The Path of the Storm (46 page)

"Are you ordering us now?" Bartolo said, smiling to take the sting out of his words.

"I'm telling you what I believe. We need to open the portal."

"I can't let you do it," Bartolo said, growing serious again.

Shani scowled and straightened, placing her hands on her hips. "Let me? You can't… let me?"

"Please, both of you," said Jehral, his hands held out in placation. "Calm down. We need to make the right decision here. The wrong decision could leave Ella stranded on the other side."

"Opening the portal now is the right decision," Shani said.

"It's the wrong move," said Bartolo.

Jehral sighed, as the elementalist glared at her husband and the bladesinger returned her glower.

What was happening on the other side of the portal?

They had no way of knowing.

48

W
HILE
battle raged on the walls of Emirald, the sailors amongst the defenders were recalled and asked to convene in the harbour.

Commodore Deniz was fighting to close a breach when the order came. A skilled swordsman, the Holdfast champion three years running, he fought like a man possessed.

His blade was perfectly straight and custom-made from Narean steel. He had been a lieutenant for six years and a captain for ten. He'd crushed the pirate fortress of Gaskar and defeated Zafra the pirate king in personal combat. The Emir had personally promoted him to commodore, a rank he'd held for five more years. Deniz had seen his fair share of combat.

Deniz didn't understand this enemy, but he believed all creatures could be killed. The defenders had quickly learned that flame and heat were the best weapons against these unholy warriors, and pitch came up to the walls in a steady stream. Deniz discovered removing the heads was the most efficient means of despatching the creatures with a sword, and had made sure the men were instructed accordingly.

Heads now piled the walls in numbers, so that between the waves of attackers the defenders threw them down from the walls to clear space to fight.

As revenants poured onto the walls, Deniz came forward and took a barbarian's head from his shoulders in a single blow. He ducked a slashing sword and thrust into a throat, amazed again when no blood came out. His opponent's white eyes stared at him, and no cry of fear or pain came from the creature's mouth. Deniz hacked at his enemy's neck, once, twice, before the creature fell down. He narrowly avoided being skewered by a spear, and turned to face a new threat. Soldiers poured in to join him in closing the breach, and soon the scaling ladders were pushed back. Deniz despatched two more of the creatures and then the wall was clear.

Deniz lowered his sword and stood panting. The defenders around him cheered, though they knew it was only a matter of time.

"Water!" Deniz cried.

Instead, a soldier came forward and handed the commodore a hastily scrawled note.

The order from the Emir came as a mystery. Deniz could only assume they were going to try to assemble a naval force and flee. But where would they go?

Deniz turned to the men around him. "I've been ordered to the harbour. Any sailors on the walls are to join me there, pass the word around."

"What's happening, Commodore?"

Deniz decided truth was best. "I don't know. But I promise you, I'll send word when I find out."

The orders had been short.

All naval personnel to report to the harbour. Follow the instructions of the man who carries my signet ring. His name is Miro. Do as he bids.

Signed. The Ruler of the Seas, the Protector of Veldria and the Bearer of the Seal: Emir Volkan.

Miro. The name was familiar, but Deniz couldn't quite place it.

49

M
IRO
was with Amber at the harbour, looking for some leaders amongst the growing numbers of confused Veldrin sailors when a familiar figure came forward.

"You," Commodore Deniz said. "What's going on?"

The well-dressed captain of the
Seekrieger
was covered in blood and still carried his fine sword in one hand. He'd obviously come straight from the walls, and Deniz glowered at Miro, evidently believing he was needed elsewhere.

Miro displayed the signet ring the Emir had given him. "I need your help, Commodore."

"Explain quickly."

"You said my origin was a mystery. I'm from a land called Altura, in the east, across the sea. It's a long voyage to Altura, but not an impossible one. I am a leader in my homeland, and I have come to an arrangement with the Emir."

"What arrangement?"

"Right now there are women, children, the old and the young cowering in their homes. The city is lost, and the walls will fall. There is nothing any of us can do to prevent that. There is, however, something we can do for those people. I have offered refuge in Altura, my homeland, for every man, woman and child who can make the voyage across the sea. In return, the Emir has promised me your help in destroying those ships we don't take with us."

"You want our help in destroying the fleet?"

"This enemy is led by a man who has come to your city with one objective only. He wants these ships so that he can fill them full of warriors and take them across the sea. He cares nothing for your nation, this objective consumes him. He will come, nothing can prevent that, but if we destroy as many ships as we can, we will delay his arrival, and give my people time to prepare."

Miro could see Deniz was uncertain. "Look, Commodore, your city Emirald will fall. Veldria will fall, as the nations in your north have already fallen. But if we can take some of your people away from here, they can return one day to rebuild. Their memories will keep Veldria alive, and the future will be brighter for your people than the death that awaits them at the hands of these monsters."

"I see," Commodore Deniz said. "You gave the Emir your word, I presume?"

Miro smiled. "As a man of honour. I will see your people safe."

Commodore Deniz nodded. "I will do as you say."

He suddenly leapt into action, and Miro recognised a kindred spirit. This was not a man used to sitting still.

"Lieutenant Mustaf." He addressed a man in the crowd. "Do any of the ships still have powder aboard?"

"The Emir's ordered all the powder to the catacombs, Commodore."

Deniz swore. "Lieutenant, take fifty men and keep bringing powder kegs down to this position. Don't stop. Keep them coming."

"Yes, sir!"

Deniz pointed to another man. "Captain Atan, get fifty men together. Send them throughout the streets. Get everyone out of their homes. Tell everyone you can find we're taking them to safety. Send them down to the harbour."

"Yes, sir!"

"Captain Drefan, oversee getting them into the ships. Load up the warships and cruisers first. Start at the vessels closest to the harbour mouth."

"Aye aye, Commodore!"

Deniz addressed another man. "Lieutenant Oster, send ten men to the walls. Spread the word as quickly as possible. Tell those who fight that we're taking their women and children to safety. By the stars, if they weren't fighting before, they will now."

Deniz turned to Miro. "Do you know how to scuttle a ship?"

"I can start a fire."

"That'll do. Start here, close to the city."

Commodore Deniz raised his voice. "You know what we're doing here. Be prepared to act on your own initiative. We're sending our women and children to a new land, while we destroy those ships we aren't taking with us so that our enemy cannot follow. When a ship is full, assemble a crew, and set sail immediately. This is our only chance, men. Don't let me down!"

"Aye aye, Commodore!" the sailors chorused.

They quickly dispersed, and Miro realised he had ten men looking to him for orders.

"Where on the ships will we be guaranteed to find tools to make fire?" Miro asked the closest.

"The captain's cabin, sir. It'll be locked though."

"We can break down the doors," Amber said.

"Right. I'll take five men, you take another five. But, Amber…"

"What is it?"

"Be ready to flee. When they storm the city, it'll happen faster than you can imagine."

50

"
L
ORD
R
EGENT
, we must order the men out to fight the mob," the Tingaran captain said.

"They'll storm the palace," said an Alturan officer.

Rogan Jarvish cursed.

He'd gone out to speak with the crowd, but with nothing to add to his promises that things would be better, his words hadn't had any effect. He could hear the shouts now, rising up from Imperial Square, loud and angry.

"The Evermen will return!"

"Why should an Alturan rule Tingara?"

"The Assembly of Templars is not evil!"

"When will the essence return?"

Rogan paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists with every stride. "I can't countenance slaughter," he said. "And to what end? If they see blood, they'll tear down the gates."

"They'll tear down the gates anyway," the Alturan officer said bluntly. "This is a mob. They can't be reasoned with."

Rogan looked at Amelia, sitting tensed on a chair, looking at him with trepidation.

"Send my wife and son to safety," he suddenly said.

"We can't. Until we clear the grounds around the palace we're stuck here."

Rogan swore again.

He thought back to the past few weeks and wondered what he could have done differently. Since the attack on Miro's wedding, nothing had gone right in Seranthia. Back before the madness of Primate Melovar Aspen, the leader of the Assembly of Templars would have soothed a crowd like this, speaking of virtue and sacrifice. Rogan was no speaker, nor was he a religious man. He thought in terms of supply and strength, logistics and fortification.

He also couldn't send soldiers to battle against civilians. He knew if he sent his men out to subdue the crowd, stones would fly, swords would be drawn, and bloodshed would follow. It was inevitable.

"Could we send out soldiers without swords?"

"I'm not sending my men out there unarmed," the Tingaran said.

"Nor I," said the Alturan.

"Scratch it!" Rogan cursed. He couldn't argue with them though. These officers had the safety of their men in mind.

"What's that rattle?" Amelia asked.

"They're shaking the gates," said the Tingaran.

"By the Lord of the Earth's name, Rogan, you have to do something," Amelia said. "You've tried talking to them. Send out your men."

"I can't!" Rogan cried. "I won't have all that blood on my hands."

Amelia stood and walked towards him. "I know," she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's why you're the man I love. We'll just wait and pray."

51

S
MOKE
poured from four ships lying docked in Emirald's great harbour. Fire blazed from a fifth, and the ocean breeze fanned the flames so that a sixth vessel caught fire of its own accord.

Yet there were thousands of ships. Miro cursed. They weren't moving quickly enough.

Several great warships loaded with the women and children of Emirald had now left, sails raised hurriedly and massive bulks lumbering along under too little wind.

There was no way to tell how the defenders at the walls were faring, but the screams and clashes of weapons could be heard across the harbour. It was now early afternoon. Miro wondered if Emirald could hold longer than a day, when Wengwai had not. Commodore Deniz's words to the defenders must have had their intended effect.

The Veldrin soldiers were no longer fighting a lost cause; they were now fighting to give their loved ones time to escape.

Finally, as the sun began to fall towards the horizon, the powder kegs began to arrive at the harbour.

Miro, Amber, and the sailors helping them destroy the vessels no longer had to work in teams. Now all it took was a barrel of black powder placed at a particular part of the hold. A trail of powder made a clumsy fuse. It was dangerous work, and already they'd lost a man whose keg had detonated early. But the pace picked up, and as the heat of the burning ships intensified, the fire began to do the work on its own. The ships were crowded so close together that they began to leave those close to the flames alone.

Soon, more than a hundred ships were burning.

Miro wiped sweat from his forehead as he scanned the dock to find his next target. His face was black with soot and a patch on his arm was burned red and raw. In the distance, he saw the masts of three more ships moving along as still more women and children made their way to safety.

He could see them on the dock, crowds of confused people milling around as the sailors tried to get them into order. Someone had realised they would need provisions, and barrels were being rolled along, taking valuable men away from helping Miro destroy the vessels. Miro couldn't blame them. It was natural for the sailors to work to save more of their people and ensure they arrived at their destination in safety. Hampering the efforts of those who would follow was secondary to the men of Veldria.

Miro selected his target, a large merchantman, dwarfing the two ships on either side. He sprinted along the waterfront and grabbed one of the powder kegs, seeing there were only three more left. He swore; the men who had been bringing the small barrels down from the catacombs must have decided their efforts were needed elsewhere.

Concussive booms sounded as more vessels were destroyed, mingling with the battle cries drifting down from the walls. As he scampered along from ship to ship in a row, finally bringing him to the high deck of the merchantman, Miro searched for Amber but couldn't see her; she must be deep in one of the holds.

He was growing adept now at finding the shortest path to the hold, and soon he was placing the powder keg near the stern of the ship, deep between the ribs of the vessel, in a place dry and confined. He struck a match — still amazed at the simplicity of the invention — and touched it to the trail of black powder leading to the mouthpiece of the laid-down keg.