motion, even though her head told her there was none: a legacy of the voyage. She hoped it would go away soon.

Ella looked around for Rogan, finally spotting him descending the gangway, Tapel and Amelia in tow. He thanked the captain and the two men shook hands.

With the return to Seranthia, Ella could see the lines of stress had returned to Rogan's forehead. He waved to the men on the ship and came over to where Ella stood waiting.