"That traitorous bastard?" Seregil's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Stop it, Seregil!" Nysander ordered, finally giving rein to his own anger. It flashed across his face, startling as lightning from a clear sky.
"Whatever Thero's past actions may have been, it would appear that he used his own magic to aid Alec's escape, quite possibly at the expense of his own life. Alec is alone. This has brought him closer to us than losing either of you would have. If Mardus' scouts have reached us already, then the man himself cannot be far behind."
Seregil opened his mouth to protest but Micum spoke first. "I don't like it either, but he's right and we both know it," he said grudgingly.
"Well, what about now, then?" demanded Seregil, still boiling. "We can't just sit here hoping he finds us by sheer luck! Bilairy's Balls, Nysander, if you're so certain of where he is, magick him in!"
"You know I cannot expend that kind of power now. However, I was able to send a summoning and place some protections around him, as well. Mardus will not find him by magic."
Seregil reached for his boots and sword belt.
"But you knew about him last night," Micum said, frowning. "How did you do that, if not with magic?"
"I did nothing. The knowledge simply came to me."
"Then why don't Micum and I sense him?"
Seregil demanded.
"Who knows? Go to him now; help him. He is coming from the south."
"Ah, that's one of my titles, isn't it? The Guide?" Seregil growled, grabbing up a water skin and pushing out through the branches.
Micum moved to follow, but Nysander laid a hand on his arm. "Let him go."
Seregil's anger quickly gave way to cautious joy as he loped along over the rocks. During the long days on the Lady, hope had dwindled to a stubborn refusal to imagine the worst. Now it seemed Nysander's faith in the prophecy had been proven. Against all odds, the four of them were being brought together again on this hostile shore.
The tide had just turned past low, leaving tide pools and treacherous masses of bladder wrack gleaming in the morning sun. Great green swells rolled in from the open sea, wave upon wave smashing to geysers of glistening spume against the rocks. A freshening wind off the water carried the spray up the shore; Seregil turned his face to it as he stalked along, tasted salt on his lips.
Nothing else mattered. Alec was alive.
He kept one eye on the trees as he went. One patrol had shown up already; there would be others. Within the hour he spied the glint of sunlight off metal.
Taking cover in a rocky cleft, he listened as a group of riders passed at a gallop. From the sound of it, there were at least a dozen of them. Waiting until the last sound of their horses had faded away to the north, he continued on his way.
Another hour passed and he began to worry that they'd somehow missed each other. Alec could have taken refuge, as he had, under an outcropping or in the forest. Or had an accident or been recaptured. Reining in these dark thoughts, Seregil sat down on a damp block of stone to catch his breath.
His arrival dislodged a small nation of striped periwinkles, which clattered and rolled away like a cascade of marbles into the tide pool at his feet. A gull circled down to drink on the opposite side.
"I'll find him," Seregil sighed aloud, resting his head in his hands. "He's here and I'll find him."
The gull regarded him with one skeptical yellow eye, then flapped off with a derisive jeer.
Turning his head to watch it, Seregil froze in disbelief. A wan, battered spector stood looking down at him from a shelf of rock not twenty feet away.
"Alec!"
Thin, bruised, and naked, Alec swayed visibly as the wind buffeted him. Despite his obvious exhaustion, however, he was poised for flight.
"Alec, it's me," Seregil said more gently, watching hope and fear warring in those dark, narrowed eyes. What had put such deep distrust there?
"What's wrong?"
"What are you doing here?" Alec croaked, and the wariness in his voice went through Seregil like a knife.
"Looking for you. Nysander's here, too, and Micum. They're back that way."
"Nysander's dead," Alec said, taking a step backward.
"No, he almost died, but he's alive, I promise you. We know what Mardus is up to now. We were right, Alec. We are the Four-you, me, Nysander, 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? 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 Vargul 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 Aurenfaie.
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, tali. 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, tali. 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."