Stalking Darkness

palms. Her father’s hands bore the same device.
    “First I find you here and now this,” she said, bewildered. “What in Sakor’s name is going on?”
    Micum held his hand next to hers. “So you’re a Vanguard, too. Things have come together in a strange way, Beka. You don’t know the half of it.” He closed his eyes and drew a wheezing breath.
    She pulled open his tunic and laid an ear to his chest. His heart was pounding too hard and his skin was too cold. Looking around for help, she saw Alec and Rhylin hurrying toward her, supporting another man between them. This thin one with his matted black hair and young beard looked vaguely familiar. He’d been wounded, too; the side of his face was bloody and he had a sword cut across his ribs. Nonetheless, his pale green eyes were sharp and alert as he sank down beside Micum.
    “Help him, Thero. There must be something you can do,” Alec pleaded. “I’ve got to find Seregil! Has anyone seen him? Or Nysander?”
    “I am here, dear boy,” a hollow voice replied from the shadowed rocks above them.

50
V ATHARNA
    M ardus crouched opposite Seregil in the uneven basin, the surge of the tide rushing around their ankles. They sloshed through icy water as they circled, vying for possession of the Helm that lay partially submerged between them, the newly awakened glow of the blue eye stones casting a pale phosphorescence up through the water. The blast that had formed it had deepened the shallow basin into a broad pit deeper in places than the height of the two men who fought there. Strewn with bodies, lit only by the dead glow of the eclipse that still stood overhead, it was like a place from a fever dream.
    “I should have killed that whelp of yours when I had the chance,” snarled Mardus.
    “Yes, you should have,” Seregil retorted through gritted teeth, sizing up his opponent. Mardus was not a brawny opponent, but he did have the protection of his cuirass. “You missed Nysander, too, you know. He’s alive and the Four remains unbroken.”
    “Yet you failed all the same,” Mardus gloated, pointing to the Helm with the dagger clutched in his left hand. “I am the
Vatharna
, the Chosen of Seriamaius. Do you think you can stand against me now?”
    “I was chosen, too, you fatherless son of awhore.” Seregil tugged open the neck of his tunic with one hand to show him the reversed symbol pulsing there. “But it’s my people at the Cockerel that I’ll kill you for, and for what you did to Alec. For the runners and keeks you used and betrayed, the innocents who’ve died at your order. Hell, I’ll kill you for the sheer fun of it. Come on, Lord Eater of Shit. Let’s get this over with.”
    He lunged at Mardus and their swords locked in a resounding parry that sent a shock up both their arms. Seregil ducked Mardus’ guard and tried for a stab below his cuirass. He missed his footing and the tip of his blade glanced off metal, but the point cut the man’s left arm and fresh blood spotted the already stained waters of the pool; neither of the combatants had time to notice how the bleary light of the Helm brightened as it rolled in the wash of the tide.
    Fighting for purchase on the broken stone underfoot, Seregil quickly realized that he was overmatched. On better ground his speed would have evened the odds, but trapped here in this watery pit he could only stand firm and fend off the taller man’s bone-jarring swings. Mardus slapped his blade back and nicked Seregil’s left shoulder. Seregil got his guard back up, made a lucky sidestep, and repaid him with a slash across the right forearm.
    For the first time it occurred to Seregil that his role in the prophecy had been fulfilled, that he was expendable now. That he might lose.
    Sensing his doubt, Mardus pressed the advantage and scored a shallow cut across Seregil’s thigh. More blood spotted the water and the Helm, brighter now with this and every death that occurred in the fight that was still raging above them, shone more brightly still.
    It was Mardus who finally noticed the light, understood its significance. Redoubling his attack, he beat Seregil back against the rocks. Pinned off balance in an indefensible position, Seregil decided to take a desperate chance. Springing past Mardus, he dove for the Helm. He hadn’t gotten two steps when his foot lodged in a hidden crevice and he stumbled painfully.
    Mardus struck at his back, slashing him across the ribs. Just as he drew back for the killing