Stalking Darkness (65 page)

“I’ll find him,” Seregil sighed aloud, resting his head in his hands. “He’s here and I’ll find him.” The gull regarded him with one skeptical yellow eye, then flapped off with a derisive jeer.

Turning his head to watch it, Seregil froze in disbelief. A wan, battered spector stood looking down at him from a shelf of rock not twenty feet away.

“Alec!”

Thin, bruised, and naked, Alec swayed visibly as the wind buffeted him. Despite his obvious exhaustion, however, he was poised for flight.

“Alec, it’s me,” Seregil said more gently, watching hope and fear warring in those dark, narrowed eyes. What had put such deep distrust there? “What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing here?” Alec croaked, and the wariness in his voice went through Seregil like a knife.

“Looking for you. Nysander’s here, too, and Micum. They’re back that way.”

“Nysander’s dead,” Alec said, taking a step backward.

“No, he almost died, but he’s alive, I promise you. We know what Mardus is up to now. We were right, Alec. We are the Four—you, me, Nysander, and Micum. We’re all here to stop him.”

Alec shivered miserably as the wind whipped his hair across his pale face. “How do I know it’s you?” he mumbled faintly.

“What are you talking about?” Seregil asked in growing confusion. “What did they do to you? It’s me! I’m coming up to you now, all right? Don’t be afraid.”

To his amazement, Alec turned and fled.

Scrambling up the rocks, Seregil dashed after him and caught him in his arms, holding Alec tightly as he struggled.

“Easy, now! What’s wrong?” He could feel Alec’s heart hammering beneath his ribs. Panting, Alec twisted around and gripped the side of Seregil’s face in one hand. Fighting back his own sudden fear, Seregil loosened his hold.

Alec gingerly touched his hair, shoulders, and arms, his expression almost feral in its intensity and distrust. After a moment, however, the look disappeared, replaced by the most wondrous look of relief Seregil had ever seen.

“O Illior, it is you. You’re alive,” Alec gasped, tears welling in his eyes. “That bastard! I should have guessed, but the blood, your voice, everything. But you’re alive!”

Shuddering, he grabbed Seregil in a fierce embrace.

“Last time I looked,” Seregil rasped, his throat tight with emotion as he hugged Alec to him.

The boy was trembling badly now. Releasing him just long enough to get his cloak off and swing it around Alec’s bare shoulders, Seregil helped him down in the lee of a large rock and held him close as the boy trembled and wept.

“I thought you were dead,” Alec exclaimed hoarsely, still clinging to Seregil as if terrified that he’d disappear. “It was Vargul Ashnazai. He made me think you’d come to rescue me, and he killed—” Alec let out a harsh sound between a sob and a laugh. “But I killed the son of a whore!”

The story that spilled from him was broken and confused, but Seregil was able to piece enough together to begin to guess what kind of torture Alec had been subjected to. Tears of helpless rage stung behind his own eyes as he stroked Alec’s hair, murmuring softly to him in Aurenfaie.

Coming to the end of his tale, Alec rested his head wearily on Seregil’s shoulder and drew another shuddering breath. “The worst of it—When Ashnazai killed you, tricked me into thinking he had—he said things—” Alec squeezed his eyes shut. “I thought you died believing I’d betrayed you.”

Seregil stroked a strand of hair back from Alec’s forehead and kissed him there. “It’s all right, tali. If it had really been me, I wouldn’t have believed him. I know you too well for that.”

“And I never told you—” Alec’s pale face flushed crimson. “I don’t understand it, but I—“

He faltered and Seregil pulled him closer. “I know, tali. I know.”

It was Alec who brought their lips together.

Seregil’s first reaction was disbelief. But Alec was insistent, clumsy but determined. It lasted an instant, an eternity, that one awkward kiss, and it spoke silent volumes of bewildered honesty.

The moment that followed was too fragile for words.

He’s exhausted, confused. He’s been tortured past the point of endurance, Seregil warned himself, but for once, the doubts refused to take root.

Father, brother, friend.

Lover.

He closed his eyes, knowing that whatever grew up between them, it would be enough.

Alec was the first to break the silence. Wiping his face on the corner of the cloak, he said, “We’d better keep going. If I fall asleep now I don’t think you’d be able to wake me again. Mardus is on his way.”

“You’d better get some clothes on.” Seregil stood to pull off his tunic and felt the weight of the black dagger he’d carried inside it.

“I almost forgot, I’ve been saving this for you.”

Taking the knife out, Seregil unwrapped the scarf he’d wound around it. He held it a moment, his symbol of both defeat and hope through the long days of their separation. At last he tugged the knotted hank of hair loose from the hilt and let the wind snatch the golden strands from his fingers, scattering them over the rocks and into the sea.

I
rtuk Beshar rode to the front of the column and fell in beside Mardus. Captain Denaril, leader of the land force that had met them upon landing, gave place with a barely concealed shudder.

Mardus greeted her with a gracious nod. “Good morning, Honored One.” “And to you, Lord Mardus. Have your scouts returned?”

“Yes. They report no interference. We’ll make camp by late afternoon today and be well in place for the final ceremony tomorrow.”

“The will of Seriamaius is with you, as always, my lord.” Irtuk studied the dark man’s comely profile. “I must say, you seem remarkably sanguine, given the death of Vargul Ashnazai and the escapes last night.”

Mardus shrugged eloquently. “Ashnazai brought his death on himself, despite all my warnings. Losing Alec was regrettable, though. What a remarkable young man.”

“But the prisoners?”

“My trackers say the Skalan raiding party numbered less than a dozen riders and that they fled east. No, the Helm will be restored and I shall serve Seriamaius as the Vatharna.”

Mardus’ cold smile broadened perceptibly. “Not a shabby attainment for an Overlord’s unacknowledged bastard, eh?”

“I have foreseen this day since you were a child at my knee,” the dyrmagnos said fondly. “Even now the young Overlord suspects nothing. When the time comes he will be forced to give place to you, his trusted half brother. With the Helm on your brow and the hand of Seriamaius over you, no one can contest your claim to the throne.”

“And how is young Thero this morning?” Irtuk Beshar gave a dry, whispery laugh. “Subdued. Most subdued.”

The second scouting patrol was larger. Watching from the shelter of several large boulders, Micum counted a dozen Plenimaran riders moving up the track toward the temple site.

Stealing back to the salt pine, he found Nysander listening calmly to the scouts calling back and forth to one another as they spread out through the trees behind the site.

“What are they saying?” whispered Micum. “From the sound of it, they are looking for a place for an encampment.”

Before long the Plenimarans backtracked to a sloping meadow a quarter of a mile back the way they’d come.

Micum and the wizard followed cautiously.

“Looks like they’re settling in,” Micum said, watching as several soldiers set to work felling trees at the edge of the clearing. “And right in Seregil’s path, too. You can see the ledges from there.”

“He must have seen them earlier,” Nysander replied, heading back to the pine shelter.

“Let’s hope so,” Micum muttered. “I didn’t like the way he stormed out of here. You know, there’s nothing to do here just now. Maybe I should head out looking for him. Will you be safe?”

Nysander smiled. “From that lot? Oh, yes. You go on.”

Keeping behind the underbrush along the road, Micum passed the Plenimaran camp without being seen. From the cover of a fallen tree, he counted ten soldiers in the clearing. That left two unaccounted for.

When he was well away from the camp he moved out onto the ledges and looked south for some sign of movement. Nysander had not been specific on how far away Alec was. Checking the sun, he guessed Seregil had been gone a little better than an hour.

The incoming tide boomed against the rocks as he continued south. Another hour passed before he finally caught sight of two figures moving toward him in the distance. Though too far away still to make out details, he could see that Seregil was supporting Alec as they made their way unsteadily over a rocky stretch of shore.

Seregil drew his sword at the sight of him, then sheathed it again as he recognized Micum.

“By the Flame, we found you after all!” Micum exclaimed joyously as he reached them. Throwing an arm around Alec, Micum gave him a welcoming hug and helped him to a seat on a driftwood log. The boy was hollow-eyed with exhaustion, and dressed in Seregil’s boots, tunic, and cloak.

“Are you all right? Where’s Thero?” “Dead or captured,” Alec told him, and Micum heard the strain in his voice.

Seregil gave Micum a quick warning look. “Thero helped him escape. He’s had a rough time of it these last few weeks. We’ve still got a ways to go, Alec. Do you want to rest before we go on?”

“No, let’s just keep going,” Alec replied. “Where’s Nysander?”

“Don’t you worry about him. He’s safe. And by the Flame, so are you!” Micum said warmly, clasping Alec’s shoulder. “Bilairy’s Balls, Alec, I was afraid we’d lost you.”

“Have the second group of scouts reached the place yet?” asked Seregil.

“Two hours ago, I’d say. They staked out a camp just below the temple. I didn’t want the two of you running into them by accident, so I came out to meet you.”

“Thanks. I’ll need you to get him the rest of the way.” Seregil glanced down at Alec with concern. “He doesn’t have much left in him. I’m surprised we made it as far as we did.” “I’ll be all right,” Alec insisted, swaying as he got to his feet again.

“We’d better stick to the woods,” Micum said, slipping an arm under Alec’s. “It’s too exposed out here and I don’t know where they’ve posted guards. How far behind would you say Mardus is?”

“I lost all track of distance last night,” Alec confessed. “If the scouts have reached you, he can’t be much more than half a day behind.”

“What kind of force does he have with him?”

“I’m not certain, but I think he has at least forty soldiers, plus a gang of prisoners—maybe a hundred. And there’s the necromancer and a dyrmagnos.”

Micum’s eyes widened in alarm. “Damnation! He’s got one of those things with him? And prisoners?”

“I imagine it takes a lot of blood to make this Helm of theirs,” Seregil said bitterly. “Alec claims there were sacrificial murders on the ship as they came over, and more since they landed and met up with another force. That’s where this bunch of prisoners came from.”

“And the four of us are here to stop them?” Micum shook his head as they climbed up to the forest and started back.

With the help of Micum and Seregil, Alec managed to make it to the salt pine.

“Here you are at last, dear boy!” Nysander whispered, embracing Alec as he collapsed onto the carpet of dried needles. “I knew you would come back to us. And only just in time.”

“Seregil told me about the eclipse tomorrow,” said Alec, yawning as he settled with his back to the trunk.

“I know how weary you must be, but you must tell me all that you’ve learned. Then I promise, you shall rest. And you must eat!”

Seregil passed him some biscuit, cheese, and a skin of fresh water. Alec took a long gulp before he began.

“You were right, both of you,” he said, looking ruefully at Micum and Seregil. “I should’ve stayed at Watermead that night, but I was worried about Seregil. When I got back to the Cockerel—“

He paused, blinking back fresh tears.

“They know,” Seregil told him, moving closer beside him. “I got there at dawn and saw everything. What happened after that?”

“They jumped me as soon as I came in, Ashnazai and his men. I managed to wound a couple of them before they took me down.”

“Vargul Ashnazai?” asked Nysander. “Ah, yes, I have heard of him.”

Alec smiled bitterly. “You won’t anymore. I killed the bastard last night. That’s how Thero and I got away. At least I did.”

He looked around at the others earnestly. “He saved my life. Whatever else he did, he saved my life and he’s probably dead now because of it. He used his magic to help us escape, then he changed me into a stag the way you did, Nysander.” Alec’s chin trembled but he didn’t stop. “I—I ran away. He chased me off and I ran. I can still hear—“

The wizard clasped Alec’s hands between his. “I won’t tell you not to grieve, dear boy, but you mustn’t blame yourself. Please, continue with your story. You were speaking of the inn.”

Alec wiped at his nose with a dirt-streaked forearm. “I don’t remember much after that, until I woke up aboard the ship. Mardus was there, and Ashnazai, another necromancer I didn’t see much of, and a dyrmagnos woman called Irtuk Beshar.”

Steeling himself, he related his treatment aboard the Kormados.