Stalking Darkness

48

Irtuk 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' 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.

Nysander listened in silence until he reached the nightmarish dinner with Mardus. "Mardus himself told you that the Helm must be given lives to build its power? You are certain of this?"

Alec nodded grimly. "He said the younger the victim, the more power the death gives. It was Mardus' idea of revenge to have Thero and me be the last sacrifices at the final ceremony."

Seregil looked up sharply at this. "That's the key! If we strike quickly, before they complete the sacrifices, maybe we have a chance against this thing."

"Perhaps, but we must not underestimate its initial capabilities," warned Nysander. "It may well have some degree of power from the moment of completion. Very well. Go on, Alec."

Too tired to be anything but matter-of-fact about the nightly horrors Vargul Ashnazai had visited on them, Alec quickly outlined the details of the overland journey.

Seregil went pale as he described the visitation by Cilia and the invectives she'd hurled at him.

"Phantasms, nothing but illusions conjured up by this terrible man," Nysander assured him. "Such spells turn your own fears and imaginings against you."

"But what about when I saw Seregil?" Alec asked. "That was real. I touched him, felt him bleeding. There was blood on my hands the next day."

"More illusion," said Nysander. "He created Seregil's image using some poor victim so that the death would be convincing. Someone certainly died in front of you that night. I imagine Ashnazai meant to break your spirit once and for all."

Alec glanced guiltily in Micum's direction. "I enjoyed killing him. I know that's wrong, but I did."

"Don't fret over it," Micum said with a grim smile. "I'd have felt the same in your place. There's no dishonor in killing a mad creature like that."

Seregil chuckled blackly. "I plan to enjoy killing Mardus just as much."

"Vengeance is not our purpose," Nysander reminded them firmly. "Never allow yourselves to forget that their god can use our own emotions and weakness against us. Now allow Alec to finish his account so he can rest."

"There's not much to tell. After we got away from the camp Thero used the same spell you showed me the day you turned us into animals. I didn't know what he was doing until it was too late to stop him. Once he'd turned me into a stag, I ran. If he'd just given me a chance maybe I could have helped him, but something happened to my mind, just like the last time."

"There was nothing you could have done against anything conjured up by the likes of Irtuk Beshar," Nysander said. "Thero's decision was wise and honorable."

"As I see it, the real question is how to get at the Helm in the first place," Micum interjected.

"Alec says Mardus has at least two score soldiers with him. They're not just going to stand flatfooted while we waltz in."

"We'll have to see how they distribute themselves at the temple tomorrow," Seregil said, going to his pack.

"Assuming Mardus wasn't lying to Alec, then the prisoners will have to be close at hand during the ceremony. If we could get them loose, they could provide a diversion." Turning, he handed Alec his bow case and sword.

"You brought them!" Alec exclaimed, pulling the limbs of the Radly from the case and fitting it together.

"And your quiver," Seregil told him. "If Nysander's right about this prophecy of his, then you'll be needing these."

"There's plenty of high ground overlooking the temple site," Micum noted. "Alec could pick off some of the guards around the prisoners, start a panic. If the prisoners have any spirit left in them at all, they'll fight or run. Either way, it would give the rest of us a chance to make a dash for it in the confusion."

"There are only a score of arrows here," Alec said, opening the quiver to check his fletching. "Even if I made every shot, that still leaves a lot of armed men to deal with. These are Plenimaran marines we're talking about."

"We'll have our hands full, all right, but I doubt we'll have to take them all on at once," said Micum. "My guess is Mardus will post sentries and leave some others on guard at their encampment. It's the dyrmagnos I'm most worried about. Tell me more about her."

"She's pure evil," Alec answered bitterly.

"What she did to me, and to Thero—I don't even know how to tell you. By the time she was finished with me, I'd told her every damn thing she wanted to know. Nysander was right not to tell us very much. Once she started in on me, there was nothing I could do to stop her."

"I feared as much," murmured the wizard.

"When we finally did escape, she sent something after us. I didn't see it, but just the sound of it was enough to freeze your blood!"

"This is all excellent news," Nysander exclaimed, rubbing his white hands together in satisfaction. "The sacrifices, the spells she used on Alec and Thero, the creature. From the sound of things, she has allowed herself little respite since her attack against me at the Oreska House. No one, not even a dyrmagnos, can expend so much power over such a short period of time without it exacting a toll. Once she has finished with the Helm, she should be at least somewhat weakened. If we attack her then, perhaps we can disable her long enough to carry out our mission. And now, Alec, you should get what sleep you can. The greatest trial of all still lies before us."

"That's for certain," Micum muttered. "Four against forty. I'm going back down the road to keep an eye out for Mardus."

But Alec felt no dread as he stretched out under Seregil's cloak. No matter what happened, it couldn't be worse than what he'd already been through.

Micum found an outcropping that overlooked the coastal track and settled down to wait.

The weather had held fair; the sun felt warm against his back as he lay in his hiding place, listening to the sound of the birds in the woods around him. Looking out through the trees on the west side of the road, he could see the green waves rolling across the Inner Sea and the flocks of sea ducks that rode them.

What little he'd seen of Plenimar didn't look all that different from Skala. In fact, it appeared to be a pretty fine place overall— except for the Plenimarans.

It was midafternoon before he heard the first horses approaching. A vanguard of riders passed at a gallop. Soon after he saw more riders coming on at a walk at the head of a column of marines.

Micum had seen enough of Mardus up in Wolde the previous autumn to recognize him now, riding at the head of it. He wore military dress and the way he sat his mount told Micum this man was accustomed to command.

A woman in rich riding apparel rode at his side, her presence puzzling until Micum caught sight of her face and realized what she was. Flattening lower, he lay scarcely breathing, until the dyrmagnos had ridden past.

Behind them came more riders and marines. Micum spotted a few familiar faces among them, Captain Tildus and several of the soldiers who'd been with him in Wolde. The dispassionate calm that had kept him alive through so many battles settled over Micum as he silently marked men for death.

A line of wagons followed, including the bear cart

Alec had described. As it came abreast of Micum's hiding spot, he saw a thin, half-naked man sprawled face down in the bottom of it. He couldn't make out the face, but from the build he guessed it was Thero. Another wagon was loaded with small wooden cages, and a black bull was tethered to this one.

Next came a long procession of prisoners stumbling along in chains. Women, men, and children, some hardly older than Illia, marched in dispirited silence beneath the watchful eye of their mounted guards.

Behind them came wagons, servants, and livestock.

Micum's heart sank as he watched the last of the column pass. Alec had missed his guess; there were closer to a hundred soldiers.

By the Flame, he thought. We've got our work cut out for us this time.

While Micum was gone, Seregil spent some time spying on the Plenimaran camp, then went back to check on Alec.

He was still asleep, curled on his side beneath the cloak. A pained frown furrowed his brow, and his fingers twitched restlessly as he fought his way through whatever dreams still haunted him. Sitting down next to him, Seregil gently stroked Alec's tangled hair until the shadow left his face.

Nysander sat with several arrows across his lap. He'd produced a small dish of paint from somewhere and was painting symbols on one of the shafts with a fine brush.

Watching Alec sleep, Seregil shook his head with concern. "Do you really think he'll be up to fighting tomorrow?"

"He is young, and not badly hurt," the wizard assured him, not looking up from his work. "All he needs is rest."

Seregil rubbed absently at his chest. The last of the scab was peeling away and it itched. As his fingers brushed across the scar, he felt the tiny raised whorls of the disk's imprint.

It felt different.

Reaching for Micum's pack, he dug out the shaving mirror and held it out to see the scar. The round shape of the disk and the small square mark left by the hole at its center were still outlined in shiny new skin, but the imprint of the design had changed. What had originally been a cryptic pattern of lines and whorls had somehow transformed into a circular device of stylized knives, eyes, and necromantic runes.

"Nysander, look at this!" He pulled the neck of his tunic wider.

Nysander's bushy white brows shot up in surprise. "Do you recall me telling you that the design on the wooden disk concealed another? This is one of the siglas of the Empty God."

Seregil inspected it again. "I can read them. The runes, I mean. They're right way around in the mirror. I hadn't thought of it before, but since this is a brand, the whole design is backward."

Nysander tugged thoughtfully at his beard. "If this sigla is intrinsically magical rather than merely symbolic, such a reversal would have a significant effect on its power. It may even have helped protect you from the effects of the crown."

He smiled ruefully. "I should have guessed it sooner, I suppose, but I had been putting your survival down to your magical dysfunction. This may well have been an ameliorating factor."

Seregil, hoping to get a little sleep stretched out beside Alec. "I'd call that left-handed luck, but I guess I'll take it—I just hope it works for us tomorrow."

Nysander took up his brush again. "As do I, dear boy." I take any kind I can.