The concept of the Abhorsen and related characters belongs to Garth Nix. I am merely borrowing them.
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CHARTERSTONE
Chapter Eight
Here at the End of All Things
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The Dead may screech, the Dead may wail
But know this, child, that without fail
Though some things may seek to wait
All must pass beyond the gate.
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They reached the city ahead of the fog, but only just ahead. Mirel's face was white in the darkening twilight as she gripped the horse's reins, trying not fall off. Eimeth gritted her teeth and tried to give the girl a reassuring look, but she was having enough trouble keeping herself on the horse. The pain in her arm, redoubled by the jostling gait of the horse beneath her, was distracting her more than she had thought it would.
There was nothing to do but put up with it, so she bit her lip and put up with it, although a cold sweat had broken out on her forehead by the time they reached the palace. They had strengthened the Charter-spells as they passed, but still Eimeth felt the chill of the Dead all around the city. Along the west gate the spells held; but those at the other gates were dangerously close to failing.
The gate-guards recognized her and waved them through to the palace proper. Eimeth reined in the horse and dismounted, struggling to keep her wits about her. Mirel let out a breath of relief as the guards took the horses for them. "Let's find the Queen," said Eimeth, setting off across the courtyard with the girl trotting in her wake. By the time they had reached the door to the Great Hall the white fog had reached the castle gates.
Kerrigor was no longer coming... he was here...
Eimeth bit her lip again, so hard it bled, and barred the door behind them. A servant dashed up to her and cried, "Oh, Abhorsen, what's happening?"
"We are under attack by a powerful necromancer called Kerrigor," said Eimeth impatiently. "Where is the Queen? I must speak with her at once."
"She's gone down to the Great Stones," said the servant nervously. "So she'll be safe from whatever that thing is out there."
"All right," said Eimeth slowly. "That's a safe enough place for now. What about the rest of the royal family? Where are the princesses?"
"They're all down there," said the servant. "Prince Rogirek said they should all go down to the stones. All the daughters and the Queen and everyone."
Eimeth's insides turned to ice. "What?" she whispered, and did not stay to hear the servant's answer, taking off at a dead run towards the steps that led down to the Great Stones.
"Abhorsen?" cried Mirel, pelting after her. Eimeth did not stop as she tore through the palace and down, down, down to the reservoir.
She didn't reach it. A dark shape flew from an alcove and tackled her around the ankles, throwing her to the ground and sending a bolt of white- hot fire up her broken arm. She screamed before she could bite back the sound. Mirel skidded a stop and tumbled over both of them, her cry of surprise abruptly cut off as her head met the flagstones with sharp thud.
A pair of hands scrabbled at Eimeth's throat; furiously she fought back, but one-handed she could not overpower her attacker. "What are you doing, Adiel?" she cried.
The Abhorsen-in-Waiting grinned down at her, his eyes wild and half-crazed. "I wasn't going to come," he said. "But Mogget insisted. Said you needed me. Said you were going to Belisaere."
"Necromancer," hissed Eimeth, bringing her knee up hard into the back of his leg and furiously flipping him away from her. "You are no Abhorsen."
"You think I care anything for that?" screamed Adiel, leaping to his feet and advancing on the kneeling Abhorsen. Out of the corner of her eye Eimeth saw Mirel stir. Adiel drew his sword with a long, rasping scrape, pushing a tangle of red curls out of his eyes. Eimeth struggled to stand up, struggled to do anything to get away, but he had her by the hair before she could summon enough strength to act. With a growl he forced back her head and drew his sword lightly along her throat, not hard enough to break the skin.
She swallowed convulsively, and he laughed. "It was so easy, dear Abhorsen. You had the wrong apprentice twice. Poor little Mirel, always overlooked... even we thought Tallie was the right one for a while. But then I didn't think she'd ever come forward when we did discover our mistake, and of course, who would have believed her when the Clayr saw me? It's a very good thing to have powerful friends, cousin, a very good thing indeed." He pressed the sword harder into the unprotected skin of her neck, and Eimeth closed her eyes, unable to look upon the face. "No Ninth Gate for you, Abhorsen. You shall serve my master as the very thing you strive to put to rest—the Dead."
But the stroke never came. Eimeth felt his grip on her hair release and she tumbled backwards, opening her eyes to behold a gruesome sight. Mirel, her eyes blazing, was behind Adiel with her sword thrust right through his torso, from the small of his back to his stomach. With a shriek he fell forward; Eimeth scooted away just in time and gaped in shock as the former Abhorsen-in-Waiting thudded onto the floor next to her.
"He's not dead," said Mirel, breathing hard. She pulled the sword from his gut and held out a hand to her aunt.
"It's all right. One less Dead Hand for Kerrigor to use," said Eimeth, standing up with a grunt of pain. "We must get down to the reservoir." They took off through the halls again, going as fast as they could, leaving Adiel crumpled on the floor behind them.
"I've never done anything like that," said Mirel, panting as they strode through the halls. A lump was already rising from her temple, but Eimeth took far more notice of the girl's tone. From what she had seen over the past few days, Mirel was one of the most self-assured young women she had ever met.
"It is sometimes necessary, especially in this particular business," said Eimeth, trying, in all honesty, not to think of it, because a surge of anger and loss swept through her every time she did.
A tear ran down the girl's cheek. "I know," she said, sounding much younger than she was. "It's just... some of this is instinctive. And everything I've been doing is really luck... I didn't know if I could banish that Mordicant. I was thanking my lucky stars that I managed it the whole day yesterday. Do you think we can defeat Kerrigor?"
"I don't know, to be perfectly honest," said Eimeth, suddenly angry without really knowing why. "I don't ever know! I might go after some Dead thing and every time it could be my last. Every Dead creature might be the one that finally trips me up and sends me past the Ninth Gate at last. I don't know, Mirel. All we can do is fight it. That is our job. And that is all we can do."
Mirel did not answer, and Eimeth sighed, wishing for the first time in her life that she was not the Abhorsen. She broke into a run again, gritting her teeth against the pain of her arm, and they finally reached the stairs to the reservoir.
Both of them felt that something was terribly, terribly wrong as soon as they began the descent. Nausea swept through the Abhorsen's stomach and she fought to keep from retching. Mirel looked no better, her face completely white and the bruise on her forehead shining red in the light of the torches along the wall. About halfway down a scream echoed up to them, ringing on and on without ending. Eimeth quickened her pace and took the rest of the steps four at a time, retrieving bells as she went. Saraneth rang in concert with Kibeth in a one-handed pattern, doubled by Mirel, drowning the echo of the terrible scream.
She saw Rogir—Kerrigor—standing over the bastard prince Torrigan. Eimeth could feel the corrosion within the Prince and gagged, splashing into the water and furiously wading towards them. All of a sudden Torrigan's face seemed to come alive; he broke from the thrall Kerrigor had over him and stared up at the stairway in horror. Eimeth, still ringing the bells, never breaking the rhythm, risked a look back and saw Adiel, soaked with blood, standing there with a column of white fire behind him. "Abhorsen!" cried Adiel, grinning crazily as he swayed. "The Mogget is loose!" With a grunt he fell forward, and she felt the life leave his body.
Eimeth snarled in fury and ripped the binding ring from her finger. Of all the inconvenient things to happen! "Mirel! Get Torrigan!" she screamed, feeling the ring grow behind her back. This would be difficult, terribly difficult, with only hand to manipulate both bell and ring. She swallowed hard and looked up at the white-hot thing advancing upon her. Somewhere behind her she heard Mirel shouting and Kerrigor screaming again.
"The blood price must be paid!" screamed Mogget. "He's a good-hearted Abhorsen, that one—he released me at last!"
"Hardly," said Eimeth. "There's a trick that he never knew. You think I cannot bind you again? I can!"
A breath of fire swooped out from the Mogget-thing and knocked her back into the water. She gulped liquid instead of air and came up coughing desperately as the pillar of fire leapt for her—but she was ready—and the expanding ring, now like a silver hoop, came flying up and over, catching Mogget just as he careened into her. They both fell into the water, Mogget snarling and tearing at her with suddenly-grown cat claws. She tried to ring Saraneth, but the bell was distorted underwater, and did nothing.
"It's too late, Abhorsen!" screamed Mogget as they surged up from the water once more. But her hand was free, and she rang Saraneth as loudly as she could, hoping it would be enough. Mogget fell back, coughing and choking, and at last a sodden ball of fur clawed its way up to her shoulder. She caught the binding ring with her bad hand just before it fell into the water, wincing at the movement, and slipped it back onto her finger.
Nothing would be more welcome at the moment then to just sink into the water and never get up, but she couldn't. She heard Mirel scream and whirled around to see Kerrigor raising a bloody sword over the girl, who was half-laying on the barge, clutching the unconscious Torrigan.
Eimeth reacted so fast she hardly knew what was happening. Charter Marks, great master marks even she had never before dared to use, aligned themselves on her tongue and flew towards the shivering girl. Dimly she registered that something was awry with the prince, but she could not determine what, because as the Charter Marks reached the two they shone with a bright glow and then disappeared into thin air. Eimeth knew where they had gone, but Kerrigor did not,, and could not follow.
Kerrigor screamed his fury. His servants, necromancers in black robes, Shadow Hands and Dead Hands, flanked him on either side; bile rose in Eimeth's throat as she took a step backward. She could see the bodies of the princesses floating in the water, their faces ghastly white and frozen in a look of surprise.
"So, Abhorsen, you've fouled my plans," said Kerrigor, coming closer to her. She could feel Free Magic pouring from him in waves. This was not his real body; this was a construct, a mere shell to hold his spirit. Her heart sank, knowing that victory would not be possible without that real body.
"You left too many clues," said Eimeth, hoping to stall while she racked her brains, trying to think of something to do.
She knew what must happen—but she did not want to do it.
He held up a shining piece of glass. "I have been laying this in motion for years!" he screamed. "Dyrim's Mirror... Adiel... we had to have everything right. But we underestimated you!" He threw down the shard of glass. "That is a mistake I shall not make again. Ready the Stone," he said to his servants, coming towards Eimeth.
"To think, an Abhorsen who hates her life, who is plagued by petty concerns and feelings of inadequacy...you could have been powerful, more powerful than even I am now. Do you miss your daughter, Abhorsen? Adiel killed her on my command. And now I shall kill you, and you can be with her, knowing that your blood broke the next stone."
"Go, Mogget," whispered Eimeth, lifting her bad arm from the water and resting it on the soggy bell-bandolier.
He paused a second, still clinging to her shoulder, and said, "Good luck, Abhorsen." Then he was gone, a white streak up the stairs, and Eimeth was alone with Kerrigor and his servants.
"I loved my daughter," said Eimeth sadly, looking at the broken bodies of the Queen's daughters. "She was my light, and you took her from me. Do you think that I can allow you to ruin more lives this way? You are Dead, Kerrigor. And it is the Abhorsen's job to lay the Dead to rest!"
With one smooth movement she flipped Saraneth into her bad hand and drew Astarael, the largest of the bells, from its pouch. And without heeding Kerrigor, as he rushed towards her, she rang the bell hard and fast, then brought Saraneth into the mix and sounded both at once. The necromancers went first with a scream of horror, tumbling down the river of Death and out of sight. The Queen and her daughters were waiting on the other side, and bowed to Eimeth before they too were swept away by the current.
Kerrigor held longest, fighting against the bells. "I will find a way to return," he growled, finally turning away. He fought her every step of the way, and when he was finally deep within Death Eimeth let go herself, slipping into the river with a sigh of relief. She closed her eyes and merely floated, feeling herself drift deeper and deeper.
At the last she opened her eyes and fell upwards into black oblivion, the stars glimmering like tiny points of fire in the heavens. The river dropped away, the howling Dead trying to hold to life quieted, and for the very first time in a long, long while, Eimeth felt at peace.
A hand gripped hers; the other smoothed back her hair, and a pair of lips gently touched her cheek, and a soft voice said, "Welcome home, Mother. Welcome home."
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I wrote this ages ago and never posted it until now. Very sorry about that... there's a little epilogue, too, so keep an eye out. I will finish it up and post it soon.
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CHARTERSTONE
Chapter Eight
Here at the End of All Things
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
The Dead may screech, the Dead may wail
But know this, child, that without fail
Though some things may seek to wait
All must pass beyond the gate.
:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:
They reached the city ahead of the fog, but only just ahead. Mirel's face was white in the darkening twilight as she gripped the horse's reins, trying not fall off. Eimeth gritted her teeth and tried to give the girl a reassuring look, but she was having enough trouble keeping herself on the horse. The pain in her arm, redoubled by the jostling gait of the horse beneath her, was distracting her more than she had thought it would.
There was nothing to do but put up with it, so she bit her lip and put up with it, although a cold sweat had broken out on her forehead by the time they reached the palace. They had strengthened the Charter-spells as they passed, but still Eimeth felt the chill of the Dead all around the city. Along the west gate the spells held; but those at the other gates were dangerously close to failing.
The gate-guards recognized her and waved them through to the palace proper. Eimeth reined in the horse and dismounted, struggling to keep her wits about her. Mirel let out a breath of relief as the guards took the horses for them. "Let's find the Queen," said Eimeth, setting off across the courtyard with the girl trotting in her wake. By the time they had reached the door to the Great Hall the white fog had reached the castle gates.
Kerrigor was no longer coming... he was here...
Eimeth bit her lip again, so hard it bled, and barred the door behind them. A servant dashed up to her and cried, "Oh, Abhorsen, what's happening?"
"We are under attack by a powerful necromancer called Kerrigor," said Eimeth impatiently. "Where is the Queen? I must speak with her at once."
"She's gone down to the Great Stones," said the servant nervously. "So she'll be safe from whatever that thing is out there."
"All right," said Eimeth slowly. "That's a safe enough place for now. What about the rest of the royal family? Where are the princesses?"
"They're all down there," said the servant. "Prince Rogirek said they should all go down to the stones. All the daughters and the Queen and everyone."
Eimeth's insides turned to ice. "What?" she whispered, and did not stay to hear the servant's answer, taking off at a dead run towards the steps that led down to the Great Stones.
"Abhorsen?" cried Mirel, pelting after her. Eimeth did not stop as she tore through the palace and down, down, down to the reservoir.
She didn't reach it. A dark shape flew from an alcove and tackled her around the ankles, throwing her to the ground and sending a bolt of white- hot fire up her broken arm. She screamed before she could bite back the sound. Mirel skidded a stop and tumbled over both of them, her cry of surprise abruptly cut off as her head met the flagstones with sharp thud.
A pair of hands scrabbled at Eimeth's throat; furiously she fought back, but one-handed she could not overpower her attacker. "What are you doing, Adiel?" she cried.
The Abhorsen-in-Waiting grinned down at her, his eyes wild and half-crazed. "I wasn't going to come," he said. "But Mogget insisted. Said you needed me. Said you were going to Belisaere."
"Necromancer," hissed Eimeth, bringing her knee up hard into the back of his leg and furiously flipping him away from her. "You are no Abhorsen."
"You think I care anything for that?" screamed Adiel, leaping to his feet and advancing on the kneeling Abhorsen. Out of the corner of her eye Eimeth saw Mirel stir. Adiel drew his sword with a long, rasping scrape, pushing a tangle of red curls out of his eyes. Eimeth struggled to stand up, struggled to do anything to get away, but he had her by the hair before she could summon enough strength to act. With a growl he forced back her head and drew his sword lightly along her throat, not hard enough to break the skin.
She swallowed convulsively, and he laughed. "It was so easy, dear Abhorsen. You had the wrong apprentice twice. Poor little Mirel, always overlooked... even we thought Tallie was the right one for a while. But then I didn't think she'd ever come forward when we did discover our mistake, and of course, who would have believed her when the Clayr saw me? It's a very good thing to have powerful friends, cousin, a very good thing indeed." He pressed the sword harder into the unprotected skin of her neck, and Eimeth closed her eyes, unable to look upon the face. "No Ninth Gate for you, Abhorsen. You shall serve my master as the very thing you strive to put to rest—the Dead."
But the stroke never came. Eimeth felt his grip on her hair release and she tumbled backwards, opening her eyes to behold a gruesome sight. Mirel, her eyes blazing, was behind Adiel with her sword thrust right through his torso, from the small of his back to his stomach. With a shriek he fell forward; Eimeth scooted away just in time and gaped in shock as the former Abhorsen-in-Waiting thudded onto the floor next to her.
"He's not dead," said Mirel, breathing hard. She pulled the sword from his gut and held out a hand to her aunt.
"It's all right. One less Dead Hand for Kerrigor to use," said Eimeth, standing up with a grunt of pain. "We must get down to the reservoir." They took off through the halls again, going as fast as they could, leaving Adiel crumpled on the floor behind them.
"I've never done anything like that," said Mirel, panting as they strode through the halls. A lump was already rising from her temple, but Eimeth took far more notice of the girl's tone. From what she had seen over the past few days, Mirel was one of the most self-assured young women she had ever met.
"It is sometimes necessary, especially in this particular business," said Eimeth, trying, in all honesty, not to think of it, because a surge of anger and loss swept through her every time she did.
A tear ran down the girl's cheek. "I know," she said, sounding much younger than she was. "It's just... some of this is instinctive. And everything I've been doing is really luck... I didn't know if I could banish that Mordicant. I was thanking my lucky stars that I managed it the whole day yesterday. Do you think we can defeat Kerrigor?"
"I don't know, to be perfectly honest," said Eimeth, suddenly angry without really knowing why. "I don't ever know! I might go after some Dead thing and every time it could be my last. Every Dead creature might be the one that finally trips me up and sends me past the Ninth Gate at last. I don't know, Mirel. All we can do is fight it. That is our job. And that is all we can do."
Mirel did not answer, and Eimeth sighed, wishing for the first time in her life that she was not the Abhorsen. She broke into a run again, gritting her teeth against the pain of her arm, and they finally reached the stairs to the reservoir.
Both of them felt that something was terribly, terribly wrong as soon as they began the descent. Nausea swept through the Abhorsen's stomach and she fought to keep from retching. Mirel looked no better, her face completely white and the bruise on her forehead shining red in the light of the torches along the wall. About halfway down a scream echoed up to them, ringing on and on without ending. Eimeth quickened her pace and took the rest of the steps four at a time, retrieving bells as she went. Saraneth rang in concert with Kibeth in a one-handed pattern, doubled by Mirel, drowning the echo of the terrible scream.
She saw Rogir—Kerrigor—standing over the bastard prince Torrigan. Eimeth could feel the corrosion within the Prince and gagged, splashing into the water and furiously wading towards them. All of a sudden Torrigan's face seemed to come alive; he broke from the thrall Kerrigor had over him and stared up at the stairway in horror. Eimeth, still ringing the bells, never breaking the rhythm, risked a look back and saw Adiel, soaked with blood, standing there with a column of white fire behind him. "Abhorsen!" cried Adiel, grinning crazily as he swayed. "The Mogget is loose!" With a grunt he fell forward, and she felt the life leave his body.
Eimeth snarled in fury and ripped the binding ring from her finger. Of all the inconvenient things to happen! "Mirel! Get Torrigan!" she screamed, feeling the ring grow behind her back. This would be difficult, terribly difficult, with only hand to manipulate both bell and ring. She swallowed hard and looked up at the white-hot thing advancing upon her. Somewhere behind her she heard Mirel shouting and Kerrigor screaming again.
"The blood price must be paid!" screamed Mogget. "He's a good-hearted Abhorsen, that one—he released me at last!"
"Hardly," said Eimeth. "There's a trick that he never knew. You think I cannot bind you again? I can!"
A breath of fire swooped out from the Mogget-thing and knocked her back into the water. She gulped liquid instead of air and came up coughing desperately as the pillar of fire leapt for her—but she was ready—and the expanding ring, now like a silver hoop, came flying up and over, catching Mogget just as he careened into her. They both fell into the water, Mogget snarling and tearing at her with suddenly-grown cat claws. She tried to ring Saraneth, but the bell was distorted underwater, and did nothing.
"It's too late, Abhorsen!" screamed Mogget as they surged up from the water once more. But her hand was free, and she rang Saraneth as loudly as she could, hoping it would be enough. Mogget fell back, coughing and choking, and at last a sodden ball of fur clawed its way up to her shoulder. She caught the binding ring with her bad hand just before it fell into the water, wincing at the movement, and slipped it back onto her finger.
Nothing would be more welcome at the moment then to just sink into the water and never get up, but she couldn't. She heard Mirel scream and whirled around to see Kerrigor raising a bloody sword over the girl, who was half-laying on the barge, clutching the unconscious Torrigan.
Eimeth reacted so fast she hardly knew what was happening. Charter Marks, great master marks even she had never before dared to use, aligned themselves on her tongue and flew towards the shivering girl. Dimly she registered that something was awry with the prince, but she could not determine what, because as the Charter Marks reached the two they shone with a bright glow and then disappeared into thin air. Eimeth knew where they had gone, but Kerrigor did not,, and could not follow.
Kerrigor screamed his fury. His servants, necromancers in black robes, Shadow Hands and Dead Hands, flanked him on either side; bile rose in Eimeth's throat as she took a step backward. She could see the bodies of the princesses floating in the water, their faces ghastly white and frozen in a look of surprise.
"So, Abhorsen, you've fouled my plans," said Kerrigor, coming closer to her. She could feel Free Magic pouring from him in waves. This was not his real body; this was a construct, a mere shell to hold his spirit. Her heart sank, knowing that victory would not be possible without that real body.
"You left too many clues," said Eimeth, hoping to stall while she racked her brains, trying to think of something to do.
She knew what must happen—but she did not want to do it.
He held up a shining piece of glass. "I have been laying this in motion for years!" he screamed. "Dyrim's Mirror... Adiel... we had to have everything right. But we underestimated you!" He threw down the shard of glass. "That is a mistake I shall not make again. Ready the Stone," he said to his servants, coming towards Eimeth.
"To think, an Abhorsen who hates her life, who is plagued by petty concerns and feelings of inadequacy...you could have been powerful, more powerful than even I am now. Do you miss your daughter, Abhorsen? Adiel killed her on my command. And now I shall kill you, and you can be with her, knowing that your blood broke the next stone."
"Go, Mogget," whispered Eimeth, lifting her bad arm from the water and resting it on the soggy bell-bandolier.
He paused a second, still clinging to her shoulder, and said, "Good luck, Abhorsen." Then he was gone, a white streak up the stairs, and Eimeth was alone with Kerrigor and his servants.
"I loved my daughter," said Eimeth sadly, looking at the broken bodies of the Queen's daughters. "She was my light, and you took her from me. Do you think that I can allow you to ruin more lives this way? You are Dead, Kerrigor. And it is the Abhorsen's job to lay the Dead to rest!"
With one smooth movement she flipped Saraneth into her bad hand and drew Astarael, the largest of the bells, from its pouch. And without heeding Kerrigor, as he rushed towards her, she rang the bell hard and fast, then brought Saraneth into the mix and sounded both at once. The necromancers went first with a scream of horror, tumbling down the river of Death and out of sight. The Queen and her daughters were waiting on the other side, and bowed to Eimeth before they too were swept away by the current.
Kerrigor held longest, fighting against the bells. "I will find a way to return," he growled, finally turning away. He fought her every step of the way, and when he was finally deep within Death Eimeth let go herself, slipping into the river with a sigh of relief. She closed her eyes and merely floated, feeling herself drift deeper and deeper.
At the last she opened her eyes and fell upwards into black oblivion, the stars glimmering like tiny points of fire in the heavens. The river dropped away, the howling Dead trying to hold to life quieted, and for the very first time in a long, long while, Eimeth felt at peace.
A hand gripped hers; the other smoothed back her hair, and a pair of lips gently touched her cheek, and a soft voice said, "Welcome home, Mother. Welcome home."
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I wrote this ages ago and never posted it until now. Very sorry about that... there's a little epilogue, too, so keep an eye out. I will finish it up and post it soon.