A/N: Tell me if I've overlooked any details from the Trilogy. (Thanks Kasey!!!) I don't have all three books with me, so I can't consult them. PLEASE point them out to me!! E-mail me at weepingdreamer08@yahoo.com or just put them in a review!
Disclaimer: The characters in the Old Kingdom trilogy are still Garth Nix's. ::crosses arms in disappointment and sulks:: But the plot and the new characters are mine! =D (Though I really don't know what the plot shall be anymore, for it has been derailed by a truck load of very minor details.)
"Any signs of improvement, Herim?" a voice asked through her dreams. It was a comforting voice, soft, deep, and warm. She wanted to wrap herself in it, and fall back into a dreamless sleep.
"She's still asleep, Master. Her wounds are healing quite nice, the bruises gone and the swelling down. She's still asleep though. Hasn't awoke in three days, even with the help of the Charter" the old doctor replied. He wanted the girl to wake up. He didn't approve of a stranger aboard the royal ship. Daman seemed blind to the danger.
"She'll wake up, Herim. Give her time to heal more."
"Yes, I know, Master. But I still don't approve of her aboard the royal ship. She'll have to go as soon as possible, Daman!"
The girl took in the conversation with closed eyes. Wounds? Royal ship? Three days? Why would she be dreaming of this? Or better yet, why would she be living this?
She stirred, and to them, it appeared in sleep. Then, she remembered. She felt the scabs on her sides and her back protest to the moving. She winced and tried to lift her head. It objected, so it lay still on the pillow. She opened her eyes, blinded by the brightness.
In front of her were two faces. One was an old man, wrinkles lining his tanned leather skin. His long white hair was tied at the back of his neck, and he was dressed well. The man beside him was dressed well also. He was younger, his face tanned but not as weathered. He was handsome, his sandy hair smooth and a smile danced on his lips. She felt as if she'd seen him before, but she couldn't quite place him.
"Hello," the younger one said cheerfully. "Are you feeling okay?"
She tried to speak, but found her throat dry and scratchy. The old man dipped a ladle into a bucket of water, and he handed it to her carefully. She drank the sweetness quickly, then begged for more. She devoured the second one just as quick and was finally able to speak, her vocal cords ready for exercise.
"I am fine, yes. Thank you. Have you been taking care of me?" she asked the younger one. Her chuckled, and shook his head.
"Herim here is the doctor. You should be thanking him," he gestured to his old friend, and she nodded her thanks to him.
"I am Daman, and as you know, Herim is the doctor. Do you have a name, miss?"
"Beyln. My name is Belyn."
"Belyn. Very pretty. Suits your image." The girl blushed, and she turned away. "We'll need to return you to your family, Belyn. They'll probably be waiting for you."
"I have no family." Belyn hung her head, prepared from them to taunt her. She was prepared not to cry, not to let them see her hurt. If only she would've done better with that merchant…
"Oh," Daman's eyes fell, and he seemed embarrassed. Herim, seeing his master's distress, quickly covered for him.
"Miss, do you mean you have no family, or you're just on your own?" Herim asked, his face taking on a softer light.
Belyn raised her head in defiance. "I have no family, sir. I have been alone since the orphanage let me go when I was nine. I do not know if they are alive or not."
"How old are you now?" Herim asked, his voice reaching out to embrace her, to wipe away her tears and take away her shame.
"I believe I am 16. My birth date is unknown, just estimated." Daman's attention span became wider, as any young man's would.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was Herim's granddaughter, the woman hired to see to the orphan. She wore a simple brown dress and a hood over her head. Her long brown hair was tucked beneath it's confines, revealing only her eyes.
"Hello, Sara," Herim said, greeting his granddaughter with a warm hug. She smiled over his shoulder to Daman, a cat like smile that carried an obvious hint. Daman looked away, his cheeks warming with heated blood. From the bed, Belyn saw the smile and wondered their relationship.
"Sara, this is Belyn. You can finally be introduced properly." Herim led the young maid to Belyn's side, where she sat opposite to Daman. He stood up, a little too quickly, and Sara, though hurt, turned her attention to Belyn.
The two chatted easily, but Belyn's answers were short, for her throat had grown dry again. Sara poured a ladle of water down her throat knowingly, and the girl smiled back her thanks.
Daman and Herim excused themselves as Sara began to prepare a large tub with hot water. Belyn lay back in the warm bed, resting while Sara worked.
Daman leaned against his ship's rail, breathing in the sea's air. He loved the sea, the smell of its salts and the rocking of its gentle waves. He loved the protection it offered from the Dead and their wrath. Nothing Dead could touch him here, and only here he felt safe.
Daman, much like his Uncle Sameth, despised Death. Sam, years earlier, had discovered that he was not the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, rather a Wallmaker. Lirael was Sam's aunt, and she was the true Abhorsen-in-Waiting then. Now, she was the Abhorsen. Sabriel was older now and had long ago given up her claim to the title of Abhorsen. Though she still let her bells ring, they lay dormant for most of the year. She mourned now, over the loss of her King, Touchstone. Touchstone had been the Old Kingdom's greatest King in years, protecting them from Ancelstierre's prying. But, he had been killed by an a stray bullet from an Ancelstierrian gun when Daman was just a young child. He remembered only vaugely his grandfather, and the only image he could recall was the painting hung in Sabriel's bedroom.
Sameth still kept the pipes his Aunt Lirael, Sabriel's sister, had given him. He used them from time to time, only to help the Abhorsen, but like his mother's bells, they too lay dormant. Sam still worked in his shed by the castle, and it had expanded from the tiny little shack to accommodate the Wallmaker. He'd fashioned a golden hand for Lirael, giving her her last name: Goldenhand.
Sanar and Ryelle still Saw with the Clayr. Their long blonde hair was streaked with gray, and their bodies not as nimble. Kibeth still remained in Death, much to Lirael's dismay. She missed her furry friend and was often caught holding the soapstone statue. Yrael had taken on Mogget's cat form again, and was seen a few times keeping guard of the castle.
Lirael had married Nick. He was learning Charter Magic, and was accepted because of the mark Kibeth had given him. They led a happy life - Nick as a scientist and Lirael as the Abhorsen. They made quite a pair, with her advanced abilities with her Magic and his brilliant mind. Lirael's job gave her no time to bear children, so she and Nick lived alone.
Ellimere, his mother, had become Queen after Touchstone died. Sabriel refused to rule the Kingdom without her husband, and had handed down her reign to her daughter. Ellimere was a young Queen, but one of the Kingdom's best. Within a year of becoming the Queen, she had met a merchant who traded with the Clayr on a visit to the Glacier. His name was Gregory, and he and Ellimere lived and ruled together happily with a son and two daughters
Daman sat thinking about the past 16 years. He and his sisters often wondered who would be the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Daman hoped it wasn't he, often wishing to be a Wallmaker like his Uncle Sam. He stood up from the railing, and turned around. He rested his hands on the rail, and leaned forward. The wind blew in his face, rushed through his loose clothing and rustled his hair.
Daman lifted his chin in defiance. He'd seen the shame on Belyn's face, and had heard it in her voice. Daman wished now to shared his confidence with her, what little he seemed to possess compared to his sisters. He vowed he would help her find her family, or at least what remained of them, preserved in history. He would wait until morning to set sail, but then his journey would begin.
A/N: I know, it's short. Very short, compared to the last chapter. I may change it, if I like my other idea for this chapter better. I'm going to think about it, and edit it. Please review, tell me what I can change or tell me any details from the Trilogy that I've overlooked!!!
Disclaimer: The characters in the Old Kingdom trilogy are still Garth Nix's. ::crosses arms in disappointment and sulks:: But the plot and the new characters are mine! =D (Though I really don't know what the plot shall be anymore, for it has been derailed by a truck load of very minor details.)
"Any signs of improvement, Herim?" a voice asked through her dreams. It was a comforting voice, soft, deep, and warm. She wanted to wrap herself in it, and fall back into a dreamless sleep.
"She's still asleep, Master. Her wounds are healing quite nice, the bruises gone and the swelling down. She's still asleep though. Hasn't awoke in three days, even with the help of the Charter" the old doctor replied. He wanted the girl to wake up. He didn't approve of a stranger aboard the royal ship. Daman seemed blind to the danger.
"She'll wake up, Herim. Give her time to heal more."
"Yes, I know, Master. But I still don't approve of her aboard the royal ship. She'll have to go as soon as possible, Daman!"
The girl took in the conversation with closed eyes. Wounds? Royal ship? Three days? Why would she be dreaming of this? Or better yet, why would she be living this?
She stirred, and to them, it appeared in sleep. Then, she remembered. She felt the scabs on her sides and her back protest to the moving. She winced and tried to lift her head. It objected, so it lay still on the pillow. She opened her eyes, blinded by the brightness.
In front of her were two faces. One was an old man, wrinkles lining his tanned leather skin. His long white hair was tied at the back of his neck, and he was dressed well. The man beside him was dressed well also. He was younger, his face tanned but not as weathered. He was handsome, his sandy hair smooth and a smile danced on his lips. She felt as if she'd seen him before, but she couldn't quite place him.
"Hello," the younger one said cheerfully. "Are you feeling okay?"
She tried to speak, but found her throat dry and scratchy. The old man dipped a ladle into a bucket of water, and he handed it to her carefully. She drank the sweetness quickly, then begged for more. She devoured the second one just as quick and was finally able to speak, her vocal cords ready for exercise.
"I am fine, yes. Thank you. Have you been taking care of me?" she asked the younger one. Her chuckled, and shook his head.
"Herim here is the doctor. You should be thanking him," he gestured to his old friend, and she nodded her thanks to him.
"I am Daman, and as you know, Herim is the doctor. Do you have a name, miss?"
"Beyln. My name is Belyn."
"Belyn. Very pretty. Suits your image." The girl blushed, and she turned away. "We'll need to return you to your family, Belyn. They'll probably be waiting for you."
"I have no family." Belyn hung her head, prepared from them to taunt her. She was prepared not to cry, not to let them see her hurt. If only she would've done better with that merchant…
"Oh," Daman's eyes fell, and he seemed embarrassed. Herim, seeing his master's distress, quickly covered for him.
"Miss, do you mean you have no family, or you're just on your own?" Herim asked, his face taking on a softer light.
Belyn raised her head in defiance. "I have no family, sir. I have been alone since the orphanage let me go when I was nine. I do not know if they are alive or not."
"How old are you now?" Herim asked, his voice reaching out to embrace her, to wipe away her tears and take away her shame.
"I believe I am 16. My birth date is unknown, just estimated." Daman's attention span became wider, as any young man's would.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was Herim's granddaughter, the woman hired to see to the orphan. She wore a simple brown dress and a hood over her head. Her long brown hair was tucked beneath it's confines, revealing only her eyes.
"Hello, Sara," Herim said, greeting his granddaughter with a warm hug. She smiled over his shoulder to Daman, a cat like smile that carried an obvious hint. Daman looked away, his cheeks warming with heated blood. From the bed, Belyn saw the smile and wondered their relationship.
"Sara, this is Belyn. You can finally be introduced properly." Herim led the young maid to Belyn's side, where she sat opposite to Daman. He stood up, a little too quickly, and Sara, though hurt, turned her attention to Belyn.
The two chatted easily, but Belyn's answers were short, for her throat had grown dry again. Sara poured a ladle of water down her throat knowingly, and the girl smiled back her thanks.
Daman and Herim excused themselves as Sara began to prepare a large tub with hot water. Belyn lay back in the warm bed, resting while Sara worked.
Daman leaned against his ship's rail, breathing in the sea's air. He loved the sea, the smell of its salts and the rocking of its gentle waves. He loved the protection it offered from the Dead and their wrath. Nothing Dead could touch him here, and only here he felt safe.
Daman, much like his Uncle Sameth, despised Death. Sam, years earlier, had discovered that he was not the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, rather a Wallmaker. Lirael was Sam's aunt, and she was the true Abhorsen-in-Waiting then. Now, she was the Abhorsen. Sabriel was older now and had long ago given up her claim to the title of Abhorsen. Though she still let her bells ring, they lay dormant for most of the year. She mourned now, over the loss of her King, Touchstone. Touchstone had been the Old Kingdom's greatest King in years, protecting them from Ancelstierre's prying. But, he had been killed by an a stray bullet from an Ancelstierrian gun when Daman was just a young child. He remembered only vaugely his grandfather, and the only image he could recall was the painting hung in Sabriel's bedroom.
Sameth still kept the pipes his Aunt Lirael, Sabriel's sister, had given him. He used them from time to time, only to help the Abhorsen, but like his mother's bells, they too lay dormant. Sam still worked in his shed by the castle, and it had expanded from the tiny little shack to accommodate the Wallmaker. He'd fashioned a golden hand for Lirael, giving her her last name: Goldenhand.
Sanar and Ryelle still Saw with the Clayr. Their long blonde hair was streaked with gray, and their bodies not as nimble. Kibeth still remained in Death, much to Lirael's dismay. She missed her furry friend and was often caught holding the soapstone statue. Yrael had taken on Mogget's cat form again, and was seen a few times keeping guard of the castle.
Lirael had married Nick. He was learning Charter Magic, and was accepted because of the mark Kibeth had given him. They led a happy life - Nick as a scientist and Lirael as the Abhorsen. They made quite a pair, with her advanced abilities with her Magic and his brilliant mind. Lirael's job gave her no time to bear children, so she and Nick lived alone.
Ellimere, his mother, had become Queen after Touchstone died. Sabriel refused to rule the Kingdom without her husband, and had handed down her reign to her daughter. Ellimere was a young Queen, but one of the Kingdom's best. Within a year of becoming the Queen, she had met a merchant who traded with the Clayr on a visit to the Glacier. His name was Gregory, and he and Ellimere lived and ruled together happily with a son and two daughters
Daman sat thinking about the past 16 years. He and his sisters often wondered who would be the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. Daman hoped it wasn't he, often wishing to be a Wallmaker like his Uncle Sam. He stood up from the railing, and turned around. He rested his hands on the rail, and leaned forward. The wind blew in his face, rushed through his loose clothing and rustled his hair.
Daman lifted his chin in defiance. He'd seen the shame on Belyn's face, and had heard it in her voice. Daman wished now to shared his confidence with her, what little he seemed to possess compared to his sisters. He vowed he would help her find her family, or at least what remained of them, preserved in history. He would wait until morning to set sail, but then his journey would begin.
A/N: I know, it's short. Very short, compared to the last chapter. I may change it, if I like my other idea for this chapter better. I'm going to think about it, and edit it. Please review, tell me what I can change or tell me any details from the Trilogy that I've overlooked!!!