Disclaimer: On purchase of his Books Garth Nix asserts the moral right to
be the author of the work and so he is. He owns the fictional world and its
characters. This is a fanfic just like all the others. I did invent the
characters not mentioned in any of his books though.
The Tavern was bright and welcoming beside her, the sound of raucous laughter and good times being had echoed through the night. The merriment inside the glowing room was not being transferred to the night outside. It was dark and cold; a frail breeze drove through the fog that came swirling off the river about half a mile to the Taverns left.
Lirael was waiting with great apprehension. She knew the stilken must come this way; it had been following her, it would have to come towards her. She was wishing and hoping that the damn creature would arrive. It was a cold night by the river and very dark, the moon was a slither of pearly white and the stars were veiled with mist. She could feel something, it was coming this way, and only it didn't feel like free magic, it was dead. Lirael was ready though Saraneth in one hand and her knew charter sword in the other. Now she could see it, a mordicant, it was bounding towards her covering ground with impossible speed. She readied herself standing right and firm getting ready to use both sword and bell, her mind opening up her memorised version of the book of the dead and quickly thinking of the best way to kill such a powerful undead. Just as the mordicant was about to strike Lirael started to get a sickening feeling in her stomach, the stilken was closing in too. She began parrying blows from the mordicant its undead flesh ripping as it hit the singing steel, marks running over the blade. She turned quickly to parry a blow by her head, but just as she did she could feel the sickening bile rising into her throat. The stilken appeared out of the mist. It began to run towards Lirael, but someone got in its way, Lirael was too occupied to see whom. Sparks erupted from the stilken, its arms flailing wildly, as it attacked this new threat. Lirael couldn't see who the person was, but they must have been either very brave or very foolish to take on a stilken by themselves. The mordicant was being beaten back despite Lirael's distraction at the newcomer. She thrust the sword into the creature one last time, making sparks jump away and dance on the cobbled street as she switched bells; she needed Kibeth to make the mordicant walk back beyond the final gate. The clear voice of an Abhorsens bell broke the stillness of the night for miles around; the clarity of the marching tune sang a pure song. The two creatures cried out trying to get away from the sound, the inevitability of being controlled, being bound to walk beyond the ninth gate. Lirael had directed her will at the mordicant which, with its body mangled quickly returned to death. With her foe now gone Lirael stopped to look at the stilken. The man (for she could make out that much) who was battling the stilken was barely visible between the fountains of sparks that raged around him. It was obvious that he was beating the creature and by the time Lirael had drawn Saraneth the stilken was nothing but a dark liquidy mass squirming on the ground, he had used a binding spell to break its body, she still rang Saraneth making the liquid squirm even harder before disappearing entirely.
The Tavern was bright and welcoming beside her, the sound of raucous laughter and good times being had echoed through the night. The merriment inside the glowing room was not being transferred to the night outside. It was dark and cold; a frail breeze drove through the fog that came swirling off the river about half a mile to the Taverns left.
Lirael was waiting with great apprehension. She knew the stilken must come this way; it had been following her, it would have to come towards her. She was wishing and hoping that the damn creature would arrive. It was a cold night by the river and very dark, the moon was a slither of pearly white and the stars were veiled with mist. She could feel something, it was coming this way, and only it didn't feel like free magic, it was dead. Lirael was ready though Saraneth in one hand and her knew charter sword in the other. Now she could see it, a mordicant, it was bounding towards her covering ground with impossible speed. She readied herself standing right and firm getting ready to use both sword and bell, her mind opening up her memorised version of the book of the dead and quickly thinking of the best way to kill such a powerful undead. Just as the mordicant was about to strike Lirael started to get a sickening feeling in her stomach, the stilken was closing in too. She began parrying blows from the mordicant its undead flesh ripping as it hit the singing steel, marks running over the blade. She turned quickly to parry a blow by her head, but just as she did she could feel the sickening bile rising into her throat. The stilken appeared out of the mist. It began to run towards Lirael, but someone got in its way, Lirael was too occupied to see whom. Sparks erupted from the stilken, its arms flailing wildly, as it attacked this new threat. Lirael couldn't see who the person was, but they must have been either very brave or very foolish to take on a stilken by themselves. The mordicant was being beaten back despite Lirael's distraction at the newcomer. She thrust the sword into the creature one last time, making sparks jump away and dance on the cobbled street as she switched bells; she needed Kibeth to make the mordicant walk back beyond the final gate. The clear voice of an Abhorsens bell broke the stillness of the night for miles around; the clarity of the marching tune sang a pure song. The two creatures cried out trying to get away from the sound, the inevitability of being controlled, being bound to walk beyond the ninth gate. Lirael had directed her will at the mordicant which, with its body mangled quickly returned to death. With her foe now gone Lirael stopped to look at the stilken. The man (for she could make out that much) who was battling the stilken was barely visible between the fountains of sparks that raged around him. It was obvious that he was beating the creature and by the time Lirael had drawn Saraneth the stilken was nothing but a dark liquidy mass squirming on the ground, he had used a binding spell to break its body, she still rang Saraneth making the liquid squirm even harder before disappearing entirely.