A Boy Named Eto

Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to Garth Nix and whichever
company that also owns this material any characters you don't recognize
belong to me.

Author's Note: This tale takes place after the death of the Disreputable
Dog and the rebinding of the Destroyer.

Chapter 1:

Lamentation

It had been several weeks since the departure of the Disreputable Dog, and Lirael had been grieving silently ever since. However, she was not allowed to wallow in her own sadness, for Nicholas needed to be taught about the Charter. After the rebinding of the Destroyer, Sabriel had invited her newfound sister to stay at the Abhorsen's House instead of returning to the Glacier. "There is no purpose in me staying where I never was entirely accepted," she said then. But to her, and everyone else, that felt as though it were a lifetime ago.

The rest of the Old Kingdom continued on in its own peaceful way, that peace disrupted occasionally with small outbreaks of the Dead and weak Necromancers. Touchstone and Sabriel smoothed the outbreaks over whenever they occurred, which often left them far from home. But they trusted Sam and Ellimere to look after things, and Lirael to look after Nick's recovery. It was one of those days when it was just best to stay inside; the sky was a pearly white and very indecisive about whether or not it wanted to rain.

"Can you move your arm yet?" Lirael asked as she performed a healing spell for the fifth time that day.

"I think so," he replied attempting to bend his elbow. "Ow...okay never mind," he said, wincing in pain, "but at least I can move my fingers right?"

"Yes, that is much better than before." She watched as Nick twisted himself to gaze at the Charter Mark in the mirror.

"I still can't believe all this exists! In all the world of science, not one thing here has followed any logic," he mused, frowning and running his fingers over the mark. It glowed slightly before dimming and becoming nearly invisible against his skin. "I guess I have much to learn about the Charter still..." Lirael nodded as she finished dressing his wounds with both cloth and spell.

She gazed at the golden hand that had now been placed upon her wrist and moved the fingers. Fighting the tears that threatened to overflow, she tried to shove the memories of that nightmare into the back of her mind.

"You know that dog of yours certainly was quite remarkable, saved my life and all. Not a breed I am familiar with but she did go on about something concerning a burden and Free Magic... Do you have any idea what she might have meant?" The young woman shook her head silently, sighing in lament for her only true friend. "Oh come now don't be sad! She certainly wasn't! It was almost as if she might come back into Life...the way she was acting I mean."

"If you two are finished with your trip down Memory Lane, then I suggest you get up and go greet our guests," Mogget said.

"Guests? What guests?" Lirael asked in surprise and turning to the white cat sitting in the doorway.

"What guests...what guests...oh yes, why I believe I'm referring to those people who are waiting for you to move your slow and lazy self downstairs! That's 'what guests'!" he replied, sardonically. With a glare Lirael sped down the stairs and was ushered even faster into the lower parlor by a particularly snappy sending. Mogget padded after her, leaping into an armchair watching the two arrivals carefully. Yet as he did so, Ranna tinkled quietly on his collar causing him to yawn widely and drift off to sleep.

Lirael led the two guests into the parlor. One was a tall, heavily built man with a sword strapped at his side and a large, hooded cloak that obscured the details of his face. Small symbols wriggled and squirmed along the hilt; symbols that were a disgusting mockery of the Charter. They remained unnoticed, as the girl was busy introducing herself to him and his companion. This other guest was quite the contrary to the first, as he was lean and rather short compared to most men. He was garbed in a rusted mail shirt, a tunic of similar coloring over it, and brown trousers tucked into dark leather boots. His face was about as pleasing as the state of his mail shirt. Long thin scars etched their way across his nose and eyes, one of these eyes was a milky white.

"We are in need of your aid, Lady Lirael," the shorter man began in an oily tone, "You see, my companion Gridol, comes from a village that has recently been attacked by a large number of Dead Hands. We feel that it would be in our best interest to seek the aid of such a strong individual like yourself." The man called Gridol shifted slightly in his seat, never meeting her sympathetic gaze.

"Gridol, I'm sure you have lost many family members in this incident, but why are you not back at your village trying to repair the damage?" she asked.

"I-"

"My...my friend here has been so traumatized by all of this that he was unable to even look upon his home!" the man, known as Kirae, interrupted as he pulled off a sickeningly pitiful look. Mogget stirred slightly in his sleep as he sniffed the air, catching a whiff of something highly suspicious from Gridol. However, when he leapt down from the chair to have a closer look at this 'Gidol', Ranna rang softly and sent his mind back into a doze as he sauntered off into the hall. The other shifted in his seat again, apparently uncomfortable with the small white cat.

"So will you lend us aid?" Kirae asked nervously, and perhaps too quickly.

A/N: I hope to update every other day. However, I cannot promise you that as my muse often refuses to work with me. I, for once, actually do have an idea where this story will be going and the chapters may also alternate between Eto and Lirael.

-Renegade