Stalking Darkness

almost see Seregil frowning impatiently at him from the shadows.
Assuming that you could swim with your hands tied, there are probably only about two hundred soldiers over there, not to mention at least one necromancer. Or were you just planning to take a nice deep breath down there in the blackness?
    And where, by the way, would any of that leave Thero?
    Alec clenched his fists as desperation threatened to overwhelm him again. He wasn’t ready to die, and he knew he couldn’t abandon Thero. He had no idea how much of this whole business, if any, was actually the young wizard’s fault; Thero’s garbled confession had been too enmeshed in Irtuk’s manipulations for Alec to give it full credence, though the doubt in his own mind was real enough. But guilty or not, he wouldn’t leave him behind.
    “You go now,” one of his guards ordered, prodding him toward the last longboat.
    It was too late to do anything but obey.
Illior and Dalna, gods of my parents, I beg your aid
, he prayed silently, moving forward.
    As he neared the rail, he caught sight of something lying halfhidden in the shadow of a bulkhead in his path, something he’d long since given up all hope of finding.
    A nail.
    Two inches long, square forged and slightly bent with use, it lay in plain view less than five feet from where he stood.
    For one awful moment Alec was certain the guards had seen it, too, that someone was sure to snatch it away if he so much as glanced back at it. Perhaps Mardus himself had dropped it there, as a last cruel test.
    There was only one way to find out.
    The guard pushed him again, less gently this time. Alec pretended to stumble, then fell flat on his face.
    He landed hard, but when he opened his eyes the nail was within an inch of his nose. Shifting as if he were struggling to get up, he quickly rolled over the nail, caught it with his lips and teeth, and had it safely stowed in his cheek by the time the guards pulled him to his feet.
    It was as simple as that.
    “What’s all the fuss about down there?” Beka asked, joining the scouts on the crest of the hill overlooking the Plenimaran camp.
    The Plenimaran column had headed steadily north since Beka and her riders began shadowing them. After three days they’d stopped on this lonely stretch of plain overlooking the Inner Sea. Beka and her people kept their distance, using their Plenimaranshod horses for closer scouting so as to leave no enemy hoofprints to betray their presence.
    For the past two days the Plenimarans had remained there with no apparent purpose. Just before sundown, however, a Plenimaran warship had sailed in from the west and dropped anchor.
    “Looks like someone from the ship is putting ashore,” Rhylin said, squinting into the last glare of sunset. “I don’t know what all the hoorah is, though. They’re all yelling and waving torches back and forth.”
    “Maybe that’s it,” Kallas whispered suddenly, pointing to the sky.
    Looking up, the others saw a fiery streak of light moving slowly up the sky from the eastern horizon.
    “Maker’s Mercy, a plague star!” Jareel muttered, making a warding sign.
    “I’d take that for an omen if ever there was one,” Rhylin said, making a sign of his own. “If that’s what they’re cheering about down there, then I don’t like it.”
    Beka had never seen a comet, yet the sight of this one brought with it a strange feeling of recognition similar to the one she’d experienced when she’d first heard the sound of the surf a few nights before. This time it was stronger, more unsettling. There was also a vague impression of—rightness.
    “Lieutenant?”
    Beka turned to find the others regarding her solemnly in the failing light.
    “Could you make out any insignia on the ship?” she asked.
    “She was running without colors,” Rhylin replied. “We didn’t see any cargo come off her, either, just people. What do we do now?”
    “We could go down for a closer look once it gets dark,” Steb suggested hopefully.
    “Urgazhi
style, quick in, quick out,” urged Rhylin, taking his part.
    Beka considered their limited options carefully before answering. She shared their frustration, knew how badly they wanted to make a move. More than once in the days since they’d been dogging the column they’d caught glimpses of Gilly and Mirn among the crowd of prisoners, staggering along under the weight of the planks nailed across their shoulders. In the end, however, it still boiled down to the fact