A/N: Here we are: the second half of the story. It is not a humorous chapter featuring Mogget (I'm sorry; I love Mogget too!), but he does turn up at the end of this one.
Disclaimer: See first chapter. Short version: nothing's mine!
Weeping Well – Part II
Kalliel checked his sword and bells before opening the well. A strong scent of rosemary washed over him, and a tiny hint of something else... something sweet.
Swinging the iron bucket of torches under his arm, he descended the bronze ladder one-handed. The door slid shut. Kalliel was not worried; it would open on his command, and his alone. He summoned a Charter light and continued his descent.
At last his feet touched solid rock. Kalliel placed the bucket on the ground, pulled out one of the torches, and called up a Charter mark for fire. He drew his sword, the sharp hiss of unsheathing metal scraping through the utter silence, and stared down the passageway of worked stone. Peering up at his Charter light, he waited to see if it would extinguish; it did not, and he took a confident step forward. This was what he revelled in: exploring the mysterious. He had experienced the same thrill during his first forage into Death at the age of eight – that had been nearly sixty years ago. As he walked, Kalliel realized that he was whistling a cheerful tune.
The whistling faded when he came to a peculiar tunnel of greenish-white stone. Every surface was covered in strange swirling patterns unlike anything he had ever seen before. Kalliel's light-heartedness gave way to a sense of apprehension, for the unfamiliarity of the tunnel, although initially fascinating, was starting to unsettle him. He proceeded along the passageway slowly at first, then faster, until he was jogging as quickly as he could without tripping over the undulating surface.
The old man finally came to a glowing cavern and he skidded to a stop to contemplate the three tunnels. Where to go?
The Abhorsen jumped at a new sound, and realized with shock that it was a person weeping. It was the woman down the well!
Something impelled him to go back, but Kalliel pushed those cowardly feelings away. The old man held sword and torch aloft, and marched purposefully into the tunnel. He knew that here would be the answers to all of his questions.
Kalliel followed the dark, twisting passageway, and very soon became conscious of the fact that the temperature had dropped. His breath was coming in faint clouds, and he shivered involuntarily. Kalliel felt startled when something tugged at his ankles, and recognized the all-too-familiar pull of the river of Death. But that could not be right…
Out of the corner of his eyes he glimpsed churning water, yet he knew that he was definitely in Life. Apprehension mounting rapidly, Kalliel stopped in his tracks, for once unsure of what to do. He flinched in alarm when his bells started to shake, and a gust of rosemary tickled his nostrils, with that strange sweet smell underlying it.
Then his Charter light went out.
Kalliel's sword quivered suddenly in his hand and he sheathed it, nicking his finger in his haste. Holding up the flickering torch, he fumbled with his bandolier and managed to wrestle Saraneth out of its pouch. The bell was vibrating so hard that he was not able to ring it, and instead he gripped it ineffectually by the clapper. In sudden a fit of uncharacteristic desperation, Kalliel reached into the Charter and was appalled when all that he could feel was Death.
The Abhorsen's panic reached a whole new level when he discerned a strange white light in the distance, and smelled the reek of Free Magic. The light gradually became the outline of a woman, exceedingly tall, with a river flowing around her. A river that Kalliel had wandered many times. The river of Death.
The torch dropped from Kalliel's numb fingers, and he turned and ran.
He stumbled down the passageway clutching Saraneth to his chest like a lifeline. Staggering at last into the luminous chamber, the Abhorsen crashed blindly into a wall and lost his footing. His forehead cracked against the ground, and Kalliel's vision exploded into bursts of light.
Crumpled against the hard stone, he gazed up in silent horror as the woman ducked to float through the tunnel entrance. Kalliel brandished Saraneth like a talisman, terribly aware of the pitiful defence that it made.
The woman looked down on him with an almost loving expression. Then she opened her mouth, and began to sing.
The river surged around Kalliel and took him up in its current, the walls of the cave fading from sight. He had walked the river of Death all his life, and had come back to Life every time. Yet as the cold water swept him off towards the First Gate, he knew that this would be one journey from which he would never return.
The twelfth Abhorsen lay back in the water and closed his eyes, allowing the current to carry him on his final adventure, beyond the Ninth Gate.
One month later…
Gilmael leaned forward, hesitated, and breathed upon the bronze chains.
Charter marks sparkled into life, and the links jangled merrily as they unravelled, falling in cluttered heaps onto the grass. The dark-haired youth pulled the door open, coughing at the dust that emerged from the stale interior of the shed.
"Had a change of heart, Abhorsen?" a voice said testily, completely startling the young man.
A white cat trotted out into the sunlight, blinking its bright green eyes owlishly, and Gilmael's mouth dropped open. The cat froze when it caught sight of the young man, and its fur bristled. For a long moment they simply stared at one another, each clearly not having expected the other at all.
"Is Kalliel dead?" the cat mewed finally, lashing his white tail.
The youth gave a short nod. "My grandfather disappeared a month ago," he admitted awkwardly. Pale hands lingered on the sword at his hip, and the bells strapped across his chest. "He sent me these, from Death." The young man's dark eyebrows suddenly drew together in suspicion. "Wait… who and what are you? And why were you locked in the shed?"
"I am many things," the cat answered enigmatically. He licked imperturbably at his fur, voice coming out muffled: "I am mainly a servant to the Abhorsen, called Mogget by some. As for why I was locked up… well, your grandfather did not trust me."
"That sounds like him," the young man sighed, running a hand absent-mindedly through his hair.
The white cat tilted his head. "I have been imprisoned for a very long time," he purred, eyes gleaming. "Over forty years, in fact…"
Gilmael could detect the slight beseeching tone in the cat's voice. This little fellow was devious. "What do you want?" asked the youth, cutting to the chase.
Mogget frowned at being so easily read. "Fish," he mumbled sourly, wrinkling his delicate nose.
The young man let out a very surprised laugh, which faded at the affronted look on the cat's face. "Fair enough," he agreed, fighting to keep his expression sober. "Come into the House, and we will dine. You may have your fish."
"Fish… and a songbird?" Mogget pressed, licking his lips with a bright pink tongue.
"Don't push your luck."
As they made their way through the oak grove, Mogget paused to glance in the direction of the rose garden. A hint of uncertainty sparked in his eyes. Then he gave a little shake of his head, Saraneth tinkling lightly on his collar, and trotted after the new Abhorsen.
Speculation could come later. For now, Mogget was content to think only of how delicious a fish would taste after forty years of incarceration.
End.
A/N: So, what did you think?
I have received questions concerning Kalliel's contempt for superstition. People point out that Kalliel, as an Abhorsen, isn't likely to be a non-superstitious man. Here's my reasoning: We know that Kalliel dug knowingly into forbidden ground, and we can assume that warnings of that danger were passed down through the family, at least with the earlier Abhorsens (Kalliel being the 12th). In order for him to flout the warnings of his ancestors, I made Kalliel non-superstitious; you must realize that there is a difference between our definition of "superstitious" and the Old Kingdom's. In the Old Kingdom, Charter Magic, Free Magic, Dead Hands, Free Magic creatures, necromancers… all of these are a part of everyday life. Belief in Charter Magic and the Dead in the Old Kingdom is definitely NOT superstition – it's common sense. I imagine that superstition in the Old Kingdom would be belief in old wives' tales, urban legends, bad or good luck, charms and talismans, and other such folklore. If you read the story carefully, Kalliel claims that he does not believe in the old stories about horrors buried deep below the ground. In that way, he is not superstitious. Hope that clears everything up!