Hello! Me no owning Garth Nix's characters or the stories. Did you know RACE CAR is a palindrome? Fantastic!

Life Is Too Short For Cowardliness

Torrigan glanced up as three messengers were shown into the throne room by a grim-faced guard. The messengers were all male and looked tired, yet they still managed to bow to their Queen and the heirs in a humble manner. Torrigan glanced at Rogir, who sat nearby and frowned. Since the Clayr messenger had departed three days before, all Rogir could do was frown, and his dull mood had effected the rest of the family. They were all snappy, irritable – Torrigan was even finding it difficult to speak with Elsie now!

Torrigan's mother nodded as the messengers straightened, her beautiful face looking more drained and stressed than Torrigan had ever seen before in his life. Who would have thought after all the hardship and woe that the Queen had to face all the time could not upset her more than revealing that she was a liar? The boy fidgeted in his seat – he wanted to feel sympathetic towards his mother, but he just couldn't! He still felt that he hated the Queen for lying to him for all those years, but yet he did feel...guilty. It was too early to forgive her, he knew that, and he now felt uncomfortable around his siblings. Well, his half-siblings. That was probably why.

"Highness," the first messenger said humbly. "We bring sorrowful tidings. The Abhorsen is dead."

Silence followed his announcement. Then Elsie began to cry, turning and throwing her arms around Rogir. The Crown Prince wrapped his arms round his sister's shoulders, his face expressionless as he stared towards the messengers before the family. Torrigan felt heat flare at the back of his eyes, and tears suddenly blurring his vision. He bit his lip hard, controlling his misery. A hand slipped over his own, making Torrigan jump. When he looked up, Meredith was looking straight ahead, her face and feelings controlled, as though she was refusing to except that she was comforting her annoying little brother. But it gave Torrigan strength, and he shifted his hand so that he and Meredith held hands for support. The Princess did not object.

"May he pass quickly beyond the Final Gate," the Queen whispered, and her children quickly mumbled the same blessing. "Was he in much pain in the end? We know that he had been suffering for a while, but we hope he was not suffering too much in the end."

"Majesty, his wounds were terrible. There was little that could be done to save him, but we are told that his passing was assisted in the end. He could not take the pain of his wounds any more."

The grief on the Queen's face betrayed her feelings for her old friend's death, yet her eyes remain dry. "Thank you, sirs. We thank you for the message of the Abhorsen's passing. You may leave." The messengers hesitated. "What is wrong? There is something else."

"Aye, Ma'am," another of the messengers said, then took a deep breath. "Begging your pardon, Majesty, but do you remember the Clayr messenger, Yanyl?"

"Yes, she brought us news of the Abhorsen's injuries."

"She...she was found this morning near the settlement of Sindle. It looks as though she was murdered."

Torrigan saw Rogir stiffen in his seat, and this time pain flashed across his face. Torrigan was the only person to know that Rogir and Yanyl had shared a quiet love affair during the Clayr's short stay at the palace, and now she was gone. Dead. The boy looked up, frowning.

"Is there a motive?"

The messenger who had announced the news glanced at him, and his face hardened. Torrigan lifted his chin defiantly, knowing deep down that here was another who knew of the Queen's own affair and obviously disapproved. Well, Torrigan would not let this man make him feel humiliated. The messenger finally bowed his head. "The Clayr think that Yanyl may have Seen something and confided in someone. That person did not like what they heard and so had heard murdered. It was... They say that the the Clayr was far from recognisable when they found her. They think she must have been ambushed by a large group, probably with the skills of Free Magic."

"Poor child," the Queen whispered, shaking her head. "Is that all?" The messengers bowed and left, leaving the Queen to look at her children. Her gaze was sharp and determined. "This constant warring with the Free Magic traitors goes too far. A member of the Great Charter Bloodlines has been killed, and that make us all vulnerable, do you understand? Because of this, I have am ordering you not to leave the palace without telling me first, and only if you have an escort – yes, you too, Rogir. I do not want to see any of my children hurt." The Queen looked directly at Torrigan, who immediately looked away. "Any of you. I could not bear it if any ill befell you."

"We understand, Mother," Rogir replied casually. "I wonder what the Clayr Saw to make someone want to kill her? It must have been very important."

The Queen was about to reply when there was an urgent knock on the door to the room and a pale faced, gasping man stumbled in – another messenger. He bowed quickly, almost falling, then gasped out his message in such a hurry that the family nearly missed it.

"Majesty! There's been another necromantic attack! The whole of the village of Chasel has been slaughtered!"

---

Four years later...

The Bird of Dawning fell spectacularly on its back, sending a line of dancers crashing to the ground like dominoes. A piercing scream of anger sounded from the chief choreographer, Gellgor Radcliffe, stopping the musicians in mid-bar. Thankfully, this was only a rehearsal.

Logan laughed as the Bird tried unsuccessfully to leaver itself to its feet and only managed to push a dancer, who had just managed to get to her feet again, over once more.

"You know, for someone who's such a natural with a blade and moving out the way of getting his head cut off, you're a terrible dancer," Logan laughed cheerfully, seizing the Bird by the shoulders and hoisting him to his feet once more. "Oh, look, you've crumpled your tail feathers!"

The Bird's angry cursing reply was lost in the costume's head. Logan grinned widely and tugged the mask off the neck of the costume, to reveal a red-faced seventeen-year-ol within. "I hate this costume! I'm roasting to death in here!"

"Don't worry, Torrgian," Elsie teased, appearing behind Logan. "You look cute! Mother and Meredith both agree with me!"

"Guards shouldn't look 'cute'," Torrigan muttered angrily, wiping sweat from his forehead. "And its all very well I can swing a blade – I'm not dressed like a bloomin' turkey when I fight, am I!"

"The Bird of Dawning is a crucial part in the festival, Torrigan!" Radcliffe said, aghast. "I will not have you taking out your anger on such a famous part in my dance! You are not trying, boy! The dance of the Bird should be graceful, smooth, elegant." Logan fought back another laugh. "Take Logan and Her Highness here. When they dance, their movements are strong yet smooth, like liquid. They aren't my best dancing pair for nothing, Torrigan! You'll just have to try harder! Now, from the top, everyone!"

"Don't you have a spare watchman needed?" Torrigan begged Logan, as Radcliffe moved away. He was rewarded with the older Guard forcing the mask back over his head back-to-front, so that the Bird spent most of the first few bars of the music trying to get its head facing the right way again. When he finally managed that, Torrigan took one stepped forwards and nearly tripped over another dancer.

All the while, Elsie and Logan started their pairs dance again, watched closely by the dancers waiting to join in the rehearsals from the sides of the hall. The twos' eyes were locked on one another's, their faces glowing with the same joy that had made them the most memorable dancers in the festivals for the past seven years.

"May I speak with you later?" Logan whispered, as Elsie spun in to him. She looked surprised for a moment, but that did not stop her completing the next step. "Please?"

"Francis!" Logan flinched at Radcliffe's yell down the end of the hall. "I want to see some more passion in that dance!"

Logan grumbled in response, then felt a smile twitch the corners of his mouth. It had been fleeting, but it had been there. Elsie had nodded!

It seemed an age before the rehearsals finally finished. Torrigan ditched the Bird of Dawning costume in the changing rooms for his Guard uniform, then he ran from the room. He had another duty to do. Logan didn't. He tied the laces on his boots once more, splashed his face with water, then exited the changing room. Elsie was there, now in a simple yet stylish gown that announced that she was probably required in some court or meeting in a few minutes. Logan took a deep breath, but Elise spoke first.

"I have to meet with some Ambassador of one of the Northern clans with Mother. The Queen's just arrived back from the Clayr's Glacier, so now doubt she'll tell us all about that soon enough. I can't get out of that, and there's a banquet after. I can...see if I can slip away from that, towards the end. We shall speak then, if that is all right?"

Logan hesitated then bowed. "Princess, I shall do as you command." Charter help me, what if I lose my courage before then?

"The fountain? Near the reservoir?"

Logan bowed again, then watched numbly as Elsie hurried off down the hall. He cursed himself bitterly – why hadn't he spoken first? Besides himself, Logan found himself chuckling, if not bitterly. Imagine it: Logan Fancis, not afraid of any foe and yet terrified of speaking to the Princess! A beautiful Princess, for there was now a competition within the court, as well as within the Guard, as to which Princess was the most beautiful. Meredith was still as gorgeous as ever, that was true, but Elsie...

With nothing else to do, Logan began to walk around the halls. He remembered the first time he'd had to dance with Elsie in on of the festivals. She been clearly nervous, but once Logan had managed to get her speaking to him the two had become great friends. Their friendship had grown from strength to strength over the years, and not even Meredith's jealousy had hurt that. Logan had never been able to speak out his true feelings, the feelings that he had refused to except he was feeling for her. Now he could withstand the pain no longer – he had to tell Elsie how he felt. If he didn't, he would spend the rest of his life wondering 'what if?', and that was the last thing he wanted.

The hours crawled on. The fourth hour found Logan already at the fountain of the bearded tritons. Logan watched the sun setting, feeling as though the rays of the dying sun had somehow reached out and seized his heart, determined to drag his Life down to its doom along with the sun. Soon music reached his ears, the sounds of the banquet. Logan took a deep breath, determined to wait and speak. He silently ran through his speech once more, hoping he would get it right and not make a fool of himself.

He opened his eyes. Someone was walking towards him. Logan glanced up and spotted Elsie walking towards him, a shawl wrapped tightly around her slender shoulders. The skirts of her elegantly fitting gown whispered across the grass underfoot, and when she looked up her face reflected the crystal smile of the moon. Logan felt his mouth drop open of its own accord, trying not to admire too openly how the gown hugged the Princess's slender body.

"You look...fantastic, Highness."

Elsie excepted the compliment with a nod. She frowned suddenly, stepping forwards and laying a hand on Logan's cheek. "You're cold. How long have you been out here?"

"Since before sunrise. I really wanted to speak with you, milady. I would have been willing to wait longer if that's what it took to speak with you."

"That was foolished," Elsie said, though she smiled, motioning with her hand for him to speak. "And flattery doesn't become you, Logan. What is that you want to say?"

Here goes nothing. Logan too a deep breath, readying himself to speak. It's now or never, Logan! Nothing can go wrong! Nothing!

---

Oooh, what's he going to say? Maybe it's a little soppy, but oh well! Trust me, this is going to go wrong! Horribly! Haha! I'm so wicked! Llamas, Ginger-Bizkit.