Stalking Darkness

and Micum. We’re all here to stop him.”
    Alec shivered miserably as the wind whipped his hair across his pale face. “How do I know it’s you?” he mumbled faintly.
    “What are you talking about?” Seregil asked in growing confusion. “What did they do to you, tolí? It’s me! I’m coming up to you now, all right? Don’t be afraid.”
    To his amazement, Alec turned and fled.
    Scrambling up the rocks, Seregil dashed after him and caught him in his arms, holding Alec tightly as he struggled.
    “Easy, now! What’s wrong?” He could feel Alec’s heart hammering beneath his ribs.
    Panting, Alec twisted around and gripped the side of Seregil’s face in one hand. Fighting back his own sudden fear, Seregil loosened his hold.
    Alec gingerly touched his hair, shoulders, and arms, his expression almost feral in its intensity and distrust. After a moment,however, the look disappeared, replaced by the most wondrous look of relief Seregil had ever seen.
    “O Illior, it
is
you. You’re alive,” Alec gasped, tears welling in his eyes. “That bastard! I should have guessed, but the blood, your voice, everything—But you’re alive!” Shuddering, he grabbed Seregil in a fierce embrace.
    “Last time I looked,” Seregil rasped, his throat tight with emotion as he hugged Alec to him. The boy was trembling badly now. Releasing him just long enough to get his cloak off and swing it around Alec’s bare shoulders, Seregil helped him down in the lee of a large rock and held him close as the boy trembled and wept.
    “I thought you were dead,” Alec exclaimed hoarsely, still clinging to Seregil as if terrified that he’d disappear. “It was Vargûl Ashnazai. He made me think you’d come to rescue me, and he killed—” Alec let out a harsh sound between a sob and a laugh. “But I killed the son of a whore!”
    The story that spilled from him was broken and confused, but Seregil was able to piece enough together to begin to guess what kind of torture Alec had been subjected to. Tears of helpless rage stung behind his own eyes as he stroked Alec’s hair, murmuring softly to him in Aurënfaie.
    Coming to the end of his tale, Alec rested his head wearily on Seregil’s shoulder and drew another shuddering breath. “The worst of it—When Ashnazai killed you, tricked me into thinking he had—he said things—” Alec squeezed his eyes shut. “I thought you died believing I’d betrayed you.”
    Seregil stroked a strand of hair back from Alec’s forehead and kissed him there. “It’s all right,
talí
. If it had really been me, I wouldn’t have believed him. I know you too well for that.”
    “And I never told you—” Alec’s pale face flushed crimson. “I don’t understand it, but I—”
    He faltered and Seregil pulled him closer. “I know,
talí
. I know.”
    It was Alec who brought their lips together.
    Seregil’s first reaction was disbelief. But Alec was insistent, clumsy but determined. It lasted an instant, an eternity, that one awkward kiss, and it spoke silent volumes of bewildered honesty.
    The moment that followed was too fragile for words.
    He’s exhausted, confused. He’s been tortured past the point of endurance
, Seregil warned himself, but for once, the doubts refused to take root.
    Father, brother, friend
.
    Lover
.
    He closed his eyes, knowing that whatever grew up between them, it would be enough.
    Alec was the first to break the silence. Wiping his face on the corner of the cloak, he said, “We’d better keep going. If I fall asleep now I don’t think you’d be able to wake me again. Mardus is on his way.”
    “You’d better get some clothes on.” Seregil stood to pull off his tunic and felt the weight of the black dagger he’d carried inside it.
    “I almost forgot, I’ve been saving this for you.”
    Taking the knife out, Seregil unwrapped the scarf he’d wound around it. He held it a moment, his symbol of both defeat and hope through the long days of their separation. At last he tugged the knotted hank of hair loose from the hilt and let the wind snatch the golden strands from his fingers, scattering them over the rocks and into the sea.

48
A N ARROWING OF P ROXIMITIES
    I rtuk Beshar rode to the front of the column and fell in beside Mardus. Captain Denarii, leader of the land force that had met them upon landing, gave place with a barely concealed shudder.
    Mardus greeted her with a gracious nod. “Good morning, Honored One.”
    “And to you, Lord Mardus. Have