Hey, my first Fanfic of Garth Nix, so be as harsh on me as you want! I'm also looking for a beta reader; if anyone is available…I would really appreciate that. Please leave me a review with any comments or constructive criticism. Please? We all love reviews…
Disclaimer: I am not Garth Nix. Go figure.
The dead were marching closer from the north. Shudders of protest from the forest floor echoed. Trees that stood tall and proud were drooping with leaves falling as if the years were flying by in seconds. Lirael closed her eyes, concentrating on the final mark to complete the diamond of protection. She gasped, struggling to reach the master marks leaving desperation to pull it together. As the diamond finally came to place, weakly burning, her head began to spin. She hadn't felt this sick in years.
"I wish dog was here..." she spoke to herself, watching the sudden onslaught of dead creatures marching closer. Her limbs ached for her to lie down to rest and sleep. Inwardly she hoped Ellimere had reached the paperwing. She knew if she followed Ellimere, the gore crows would simply chase her, bringing them both down, but if Lirael fought, perhaps, Ellimere would have a chance. She snapped back to reality as an early straggler dead hand smashed into the diamond, burning into ashes, squealing. "Dog…help me..." she whispered to the air, summoning her courage. Dog, no, Kibeth, would have known what to do. She saw the rest of the dead approaching, there was so many, far too many to fight. Summoning what courage she had left, she knew what she had to do. Sabriel was still alive; perhaps there would be another Abhorsen, to take Lirael's place. Some distant relative. Suddenly, as the dead grew closer, she pulled Astarael, the sorrowful out of her safely bound leather pouch. "Help me Kibeth..." she repeated, a little louder, feeling the soapstone statute for the last time with her spare hand. She held Astarael up, and swung her slowly at first, the sweet melody starting soft, almost a small hum, before becoming louder and sweeter, breaking the diamond, reaching every dead, brining them crashing back into death, leaving a pile of grave mould in their place. The sweet tune carried over all the dead. Once the sorrowful tune subsided, the only sound that could be heard was the small clink, as a golden hand hit the ground, and the rolling of the final bell, silent, and sorrowful.
Many leagues away, a woman bent over a small green and red crystal, with a clear and icy center, showing the final battle. She smirked, her eyes flashing with pride. She had led the Abhorsen-in-waiting, to commit suicide, and the Princess, the next to the throne, had been captured, just a minute from her paperwing. Her dry lips broke into a coarse laugh, cracking as the reek of free magic swallowed the breathable air around her. She placed the crystal into her pocket, walking back to a large piece of parchment; her plan was far from complete. Soon, she would be ruling Belisaere, right from the princess's heart. Nothing could stop her now, and it was all that easy.