Lirael didn't expect the strength of the current, and it took her hard so that as she emerged in death, she wobbled precariously and stood, wavering as she steadied herself.

She managed to stand, and looked up to find, in horror the state of the first precinct.

The current was swirling hard, a great surge of grey water whose current had become unnaturally rough and unpredictable – even for waters of death.

Lirael pushed her hair roughly away from her face, unsheathed her sword a little from it's scabbard, and quickly took Saraneth from its pouch strapped across her chest. The current was gathering motion, and should, most certainly not be this strong. As she watched a dead spirit who was trying to struggle upstream on spindly legs. The current was clearly taking its toll on it, but just to be sure, Lirael wet her lips and let out a shrill, loud note that sent the dead spirit tumbling past the first gate, head over heels, screaming wildly.

            As she took her first step, the current tugged harder, and she found it deeper – reaching her thighs.

'I am the Abhorsen!' she declared to death, in a loud clear voice, slightly infused with the charter.

'I shall walk in death freely! It is my right!'

Hesitantly, the current faltered a little, and the depth shrank gradually around her ankles, where it should be.

Satisfied, Lirael waded on. Something is very wrong, she thought as the approached the first gate with no precautions. There was no time for such luxuries.

Striding to the wall of mist that separated her from the second precinct, Lirael plunged into her mind and the words of free magic spilled from her mouth in  a wave of spitting sparks and heat, making her mouth feel as though she had eaten raw chilli peppers.

There was no hesitation as she strode through the parted mists, however.

            What met them on the other side was a series of waterfalls – all dropping merciless fathoms below her.

            Unsheathing her sword, Lirael indicated to the path that she wanted to travel by, and spoke yet more free-magic words to scorch her mouth and throat. The waterfall parted, like the mists to let her through, and she ran on.

Coming to the Second precinct, she stopped suddenly, remembering the false safety that the second precinct lured the unwary charter mage to.

            Vaguely, she recalled the first time she had walked here, and how, without the Disreputable Dog, her haste would have meant her own destruction, and the world as she knew it.

            However, she was in no hurry now, and gently she probed gingerly at the water, making sure there was definitely solid under her feet where she turned, counting her steps and remembering carefully to stop at ten, as she had once not done before. Not so careless now.

Once at ten, Lirael stopped, and looked up to find herself gazing down at the Second Gate.

It made her feel dizzy and slightly ill to watch it: a large, gaping hole that was covered only by swirling whirlpool, a large, merciless swirl of black water that promised no returns once a careless mage stepped into it.

Taking a deep steadying breath, Lirael spoke the free magic words that would turn the whirlpool into a creepy winding staircase, leading down to the third precinct: one of Lirael's least favourite.

As she descended the stairs, she gathered her strength for the run she was about to face, hoping that neither Sabriel nor Touchstone's spirits had been left down there.

            As she left the staircase which slowly wound itself up into its whirlpool state once more, Lirael broke into a flat-out run.

Up ahead, she thought she saw a dark-haired figure disappear beyond the third gate, and this drove her legs into a yet faster speed, so fast that she was almost tripping up on her own feet.

            She could feel the wave gathering, ready to bowl her over and send her flying. It was too fast! She thought desperately, I'm not going to make it!

It was true. The edge of the wave nipped at her ankles and she screamed, pumping her arms harder.

There was the third gate! She must make it! She could barely speak the words for lack of breath, but she gabbled them breathlessly nonetheless…

            Before the current picked up her feet from behind and tossed her hard… right through the fourth gate.

Lirael tumbled forward, head over heels, over and over, her mind spinning. She did not realise that she had stopped moving until she tried to take breath, and realised that she was face down in the freezing waters. Spluttering, she lifted herself up, conscious that the small current had only carried her a little way through the fourth precinct. For this she was grateful, and took a long, shuddering breath of relief.

She walked numbly forward, almost cautiously. She had no idea how she had managed to clutch both bell and sword to her through the tumble, but both were still in her hand – though Lirael was afraid to clutch the handle – instead she clutched the gong on the inside to keep it from ringing, and, remembering what lay ahead of the fourth gate, put Saraneth away and took out Ranna instead as an afterthought.

As calmly as she could, Lirael stopped several feet away from the Fourth gate and spoke the words to unravel her only means of getting past this gate and through the Fifth Precinct.

            A dark stretch of path, a clear cut mass slowly appeared before her, offering her a safe route through the metamorphic-effect of the Fifth Precinct, whose dark and too-deep waters could horribly misshape a normal spirit and body.

Lirael was not vain, as such, but she feared this Precinct a little more than the rest for fear of the properties of its heavy waters.

Unfortunately, she had not gone far into the Precinct when a stray death spirit decided o take its chance and use her path as an escape route.

She felt it coming, her stomach knotting nervously as she held Ranna in defence position, bracing herself for the oncoming attacker. She spotted it through the murky grey air only vaguely.

It was horrible: horse-like in shape, but with dead, eaten skin, knobbly and grey-green. Its hog like face recognised Lirael as only one thing: an obstacle on its way out of death, and suddenly, without warning, it ran forward, screeching its attack in a blood-curdling scream.

Taken a back, Lirael fumbled with Ranna, but managed to ring the bell firmly in a figure-of-eight, willing the creature to sleep as she raised her sword to trace marks of peace in the foggy air.

The dead thing stumbled and tripped as its holey eyelids closed and it grunted as its mind was stilled by Ranna's gentle lullaby. It fell, right across Lirael's path and only stopped at it reached her feet, its head submerged in the black mass of water.

            But as Lirael took a step forward, she found her surcoat tail was stuck underneath the dead-flesh and, with a horrible scream she too toppled and fell….

Ahhh! Oh no! What will Lirael do now? Will she too be surrendered to the distorting waters of the Fifth Precinct?? I would tell you, but that would be giving it away…

Wild Blood Rose