Alright, Hi! Thanks for taking a look at my first Abhorsen fic. It's not complete, there'll be more chapters added soon. This is Pre-Sabriel…pre, pre, pre-Sabriel! So there's no spoilers, don't worry. Please be kind and review, I appreciate any feedback and constructive criticism! Oh, and by the way, there isn't a title yet, "The Forging" is simply what I uploaded it as. I hate putting "untitled".
Within one of the many warm hallways that led to the Observatory in the heart of the Glacier, Charter Marks flared into life, providing light to the passing Clayr. One of them, many summers younger than the other, was confused and questioning.
"I simply do not understand. We have tried to See events with larger Watches before, and we all know that they do not work!" She was unsure of who called this larger Watch, and did not want to get herself into trouble for speaking this way, but she was simply unable to keep her thoughts to herself.
The elder Clayr silenced the younger with a sharp look as they passed a sending, who opened a large door and bowed deeply before vanishing back into the wall.
"We are not attempting to See an event, as you well know." The elder Clayr hissed. "With the trouble the Abhorsen and the Abhorsen-in-waiting have been having, we are supposed to See an item."
The elder Clayr muttered as the younger Clayr brushed passed her into the large round Observatory with the others, "And we are to try to See the one to forge it."
Being the last of three children was never a good thing. Especially when the first born of your family was heir to the throne, and the second born was an adept Charter Mage. Nathaniel admitted that he himself was a rather good Charter Mage, but he wasn't as talkative about his own skill as his stuck-up sister was about hers. Faralie had just taken an appointment as the Head Magistrix at the Academy of Belisaere, a position that was loudly discussed in the palace, much of it by Faralie herself.
Henreid, Nathaniel's gallant, but distant, older brother, was always busy with the Kingdom's events and happenings. Several years older than his siblings, he did not have much to do with them, except at Royal banquets, and other, important formal occasions. Nathaniel understood. If he had a brother that was close to 12 years younger than him, they wouldn't do much together, either.
Their mother, the Queen, was kept away and busy, constantly dealing with domestic and foreign affairs. Their father, a Charter adept, was also kept busy, engaged with recasting of old or broken spells. To Nathaniel, he always seemed to have time to hear Faralie's stories of her achievements, but never a moment for a brief discussion with his youngest son.
Nathaniel sighed and brought his feet down off of his desk with a thump. The desk was littered with bits of wire and stray Charter Marks, and a few clung to his sock and they landed on the floor with a "tink" sound. Nathaniel enjoyed constructing things. Sometimes, they were even useful. One of his creations stared at him from atop the shelf across the room. A small creature that resembled a lizard, it flicked it's tail in disgust at not being paid attention to. Tiny Charter Marks glittered on it. Quick as a wink, it scurried down the shelf, and scampered to the desk and began to lick up the Charter Marks that shimmered on the floor. It's sole purpose was to digest the Charter Marks that often ended up left on the ground or desk when Nathaniel completed what he was making. A few years before, the Charter Marks that were left over from the creation of an incendiary tool that could be used for lighting the furnace or wood stove had remained on the floor until Nathaniel had stepped on a mark that, upon a touch, conjured flame. Needless to say, the little lizard was created shortly after the burns on Nathaniel's foot had begun to heal.
Nathaniel brushed away a few bits of metal and wire and put his head down on the desk. He was almost dozing off, envisioning the next thing that he would make, perhaps a brother lizard creature, one to eat the pieces of metal when he was done. His reverie was interrupted when there came a sharp rapping at the door. Nathaniel lifted his head and questioned blearily "Yes?"
One of the Royal Messengers bustled in, and bowing curtly, told him that his mother ("Her Royal Majesty Queen Lorileth" the messenger said with a slight flourish and bow) requested his presence in the Royal Chambers. Nathaniel hadn't even known that his mother was returned from one of her many conferences abroad. He stood up and followed the messenger out of his room and up the stairs. If the messenger had come directly from the Chambers to fetch him, he had quite a long trek. Many stairs, and across vast halls. The doorward sendings at the Chamber's entrance bowed at the approaching Prince and opened the large, Charter Marked, wooden doors. Nathaniel nodded to them as he passed and the first face he saw upon entering the Royal Chambers was not that of his mother, but that of his sister's. Groaning inwardly, he watched as she shook her silvery blonde hair back off her shoulders and sit up a little straighter as he came in. She seemed to peer down at him, though she was sitting, and he was standing a little more than six feet tall. "Hello, Nate. How are you?" Nathaniel almost groaned out loud. The proper thing to do would be to answer her and to ask how she was. This would lead to a very long and irritating speech about her latest accomplishments, none of which Nathaniel cared very much about. Before Nathaniel could even decide whether or not to respond, his mother crossed the room with Henreid. "Nathaniel," His mother, still in her travelling clothes came forward to embrace him. He hugged her back, relieved that she was home. "We have received some terrible news." Nathaniel held his mother at arms length and looked at her closely. She had tears in her eyes. Nathaniel had never seen his mother cry.
"What happened? What is it?" Nathaniel was alarmed to see tears, and was close to panicking. Henreid came forward and bowed his head. "Mosaibe has been killed. The numbers of the Dead have been growing, and Tirylese fears that a Greater Dead spirit has returned."
"How - ? Mosaibe has been here forever!" Nathaniel was shocked to hear of the death of the Abhorsen. Mosaibe had been Abhorsen since before Nathaniel was born. Tirylese had been the Abhorsen-in-waiting since Nathaniel was 13. "How is this possible? How did it happen?" Nathaniel plopped down onto a chair beside Faralie.
"His sword. It was shattered, the Charter spells on it were overcome, and it broke." Henreid told him. "The Dead were too many, and the Abhorsen had no time to re-spell his blade in between attacks."
"But what about his bells? Did he not have them?" Faralie was astounded.
"Kibeth was cracked, and Saraneth was missing. Mosaibe's left hand was hewed off. One can only assume that Saraneth was in it." The Queen said.
The Royal family was silent for a time while they considered this.
"Where was Tirylese?"
"She was no more than a few leagues away, but arrived too late. She made the Dead army walk with her bells, but the damage had already been done."
Henreid, with a louder voice, continued, as if to try to bolster confidence and dispel any ill feelings, to get down to business, "These larger armies will need to be dealt with, immediately. We have many Mages, all who will be willing to fight. Shall we dispatch them, to aid the new Abhorsen, Mother?"
"We do have many Mages, son, but they don't have bells, or even pipes. We don't even have enough Charter spelled blades to arm them with." The Queen was dismayed. "I don't see how this will help. We cannot send them out unarmed, especially once they've heard of the Abhorsen's death. They will be frightened, and it would not be fair to ask them to do this." She sighed.
"We have many Mages, why could they not be used here in the city to spell the blades for those who go out to aid the new Abhorsen?" Faralie put in.
Queen Lorileth smiled. "Perhaps. How many Charter Mages will spend hours working on one blade?"
"If we have many Mages, it will not be a terribly long job." Faralie puffed up self importantly and declared that she would begin by spelling all of the swords and daggers, and that anyone who wished to join her or have her tutelage was more than welcome. The Queen turned to Henreid. "How many swords do we have in our armouries?"
"Not many, I'm afraid, but I could order the blacksmiths forge only blades."
Nathaniel, silent until now, shouted, "No!" His mother, startled, said "Alright, Nathaniel, you may go to the blacksmiths, I'll need Henreid here…"
Nathaniel overrode her. "Let me make one."
Faralie's jaw dropped. "You? We know that you're pretty good at constructing things, but leave the swords to the blacksmiths. They know what they're doing."
Nathaniel ignored her, and pleaded with his mother. "I have an idea. If I can make it work… Just give me 36 hours. Today, tonight and tomorrow. After that, if it doesn't work, I'll go to the blacksmith's myself. Just until sunset tomorrow. Please let me try!"
Hearing the urgency in her son's voice, Queen Lorileth reluctantly agreed to 36 hours, much to Henreid's puzzlement and Faralie's dismay. Nathaniel dashed from the Royal Chamber and ran at full speed back to his workshop.