'Tis I, the fangirl-writer, Answering Questions yet again…

What the heck is Gwidhe's 'Saraneth implant' (chapter 3)? If you recall from the prologue of Lirael , Hedge was "compelled" to reach Orannis with haste. The line that sticks out to me in particular is "Still he retained enough pride and will to resist running the last half mile to the mound. It took all his strength…" (Lirael, pg. 3, HarperTrophy paperback edition). I imagined that Orkaire had created a device (in their experiments) that copied this force that the Destroyer had to the point wherein they could use Saraneth and 'make' a person do something from a great distance away. Confusing, yeah, I know.

And Now For the Pointless…DISCLAIMER: "Abhorsen", all names, places, and related indicia are the sole property of Garth Nix, whose work I hold in great admiration…. But remember, readers…GWIDHE BELONGS TO ME! HE DOES!

CHAPTER FIVE: The Silver Ship

Kagael was bone-tired when they finally stopped in the falling dark. She'd always believed that she was quite strong—she knew that she certainly had more endurance than either her father or brother. But Gwidhe forced a pace that was more exhausting than anything she'd had to keep up for more than an hour, much less half a day. Kagael barely tasted the pheasant that Mihir painstakingly prepared for dinner that night. When they settled down, she fell asleep immediately, taking no notice of the hard, uneven ground.

It was well past midnight but not quite dawn when Kagael woke. It wasn't a sudden awakening, or a sluggish one. She simply…woke. Kagael sat up, looking around the small campsite.

The fire had burned down to a handful of stammering embers. She could see the dark form that was Mihir asleep a ways to her left. A low pile of something was across the fire, where Gwidhe had settled. Kagael realized that he wasn't there. But that wasn't what had woken her.

Abruptly, the awareness struck her. Gwidhe's shield was gone; she could reach the Charter again! Kagael reached in and drew out random marks of light. How she had missed it! The marks flew from her left hand and lit the campfire anew, silently and without overdoing it. Kagael let her mind slip along the endless stream of marks for a while before finally relinquishing the Charter. She no longer felt quite as weary.

Impulsively, she stood and walked around the fire. The pile at Gwidhe's spot turned out to be his black armor coat and boots.

"I'm going for a walk," she whispered at them, grinning. And she did.

Gwidhe wrung out his white shirt and dried it with a few Charter marks of heat. He pulled it back on—still warm and a little crackly like clothes that have just come out of a dryer, you know?—without bothering with the laces.

The Dog frolicked about the spacious woodland pool, snapping at a wary fish that swam hastily past.

"I don't understand why you're afraid to be seen by that girl," Gwidhe said to his dog as she climbed up onto the bank, shaking herself vigorously but careful so as not to get any droplets onto her master.

The Dog woofed, unconcerned. "I am not. Kagael has seen me before."

"Oh?"

The hound sprawled down by where Gwidhe sat cross-legged on the ground, gently laying her dampish head on his lap. There was a long silence as the young man began to scratch and the Dog seemed to fall asleep.

"Where did you come from?" Gwidhe asked gently, trying to catch his companion off-guard.

The Dog flicked up an eyelid; her amber eye was keen and bright. "The place I resided before I came to you."

"What exactly are you, since you obviously aren't a dog?"

"I am so a dog," said the Dog, sounding miffed. "I thought you were smarter than that, lad."

Gwidhe made a small noise of frustration. They'd been over this many times before, and they'd never gotten anywhere. "What harm will come of telling me?" he asked.

"What harm will come of not telling you, Gwidhe? I think you would like me being the Dog more than whatever else I could be. Now be a good boy and quit asking questions about me."

"It's not fair, you know. I told you everything about me."

The Dog chuckled. "No one can blame an eight-year-old boy for needing someone to talk to."

Giving up, as usual, Gwidhe smiled. "Wherever you came from, I'm glad you came," he said.

"That's the spirit," the Dog said gruffly.

Suddenly she sat bolt upright, ears cocked and listening. Then she let out an echoing bark, reverberating with power. Gwidhe jumped to his feet, whirling around in the direction the Dog had barked at.

He saw nothing in the night, but that didn't mean that nothing was there. Gwidhe turned back towards the Dog, only to find the soapstone statuette lying in the grass. He grumbled as he retrieved it, wishing she wouldn't do that. Putting it into his pocket, he walked back towards camp, purposefully going in the direction of where the Dog had heard the noise.

Kagael only knew that one minute she'd been striding along, reveling in the fresh night air and the soft sounds coming from the surrounding trees. Then she'd been frozen in place, unable to move. Well, it wasn't quite what you'd call frozen. More like she had no control with which to move her limbs. Therefore, she couldn't struggle. She wondered briefly if she ought to call out for help, but decided against it.

A soft scuffing came from up ahead. Kagael's eyes hurried to focus on that spot in the trees. The moon was nearly gone, so there wasn't much light.

Gwidhe emerged, barefoot, from the trees. Kagael noticed with a touch of surprise the softly vacant look of contemplation on his face before he saw her and it was instantly replaced by a deep scowl. Kagael found that she could move again, and did so a few steps backward in the direction of the campsite.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" he demanded. He didn't raise his voice, which was probably what made his words seem more frightening.

"I was walking," Kagael replied as stoutly as she could make herself, "until just a moment ago, when you stopped me with your spell."

Gwidhe opened his mouth, then shut it. He had one hand in his pocket; this hand he pulled out now and ran it through his silvery hair. "Get back to camp," he snapped at her, "and no more wandering around at night."

"Fine," Kagael said, turning. "I wasn't running away or anything."

"Doesn't matter," Gwidhe growled, falling into step beside her. "With the rate of travel we'll be forcing for the next two days, you need all the sleep you can get. We won't be stopping for a spoiled brat who doesn't know what's good for herself." He picked up his pace.

Gwidhe was already down in his bedroll when Kagael arrived back at the campsite. She walked around the fire and slumped down on her spot, which was only just cushioned by one of Mihir's spare blankets. Peering up, she saw Gwidhe lift his left hand. The fire died down to a scattering of embers.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, not expecting much of an answer.

"Shut up and go to sleep."

For the next couple of days, they did indeed travel hard as Gwidhe had said. Mihir cooked them simple but large meals three times a day with edible plant life he'd foraged and whatever Gwidhe brought down with his bow. Kagael learned to eat fast—she'd never been a slow eater, but had never felt the need to hurry through a meal at home. She took no more walks, knowing that it wouldn't get her anywhere.

Around noon the second day, they left the cover of the Great Sickle Wood. The seaside town of Callibe could be seen to the east. They'd been planning to stop for supplies.

"I'll make a quick stop," Mihir volunteered. "You two travel ahead and I'll meet you at the north gate of Callibe."

Gwidhe nodded. Kagael watched Mihir enter the town and briefly considered sprinting after him, disappearing into a building, and thus escaping. She felt Gwidhe's eyes on her and turned. He was watching her with an amused expression. He might as well as have been saying Just you try and run.

Half an hour of silence later, and nearing the end of Callibe town, Kagael ventured to speak to her taciturn companion.

"We'll reach the beginning of the Oncet Mountain trail by nightfall at the rate we're travelling," she said, but he evidently knew that already. "We aren't planning to take the pass, right? Where are we going from there?"

For a moment it seemed as though Gwidhe wasn't going to answer her, or that he would tell her to shut up. Then he grinned and turned, slowing, to say, "No, you're right, Kagael. From the Oncet hills we're going…up."

"Up?" she repeated, confused. Up the hills? That made no sense. But Gwidhe was moving on already, and she hurried to match his very brisk pace.

Mihir brought them lunch from the food stalls in Callibe, and they ate on the move. The afternoon sun was high and bright, but thankfully a cool wind blew in from the sea. As the first signs of evening began to bleed across the sky, they reached the end of the fields and the road snaked upward towards Oncet Pass.

Pretty soon, it became apparent that they weren't stopping to eat.

"Are we—?" Kagael began to ask.

"No," Gwidhe said helpfully. "No time for that."

Kagael was not feeling at her best, and the definition of no dinner helped to drag her down even farther. We won't be stopping for a spoiled brat… Gwidhe's words from that night came back to her. She gritted her teeth. Well, damn him. She didn't care.

In the hills, everything was rocky, the hard dirt sporting little tufts of grass, never forming a continuous carpet like down in the fields. Nevertheless, Kagael found a rock that didn't look like it'd be that uncomfortable. She moved over and sat down.

Gwidhe halted immediately and bore down on her. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded quietly.

"I'm sitting down on a rock," she replied pertly.

"Get the hell up," he repeated in that same quiet voice that Kagael had come to think of as his 'furious tone'.

"No," she answered him, letting childish anger surface instead of tears, which would've been much, much worse and humiliating. "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and you said we weren't going to go through the pass."

Mihir had stopped and was watching them, looking concerned.

"We aren't going to go through the damn pass, now get the hell up like I told you to."

Kagael tensed, but remained seated.

"Kagael—" Mihir began, starting toward them.

Gwidhe grabbed her by the upper arm and hauled her up, none too gently either. "Get moving, Abhorsen's whelp, or I swear I'll break your arm," he told her.

Kagael jerked, or tried to jerk her arm out of his grip. "I can walk by myself!" she fairly shrieked. And when he didn't let go, she plunged into the Charter and drew forth a mark of striking. Sparks flew and she smelled Free Magic as Gwidhe warded the mark off effortlessly. Kagael gasped at the metallic tang.

Gwidhe let go her arm. In his left hand, a witch-flame burned steadily, giving off an intense heat yet not harming its holder. He looked down at her. "I've given you back the Charter, dammit, do you want me to enact the shield again?"

Kagael glared at him a moment, then did her best to sneer. "Took you all night last time."

"Actually, I've got the damned thing right here," Gwidhe said threateningly. A presence rose at the back of Kagael's mind. So the shield and pitfall were still intact, merely removed for the time being. "D'you want it back?"

"Don't!" she said, swallowing her panic.

Gwidhe smiled. "I didn't think so. Move it, brat." The Free Magic flame dripped off his fingertips and dissipated.

Fuming and rubbing her smarting arm, Kagael started back up the trail. She was not dealing with ordinary people, she realized, her suspicions confirmed. She ignored Mihir when he asked if she was all right, and Gwidhe's sneer. How can I get away from them? she thought frantically. I can't! What do they want with me? Dad! Danny! Why can't you find me?

Kagael swallowed hard. How in the world had she gotten herself into something like this… She should've stayed at home that day. She should've waited patiently for news of her mother and Aunt Sabriel. She should've…

They had rounded the hill and the young men had stopped. Kagael had nearly run into Mihir. He steadied her.

"What…?"

Gwidhe moved forward several steps and lifted his left hand. "I've got Kagael!" he called, his magnified voice travelling up in a whorl to pierce a thick mass of cloud above.

Kagael shivered.

Suddenly, the cloud began to dissolve, scattering left and right and every which way, sending drafts of wind pouring down the valley and swirling around the hills. What was left of the cloud descended rapidly until it was level with the tops of the hills. Its presence was freezing cold. Kagael stumbled until she felt Mihir's hand on her back. Then the freezing sensation was gone.

Kagael looked up. She saw silver and smelled Free Magic. She saw a craft that was both like and unlike the airships of Ancelstierre. She had never seen anything like it.

A hatch slid open along the side of the ship and Kagael felt lots of Charter magic from within the vessel. A sturdy young man with close cut brown hair jumped down and approached them.

"Lord Gwidhe," he acknowledged, bowing stiffly from the waist.

Gwidhe looked past the man at the ship. Kagael couldn't see his face, but she guessed that it held a look of distaste. "He sent the Cruzada for us?" He didn't say it like it was a question, more like an exclamation of indignation.

"We should hurry." Mihir came up beside Gwidhe, and, tentatively, Kagael followed.

Without another word, Gwidhe went over to the opened hatch and leaped up onto the ship. He disappeared through another door on the other end of the opening chamber. Mihir entered as well, but waited.

Kagael understood, but she didn't need his help. She climbed on, if a bit slower than her escorts. The brown-haired young man who had greeted them jumped on after her. Mihir started towards the door, but not before a gust of cold permeated the chamber. The brown-haired young man muttered a curse as they all hurried inward.

Kagael took a hurried glance backwards through the small circular window as she was bustled out of the chamber and the interior door began sliding shut with a hiss of marks. It was only a quick glance, but she knew what she saw. And what she saw was sky.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Author's Note: I had a writer's block writing this liddle chappie. But I lived, since here you are reading it. I'd like to give a big heartfelt thank you to my reviewers—I'd never have written more than that impulsive liddle prologue if I hadn't gotten reviews! Yes, I know…this whole fic is done on impulse…no outline…no planning whatsoever…just writin' down whatever pops into my head…heh…

Next: If you're wondering where all the action I promised went, it might just start around chapter six. Who knows? We'll get to see Sidhegureth again (rubs hands with glee). This shall be fun!

But you know I'm evil, right? Good. Can't letcha forget. THREE REVIEWS! MUST HAVE THREE NEW REVIEWS OR NO NEW CHAPTER! (mwahahaha…)