Stalking Darkness

Over his friend’s broad shoulder, he saw a few sailors gathered nervously nearby, craning their necks for a glimpse of him.
    “Did I—?”.
    Micum nodded. “They heard you clear back to the stern this time. This is the third time.”
    “Fourth.” In the week since they’d set sail, the dream—whatever it was, since he couldn’t recall it when he woke—had come more often. Worse yet, he was beginning to nod off at odd times during the day to have it, this time in broad daylight right here at the foot of the bow platform.
    “Any man with time on his hands can report to me for extra duty,” barked Captain Rhal, scattering the knot of gawkers as he stumped up the deck.
    Reaching Micum and Seregil, he lowered his voice to a growl. “You said you’d keep to your cabin after the last time. The men are beginning to talk. What am I supposed to tell them?”
    “Whatever you can,” Micum replied, helping Seregil to his feet.
    “Those two who were with you on the
Darter
, can they still be trusted?” Seregil asked.
    “I’ve told them to keep their mouths shut about that and they will.” Rhal paused, still frowning. “But Skywake’s muttering about you being a jinx, a stormcrow. He knows better than to say it outright but the others are starting to sense it.”
    Seregil nodded resignedly. “I’ll keep out of sight.”
    Micum followed as he headed for the companionway. “By the Flame, you’ll get us pitched over the side for certain if you don’t mind yourself,” he muttered. “These sailors are worse than soldiers when it comes to anything that looks like an omen.”
    Seregil ran a hand back through his lank hair. “What did I say this time?”
    “Same as before, just ‘No, I can’t’ over and over until I got to you. I suppose I shouldn’t have left you when I saw that you’d dozed off.” Entering their cabin, Micum dropped onto his bunk. “Did you remember any of it this time?”
    “No more than before,” Seregil sighed, stretching out on his own bunk with a flask of ale. “I’m drowning, and I see someone looking down at me through the water. That’s all I can ever recall, but it scares the hell out of me. The closer we get to Plenimar, the worse it feels.”
    “I’m not so happy about it myself,” Micum said with a wry grin.
    Since rounding the southern tip of Skala two days before,they’d spotted half a dozen enemy vessels in the distance, and outrun two of these. This was another point of contention with the crew; there would be no bounty to divide up if they didn’t engage.
    “You don’t suppose Nysander could be trying to reach you this way?” Micum asked without much hope.
    “I wish it was, but I think I’d feel it if it was that.” He took a sip of ale and stared disconsolately up at the cabin ceiling. “Illior’s Light, Micum, what I
do
feel is a wrongness in him not being here. And Alec.”
    Seregil reached inside his coat, felt the dagger hilt there, and the soft lock of hair. If they were too late, if Alec died, was dead already—
    “You never said anything to him, did you?” asked Micum. “About your feelings for him, that is?”
    “No, I never did.”
    His friend shook his head slowly. “That’s a pity.”
    Aura Elustri málreis
, Seregil prayed silently, clenching the hilt until his knuckles ached.
Aura Elustri watch over him and keep him until I can plunge this same knife into the hearts of his enemies
.
    The pounding of feet on deck overhead woke them just after dawn the next morning.
    “Enemy sail off the port bow!” a lookout shouted.
    Snatching up their swords, Seregil and Micum ran above.
    Standing at the helm, Rhal pointed toward the northeastern horizon, where a black and white striped sail was just visible. “The bastards must’ve sighted us last night and trailed us.”
    “Can we outrun them?” asked Micum, shading his eyes. At this distance he could already make out the vessel itself, running low and fast over the waves.
    “From the cut of their sails, I’d say not. Looks like we’ll have to fight this time,” Rhal replied with a certain grim satisfaction. “I know your feelings on this, Seregil, but it’d be best if we take the offensive.”
    Seregil said nothing for a moment, but appeared to be studying the oncoming vessel.
    “The sails on that vessel aren’t so different from ours, are they?” he asked.
    “No, we’re rigged out about the same.”
    “So you could sail this ship with those sails?”
    Rhal grinned,