Authors Note: Okay, here's chapter 5! Sorry for making you wait so long! I hope this chapter was worth the wait.
Thanks everyone for your reviews—I probably wouldn't keep writing if I thought nobody read it.
Chapter 5
The day went quickly, and the group soon found themselves out of the forest and in the open valley between Mt. Aunden and the great Ratterlin. Night was falling fast and there was no where to camp where they would be safe from the Dead, so Chlorr insisted that they push forward.
"Abhorsen, I'm tired. Can't we rest?" Terciel said. He did look awfully tired. His shoulders were hunched and his head downcast. For a moment, Chlorr considered.
"No. We must keep going," she said, avoiding why they had to continue. She took long strides and kept her senses acute. She wouldn't let them sneak up on her.
"Well, why?" the question came out in a gasp, and the young man lifted his gaze to meet his aunt's.
"Well, there is danger that comes with the night, Terciel." she was trying to keep from saying it out loud, as if it hadn't really sunk in yet. "The Dead." There she said it. Perhaps he would keep up now.
Terciel crept closer to the Abhorsen, and even began to reach for her hand. Then, he silently pulled it back. He was nearly fifteen, he wasn't a little boy anymore.
"Mogget," Chlorr said, rather loudly. Terciel jumped. "Watch behind us." Mogget jumped from her shoulders and onto the boys.
"She's bossy." Mogget purred into the young mans ear. Terciel twitched slightly, either from the humor, or because of that cat purr tickling his ear. They continued on like this for another hour Mogget watching from behind, Chlorr from the front and Terciel as close to his aunt as he thought proper.
"We'll stop here." the Abhorsen said, her voice weary. "Terciel, do you know how to cast a diamond of protection?" The boy nodded. "I'll cast the north and east mark, you do south and west." Her dead sense tingled in the back of her mind. "Quickly." she added, hastily. She finished her marks and stared back the way they came. She could just see the moving figues of the Dead.
"Are you ready for your first encounter with the Dead?" Mogget asked the Abhorsen-in-Waiting.
"You mean I'll see them again?" Terciel coughed out the words, finishing up the diamond.
"We really should be looking for the stubborn necromancer that keeps sending us such wonderful presents!" The white cat's meow echoed out into the open valley. The lights from the marks kept the weakest of the Dead at bay, but some ignored it. They were stupid and determined--a bad combination. "You should go into Death and thank him." Mogget suggested. Chlorr knew he was right. Stupid cat.
"I've never--" she stopped herself. She couldn't let Terciel know about her inexperience. "Will you be coming with me?" Mogget nodded reluctantly. "Terciel, if the Dead happen to break the Diamond, you must protect my body, and your life. Can you use a sword?" The boy nodded. She handed him her sword, wordlessly. The Charter marks fluttered across the metal, catching the light from the Diamond.
Chlorr sat crossed-legged and put her hands in her lap, searching for the border between Life and Death. A cold chill touched her face, and she flinched away. Silently taking a breath, she plunged forward.
Terciel curled up in a ball and watched his aunt's body freeze over. He was too tired to wonder why it had happened. Mogget grinned, and jumped away into thin air. He'd worry about that later. The bravest of the Dead had gotten close enough to touch, had there not been a magical barrier between them. Their features were mutilated and sometimes missing, but the parts you could make out weren't smiling happy faces. Their joints were stiff, and muscles didn't seem to work the same once one had died. Their arms flailed every which way. One of them actually skimmed the Diamond. Bright light flared, and the thing screamed. The noise made the young Abhorsen-in-Waiting clutch his ears, trying to block out the sound.
Once the noise had stopped, Terciel flopped his hands down. What was he doing? A sword at his feet, his aunt frozen over, corpses flinging themselves at his party. How had this happened? Tears began to flow down his cheeks. They poured out uncontrollably, plopping onto his red breeches. Slowly, they stopped. He wiped his face with his sleeve and thanked the Charter that this had happened when he was alone. He knew that he had to suck it up, but he wasn't sure if he could.
His eyes closed for a minute. He shook his head, trying to wake himself up. He couldn't go to sleep. He had to protect the Abhorsen...
His eyes closed once more, and this time he hadn't the strength to open them. Sleep overcame him.
Chlorr fell into the waters of the First Precinct. Quickly, she pulled herself out of the freezing river before the current could sweep her away, farther into Death. She could just feel the warmth of Life at her back. She could turn around, and she'd be safe. But she knew that wasn't true. She would still be Abhorsen. She would just be running away. Mogget stepped up next to her, out of nowhere.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked. Chlorr responded with silence. She knew he was right. He was always right.
She shook herself and started to concentrate. She could feel the presence of a necromancer. A thin metallic scent crept into her nostrils. Free magic. She turned her head to the right, searching the vast grey horizon for a silhouette. Nothing. Maybe he was deeper into Death, she mused. The idea of leaving the comfort of life farther behind her wasn't appealing. Mogget butted his head against the back of her legs, encouraging her. She took a reluctant step forward. Then another. Something moved to her left. She took a spell casting stance and turned toward it. A rat-shaped spirit leaped out of the water, heading for her face with the speed and precision only a dead being could possess.
She stepped cautiously out of the way, and it flew over her shoulder. The marks for burning and binding floated off her fingers, attacking the spirit. It froze, Charter-flame rippling across its stark black skin. Its pit eyes stared at her, flames unlike those she had sent onto him burning deep inside. She ran a pale hand over her bandolier, choosing carefully. After a flustered moment of indecision, she pulled out Saraneth. A trusty bell, a favorite of most Abhorsen's for its security.
She rang it in an arch, a slight shake causing another ring. She flinched at the added sound, cursing her naïveté. Mogget seemed as if he expected the mistake. Ignoring his smug demeanor, she stared at the dead creature before her. It wasn't too strong. Probably from just beyond the First Gate.
"Who commands you," she said sounding rather meek. The faint roar of the First Gate hummed in the background.
It gave no response. She tried asking again, but still it didn't say anything. She mentally turned the page of the Book of the Dead, analyzing her options. She stood with her eyes closed—a dire mistake she would find—and found two options: ring Dyrim and give it speaking capabilities, or simply send it on to the Ninth Precinct. She kept her eyes closed, trying to decide.
Suddenly, a sword point touched her back. She tensed, and tried to twist her head back to see who, or what, was behind her. No such luck. Whoever was holding her at sword-point wouldn't be visible unless she turned around. She heard Mogget hiss, and attack her opponent, but he was stilled by the sound of a bell. It was high and crisp—Ranna. Mogget stepped back woozily, and then disappeared completely. She'd wonder where he went later; she had her own problems. Chlorr shook with fright, as the sword was pushed harder against her. But it didn't penetrate her armor. She could always turn to face her opponent, but she had to sword. Or anything to counter-attack, for that matter. She could try to use her bells, but they were probably nothing compared to what this person could do with theirs. Better to just take things as they come.
Chlorr took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and think. There must be something she could do. There was the sound of someone fiddling with leather straps, and then another bell. It was Kibeth. It sounded much stronger and powerful than when she had rung it. She tried not to move, and then realized that the light jig that Kibeth sent wasn't meant for her. The dead spirit happily started moving once more, against her binding, and disappeared into life. This necromancer was much stronger than her.
"Turn around," said a fiery and metallic voice, infused deeply with Free magic. The smell seeped into her throat, making her gag.