The Abhorsen's Sword
Chapter 8
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the concepts of the Old Kingdom, Charter Magic or Free Magic. They belong to Garth Nix (all hail!) The characters and plot are mine.
A/N: Sorry for the cliff-hanger type ending of Ch.7. I couldn't think of a better way to finish it off. As always, praise and/or constructive criticism is very much appreciated!! Please review! Anyhow, on with Chapter 8!
The River Ratterlin surged with the ferocious gusts of wind, and the small form that was Yasmel floated downstream, amidst the large golden flashes that were the Dead falling into the water. Nathaniel spat out water, and rubbed it out of his eyes, bobbing in the current as he searched for Yasmel. He spied her lavender surcoat and grabbed for it, hauling her over to him. Gently lifting her head out of the water, he looked at her face. River water mixed in with the blood on her cheeks and trickled into her fair blonde hair. Flinching as a wave threatened to push them under, Nathaniel clutched at Yasmel, pulling her closer. Kicking furiously, holding her with one hand and paddling with the other, Nathaniel battled the current and the waves. A large piece of the dock drifted by, and Nathaniel swam after it and grabbed it. After he pushed Yasmel up onto it, he held on and floated in the water a bit, relaxing. Once he had rested for awhile, Nathaniel steered them to the opposite bank, glancing back at the Dead, and the flashing on the water. As he swam, Yasmel moaned, and Nathaniel peered up fearfully. She was still unconscious. Nathaniel renewed his efforts, and spoke softly to Yasmel, reassuring both her and himself that the opposite shore would be reached soon.
The pack on his back was sodden, and the hilt of the Abhorsen's sword was painfully digging into his neck. There were splinters in his hands and forearms from the wood of the dock. His leg muscles were cramping and spasming as he pushed them to keep kicking, so it was a tremendous relief to get to the shore of the Ratterlin across from Qyrre. The wood of their makeshift raft scraped roughly along the worn rounded stones at the bottom of the river, and Nathaniel pushed it up onto the land. Staggering up out of the water, his legs gave out and he fell to the smooth rocks. The rain had lessened to a light drizzle, and it washed the dirt from his face. If not for the smell of Free Magic in it, the rain would have been refreshing.
Crawling on all fours, he reached Yasmel, who had come to and was groggily looking around. Her nose was bloody and crooked, but it was the wounds on her chest and arms that concerned Nathaniel. The redness and inflammation was severe, and the wounds on her forearms were raw and already starting to look infected. Nathaniel stared at the blood stained insigna of the Clayr on her lavender surcoat, marshalling his strength to reach into the Charter and cast healing spells. He was distracted by a sudden movement, and was startled to see Yasmel jump up and lurch over to the small green bushes that lined the forest. She hung onto a small birch tree for support while she bent over and threw up. She was on her way back to Nathaniel when she passed out again. Nathaniel flinched when she hit the stony ground. He crawled over to her.
Nathaniel held out his sword and Charter marks flared on it as he cast the North Mark for a Diamond of Protection. He was nearing complete exhaustion as the West Mark flowed out of his blade to the rocky earth, completing the spell. He decided to cast the Diamond before he cast healing spells. He had feared that after casting the healing spells, he wouldn't have the energy to complete the Diamond. Seeing as how he barely had the energy to complete their Diamond of Protection, it was probably a good thing that he cast it first. Sighing, he moved to re-sheathe his sword. Charter marks flashed and Nathaniel noticed etching on the blade; "The Clayr Saw me, the Wallmaker forged me, the King quenched me, the Royal line will wield me." He had only heard of the Ancient Wallmakers, the ones who had constructed the Wall separating Anclestierre and the Kingdom, and the Charter Stones. They were a Blood line, like the Abhorsens or the Clayr. Or Royalty, Nathaniel thought. He sat pondering beside Yasmel as he shepherded strength to cast healing spells.
Other Types of Free Magic Elementals and Creatures
Jakomes are an advanced, but uncommon type of Free Magic creature. Their sense of direction is second to none, and their strategic planning skills are never lacking. A skeletal, man-like shape, the Jakome has the head of an overlarge raven, with glowing silver eyes and a beak that can rend and tear nearly anything. Very intelligent creatures, they cannot be destroyed by Charter Magic. They can be weakened though, and sent back into Death. The eyes are the weakest points of the creature, and so the Jakome is very defensive of them. If one is able to penetrate the eyes with a Charter blade, or a spelled oaken dagger, it will be relatively easy to force the creature back into the deeper realms of Death.
If one is not able to pierce the eyes, sending the creature into Death is more complicated, but possible, nevertheless. It requires the warrior to enter into Death, leaving their bodies well guarded in a Diamond of Protection, or hidden far from the creatures physical form. The creature must be lured into Death, and subdued with the counter-ringing (or counter-piping) of Mosrael, and the ringing (or piping) of Saraneth. Saraneth will bind the Jakome to the warrior's will for it to pass the Ninth. Mosrael will greatly affect the Free Magic creature, as the Jakome relies on it's intelligence more than Magic or physical strength, and the counter-ringing will profoundly change the creature's ability to think, plan or reason. The Jakome must be fought in Death, for the bells (or pipes) do not have a noticed effect on it in Life.
Tirylese had opportunity to read the Bestiary that she had stuffed into her pack at nightfall, within her Diamond of Protection. Lit by a tiny Charter light, she leaned closer to the page, and sighed deeply. She missed her uncle, but having something to focus on made the ache of grief subside for a while. Reading about the creatures that her uncle had seen at Albalef was frightening. She had never encountered a Jakome before, and the large leather-bound volume that lay open on her lap did not encourage her. "Counter-ringing of Mosrael?" Tirylese shut her eyes. That in itself was dangerous. Doing so while pitted against a strong Free Magic creature? Impossible. Tirylese studied the page on Jakomes once more before closing the book and lying down for a fitful sleep.
Yasmel awoke from a deep slumber and yawned. Her nose still slightly stung, but she, surprisingly, felt fine. Nathaniel, however, was across the remains of a small fire from her, snoring loudly. She hazily recalled the Charter spells that Nathaniel had worked on her. Her memory was a bit fuzzy. It was as if she was viewing the previous night's events from a distance, or through a patchy fog. Fingering one of the holes in her surcoat, she remembered the soft glow of Charter light and Magic as Nathaniel cleansed her wounds. She shut her pale blue eyes as she was reminded of how those wounds got there. The stench of Free Magic was still in her now-crooked nose. The teeth of the Dead were sharp, their gaping mouths hungry. A chill shivered down her spine and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She clasped her elbows and rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself. Yasmel supposed that she was physically healed, but the trauma she suffered on the Ratterlin would take a little more than Charter Spells to repair.
She dug through her pack, finding soggy dried meat, stale (but wet) bread, and a bruised apple. She sighed. Venturing down the shore, she moved quietly. There were tracks of much game here. She sat quietly for an hour before Nathaniel's honking-goose snoring let up. No animals had ventured out while she sat, and so Yasmel went back to the camp with empty hands.
When Nathaniel woke up from his well-deserved sleep, Yasmel was walking towards camp. Nathaniel blinked sleepily and stretched as he sat up, greeting the small woman approaching. She smiled and sat down. "So, what is the plan now?" Yasmel asked.
"Well, I'm going to dip my head into the River to wake up, then after that…" Nathaniel shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead."
Yasmel stared. Nathaniel smiled, embarassed. "Sorry. I suppose we should keep going south. That will take us to…."
The Clayr pulled the parchement map from her pack and unrolled it. "That will take us to the Long Cliffs, from there we cross to the Abhorsen's house."
"Alright. If only it were that simple." Nathaniel rose and stiffly walked over to the shore of the Ratterlin. He lay down and did as he said he would, and dunked his head into the icy water. Sputtering, he came back to the camp, looking much more alert and awake. "Alright. Shall we move on?"
The sky was still clouded over, but there was enough sunlight that they both felt protected and able to travel. It wasn't raining anymore, which Nathaniel felt was a blessing. Moving slowly at first, the travelers followed the Ratterlin south for a few more miles before stopping for a bit of food. Nathaniel had flushed a small hare out of the bush, and Yasmel, thinking quickly, had cast a spell-woven net and ensnared it. The two had hoped to replenish their food stores and other supplies in Qyrre, but that did not happen. The only food that they had was the poor fare in Yasmel's soggy pack. The hare had cooked nicely, and had tasted wonderful.
After their meal, they consulted Yasmel's map, searching for a town or village between Qyrre and the Abhorsen's house. There were two small fishing villages. "Should we stop at the first? Houghton?"
Yasmel measured with her thumb on the map. It was about 70 miles to the Long Cliffs. Walking for six hours a day, it would take three days to get there. It was a day's walk to Houghton. Yasmel sighed. "I suppose we should stop there. We won't have food enough to reach the second village at the rate we're going."
"Unless we manage to scare up another rabbit… and speaking of the rate we're going, perhaps we should get going again." Nathaniel lifted his nose into the breeze. The slight odor of Free Magic was on the air again. Yasmel scented it and shuddered. But the fear of Free Magic was unfounded today, for nothing showed itself to the weary travelers. They walked for hours without incident, following the steady flow of the cold Ratterlin, wading across it's tributaries. They reached Houghton just before sunset.
The innsman held them at swordpoint while he checked their Charter Marks with trembling fingers. "Sorry, Sir, and Gentlelady. We gots to be careful, ye know." He said softly as he lowered his sword. "I got a couple of rooms that're empty. You can take them, if you've a liking."
Nathaniel did "have a liking." It was the first real bed he'd slept in for a week, at least, and he sank into the soft mattress and pillow gratefully.
A/N : Alright, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've changed a bit in Ch. 4 to make it fit with canon. (The whole "The King quenched me…" deal. So I've changed the forging scene to match that. It doesn't matter much to this story, so don't worry about it.)
I've made a few changes to grammar and spelling in this chapter (to please my much loved and appreciated reviewers. Thanks!) Thanks for reading, and please review! (I've shut off the "Login to Review" option, I know it ticks people off. Sorry.)