The Path of the Storm (42 page)

"Sloppy work. You're fortunate you didn't kill yourself, although in your case perhaps I should say unfortunate, for your current position isn't enviable. I saw the way you moved, however. Are you what they call a bladesinger?"

Miro hesitated. "No."

Miro sensed movement and tensed, his body turning rigid, fear coursing through his blood as he felt his shirt ripped open. Suddenly something burning, like coals from a fire, was pressed against the skin of his chest. He screamed and convulsed, smelling blistering skin and hearing sizzling. The thing pressed to the bare skin of his abdomen was then removed, but the pain continued, working through his body in waves.

"That was just my hand," Sentar said. "Not much artistry there. It's time to fetch your woman. I'll start by removing the skin of her face. You'll be surprised, but that's not the most painful place. Soon you will be begging me for her death."

"Yes!" Miro cried. "I'm a bladesinger!"

Sentar Scythran laughed, a sound of superiority and triumph. It was all the more chilling against the backdrop of screams and anguished cries.

"You are Miro, aren't you?" He laughed again. "Miro Torresante: one of the few men holding the Empire together. Your name is on every man and woman's lips. If I had killed you with my device, ah, what a triumph! But now you've come to me of your own accord, and all for the life of your son. You could have sent another but you've come yourself, and now you're in my power."

"You'll never win," Miro said. "We're stronger than you, and we always will be."

"Humans? Strong? You're always bickering, and warring amongst yourselves. You need rulers like us, to keep you from tearing each other's throats out, to keep you in line. This time, though. This time I don't want to rule you, and nor will my brothers. This time, Lord Marshal Miro, we will scour you from the world, until you are not even a memory."

"We're better than you," Miro whispered. "We always will be."

Sentar Scythran moved to depart. "I'm going now, but I will be back shortly. I'm going to get your woman and tie her to a pole outside this tent, just as I promised. I won't even ask you a question before I start, I'll simply set to work. Get some rest, Miro of Altura. Open your ears. Prepare to hear her cries."

"No!" Miro shouted. The muscles in his arms bulged as he strained against his bonds, and his whole body quivered with effort. The ties held strong, and he slumped back with exhaustion.

He tried again as he heard Sentar Scythran leave the tent.

And again.

Some time later, the Lord of the Night returned.

40

S
ENTAR
Scythran stormed into the tent, staring down at Miro with his ice-like eyes blazing. Something had happened to shatter his previous composure.

"Start talking," he said. "The people of this continent have no lore, which is why I came here to raise my revenant army. I don't understand your bladesingers and golems, avengers and nightshades. You've seen my army. Do we have anything to fear from the lore of the houses?"

Miro opened his mouth, the words initially coming haltingly, and then faster as he spoke. "Yes. Your army has everything to fear. A bladesinger of Altura is worth a thousand men in combat. A golem of Halaran is more powerful, more indestructible than any revenant. Tingaran avengers fight like demons, and if you think of the strength of trees than you can imagine what it is like to fight a nightshade of Vezna. You have everything to fear, Sentar Scythran." Miro finally allowed himself to grin. "She's not here, is she?"

This time Sentar's rage was unrestrained. With his back against the iron table, there was no space for Miro to duck his head. The iron fist smashed into his cheek, and a second blow under his other eye rocked his vision.

Even as he wondered how Amber had managed to escape, Miro felt a sensation of intense pleasure overwhelm the terrible pain he was in. He knew he could hold out now, no matter if Sentar flayed him alive, or burned his eyes with pokers. The secrets of the Empire were safe.

A third blow struck Miro, crushing his nose against his skull. The pain drove like nails into his head as he heard the bones crunch together.

Sentar struck Miro again and again, but Miro didn't feel a thing as his vision narrowed to a tunnel, and unconsciousness enclosed him in its embrace.

~

M
IRO
hovered in and out of consciousness for days. Sentar's fit of rage was a mixed blessing, for his wounds saved him from torture for a time, yet his enemy's wild fury took Miro close to death.

At some point he was loaded aboard a cart and for some time he travelled with the army as it headed south towards Veldria and the great harbour city of Emirald.

Miro knew the Lord of the Night's plan now. Gathering numbers as he went, Sentar Scythran would reach Emirald with an indomitable army. After sacking the Emir's beautiful city, he would take possession of the Emir's ships. Miro had seen for himself how many ships were in the massive harbour. Revenants didn't need food or water. Sentar would cram them on every vessel and set sail for the Empire. The closest nation was Altura.

Miro moaned when he woke, unable to prevent the agony bringing sound from his throat. He sometimes stayed awake long enough to call out questions, which sometimes were answered, but most times were not.

Someone tended to him on the journey south, although he wasn't sure if the healer did so out of tenderness. More than likely the healer had orders to rebuild Miro's strength to the point where he could be tortured further.

The healer did his work well, and Miro began to feel consciousness return for more than a few moments at a time. He tried to fake a comatose state, but with dread he heard someone send word to Sentar Scythran.

An indeterminate time later he felt his body being moved. Another indistinct amount of time passed, and then Miro opened his eyes.

He realised he was once again splayed on a cold iron table, staring at the ceiling of a tent.

This time Miro was naked.

There was a rustle, and the sound of heavy breathing, as someone entered.

Miro tried to lift his head but still couldn't see who it was. He felt his heart-rate increase and sweat broke out on his brow. The pain in his broken nose throbbed as if in expectation of further pain.

Miro wished he could simply die.

He heard further movement, and closed his eyes as he waited for the pain to begin. Would Sentar question him first, or would he simply start to slice and burn?

Miro tensed, unable to prevent the involuntary response of his body. With his eyes closed his hearing was amplified, and he heard a snicker and a snap. With surprise he felt a loosening of the tension on his right wrist. Another snap a heartbeat later and Miro's other wrist was freed.

He opened his eyes, flexing each hand as he did. A man in a black robe moved to the bindings around his ankles and swiftly cut each in turn.

Miro recognised the black robe of an alchemist, although this time the triangle was bound by a double circle. When the alchemist turned Miro saw a pair of shaggy eyebrows and kind eyes.

"Get up," the alchemist's voice was thin but curt. "I know you are weak, but we do not have much time. You need to be strong now."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Tungawa. I freed your wife, and now I am freeing you."

"Why are you helping us?"

"Those words are better saved for a more appropriate time. Here." Tungawa threw Miro a bundle of black clothing.

Miro slid off the iron table and wobbled as he tried to hold himself on two feet. For a moment he thought he would faint. Pain throbbed in his head, blood rushing to the wounds on his face and sending waves of agony to his battered flesh. With a supreme effort of will he fought the pain, battling it like an adversary, clenching his jaw and holding himself still.

He realised he held a black alchemist's robe akin to the one Tungawa wore. He pulled the robe on over his head and raised the cowl to cover his face.

"Quickly," Tungawa said. "Come."

Miro followed the alchemist out of the tent. Two revenants lay sprawled on the ground outside the entrance.

"A powerful poison," said Tungawa. "It destroys the nerve centres so the muscles no longer respond. Even revenants are susceptible. Please, we must be fast."

Sentar was evidently busy, but as soon as he finished whatever he was doing and went to interrogate his prisoner, the alarm would be raised. Tungawa was risking a terrible fate by helping Miro escape.

Miro kept his head down as he followed the alchemist, trying to move quickly without appearing to run. With his limited perspective he saw the silver robes of Akari necromancers and tall legs clad in furs: barbarian warriors. Miro passed tent after tent, any moment expecting the alarm to be raised. If they were caught, Miro decided he would force his enemy to kill him rather than suffer interrogation and torture at the Lord of the Night's hands.

He sensed they were leaving the encampment and wondered how Tungawa planned to leave without being questioned. Each footstep was leaden and Miro fought the pain in his head just to keep moving. He felt he'd been following the alchemist for hours, but he knew it had only been several minutes. Every time he heard a shout or a cry he thought the alarm was being raised, and fear made the bile come to the back of his throat.

They entered a sea of people.

Realisation hit Miro like a punch in the stomach. Rather than heading away from the encampment and raising a cry, Tungawa planned to hide in a place where no sane man would choose to travel, yet where they would disappear instantly.

Tungawa led Miro through the revenant army.

The barbarians of Oltara and Muttara formed eerily still ranks on both sides. Mingled through their numbers were the defenders of Narea and Gokan, now fighting on their enemy's behalf in death as they never would have in life. Miro brushed past a huge northerner and in his haste to avoid the man's touch he stumbled, falling into a Gokani woman. Tungawa pulled him back upright as Miro stared into the white eyes of the revenant, seeing the slash across her throat where the necromancers had ended her life.

Without orders the revenant returned Miro's stare but did nothing, and Miro and the alchemist resumed their journey through rank after rank of the undead.

They were the ultimate warriors: perfectly disciplined, needing no sustenance, feeling no pain, and loyal to the end. There was no use counting them, there were simply too many.

Miro stumbled again as weakness washed over him. This time he fell to one knee and cried out with the pain in his head.

"Get up!" Tungawa hissed. "They are slow to think, but some do."

Miro opened his mouth and retched, as the pain sickened him to the point nothing else mattered. His stomach was empty and nothing came out. He felt Tungawa's hand under his arm, pulling him up.

"Fight the pain." Tungawa said. "Do it for Amber."

Summoning strength from some hidden reserve, Miro stood up, battling his body's every desire to let unconsciousness close in and take away the pain. He took three faltering steps forward, sensing the revenants around him stir and seeing more and more of them turn their white-eyed stare on him.

He pushed the pain down, and felt his legs strengthen as his footsteps grew more certain.

"We're almost there," Tungawa said. "Just a little further."

Miro risked moving his head enough to look up. He saw trees ahead, and the sight gave him strength.

With a burst of fresh air they cleared the ranks of the revenants, and no cries were raised behind them. With Tungawa still holding his arm, Miro followed the alchemist into the trees.

Miro concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, his entire being consumed with that task. He desperately wanted to rest, but he knew that if he stopped the relief of unconsciousness would overtake him.

Then he could go no more. Miro fell over a tree root and pushed his head up with his hands but felt the strength leave his limbs.

There was a new voice beside him. A woman's voice.

"Oh, what have they done to you, my love?" Amber sobbed. "Tungawa, help me get him to the grove."

"He nearly didn't make it," Tungawa said. "You know we can't stay here. We're going to have to put him on the cart. The army occupies this entire region, but if we head for the river I know where there's a bridge to take us into Veldria. The only problem is it isn't a short cut by any means. The army will get ahead of us."

"We need to get him out of here. Take us to this bridge. Oh, Miro! No, don't try to speak."

"Thank you," Miro whispered. "I don't know how you did it, but thank you."

"Shh," Amber hushed. "Rest now. We'll go back to Emirald and we'll get the ship we've been promised. We'll be on our way home before you know it."

Miro fell into the waiting arms of oblivion.

41

"
S
OON
we'll be at the bridge," Tungawa said. "I have to tell you, by now the army will have crossed the main border at Renton. They'll now be in Veldria."

Amber looked down at Miro's sleeping form as the ox-drawn cart rumbled along the road. His chest rose and fell with healthy, normal sleep, and the tension in his body had eased; he was no longer struggling with the pain.

She had cleaned his wounds: his lips, split in three places; his cheeks, scratched and torn; and the twin lines of red dripping down from his broken nose.

Tungawa had helped Amber set Miro's nose, telling her it would now heal cleanly. Now, three days later, the black surrounding Miro's eyes had faded to blue, and he still looked terrible, but nothing like when Amber had first seen him.

Amber and Miro both wore normal travelling clothes, garments Tungawa had somehow procured. In the time since Miro's failed rescue attempt, the scorched wounds Amber had received at Sentar's hands had mostly healed. She had cut her hair short to remove the singed strands after it caught fire.