Stalking Darkness

36

Alec's teeth rotted and fell loose in his mouth.

Hot bile rose in the back of his throat, made doubly foul by the feel of the snakes squirming in his belly. He wanted desperately to curl up, writhe away from the interminable agony, but the iron spikes driven through his hands and feet held him spread-eagled. Blind and helpless, he lay waiting for release back into the dark dreams where there was only the sighing of wind and water—

Occasionally faces would intrude on his darkness, swimming out of the murk only long enough to leer, fading back out of sight before he could put names to them.

Fevers rose, flaming across his skin to burn out every memory until nothing remained but the rush of the sea—

Alec felt the chill of a salt-laden breeze against his bare skin, but no pain. His limbs felt heavy, too heavy to move just yet, but he ran his tongue over his teeth and found them sound. How could a nightmare feel so real, he wondered, or leave him so drained and confused?

The cold breeze helped clear his mind, but the world was still rolling under him in a vaguely familiar fashion. Opening his eyes, he blinked up at broad, square-rigged sails bellied out against a noonday sky.

And two Plenimaran marines.

Scrambling up to his knees, Alec reached instinctively for his dagger, but someone had stripped him to his breechclout, leaving him helpless. The marines laughed, and he recognized them as two of the men who'd pushed him around in Wolde.

"Don't be frightened, Alec."

Alec rose slowly to his feet, too stunned to speak. Less than ten feet away, Duke Mardus leaned at his ease against the ship's rail.

He'd been seated the one time Alec had seen him.

He hadn't guessed how tall Mardus was. But the man's handsome, aesthetic face, closely trimmed black beard, and scarred left cheek-Alec remembered those well enough. And the smile that never quite reached his eyes.

"I trust you slept well." Impeccably dressed in leather and velvet, Mardus regarded him with all the solicitude of an attentive host.

How did I get here? Alec wondered, still at a loss for words. A few details trickled back to him: the frantic ride to Watermead, a snarling dog, unlit lanterns, hoping to find Seregil home. Beyond that, however, there was only a blank greyness tinged with dread.

"But you're cold," Mardus observed, unpinning the gold broach that secured the neck of his cloak.

He motioned to the guards, who pulled Alec roughly forward and held him while Mardus swung the heavy folds around his bare shoulders.

Holding the brooch in place with one gloved hand,

Mardus slid the long pin through one of the holes until its blunt point pressed against Alec's windpipe.

Terrified, Alec fixed his gaze in the buttons of Mardus' velvet surcoat and waited. The pin pressed harder against his throat, but not quite hard enough to break the skin.

"Look at me, Alec of Kerry. Come now, you mustn't be shy."

Mardus' voice was disarmingly gentle. Without wanting to, Alec found himself looking up into the man's black eyes.

"That's better." Still smiling, Mardus fixed the brooch in place. You must not fear me. You're quite safe under my care. In fact, I shall guard you like a lion."

Alec felt someone come up behind him.

"Perhaps he does not understand his situation well enough to be properly grateful," a heavily accented voice hissed near his ear.

The speaker moved to stand by Mardus, and Alec recognized him as the silent «diplomat» who'd been with Mardus at Wolde.

"Perhaps not," Mardus said agreeably. "You must understand, Alec, that Vargul Ashnazai was all for gutting you like a fish the moment he laid hands on you. Not an unjustified reaction, considering the trouble you and your friend have put us to over the past few months. It was I who prevented him from doing so. "Why, he's nothing but an impressionable boy," I said many times as we stalked the two of you through the streets of Rhiminee."

"Many times," the necromancer said with a poisonous smile. "Sometimes I fear that the softness of my Lord Mardus' heart will lead him into harm."

"And yet how else am I to feel when I see such an intelligent and enterprising young man fallen in with such company." Mardus shook his head sadly. "A renegade Aurenfaie spy, outcast from his own people to whore for the queen of a decadent land, and a wizard admitted even by his own kind to be a mad fool?

"No, Vargul Ashnazai," I said, "we must first see if this poor lad can be saved.""

Mardus grasped Alec by the shoulders, slowly pulling him close enough for Alec to feel the man's breath on his face. His eyes seemed to go an impossible shade darker as he asked, "What do you think, Alec? Can you be saved?"

Trapped in the intensity of Mardus' gaze, Alec kept silent. Despite the implicit threat behind those honeyed words, there was something dangerously compelling in the man's manner, a force of personality that left Alec feeling powerless.

"This one has a stubborn nature," the one called Vargul Ashnazai muttered. "I fear he will disappoint you."

"Let's not be hasty in our opinion," said Mardus. "This Seregil of Rhiminee may have some claim upon his loyalty. You did say, after all, that you believe young Alec here has Aurenfaie blood in his veins."

"I am certain of it, my lord."

"Perhaps that's the impediment. There were so many conflicting rumors around the city. Tell me, Alec, is he by chance your father? Or a half brother? Age is so difficult to gauge with these Aurenfaie and they are by nature deceitful."

"No," Alec managed at last, his voice sounding faint and childish in his ears.

Mardus raised an eyebrow. "No? But friend, certainly. He may have called you his apprentice during that unfortunate masquerade in Wolde, but your circumstances in Rhiminee belie it. So then, friend. Perhaps even lover?"

Alec felt his face go hot as the soldiers snickered.

"I recognize loyalty when I see it," Mardus said. "I admit I am impressed to find it in one so young, even if it is blind loyalty to a man who abandoned you."

"He didn't!" Alec snarled.

Mardus gestured around them at the ship, the empty sea stretching away on all sides. "Didn't he? Ah, well. I suppose it's of little consequence to me what you choose to believe. Still, you might wonder why this trusted friend of yours chose to leave you to your fate when he might have saved you."

"You lie!" Alec was trembling now. He still couldn't remember anything that had happened after his arrival at the Cockerel.

"Are you so certain?" Mardus' smile was tinged with pity. "Well, we'll speak again when you're less overwrought. Vargul Ashnazai, would you be so kind as to assist Alec with some calming meditations?"

"Of course, my lord."

Alec tried to flinch away, but the guards held him still as the other man pressed cold, dry fingers against his cheekbone and jaw. For an instant Alec was overwhelmed by a thick, rotten odor, then a terrible blackness engulfed him, plunging him back into a morass of illness and pain where he couldn't escape the mocking echo of Seregil's long-forgotten warning, Fall behind and I'll leave you, leave you, leave you—

Alec awoke in the dim confines of a tiny cabin.

Still panting from the residual terror of the necromancer's trance, he sat up in the narrow bunk and tried to make out his surroundings. There was no lantern, but the weak light filtering in through a grate in the cabin door was enough to illuminate the foot of another bunk against the opposite wall.

Above the rush of water against the hull, he heard the distant, muffled sound of someone weeping loudly. The smell of rich broth wafted in from somewhere nearby, and he realized that he was hungry in spite of the lingering effects of the necromancer's magic.

Throwing off the thin blanket, he climbed out of the bunk, then froze. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he could see that the other bunk was occupied. A figure lay stretched there under a blanket, face hidden in the shadows. Clearing his throat nervously, Alec reached out to touch the person's shoulder.

"Hello. Are you—"

A hand shot from beneath the blanket, grasping his wrist in a ferocious, ice-cold grip. Alec lunged back, but the other man hung on, lurching up as Alec tried to pull free.

"By the Light," Alec gasped. "Thero!"

The young wizard was as naked as Alec, and a set of branks had been fastened around his head. Iron bands encircling the lower part of his face held an iron gag piece in his mouth, while another passed tightly over the top of his head between his eyes to join the first in the back. An opening for his nose had been left in the vertical band and the whole thing was secured under his chin by a chain. When Thero tried to speak around the gag his voice was hardly intelligible. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth to collect in his sparse beard and Alec guessed from the look in his eyes that he was either insane or terrified.

"Ah'ek?" Thero managed, still gripping his wrist with one hand as he brought the other up to touch Alec's face. Wide iron bands inscribed with symbols encircled his wrists.

"What are you doing here?" Alec whispered in disbelief.

Thero gabbled thickly for a moment, his desperation clear. Then, releasing Alec, he beat his fists against his head until Alec had to restrain him.

"No, Thero. Stop it. Stop!" Alec shook him roughly by the shoulders. Thero's pale, bony chest heaved with emotion as he shook his head violently and tried to pull away.

"You've got to calm down and talk to me," Alec hissed, caught somewhere between anger and terror himself. "We're in one hell of a mess and we're going to need each other to get out of it. Now let me try and get this contraption off."

But the branks were locked securely in back and he had no tools to open it. He searched the cabin with the scant hope of finding something-a nail, perhaps, or a splinter of wood-to use as a makeshift pick.

He found nothing except a bowl of broth by the door. Hungry as he was, he left it untouched in case it was drugged or poisoned.

Perhaps that's what's wrong with Thero, he told himself as his stomach rumbled. The drooling creature cowering on the bunk bore little resemblance to Nysander's reserved assistant.

Giving up at last, he sat down beside Thero on the bunk. "There's nothing here. You've got to tell me what you know. Go slow so I can understand you."

Still wild-eyed, Thero nodded and said slowly around the gag, was "Eye'ander's 'ead."

"What?" Alec gasped, praying he'd misunderstood.

" 'ysander dead. Dead!" Thero wailed, rocking violently back and forth in misery. "My fault!"

"Stop that," Alec ordered, shaking him by the shoulders. "Thero, you talk to me. What happened to Nysander? Did you see him killed or did Mardus just tell you it happened?"

"Carried me 'own, "lack creatures-through walls, floors-to— " Thero hugged himself, shuddering. "'tacked 'reska—'sander on the floor, they made me look. My fault, mine!"

"Why is it your fault?" Alec demanded, shaking him again. "Thero, what did you do?"

With a low moan, Thero wrenched away and curled deeper into the corner. There were long, curved scratches on his back and sides, and little crescent-shaped bruises along the tops of his shoulders.

"It was Ylinestra, wasn't it?" Alec asked, a vague, half-formed memory shifting uneasily at the back of his mind. "She did something, or you told her something?"

Thero nodded mutely, refusing to look at him.

Alec stared at him a moment longer, then rage exploded like a blazing sun in his chest. Grasping the iron band at the back of Thero's head, he yanked the young wizard out of his corner and shook him like a rat.

"You listen to me, Thero, and you listen well. If it does turn out that you betrayed us and got Nysander killed, then by all the Four I'll kill you myself and that's a promise! But I'm not sure about anything yet and I don't think you are, either. They've done something to your mind and you've got to fight it. Fight their magic and tell me what it was you said or did. What she did!"

"'on't know," Thero whispered hopelessly, spittle running from the corners of his mouth. "She kep' me with her 'at night. When black 'uns came, she 'eld me with 'agic. "en she thanked me and she laughed—She laughed!"

Releasing Thero in disgust, Alec pressed his fists against his eyes until fiery stars danced behind his closed lids.

"Thero, what did they do to you? Why can't you use your magic?"

Thero held out one arm, showing him the strange iron band.

"These keep you from using your magic?" Alec reached out and felt the unnatural coldness of the burnished metal. Running his hands over them, he could find no sign of any seam, joint, or hinge.

"Think so—" Thero shifted uneasily, wiping at his damp beard. "Not 'ertain. So much confused, nightmares, voices! "don't dare, A'ek, I don't dare!"

"You mean you haven't even tried?" Alec grasped

Thero's arms, bringing the bands in front of his face.

"You've got to try something, anything. For all we know these may just be a trick, something to cloud your mind."

Thero shrank back, shaking his head desperately.

"You have to," Alec insisted, feeling his own desperation creeping back. "We've got to get away from Mardus. There's a lot you don't know, but believe me, Nysander would want you to help me. If you want to make things right, then you've got to at least try!"

"'ander?" Thero's chest heaved as he looked distractedly around the cabin, as if he expected to find Nysander there. " 'ander?"

Sensing a chink in whatever madness held Thero, Alec nodded encouragingly. "Yes, Thero, Nysander. Concentrate on him, his kindness, Thero, all the years you spent with him in the east tower. For the sake of the faith he placed in you, you've got to at least try. Please."

Thero twisted the edge of the blanket in his fists as tears rolled from his mad eyes. "P'rhaps," he whispered faintly, "p'rhaps—"

"Just something very small," Alec urged. "One of those little spells. What are they called?"

Thero nodded slowly, still twisting the blanket. " 'an'rips."

"That's right. Cantrips! Just a simple one, a tiny little cantrip."

Trembling visibly, Thero half closed his eyes in preparation for the spell but suddenly looked up again. "You 'aid there's some'ing I 'on't know," he asked with a sudden flash of his customary sharpness. "What? I's his 'sistant; why didn't he tell me?"

"I don't know," Alec confessed, getting the gist of Thero's question. "He told us—told me so little I'm not even sure what it's all about. But he swore me to secrecy. I shouldn't have said anything at all, I guess. Maybe later, when we're out of this—"

Alec trailed off, suddenly wary. Thero was watching him intently, hanging on every word. "We'll talk about it later, all right? Please, try the spell now."

"'ell me first! Could 'elp!" Thero insisted, and this time there was no mistaking the feral intelligence in his eyes.

"No," Alec said, slowly moving away, though there was nowhere to go. "I can't tell you."

He tensed for some attack, but instead Thero slumped over sideways on the bunk like a discarded puppet.

The cabin door opened behind him and Alec felt a wave of terrible coldness roll into the room.

Whirling in alarm, he confronted a walking horror.

It took a moment to see that the wizened husk had once been a woman. Lively blue eyes regarded him slyly from the masklike ruin of her face.

"That is most ungrateful of you, boy," she rasped, the cracked remnants of her lips curling back to reveal uneven yellow teeth, "but I think that you will tell me."