As soon as Mark walked through the gate, he began to run. After he had taken his first few steps, the spell that held the Second Gate for him also let go the wave of the Third Precinct that it was holding back.

As Mark ran, he did not look back. If he did, he would slow down enough to be hit by the wave, and be vulnerable to the dead in the Fourth Precince, if there were any.

Mark thought back to the days when his teacher, mentor, and master, the Abhorsen had taken him into death to learn how to traverse the treacherous ways.

They had only gone to the Sixth Precinct, but Mark felt that with his genral sense of death, he would be able to tackle the other Precincts that he had only studied about. He now doubted that he could survive past the Sixth Precinct, but he knew that to save his master, he would need to go further even than that, perhaps to the Ninth Precinct.

He felt the wave nearing him, and then he saw the Third Gate. Without stopping, he yelled the words for the gate, and ran through to safety just in time. As soon as he had passed through the waterclimb, the wave hit the wall he had passed through.

As he looked around the Fourth Precinct, he saw and sensed nothing, and relaxed. The Fourth Precinct tended to be empty, because the stunned Dead from the Third Precinct washed straight through to the Fifth. Grabbing his sword, he prodded in front of him, because this Precinct had many holed, and if you fell, you are trapped there untill something or someone pulls you out. As he sidestepped a hole in front of him, he sensed something was wrong.

The Precinct was quiet. No rushing of the Fourth Gate. Nothing.

Mark knew what that meant. A Greater Dead or a Necromancer was coming from the Fifth Precint. He put his sword up into a defensive position, and then quickly grabbed Saraneth, ready to ring it if needed.

Mark tensed, hearing the roar of the Fourth gate again. He looked over at the Fourth Gate.

When he looked at the Fourth Gate, he saw a man, wreathed in flames. A Necromancer. A Free Magic sorceror. Evil.

Mark tensed, ready to ring Saraneth if the Necromancer tried to use Saraneth too, but realized something strange. The Necromancer had not noticed him. In face, the Necromancer had his back to him. As Mark puzzled over what he was doing, he heard a whistle, and the roar of the Fourth Gate stopped again. The Necromancer was calling a spirit he had bound from the Fifth Precinct.

Mark slowly made his way twoards the Necromancer, making sure the Necromancer didn't notice him, checking for holes, and maneuvering around them.

Quickly he got past the feild of holes, and was only five feet away from the foul being. The stench of Free Magic nauseated Mark, but the Necromancer was a weak Necromancer, so the Free Magic stench did not render him useless. After wating for a few seconds to make sure that the Necromancer didn't notice him, he rang Saraneth.

Right then, the Necromancer turned around, Saraneth in hand, and rang it too. As they battled for domination over the other's will, the Greater Dead exploded out of the Fourth Gate, breaking both of their concentration. Mark quickly rang again before the Necromancer could do anything. As the Necromancer was about to send his Greater Dead at Mark, he froze, unable to do anything except what Mark said he could. Mark took the Necromancers bandolier of bells, and threw them into one of the holes behind him.

"What is your name?" Mark asked the Necromancer commandingly.

"Shade" the Necromancer hissed angry.

"Well, Shade, send your Greater Dead past the Ninth Gate, never to return." Mark commanded. The Necromancer hissed, and began to speak.

"Ammonon the Destroyer, walk beyond the Ninth Gate, and never return!" The Necromancer commanded angrily, using the Greater Dead's true name. It roared at him as it's spirit was sucked twoards the Ninth Gate.

"Now, Shade, tell me where the Abhorsen is hidden" Mark commanded.

The Necromancer hissed happily, tauntingly. "He is trapped far in death by one of my lords minions, for he wishes to break the Great Charter."

Could this be true? Mark asked himself, disturbed. Then he snapped back to attention.

"Who is your master?" Mark asked

"Who else but Kerrigor? After we freed him, he wants revenge on this new bloodline of Abhorsen, Clayr, and the Royal family.

"Where are they taking the Abhorsen?" Mark asked. The Necromancer started laughing. Mark could feel his controll over the Necromancer waning. And like when you stretch a rubber band too far, it snapped.

Laughing, the Necromancer jumped at Mark, knife in hand. Mark swung his sword up and at the Necromancer, slicing through knife and neck alike. The dead Necromancer slumped to the ground, head hanging on to the body by just a thread.

Mark stood over the Necromancer, seeing the suprise in his face, showing that he had barely a second before he realized he was dead.

Too bad Mark thought, pitying Shade He was just a kid. But a Necromancer is a Necromancer He reminded himself.

Is Kerrigor really trying to break the Great Charter Stones? Mark thought to himself, and shuddered. I must stop him before he destroys the power of the Charter

Wiping his sword on the Necromancers clothes, Mark stood up, and spoke the words to the Fourth Gate, and put Saraneth away carefully. And with little more, Mark walked through the Fourth Gate.