Authors Note: Thank-you so much for reviewing, srjj90 and Renowe! Here's chapter three for ya', hope it's better than the last chapter.
Chapter 3
'Chapter One' Chlorr muttered as she began the book. Suddenly, it didn't seem so frightening; just a book. But in the back of her mind she heard that inhuman screech of the Dead and felt the fear that came with it. It wasn't the book, but the secrets the book held that made it so important. She continued to read, letting that small part of her brain be overcome with the intake of knowledge.
It seemed like minutes, but soon she reached the end of the book. 'Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?' The books final adage still echoed through her brain. Mogget was sitting near the water, staring at something beneath the murky surface. Chlorr shut the latch noiselessly and slipped it back under her cover of leaves. She would have asked Mogget what he was doing, if it weren't for fear of breaking his concentration. Instead, she gathered more firewood and reset the fire. It was almost sunset; she had spent the whole day engulfed in the book. Mogget suddenly surged his paw forward into the water and when the white paw emerged, a glistening fish came with it. Chlorr nearly jumped a foot in the air at his sudden, sharp movement. He quickly bit the fish, stopping its flopping.
Mogget set it down next to her and licked his lips. "You can cook, can't you?" he said suddenly.
"Yes, but I have no pot to cook it in," Chlorr replied. "I suppose I should set another diamond of protection? The Dead should arrive soon." Her voice didn't quake at the words, as it would have not to long ago. Her mind was getting used to the idea of Dead things, although she would need another night to sleep on it.
He nodded. "You can cook it on a thin rock. It will take a while to heat, but it should work." Mogget suggested, ignoring her second question. Chlorr promptly found such a rock and set the fish on its surface to cook after washing it in the river. She then set another diamond of protection around the camp, this time trying it with her sword. Although the weight was awkward in her hand, she managed to sketch the symbols in the dirt. "You should try some fencing," Mogget muttered, curling up into a ball as the sun fell behind the trees.
"I don't know anything about fencing. I need a teacher." Chlorr said, glancing at Mogget. "You don't happen to know, do you?" She pointed her blade in his direction. He must be good for something.
"Start with thrusts and basic sword-play," he sighed, then sat up from his recently assumed curled position. "I can teach you that much, Abhorsen." He stared down the swords edge up to her pale face. She looked away from his eyes, as if that would change her occupation from Abhorsen to seamstress. "Hold the sword in your left hand. Balance it, and thrust it forward," he instructed. She did as her said, but nearly fell forward from thrusting too hard. She tried several times before she got the hang of it. "Now slice horizontally." Chlorr tried a few times almost tripping over a root and cutting herself. Then she tried some vertical slices. Soon, the fish was ready.
Chlorr cut it with her blade, removed the bones and tossed Mogget half of it, then ate the rest of it herself. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she began to eat. The fish meat was skimpy, and not too flavorful. She soon wished Mogget had caught another fish. Slipping some more tea leaves into her mouth, she began to hear the Dead approach. Their moldy muscles and broken bones rattling and sometimes falling off. They shuffled clumsily over each other, with no mind but to get at her. By this time, it was very dark.
"Let's begin our lessons once more." Mogget said, his voice slipping out of the shadows. Chlorr nodded and spit out her leaves. She couldn't see Mogget, but she guessed his location from the sound of his voice. She unsheathed her sword and waited for instructions. She saw his emerald gaze pierce through the gloom. Suddenly, the Charter Marks for her diamond that had flared so brightly lost all their light, as if something had sucked the power out of them. "Practice makes perfect," the cat's voice sent shivers rippling down her spine, and the slight tinkling of Mogget's bell resonated in her ears.
The Dead noticed the change immediately; a few even surged forth into the mighty Ratterlin's dark waters. She gulped and looked back to Mogget. He was gone. But where? That question would have to wait. She took a deep breath, but she couldn't stop her shaking. Suddenly she felt that spark of courage grow in her, from where she couldn't tell. She took a step forward then waded halfway across the gap. There were five hands that hadn't jumped into the water. They gazed at her with hunger—a hunger for the living.
When she got within two feet she rebalanced her spelled sword and held it at the ready. A Dead Hand lashed out at her, and she reacted just too slow, her sword weakly slicing a finger as the arm was pulled back. The thing screamed, while another pulsed forward. She thrust her sword into the Dead's stomach and flung it behind her. The Hand was lighter than she thought, but her arm protested still. Her eyes were wide. Now they were lashing out constantly and she desperately tried to think of something to do. She thought she heard a bell chiming as she progressed slowly onto land. The water flowed by her ankles and she was now struggling in a flurry of Dead screaming and her sword cutting through Dead flesh. Her mind was a jumble of half-finished thoughts and her sword seemed to move of its own accord, striking Dead constantly. She found herself crying as the Dead attacked her over and over again. But she didn't sob, the tears merely rolled down her almost white cheeks. Her face was more white than usual, all the color having left it for fear.
"Kibeth" she heard Mogget say from at her feet. She glanced down for a second, ducking from a swinging arm. "Ring Kibeth!" he said once more. Of course! She had forgotten about the bells. They were strapped across her chest, identifying her as a necromancer. She slipped her hand down from Ranna the Sleeper to Kibeth the Walker. She flipped the pouch open and pulled the bell carefully from the leather after throwing another Dead Hand into the river. Pages from The Book of the Dead flashed in her memory, the diagrams and directions for using the bells flying through her mind. She held it up and rang the bell in an arch pattern. Its tone carried far and all the remaining Dead soon found themselves walking back into death.
She let out a breath she had been holding for what seemed like an eternity. She had a deep scratch on her shoulder and her blade was covered in rotting skin. She let the blade slip into the water, then pulled it out and re-sheathed it. "Thank-you," she said to Mogget between breaths of air. He merely jumped onto her shoulders and lay down.
Soon she was back on her small island and had redrawn the diamond of protection. "How did you do it?" she asked Mogget. "Take down my diamond, that is." He opened one green eye then closed it. She stared at his soft white fur for a few minutes then realized he wasn't going to reply. Dousing the fire, she heard more Dead shambling through the woods. There must be a graveyard nearby, for there to be so many bodies. She lay down, and then the pain washed over her. Her left arm throbbed from using her sword and she could still feel the water flowing around her thighs.
There were many things Mogget wasn't telling her. He had power that she didn't know of. She could see knowledge behind his eyes, and the marks on his collar were ancient. Suddenly, she realized that the bell on his collar was a miniature Saraneth, the Binder. One of the Dead screamed on the eastern shore and images of the Dead attacking her flooded her with fear. At the time, she had thought nothing but that she must fight. She let these feelings wash over her and bring her to an uneasy sleep.