Stalking Darkness

suddenly?
    Feeling Alec’s fleeting tremor again, he focused the slightest burst of magic on it, silently mouthing,
Come to us, Alec. We need you
.
    They’d taken shelter beneath an old salt pine in the forest above the temple site. The tips of the tree’s lower limbs swept nearly to the ground, forming a low, tentlike space inside.
    Stretched out on the thick fragrant bed of fallen needles,Micum snored softly. Beside him, Seregil tossed restlessly, muttering in Aurënfaie.
    The wizard had felt little need for sleep since his arrival in Plenimar. The quiet hours of the night were too precious to waste. Instead, he kept watch and wove his meditations, nurturing his returning strength. He only hoped it would be enough when the time came.
    Seregil shifted again, uttering a low moan. Nysander considered waking him, sharing this first sign of hope, but it was too soon; if Seregil believed Alec was nearby, then he would strike off on his own after him. Alec was still too far away.
    Leaning back against the pine’s knobby trunk, he resumed his lonely vigil.
    The Four was whole again; they would find each other.
    Beka’s raiders pushed due east until the moon set. At dawn they found themselves on a rocky highland overlooking the misty blue sea in the distance.
    Mirn’s and Gilly’s hands looked like bloated gloves, mottled with angry shades of purple, red, and yellow. When Braknil had finished with the new dressings, Beka drew him a little apart from the others.
    “You’ve seen this before. What do you think?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
    “I’d give a year’s bounty for a drysian.” The sergeant was careful to keep his back to the others. “Even then I don’t know if the hands could be saved. As it is here, field dressing’s the best I can do and I’ve got no simples to work with but brine. That might be enough to draw the pus off, but if they take the blood poisoning—” He gave a small, expressive shrug. “Well, it’d be kinder to speed them on.”
    Looking back to the others, Beka watched Tare coaxing the wounded men to drink.
    “Thirty-four of us rode out of Rhíminee together, a green lieutenant and green troops, except for you,” Beka said grimly. “Now look at us.”
    “It was that attack on the regiment that cleaned us out,” Braknil reminded her. “You led us well there. What happened wasn’t your fault. Every one of us that fell went down with honor. We’ve fared damn well with all the raiding we’ve done since and that
is
yourdoing. All that counts now is getting back to our own lines with what we’ve learned.”
    Beka gave her sergeant a weary half smile. “So you keep telling me. Let’s see if Mirn and Gilly have anything to add.”
    “Some of the other prisoners spoke some Skalan,” Mirn told them weakly, his head resting on Steb’s leg. “One of them said the general’s name is Mardus, a lord of some degree. He’s got necromancers with him, too.”
    “Necromancers,” snorted Gilly, staring down at his useless hands. “One of them looked more demon than wizard. Black as something raked out of the fire, but alive as you or me! No one knew where we were headed, but everyone knew what was going on at night and it was her doing it!”
    “It was some kind of sacrifice,” explained Mirn. “The guards came every night at sundown and you could see everyone trying to shrink down out of sight any way they could, hoping they wouldn’t be the ones chosen. We were on the other side of camp from the ceremony most nights, but we could hear well enough to know that they were cutting up the poor buggers alive—” He broke off, shuddering. “Afterward the other wizard, the man, would conjure up a black fetch to take away the bodies. The next day we’d march right over the spot where it happened and I swear to you, there wouldn’t be so much as a drop of blood anywhere.”
    “A black fetch?” several riders murmured uneasily.
    “By the Flame! You suppose that’s what we heard howling in the woods last night?” Tare asked.
    “Go on,” Beka urged, ignoring the others.
    “What I’ll never figure is why they didn’t do us,” Gilly groaned, his voice suddenly unsteady. “By the Flame, Lieutenant, we were enemy captives. They planked us, all right, but nothing more. All the rest of the lot were plain folk: sailors taken by press gangs, Skalans, Mycenians. Women and children, too. But most of them were Plenimarans. Their own people!”
    Both men fell silent, then