Chapter 5

Four thousand twenty-eight, four thousand twenty-nine, four thousand thirty.

'Oh what does it matter?' thought Lirael bitterly. She had started counting her steps, reverting back to an ancient habit, at least three hours ago. Or what seemed like three hours ago. Lirael could never be certain of the time in Death. It flowed differently here than in the living world. She was pondering why this might happen (in a desperate attempt to keep her mind off of reality) when the entire company came to an abrupt stop. Lirael nearly tripped it was so sudden, though the Dead Hand clinging to her shoulders did not help her balance.

It appeared that Chlorr was silently surveying the spot. She was standing very still, arms to her sides. After a moment or two, Chlorr nodded to herself. A small speck of light appeared in front of her and steadily grew, soon engulfing the entire group in intense brightness. Lirael found herself in her human body once more, breathing in the rancid stench of the creature that had been carrying her. She was very cold, and her teeth started to chatter wildly. It was practically a blizzard where they had emerged, and coupled with the fact that ice envelops whoever travels into Death, Lirael was surprised she hadn't already collapsed from the freezing temperatures. She stole a glance back at Sam and Nick, and instantly noticed that they both looked much older, for their hair and eyebrows were completely white, covered with snow. Lirael guessed that she wasn't much better off, and sure enough, when she tried furrowing her brows, she had a hard time of it and eventually heard the faint cracking of a thin sheet of ice. Chlorr was shouting something, but Lirael could not understand a word, until, unexpectedly, the Dead Hand behind her cut the ropes binding her arms. She quickly hugged them around herself to try and keep in any warmth, but within a moment she was holding her hands up in front of her face, horrorstruck. They were tinged with a sickly blue, and had had large black splotches in some places. It was from the cold, Lirael knew, but it was still rather shocking. She wondered how much else of her looked like this.

There was a large creaking sound up ahead. Lirael looked up. Chlorr was forcing a giant door that was built into the mountainside to open with Free Magic. Lirael squinted hard.

She knew that door.

It led directly to the Lower Refectory. But it couldn't be. Why would they be breaking into the Clayr's Glacier? Why-

Lirael's thoughts were cut short as she was forced to march forward. It seemed as if the Dead Hands attending to Sam and Nick had sped up a bit, because within a matter of seconds they were both at her side.

"What is that dirty necromancer think she's doing?" spat Nick, his words greatly obscured by severely chattering teeth. Lirael noticed that his skin was so blue it almost matched his eyes, "Dragging us through freezing temperatures to some unknown place? It's idiotic!"

"This place isn't unknown to the people of the Old Kingdom," said Sam, glancing at Lirael. She nodded, but did not speak. Sam continued.

"This is the Clayr's Glacier."

A look of comprehension passed over Nick's face, followed by alarm.

"But you've said..Lirael's said...the Clayr are against Free Magic. Why is she-"

"She's done something," whispered Lirael, "I know she's done something.."

They were very close to the doors now.

"But what would Chlorr want here?" asked Nick, repressing a particularly large shiver.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Sam, "The Clayr have the Sight. Chlorr probably wants to see some event that happens in the future."

"But there's no way a necromancer could convince the Clayr."

"What if the necromancer had hostages?" said Sam darkly. Nick did not say anything else.

Lirael felt her insides began to writhe. She knew that something beyond her worst fears lay just up ahead. She could sense the slightest tinge of death on the air. Recent death. Her footsteps were nearing the threshold. Lirael almost wanted to close her eyes; to escape from what she knew awaited her. Se did not want to see the Clayr dead. They had cared for her. Sheltered her. And even though it was mixed with that of the Abhorsen, their blood coursed through her veins. But it was too late for her to look away. As if in a dream, Lirael watched her feet step from snow covered earth to sodden carpet. The sound of biting wind echoed through the ruined hall. Throughout the fallen columns, and the rubble, lay the bodies of many women. There were the old, and there were the young. Some of their eyes still were open, awake yet without life. Lirael felt despair wash over her like a wave. It was relentless, tearing at her. Her legs began to tremble, and she fell to her knees, unable to cry, unable to speak. She stared out at the massacre, pure terror in her gaze. No. It can't be.. She looked wildly around, as if the answer would somehow show itself. And then she froze. She was staring at a Clayr, her white robes dirty and smeared with blood. Her hair covered her face, but Lirael still knew her. She knew her stature. She knew every ring that adorned her fingers. She would have known the booming voice, had she spoken.

It was Kirrith.

Lirael began to crawl to her, silent tears beginning to stream down her face. None of it was happening. It couldn't be. Lireal's fingertips grazed across Kirriths' icy cheek. Her spirit was slipping away. It was still there, but barely. Like the flame of a candle that is about to go out.

Kirriths' eyelids flickered, and slowly the opened. They began to mist over as Lirael's face once more bloomed in front of her.

"Lirael," she whispered, "Lirael.."

Lirael could not find the words. The tears stung as they poured out of her eyes.

"You..you came back.."

The edges of Kirriths' mouth moved as she tried to smile. Lirael buried her head in her aunts' shoulder, shaking. And then, Kirrith was gone.

There was no sound.

Lirael turned, still on her knees. Everyone had stopped. They were watching her. The only one she saw, though, was Chlorr. What passed for her face seemed as if it was somehow mocking her, taking vile pleasure in her pain. She was responsible for this. This murder. Without thinking, Lirael began, in her mind, to string together Charter Marks. Master marks. The false skin on her hand peeled off in a flurry of magic, revealing the gold that lay underneath it.

No one had any time to react.

A blinding flash of light tore throughout the hall. The moans of the Dead were earsplitting as their temporary bodies were transformed into dust. Nick and Sam barely saved themselves, slightly singed as they both dove behind a pile of rubble. And then, as soon as it begun, the spell ended. Sam peered out from their shelter.

"We've got to go, Nick," he said, a slight note of urgency in his voice, "The Dead are beginning to see that there are bodies everywhere. We have to go somewhere they won't be able to find us."

"What happened to Chlorr?" Nick asked, nodding to show he understood all of what Sam had just said.

"I don't know, but that's not important right now. Get Lirael, and then we'll go through that open spot."

The two readied themselves, and then Sam shouted,

"NOW!"

They darted across the hall, Nick stopping to delicately hoist Lirael into his arms. Then they were gone, leaving their captors behind.

"Let us begin!" Sanar and Ryelle shouted to the gathered Clayr.

"Let us begin!"

Lirael could hear their voices, could see them, but it was all as if it was coming through a fog.

"Let us See!" cried Sanar and Ryelle, their ivory wands clashing together.

And then Charter marks were everywhere, traveling up every body, illuminating the walls. Swirling, moving to the ceiling, where they met in a sea of gold. The Clayrs' arms were raised to the sky.

"Look," whispered Ryelle, suddenly holding a green bottle.

"Learn," said Sanar, waving her wand in swift, careful motions above Lirael's head.

And then without warning, Ryelle threw the contents of the bottle at Lirael. She screamed. That was how she awoke.

She did not even try to stop the crying. Lirael buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. She knew that her memory was possibly the last Watch that would ever happen. The Clayr were destroyed. The future was clouded.

Lirael did not know how long she stayed like that; thinking only dark thoughts, believing that hope had never existed. But ever so slowly, her mind started to rebel against the grief.

No. You must go on. Push back the sorrow. Block out the pain. Weep for them later. Now is not the time.

And although Lirael's eyes were still brimming with tears, bit by bit she began to recompose herself. She forced the misery to retreat, deep into the place it would lay hidden until she could reopen the wound. She started to asses her surrounding. To her astonishment, she found that she recognized them. These were the chambers of the Chief Librarian. There was no mistaking the size of the bed on which she sat, or the massive window that was now broken. She recalled everything so well, so vividly. And suddenly images of the Clayr flooded into her mind. Lirael gave a choking moan and began to pound on her head, trying to banish what she had so desperately been trying to forget. They wouldn't leave. Already she was howling. She felt the wild cries welling up inside of her, ready to break out-

And then, the madness had passed. Lirael could feel firm hands on both her shoulders, hear her name being called. Lirael looked up and found herself staring into the very worried eyes of Nick. She could see the emotions running under the brilliant blue.

"Lirael?" he whispered, as if hesitant to speak to her, "Lirael? Are you all right?"

Lirael tried to reply, but the words stung her Charter-burned throat. All she could manage was a mangled "Yes." Nick didn't seem to be entirely content with this answer, though he brought his hands down.

"I'm glad to see you're awake," he said, sitting down next to her, "Sam and I thought that it would take much longer. That was some amazingly powerful magic you used out there, and I'm surprised you recovered so quickly."

Lirael, eyes closed, nodded faintly to show she understood. She could not bring herself to look at him. The color of his eyes was shared with too many Clayr, and she was once again trying to repress all thoughts of them.

Nick wasn't exactly sure of what to say. The situation was familiar, certainly, but all of his thoughts of the previous time seemed to have left him. He had never been good around those who had lost someone. He just sort of sat there, willing to offer an embrace and perhaps some clumsy words of comfort. But maybe that was all she needed. Nick bit his lip. If only he knew what hesitant words to say.

"You're positive you're all right?" he said, unable to come up with anything else.

Lirael felt as if she had recovered enough. She willed herself to look at Nick, almost like a test. She found she couldn't take her eyes away. She had never been this close to his face before. She just stared at him, mouth slightly ajar. Neither of them moved, both stunned by the other. They were so close, so very close..

Sam almost fell into the room, clutching the doorway for support. He looked very frightened and pale, and was pointing a shaking finger towards the hallway.

"Something.." he stammered, "Something's coming.."

Lirael and Nick were both on their feet now, having pulled apart as soon as Sam had entered. It seemed as if nothing had happened between them.

"We should go deeper in" said Nick, bounding to the doorway to see if he could see whatever Sam was talking about, "They won't be able to find us if they don't know they're way around."

His head turned back to Lirael before he stuck it out into the hall. "You're leading."

Lirael tried to reply, but Sam interrupted her.

"It's not them," he said desperately, "I don't know what it is. It's..it's massive.."

"Oh.." said Nick meekly, sliding back in looking very scared himself, "That..that is..what is that?"

There was the sound of a sword being pulled from a scabbard. Nick and Sam immediately hunted for the source, and were astonished to see Lirael clutching the hilt of a massive weapon.

"Where did you get that?" asked Nick, sounding jealous and impressed at the same time. He kept glancing nervously out of the door.

Lirael lifted the sword to a more elegant position. So it no longer resisted her touch.

"This is Binder," she said, "Sister of Nehima. It's an ancient blade, made by the Wallmakers. We'll need something like this."

She extended her arm, using Binder to emphasize her words. All the memories of the Clayr had been buried. Tears would no longer pour from her eyes. She was stronger than that.

"We go," she said, "to the Great Library of the Clayr."

Authors' Note: And so ends Chapter Six (technically Chapter Five, if you don't count the epilogue). It's a bit rushed, I know, but it's better than it once was. I completely rewrote it to get it somewhere where I actually thought it was decent. Perhaps I'll make it better one day, but for now, since I haven't updated in a very long time, I think it's important that the story moves along. I'm sure a lot of you Lirael/Nick people probably hate Sam right now. He just had to come in and ruin a "romantic moment." And as for the thing that's out in the hallway, well, I'll just tell you it's a creature that I found in the books. That's all for now. I have to begin on Chapter 7! I'd like to thank everyone for the reviews (I love reviews, and to CrystalDragonfly: Hope the periods work) and hope that you keep sending them! Thanks a bunch!