Stalking Darkness

stripped, and tied to the posts! With Irtuk Beshar chanting tonelessly behind him, Mardus drew his dagger and slit their throats in quick succession. They died quickly, these first ones, their blood flowing down to stain the swirling waters of the salt pool.
    As the last sliver of sun narrowed to an edge, a raucous clatter suddenly came from all sides. An immense flock of ravens appeared out of the surrounding gloom, croaking and sawing in a cloud of black wings as they settled on tree and ledge and post top. At the same moment, crabs of every size and color came boiling up out of the water. Sidling up the rocks, they swarmed over the piles of dead animals and the corpses, feeding greedily.
    Cries of terror burst out among the remaining prisoners. Tildus barked orders and the torchbearers lit their brands at the brazier. The whole ghastly scene leapt into sharper relief.
    No one, not even the dyrmagnos, noticed when the three guards stationed on the northern promontory were jerked back out of sight. Any sound they may have made was lost in the general outcry below.
    Carrion eaters. Eaters of the dead
, thought Seregil as he, Alec, and Micum shoved the men they’d just killed into the undergrowth behind them. The black stripes across their faces gave them all a deadly, feral look as they belly-crawled back to the edge of the overlook where Nysander was keeping watch.
    The moon overtook the last curve of the sun and a hazy corona burst out around it. The black disk hung framed in light, like a baleful, glaring eye. The burning arc of the plague star, visible now in the darkened sky, glowed just below it.
    With every surge of the surf, water foamed into the stone hollow at Irtuk Beshar’s feet.
    The dead men were cut from the posts and thrown onto theoffal pile. Ten women took their places and Mardus’ knife flashed again, severing their cries.
    Seregil winced. It was agonizing to watch and not act. Beside him, Alec clenched his hands around his bow, eyes wide with horror.
    “How can we just lay here and watch them die?” he hissed.
    Nysander was on Alec’s other side and Seregil saw him close a hand over Alec’s. “Think of how many will die if we fail,” the wizard reminded him. “Be strong, my boy. Let nothing distract you.”
    Raising her hands toward the sky, Irtuk Beshur began to chant again, her cracked, dry voice loud above the rush of the sea. More victims were dragged forward to the edge of the pool and beheaded by swordsmen, who then held the bodies so that the blood still pumping from the severed necks fell into the water.
    Mardus opened the chest and lifted out the crystal crown. Taking it from him, Beshar held it up to the sky a moment, then cast it into the surging waters of the pool. Next came a plain iron hoop, then the crude clay bowl.
    “It is almost time,” whispered Nysander.
    Seregil gripped Alec’s arm. “Shoot true,
talí.”
    Alec pressed a white-fletched arrow to his lips. “I will,
talí,”
he whispered back, blue eyes glinting fiercely under the black paint.
    Holding that image in his heart, Seregil hurried away after the others.
    Alec gripped the arrow in his fist, feeling the power in it. The sound of the sea now was the sound from his nightmares, but this time the arrow had a head.
    Looking down, he saw the dyrmagnos scatter the handful of wooden disks into the water. As the last one sank from sight the face of the pool went still and glassy. The tide still surged and thundered to its edge, but the power of the dyrmagnos kept any more water from flowing into the pool, which was now full. Like a dark mirror, it reflected the black eye of the sun.
    The dyrmagnos raised her hands above it and began a new chant. A man was brought forward and thrown down on his back at her feet. Soldiers held him by the hands and feet and Harid Yordun came forward with the black ax.
    Alec wanted desperately not to watch as he hacked the man’s chest open, but he knew he must not look away for an instant.
    Harid cut out the heart and threw it into the water. Quick, skirling ripples appeared and faded on its glassy surface as if a flock of swallows had darted past. Another heart was thrown in, and the ripples reappeared, more numerous this time.
    Alec felt a silent tremor roll through the stone he was lying on. It came again as the ax rose and fell, growing to a steady rhythm like the pounding of a labored heart.
    The pool went black and dull as tar. Tendrils of mist rose from it, and with them