The Final Command A NixFic by the Wallmaker
"You will do as I say."
"So I am bound, Abhorsen." The creature Mogget accompanied him into Death, their ears filled with the peal of Astarael.
Terciel, the fifty-second Abhorsen, compelled to stay in the dark river by the low and sorrowful tones of the seventh bell, handed his sword and the still-vibrating bell to his servant.
The folds of Mogget's robes were whipped about by the water's dreadful current until he seemed to shrink in on himself, blazing whiter and whiter until his magic was blinding, and Terciel was unable to discern robe from Free Magic being. Shining brightly in his familiar cat form, Mogget stretched out and began loping across the top of the dark water back towards Life.
Terciel watched, floating along in the Fifth Presinct, and he hoped that all would go well for his daughter and heir.
Squeezing into Life, Mogget blinked. His shining green cat eyes were able to quickly adjust to the light (or lack thereof) in the dank coolness of the Reservoir, and he was able to see the pieces of the Dead beings floating in the water. His tail twitched and he stood.
"I hate being wet," he said to nobody in particular as he picked his way across the top of the Reservoir's water, ripples extending from his feet. He began to slowly climb the stairs that extended from the water's edge to the outskirts of the once-great city of Belisaere. He took his time; Kerrigor, he knew, was still in Death, probably beyond the Ninth, and it would take him a while to reach a doorway between Life and Death. Mogget casually padded up the steps; haste would come later.
"…You must not reach her long before Kerrigor."
"Yes, Abhorsen."
"You will deliver our sword and the Seventh Bell…"
"I'm hungry," Mogget said. He was in the middle of the Kingdom. In the forest. There was no one around. Hissing at his ill-fortune, he sat down at the first stream he came across. Deftly scooping out a fish after several minutes of statue-like waiting, Mogget had his meal. He peered up at the sky after diligently cleaning his little white feet. The cloud cover to the north was quickly growing, and Mogget knew that Kerrigor was back in Life. Reluctantly getting to his feet, he sighed and gave up his cat form. He shone with brilliant light, and Abhorsen's sword and Astarael were visible again in what served him as hands. With a flash, he vanished, and reappeared a league away. Mogget observed the sky during each of his brief appearances as he travelled south. He watched as the cloud cover grew more thick and pushed its way south.
The clouds were the purplish colour of a fresh bruise and were blotting out the sky as Mogget reached the Wall. The air was thick with the powerful Charter Magic that the Wall was made with as well as the electric tang of unrestrained Free Magic as the Dead, commanded by Kerrigor, rose. Noticing the red-and-gold Paperwing, he sniffed in contempt. Mogget's tall shape cast a shifting shadow on the shimmering Charter Marks that re-inforced the Wall as he moved to the gate. Pushing a particularly malformed Dead Hand out of his way, Mogget ducked through the undefended opening to Ancelstierre and squeezed down into his cat form again.
Leaping up through the no-man's land, Mogget watched for Ancelstierrian soldiers, but there were none. However, there were a few Dead around; fairly strong Hands, and Mogget surmised that they had had a good meal. Scampering across the barren autumn field, he reached the coils of twisted wire that signified the start of Ancelstierre. Marveling at some of the bizzare contraptions that people used here, Mogget ran on. He knew that Kerrigor was not far behind him. He could sense the Free Magic. He ran along a large path, and he assumed that this path was used for wagons and such. Darting in and out of the ruts, he could also sense the Abhorsen. He would bear his last burden and complete the final command of this wretched bloodline…
Coiling fog began to spin up from the ground as Mogget ran south. There were sirens wailing as he loped along, but as the fog reached them, they stopped. Soon the fog was all around him, and he sat for a moment. He could begin to hear the Dead lumbering close behind him. Mogget stretched up, reaching with his paws, and grew into his unconstrained form. Now the fog was little more than an annoyance, but at least he could see through it. He ran more quickly now, and absorbed the light that he normally shone with. Mogget was as dark as a night without stars when he reached Wyverly College, a little ahead of the huge army and the massive hulk of Kerrigor.
"…you will deliver our sword and the Seventh Bell, and you will not be victorious against Kerrigor."
"As you command, Abhorsen." Mogget saw immediately what Terciel had planned and ordered. He wondered idly if Sabriel still held onto the ruby decorated ring that would re-bind him. If she had not…. Mogget smiled a small smile and pushed his head closer to the Abhorsen. Terciel pulled on the Charter spell that bound Mogget, and the red leather collar dissolved into a flurry of golden Charter Marks. Terciel held his sword at the guard and did not wait long to ring the Weeper.
Mogget was pulled into Death with the Abhorsen, but only because of Terciel's command to return the blade and bell to Sabriel. As Terciel handed both to Mogget, he confirmed that the command would hold.
"You will do as I say."
"So I am bound."