Author's note: Whew. It's been a while! For some reason this chapter was really hard to write. But we're almost finished now. Please read and review!


"I don't see anything." Andrael's eyes scanned the perimeter of the walled city of Sindle, nestled below them. The thick forests had given way to a bleak landscape of craggy rocks covered by sheets of snow and ice with twisted, stunted trees dotting the few patches of earth. The three stood in the shadow of a rocky outcropping, observing. Andrael obviously observed the white expanse before them, a perfect unblocked passage into the town where rest and warmth surely waited.

Terciel observed the girl, even as he tried to stay alert to his surroundings. The final days of riding had been difficult for everyone, and he was especially proud of her for bearing up so well. Time and time again he had seen her falter, believing that she was at her limit, only to find new reserves of energy that she hadn't known she possessed.

Abhorsen's trained eyes, however, rested on the landscape north of the town, where stands of trees and uneven ground created shelter from the sun and wind. She answered Andrael, "You will soon. The Dead are laying in wait to ambush us should we show ourselves. And they'll be out in force at night, when they're strongest." She glanced at the gray sky and added wistfully, "It's almost dusk."

They stood silently for several minutes, the two youths waiting for Abhorsen to give some order. But she merely stared down at the city. Terciel could almost see the cogs turning in her mind. Why was she hesitating? He watched as she closed her eyes and began mumbling to herself. He couldn't tell if she was reciting Charter marks or a prayer. Shifting awkwardly and wondering if he shouldn't remind Abhorsen of where they were, and of the urgency of the situation, he tried to listen to her whispered litany. He couldn't make out a single word. Then Abhorsen's eyes suddenly snapped open, full of their usual spark and certainty, and she said quite clearly, "…For that is not their path." She turned her intense gaze on her apprentice and smiled, adding, "Wait here." Before Terciel could respond, she was off, galloping down the rocky scree and towards the town.

"What's she doing?" wondered Andrael nervously as she and Terciel watched her go.

Terciel shrugged, trying to hide his own dubiousness. "She must have a plan," he said.

As Abhorsen reached the great gates of the city, which were closed tight against the undead enemy lying in wait outside, something approached her. It was a cloaked figure, on foot, strolling the perimeter of the walls. It had been hidden around a corner, but now it strode forward to meet the woman on horseback who challenged it

Terciel and Andrael could only peer tensely around their rocky hiding place, trying to stay in shadow and also see what was happening. The two figures below appeared to be speaking to one another. Abhorsen gestured calmly with her arms. The other paced slowly around her horse, forcing her to turn in a circle so as not to expose her back. Both their movements became more animated, and Terciel was sure that they must be arguing heatedly.

Then, with a crack like a whip, Abhorsen threw off her riding cloak to reveal her coat, her weapons, and her identity. Terciel could see the flash of blue and silver from where he stood. She drew her sword, a display that could have struck fear into the soul of anything living or dead in the Old Kingdom. But the other merely laughed so loudly that the sound reached even Terciel's and Andrael's ears, and discarded its own cloak as well.

The last light of the setting sun revealed the figure to be a man approaching middle age. He was skinny, though he did not appear weak. Once-blonde hair was streaked with gray, and his skin was unnaturally pale. Terciel mistook the strap of leather across his chest for a quiver of arrows until he looked closer and realized that it held not arrows, but seven bells. This was the necromancer they had sought.

But unexpectedly, Andrael choked out a startled cry. Before Terciel could stop her, she had kicked her horse into motion and begun running and slipping down toward the gates. The necromancer's eyes followed her, and Abhorsen turned just in time to see Terciel begin to come after her. Her shout of, "No! Go back!" went unheeded, and both of the children continued unchecked.

Terciel didn't fail to notice movement in the shadows all around him. As the sun suddenly set, the Dead were emerging from their hiding places. They were too slow to catch the horses, but they came in droves and formed an impenetrable wall behind Terciel as he passed them. Their escape was cut off.

He reigned in his horse beside Abhorsen's and kept an eye on the advancing wall of Dead Hands. They had formed a semi circle, trapping the group against the wall of the city. But he was distracted from the army surrounding them by Andrael, who had leaped off her horse and now stood before the necromancer. Her mouth hung open, and her eyes were full of pain, disbelief, and irrational hope. Ignoring Abhorsen's and Terciel's shouted warnings, she walked toward the necromancer as if she were in a dream.

"Father?" she breathed, winded by shock.

"WHAT?" Abhorsen demanded.

"So he really was a necromancer after all," Terciel growled wryly. Abhorsen turned her head and gave him a deadly look.

"You knew about this?" she hissed.

Terciel replied with a wince, "I probably should have figured it out, yes."

Andrael's eyes flicked reluctantly away from her father to search Terciel's, pleading. "I don't understand…" she said, dazed. But any explanation was prevented by the necromancer, who suddenly stepped forward and drew Andrael into a deep embrace. She was stiff at first, but soon her arms wound around her father's neck and she began crying into his shoulder.

"My sweet girl," said the necromancer, and Terciel was surprised to hear sincere emotion in his voice. "I had hoped against hope that you would find me. You don't know how I've suffered, wondering what had become of you. I would have brought you with me, but after all that… happened… I couldn't risk going back into the town. I didn't want to leave you behind. Will you ever forgive me?"

"Yes! Yes!" Andrael sobbed without so much as a thought, "But what happened? Why d-did you have to leave? You and mother were just g-gone and I was so scared!"

"I'm so sorry," he crooned, stroking her hair soothingly, "I'll explain everything. Everything will be alright now that we're together again."

"Don't listen to him." Abhorsen's harsh voice interrupted the tearful reunion. "He's the necromancer we came here to defeat. He's laid siege to this town and killed the traders who used this road. He sent those Hands to kill us too."

It was shocking how quickly the necromancer's face flashed from love to rage. "Hold your tongue, witch!" he shouted, "You would try to poison my own daughter against me?" He took Andrael's face in his hands and spoke to her, pleading, "It's true that I've kept things from you. But you must trust me that I did it all for the best."

Abhorsen gave a derisive laugh. "Andrael," she said calmly, "He's not even alive anymore!" With a jolt, Terciel realized that she was right. The necromancer's skin was not simply pale from having walked in death, but actually tinged with green rot. There was also a jagged line across his throat where magic had failed to completely erase the traces of a mortal wound. Andrael noticed as well, and involuntarily flinched away from her father's embrace.

"I said HOLD YOUR TONGUE!" the necromancer screamed, and this time the Dead Hands responded to his murderous will. They surged forward, filling the gap between Andrael and her companions. Andrael and her father now stood in a tiny circle surrounded by Dead. The Hands at the front of the line menaced Abhorsen and Terciel, but Abhorsen barely blinked. She fingered the blade of her sword and stared down her enemy. The necromancer glared back at her. "Unless you think you and that child of yours can defeat my entire army alone," he said, "You'll let me speak to my daughter." Abhorsen was silent. Terciel, terrified, could only follow her lead.

Andrael stood miserably, her arms hugging her own shoulders protectively. "You're dead?" she whispered, "And you've killed people? Why?"

"My own death… was an unfortunate accident," he said. He reached out to take her in his arms again, but she took a half-step back and he let her be. "As for all of this," he went on, a sweep of the arm indicating his army and the gates of Sindle, "This is a plan that has been decades in the making! I finally raised enough Hands to take Sindle. A few more weeks without food and they'll be begging to surrender. And with this city as my base, I'll soon have an army big enough to conquer Belisaere!"

"You're trying to take over the Kingdom?" Andrael said, still dazed.

"For purely altruistic reasons," he assured her, "It's not as though I intend to set myself up as a despot. But the regency has stretched on for too long, becoming complacent and corrupt. There is no one of Royal blood left to take the crown. So when the regency falls, as it surely will soon, the Kingdom will be plunged into anarchy and chaos. Everyone will suffer. Unless someone deposes the regents before they fall to their own greed. Someone who can lead the Kingdom out of this age of darkness. I can see I've frightened you. These Dead Hands… I understand that they seem shocking to you. But necromancy was a necessary evil in order to gain enough power to save the Kingdom. I'm not evil. I'm still the father you knew!"

"You want to save the Kingdom…" Andrael repeated, and Terciel was alarmed to see that she was beginning to look hopeful again. "There… there's a prophecy about me. The Clayr saw that I would help restore the Kingdom and the Charter. Maybe… maybe I'm supposed to do that by helping you!"

"No!" Terciel called out from behind the wall of Dead, "Andrael, that's wrong and you know it!" But before he could go on, the necromancer gave a nod and five Hands sprang forward to drag Terciel off of his horse. He collapsed to the ground with a scream, and the Hands were about to descend on him.

"Please don't!" Andrael cried, grabbing her father's arm, "Please. They're good. You don't have to fight, do you?" The Hands let go of Terciel and rejoined the line. Terciel scrambled to his feet and saw that in the split second as he had gone down, Saraneth had jumped into Abhorsen's hand. She clutched her weapons now, wound as tightly as a spring. Terciel nodded to show her that he was unharmed, and she relaxed by a millimeter.

The necromancer appeared conflicted, but he patted Andrael's hand with a smile. "As long as they don't interfere with my plans, of course there's no reason for us to fight."

"Then that's alright," she said, her voice breaking and laughing with relief, "Everything will be alright. I only have one question left." She smiled, but the darkness in her eyes showed that she already suspected the answer. "Where's mother?"

The necromancer's face fell. "An… an accident," he muttered, "I couldn't have foreseen…"

"Where is she?"

"She followed me even after I told her not to. She didn't let me explain."

"She found out," Andrael said, tears streaming down her face, "And you killed her!"

"To be perfectly fair," he replied, his fingers going to the scar at his throat, "She killed me first."

Andrael's eye flicked over the faces of the Hands all around her. Her father guessed what she was thinking. "She's not one of them," he said, "I would never have done such a thing to her. Whatever you may think of me, I loved your mother. Just as I love you."

"Then who are they?" she said. Her face was full of grief, but Terciel could see in her eyes that the pieces were coming together.

"Just bodies," said the necromancer, "They died of various things. No one you know."

"But they're not enough to take the capitol," she said, "You'll need many more bodies, and souls. And you can't just wait for people to die of natural causes." She waited, but the necromancer was silent. She spoke the answer that he could not, "That's why you had to attack Sindle. You're going to kill them all."

"Don't you understand?" he pleaded, "They all would have died anyway. If the regency falls, everyone will die. Cities will crumble and their people will be scattered and lost. The people in this one small city… their lives are such a small price to pay to save so many others. Do you see? Please, I need you to understand."

"I understand, father," said Andrael, wiping away her tears even as fresh ones continued to fall, "I understand perfectly." She ran to him, letting him hold her once more. She pressed her hands against his chest and buried her face in the cold flesh of his neck. They stood that way for what seemed, to Terciel, to be an eternity. Then there was a flash of light as Andrael cried out, "Anet! Calew! Ferhan!"

The necromancer staggered backwards, a jagged hole in his chest and an expression of pure disbelief on his face. Terciel readied his sword. There was no avoiding it now. They would have to fight their way out.