Xandrael ran her fingers across the titles of the books. She spent all her time in the library and had read almost all the books she was permitted to. She had nothing else to do. She didn't have the Sight. The Sight enables you to see into the many futures as well as see the present. It was the birth right of every Clayr and being she wasn't one she would never have that gift. She was sent to live with her aunt in the Clayr Glacier after both her parents had died and she knew of no other family. Although her aunt was a Clayr and she'd lived with them for twelve years, she hardly knew anything about them, all she knew was nearly all of them were always called off to some secret meeting she wasn't allowed to know about. They called it the Nine Day Watch. Xandrael didn't exactly know what persay they watched but she knew it had something to do with the sight.
It was kind of lonely in the Glacier since she was not a Clayr she was not allowed in all the same places the others were. There were restrictions for her. She wasn't allowed to be in the southern wing of the Glacier and there was an entire room in the library she wasn't able to see. All of the younger Clayr taunted her. No one would talk to her unless it was to laugh at her or insult her. She hated being different. She dressed different, looked different and lived different. The Clayr were petite had long blond hair and blue eyes with beautiful tanned skin. Xandrael was tall and lanky with dark bushy hair, brown eyes and pale skin. She was told she looked like her mother. That was a lie! Everyone told her that her mother was beautiful. Xandrael vaguely remembered her parents. They had died when she was very young. Her aunt Kirrith had not told her anything other than "They were wonderful people. You look so much like your mother, you know. Your father though I never knew him I'm told was quite handsome." She was extremely cautious about was she told Xandrael about her parents.
Xandrael pulled a large leather bound book off the bookshelf. She had never seen it there before, which was strange since she knew almost every book in the library. The Book of the Dead. She read silently, running her hand across the title. Suddenly, she dropped the book as a sharp pain surged though her forehead. She put her palm up to brow and pressed it hard against her throbbing skull. She was relieved when the pain stopped. She picked up the book and put it back on the shelf and went back to her room.
Walking though the empty hallways, she could hear her own footsteps loudly pitter pattering on the warm stone floor, that was swimming with Charter Marks. She walked quickly not wanting to meet anyone, she really wasn't the social type, besides she really wasn't supposed to be out quite so late. She turned the corner and walked down the corridor to her room. She went in and shut the door quietly. She wiped her head. She was sweating profusely. She felt sick, so she laid down on her bed. She wanted to sleep, but her eyes stayed wide open. She was too tired to sleep. She thought about the mysterious book. She had never seen it there before, but she remembered it. Where did she see it? A dream perhaps? Then she had the sudden urge to go back and look for it. But before the thought had fully sunk in she had already drifted into sleep.
There was another fog, far away from the smog of Corvere. Six hundred miles to the north, across the Wall that separated Ancelstierre from the Old Kingdom. The Wall where the Old Kingdom's magic really began and Ancelstierre's modern technology failed. This fog was different from its far-southern cousin. It was not white but the dark grey of a storm cloud, and it was completely unnatural. This fog had been spun from air and Free Magic and was born on a hilltop far from any water. It survived and spread despite the heat of a late-spring afternoon, which should have burned it into nothing.
Ignoring sun and light breezes, the fog spread from the hill and rolled south and east, thin tendrils creeping out in advance of the main body. Half a league on from the hill, one of these tendrils separated into a cloud that rose high in the air and crossed the mighty river Ratterlin. Once across, it sank to sit like a toad on the eastern bank, and new fog begun to puff out of it.
Soon the two arms of fog shrouded both western and eastern shores of the Ratterlin, though the sun still shone on the river in between. Both river and fog sped at their very different paces towards the Long Cliffs. The river dashed along, getting faster and faster as it headed to the great waterfall, where it would plunge down more than a thousand feet. The fog was slow and threatening. It thickened and rose higher as it rolled on.
A few yards before it reached the Long Cliffs, the fog stopped, though it still grew thicker and rose higher, threatening the island that sat in the middle of the river and on the edge of the waterfall. An island with high white walls that enclosed a house and gardens.
The fog did not spread across the river, nor lean in too far as it rose. There were unseen defenses that held it back, that kept the sun shining on the white walls, the gardens, and the red-tiled house. The fog was a weapon, but it was only the first move in a battle, only the beginning of a siege. The battle lines were drawn and the House invested.
For the whole river-circled isle was Abhorsen's House. Home to the Abhorsen, whose birthright and charge was to maintain the borders of Life and Death. The Abhorsen, who used necromantic bells and Free Magic, but who was neither necromancer nor Free Magic sorcerer. The Abhorsen, who sent any Dead who trespassed in Life back to whence they came.
The creator of the fog knew that the Abhorsen was not actually in the House. The Abhorsen and her husband, the King, had been lured across the Wall and would presumably be dealt with there. That was part of her Master's plan, long since laid but only recently begun in earnest.
The plan had many parts, in many countries, though the very heart and reason for it lay in the Old Kingdom. War, assassination, and refugees were elements of the plan, all manipulated by a scheming, subtle mind that had waited generations for everything to come to fruition.
But as with any plan, there had already been complications and problems. Two of them were in the House. One was a young woman, who had been sent south by the witches who lived in the glacier-clad mountain at the Ratterlin's source. The Clayr, who Saw many futures in the ice, and who would certainly try to twist the present to their own ends. The woman was one of their elite mages, easily identified by the colored waistcoat she wore. A red waistcoat, marking her as a Second Assistant Librarian.
The maker of the fog had seen her, black haired and pale skinned, surely no older than twenty, a mere fingernail sliver of an age. She had heard the young woman's name, called out in desperate battle. Lirael.
Xandrael awoke from the dream. Her head aching more than ever. She clenched her teeth. Her eyes filled with tears. She screamed into her pillow, she couldn't stand the pain any longer. She lay stiffly on her bed grasping her sweat drenched sheets. And all memories of the dream were forgotten.
She must have passed out from the pain, because she woke again later. The pain was gone, but she was still quite warm. She was feeling hungry so she decided to go to the kitchen to get something to eat, she figured by the sun that it was already after lunch.
There was still no one in the hallways as she walked down the hall toward the kitchen. When she got to the kitchen it was almost empty three or four kitchen worker and a couple people sitting down stairs in the Lower Refectory where the vistors ate. Normally the Refectory was full of merchants and soldiers, but today there were only two soldiers, laughing loudly at something that was probably not funny at all. Like, the look on a corpses face after his head had been severed from his body at the blade of one of their swords. Xandrael sneered at them and strode to the back of the kitchen.
"Sorry love there's not much now. You should have came earlier." An older woman said handing her a plate of cold chicken and brown rice. Xandrael didn't care she was starving and she couldn't have come earlier even if she had wanted to.
She went to sit down in the Lower Refectory on the opposite side that the soldiers were sitting on. She put her plate down first then stepped over the bench and sat down. She noticed both the soldiers eyeing her. They must not have caught the first sneer so she winced at them this time. The soldiers laughter stopped and they turned around back to a much quieter conversation.
Soon the two soldiers left and Xandrael was all alone. She sat there eating the remainder of her breakfast. It was more like dinner actually.
It was four o'clock when Xandrael left the dining hall. She thought she'd catch up on some reading, while she had the opportunity. The library would probably be empty other than a librarian or two that had not gone to The Watch.
Xandrael opened the large iron doors of the library and glided in. She thought she would look for the book that she had come across last night. It some how intridged her. She went back to the spot she had found it, but it wasn't there.
Soon she found her self searching the whole library. Finally she came to the restricted room. Though, not restricted at all to anyone save her. All anyone else had to do was ask and they were let in. She was quite aggravated by the fact that The Clayr were hiding thing from her. Like what really had happened to her parents and why she wasn't allowed to know about any of her family or most of the things going on in the Glacier. It wasn't just that, but it seemed everyone knew the answers but her.
Xandrael's curiosity got the best of her like it often did and she decided to go in. Her restricted section was a small room filled with books she was not permitted to read. The actual restricted sections were off limits to all but head librarians and the more powerful Clayr, they were protected by a number of Charter spells and armed librarians. Xandrael heard stories about the restricted sections. They were often rooms holding horrible creatures with only one book. A very powerful, useful book, that must be protected. And a very terrible creature that must be kept confined, for if it escaped it would reek much havoc on the outside world. These rooms were all over the library on every level.
Xandrael's lilliputian restricted room was only protected by one small Charter spell, of course still a spell too powerful for her to break. Though Xandrael was surrounded by Charter magic she never got the hang of using it, due to her lack of magical reading material and besides even if she did know a spell she wasn't strong enough to use it. But, being the very stubborn girl she was she tried anyway.
Xandrael closed her eyes and gathered all the Charter Marks she thought she would need. It took her a long time to do this because of her inexperience casting spells. She opened her mouth and let the marks flow out, she assumed this wouldn't work but at least she could say she tried. Well, actually she couldn't say anything. She was breaking the rules, you don't just go around telling people you've broken rules. Especially with her Aunt Kirrith, the prision warden.
When Xandrael opened her eyes nothing had changed. She sighed and turned to walk away, but then she heard the door creek open. She turned back around to see the door to the room now open. The books were all calling to her. She walked slowly towards the room, it was barely five breasts wide and six beasts long, with a small table in the center. On the table sat the book she sought. It was as if someone or something had wanted her to find the book there, A large, black, leather bound book, with gold leaf spelling out the title. The Book of the Dead. She ran her fingers over the title and opened the book. She felt a twinge of pain run though her fingers to her head where her Charter Mark was. She gasped as the pain worsened then went away. Xandrael sat down in one of the chairs at the table and began to read. She was hardly conscious of anything around her and her mide began to drift into sleepy thoughts.
When Xandrael woke it was dark and the door was closed. Charter Marks swam on the walls between book shelves, giving off a faint eerie glow. She looked down at the book in front of her. She knew she had finished the book, but could remember nothing of it. She closed the book and flipped the book back over to display its front cover. The title that was once as clear as day had now faded and the cover was blank. Xandrael got up from her seat and opened the door. The library was dark. She was surprised no one had come looking for her or even caught her in there and even more surprised she was even able to penitrate the room in the first place. But, she figured that seeing as how she was not the most fantastic being to ever walk the earth and most of the Clayr were gone there wouldn't be anyone looking for her.
Xandrael concluded that she would stay for a little while longer so she could read a few more books. She longed to know what was kept from her for so long. She looked though the small collection of books none of them really satisfied her hunger so to speak. Then she saw something. She pulled the book out and stared at it. There was no title unlike the rest of the books and it was much more diminutive than most of the tomes she had seen in the space. She undid the twine that kept it shut and opened it gently. A diary. It was a diary of a woman. Lirael. She had heard that name before, but not in consciousness.
Strange new words filled her head. She saw new things "The sword of the Abhorsen." "Necromancer's bells." And She learned of new people; Prince Sameth, King Touchstone, Sabriel the Abhorsen, Lirael the Abhorsen, Nicholas Lirael's love. Strange, but it felt as if she recognized those names. She wished she could remember more, maybe these people knew her parents. Maybe these people were her family. Xandrael felt as if she was standing on the edge of a lake that she wasn't able to completely dive into.
It was kind of lonely in the Glacier since she was not a Clayr she was not allowed in all the same places the others were. There were restrictions for her. She wasn't allowed to be in the southern wing of the Glacier and there was an entire room in the library she wasn't able to see. All of the younger Clayr taunted her. No one would talk to her unless it was to laugh at her or insult her. She hated being different. She dressed different, looked different and lived different. The Clayr were petite had long blond hair and blue eyes with beautiful tanned skin. Xandrael was tall and lanky with dark bushy hair, brown eyes and pale skin. She was told she looked like her mother. That was a lie! Everyone told her that her mother was beautiful. Xandrael vaguely remembered her parents. They had died when she was very young. Her aunt Kirrith had not told her anything other than "They were wonderful people. You look so much like your mother, you know. Your father though I never knew him I'm told was quite handsome." She was extremely cautious about was she told Xandrael about her parents.
Xandrael pulled a large leather bound book off the bookshelf. She had never seen it there before, which was strange since she knew almost every book in the library. The Book of the Dead. She read silently, running her hand across the title. Suddenly, she dropped the book as a sharp pain surged though her forehead. She put her palm up to brow and pressed it hard against her throbbing skull. She was relieved when the pain stopped. She picked up the book and put it back on the shelf and went back to her room.
Walking though the empty hallways, she could hear her own footsteps loudly pitter pattering on the warm stone floor, that was swimming with Charter Marks. She walked quickly not wanting to meet anyone, she really wasn't the social type, besides she really wasn't supposed to be out quite so late. She turned the corner and walked down the corridor to her room. She went in and shut the door quietly. She wiped her head. She was sweating profusely. She felt sick, so she laid down on her bed. She wanted to sleep, but her eyes stayed wide open. She was too tired to sleep. She thought about the mysterious book. She had never seen it there before, but she remembered it. Where did she see it? A dream perhaps? Then she had the sudden urge to go back and look for it. But before the thought had fully sunk in she had already drifted into sleep.
There was another fog, far away from the smog of Corvere. Six hundred miles to the north, across the Wall that separated Ancelstierre from the Old Kingdom. The Wall where the Old Kingdom's magic really began and Ancelstierre's modern technology failed. This fog was different from its far-southern cousin. It was not white but the dark grey of a storm cloud, and it was completely unnatural. This fog had been spun from air and Free Magic and was born on a hilltop far from any water. It survived and spread despite the heat of a late-spring afternoon, which should have burned it into nothing.
Ignoring sun and light breezes, the fog spread from the hill and rolled south and east, thin tendrils creeping out in advance of the main body. Half a league on from the hill, one of these tendrils separated into a cloud that rose high in the air and crossed the mighty river Ratterlin. Once across, it sank to sit like a toad on the eastern bank, and new fog begun to puff out of it.
Soon the two arms of fog shrouded both western and eastern shores of the Ratterlin, though the sun still shone on the river in between. Both river and fog sped at their very different paces towards the Long Cliffs. The river dashed along, getting faster and faster as it headed to the great waterfall, where it would plunge down more than a thousand feet. The fog was slow and threatening. It thickened and rose higher as it rolled on.
A few yards before it reached the Long Cliffs, the fog stopped, though it still grew thicker and rose higher, threatening the island that sat in the middle of the river and on the edge of the waterfall. An island with high white walls that enclosed a house and gardens.
The fog did not spread across the river, nor lean in too far as it rose. There were unseen defenses that held it back, that kept the sun shining on the white walls, the gardens, and the red-tiled house. The fog was a weapon, but it was only the first move in a battle, only the beginning of a siege. The battle lines were drawn and the House invested.
For the whole river-circled isle was Abhorsen's House. Home to the Abhorsen, whose birthright and charge was to maintain the borders of Life and Death. The Abhorsen, who used necromantic bells and Free Magic, but who was neither necromancer nor Free Magic sorcerer. The Abhorsen, who sent any Dead who trespassed in Life back to whence they came.
The creator of the fog knew that the Abhorsen was not actually in the House. The Abhorsen and her husband, the King, had been lured across the Wall and would presumably be dealt with there. That was part of her Master's plan, long since laid but only recently begun in earnest.
The plan had many parts, in many countries, though the very heart and reason for it lay in the Old Kingdom. War, assassination, and refugees were elements of the plan, all manipulated by a scheming, subtle mind that had waited generations for everything to come to fruition.
But as with any plan, there had already been complications and problems. Two of them were in the House. One was a young woman, who had been sent south by the witches who lived in the glacier-clad mountain at the Ratterlin's source. The Clayr, who Saw many futures in the ice, and who would certainly try to twist the present to their own ends. The woman was one of their elite mages, easily identified by the colored waistcoat she wore. A red waistcoat, marking her as a Second Assistant Librarian.
The maker of the fog had seen her, black haired and pale skinned, surely no older than twenty, a mere fingernail sliver of an age. She had heard the young woman's name, called out in desperate battle. Lirael.
Xandrael awoke from the dream. Her head aching more than ever. She clenched her teeth. Her eyes filled with tears. She screamed into her pillow, she couldn't stand the pain any longer. She lay stiffly on her bed grasping her sweat drenched sheets. And all memories of the dream were forgotten.
She must have passed out from the pain, because she woke again later. The pain was gone, but she was still quite warm. She was feeling hungry so she decided to go to the kitchen to get something to eat, she figured by the sun that it was already after lunch.
There was still no one in the hallways as she walked down the hall toward the kitchen. When she got to the kitchen it was almost empty three or four kitchen worker and a couple people sitting down stairs in the Lower Refectory where the vistors ate. Normally the Refectory was full of merchants and soldiers, but today there were only two soldiers, laughing loudly at something that was probably not funny at all. Like, the look on a corpses face after his head had been severed from his body at the blade of one of their swords. Xandrael sneered at them and strode to the back of the kitchen.
"Sorry love there's not much now. You should have came earlier." An older woman said handing her a plate of cold chicken and brown rice. Xandrael didn't care she was starving and she couldn't have come earlier even if she had wanted to.
She went to sit down in the Lower Refectory on the opposite side that the soldiers were sitting on. She put her plate down first then stepped over the bench and sat down. She noticed both the soldiers eyeing her. They must not have caught the first sneer so she winced at them this time. The soldiers laughter stopped and they turned around back to a much quieter conversation.
Soon the two soldiers left and Xandrael was all alone. She sat there eating the remainder of her breakfast. It was more like dinner actually.
It was four o'clock when Xandrael left the dining hall. She thought she'd catch up on some reading, while she had the opportunity. The library would probably be empty other than a librarian or two that had not gone to The Watch.
Xandrael opened the large iron doors of the library and glided in. She thought she would look for the book that she had come across last night. It some how intridged her. She went back to the spot she had found it, but it wasn't there.
Soon she found her self searching the whole library. Finally she came to the restricted room. Though, not restricted at all to anyone save her. All anyone else had to do was ask and they were let in. She was quite aggravated by the fact that The Clayr were hiding thing from her. Like what really had happened to her parents and why she wasn't allowed to know about any of her family or most of the things going on in the Glacier. It wasn't just that, but it seemed everyone knew the answers but her.
Xandrael's curiosity got the best of her like it often did and she decided to go in. Her restricted section was a small room filled with books she was not permitted to read. The actual restricted sections were off limits to all but head librarians and the more powerful Clayr, they were protected by a number of Charter spells and armed librarians. Xandrael heard stories about the restricted sections. They were often rooms holding horrible creatures with only one book. A very powerful, useful book, that must be protected. And a very terrible creature that must be kept confined, for if it escaped it would reek much havoc on the outside world. These rooms were all over the library on every level.
Xandrael's lilliputian restricted room was only protected by one small Charter spell, of course still a spell too powerful for her to break. Though Xandrael was surrounded by Charter magic she never got the hang of using it, due to her lack of magical reading material and besides even if she did know a spell she wasn't strong enough to use it. But, being the very stubborn girl she was she tried anyway.
Xandrael closed her eyes and gathered all the Charter Marks she thought she would need. It took her a long time to do this because of her inexperience casting spells. She opened her mouth and let the marks flow out, she assumed this wouldn't work but at least she could say she tried. Well, actually she couldn't say anything. She was breaking the rules, you don't just go around telling people you've broken rules. Especially with her Aunt Kirrith, the prision warden.
When Xandrael opened her eyes nothing had changed. She sighed and turned to walk away, but then she heard the door creek open. She turned back around to see the door to the room now open. The books were all calling to her. She walked slowly towards the room, it was barely five breasts wide and six beasts long, with a small table in the center. On the table sat the book she sought. It was as if someone or something had wanted her to find the book there, A large, black, leather bound book, with gold leaf spelling out the title. The Book of the Dead. She ran her fingers over the title and opened the book. She felt a twinge of pain run though her fingers to her head where her Charter Mark was. She gasped as the pain worsened then went away. Xandrael sat down in one of the chairs at the table and began to read. She was hardly conscious of anything around her and her mide began to drift into sleepy thoughts.
When Xandrael woke it was dark and the door was closed. Charter Marks swam on the walls between book shelves, giving off a faint eerie glow. She looked down at the book in front of her. She knew she had finished the book, but could remember nothing of it. She closed the book and flipped the book back over to display its front cover. The title that was once as clear as day had now faded and the cover was blank. Xandrael got up from her seat and opened the door. The library was dark. She was surprised no one had come looking for her or even caught her in there and even more surprised she was even able to penitrate the room in the first place. But, she figured that seeing as how she was not the most fantastic being to ever walk the earth and most of the Clayr were gone there wouldn't be anyone looking for her.
Xandrael concluded that she would stay for a little while longer so she could read a few more books. She longed to know what was kept from her for so long. She looked though the small collection of books none of them really satisfied her hunger so to speak. Then she saw something. She pulled the book out and stared at it. There was no title unlike the rest of the books and it was much more diminutive than most of the tomes she had seen in the space. She undid the twine that kept it shut and opened it gently. A diary. It was a diary of a woman. Lirael. She had heard that name before, but not in consciousness.
Strange new words filled her head. She saw new things "The sword of the Abhorsen." "Necromancer's bells." And She learned of new people; Prince Sameth, King Touchstone, Sabriel the Abhorsen, Lirael the Abhorsen, Nicholas Lirael's love. Strange, but it felt as if she recognized those names. She wished she could remember more, maybe these people knew her parents. Maybe these people were her family. Xandrael felt as if she was standing on the edge of a lake that she wasn't able to completely dive into.