Who were these people? Where did they come from? Where did they go?
Miro crossed the river at a sturdy bridge of stone, overgrown with weeds, yet still strong. His path took him around a bend, and as he ducked under some trees, he left the river behind.
There was fresh water here, he reminded himself. At least they wouldn't die of thirst.
The path became broader; it must have once been a road. Miro heard the sound of waves splashing against a shore a moment before he caught sight of the sea.
Through the trees Miro saw was the remnants of a pier. No matter how sturdy it had once been, the action of the waves had taken its toll, and all that was left were thick timber piles and a few planks of wood. Further away, Miro saw several more piers, forming what was left of a large dock.
The road took Miro to the shore, and then turned to run parallel to the sea. Miro's footsteps took him towards the crumbled buildings of what had once been a proud town.
The silence was ghostly, the sense of abandonment complete.
The structures varied in size and shape, but their walls were all made of perfectly fitted bricks in the same style as the mill. The roofs were peaked and tiled, although most had collapsed as their beams rotted and the weather knocked the tiles loose. On the side facing the street, the bricks had been painted with each building a different colour to the next. Even after so much time, the colours were vibrant and alive: turquoise, yellow, emerald and pink. The facades reminded Miro of multi-hued sweets.
The people who had lived here weren't scratching a living. They'd had time to decorate their homes.
Miro stopped outside the closest building.
The door had rotted away, leaving a gaping hole, shadowed by the remnants of the ceiling. He stepped over some rubble and peered into the darkness.
It had once been someone's house. Miro pictured a family here, the husband perhaps a builder, or a fisherman, the wife hanging pictures on the wall and tending the garden while children ran about.
Miro left the house and continued down the street past several similar buildings. He saw a lumber mill, now wild as the forest, and a masonry yard, its purpose evident by the worked blocks of stone.
Miro entered three more buildings, all houses, and then he came to a shop.
He guessed it was a place where goods were bought and sold by the earthenware bottles lined up against the wall. The shelves had decayed and collapsed, but Miro could see the pins that had held them in place. Broken glass covered the ground.
Miro held his breath. Perhaps here, he would find some sign of the poisonous powder, or its antidote.
The bottles were all empty. Whatever the glass had held, he would never know.
Miro left the building.
He pondered as he explored. These people had obviously left in a planned manner, taking their important belongings with them. It also seemed obvious they didn't use lore. All of the houses had hearths, blackened by fire, where in Sarostar only the poorest people burned wood or coal for warmth. He'd seen lanterns in two of the houses, and leather harnesses he could only assume were for animals.
Miro entered yet another building. It looked like it might have been an eating house; there were long tables with bench seats and Miro guessed the next room had been a kitchen, although that part of the building was rubble. He spotted some small barrels, but they were rotten and Miro guessed they'd once held wine.
Miro turned to exit the building when he heard a sound.
His muscles tensed as the sound sent chills along his back. There was no way it could have been natural. Something or someone had moved, dislodging some stones. Miro heard heavy breathing.
Miro held his axe, ready for whatever came. He walked towards the rubble, his eyes straining to see.
A pair of red eyes regarded him, and he heard a growl. The growl turned to a snarl, and a dog came rushing at him, snarling and snapping its jaw, trying to get at Miro's legs.
Miro leapt back. The dog jumped in fright and scurried back to the rubble, once more hiding from the intruder.
Miro felt sorry for it. It was skinny and wild, probably subsisting on birds or forest creatures. There must be more of them, left here either by the inhabitants or Toro Marossa's exploration party.
Thinking of Toro Marossa made Miro remember what he was here for. Toro had found the poisonous powder in an ancient ship.
Miro left the dog to its growling and headed for the dock.
When he reached it, he felt a surge of disappointment. There weren't any ships here, and the dock itself was ruined. He couldn't see any signs that Toro Marossa had come this way, signs that would have been comforting and told Miro he was at least following in another's footsteps.
From the shore Miro could see the next island and the misty mountain that crowned it. The sun was falling towards the mountain. He didn't have much time.