The Abhorsen's Sword by The Wallmaker

Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: This plot is my own, the characters are my own, but titles, most locations, and Charter Magic are not mine. I do not own the Old Kingdom or anything related. Everything belongs to Garth Nix. This is simply a fan fiction, and no profit is being made off of this short story. "Imitation is the best expression of flattery." So there.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Carmerethiel and to Narn for reviewing!

Narn… I meant that the bits of wire hit the floor with a "tink" sound. It was a bit unclear the way I wrote it, it did sound like I was saying that the Charter Marks made the sound. But I thank you for that bit of criticism.

Thanks so much to the both of you for your reviews. It's so encouraging! I hope you enjoy the rest of this fic! (Don't know when it will be done, but hey, an update is good, right?)

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Nathaniel laboured for several hours to fashion the new blade for the Abhorsen. His room was covered in soot from the coal forge, he was covered in it, and the woman Yasmel was covered in it, for she brought the blade from the Palace's armouries and stayed to watch the process.

She murmured in fascination at times, astounded by Nathaniel's absurd, but effective way of casting Charter Magic. His hands moved more differently than anyone she had ever seen, and he pronounced Marks differently, as well. Yasmel observed the entire process, and near the end of it, she was getting weary. She didn't know how this young man could sit there for hours on end, shaping a blade without getting tired.

Nathaniel, in fact, was barely present. Almost in a trance, he cast half-known Charter Marks. They flew out of his hammer and bounced on the anvil as he shaped the steel. They seemed to soak into the red hot metal as he murmered their names. The Charter filled his mind; he forgot that a Daughter of the Clayr was watching him as he shaped the metal and cast spells for sharpness, for strength and for breaking. He brought the blade over to the grindstone to sharpen it, one of the final steps. Sparks and Charter Marks flew from the blade as the stone ground it to a sharp edge. Charter Marks swam and shone on the blade, and Nathaniel sliced the inside of his arm and let the blood run down the furrow in the blade's centre, where it absorbed into the metal. Yasmel jumped as the blade bit Nathaniel's arm, but realized what he needed to do that for. It was a large blade, and much Charter Magic was worked on it. A price had to be paid for it's creation.

The Charter faded from his mind as Nathaniel, at last, wrapped the hilt with leather and capped the sword with a pommel of metal, which he polished to a gleam with a spell issued from his cupped hand. He handed the sword to the Clayr sitting on his bed, and promptly fainted. He did not come to until the morning.

Queen Lorileth studied the plain-looking dagger. It was not recognizable as the one that she had given her son a few years before. Charter Marks shimmered as she sheathed it. She loaded it into her pack and started into the city of Belisaere, to see the blacksmiths.

The official announcement of the night before about the Abhorsen's death put the city and the countryside into a panic. Windows were shuttered, and doors were barred. Merchants had taken their goods inside, and shored up their booths. Only furious knocking and a declaration by the Royal Guards that the Queen was here would have people upen up their doors; but the only doors they knocked on were those of the blacksmiths.

The blacksmiths, having already been visited by Faralie, had half an idea of what was going on, and when Queen Lorileth showed them Nathaniel's dagger, they agreed to try. Only one blacksmith was completely honest with the Queen. He told her in a quiet voice that he had never seen such a blade, and would be completely astounded if he could wrought something of such magic and power. He told her that he would try his hardest, but wasn't sure if he could even come close. Queen Lorileth thanked him for his services and paid him very highly, as she did with all of the other blacksmiths.

Walking through the barren streets, she pondered her son and his abilities. The people who were known as the Wallmakers, people of the Blood, had not been gone for all that long, five generations ago were the last ones that the Queen knew about from stories and tales from her parents and their parents. As she thought about Nathaniel, she felt the spells in the dagger's blade. Advanced Charter Magic. Lorileth didn't know if she could cast these without harming herself. She put the dagger back into her bag,

The blacksmiths in the great city of Belisaere laboured for many hours, attempting to make a blade with Charter Magic. Only one succeeded, but it took him two days, and the Master Charter Marks burnt his hammer and his hands as they were spelled into the blade. When he was done, the blade was a mess, his hands were damaged and he was completely exhausted, and it took weeks for him to be nursed back to health.

Yasmel poured the contents of a small vial out in front of her, and with a wave of her hand, Charter Marks glimmered and the liquid froze into a sheet that hung in the air. She sat on the foot of Nathaniel's bed. Nathaniel was sprawled out in it, sleeping deeply. One of the nurses from the infirmary checked in on him every few moments, quietly doing her duty and then receeding to the corner of the room where she pretended that she wasn't paying any attention to the white-robed Daughter of the Clayr sitting on her charge's bed. Yasmel ignored her, for she was intent on Seeing her possible futures. She wanted to remain with Nathaniel when he delivered the blade to the Abhorsen, but the possible futures springing from that might not be desirable. So she watched, her eyes staring only at the sheet of ice that the nurse could not see anything on.

In the Vision, Yasmel watched herself remain with Nathaniel, for if she didn't, the blade would never be delivered to the Abhorsen. But Yasmel noticed that though the swords they were using were like the Abhorsen's, the one made for Tirylese was in a scabbard hung on Nathaniel's back. Two more blades would be required. As the vision faded from Yasmel's pane of ice, she hung her head. Two more swords! Nathaniel was exhausted from the first! As she shook her head in dismay, the nurse, long forgotten in the corner of the room, stood up suddenly. As the nurse came towards the bed, Yasmel noticed the the covers were shifting and that Nathaniel was slowly waking up. Yasmel stood and watched as the prince pushed the covers back and reached for the crystal pitcher of water on the bedside table. He poured himself a glass of water before he remembered that there were two strange women in his bedroom and that he was nearly naked. Looking down at himself, he was very glad to see that he hadn't pushed the covers down very far. Sighing in relief, he looked up at Yasmel, who he was surprised to see was not well. She was pale, and seemed reluctant to look at him.

"What is it?" Nathaniel asked, as he tried to politely push the over-attentive nurse away.

Yasmel was slow to answer him. She looked at the frustrated nurse who was trying to force a shirt onto an unco-operative Nathaniel. "I Saw a part of our future. We must ride through the Kingdom to deliver the blade. I cannot See where the Abhorsen will be at that time, but we must leave here soon. But, before we do…" she stopped and looked at Nathaniel before continuing, "two more of your Charter Spelled blades must be made. One for each of us. I am sorry." Yasmel finished off in a whisper and glanced up at Nathaniel.

Nathaniels first impulse was to tell this Clayr that her Sight must be wrong, because there wasn't any way that he could do this. It was simply not possible. He stopped himself, and thought for a moment with his hands steepled under his chin. He sighed and let the nurse put the shirt on him. "All right. I'll get started. I'll need help. Get some Charter Mages. They can help me while I forge the blades." He looked at the Daughter of the Clayr that was standing at the foot of his bed, utterly amazed. He himself couldn't believe that he was saying this. He got up, unmindful that he was nearly naked, and pulled his pants on before pouring more coal into the forge and lighting it.

"Yasmel, please get for me two blades from the armouries." Nathaniel turned to the nurse and dismissed her after thanking her for her services. She bowed curtly and left the prince alone in his workshop. He buried his head in his hands, and hoped to the Charter that this turned out all right.

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