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.

Argh – I spent an expeditious amount of time editing the previous 5 chapters. But I really liked the reviews: thanks!

Ranna's Awakening

The King and his regiment of troops (on horseback, for haste was imperative) stopped. There was a definite rustling in the woods.

"It's something… something" declared Sam uncertainly. "Seemingly human…"

The soldiers responded immediately: they positioned themselves between the unknown in the woods and the royal King and Prince. Touchstone impulsively readied Charter marks for destruction, fire, and binding, and bound them into a Charter spell. He was about to hurl the prepared spell when bushes rustled and parted.

"Awrite, don't hit me, I'm not them!" A ragged man was revealed, carrying few possessions.

"What are you doing here?" King Touchstone gazed grimly down at the haggard man. The spell he had woven was still cupped in his hand.

"I'm from Orchyre! I'm a merchant. But those things, they took all of my spice stock and were slaughtering people! I've had to run! The town's alight!"

"What things, man? Speak!" Touchstone commanded with a compelling tone. By this time, Touchstone had let the marks fall onto the ground as individual, harmless marks.

"Things… Free Magic creatures! They killed Mary and my hosts, and they killed the mayor Gam, they killed and killed!" The man was sobbing now.

"What is your name?"

"Quaunyex, sir. Quaunyex Buklack. Please! They're coming! Take me with you."

"Very well. Quanyex. But we'll be heading back to Orchyre. Are you sure you will want to follow us?"

"Anything, anything! Just don't leave me behind!" The worn-out man sobbed quietly. At this point, Sameth noticed that the man never left the shade, and that there was a familiar stench in the air – it was very faint, though. Very, very faint. Sameth decided against airing his suspicions at this point. However, Sameth did offer to have the straggler on his horse – it made it easier to keep an eye out on and for him.

The Master was having a fierce mental debate with the shard.

"He obviously doesn't trust me. Why can't I just finish him off now?"

"We cannot risk it. He may Awaken. Belgaer may Awaken, and that would be disastrous. Already Astarael has partially awakened, due to the spell wrought by your fool of a protégé."

"'Awaken'? Don't be an idiot – he isn't asleep."

"You're foolish and ignorant. He isn't physically asleep, but the true power within him remains dormant. It only rose once when they were binding – never mind."

"Binding you?" There was a slight smirk.

"Shut up. There were Eight of them; besides, I had spent myself unleashing the first wave of destructive energy. It was quite daring of them, though, to rely on my powers to help them defeat my own servants, Chlorr. They only started using their own power when they ringed me, and even then only when Yrael joined in did they manage to overcome my resistance."

"Yrael?"

"The tabby-cat."

"Ah. Abhorsen's servant, eh."

"Stupid cat. Never expected it to be so ungrateful – after all, I nearly slew the master who had kept him for millennia. My agents did tell me he was fed up with them. 'A millennia of servitude' was his catchphrase, and he always did grumble."

"Apparently he was not fed up with the Abhorsens as much as he was with you. I heard Abhorsen-in-Waiting Goldenhand – that sneaky bitch, like her bitch friend – used trickery. She bribed him with fish. Just before the battle, he realized what he would be without fish."

"Smart family. Trapping him in the shape of a cat, and getting him addicted to fish?"

"Smart, indeed. So smart that they took you by their wits, I assume?"

"Stop mocking me so arrogantly, or else I will not aid you."

The Master rolled his eyes. "Oh, not this trick again – we're even sparring partners when it comes to this issue. Use another tack."

"Very well – you'll notice that the Prince thinks you're deluded and raving, and I concur. You're staring at the sky, drooling, muttering incoherently to yourself. Mad you."

"What!?"

The merchant was weird, and Sameth had an inclination to get away from him. Rather repulsive habits made him seem fifty years beyond what he looked. He was drooling and muttering madly, and his eyes seemed empty, as if their master were spiritually missing.

Then, suddenly, his spirit appeared to have returned, for he hurriedly apologized and looked down. The royal Prince was suspicious, and he used his highly attuned senses to try and get a reading as his horse whinnied to a stop. Nothing suspicious…

Wait. The merchant claimed he was a 'spice merchant' and had his load captured in Orchyre. Why would Free Magic creatures 'take' all of his spice stock? That was very convenient for a masquerader. Besides, why didn't he have any smell of spice on him?

Wait. How had this man, with no Charter mark, sensed that his father was casting a spell? He had surrendered himself and even said, "Don't hit me". How had he known the nature of the spell if he wasn't a servant of the Charter? Unless…

Sameth once again tried to get some reading on the suspicious 'spice' merchant, and managed to sense something near the merchant's arm. He stared hard at the merchant's arm, and quickly drew his spelled sword – Braller – and sent Charter marks flowing into the merchant. It was a truth-spell, and Sameth immediately sent more marks – marks of immobilizing, marks of blankness, and tried to scramble the merchant's mind as he asked a few questions. The King and his troops were setting up camp, and none seemed to notice what Sameth had done.

That little brat was smart, you had to give him that. However, that was all the praise the Master could find for the twerp – his meager powers could barely even tickle the Master. The Master recognized the spell at once, and allowed his voice to become slightly slurred.

"Who are you?"

"Quaunyex Buklack… spice merchant… father of two…"

A few members of the regiment looked strangely at him, and continued watching the byplay between their Prince and the 'merchant'.

"Okay. Do you serve the Charter?"

"No…"

"Are you against the Charter?"

"No…"

Now, there were more men staring, including the King himself.

"Are you in anyway way a Free Magic or Dead creature, or a necromancer?"

"No…"

By now, nearly all the troops had been alerted and seemed to watch with morbid fascination. The Master almost sneered – he was acting too well, it seemed.

"Answer me this. Are you opposed to the King, and do you wish to see me or the King dead?"

"No…"

At this, all the troops suddenly reached for their swords, and the King and the royal Prince were pushed out of the way. The Master's mind had barely registered that this was hardly an adequate response to what he'd just said when he found swords pointing at his neck.

"Fool! A Truth-spell!"

Helmfro immediately understood. It meant that there was no point in hiding himself any longer. He was rather pleased by this turn of events – his pretense was rather annoying to keep up. It was night time, and he was in his element. With a snarl, he reaped three deaths, then proceeded to roar a Death-spell. To the credit of the Prince and the King, they responded immediately, casting marks for protection. However, the Master estimated that at least a dozen troops had fallen, leaving less than two score more. But these troops were elite and experienced – the Master found himself buffeted by various Charter spells, some of which were quite strong. A few soldiers charged him, and he snarled.

The Prince and the King were blasting away at him, and the Prince cast the most complex and consuming spells with frightening ease. A normal Dead spirit, Free Magic creature or lesser necromancer would have wilted before this assault, but not the Master. He metamorphosed, turning into a wolf, while casting more Free Magic spells, aided by the shard. He dodged the soldiers charging him, and ripped out their throats. He could hear the shard mentally sighing, though it was helping him. Evidently the shard was unhappy with the situation.

The Master sneered at the shard – it, as usual, greatly underestimated the Master and overestimated their adversaries. Tendrils of dark flame and bolts of burning lightning reduced the ranks of his opponents. There were a few who managed to get shields up in time, but he merely pushed and broke their shields. There was roughly a dozen left after that, for most had been too focused casting their spells, thinking that that would occupy his attention. Pathetic. But his strength, too, was draining quickly.

He realized, suddenly, that all of the magic assaulting him were from the troops and the King. The Prince was casting something even more complex, and the rest were providing covering fire. The Master could not have that. He loped towards Sameth, intent on ripping his throat out. In desperation, the King rushed in front of Sameth and placed himself in a battle stance, but the Master easily cleared him and crashed down on Sameth.

But he was too late, for the spell was released, and it struck the Master directly. With a howl, the Master realized that bands of gold and silver were surrounding and binding him, weakening his powers. The Master cursed, and, with the shard's help, melted away those bonds quickly, then faced his foes again. Prince Sameth, however, had taken full advantage of his momentary weakness and was now casting another spell.

"Hurry, get the Prince! We may not be able to hold off something else of that nature again. I am greatly weakened by that expeditious use of power, and I need to feed."

"Feed from my blood and hurry up!"

"No! There's no point; it'll be taking power from you."

"Oh."

"Just get the Prince!"

The black wolf leapt towards Sameth, snarling. Sameth released his spell, but it missed the Master completely, instead flying out towards the heavens. What poor aim. The Master snorted in contempt, and took down two more soldiers. Their blood would help replenish some of the power spent fighting Sameth's spell, the soldiers' earlier spells and the spells cast to destroy the soldiers. Then, he bounded for Sameth. The soldiers tried to follow, but they were all strangled by tendrils of dark magic, and died slowly, one by one.

It was left with Touchstone and Sameth. Sameth was now casting again – it would seem that the boy had no end to his spunk and daring. The Master would have to fix that. He howled, and was about to spring, when he realized that what remained of his strength was leaving him.

Sameth had released the Charter spell he had been casting, bound together by a master mark, which was now acting as a miniature Charter sun. This Charter sun was a smaller version of the sun itself, but it was effective in draining the Master's vitality. He noticed that there were no clouds to cover and reflect the light, then realized the spell that Sameth had cast earlier hadn't been merely a direct binding spell that had missed him. The shard had been correct – the Master's hubris was blinding him. His energy was sapping away quickly, and he needed to do something. The King roared and rushed at him, but he dodged it easily, and went instead for Sameth.

Sameth was very weary from having done so much casting, but still he tried to reach for his sword. As he touched his sword, the Master reached him and bit him on the neck, feeding on Sameth's rich blood.

"No! The King! Watch out, you fool!"

The Master spun about just in time to see an enraged King in berserker mode. He roared, and then shone brilliantly, and the Master thought he saw a bird-shaped creature floating above the King. It was clearly a Free Magic practitioner. He wondered if it was a servant of his, then sensed its power and realized it was far beyond him. Suddenly, he felt drowsy, and the compulsion to just fall down and sleep was strong. He tried futilely to resist, but he had no strength left. The ground was suddenly looking very inviting. Then –

"Don't sleep! Idiot! Run!"

The shard's power was all that was sustaining and resisting against that bird's power. The Master knew good advice when he saw it, and transformed immediately, speeding off towards the Southern Plateau. He finally understood why the shard had been dead-set against fighting all those soldiers and the Prince and King alone.

"You fool!"

At first, the title was "Deceptive Cloak" but I've changed it. I wanted to make it like, "First Awakening" and "Second Awakening" to maintain the suspense, but decided against it – this chapter name sounds so much nicer! Haha! (: But I have a test to revise for. May not post for awhile!

Someone told me this chapter was a major disaster, so I've made corrections. Argh! Is it okay now? I rather liked the shard's last command, though – 'you fool!' Yay!

BTW: My tests are all over, but there's Oral Examination, one PowerPoint, two essays, homework, and other stuff to do! The end's not in sight!