FIRST OF ALL- I apologize for taking so long, but as you'll soon see—this is a Long Chapter, lots happening. So, hopefully you won't be disappointed. Don't be deceived by the 'breakfast scene' (you'll see what I mean) or the 'lunch scene', this chapter is where the story Really Kicks Off.
And now…
for the DISCLAIMER: "Abhorsen", all names, places, and related indicia are the sole property of Garth Nix, whose work I hold in great admiration. By the way, has anyone noticed that in the trilogy, everyone who meets the Dog bends down and hugs her? I just thought I'd mention it...dunno why.
Also, you'll find quite a bit of influence in here from Dianne Wynne Jones's Howl's Moving Castle and Castle in the Air. I just thought that it'd be an awfully nifty addition to my fic if Orkaire had powerful sorcerers in the military that could command moving castles! (The inspiration comes from Ms. Jones--don't sue! Besides, how much money could you get out of a 13-yr-old?)
CHAPTER THREE: Meetings and Less Fortunate Encounters
Kagael was even more noticeably blank at breakfast the following morning. Nicholas was quite taken aback when she asked him a question.
"Daddy, did you know the Disreputable Dog?"
"Well, er," Nicholas paused, "We've met, if that's what you mean."
Kagael sighed. "Not like that."
"Your mother's the only one who knew the Dog very well—"
"Mum never talks about her."
"—and there's always the cat."
"Haha, Dad." Kagael ate a mouthful of porridge.
Daniel finished his breakfast first. He got up and pushed in his chair as a sending came and cleared away his dishes. The sendings were conspicuously livelier now that the mistress of the house was absent. Having been brought up at the Clayr's glacier where the tradition was that everyone did the work, taking turns, Lirael had retired about fifty of the more senile sendings at Abhorsen's House. When Goldenhand was in, the sendings were rather subdued, but when she was gone they resumed their usual bustling state, doing every job they could lay their hands on. Nicholas and the kids were generally happy for a chance to laze.
Daniel turned to Kagael. "Say, Kagy, Dad and I are going fishing down by Yezael's today. Do you want to come?"
Kagael downed her glass of juice as she thought it over. Her mood had been a strangely edgy one ever since her mother had flown for Navis, and a fishing trip with her father and brother seemed like it might take her mind off things.
"Fresh fish sounds marvelous," mewed a voice from beneath the table. "I'm in the particular mood for some wriggly, gleaming dace."
Kagael made a face at the Mogget. "Alright," she told her brother.
And Nicholas got his second surprise of the week.
---
Gwidhe Ulseil watched with a bemused expression as the citadel lifted up and disappeared into the clouds. "Bastards," he growled after the fading shadow of the castle.
"Look at it from the bright side; at least I'm here with you," the Dog said cheerily. "Getting left behind isn't so bad that way!"
Gwidhe ignored her. Walking further into Great Sickle Wood, he tossed his sack down against a tree and dropped down beside it. The Dog trotted up after him.
"I don't suppose this is punishment for burning Na—"
"No." Gwidhe's voice was dark with suppressed anger. He pulled a bowstring out from his beltpouch. "Damn Noegduch, he didn't even give me back my rapier." He set the bowstaff upright on the ground, held it steady with a booted foot, and strung his bow in a single deliberate motion that echoed the anger in his voice.
The Dog cocked her head at her master, who was crossly rubbing beeswax onto his bowstring. "Would you mind filling me in, please? I am, to say the least, confused."
Gwidhe did. "When I reported to the General, he explained everything to me. They were fiddling with my Saraneth implant again when I burned Navis. It's a lure for the Abhorsen, Goldenhand, or whatever they call her."
The Dog's eyes darkened.
"He said he was keeping my rapier anyway, damn him. The Citadel is heading back because some big-shot is seeing Emperor Semur shortly and he needs a proper welcome. Noegduch says I'm supposed to meet someone in Qyrre a couple of days. Then he dismissed me. Obviously he's making the most of tormenting me, seeing as this is my last year."
The Dog didn't comment on this. Something caught her eye, however, and she loped off ahead, towards the riverbank.
"What is it?" Gwidhe followed the Dog.
Clear of the trees, Gwidhe could see what had caught the Dog's attention. A speck was moving quickly across the sky. Soon, its shape became visible to them.
"Messagehawk," the Dog woofed dismissively. She turned away and began heading back into the woods. Gwidhe did not leave, still watching the hawk. An unpleasant tinge appeared in the hue of his eyes. The Dog paused at the edge of the trees and looked back at her master.
The unfortunate bird fell from the sky, pierced through the breast by an arrow.
"Now, you had no call to go and shoot the poor thing," the Dog barked disapprovingly. "I know you're angry, but—"
"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" Gwidhe cut her off.
"Well, you...do, constantly."
"Good. Just so you know." Gwidhe walked a little ways up the bank to where the messagehawk had fallen. He crouched down by the dead bird and pried its talons from around a thin scroll. He stood, fingering the seal, and headed back to where he'd left his pack.
"It's from Abhorsen's House," he said to the Dog, who was once again focused on the sky. Gwidhe left studying the seal and looked where the Dog was looking. Another messagehawk came flying, this time heading in the opposite direction.
"Don't even think about it," growled the Dog.
Gwidhe leered. "I'm not, you big softie. I'm off to hunt for today's meals. Chase some rabbits or something."
Gwidhe returned with two rabbits. The Dog was gnawing on a lizard. Gwidhe slung the results of his brief hunt onto the ground and started a small, smokeless fire. Skinning one of the two rabbits with his long belt knife, he roasted it over the fire.
As his lunch cooked, Gwidhe opened the scroll. At first he scanned it with a bored expression, then he laughed. "Isn't this sweet," he chuckled. "Goldenhand has a daughter and she's writing her mother all about my dad!"
The Dog woofed nonchalantly and gulped down the last of the lizard.
"I suppose this 'Kagael' is the wench I have to nab. Ah, rabbit's done."
"I'd like some, too," the Dog said, wagging her tail excitedly.
"You ate."
"A lizard. A measly little thing like that is hardly enough to fill my stomach."
"You mean your bottomless pit." But Gwidhe carved off a generous portion from the second rabbit and tossed it to his hound. She snapped it up in her powerful jaws and proceeded to tear into it.
"Ank hoo," she said appreciatively.
---
Torrigan, once called King Touchstone, adjusted his wide tunic and belted it just so with a broad and stiff but not uncomfortable sash. The Orkairens were nothing like the Ancelstierrens, he mused, practically polar opposites, in fact. In this case, Touchstone was rather glad of it. The Orkairen Emperor's basic standard of formality was that an individual dressed in whatever one found to one's liking. Touchstone still found it necessary to adopt ceremonial Orkairen court attire, if only for courtesy.
In the time he had been here, Touchstone had been treated with apt consideration. The Orkairens had a strange attitude towards magic. Touchstone still could not sort out whether they held the idea in high respect or that they feared the thing. When addressing him, people here seemed to either avert their eyes from the mark on his forehead or find difficulty not to stare at it.
A knock and a quiet voice came from the door of his spacious chambers. "Lord Torrigan." Touchstone went to answer it.
The servant bowed low as the door opened. "His Excellency Semur will speak with you over his noontime meal. If you would please to follow me?"
"Of course."
Touchstone admired the simple but captivating artistry in the designs engraved and embossed in the various metals that made up the hallway walls. The floor underfoot was uncarpeted stone, smooth and dark as obsidian. Touchstone wondered fleetingly what sort of stone it was; he could see his reflection in the floor, yet did not find it slippery in the least.
The servant slowed as they approached a room with tall, plain doors that were shut. He knocked thrice on the door. A light voice said, "Enter." The servant turned and bowed to Touchstone. "The Emperor awaits you within, Lord Torrigan. Enjoy your meal." He held the door open.
"Thank you," Touchstone said, nodding. He stepped inside the room.
The room was spacious and quite likely the private dining room where the Emperor took his meals. There was a table of dark wood and a number of men seated around it. The Emperor himself was seated at the far end, facing the door.
Touchstone had seen Emperor Semur in person only once before. It had been several years ago when Semur was first crowned. At that time Touchstone had not passed his reign on to Ellimere yet. The Emperor had been little more than a boy then. He'd grown into a man now, certainly. He had thin, darkly serious brows that looked as though they could have been penciled. His lengthy black hair shone under the bright glow of the hanging lights, braided loosely and decorated with a scattering of gems. Semur wore an uncomplicated traditional long tunic of sable and indigo; the dark colors accentuating his honey skin. A light crown of silver and bluestone rested in his rich locks.
"Welcome, Lord Torrigan of the Old Kingdom," the Emperor intoned in a pleasant tenor. "Please, seat yourself."
"Emperor Semur." Touchstone bowed slightly, then sat down at the end of the table facing the Emperor.
Semur indicated the man sitting to his right. "Lord Torrigan, this is Prince Sulumor, my elder brother."
Sulumor was clearly several years older than Semur. His hair was a paler shade of his brother's, bordering on blue rather than gray—this was not uncommon among Orkairens. His eyes were the color of grape wine and his eyebrows of the same thin, pencilled quality as Semur's. He wore a handsome, high-collared coat of black and forest green and his skin was also a great deal paler than his brother's was. A simple circlet of unadorned silver rested on his brow. "A pleasure, Lord Torrigan," he spoke. "I have heard many admirable things of you, also that you are an accomplished mage of the Charter magic."
"I'm sure half of those things were blown up beyond proportion," Touchstone said lightly. "The pleasure is mine."
"And this," Semur continued, gesturing towards the aged, venerable-looking man seated beside his brother, "is my trusted advisor, Vogsako."
Vogsako had few black strands in his otherwise snow-white beard. He nodded deeply towards Touchstone. "An honor, Lord Torrigan. I hear you have lived for nigh on thirteen score years."
Touchstone chuckled. "I didn't quite live most of those years; I was a wooden figurehead for two hundred of them."
Vogsako's still-black brows crept up his tall forehead as Semur laughed lightly and Sulumor sketched a smile.
"This is Captain Sidhegureth Ulseil," Semur nodded towards the stunning young man seated across from Vogsako. He pronounced the name, which was distinctly archaic Orkairen, "sih-gu-reth".
The Captain's amethyst eyes shone as he smiled at Touchstone. "Delighted, my lord."
Semur pointed to the empty seat on the Captain's left. "General Noegduch will join us shortly. His castle only just arrived back at the capital this morning. He says not to wait for him, so…"
Charter sendings materialized from the walls and the hanging tapestries bearing dishes, bowls and platters. They had barely begun to eat when three light knocks on the door announced the arrival of the General.
General Noegduch was a tall, even imposing man. He had a bristling brown mustache, a stern, unsmiling sort of face, and very broad shoulders. The uniform he wore only made him seem more formidable. Standing before the doors, he went down on one knee, greeting his Emperor and apologizing for his delay. He then straightened and bowed to Touchstone with a sonorous "Lord Torrigan, this is an honor."
The Emperor, the Prince, and Touchstone all nodded their acknowledgement. Vogsako intoned a "Pleased you could join us, sir" while the comely young Captain Sidhegureth saluted his superior.
Conversation began in a trickle with the Emperor inquiring of the General how the patrols had gone and if the weather was all right along the east coast of Orkaire. Noegduch replied that all had gone well and that the fishing was starting early this season because of the pleasant weather. Then the Emperor asked Touchstone about his family, to which Touchstone replied that they were quite well, thank you.
It was Vogsako who brought the conversation around to the more grave aspects of the week. "I understand, Lord Torrigan, that you have joined us here in the capital to discuss the truly regrettable fate that had befallen your northern outpost, Navis."
"Yes," Touchstone agreed. "I was hoping that Your Excellency may know something of it that would avail my country?"
Emperor Semur's open and honest face showed true concern and sadness. "I'm sorry, but I only know what I have heard."
"And what have you heard?"
"That the settlement was razed, by fire? Yes, and that the population had fled to the surrounding woods and fields. Reports also say that none of the mage soldiers were alive."
"That is so."
"And finally that this fire's suspected cause is…magic?"
"And that also."
Emperor Semur sighed. "I do not know of more to tell you, my friend. Our countries have been allies since you ascended the throne, and you and your Sabriel have done much to help me in my earlier years in this position. I will do all I can to help with reconstruction and medical needs. I only wish I could do more."
"You realize I sought this audience with you because of the survivors' reports, Your Majesty?" Touchstone persisted, "The name of 'Orkaire' was mentioned by this man."
"Is that really so?" Emperor Semur looked genuinely surprised. "I wonder how that could have been…?"
"There is more," Touchstone continued. "I do not wish to point any fingers—" he pointedly avoided looking at the young Captain seated on his left, "—but also mentioned was the name 'Ulseil'."
"'Ulseil'," Prince Sulumor repeated. "Strange. This mention of mage-fire, Orkaire, and the name seem to have little connection. Our Captain Sidhegureth, you see, has not been dispatched all season. Nor does he have any mages under his command."
"My father was a sorcerer," Sidhegureth supplied willingly, looking angelic with the light bouncing off his long golden locks. "Of course, he died a number of years ago, and good riddance."
"Do you not think that this incident could perhaps have been the act of a soldier mage gone astray?" Touchstone suggested lightly.
"That is out of the question," General Noegduch boomed indignantly. "And what do you imply by this phrasing of 'gone astray'?"
"Please, sir," Vogsako said in a placating tone. Then to Touchstone, "Our military code is very strict, and the punishments…far less than desirable. What the General means is that no soldier, in whatever condition, would even consider such a horrendous act. Besides, did you not say this fire was magic-induced?"
"All the signs show it to be so," Touchstone replied. Then after a pause, he ventured, "Does Orkaire not have Battle Mages? Highly skilled individuals specializing in war magic?"
"We have eleven at the time," Vogsako answered, "and they are all holed up at the academy. Most of our mages are, as Orkaire does not frequent magecraft like the Old Kingdom does."
"No indeed." This was Prince Sulumor.
"The Charter magic around the palace has been here for four hundred years," Emperor Semur added, sounding stressed. "The royal family…is not encouraging of magic, other than the conveniences we have already been provided with."
"I see," Touchstone said. "Yet Free Magic is not outlawed here…?"
"It has never been," Prince Sulumor told him. "The mages at the academy are working on interlacing this magic with technology, as Charter magic is not compatible. So far, our mages have made little progress, but they seem to enjoy…tinkering away. A harmless pastime, you could say."
So the meal dragged on with Touchstone getting little answers out of the men. He wondered briefly if they were all cleverly evading him, but it did not seem likely. The Emperor was truly earnest, and the General's open indignation belied any sign of wile. The young Captain seemed no more than a court decoration, Vogsako being entirely factual and having no opinion, while the Prince plainly thought himself to be the most knowledgeable one present.
"I wish there was more I could do," Emperor Semur sighed again as the final course was being cleared away.
"Brother," Sulumor interrupted, "do not stress yourself. I propose an investigation on this matter—"
"The Abhorsens of my kingdom are doing so as we speak," Touchstone informed him.
"Good then. I wish you all success," Sulumor said with a kind smile.
Captain Sidhegureth then proposed a toast, which went around before the meal finally ended.
Touchstone left, comfortably full in the stomach, yet feeling as though there was much he did not know. Ironically, it did not seem like any more could be found out with the young Emperor and his men.
A servant guided Touchstone to a spacious palace garden for some fresh air. Vogsako was there as well, strolling. The day was a bright clear one. When a dark cloud mass glided by overhead, Touchstone looked up abruptly. This sort of thing had happened twice before since he'd arrived at Orkaire, and Touchstone was very curious as to what exactly it was.
As though reading his thoughts, the old advisor looked his way, saying, "Another castle departing."
"Castle?" Touchstone was more than a little confused. "What are those clouds?"
"Not clouds," Vogsako corrected him, "Levitation magic. It does resemble clouds, does it not? Above the spells is born a citadel. This method of…transport was developed by our mages at the academy."
"I see," Touchstone said, awed but still puzzled.
"It is rather old," Vogsako continued, "created in my grandfather's time."
Touchstone had a sudden thought. "My dear Vogsako, do you think I might be able to visit this academy?"
The advisor was silent, and for a moment Touchstone could see only his back. Then the old man turned, looking quite pleased. "Why of course, Lord Torrigan. I don't see why that should be a problem."
---
Kagael was rowing up the River Ratterlin.
Sameth had arrived before the messagehawk in a paperwing bearing the crest of the Royal Family. Kagael, her father and brother had been down at the fishing tower. When they came to the paperwing platform they had thought it was a pleasant surprise; cousin Sameth was here to visit!
The world was so full of cruel irony.
Kagael still could not believe it. Actually, she could, but she didn't want to.
"Mother's…what?"
"I'm sorry, Kagy. We had the Guard searching everywhere. She simply couldn't be found. Same for M-mo…same for Lady Sabriel."
Nicholas was talking to Sameth now, their voices became like a low buzz to Kagael's ears. Daniel put an arm around his sister's shoulders.
"I wanted to get here and tell you in person…thought it'd be better than just receiving a messagehawk from Ell. She sent one anyway…" Sameth was saying.
When the messagehawk came, Nicholas had read the letter, then passed it to Kagael. Kagael had ripped it to pieces.
"Now you're acting like a brat!" Daniel shouted at her.
Kagael let go the paddles, leaned back, and muttered a chain of marks to keep the boat going. She'd needed to work out her frustration.
Kagael ran into the house. It seemed so empty. She ran all the way up to the east roof garden. From there she could see the great fig tree and the rose garden and the well. Lirael loved the old rose garden. She'd always sit atop the old well while gardener sendings looked after the flowers.
"Where are you, Mother? Did you not get my message? Were you being careful? Where are you?"
Kagael went to her room to pack. She packed lightly, just a couple changes of clothes and about two days' food. She went back to the small docking area behind the house.
Mogget had been there, sitting on the wooden planking, cleaning his paws.
"Are you going to try and stop me?"
The cat looked up, clearly amused. "And what would be the point? You're not my responsibility."
Kagael dragged her boat over to the shallows and tied it securely under some protectively overhanging trees and walked the rest of the way to Qyrre. She did not feel like paying the man at the parking bay.
She'd been here several times before. Shopping, with her mother. Kagael walked past the stores and eateries and the stalls of an outdoor market to a familiar inn. It was called The Roost of the Ghostbird after the old folktale, but was bright and friendly as opposed to its name.
Kagael paid for one night's lodging. She would leave tomorrow, she decided. She decided against sailing to Chasel, deciding to camp out, then head for High Bridge. Lirael had friends there. Going to her room, Kagael sighed and laid back on the bed. Closing her eyes she proceeded to brood, mentally plotting out her journey to Navis.
After a while she sat up and headed down to the common room, then to the small library/reading room through the door on the left. The room looked empty. Kagael entered and sat down on a comfortably cushioned chair near the center of the library and picked up a book lying open and facedown on the small desk beside it.
The Two Towers by JRR Tolkien. what're y'all waitin' for? laugh! laugh!
A small movement from near the shelf, by the windows made Kagael look up. A tall, youngish looking man with dark russet hair emerged. He didn't look surprised to see Kagael. He nodded at her, smiling, and bid her good day. Kagael found his deep eyes framed by very long dark lashes slightly unsettling. Then he left the room. Kagael paused a moment, looking at the closed door, confused. Then she shrugged and began to read.
---
Gwidhe checked his reflection briefly in a pool of water. A pale, comely young man looked back at him with bold, garnet eyes. Gwidhe touched his Charter mark and it flared slightly. No trace of Free Magic? Good. He brushed back his bangs, which were longish while the rest of his silvery-pale hair was relatively short. He was wearing a nondescript white shirt, a light bluish tunic, and equally nondescript loose, black trousers.
"Is Narcissus done admiring himself?"
Gwidhe whirled. His Dog wasn't there anymore, instead, a familiar green figurine lay partially obscured by the grass. The speaker was a young man, the tall, dark and handsome sort with a prominent nose and impressive eyes.
"Mihir," Gwidhe said, a tad uncertain but with obvious relief. He walked over, squatting down and retrieving the Dog statuette as he went. He popped it into his trousers' wide pocket.
"Right," the young man smiled. Then the reserved smile broadened into an open grin. Mihir came over and enveloped Gwidhe in his long arms, pounding his back hard enough to make him cough. "Dammit, Gwidhe, but it sure is great to see you! What's it been, four years now?"
"Three, actually," Gwidhe coughed, stumbling back. "Hardly long enough for you to have an excuse to murder me with your joyful greetings. Burn you, Mihir—you don't know your own strength."
Mihir was still exuberant. "I haven't seen you since they made you Wing Commander. How's it like? Fun? Arduous?"
"Hardly fun," Gwidhe grunted.
"You have no idea how disgustingly pointless making swords has been," Mihir told him. "At least I'm not just an apprentice anymore, but I still get yelled at half the time. Bet it's totally the opposite for you."
"Opposite? What's the opposite of being a swordsmith?"
"No, I mean, don't they all bow and scrape to you all the time?"
"That's when you're a Battle Mage, Mihir, and everyone's scared as hell of you."
Mihir paused, then asked, "Say, you still have that rapier I made for you? Did you Charter-spell it like you said you would?"
"Yeah, I spelled it," Gwidhe said.
"You sound pissed," Mihir observed.
"I am. Noegduch confiscated it, but you probably know that, right?"
"No, actually, I didn't See."
"Speaking of which," Gwidhe said, reminding Mihir, "You came to see me, which means the time's right."
The air of exuberance left the young swordsmith, replaced by that of his earlier impression. Not quite serious as…unsettling? "Yeah. I saw her in the reading room at the Ghostbird. Kagael Abhorsen."
"You sure?"
"Why do you even need to ask, Gwidhe? Of course I'm sure. We'll capture her tonight and head north and east through the Great Sickle. She doesn't look like the sort who'd put up a fight—it should be easy."
"Fine. You stalk her. I'll do the snatching."
Mihir nodded, meeting his slightly shorter companion's eyes. "It's good to be working together again," he said seriously.
"Fantastic," Gwidhe told him, "'cos according to the Lord Prince, we'll be doing plenty more of that in the future."
---
Kagael usually wasn't observant when it came to people, but a pair of guests at the Roost of the Ghostbird certainly caught her eye at suppertime. One of them was the young man from the reading room earlier, but he wasn't who'd caught her eye, it was his companion. Also a young man about his age, he was especially striking in appearance. Dressed in simple clothing of blue, white, and black that was particularly becoming of his hair, he'd also managed to catch the eyes of a handful of other young women at the inn.
Normally, when she was in a good mood, Kagael might've gone over and said hi. But she wasn't, so she just sat, picked at her meal, and brooded. Occasionally, she glanced over at the young men's table. The dark one from the library looked to be all smiles and politeness while his pale companion's face appeared so stoical Kagael was sure he was making a tremendous effort.
Kagael finished eating and stood as a maid cleared away the dishes. Kagael thanked her and left a tip. She turned to go, chancing one last glimpse back towards the table where the two men sat.
Her eyes passed over the silvery-haired one's forehead and the Charter mark there, then their eyes met—for barely a second, but for some reason Kagael felt that she should be afraid.
Kagael walked along a small stream in the nightfall, just beyond the innyard, close to the edge of the Great Sickle Wood. She wondered how things were back at the house. Certainly they'd have noticed by now that she was gone. Had Mogget told? It was not as though he needed to—anyone could have noticed the missing boat and deduced that she'd sailed off to…to… They probably all thought she'd just gone off to vent a little anger, and so they would not come after her. In a day or two, when she did not return, they would come looking for her. But for now…
Kagael sighed. Had they had supper yet? Sameth would most likely stay for the rest of the day. How was Daniel? Most likely her little brother was still fuming at her, thinking she was being selfish. And was she?
No, Kagael thought firmly. She was going to find her mother. She was.
The moon had risen, barely a sliver of gold in the star-strewn night sky. Feeling as though she needed a little cheer, Kagael tried a trick she'd discovered by accident while practicing her spells once.
Holding the image of the thin moon in her mind, she reached into the Charter. Instead of calling forth marks, she called forth a pure ribbon of gold light. She lifted her left hand and drew in the air in front of her. A perfect replica of the moon in the sky appeared, suspended before her face. Kagael smiled, adding a few stars on whim.
"Could you tell me how that's done?"
Kagael jumped at the soft voice. Turning, she found herself looking at the fair-haired young man from the inn. He was smiling. Kagael found herself catching her breath.
"I-I'm not quite sure I could teach you. You're a Charter Mage?" Oh what a damn, damn stupid question to ask; of course he was a mage! He had the mark! "Oh, I see your mark. How silly of me."
As Kagael's attention wavered, her little creations faded and trickled back to the Charter.
"That's too bad," he said uncaringly.
The young man raised his left hand toward the evaporating Charter entities as though he might catch them in his fingers. And looking at his fingers, Kagael realized, sort of…but then it was too late.
"Oh…!"
Kagael couldn't do anything as the spell took hold of her. And by the Charter, it was strong! She struggled even as she plunged toward darkness, trying to conjure marks of unraveling and knocking away, but the marks devolved and paled like smoke, like the marks in her dream.
And…Kagael was…struggling, fighting for breath, bewildered…lost.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Author's Note: There! This chapter wasn't too boring, was it? Ok, so maybe it was…I'm a slow starter, alriiiighhht?! Plus, this is my first fic!!
Next chapter, Kagael is in the clutches of the enemy! How will she fare? Will cousin Sameth get it through his thick hair that she's missing and call up a search? Stick around and be patient with me, and perhaps you shall find out.
Once again, there shall not be a new chapter UNLESS I receive at least one new review. (Sorry, but I'm one of those writers who cannot keep going without...reviewers! )
Oh! One more thing!!! In your review, please let me know which of the following ought I to call Sidhegureth's ship— (1) the Eule Kreuzzug (2) the Lechuza Cruzada or (3) the Hibou Croisade. Thanks a lot!