Read Stalking Darkness for Free Online

pattern chalked on the casting-room floor.
    “As ready as I’m likely to be,” Seregil said, sweating in his heavy sheepskins. He carried his pack, snowshoes, and pole to the center of the design and piled them on the floor.
    “These should establish your reputation as a wizard.” Nysander held up a half-dozen short willow rods covered with painted symbols. “When broken, each will produce a different gift for your hosts. But you must be certain to keep this long one with the red band separate from the rest. It contains the translocation spell that will carry you back.”
    Seregil tucked the red wand carefully away in a belt pouch, then slipped the others inside the white Aurënfaie tunic he wore beneath his heavy coat.
    “These are the most crucial items, however,” the wizard continued, stepping to a nearby table. On it sat a wooden box two feet square and fitted with a leather shoulder strap and a strong catch. It was lined with sheets of silver engraved with magical symbols and contained two flasks wrapped in fleece.
    Seregil frowned. “What if this crown or whatever it is that I’m after is too big to fit inside?”
    “Do the best you can and return to me at once.”
    Seregil lifted the flasks. They were heavy, and the wax seals covering the corks were also inscribed with more symbols. “And these?”
    “Pour the contents around the crown and inscribe the signs of the Four within the circle. It should weaken any wards protecting it.”
    A nasty twinge of uncertainty shot through Seregil’s innards. “Should?”
    Nysander wrapped the flasks carefully in the fleece and shut them in the box. “You survived the magic of the disk with no assistance. This should be sufficient.”
    “Ah, I see.” Seregil glanced doubtfully at his old friend. “You believe the same inner flaw that kept me from becoming a wizard protects me from magic as well.”
    “It seems to be the case. I only wish it did not cause you such distress with translocations. Considering the distance involved in—”
    “Let’s just get it over with.” Seregil gathered his gear in his arms as best he could. “The Asheks are far enough west that I should have a few hours of light left, but I’d rather not press my luck.”
    “Very well. I have done a sighting and should be able to send you to within a few miles of a village. It will be safest to drop you on the glacier itself, rather than risk hitting the rocky outcroppings along the edge.”
    “That’s
very comforting. Thanks so much!”
    Ignoring the sarcasm, Nysander placed his fingertips together in front of his face and began the incantation. After a moment a particle of darkness winked into being within the cage of his fingers. Spreading his hands slowly, he coaxed it larger until it spun like a dark mirror in front of them.
    Seregil stared into it for a moment, already queasy. Tightening his grip on his snowshoes, he took a resolute breath, closed his eyes, and stepped forward.
    The whirling blast of vertigo was worse than he’d feared. For most people, a translocation was as simple as stepping from one room to another. To Seregil, however, it was like being sucked down in some vile black whirlpool.
    It seemed to go on endlessly this time, buffeting him with darkness. Then, just as suddenly, he tumbled out into frigid brightness and sank up to his hips in drifted snow.
    Stuck fast, he bent forward and spewed out his scant breakfast. When the spasms were over, he struggled free and crawled away from the steaming mess. Collapsing on his back, one arm over his eyes, he lay very still as the world spun sickeningly. The wind sighed over him, blowing fine ice crystals across his lips. Rolling onto his belly, he retched again, then cleaned his mouth with a handful of snow.
    At least Nysander can aim
, he thought, looking around.
    The glacier hung in a steep valley. At its head a few miles away a pair of high peaks towered above the rest, marking a narrow pass and giving the valley the