Stalking Darkness

him in surprise. “How on earth did you learn that?”
    “More visions,” said Micum, tossing wood on the fire. The sun was disappearing into the western sea, leaving the stars spread like a diamond veil above them.
    “Yes, it was a bowl,” Nysander went on. “And then Seregil and Alec brought me the wooden disk. Just before the Festival of Sakor, I sent Seregil after a third object, a crown which had beenhidden deep in the Ashek mountains. He knew at once, both by the condition of the bodies of sacrificial victims he found there and the evil magic that surrounded it, that it was related to the disk. However, I told him nothing and swore him to secrecy. Not even Alec knew.”
    “I still don’t see how you’d get any sort of helmet out of those odds and ends,” said Micum.
    “Their appearance hides their true form. A powerful protective glamour was placed on them by the necromancers who created them. Who would guess, even having all the pieces in hand, that a lopsided clay bowl, a crystal crown, and a handful of wooden disks could be parts of a common whole?”
    “What does it do, when it’s all put together?”
    “It was created to channel the power of the dark god. No one knows how long it took to forge the different elements, or what magicks were used. It first appeared near the end of the Great War, when it was assembled and placed on a man they called the
Vatharna
, or chosen one. Fortunately, the wizards of Skala and Aurënen overcame the first
Vatharna
before he had the opportunity to fully manifest the magic of the Helm.”
    “You mean to say that this
Vatharna
of theirs would eventually have all the powers of their death god?” asked Micum.
    “No one knows what the extent of its abilities might have been, but there is evidence that even in the short time it existed, the Helm granted its wearer terrible necromantic power. If it had not been dismantled when it was, I doubt anyone could have overcome it.”
    Seregil shook his head slowly. “Then those old tales of walking dead, armies of them, were true?”
    “It is likely there is at least a kernel of truth in them.”
    “You said dismantled, not destroyed,” Micum noted.
    “So it was, to the great sorrow of subsequent generations. The wizards managed to reduce it to its component parts, but before they could learn how to destroy them, Plenimaran forces attacked to reclaim them. When it was clear that the Skalan position would be overrun, six wizards were chosen to flee with the pieces and hide them. Only one was ever seen alive again.”
    “The one who took the bowl,” said Seregil.
    “Reynes í Maril Syrmanis Dormon Alen Wyvernus. It was he who eventually created that chamber in the lowest vault of the Orëska, and he who passed the onus of Guardianship down to hissuccessor, Hyradin, who passed it to Arkoniel, who passed it to me. Neither the Queen nor the Orëskan Council ever knew of its existence there. Any who tried to learn their secret were killed.”
    “These Guardians didn’t even trust the other wizards?” said Micum.
    “Who could be trusted with such knowledge? The Empty God understands nothing better than the dark corners of a mortal heart. Fear, pity, remorse, greed, the lust for power—these are the Eater of Death’s most potent weapons.”
    “Did Thero know?” asked Seregil.
    “No, he was not ready for such knowledge.” Nysander rested a hand on Seregil’s shoulder. “Part of my grief in losing you as an apprentice was the knowledge that you would have been such a worthy successor. From the day I took you on, I knew in my heart that you were capable of assuming the burden. When you could not learn the magic, I was devastated. But now I see that I was not mistaken about your worthiness, only about the role which you were destined to play. What you learned after leaving me, the life you went on to, it all prepared you to be the Unseen One.”
    Seregil scowled. “You think the gods made me a thief and a spy, just so I could steal the disk from Mardus? You think my whole life means nothing more than this one task? I refuse to believe that!”
    “No, not entirely,” Nysander said. “You recall me telling you that there is always a Guide somewhere, and all the others of the prophecy? Perhaps your life would have been no different if the Helm never existed, but being what you are, you are the Guide. I have speculated on it many times over the years, but it was only after you brought me the disk that I truly