Stalking Darkness

that they were just fourteen against a hundred or more.
    She shook her head slowly. “Not yet. If they don’t move out tomorrow I’ll reconsider, but I can’t afford to lose any more of you. For now we wait and if they move north again tomorrow, we’ll follow.”
    Steb turned away angrily, and several others groaned.
    “I guess nobody’ll be going by ship!” exclaimed Rhylin, gesturing toward the sea again.
    The anchored vessel was on fire. As they watched in amazement, the rigging caught fire and sheets of flame spread to the sails.
    “Bilairy’s Balls, they scuttled her!” Jareel gasped. “A fire couldn’t spread that quickly unless someone meant for it to. What the hell are they up to?”
    Beka settled cross-legged on the grass, watching the reflection of the flames dancing across the water. “I guess we’ll just have to stick with them until we find out.”
    The following morning Alec’s guards woke him at dawn and led him to an iron cage mounted in the back of a small cart, the sort strolling players used to transport their trained animals. A thick mattress covered the floor of it, and there was a canvas awning over the top, but it still stank faintly of its former occupants.
    Thero was already inside, seated cross-legged in the far corner. Like Alec, his hands were no longer tied; and he’d been allowed to keep his tunic and cloak.
    “What a mangy pair of bear cubs,” Ashnazai sneered, coming up to the bars behind Alec.
    Alec moved away from him, although there wasn’t really anywhere to go; the cage was only ten feet on a side.
    “Lord Mardus is very busy now that we have landed, so I will be looking after you now,” the necromancer went on.
    He wrapped his hands around two of the bars, and Alec saw blue sparks dance over the iron, as if the cage had been struck by lightning. He jumped in alarm, and Ashnazai smiled his thin, unpleasant smile. In the clear light of the morning sun, his skin had a damp, unhealthy look, like the flesh of a toadstool.
    “Don’t you fear, dear Alec. My magic won’t hurt you. Not unless you try to get out. And of course, you are far too intelligent to do anything so foolish.”
    Still smiling, he walked away. He looked like a winter scarecrow as the wind off the sea tugged at his dusty brown robe.
    Hatred boiled in Alec’s veins. Never in his life had he wanted so badly to kill a man. When Ashnazai disappeared beyond a row of tents, Alec turned his attention to the camp around him.
    The back of the cart afforded a good view. From up here he could see the ranks of small white tents belonging to the soldiers and the herd of horses staked out beyond. The column that had met them on shore had at least fifty riders, as well as a crowd of people who were not in uniform and had the look of prisoners, although he was too far away to be certain. They had slept in the open under the watchful eye of swordsmen and archers. Mardus had brought at least a score of men of his own, making it aformidable force, all in the black uniforms of the marines. Going to the other side of the cage, he could see the smoking remains of the
Kormados
lying in the shallows like the skeleton of some wretched leviathan.
What happened to her crew?
he wondered. They’d even burned the longboats.
    He didn’t recognize the pair of soldiers who brought him breakfast a short time later. He spoke to them in the hope that they spoke some Skalan. If they did, they didn’t let on. Giving him a scornfully direct look, they passed some remark between them, spat on the ground, and walked off a few paces to join the other guards assigned to watch him.
    Alec hadn’t really expected better from them. Sitting down beside Thero, he put a bit of bread in the young wizard’s hand. When Thero did nothing, Alec said, “Eat.”
    Thero raised the bread to his mouth and took a bite. Crumbs fell into his beard as he slowly chewed and swallowed. Alec brushed them off and gave him a cup of water.
    “Drink,” he ordered wearily.
    The column formed up at midday and set off north along the coast. The northwest coast of Plenimar was wild, rugged country. The track they followed wound in and out of swamps, meadows, and forests of pine and oak, always with the shadow of mountains on their right and the sea in sight on their left, The farther north they moved, the more forbidding the coastline became. Rocky shingle gave way to red granite ledges and cliffs. A cold, constant wind sighed through the trees, stirring the