Renowe
(I own only the plot)
Lirael slept dreamlessly on the hard floor in the back of the rattling truck, lulled by the sounds of the canvas flapping as they jerked and rattled slowly down the road. Sanar and Ryelle sat on opposite sides of her, silently contemplating the mysteries of the world, their eyes misted with the Sight. As soon as they had finished tending to her arm, Lirael had immediately collapsed into sleep, something she hadn't had much of for months. Her body welcomed the rest and she didn't wake for a long time.
Nick was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, but he also somehow knew that what he saw was real.
He stood in the street outside his uncle's town house. The yellowing curtains were drawn, even though it was daytime, and the lawn seemed strangely reddish-brown for that time of year. Everything was quiet.
Nervous, Nicholas Sayre took a step forwards, following the strange instinct he felt to move softly, lest he break the eerie silence that had draped itself about this usually raucous part of Corvere. One more step and he was on the lawn. As he looked closely at it he realized that the grass was still green, but it was covered in blood and various other bits that Nick didn't want to think about. He took a step backwards.
Something or someone screamed and everything went blank for a moment.
He sat up too quickly and doubled over, automatically clutching his left side until the pain subsided to a pounding but bearable roar.
The white cat sitting in the corner of the truck watched Nick as if he was a tin of dog food—interesting, but not altogether agreeable. His green eyes were slits, glowing in the tapestry of dark that indicated night had fallen.
Nick descended back into sleep, his mind leading him to a small, damp tent, wherein sat a smallish black and tan dog of friendly disposition. She had wings. And there was the owl...
"Lirael," he muttered, his eyelids fluttering. His left hand twitched as if to touch his left side, but the movement subsided and the small cat's green eyes opened wide for a moment. A small, satisfied, rumbling purr fluffed itself pompously into the air, drowning out the buzz of the truck's engine as they rattled onward.
In the back of the third truck sat Sabriel and Touchstone, joined by their children, Sameth and Ellimere. All were tired, all were dirty, and all anyone wanted to do was wash and sleep, but there were more pressing matters.
Sam shifted uncomfortably as he listened to his parents discuss plans to open up the disused farmlands in the south of the Old Kingdom to the Southerling refugees.
He glanced at the tiny mark in his right (?) hand, which had been cut there not more than a day ago. It felt as though it had been years. The Southerlings had trusted him. They had asked for his promise, and he had given it. The faces of the Southerling refugees who he had spoken with not long after the fall of the Destroyer swam into view. They were intensely hopeful and grateful. He could not, would not fail them.
"Sam?"
His mother spoke, breaking the wave of thoughts he had lost himself in.
"What? Sorry," he said distractedly.
"I asked you if you knew what Lirael did back there?"
"When? When she was in Death?" he stared blankly at his mother for a moment, as if waiting for an answer. Finally Sabriel nodded. Ellimere looked surprised that he didn't know what they were talking about.
"I have no idea. She didn't tell me. Only that it was our only chance."
Sabriel and Touchstone exchanged glances.
"Sam..." Ellimere began, but Touchstone stopped her and asked, "Sam, how much of this conversation did you hear?"
"I don't know... we were talking about the Southerling refugees last I remember."
Again his parents exchanged a look.
"Sam, it's been over an hour since we were talking about them," Ellimere said. Sam started. A jolt of energy had just hit him, as though he had stuck a knife into an outlet, only not quite as painful. It was followed by a feeling of intense worry, which boiled up out of his stomach, and permeated his nerves like water through a net.
He jumped out of the back of the moving vehicle and ran along towards the rear of the caravan, leaving his family staring after him.
It took them all a few seconds to react. Ellimere, shocked, wondered what she had said. Sabriel went pale, and Touchstone turned red. Ellimere jumped out of the truck and looked around. Where had he gone? She caught a glimpse of him silhouetted in the darkness as he ran towards the rear end of the caravan. Where was he going?
Sabriel, face ashen, struggled out of the back of the truck with Touchstone close behind, his hand on one of his sword hilts. Ellimere indicated that he had gone to the back of the line of still moving trucks, and Sabriel instantly moved along the right side of the caravans, toward Lirael, as Ellimere went down the other side, towards Nick's truck. Touchstone followed his wife. As they neared the vehicle Lirael was sleeping in, Sabriel slowed. Touchstone caught her when she fainted.
Nick first ran to Nick's truck, where he found Nick sleeping peacefully under the watchful eye of Mogget, now called Wong.
"Wong," Sam whispered hurriedly, his face streaming with tears that he didn't even know he was crying, "Did something happen to Nick?"
The little white cat yawned and told Sam that there had been nothing out of the ordinary, and informed him that his name was not Wong.
Exasperated, Sam, began to inquire as to whether or not the cat would make up his mind when he heard a howling bark half-eco through his head, coming, in a indistinct way, from Lirael's direction.
"What was that?" he said, and the white cat's fur stood on end: he had heard nothing.
Sam jumped out of the truck and reached Lirael just before his mother fainted. He didn't notice.
Ellimere reached Nick's truck in time to see Sam jump out and run to the back of the truck behind them. Lirael. Then, Ellimere, too, suddenly and inexplicably collapsed to the ground, just off to the side of the road.
