Stalking Darkness

Nysander heading his way.
    “I found it!” he shouted. “I found your white rock, Nysander. It’s real!”
    Micum let out a happy whoop and Seregil answered with one of his own.
    “What do you say for Illioran mysticism now, Micum?” Seregil demanded breathlessly as he reached them.
    Micum shook his head, grinning. “I’ll never understand it, but it’s surely led us well so far.”
    “There were black stones around the base of it, and I foundthese, too,” Seregil told Nysander excitedly, showing him the clay figure and the carved bit of shell.
    “Illior’s Light!” the wizard murmured, examining them. “Come along,” he urged, grasping them both by the arm. “Carry me if you have to, but get me to that stone before the sun goes down.”
    But they didn’t have to carry him. Swinging his staff ahead of him, Nysander strode over the ledges with much of his old energy. It was as if his news had revitalized the wizard, Seregil thought. Perhaps Nysander had needed this solid affirmation of his visions as much as the rest of them.
    “Oh, yes, this is the one,” Nysander said as they reached the stone. Placing both hands on it, he closed his eyes.
    “It is old, so old,” he said almost reverently. “It was placed here long before the first Hierophant landed on Plenimaran soil, but the echo of ancient worship is still so strong in it.”
    “You mean this is some ancient shrine?” asked Micum, examining it more closely.
    “Something of the sort. Those objects Seregil found have been here for over a thousand years. They should be put back.”
    Seregil replaced the figure and shell ornament as he’d found them. “I looked the big stone over, but I didn’t see any markings. Still, if this was a shrine, maybe it’s the temple the prophecy meant.”
    Nysander shook his head. “No, this is only a marker. Of that I am certain. Before the forest grew up it would have been visible from the sea. From the trail, too, if it existed whenever this was placed here.”
    “Then the temple must be back up in these woods somewhere,” said Micum. “You rest here, Nysander. Seregil and I’ll take a look.”
    The forest here was old virgin growth, Micum saw with a certain degree of relief. The huge, wind-twisted pines were widely spaced, with little undergrowth beneath them. Despite the good visibility, however, after an hour’s searching neither he nor Seregil had found anything remotely resembling a temple or any other structure.
    Returning to the shore, they found Nysander down on the ledges. It was late afternoon by now, and the tide was nearing its lowest ebb.
    “Nothing, eh? That is very puzzling.” Leaning on his staff, Nysander frowned out at the sea. “Then again, if we are not finding what we seek, then perhaps we are not looking for the right thing.”
    Micum sank down on a rock with a discouraged groan. “Then what should we be looking for? We’ve only got three more days before this eclipse of yours.”
    Seregil scanned the cove pensively, then set off toward the waterline. “All it means is that it isn’t a building.”
    “I know that look,” Micum said, watching him cast back and forth along the ledges like a hound seeking a scent.
    The wizard nodded in bemusement. “So do I.”
    “What are you looking for?” called Micum.
    “Don’t know yet,” Seregil replied absently, poking through the seaweed floating in one of the larger tide pools.
    “See how the formation of the stone forms a natural amphitheater?” Nysander pointed out. “You try those higher ledges. I shall take the right.”
    Micum scrambled diligently up and down the rocks, but found nothing but bleached shells and bird droppings. He was just wondering if Nysander ought to spare a bit of magic after all when Seregil let out a triumphant cackle below.
    “What is it?” Micum demanded.
    Seregil lay sprawled on his belly, his arms plunged nearly to the shoulder into one of the long, narrow fissures that ran down the lower ledges to the sea.
    “Come see for yourself.”
    Climbing down, Micum and Nysander knelt and peered into the cleft in the stone.
    “Look here,” said Seregil, pushing aside a clump of rock weed. Beneath it, they saw rows of crudely carved symbols cut into the rock six inches below the top of the crack. Moving along on hands and knees, they found that the symbols formed a continuous band spanning both sides of the fissure all the way down to the sea. A second crevice near the other side of the cove