Hiya! This is my first Garth Nix fic and I wanted it to be unique…so I spent hours grooming the 300 some other fic's so as to create an original plotline and store. And, though I found a whole bunch of "Lirael's daughter's adventures" and "after Orannis's defeat" and "insanely unrelated parody" types, I haven't found one like this, so I decided to write it. It takes place way before the trilogy around the time of the 30-somethingth Abhorsen. Proceed to read…I hope you like it!
She was drifting down into Death, towards the ninth and final gate, towards the gleaming stars that would end her in this world forever. The bells would pass to her cousin, and she would no longer be the Abhorsen. She was too weak to struggle against the binding current, the current that leeched away her soul as she crossed through the Fifth Precinct. Her raven hair flowed around her petite form as she drifted.
Can it be possible that an Abhorsen is too weak to resist death? Wouldn't the souls of those who came before be pushing her into life and saying "this is not your path" if it were so? It is so. She mouthed, her pallid lips forming the words which were her fateAnother dead Abhorsen.
Suddenly, she felt two burning hands lift her out of the river. She felt the corroding twist of Free Magic as it lifted her body out of the river, its force intertwining itself around her.
"No." she whispered faintly, her eyelids fluttering. She tried to resist. Death itself would bring her inevitable end, but she would not become the dead puppet of a necromancer. No Hand will be made out of me, she thought defiantly. The necromancer was carrying her towards the life side of the river. As her spirit broke the barrier between Life and Death, she lost all conscious thought.
Sometime later, she awoke into pure darkness. The familiar weight of her bells and charter-spelled sword were absent and she was bound with Free Magic-imbued cords to a pillar. It was made of limestone, formed from the convergence of a stalagmite and a stalactite that dripped water on her as she sat. She heard the soft musical plinking of water droplets on limestone in the damp darkness.
She was afraid. Death felt eerily close, but the usual wariness that accompanied darkness was gone. She felt no dead creatures, no necromancers with their stench of free magic, no one. She was completely and utterly alone in the darkness.
She shifted, and felt every single one of her injuries. Her body was battered and bruised all over. Her thighs ached from riding. She felt her left eye and cheek swelling; they would soon be purple and black. She felt the sting of various cuts all over her body, the gash on her right thigh, the cut on her temple. She felt the dried blood fro her nose, which was probably broken, encrusted on her lips and chin. Even her lips, the last form of a weapon that she had, were bruised and bloody.
She realized that in addition to being bound, she was gagged, and choked. She began to cry, the tears wet her dirt and bloodstained cheeks, leaving trails in the grime, and rolled down to drop off of her chin. She cried for her fate; to die alone or possibly about the fact that she was too weak to have a strong sense of the warmth of the Charter.
She was so far from the strong, confident Abhorsen that she had been only yesterday. She had faced multitudes of Hands, hundreds of Shadow Hands, flocks of Gore Crows, the attacks of necromancers, and even a few of the Greater Dead, but was broken and crying. Nevertheless, she wouldn't give up.
The necromancer heard her crying from his waiting spot, barely in the First Precinct. He smiled to himself.
"So my lovely Abhorsen has awoken…I must attend to her." He said, and then crossed the river back to Life, the current dragging weakly at his ankles as he emerged.
She felt a dark, tainted presence emerge near her, very near. It was strong. The Necromancer, she realized as he resumed his body. Ice crystals broke loose from his clothing as he summoned the fire of Free Magic, lighting hidden candles that perched in alcoves and ledges around the small cavern. The acrid flames lent a greenish light to the area. The Abhorsen Girl looked at him and him at her.
She had the famous blue-black hair that cascaded down to her waist, and the pallid countenance. Her face was marked all over with black blood and bruises, lacerations that showed darkly against her pale skin. The moisture of tears glistened upon her cheeks, streaking through the blood and grime. She was small, yet her armor vaguely hinted to a curvaceous figure. Her large black-brown eyes looked into his. They were void-like; a void surrounded with thick, lush, dark lashes. She glared at him, her expression a mixture of extreme pain and defiance.
She looked at the necromancer who had captured her from death and made her captive here. His dark brown, shoulder length hair was cut in lengthening layers around his head. He was tall and thin, but muscled. His strong, supple limbs and slender frame had enticed many women in the past, women unaware of his occupation. His eyes were incredibly blue, icy and clear like the Clayr's Glacier. His face might have been described as handsome, were it not for the lack of warmth. His skin was bronzed, but seemed curiously pale, pale from walking in death.
"Do you promise that you won't try to fight if I remove your gag?" His voice was in surprisingly warm and light tones for a necromancer. She made no attempt to answer him, but looked at him coldly as he bent down to where she knelt and slipped the gag off. Immediately, she attempted to whistle him into death, her voice singing of Kibeth, but she was too weak to even make him reach the boundary.
"Now, love, that won't do."
He laughed musically and smiled at her. He found it rather amusing to have complete control over so powerful a being as she. When he was received coldly, he frowned. He ran to finger down the length of her cheek, sending shivers down the length of her spine. She closed her eyes and turned her face away. The necromancer stood up.
"Now, my lovely Abhorsen, tell me your name." He looked at her. Had he wanted to, he could have spelled his words to force her to do so, but he found that this was a question she would answer freely. A name was free to give or hold; it was of no importance. Yet, he was met with a proud, defiant gaze. He was angered slightly by her refusal.
"Speak, Abhorsen." He commanded, his words crackled; they were wreathed with the taint of Free Magic. She fought the impulse for several minutes before the word spilled out.
"Sorielle."
"Mmm…Sorielle." He murmured. Swiftly, he leaned down and kissed her. She offered no resistance as his tongue entered her mouth. He held the side of her face tenderly. She was compelled by some unknown force, unlike any she'd ever encountered, to respond. Their bodies drew together naturally. The electricity of the kiss shocked through her. Free Magic and Charter magic were exchanged, the force rocking through her limbs and vibrating her very core. Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving her feeling hollow. She breathed heavily and looked at him, shocked, enraged, and wanting more all at the same time. She felt tainted by the Free Magic, and it felt good.
The necromancer put two fingers to his lips, and then looked at them. They seemed to have some of Sorielle's blood on them, and he smiled knowingly. He turned and walked away, his cape flaring out behind him. He strode out of the lit cavern, and faded into the darkness, his footsteps echoing until Sorielle couldn't hear them any longer.
"And who the hell are you?" She whispered in his direction. "A necromancer who would seduce an Abhorsen? Why don't you finish with me and kill me as any other would? Have your macabre pleasure and be done?"
She stared in wonder in the direction of the necromancer. And why did I respond like that? What force guided my actions? I always think with logic, not…And why do I somehow hunger for the Free Magic of our embrace?
"Who the hell are you?" she screamed hoarsely into the darkness, her voice redolent with the tone of Dyrim.
So, did you like it? I would so give you a cookie if you reviewed. Oh, and I'd appreciate acknowledgement about the character descriptions. I'd Fed-Ex it. (Laughs) The necromancer was supposed to be evil and hot. (He's my hot necromancer!)If I didn't get that across…Anyways, please review. Toodles-Siren's Voice
