DISCLAIMER: "Abhorsen", all names, places, and all related indicia are the sole property of Garth Nix, who'se work rocks my fluffy brown socks.(is that the official disclaimer?)

Night moves

The driving snow made visibility next to zero on the Ancelstierre side of the wall, and for once, the same could be said for the Old Kingdom side. This close to the wall, and Barhedrin hill, a traveller was unlikely to die of exposure, if the traveller were to seek shelter immediately, but the poor visibility and blanketing snow would erase any tracks a traveller made, making chances of survival poor for the hypothetical traveller. Law wanted to find shelter now, but that wasn't what he was being paid for.

"Close it up or we'll lose men!" he turned and yelled at the fuzzy figure who was less than a meter behind him.

"What?" the figure yelled back, that's what Law thought he yelled back, anyway. The snow also blanketed sound, and the figure had swathed his face in a white scarf. Law pumped his fist in the air three times; that would have to do, they'd get the message when he sped up.

Lawrence reached the boulder at the position that the group had described for him as suitable shelter months ago; more of a windbreak really. He was well ahead of the group and managed to erect a tent well before the last soldier entered the comparative calm of the lee side of the boulder. Those that arrived first were skewering him with hateful glances as they set the four man tents up. The first one to finish, also the tallest approached him.

"Hey dick head," Law turned his head to look at him, "What the fuck is you're problem?"

He obviously didn't like Law, and the rest seemed to share his sentiments. They'd probably crucify him if he broke shorty's arm.

"The fact that we could have left when it was sunny, and then you wouldn't need me." He replied.

"We're not exactly sure we need you now actually." Someone said from behind him, Law didn't know who, but he had a general idea.

"Gentlemen, shut the hell up." Their leader said, Law didn't even know his rank. All the men quietened down and the leader sat down next to a boulder. Having already erected a tent by himself, Law figured it was OK to sit with him.

"So..." he began

"So what." the leader snapped at him.

"Is there a reason I don't know who you all are or what you're all doing?" The leader took a cigar out of his pocket and lit a match.

"Maybe. None of you're fucking business." His match went out, and Law tossed him his zippo lighter.

"Use mine." The leader tried to light it.

"Gee whiz. It's not working." he tossed it back.

The storm had passed two hours before dawn, which meant that they had trudged through it for an hour or so. Law had discarded his NVG's which were faulty, and he had also discarded all his faith in the organisation of this operation. By the time they saw the sun, they were well past Barhedrin Hill, having passed under the cover of cloud and night. The weather seemed to be clearing, and soon his presence would become unnecessary; the next ridge was where his orders were to leave the group anyway. As with the night before, he got there well before the others did. They all gathered, and Law sat in the snow, hugging his knees.

"Well Gents, this is as far as I go, good luck with the mission, make us all proud. I was glad to help." Empty words, really, he thought they were all arseholes.

"Thanks Law," the Leader looked around, "We're all here and we know what to do. You go home, glad to have you along." He was glad to be rid of the group, a feeling he knew was reciprocated a dozen times over. They probably did want to crucify him, so he thought nothing more of his hasty dismissal. No watches, HQ had said, but he judged that he was around 46 hours ahead of schedule. He was in a pristine, snowy landscape, and immediately regretted not having brought skis along, this hill was the tallest one for miles. He could see a village on the other side of a valley from here, and a small wood well south of the village. Skiing from here would have been a blast. Law decided he wanted a souvenir, a good one, and spotted a funny looking rock at the foot of the hill. He walked down to inspect it and found that he had led the group in a circle. They were the night vision goggles that he had discarded well before dawn. He frowned; they had ended up in the right place, so... what? The only conclusion he could come to was that the mission they were on was hopelessly organised. He was so deep in thought he almost missed the ski tracks following their trail. When he noticed them, he drew his silenced 9 mm pistol (a covert mission, he had been told). He inspected them, and saw that they were going in the same direction that they had been walking. He had a general idea where the tracks would lead; over the tall hill. He scaled it from a different angle, it took almost no time at all. He lay prone in the snow and crawled to a small snow drift; when he arrived he saw there was a log underneath. Propped up on the log, he watched the place where he and the group had separated, he doubted that the skier would have passed there already. He was rewarded when he saw a figure in white, with skis strapped to his back pick his way past the rocks before the insertion point. He watched the figure kneel in the snow; inspecting all the footprints, but was surprised to see the figure follow his tracks instead of the groups.

"Drop you're weapons." Law ordered, with his 9mm pointed squarely at the man's back as he skulked by on the rocky ground. The man dropped his skis and ski poles, more irritated than annoyed. He turned.

"Law." He said, drawing a sword.

"Who are you?" Law asked, looking down the sight of his weapon.

"An assassin. Sent to kill you." he replied, and advanced slowly.

"I have a gun, fuckwit." Law reminded the assassin, he'd shoot when the assassin was at 2 metres.

The assassin smiled and quickened his pace.

Click.

Lawrence cleaned his garrote on the snow and examined the sword. A cheap piece of crap, and blunt too. Would've hurt like a bastard.

As the assassin had charged him, Law had thrown his gun at his face, but the assassin had expected that, and had battered the flying gun aside. Law pulled his bayonet, and dived aside as the assassin had tried to run him through. He rolled for a few metres, and flipped back to his feet. The assassin faced him, sword at the guard position. His bayonet was of the type that the perimeter garrison used; extra long, 60 cm. He was a good knife fighter, maybe he stood a chance. The assassin advanced, with more restraint. He swung his sword one handed, and Law parried it as best he could. The assassin punched him in the jaw, sending him sprawling. Law rolled again, right into a tree. He got up and rounded the trunk just as the sword crashed into the tree, sending a spray of dry, frozen bark into the snow. The sword was stuck, and the assassin was grunting with exertion, trying to pull it out. Law rounded the trunk and gave him a solid kick in the side. Ribs snapped, and the assassin fell to the ground wheezing.

"Why?" Law kicked the assassin in the same spot, broke his arm at the elbow and kneed him in the stomach as he raised him by the lapels before asking the question.

"They're gonna kill the Abhorsen!" he cried out. Law sucker punched him.

"Who?"

"The twelve guys you guided in here, you pinko bitch!" The assassin grinned at him, blood stained his teeth.

"Why?"

"How the fuck should I know! Orders! You got the shit job 'cause of the shit you pulled in the insurrection!"

Law saw no advantage in keeping the assassin alive, so he drew his garrote and strangled him.

He had met the Abhorsen once. He was one of the few in Corvere that weren't loyal to or paid by Corolini during the Corvere insurrection. Until he had been forced to join his guard, taken from the best from the ranks of Ancelstierre's special forces. He despised Corolini, and had put a bullet in his head at the first opportunity. When the fighting was over, it turned out that he had chosen the side of righteousness; some bad motherfucker, Orannis, in the North had been siding with Corolini, and had been routed. The Prime Minister of Ancelstierre had pinned a medal on his chest, and so had the Abhorsen. The assassin had said that the plan was to kill her, so he assume that was the 'shit he'd pulled'. Someone was out to get even.

"They should have given you a crossbow, friend." He said, as he buried the assassin in the snow. The objective was the Abhorsen, and he couldn't really see how it would be achieved. The plan until now however, made perfect sense. They had equipped him well south of the wall, and taken him to the wall by horse and cart, to 'blend in with the locals.' They shown him maps of the 'planned route', but never pictures, or first hand reconnaissance to ensure he didn't find out some of the stories he'd been told of this place were true. They had gone on the snowiest day possible so any tracks they made would be wiped clean, so they had needed him to get as far as they had. From there, Law figured that the plan was to lure the Abhorsen and her apprentice into some kind of trap, but they could well be after the entire royal family. He had to assume the worst. He finished burying the assassin and picked up the trail again. He was in a very interesting position; he could stop this plot in it's tracks. Ancelstierre would think he was dead, and so would the twelve. As long as he remained hidden, he would have the power to intervene.

Well, don't just sit there, review (if you think it's worth it. Please, think it's worth it!!!).

This is my first fanfic, and it's all done, drafted that is. I don't have time for all of it today though.

The whole thing might have turned up here, i'm not sure. If it did, it's cause i'm an idiot.

I've shown it to a couple of my friends, they think it's entertaining... and weird...

Please, review.