Disclaimer: The Old Kingdom series, which this is based on, does not belong to me. It's copyrighted Garth Nix. Only the plot (however scarce of that there may be) belongs to me. :)

Author's Note: This first chapter is kind of short, a bit fast-paced and not very well written… but next chapter I'll do my best to make it better. I'd love for some helpful critique from anyone at all, whether you enjoyed it or not. Thank-you!


-This story takes place far in the past, before Sabriel and her mêlée with Kerrigor.The trouble has just begun in the Old Kingdom, slightly before the Interregnum, and the people of a small village are faced with the disturbing threat of the Dead…

When the Dead Do Walk
Chapter One: A Distraught Elder

The Elder looked down on the children with a wide smile. She crouched to their height, old bones creaking with the effort. Looking each child in their wide, ingenuous eye, she folded her wrinkled hands in front of her expectantly. She seemed about to say something, but paused for a moment as a twig snapped far in the distance. She looked around in one quick movement that no one caught; her attention then again focused on the group of children before her. Finally, she was ready to begin in her bold, craggy voice,

"Children! I am pleased you have gathered here with me today! I ask only one thing of you and it is this: do each of you know and understand thoroughly the rhyme of the Dead that has been taught to you?"

The cluster nodded in inept unison, though the Elder was not satisfied with merely a bob of the head.

"If everyone would be so kind, I ask that you sing it to me now, so I will know no one here lies," A flicker of anxiety escaped her wise eyes, "I do not like it when children lie."

Uneasily, the children looked at each other, troubled by the Elder's fearful eyes. As they were advised, they erratically began the rhyme they were taught what seemed so long ago,

"When the Dead do walk, seek waters run
For this the Dead will always shun
Deep rivers best, or broadest lake
To ward the Dead and haven make
If water fails thee, fires thy friend
If neither guards it shall be thy end."

The Elder observed some children did not know it as well as others, but their endeavor sufficed. She sighed, and with a slight flick of her wrist she dismissed the small assembly. They ran off in a tumult of excited shouts and shrieks, rushing to become brave knights and beautiful princesses in a forgotten land of magic. The Elder wished she could gain some of their ignorant nature.

Getting firmly to her feet, she glanced around to meet the stare of a young woman with a concerned sentiment about her. She dusted the elaborately stitched long skirt she wore rather unreasonably and feebly ambled over to the woman. They embraced briefly and looked on the village they lived in with hidden sorrow.

"My daughter, I am troubled," The Elder began, "… I fear the Dead."

"There is always the threat of the Dead…" The Elder's daughter began softly, her hands reaching lovingly to her mother, trying to comfort her. But she only shook her head sadly.

"There is greater peril this year," She explained, and hesitated, "I see them in the woods. Not only Dead Hands, but Shadow Hands as well. Waiting, watching. It's as if they linger on command. It frightens me to no end."

The woman sighed and looked longingly at the sky. If only the Abhorsen would come. If only more sinister and evil things weren't brewing elsewhere. If only they lived just a little closer to the great river, the Ratterlin. If only.

"I know what you speak of and I fear it, too. I wish only to deny it, though I know it useless. Have you explained to the younger children? What to do, that is, if… if…" The woman paused to take a deep, unsteady breath, "if… the Dead attack?"

"They know the rhyme and the quickest way to the Ratterlin," The Elder confirmed, "They know not to go near the wood under any circumstances. They know all these things. What I dread they lack is experience. We have not the time to show them exactly the way, exactly what to do. I focus on our defenses."

"As do I. I have taught all who can the Charter spells for burning and rending the Dead's rotten flesh useless. We have gathered all swords entrenched with Charter marks, however few that is. Older boys and girls are being taught how to best use their abilities if such a war were to break out. But I feel these things are useless. We should be running, running to the Ratterlin, running to safety, running to life. I believe only death will come here."

"I wish we could run, also, my dear. But I, at least, cannot. This is my village, my home. I will not sit and watch as the Dead overcome us so easily. They will not destroy what I have built. Not my pride, not my house, not my village, not my life."

"I would love to say I have your courage, mother, but I cannot. I am scared for everything's safety: the houses, the livestock, the people, the children. I am scared for my own daughter. She is reckless, being young. She tests my nerves every day. I want peace for the little while we may have it, but she strives for adventure and ruthless fun."

"It is her nature. You yourself were no angel from above. It runs in her blood, this audacious behavior. She is only the age of five—she has time to change. But we must make that time for her."

"Yes, we must. I would love to see the day she becomes an esteemed young woman with lovely ambitions. It is what I desire most."

"Then we must be strong for my granddaughter, for all granddaughters. We must make time for them. However, I do not expect to see you grow any older, nor do I expect to see your daughter grow into this young woman you speak of. The Dead will attack soon, I feel. I have no doubt I will perish in this battle."

The Elder looked toward her daughter, surprised to see tears welling up in her eyes. She gracefully took her up in a tight hug, kissing her lightly on the cheek. They stood there, mother and daughter, watching the afternoon sun wane to dusk. They both knew what might come with the sun's descent, though they wished they did not. For that short moment, they could pretend, like the children, that nothing mattered. They could forget about their responsibilities and obligations. They could forget everything. Everything including the ever watching Dead.