A/N: Cue music, dim lights… and enter our Creepy Villain!

Disclaimer: None of this is mine; the Old Kingdom belongs to Garth Nix. But I got to name the villain, at least.

Chapter 2: Crows

Caim placed the exhausted message-hawk on a branch. The necromancer's mind was in tumult over what he had heard. His pitiful spy among the Clayr had told him something useful at last! So, Abhorsen's unborn child could one day look upon his master's face? That would not do.

Caim made sure that he was alone in the woods, before entering Death. The familiar tug around his legs was icier than any stream in Life, but he paid the cold no heed. Caim had evaded Death for two centuries, and the current was especially strong, seeking to pull him under. He stood still in the water, and closed his eyes to augment his concentration.

All across the First Precinct, spirits he had been gathering for years rose from where he had bound them. These were spirits of a certain kind, and Caim had kept them for such a purpose. Sloshing forward in the freezing water, the necromancer drew his sword and Saraneth. The Abhorsen's House was too well-defended to attack it with an army of Dead Hands. No, he had something else in mind for this.

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Kneeling in the dirt of the kitchen garden, Sabrine energetically weeded the rows of vegetables. Two sendings worked alongside her, looking strange in their black cowled robes. The woman paused in her work to wipe the sweat from her forehead. If Terciel had his way, she would be spending her days in bed, fussed over by husband and sendings. A woman could go mad in such a situation!

Sabrine tilted back her head, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. She always teased Terciel about his inability to tan, no matter how many times he burned.

A shadow passed over her face, and she opened her eyes. Sabrine could see several dark specks in the sky, and frowned as they grew larger, wondering what they were. As they drew closer, she realized that the vast dark shapes were alive. She had never seen something so strange, and as Abhorsen's wife, she had seen a lot.

The shapes circled ever lower, and Sabrine realized that each black speck was a flock – an entire flock! – of Gore Crows. She tried to steady her breathing. Surely the House's defenses would drive them off…

But the Crows were coming ever closer. Charter marks around the wall of the House flashed into life, and armed sendings sprang out of the stones. They strung gleaming arrows to silver bows, and trained them upon the diving Gore Crows. Weapons, like archers, were made entirely of Charter-marks.

Sabrine pushed herself to her feet, trowel dropping from her hand as she swiftly sketched a Charter mark. Her spell shot up from her hands, joining the arrows of the sendings. Black feathered bodies tumbled to the ground, and if there had been only a flock or two, they would have easily been driven off. But there were thousands of birds in the air, plummeting from the sky.

In an instant, the air was full of flapping, screeching birds. Sabrine could see nothing but feathers and white gleaming bone, and she threw up her arms to shield her head from scratching feet and pecking beaks. The two black-cowled sendings threw themselves before her, shielding her with their bodies. In under a minute they were ripped apart.

"Sabrine!" The young woman turned towards the voice, unable to answer because she was shrieking Charter spells nonstop. Crows were blasted out of the air, but still she was viciously scratched by sharp talons.

There was a shout, and a wave of power knocked the breath from her body. Dead birds flopped to the ground in showers, giving her a brief respite. Sabrine felt Terciel grab her hand, and they ran together to the kitchen garden door, Gore crows on their heels. As soon as they were inside, Abhorsen slammed it shut, leaning heavily against the stout wood as they both gasped for breath.

He approached Sabrine, concern shining in his eyes. "I'm all right," the woman assured her husband before he could speak. "Just a little scratched."

Abhorsen let out a harsh, relieved laugh, and they embraced tightly. Sabrine felt Terciel's hand on her womb, and murmured, "She's fine too. Luckily."

Her husband nodded. "Lucky. That's what I thought." He led a confused Sabrine from the kitchen into the parlor, and she sat in a chair before the fire to watch her husband pace. "Isn't is strange," he said finally, "That only a week after finding out that our daughter could be a danger to Kerrigor, our House is attacked?"

"You have many enemies," Sabrine pointed out cheekily, and her husband grinned.

"I suppose I do," he admitted before sobering. "But if this attack was aimed at you, as I believe it was, then we can expect more of the same. And I can't figure out how the Gore Crows made it past the House's protective magic."

Sabrine sat back in her chair. "No more gardening, then?"

Terciel smiled ruefully. "No more gardening."

A/N: Well, I for one am glad they survived that attack. Is their luck to hold out? You'll find out later.