"Not to worry," Nysander assured him. "I shall only need a short rest, and then we can follow. I agree with Seregil; there is no time to lose."
"It's settled," Seregil said, setting off again before Micum could protest.
A quarter of a mile farther on a broad cove cut into the shoreline like a bite from a slice of bread. An expanse of smooth ledge several hundred feet wide sloped gently up to the base of steeper layers of sea-weathered granite that embraced the cove like ruined battlements. Gulls picked their way through the rock pools and seaweed near the water's edge, spying out a meal left behind by the tide. It was a rather pretty place, Seregil thought, climbing up the rocks to stay near the edge of the forest.
Looking through the trees, he saw that the disused road curved to follow the upper ledges. He was just wondering if he should follow it for a while when something white caught his eye in the edge of the undergrowth across the cove.
Clambering over rocks and fallen trees, he braced for another disappointment; an equally promising flash earlier that morning had turned out to be the shoulder blade of an elk. Another had been nothing more than sunlight striking a spring-fed pool. As he came closer, however, he saw that it was a boulder of milky white stone nearly four feet high.
Dropping his pack, he pushed his way through the thicket of leafless bushes and dead fern that partially obscured it.
It was real-a great chunk of white quartz that had no business being in this type of country. He circled it, looking for carvings or marks, then reached down through the dry bracken until his fingers found a small, smooth stone. Pulling it out, he saw that it was a piece of polished black basalt the size and shape of a goose egg. Digging in farther, he found more of the black stones, as well as a tiny clay figure of a woman and an ornament of carved shell.
Clutching his finds, Seregil bounded back the way he'd come until he saw Micum and 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 found these, 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 was filled with the same sort of carvings.
"What are they?" asked Micum.
Nysander's pale face lit up with excitement as he studied the whorls, circles, and cross-hatching that formed the patterns. "Such carvings have been found all round the inner seas, but no one has ever deciphered them. Like that stone up there, they were placed here before our kind arrived."
"Another sacred spot," Seregil said, sitting up. "I found the crown in a cave the Dravnians called a spirit chamber. I felt their spirit after I'd gotten the crown. Micum, you remember that underground chamber you found in the Fens?"
"Of course." Micum grimaced, recalling the scene of slaughter.
"You said there was an altar stone of some sort there," Nysander said, exchanging an excited glance with Seregil. "That chamber could have been some sort of holy place, too, before the wooden disks were hidden there." He waved a hand at the carvings they'd found.
"And now this place, this ancient temple site. All this suggests that the necromancers use the power of such places to enhance their own magic. Assuming that this is the case, then there must be some significance in Mardus' choice of this rather obscure location."
"I was just thinking the same thing," Seregil said, sighting down the right-hand fissure. Waves surged up the cleft with the gentle heave of the tide, churning up white foam as they lifted the seaweed. After a moment he began pulling off his boots.