Disclaimer: All materials of the Old Kingdom, including characters, objects, places, aspects, powers, possessions, events, themes, bloodlines, concepts, and everything else, belongs to Garth Nix.

This begins after Abhorsen, after Lirael and the other seven defeat Orannis.

Please do not use any part of text without explicit permission from author or original author Garth Nix, be it ideology, plot, character, objects, places, aspects, powers, possessions, events, themes, bloodlines, concepts, etcetera.

Let me say something about myself. I'm this kind of random person perpetually trying for more attention, hoping to score and work hard and be diligent without actually working hard. E.g.

[xyz damn, im getting lazier [noo; my QA knowledge is virtually non-existent says:

Yup, that's my MSN. I'm certainly ungrammatical when it comes to informal settings!

BTW: Guest Starring: Kibeth!

Old Acquaintance

Lirael lost all sense of time. She knew only that she was still alive, and still struggling. She did not fear for herself, but she knew that being in Death too long would transform her forever, and she did not want to risk being a menace to others. Besides, she still hadn't fulfilled her unspoken promise to herself and the Dog – that was, to free the Old Kingdom from the grasp of evil, and allow everyone to walk freely whether under the sun or not. She'd barely scratched the surface.

Lirael was desperate now – time was ticking away, and her struggles had barely loosened the spell. That necromancer was not a common, petty necromancer – he was considerably more skilful, to cast such a spell, and had sacrificed his entire life into the spell, which must account for something. But she was in no mood to reassure herself – if anything, her inability to break free immediately only served to heighten her desperation.

"Dog! Help!" Lirael cried mournfully, with desperation, fear, and sadness, knowing that no one would ever hear her. She did not note that the call was a mental summons as well - summons which any necromancer or Free Magic creature skilled enough would be able to pick up.

Far out in the Glacier, Sabriel was reading an ancient text, depicting a golden age wherein the Abhorsens had hunted down nearly all the necromancers. Suddenly, she was jolted, and she thought that someone had called "help". She looked about warily, and a Librarian – Imshi – wearing a blue waistcoat, saw her and came forth.

"Abhorsen, is there anything you need?"

"Did you hear who cried?"

"Cried?" Imshi looked puzzled. "No, I did not hear anything."

"Thank you." Sabriel was not as puzzled as Imshi – Imshi's response could only mean one thing. Hesitantly, for she'd barely left that world for a break, she reached for her bandolier which lay on the ground some feet from her. Although she sorely wanted a rest from all that, she knew her duty and never shirked from it. She put on her bandolier and her sword, then drew a sword. Imshi came again, with two other librarians in tow.

"Abhorsen!" She looked fearful, and had good reason to. Here was a woman who pledged that she would not draw her sword in the Glacier, claiming that there was no need to as the protective spells were strong, but now drew it and was looking as scary as a monster.

"Relax. I'm going into Death. I felt a mental summons of enormous strength, and I can't ignore such a potential threat."

"Yes, ma'am." Imshi was visibly relieved at this pronouncement; she strode off purposefully and the other librarians scattered. They had come to trust the Abhorsen innately as they trusted the most senior and experienced Clayr.

Firstly, Sabriel called forth to her mind Charter spells for protection, for masking, for stealth, for cloaking, for furtiveness, for secrecy, for fortification, for security, for deflection, for strength, and cast them into her clothes. She wasn't wearing armor, but she had no time to fetch it – instead, she hoped that by reinforcing her clothes it would serve as well. Then, she cast marks for accuracy, for strength, for precision, and directed them into the Abhorsen's sword. It blazed a golden-yellow as the marks swam into the sword.

Finally, she drew forth the marks necessary for a diamond of protection. It was much easier to cast it than at Barhedrin Hill or under the Royal Palace when there was the presence of corruption, and the Glacier seemed willing to offer her a helping hand. It was like that sometimes in Abhorsen's house as well. The Eastmark flowed easily from her sword, then the Southmark. As the Westmark touched the carpeted floor, Imshi came rushing towards Sabriel.

"Ma'am Abhorsen, here is your armored petticoat and breeches. And the full set."

"Thanks!" exclaimed Sabriel. Although Sabriel had been a Queen for decades, she still had a playful and roguish personality, and she sensed that this wasn't the place to mince words into fine royal or bureaucratic terms. In that aspect, she was far from Ellimere, her daughter, who was every inch a fine Queen – albeit a bureaucratic, and in Sabriel and Sameth's opinion, a boring one.

She took the petticoat and wore it over her plain clothes, then did the same for her trousers. Now that she was ready, she sealed the diamond with the Northmark. Then, she abruptly stiffened, as if a chill wind had caught her head on, and icicles formed.

Imshi stared in amazement and shook her head. "And I can barely warm my toes out on the glacier!"

Sabriel was already in the First Precinct. Though she had only used the bell once before, and the bell was anathema to Abhorsens, she drew Mosrael anyway. There were no dead bodies nearby for them to animate – all it would do would be to rush them into the First Precinct, where she could easily banish them later. Right now, the call was urgent.

Although she had not much practical experience, the relevant pages in the Book of the Dead shone in her mind, as if she had just read it. Without further ado, a see-saw like gyrating voice sounded.

Lirael was, frankly, on the edge of hysteria. Her memories of Dog and worry for the King, and especially what Balthos had said, was starting to overpower honed senses, calm logic and cool intellect. "You will know how I felt when I heard about Valkos, but by then it will be too late." Valkos was the necromancer she had slain at Nestowe, after Callibe, she was sure. Did that meant that her brother would be slain? Surely he meant her sister – she didn't have a brother. But that couldn't be right – "How long you will remain chained here will depend on how long it takes the Abhorsen to come and free you, like how she freed her father so many long years ago. But I will not see that." They expected Sabriel to free her, so why would they incapacitate her to get Sabriel alone? Unless – was she bait!? No! She would not play pawn in a conspiracy and see her sister slain because of her!

Her desperation grew another notch as she realized she did have a brother – by marriage. The King! Were they planning something with the King? What if Sabriel came to rescue her at the cost of her husband the King? What if the King was slain because of Lirael? Oh, no! Her paranoia overcame her entirely then, and her intellectual, logical self felt as if it had taken a back seat. It now watched the interplay as a blinding white light shone and melted her bonds and blew off nearby Greater Dead…

She was free! "How – how did I do that?" Lirael croaked to herself, to voice out her doubt, and also to hear her voice. It nearly didn't work, and certainly didn't sound like her usual self. She sighed, and drew Dyrim, and a melodious peal brought back her voice.

Sabriel would have carried on, but she heard Dyrim's voice. A necromancer! She stalked along the border of the Seventh Gate, where she felt a strange presence – familiar, yet tinged with an unknown power, which was amazingly strong. A familiar reek came to her – Free Magic! Yet this particular branch of Free Magic seemed familiar to her, somehow. She followed the path, then saw her half-sister. They both spoke at once, as Lirael noticed Sabriel.

"Lirael! What are you doing here!"

"Sabriel? What are you doing here?"

They eyed each other warily, each looking for a hint of necromancy, a hint of trickery, a hint of Free Magic. Both surreptitiously reached for bells – Lirael for Kibeth, Sabriel for Saraneth.

"What was that Free Magic power?"

"Free Magic?"

"It's emanating from you!"

"No! I didn't use any Free Magic!"

"Sister, I'll swear that you're some Free Magic elemental." Sabriel closed her eyes, trying to figure out some way to confirm the identity of the other, while testing the other. The other didn't make any surprise attack – it passed the test.

"I'm not!" Lirael was shocked. "I'm Sam's aunt, and Sam made me this hand. Check his handiwork and my Charter Mark!"

"That won't be necessary." A new voice joined them. Both turned, bells drawn and swords ready – Sabriel had replaced Mosrael – and looked at the newcomer.

"Mistress. I heard your call and sensed your power, and came as quickly as possible."

"Dog!" Lirael wept, and ran straight for the Dog. Kibeth jangled, and Lirael suddenly jerked in the direction of the Gate. She would have crossed, if not for the Dog, who barked and forced Lirael's leg to walk in the opposite direction.

"Dog! Why're you here?" Lirael didn't seem to care that she'd nearly died – she was elated at finding her best friend intact. Sabriel, for her part, merely remained cautious, while Lirael sheathed Thyme and stowed Kibeth to hug the Dog with both hands. The Dog licked her playfully, then seemed to regain her senses.

"Wait - we have no time! As we speak, there is a great evil preparing to attack one of the bloodlines!"

"Yes! Oh, Charter. The King!"

"The King? Touchstone? Why would they? He's in the Palace."

"No, I'm certain! They used me to lure you out, and now the King is walking into a trap!"

"What? But I didn't come here to find you – someone sent out a mental summons!" Sabriel now recalled the original reason she had trekked into Death.

"The point is moot," Dog was decisive. "You shall find the King, and protect him."

"Then what about you? Dog, I won't leave you again!"

The Dog turned a baleful, sorrowful eye in Lirael's direction. "I can never truly live again. I merely stayed on, and I must go soon. I'm here for this final struggle. Orannis is not totally gone – he can regenerate himself in a place he never was in before."

"Where?"

"Here."

Lirael understood immediately – and Sabriel saw the implications, as well. "He wants to eliminate us so that there'll be no opposition!"

"Yes. Hurry, do not tarry. There is no time."

"But why can't you come with us?" Lirael wailed softly.

"I have to watch for the entrance of Orannis. Besides, I am banished forever in Death. Orannis did that to me." The Dog whispered softly. "Now, go!" The last was a command, and the Dog barked, sealing it with her – Kibeth's – powers. Suddenly, Lirael and Sabriel found themselves running quickly towards the Sixth Gate, towards Life.

"No! Dog!" The grief-stricken cry was cut off as they crossed the Sixth Gate, Sabriel having cast the spell.

The Disreputable Dog sat on its hunches and stared sorrowfully at the Sixth Gate, then jumped up quickly, shook itself frantically – sending water droplets helter-skelter – and set off resolutely, tail wagging the river of Death into froth.

Well, Lirael certainly has it rough. I don't think the sixth instalment will come as quickly – school week is starting again. Boo!

Argh, my ThinkQuest project – Sustainable Development, Growth and Continuity in the 21st Century – didn't even merit a Honorable Mention! The champion team of that age group did the same topic.

Hmph, I think the judges neglected to see the sidebar navigations. – Sulks -