I feel like I owe everyone an apology for taking so long to update the fic. (hands out plum flavored onigiri to Kaaratan-san Nota-chan) Thank you so much, everyone who actually stuck w/ me!

The sparring match in this chapter was made possible by the patience and helpful advice of Sakura Shinguji-Albatou—go check out her fantastic work! Also used for reference were the engaging and highly informative Redwall books, Outcast of Redwall and The Long Patrol by Brian Jacques. (specifically, the fencing match between the corsair Zigu and Captain Sabertache in Outcast and the brief session Deodar had with Lady Cregga Rose Eyes in Long Patrol).

— — —

DISCLAIMER: "Abhorsen", all names, places, and related indicia are the sole property of Garth Nix, whose work I hold in great admiration. The Ulseils, Venyeiyas, and Orkaire belong to me.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: A Need to Take Action

Kagael's room had a panel of windows because it was along the outer precinct of the Citadel. The sun's rising rays were dazzling at this altitude as it streamed through the glass. Kagael woke feeling a great deal more awake than she'd been the day before.

It was very early, much too early for breakfast. The cooks would obviously be at work in the galley, preparing, but Kagael wasn't all that hungry yet. She dressed in her spare outfit and took to wandering the halls.

Kagael only knew the ways to the refectory and restrooms, but she supposed that if she got lost someone was bound to come and find her. After all, she was the host of Orannis now. So she walked somewhat aimlessly. In her mind, Kagael tried hard to recall the route to the chamber she'd been taken to the day before yesterday. However, she'd been carried by the command of Kibeth that night, and travelling so fast that she couldn't remember what rooms she'd passed or where she'd turned.

Kagael managed to get herself completely lost in five minutes. At first the fact didn't really bother her, until she realized that she might not be found in time for breakfast.

But then Kagael heard voices from around the corner, and she headed that way.

The door to the room was open so Kagael walked close and looked in. The room was an indoor salle, and a pretty sizeable one, too; it could probably be used to train a fighting unit of 20 or so with plenty of room to maneuver. At the moment, there were only two people in there. One was the brown-haired young man from onboard the Lechuza Cruzada; Kagael thought his name sounded something like 'kind'. The other was Captain Sidhegureth.

Sidhegureth's back was to the door as he talked with his sergeant. He was dressed in a simple, white long-sleeved tunic, and his long flaxen hair was caught in a ponytail, which flowed down his back. His posture spoke of casualness, leaning against the wall as he spoke. "…if Milo reaches Gjoa Haven at midnight by the end of this week, Kynned, he'll be right on time," Sidhegureth was saying. And then he turned around as if he'd known that Kagael was there all along.

"Good morning, young lady," he said.

She swallowed, aware that her face was going warm. "Um… Good morning, Captain Sidhegureth," she managed, smoothly enough. "I don't mean to bother you," she continued in a hurry, "But I'm just a bit lost. If you could give me directions…" she faltered as he smiled. It must run in the royal family, Kagael thought feverishly. They've all got such fabulous smiles…dammit!

"Are you in any hurry?" Sidhegureth asked.

"Well, no."

"Then you may stay with us, if you like. Sergeant Kynned and I will be going to the refectory for breakfast in a bit."

Kagael didn't know how to answer for a moment, then she asked, "What were you doing here? I-I really don't want to be of any trouble."

"Sword work," Kynned replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He hefted the wooden practice sword in his hand and slid it into place on the rack on the wall. He grinned. "Well, it's work for me, if you know what I mean, miss. For Captain Sidhegureth it honestly is swordplay."

Kagael blinked, not sure she knew what he meant.

Sidhegureth gave a dismissive laugh. "Stop it, Kynned. I need the practice, too."

"Practice?" Kynned echoed in tones of exaggerated disbelief. "Then what in the name of the Charter were you doing, sparring with me? If it were practice you'd been wanting, you'd have taken on someone like Gwidhe, who can actually hold up for more than two minutes against you."

Oh, Kagael thought, feeling altogether foolish. Kynned had meant that the Captain was a good swordsman.

Sidhegureth shook his head, clearly not happy with the direction the conversation was heading in. "Don't discount yourself, my friend," he said tranquilly before turning to regard Kagael. "Know any swordplay yourself?"

Kagael swallowed, realizing that the question was directed at her. "Hardly anything that counts," she said quickly. "I've never truly fought anyone before."

"But you've been taught?"

She nodded.

"By whom, may I ask?"

"Well, my mother, at first, when I was eight. Then cousin Sameth. He's been working with me these last four years."

At this, the Captain looked rather interested. "Prince Sameth of the Old Kingdom? I've heard he's rather good."

Kagael was very fond of her cousin, who was like a second father to her sometimes. "He is," she said proudly.

"I'd love to spar with him sometime," Sidhegureth said, "but for now, I guess you'll have to do."

Kagael watched him select a practice sword from the rack. He was handing it to her, hilt first, when she finally grasped his meaning. "What? Oh…! I— A-are you serious?"

Sidhegureth grinned. "Perfectly. Oh come now, Kagael, you did say Prince Sameth taught you. Unless you mean to insult your teacher, you wouldn't decline."

Hesitantly, Kagael closed her hands over the hilt and stepped towards the center of the salle. This sword was rather heavy; it had to have been weighted, probably with a core of lead. Kagael had only started to train with one just this spring, and the extra weight chipped away at her confidence. Plus, she was already nervous from the prospect of a match with Sidhegureth.

"How does the practice sword feel? Not too heavy, I hope?" the Captain asked, his voice considerate. He selected a sword for himself and moved to face her.

Kagael looked up sharply. "No," she said determinedly, sounding more confident than she felt. Correcting her grip on the hilt, she raised it to chest-height, elbows slightly bent, shifting the weight towards her right. "I'm ready," she announced. Well, I won't be getting any readier. Already her hands had grown sweaty on the hilt.

Sidhegureth had taken up the parallel position, sword centered. His head was bowed but he kept his eyes on hers. He smiled.

Kagael drew in a sharp breath and twisted aside just in time, sweeping her wooden blade up to parry and neatly catching his first blow.

Sidhegureth drew back now, to all appearances making for a downward strike. Kagael saw through the ploy and blocked the slash as it came flat from his shoulder. The success buoyed her confidence. And her footing had been correct.

She sought an opening now, ready for a strike of her own. But the Captain left no such opening, meeting each attempted blow so punctually it was as though he could read Kagael's mind.

"Watch it, missie!" She heard Kynned shout and darted aside, Sidhegureth's sword whistling past her shoulder. The near miss made Kagael's heart pound faster. She spun away to the left and caught the next blow, close to the hilt. Their wooden blades scraped briefly before she managed to break the lock. The Captain thrust down—she parried, just barely this time. Her sword was forced aside and she sidestepped, not fast enough. The flat of his blade struck her in the side, a light, calculated blow.

"One," Kynned noted from the sidelines.

"You're doing very well," Sidhegureth told Kagael with a slight bow.

"And you're going very easy on me," she said, catching her breath.

"In your place I'd be glad Captain Gureth's a gentleman," Kynned remarked as Kagael faltered under a fresh onslaught of blows. This time Sidhegureth's practice sword thumped both her shoulders before he withdrew again with another tiny bow.

"Two, and three," Kynned announced.

With a silent promise to herself to try harder, Kagael charged the Captain, sword flickering for an opening. Like before, his blade carved up her attacks with an ease reminiscent of parting curtains. Soon, Kagael was forced to tossed aside all thoughts of attack, concentrating solely on warding off the majority of his blows. Sidhegureth's practice blade was a brown blur. Before two minutes had passed, her opponent had landed seven blows while all she caught was empty air.

Sidhegureth made as if to thrust towards her stomach, and Kagael sidestepped right into his downward slash. Yanking her sword up just barely in time, they locked hilts.

"You're fast," Sidhegureth murmured. He was still wearing that serene smile and hadn't even broken a sweat. "You should try to dodge rather than block me, Kagael. It takes less energy." He wrenched down and gave a deft twist upward. Kagael could only watch in dismay as her weapon left her hand in a rising arc and…

Quite suddenly, the wooden sword jumped in the air, whirling around and zooming towards the doorway where it clattered to the floor by a pair of red-enameled metal boots.

Kagael turned with a small gasp. Gwidhe stood at the entrance to the training salle, arms crossed and eyes blazing. The Charter marks for lifting and pulling that he had cast winked out and the young soldier kicked at the practice sword, causing it to skid across the floor, coming to a stop where Kynned stood by the rack.

"Sidhegureth," Gwidhe ground out, completely ignoring Kagael. "What the hell is the meaning of this!"

The Captain regarded his younger brother with an expression of gentle surprise. "It was merely a friendly sparring between the young lady and I."

"You thought you could kill her, didn't you?" Gwidhe snarled, and Kagael jumped. "Thought that if you extinguished the host you could get rid of Orannis, is that it?"

The words themselves, more than the forcefulness of Gwidhe's tone scared Kagael intensely.

"I don't see how you have reason to assume anything of that sort," Sidhegureth said coolly. "As you can see, we were using wooden swords. However, I will apologize for detaining miss Kagael from her breakfast."

"You slimy bastard—" Gwidhe began.

"It's all right," Mihir said hurriedly, coming up to the door beside Gwidhe. "No one was hurt. Let's go back to the refectory."

Gwidhe threw his brother a final dirty look before whirling around and striding down the hall, the clanking of his boots fading fast. Kagael realized she'd been holding her breath. She exhaled, unclenching her fists. Orannis' manifestation ceased its incessant buzzing within her.

Hedge's younger son is a difficult child, I see, the Destroyer hummed, sounding rather amused, before his presence receded again.

Mihir was still standing in the doorway, looking at Kagael with an expression of mingled guilt and concern. "Come on," he said. "Let's go."

Kagael turned around towards Sergeant Kynned and Captain Sidhegureth, not sure what to say. 'Thank you for your time', maybe, or apologize for bringing Gwidhe's wrath upon them. But Sidhegureth seemed very used to this sort of thing. He had untied his hair and was finger-combing the pale gold locks over his shoulder. Both he and Kynned gave her reassuring smiles.

"Go on," Sidhegureth told her. "And tell Prince Sameth, next you see him, that he taught you very well."

Kagael was about to ask why he thought she was going to be able to see her cousin again when she felt Mihir tug at her hand. So she merely nodded and mumbled "thanks" as she followed Mihir out of the salle.

"That whole fiasco was my fault," Mihir said quietly as soon as they turned the corner.

"What?" Kagael asked, having no idea what he meant.

Mihir sighed. "Gwidhe and I didn't see you in the refectory, so we sent someone to check on you. When Odessa—she's a soldier, friend of ours—came back and said your room was empty, Gwidhe became worried—"

"'Worried'?" Kagael echoed, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

Mihir rolled his eyes. "Alright, Gwidhe got angry. How's that? But anyway, that was when I just had to go and have a vision. I Saw you locked in combat in the training salle, and, well, I guess I panicked and misinterpreted to Gwidhe that someone was trying to kill you." He shook his head, clearly ashamed. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't blame yourself," Kagael told him.

They were silent for a long moment, and the silence seemed to stretch tighter. Then Mihir broke it, saying, "Er, Kagael, you know how you asked me to tell you about the vision I had that day in the main chamber?"

Before she could answer, he continued, rather hurriedly. "Well, in my vision, Kibeth took me back millenniums ago to the world before the Charter."

"How was it like?" Kagael asked before she could stop herself.

Mihir frowned. "It was magnificent," he said softly.

"Oh."

"Kagael," Mihir said, this time sounding uneasy. "The Walker left me with a choice after the vision and…and I…I don't know what to think… The price of Free Magic is to forget everything."

"So is that what you want?" Kagael asked, a little more sharply than she'd meant to.

Mihir was silent. But by that time they had reached the dining hall.

"Mihir," Kagael said, "You know where Kibeth is, then?"

"She's with Gwidhe," the Seer told her blandly. "The little soapstone dog."

I need to see her, Kagael thought restlessly, following Mihir to a table. I need to talk with the Dog. The spirit of Walker had known and loved Lirael, but more importantly, the Dog was a powerful entity of the Charter. Kagael was certain that if anyone had the power to help the Abhorsens escape, it would be Kibeth.

-

Roughly 24 hrs ago…

There were three men meeting in Touchstone's study. The former king sat at his desk with his back to the window, his face in shadow. His son and brother-in-law sat across from him. The younger men had been speaking.

"Vanished," Nicholas Sayre whispered dully, repeating his best friend's last words, "without a trace…"

"I'm sorry," Sameth said, his voice a little broken.

"Stop apologizing, Sam," Touchstone said sharply. "It's no use. The search parties have been futilely searching the borders for this last week. It's not your fault."

"But where…? You said it wasn't Orkaire—"

"It's clearly not—"

"Then who!" Nicholas cried. "Who would want the Abhorsens, and why did they take Kagael, too?"

A three loud raps sounded on the study door. Touchstone heaved a deep sigh and got up to answer it.

A dark-haired young man with a pageboy haircut bowed low. "Your Lordship," he said in a reedy tenor, "The merchant Kemilo seeks an audience—"

"Tell him to go away, Timothy," Sameth called over his father's shoulder at the page before Touchstone could reply. "None of us have got the time to deal with petty trading hassles right now!"

"Yes, tell him that," Touchstone said grimly, moving to shut the door.

"B-but," the page Timothy sputtered, "Kemilo says it's concerning the fate of the world!"

"What, the shipment of tea leaves from southeast Estwael?" Sameth scoffed. "Tell the man to take a running dive and boil his addled brains in the Belisaere harbor!"

"It's Lady Sabriel, Lirael Goldenhand, and Kagael… He knows where they are, or where they will be, he says—"

"Who's this man?" Touchstone demanded.

"Says his name's Kemilo, m'lord. He's a merchant—"

"And how does he know so much?"

"He says he's a friend of, er, Captain Gureth Ul-sail or somesuch—"

"Sidhegureth Ulseil, of Orkaire?" Touchstone's voice rose in volume.

"Yes, that's what he said! And Kemilo said that he needs to see you in person, won't send a message or anything—"

"Where is this Kemilo now?" Touchstone asked angrily.

"In the throne room, m'lord, having a row with Her Majesty Ellimere—"

"Bring him here, immediately." The former king looked thunderous, his voice filled with barely suppressed ire.

"Yes, m'lord!" Ducking low, the page whirled around and fairly sprinted down the hallway.

-

The door was thrown open by Prince Sameth before the page's fist even connected with the wood.

"Come in, merchant Kemilo," Touchstone commanded from his desk.

Kemilo entered, seeming completely at ease. He swept a bow to Touchstone and inclined his head respectfully towards Sameth and Nicholas.

"My Lord Torrigan," he began.

"How much do you scum want?" Touchstone asked bluntly, cutting him off.

Kemilo blinked. "How much…what?" he inquired.

"The ransom money, or whatever you've taken them for!" Sameth barked close by the merchant's head, making the man lose his poise by jumping away.

"Oh, oh no, there's a little misunderstandin' here, surely," Kemilo said, "We haven't kidnapped the Abhorsen, Goldenhand, or the girl—"

"Who burned Navis?" Nicholas demanded, blue eyes flashing murderously.

"That would be Wing Commander Gwidhe Ulseil of the Orkairen Citadel Fleet, but what I'm here to tell you is—"

"It was Orkaire, then!" Sameth crowed. "And they've taken Mother, Aunt Lirael, and Kagael, too, haven't they? This calls for war!"

"Well, yes, I mean, no," Kemilo's voice became nervous and he began speaking quite fast. "It's all a part of Sulumor's master plan to unravel the Charter, startin' in the Clayr's Glacier, which'll prob'ly be overrun by Free Magic creatures anytime this week now that I think about it…"

"Sit down," Touchstone commanded. "Tell me all of which you claim, from the beginning."

Kemilo obeyed, and wetting his lips, he began. "You see, my lordships, the elder prince of Orkaire was disowned ten years ago because of his studies in magic. Since then, he's been workin' with the sorcerer Vogsako to return the world to Free Magic so, ah, he can reign."

He went on to explain how all the sleeping entities trapped in the Glaciers had been awakened by the Prince's efforts and were now breaking out of their confinements. "But there's really nothin' you can do for that, not now, not if'n you want to stop this whole thing from happenin'. Y'see, the Abhorsens an' the girl are now bein' taken to an island known as Gjoa Haven. Along wi' some other mages, they're being used as—" he grimaced "—hosts for the essence o' the Destroyer."

Nicholas drew in a sharp breath as though he'd been stabbed.

"When the Destroyer is sacrificed at the altar they constructed at the nodal vortex o' the Charter, the weave'll be broken an' Free Magic will return.

"Anyway, what I'm proposin' we do is set out after the Orkairen Citadel with as many mages as we can get an' the royal army. Our only chance we got to save the Charter is to take Sulumor an' his sorcerers an' troops on an' defeat 'em. The element o' surprise will be our only plus, true, but Captain Gureth always says it's worth it…an' he's willin' to die." Kemilo bowed his head, taking a deep breath. "I know you've got little reason to believe me, m' lords, but I've told you all I can. Whether you choose to comply is up to you. As for me an' my men, we're leavin' tomorrow at firs' light."

Nearly an entire minute passed before anyone spoke. It was Nicholas who finally broke the silence, his voice level and resolute. "I'll be coming with you, mister Kemilo. I'm a mage, and I'll do everything I can for the Charter, my wife, and my daughter."

"We're bringing the whole army," Sameth added. "Every last soldier, scout, the navy, even the royal guard and defense force. Father, summon every mage we have at hand and hire every mercenary brigade we find."

The former king nodded his assent. "This is impossible," Touchstone growled. "But even if we should all perish in defeating this Sulumor, the Great Charters will redeem us."

Kemilo lifted his face, smiling broadly. "Really? You'll come?"

"Yes!" Nicholas exclaimed indignantly.

"Even if it's just us—a band o' pirates an' the army of the Old Kingdom?"

"Of course," Touchstone said.

"That's terrific!" the merchant beamed. "In that case, I might as well tell you, m'lords, the entire fightin' force o' the kingdom of Estwael is comin' too, though they 'aven't got mages. We're sailin' tomorrow at dawn—"

"Then we've no time to waste!" Sameth shouted. "Father, I'm going to send out all of our heralds."

"You do that," Touchstone said. "I will speak to the troops myself this afternoon.

"And Kemilo," Touchstone turned to the man, who now sat running a hand through his unruly hair. "If we come out of this victorious, I'll make you the Royal Privateer, and you'll get to keep every last bauble of your plunder."

"I'm a merchant, sir, not a pirate!" Kemilo said, looking innocent.

"Obviously," Sameth snorted. "And I'm a salmon."

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

A/N: Another veeeery talkie chapter. Gosh, I'm really sorry my characters talk so much. And I'm also sorry, fellow Gwidhe fangirls, that Gwidhe did next to nothing in this chapter. He'll have lots and lots of screentime starting next chapter, which shall be the long awaited "Gjoa Haven". Please leave some constructive criticism on your way out!