Stalking Darkness - Chapters Forty-One and Forty-Two

[kalinara]

So last time, we saw Beka being awesome. This time, we're back with Alec. And yes, the content warnings still apply.



There's something about Alec's side of the plot that reminds me a bit of Maggie's storyline in the Golden Queen. Namely, we have a story that, until now, has been a fairly straightforward adventure story. And now, for one main character, and one main character only, it's become a truly horrific, violating, torturous experience.

Now, don't get me wrong, I think Flewelling is a much better author than Wolverton was. At least in that book. While the tone shift is a bit jarring, we're at least not suffering a juxtaposition with another character having a grand old time.

Seregil, at least, seems to be pretty fucking worried about his student/eventual boyfriend, and isn't having a great time himself. It's not AS bad. But it is notable. Especially if my half-remembered recollection about the end is accurate. But we'll cross that bridge when we get there.

Anyway, let's get back to Alec here. Alec is having a very bad time.

Apparently the guards are now very careful with him - they've learned from the sexual harasser last time. But they clearly blame him too. Because it's always the fault of the naked prisoner when an abuser decides to take advantage.

(I'm not saying the response is unrealistic though...)

Ashnazai is still torturing him: waking him up out of a sound sleep to "plunge[d] him into another punishing miasma of torment".

Rather understandably, Alec's not doing so well. Between the badness and the weird creepy nightmares about headless arrows (damn, prophecies are inconvenient), and the inability to escape, he's fallen into a despondent state. It's bad enough that he's starting to look forward to Mardus's company.

Which goes like this:

At midmorning each day Alec was given a cloak and escorted above under guard. Fair weather or foul, Mardus would be waiting for him, ready to hold forth on whatever subject had taken his fancy that day. To Alec’s considerable surprise, Mardus was a remarkably intelligent, well-spoken man, with interests as broad and varied as Seregil’s. He was as likely to launch into a discussion of Plenimaran war tactics or a detailed comparison of Plenimaran and Skalan musical conventions, although his discourses often took a darker turn.

“Torture is an undervalued art form,” he remarked as they strolled up and down with Vargul Ashnazai one brisk morning. “Most people assume that if you cause enough pain you will achieve your end. While this may be true in some cases, I’ve always found that outright brutality is often counterproductive. Consider your own recent experience, Alec. Without drawing so much as a drop of blood, we were able to extract every scrap of information from you.”

Ashnazai and Mardus toss some banter back and forth about necromancy as a torture method, then Mardus describes what he'd do:

Mardus clasped his hands behind him, considering the question as coolly as if Ashnazai had asked what he thought the price of grain would be this year. “I often begin with the genitals. While the blood loss is negligible, the pain and emotional anguish are exquisite. Once that level of pain is established, the prisoner is usually quite easy to manipulate. In Alec’s case, I could leave him still fit for the slave markets. Only a fool would destroy such a pretty creature unnecessarily.”

Ew.

The thing is, after torture and sleep deprivation and mind-fuckery, Alec's getting a little suggestable. He doesn't BELIEVE what Mardus keeps saying about Seregil, but it's getting harder:

“He didn’t abandon me. He didn’t!” he whispered into the darkness one night when his spirits were at their lowest. He forced himself to recall his friend’s grin when Alec had mastered a new skill, the delight Seregil took in tormenting Thero, the grip of Seregil’s hand when he’d pulled him back from the edge of the cliff after the ambush below Cirna.

And the way he’d looked that night at the Street of Lights. Alec suddenly remembered the guilty pleasure he’d felt that evening, and later at the casual touch of Seregil’s hand resting on his shoulder or the back of his neck. His cheeks went warm now at the memory of that touch. It was too painful to think of, now that he’d never feel it again. “Stop it!” he hissed aloud. “He could come. He could be following right now!” But not even Micum could track a ship across water.

Poor kid.

But it does have an effect. He ends up dreaming of Seregil and it sparks some energy and wherewithal in Alec, he starts drawing on his training and gathering information. After all, "he wouldn't die any faster for at least trying"

Good kid.

The guards don't talk much, but Alec's able to learn they're making for a point on the northwestern coast of Plenimar. He's even able to talk more with Mardus. They discuss archery and the visits happen more frequently.

But then things go bad again: Alec's brought back on deck and the sacrificial ritual space is set up. Alec immediately assumes the questioning went wrong. But no, this is just more "preparation". They're doing it because Plenimar is in sight.

So, how bad is it...

As Alec watched with mounting dread, ten men and women were dragged up on deck by the black-clad marines.

This was the source of the weeping he heard in the night. This had all been planned in advance, the sacrificial victims packed away in the hold as carefully as the wine and oil and flour.

They were not soldiers, but thin, pale, ordinary-looking souls who blinked and wept as they were herded together near the rail. Most were ragged or dressed as laborers, just innocent victims, he guessed, plucked from the darkened streets of whatever ports the ship had put into before Rhiminee.

“O Illior,” Alec whispered as Mardus came to stand beside him, hardly knowing that he spoke aloud. “No, please. Not this.”

Pretty bad.

And Mardus drops his mask a bit too:

Mardus slipped an arm around his shoulders and closed his hand over the back of Alec’s neck. Giving him a playful shake, he purred, “Ah, but you should savor it. Don’t you understand yet how great a part you played in bringing this about?”

Faint with revulsion, Alec made the mistake of looking up at Mardus. For the first time he saw the depths of naked cruelty in his eyes, and in that awful moment he knew as certainly as he’d ever known anything that Mardus had purposefully allowed him to see behind the mask, was delighting in his fear and confusion, savoring it the way another man might savor the first caress of a long-desired lover. And perhaps worse even than this was the conviction that Mardus was nonetheless sane.

Poor Alec tries to run, throw himself overboard. But Ashnazai catches him right away. They force him into position to watch. The dyrmagos is there too. As is poor Thero, also restrained, also crying tears of rage and impotence. Alec thinks it's like seeing a statue weep. But it gives him hope too.

Now though, Alec isn't taken to his usual cell. He's forcibly washed, dressed in a robe and led to a spacious cabin. Mardus, Ashnazai, Thero, Irtuk Beshar (the dyrmagos) and a silent necromancer are there. Mardus is, of course, remarkably civil, as though nothing happened.

He, and Thero, are given wine to drink. Poor Thero lets the wine dribble into his beard, something that makes Alec feel guilty - like he saw something unseemly.

Everything is very surreal, which lets Alec draw on his etiquette training and very politely refuse the wine. He also takes the opportunity to ask what this is all about. He knows they're going to kill him, so he wants to understand.

Here's where Alec finds out something that I don't think has come up before:

Mardus raised his cup to Alec in a mocking salute. “You can’t imagine the trouble you saved us, bringing so many parts of the Helm together for us to reclaim with a single brief stroke. Not to mention the damage we were able to inflict upon the Oreska in the process. Why, in one night we managed to accomplish what might otherwise have taken months, even years. And we do not have years, or even weeks, now.”

All the pieces: the bowl, the disk and crown are all part of a "helm". "The Great Helm of Seiamaius", a fucking major artifact of necromantic power. Whoever wears it becomes "Vatharna", the living embodiment of the god.

Alec connects this to the legends of the Great War and all the undead armies. Mardus adds to the backstory: at the end, the Plenimarians were betrayed and the Oreskan wizards, with the help of Aurenfaie wizards, drysians, and some traitors from the Plenimarian side (something I'm glad to see mentioned. It's very common in fantasy to have one side be universally evil...), seized the helm and broke it. They hid the pieces.

SO yeah, now the bad guys have it again. The sacrifices are important - meant to power the Helm. Alec and Thero are being kept for the final sacrifice. Apparently the blood is only symbolic - representing the life force given to the gods. Younger victims mean more years taken.

They've never said exactly how old Thero was, but he's very clearly younger than Seregil's fifty-eight. He definitely counts as a "young Oreska Wizard." And as we've been told, half-faie live about as long as regular faie. So Alec and Thero have a LOT of years to give.

So...

Alec regarded them a moment in stunned silence, trying to take it all in. No, he thought numbly. No, I will not be apart of that. “Thank you,” he said finally. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

There were no guards in the room now. No spells or chains held him. Forcing himself to give no leading hint of his intentions, Alec suddenly lashed out across the table and snatched up a carving knife lying next to the platter of fowl. Clutching it in both hands, he drove the blade at his own ribs, praying for a quick kill.

To his horror and astonishment, however, he twisted around instead and plunged the blade into the chest of the young servant. The boy let out a single startled cry and collapsed.

Oof. Poor kid. Poor Alec. Mardus just chides him, asking where his manners are. The dyrmagos taunts him, explaining that she knows him "intimately" and has placed a binding on him - any time he tries to hurt himself, he'll hurt someone else instead.

Mardus adds insult to injury, explaining that both Alec and Thero aren't actually necessary for the final plan. Having just one, will be fine. It just entertains him to have Alec be the last: watching the others die and being helpless, and then dying, knowing that his life is bringing the Helm into being.

It's an affective taunt. And thus the chapter ends.

--

Well that was intense. Let's go with a slightly less horrifying palate cleanser.

We're back with Seregil, who wakes up from his nightmare of drowning. Micum's on deck, so there's nothing to distract Seregil from his worries about Alec.

Aw. I wonder if anyone is worried about Thero the way Seregil is about Alec. I hope so.

Anyway, he goes on deck to see that Plenimar is now in sight. Micum notes how bad Seregil looks and tries some comforting reassurance, suggesting that Nysander might make something of the dream when he gets there. Seregil seems pretty listless though, now wondering if Nysander will get there at all.

Then he notices that Seregil's bleeding - at that scar where the Eye left its mark. They realize too that the comet, Rendel's Spear, wil be in the sky tonight. Eek.

One thing that's interesting is that Micum hasn't had dreams or premonitions. He's the only one of the named four who hasn't. Interesting!

The coast is rough, which makes it a bit of a trick to get the guys to shore. But there's a boat, with supplies, that Rhal's packed himself. Nice. He wishes them luck.

So Micum and Seregil sail the boat, looking for a landing site. Micum even notes that Plenimar is a nice looking country. Eventually, they spot a campfire in the shadow of a cove. They go to investigate and...

A branch snapped in the forest and he crouched, bracing for ambush. A tall, spare figure stepped from the trees.

“Here you are at last, dear boy,” a familiar voice greeted him in Skalan.

“Nysander?” Still wary, Seregil remained where he was as the wizard pushed back his hood. Dressed for traveling, Nysander wore an old surcoat and loose breeches, and his faded cloak was held at the throat with the worn bronze brooch he always used.

As he came forward into the light, Seregil let out a startled gasp. Even in the ruddy light of sunset, Nysander looked ghostly. His face was the color of bone and more deeply lined than ever. Worse yet, he looked shrunken in on himself, diminished, like the gnarled caricature of an old man carved in fresh ivory. Only his bright eyes and the familiar warmth in his voice seemed to have come back to him intact.

Okay, I might be MOSTLY glad to see you, Nysander. There's hugging and joy. Seregil asks if he knows anything about Alec and Nysander is as useful as all sorcerer mentors on this blog:

“No, but you must not despair,” Nysander told him, patting his shoulder kindly. “If he were dead, I would know it. The force of the prophecy is binding us closer with every passing day.”

Helpful. Thanks.

But Nysander's optimism seems to be reassuring. Seregil ends up discussing the dream. The lack of memory is bothersome, but Nysander can't pull more of it out of him. He needs to conserve strength and magic. I won't mock him for that. Dude is convalescing.

But he does have more information:

“As Seregil has told you, there is a prophecy which names four persons, the Guardian, the Shaft, the Vanguard, and the Guide. I am the Guardian, and have been since the days of my apprenticeship with Arkoniel. What we have guarded, there below the Oreska House, was a fragment of a necromantic object called the Helm of Seriamaius.”

“The bowl,” Seregil interjected. Nysander glanced at him in surprise. “How on earth did you learn that?”

“More visions,” said Micum, tossing wood on the fire. The sun was disappearing into the western sea, leaving the stars spread like a diamond veil above them.

I know Alec has decided that Nysander was vindicated for keeping secrets, based on the whole "all the info got tortured out of him" thing. But I still think Nysander was a dick about it.

Micum doesn't really see how the pieces fit together as a Helm, but we're told that the appearances hide the true form. Fair enough.

This is a bit repetitive with what we learned in Alec's chapter. But the backstory gets a bit more detail. And we learn about the role of the Guardian, who kept the artifacts safe and secret.

There's a good moment here that probably would have done everyone a lot of good if Nysander had said this years ago:

“Did Thero know?” asked Seregil.

“No, he was not ready for such knowledge.” Nysander rested a hand on Seregil’s shoulder. “Part of my grief in losing you as an apprentice was the knowledge that you would have been such a worthy successor. From the day I took you on, I knew in my heart that you were capable of assuming the burden. When you could not learn the magic, I was devastated. But now I see that I was not mistaken about your worthiness, only about the role which you were destined to play. What you learned after leaving me, the life you went on to, it all prepared you to be the Unseen One.”

MAYBE the sibling rivalry wouldn't have been quite so bad?

ALso, poor Thero. He's definitely suffering now for what he doesn't know. I suppose Nysander isn't the sort to say outloud that he's worried about his apprentice, but I hope he is. Thero deserves that much.

Anyway, more prophecy:

‘And so came the Beautiful One, the Eater of Death, to strip the bones of the world. First clothed in Man’s flesh it came, crowned with a dread helm of great darkness. And none could stand against this One but a company of sacred number. First shall be the Guardian, a vessel of light in the darkness. Then the Shaft and the Vanguard, who shall fail and yet not fail if the Guide, the Unseen One, goes forth.’

Anyway, in the end, Nysander has both Micum and Seregil swear on life and honor to strike whatever blow is necessary to destroy the power of the Helm. They do.

The chapter ends with Rendel's Spear appearing in the sky. Apparently, necromancers call it "the Arm of Seriamaius."

That's reassuring!