A/N: Ah, the joys of University applications. You're lucky I even finished this chapter before choking to death on my UCAS form! And thanks to SpellSpinner777 as usual! Riddle Xx

CHAPTER 10

"There's definitely something out there" whispered Ellimere to the second-in-command on their Guard boat. Eloië was a calm, collected woman in her mid-thirties, highly ranked in the Trained Bands, who clearly had some Clayr ancestry as her hair was so blonde it was almost white. However, she had dark eyes and fair skin, and her alert, restless manner was nothing like any of the Clayr Ellimere knew. Universally respected amongst the Guard for her quiet logic and ferocious fighting ability, Ellimere had a high respect for the older woman, and felt strange being her superior. Eloië nodded, fingering her sword, as Ellimere had noticed she did when agitated.

Ellimere wasn't feeling too calm herself. Their first few hours on the Ratterlin delta had been fairly ordinary. It was only a little further up the river, as the sun sunk lower on the horizon, that they had begun to encounter problems. Misty lights could be seen bobbing up and down on the riverbank, and the strange fog they were sailing through got thicker and thicker the further they rowed. Ellimere was jumpy. The fog seemed to muffle everything around her, even the rhythmic splash of the guards' oars echoed strangely through the fog.

"The Dead" said Eloië, turning her watch-glass to the Northern shore. "I'm almost certain. I have not had many encounters with the Dead, but nothing living moves like that" she swallowed thickly, passing the watch-glass wordlessly to Ellimere, who stood up at the bow of the boat, holding on to the flag-mast for support, her hair blowing around her face. Hand shaking slightly, she raised the watch-glass to her face.

She knew immediately what Eloië meant. There were shadows through the fog that, at first glance, appeared human. No human moved like that. The rolling, shuffling gait made her shiver, the way they would suddenly lurch to the side, moving as though drunk, so drunk that they could no longer even control their own movements...

She took a deep breath, trying to control her violent shivering. It suddenly hit her that even after all her mother had told her, all she had heard, all she knew about the Dead, she had never actually seen one. And the sight of something so unnatural, so totally against nature, scared her more than she cared to admit. She brought down the glasses.

Ellimere was no coward. But there was one thing that she could not handle, and that was situations beyond her control. Things that she didn't have the power to deal with. The Dead certainly fitted into that category. Ellimere was a more than competent warrior, she knew. She could wield two swords to deadly effect, shoot up to five arrows in succession into a moving target several hundred yards away, and if all else failed, hit a bull's-eye with her dagger almost every time. She was also- more due to practise than talent- a very proficient Charter Mage. But would any of that help against the Dead? Necromancy was totally beyond her. She remembered, as a little girl, looking with fascination at her mother's bells, fingering the Marks on the beautifully polished wood and metal. But Marks were what they remained- no magic sparked under her fingers, and the golden warmth of the Charter failed to touch her. Perhaps that was the reason she had never been as close to Sabriel as she had to Touchstone- part of her mother remained strange to her, something she would never, could never, understand.

"What are we going to do, Princess Ellimere?" whispered Eloië, carefully speaking quietly so as not to alert the other Guards to the presence of the Dead. One of the Guards nearest to them- Ellimere didn't recognise him so he was probably one of the ones who had been sent south from Callibe- gave them a strange look, and when Ellimere spoke she lowered her voice even more.

"I'm going to try and avoid them the best we can" said Ellimere, "but we need to be prepared. Can you contact the other boats?" Eloië nodded. "Well, I think we need to get together the best Charter Mages, and those with the strongest-spelled weapons. If we have a group of strong fighters at the front and the back of the party, we should be able to beat them off well enough. It's not too far to Barhedrin, and most of the Dead are on the Northern shore, so there shouldn't be too many around"

"Are you sure?" said Eloië. "We could contact the Abhorsen..."

"There are far bigger problems afoot in the Kingdom than a few renegade Dead by the banks of the Delta" pointed out Ellimere. "I won't trouble the Abhorsen with a problem that we can probably handle ourselves, especially if it takes her away from more important duties". The other woman nodded. "Contact the rest of the Guard boats and tell them we'll gather at the bend in the river, where the Ratterlin turns North" said Ellimere. "And tell them to light as many torches as they can"

"Torches? Won't the Dead see them?" said Eloië. Ellimere shook her head.

"They know we're here, whether it's night or not" she said. "They can sense Life, as my mother and her kind sense Death. Trying to remain inconspicuous will do nothing for us, and fire is second only to running water as a protection against the Dead. Charter Fire may be even better- it will make our force seem stronger than it actually is, and perhaps prevent more Dead from turning up" the blonde woman nodded, getting out a conch shell. As she picked it up, a line of Charter Marks, almost invisible, brightened slightly, showing the link that connected this shell to the boats behind them, rowing in single file. Stronger than it looked, the spell was inconspicuous enough that the mages on the boats did not pick up on the fact that it was activated.

"How many Dead do you think we will be facing?" whispered Eloië.

"Perhaps fifty" said Ellimere, not mentioning to the guardswoman that she could see several of the Dead shambling along the bank after them. "A large number, but we have many men and they're far from any sources of power, like broken Charter Stones. I believe these were created far to the West-"

"The Red Lake" muttered Eloië, but Ellimere ignored her and continued to speak.

"-so whoever controls them has either let them loose or should be far away. In any case, I can't sense anything out there"

"You don't have the Death sense, though" pointed out Cynel, who was sitting at the bow calling occasional instructions to the rowers and had obviously been eavesdropping on their entire conversation.

"Not to the degree that Sameth or Mother does, but I have a slight affinity" said Ellimere. "I can feel when Dead are very close, and Mother thinks I could probably feel if something very powerful is approaching. Not much, I know, it's all we have" Eloië nodded.

"I think we have enough Mages to drive back fifty, at least for a time. You don't think they'll follow us to Barhedrin?"

"No, I don't think so. Remember that necromancer my mother fought, Cynel? She told us that as soon as she had banished her, a few strong spells were enough to scatter most of the Dead. We just need to present a strong front"

"I hope you know what you're talking about, Your Highness" said Eloië, "Because I haven't a clue. We should be there in little under two hours, as long as the weather holds"

"Good" said Ellimere. "Then tell the other Guard Boats what they must do."

The wooden landing stage, often used by Guard boats, stuck out halfway into the sluggish river, and Ellimere was glad that she could organize the troops under her command before venturing out onto land, where they would be in reach of the Dead that Ellimere could see gathered around the bank. One or two more would lurch into sight every minute, and she knew they had to move soon or risk being outnumbered.

"We should spell some arrows, Your Highness" interjected Lyndon. "At the very least."

"There's no time, Lyndon. We need to scare them off, and move to Barhedrin. The area is protected by a Charter Stone; they won't risk attacking the hill." Ellimere felt far less confident than she appeared at first glance. It certainly would be helpful to have some spare arrows, but she wasn't even sure she remembered all the marks that were needed for such a spell, and had no idea how many of the Guards were that advanced in their magic.

"Yes, of course, Your Highness. Shall we start moving out?"

"Yes, tell the Mages to prepare their spells." Lyndon nodded, and began moving along the front line of Mages. As he moved, Charter magic began to blossom along the line, some stronger than others. She caught Johen's eye and he gave her a small smile and a nod over the handful of bright Charter-fire that was illuminating his face. Cynel's palms were illuminated by small discs of light, which began to grow in her hand and soon resembled miniature moons, glowing gold and silver. Ellimere turned her own mind to the Charter. What would she use? Her mind flew back to the spells her father used to teach her, and she closed her eyes, visualising the Marks she needed. Ten pinpricks of light began to glow at the tips of her fingers.

"GUARDS! Back in formation!" The sudden shouted order disrupted Ellimere's concentration and the spell slipped from her as her head snapped up. It was Kayvin, the normally calm Guard Ellimere had brought with her from Belisaere. His sword was out and he was looking at a group of twenty or so guards who had broken off from the main group, and were now halfway across the wooden bridge towards land. Ellimere could see not one of the regiment from Belisaere. These were about half of the Callibe Guard that had met them at the estuary. Slowly, they turned to face Ellimere and her Guards- and began to draw weapons. Ellimere gaped at the man at the front of their group.

"Haden?" whispered Ellimere. "He's one of Dad's closest friends, I know he wouldn't-"

"Something tells me that may be an imposter" said Cynel. "Look at his eyes" Ellimere gasped. The man she thought was Haden had cocked his plumed hat, and revealed the silver flames that had been concealed from view.

"Free Magic! Traitors!" spat Johen, who was standing behind her, echoed by the mutters of several other Guards. "In the pay of the Enemy!"

"Or perhaps controlled by him" said Ellimere quietly, looking at the thing that resembled Haden. It seemed that he- it- was unaware that anyone had noticed anything.

"MAGES IN FORMATION!" roared Lyndon suddenly, causing Ellimere to jump with a start. "SWORDSMEN ON STAND! ARCHERS, READY!" a sudden flurry of activity followed his words. Lyndon turned to Ellimere, who had drawn her sword, and, grabbing her arm, pushed her back through several ranks of Guards. "At least ten men are to surround Princess Ellimere until I say otherwise" he barked, and immediately a dozen Guardsmen began to close in around her.

"What is- what are you- of course I'm not going to stand by like some damsel in distress!" she spat at Lyndon. "You need all of the Mages you can get!"

"You can cast spells from back here, Princess Ellimere" said Lyndon gently. "You will be one of their prime targets, and until we have this situation under control, I need to know you will be protected."

"But-" Ellimere began to protest, and then shut her mouth with a scowl. She nodded, and Lyndon grasped her shoulder in thanks.

"You're a good warrior, Princess Ellimere. But you have a price on your head that we don't want to pay," He turned and pushed his way through the massed ranks of the Guard. "Archers, READY! AIM! FIRE!"

Instantly all was noise and confusion. Ellimere saw several of the men go down, and instantly there was a rush as the Belisaere Guard charged. Yells and the clash of weapons broke the silence, and the cracks and flashes of Charter Magic temporarily blinded her.

Something was nagging at the back of Ellimere's mind. The Belisaere Guard...

Suddenly, Ellimere realised with a jolt in the pit of her stomach that there was not a single familiar face surrounding her. Not one of the twelve men surrounding her had she seen before. She stiffened, and one of the Guards turned to look at her. It was the one that had looked at her so strangely on the boat. With an even bigger shock, she saw something protruding from his forehead. A wisp of black hair, completely at odds with his blond looks. She turned her head down, and his head spun back to face outside the circle. But Ellimere was not looking at her feet. She had instantly reached for the Charter. The black wisp had reminded her of something- Sabriel's stories of how she came to be Abhorsen, or, more specifically, how her father had passed on his legacy to her, by sending a Dead creature to deliver the sword and bells. This man was controlled by an Adept- perhaps a necromancer had given that Free Magic construct control of him. In the split second before she had averted her eyes, she saw the man next to him had the same wisp on his own forehead. That meant they all did, or enough to have an effect.

The Charter was hard coming- the Free Magic creature she had seen was pressing at her senses- but eventually the Marks she was looking for flooded into her mind. After the initial effort, she had never had them come easier, and they almost seemed to link themselves in her mind. Perhaps in her urgency she was just concentrating harder.

With a flash, the spell in her hand came to life, and the Guards surrounding her spun around, drawing their weapons. The blond guard raised his sword, and in the split second before it came down on Ellimere's unprotected head, she let the spell go.

It was one of the best she had ever cast. It expanded like an explosion, throwing the men around her back at least ten yards, with a loud crack that echoed in the darkness. Four fell with a splash into the dark river, and a gout of smoke showed that the Death-spell on them had been destroyed, taking the men with it. She had not time for regret, or even pride in her spell casting. She knew that if she were Sameth, it would have thrown them all into the waters. However much she practised, she lacked the talent that she knew could save her.

Her spell had another consequence, though. Several of the Guards who remained upon the landing stage came running to her aid. Cynel swiftly cut the throat of the one closest to her, but was forced instantly back by two others. Ellimere dived at one of them and he brought his huge sword up with lethal force, jarring her swords so badly that her head snapped back involuntarily. She whipped both around her head, meeting his sword with one and his shoulder, in a spray of bright blood, with the other. Before she could finish him off, she felt a blow to the side of her head and was thrown sideways violently, cracking her head on the splintered wooden landing. Another traitor had struck her with the shaft of his spear and she fell, momentarily stunned, to the ground. Her head was spinning, she couldn't see straight, the sounds of clashing weapons and shouting men filled her unprotected ears...

She blinked and normal vision returned, giving her a split second in which to roll out of the way and leap to her feet. The blond man was wrestling his sword out of the splintered wood of the landing stage, where her heart had been only seconds before. Swiftly she brought both of her swords across in a slashing motion, cutting the tendons in the back of his knees and, before he had a chance to scream, she brought both together to run him through, in head and heart. Leaping over his body, she spun round to see Eloië fighting her way back through the mass of fighting men to where Ellimere was.

Ellimere saw a man running to intercept Eloië, and she dodged an arrow to bring her swords up to meet his. Engaged as she was, the white flash on the edge of her vision hardly permeated her consciousness- she took it for a Charter Spell- and thanks to the other man's surprise, in seconds she had cut his throat with a well-aimed flick of her right-hand sword. The man she had just killed had not even fallen yet when someone slammed into her from behind, and, losing her footing, she fell forwards, her knees slamming onto the hard wooden landing stage, sending a jarring pain up her legs, before she pitched forward into the freezing water of the Ratterlin. Surfacing instantaneously, she saw something hit the water twenty yards away, sending up a huge plume of steam and sparks. She gasped as a wave of hot water hit her, forcing her to her smarting knees and filling her throat. Coughing and choking, she turned to see someone else doing the same thing.

"Johen?"

"The one and only" coughed Johen, who had a vicious-looking cut across one cheek and was bleeding profusely from a slash on his arm. "That... thing... revealed itself and dived straight for you. After your Blood, no doubt. Come on, Princess, let's get to shore." He grabbed her hand and started to pull her after him, but she wrenched it away.

"But- the Dead-"

"Look" he pointed and Ellimere saw that the Dead were scattering, although most were following the dozen or so of the traitorous Guards who were fleeing the scene. At first, Ellimere thought that they were under their command- and then, with a sickening realisation, she saw one of the Dead fall upon a man with a primal scream.

"One Life is as good as another now they've lost their master" said Johen quietly. "And they're the weaker target."

"We need to go" said Ellimere. She glanced at the landing stage, where most fighting had stopped. Within a minute, when she stepped back on to the bloodstained wooden planks, wincing at the pain in her knees and wrists, none of the traitors were left. They had paid for their victory, though- she could see at least ten dead Belisaere Guards, and lying there-

"Cynel!" she gasped, running to where her friend lay.

"Ellimere" groaned Cynel. "My leg- that thing hit me- I think it's broken". She coughed and blood sprayed from her mouth.

"Mages!" shouted Ellimere, trying to keep the panic from her voice. "To me!"

Immediately around a dozen men and women, those close enough and not already occupied with the injured, ran to her aid. Ellimere placed one hand on Cynel's abdomen, and another on her leg, ignoring the woman's gasp of pain. Behind her, she felt all the mages join her spell, and the Marks she called blossomed through the chain. Focusing hard, wishing not for the first time that evening that she had Sam's skill, she sent the spell into Cynel's body with a force so hard she stumbled back to land on the Guard behind her. Apologising hurriedly, she darted back to Cynel, who was lying down, her eyes closed. Ellimere's heart skipped a beat.

"That was one hell of a shock" muttered Cynel through chapped and bloody lips, her eyes fluttering open. "But it seems... to have worked..." Ellimere gasped and relieved tears filled her eyes.

"Here" said Johen, kneeling beside the blonde woman and offering an arm. "Princess, would you-" Ellimere immediately grasped Cynel's other arm and they hauled her up. Her face was white with pain-for, tired as they were, even twelve Mages had not managed to fully heal her crushed leg.

"Is it alright until we reach Barhedrin?" said Ellimere, anxiously looking at Cynel, who smiled faintly and nodded. Ellimere and Johen guided her over to where several men were rigging up a portable stretcher. Two other men were already being carried along the road that led to Barhedrin.

"Swords out, men!" barked Lyndon, who seemed to have a broken arm and yet was still helping to support a young man while his stretcher was prepared. "Archers at the ready, and Mages, be prepared! Princess Ellimere, are you alright?"

"Yes, thanks to Guardsman Johen" called back Ellimere, grasping his bloodied hand in thanks. He nodded to her, smiled briefly, and then walked over to where two guards were performing the funeral rites on their lost men, kneeling down and putting his hand on one man's shoulder for assistance. Ellimere swallowed and blinked hard before she started crying. Cynel may have lived, but others had died. She could have been one of them. With that thought in mind, she drew both of her swords, and walked up to where Lyndon was organising the Guard into ranks.

"We must use truth-spells on the remaining Guards from Qyrre" she said quietly. "I thought it was just High Bridge that had been infiltrated... How many are left?"

"Eleven, I believe" said Lyndon. "Of course, Your Highness. I NEED NINE MAGES!" he barked, causing Ellimere to jump again. She never would have guessed that this quiet, calm man was so loud in an emergency. "You can perform the spell, Princess Ellimere?" he said quietly, and she nodded, turning to the first of the men from Qyrre, who could not have been older than herself. He looked terrified, all colour had drained from his face except the blood that leaked from one of his temples.

"Quiet" she whispered, closing her eyes and bringing two fingers to touch his Charter Mark. He shivered at her touch.

"Your name?" she said.

"Emeses, milady" he answered. His Mark flashed warm under her fingers.

"Did you know of the plot?"

"No, milady" Again, she felt the warmth of the true Charter touch her.

"Are you under obligation to anyone except your superior in the Guard?"

"No, milady" Again, the response was true. She nodded to Lyndon. Emeses tapped her on the shoulder, his lip quivering.

"Milady, if I had known, I would have- I- forgive me" he said, his eyes downcast. She smiled at him.

"There is nothing to forgive, Emeses. Draw your sword, Guardsman" he nodded, saluted, and managed a weak smile as Ellimere walked on to where the single lying Guard had just been dispatched. His eyes fluttered as she looked at him, and then he was still.

"Burn it," said Ellimere coldly "And then we march to Barhedrin."

All around her, the Guards, bloodied and bruised, hurried to obey her orders. In her mind, she could hear Sameth whispering "Slavedriver!"

"Well," she told the imaginary Sameth "I believe in this one case it is excusable". Shaking her brother out of her mind, she turned to face the road, and conjured a small Charter light. Surrounded as they were by dangers, it felt like a long way to Barhedrin Hill.