A/N There might be better ways to start a chapter, but this one starts with you realizing we've just fast-forwarded ourselves four years into the future.

Millane rode onwards, for to have any idea where she needed to be in Death, she would have to be physically close to those she wished to intercept. Nearly half a decade, and The Red Hand had done nothing. Was she the only one in that group that actually had the initiative to accomplish anything useful? No matter, everything would be done tomorrow. After this, the rest of them would have to something. It was just too good a chance to lose the temporary grip they would gain on the kingdom. If her plan worked, that is. The whole operation had been so hasty, so imperfect...Still, she could hope.

†††

Creeping up those stairs, conflicting images shot through his head. Why am I here? A searing flash of white cut through his vision. "You must reach the bedchamber. Now GO!" Remnants of the voice's last word echoed through his head till it was all he knew.

A few moments later, he was again wondering just what he was doing. Why is my hand on this doorknob? I have no good reason to go in there.

Flash

"Enter, slit his throat, then meet me in Death. You know where I'll be. Now get moving before I figure out just how useless you are!

His hands moved too quickly for his brain to react. The murderer entered the room and drew a dagger from his belt. The Free Magic marks infused in the steel burned with a red light that clearly showed the vein he would cut. The blade traced a quick, thin line across it, and Touchstone's lifeblood spilled over the crisp sheets. His eyes flew open, desperately trying to find the assassin. But the killer was already gone.

Sabriel woke with a start. Someone she knew was dying. Her death sense always felt different when it was someone she knew. They were physically close as well... Touchstone!

The first of his blood hit her hand as she reached for his face. His jugular vein had been sliced. Touchstone would be gone from this world in less than a minute, but she could still walk through Death's chill river by his side. She slipped into Death, quickly locating him using the strong bond they had shared in life. She pulled his spirit to its feet, and much as she would have liked to turn the other way, they walked together to the brink of the ninth gate.

†††

The assassin bolted down the stairs, dagger still clenched in his hand. Whatever happened, he could not be found out. He would go down to one of the many unused dungeons, enter Death, and there meet his mistress.

The river churned around his legs, attempting to take him under, but its convulsions had become familiar to him. How something so feeble had ever overpowered him, he did not know. Now, the water seemed almost warm, as though it was encouraging him to walk farther into its reaches. Which he did, for they were to meet at the brink of the seventh gate. He strode though the water quickly and confidently, for he had traversed all but the final precinct countless times before. No Dead dared bar his way, for they had seen long ago that his will was stronger than iron shackles. At last, he reached his destination. He bowed before her, acknowledging her power.

"Rise," intoned Millane. "I have a gift for you. But first, my dagger." It was given to her, almost reluctantly, for the wielder had relished the power it gave him. "Now take these, and use them as I have instructed you." She handed a bandolier, laden with the bells of her trade, to him.

He hesitated, about to place the leather strap around his shoulder. Was this the path he was to walk?

"What are you waiting for? Much longer and we will miss our chance!" hissed Millane in his ear. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to make those bells you are declining to wield!?"

He swung the strap over his head and settled it on a shoulder. This may not be his path, but it was the one he was forced to walk.

"Better, now get through that gate and do what I brought you here for."

He turned, the Free Magic spell to raise an arch in the endless line of fire caressing his lips as it passed. Charter magi were so weak. A mere word of Free Magic could scorch their throats, blister their lips. He embraced it ass second nature. Passing through the gate, he heard one last warning from Millane.

"Remember, should you fail, I shall be waiting here to behead her...and then you."

†††

"I wish I could tell you who did this, but I don't know," said Touchstone, more calmly than would any other upon the moment of his death. "Likely a necromancer, for the cut tingles with Free Magic."

"Then someday I'll find him and force him to walk tis same path, but for now the final gate calls for you."

Touchstone nodded and raised his head to look to the stars. After nearly a quarter millennia in this world, he would have his rest. The silver dusted sky called to him, and he answered.

Sabriel watched till he disappeared past the gate, then turned homeward. She passed the eighth gate gloomily, eyes turned downward. She wouldn't have noticed if a Greater Dead had attacked, but there were none in sight. Briefly, she cast out her death sense to detect any within the precinct, but there were none. Touchstone's death must have thrown it off.

She waded on toward the seventh gate. Sabriel was tempted to lie down and allow the waters to take her away, away to where she could see him again. But Lirael, though powerful, was not yet quite ready to fully take over the duties of Abhorsen, and there was also young Katrel. He'd become somewhat distant from the family over the years, but was always willing to learn about Death, bells, and the path of an Abhorsen.

Just before she reached it, a slim figure crossed through the line of fire. Sabriel stopped and snapped her head up, ready for the threat. One hand already curling around Saraneth's smooth handle, she peered into the gloom, trying to make out the intruder.

But the figure already knew where Sabriel was. Striding forward, he drew Kibeth and Saraneth from the bandolier across his chest. A necromancer! More dangerous by far than any Dead thing, but Sabriel had battled many before and was sure this one would be no cause for panic. Besides, she considered it luck to be able to send someone who very well may have killed her husband to an early end.

He spoke words she'd never heard, but that knocked the breath out of her with the heat of Free Magic. A hand formed in the air, shimmering and emanating the reek of its origin. It drew a third bell, Dyrim, and rang it even as the necromancer did the first two.

Sabriel met the necromancer's will with full force. she floundered, nearly fell under his control, then resurfaced. This one was strong, possibly more so than Chlorr. She drew a heavy breath and cleared her eyes to find him standing right next to her.

"I never did like you much," he sneered, and forced the rest of his will at her.

Sabriel had time for only three words before she was overcome. "Katrel! How? Why?" She stiffened, bound to his will.

"Follow."

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A/N I'm sorry, really sorry! But they did have to die sometime! They were positively ancient for that time period. Besides, we had an Abhorsen-in-waiting-in-waiting! How long could that last? Just remember, Sabriel isn't completely dead yet, just.…. bound against her will.

And just a little piece of information: I don't share Katrel's view of Sabriel. If I did, I would have killed her too. Not to say that I hate Touchstone, of course...