A/N: No excuse this time…no disorienting move—no family issues—no getting grounded from the computer—not even writer's block. I was just procrastinating, so nya. :P
Oh, and for those who've been following this fic—Yes, indeed there will be a romance, not much of a romance, and no happy ending, but rewarding nonetheless.
And a message to those who read and don't review…You're So Mean! If you're reading this fic and don't let me in on your doing so…I Won't Update! (…even tho' it's probably not fair to make everyone wait for updates…) But it's Pathetic! I have 12 chapters up and only 45 reviews! If I'm a bad writer, tell me! Flame me, even, and I'll stop writing! 'Cos it's a waste of my time, too, if I'm just writing stuff that no one's reading! I mean, my last chapter only got one review! Let me know what's wrong with me!
((pant…pant))
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 TWELVE: A Glimpse of Gwidhe
The Walker came to Kagael that night. The girl had been sleeping, but when Kibeth entered the room, Orannis flared up like a torch within Kagael's breast and she sat up with a heaving gasp. Before she knew what was happening, a great, burning force hurled out of her, hoisting the Dog up off the floor to slam her forcibly into the wall.
But the Walker was, apparently, very well prepared. Even as the Destroyer attacked, the Dog barked. Her four paws left the ground and she shot up, but she did not go flying. Instead, the bright mark that she spat out with her call caught the force of Orannis like a shield, spinning it out in a reversed vortex, dissolving like a breath of wind in the air.
The Dog paddled casually back down to stand on the floor. Her dark eyes sparkling knowingly as she gave an ebullient woof. "Getting rusty, my Brother?"
Kagael gasped weakly, a burning sensation roiling in her stomach. She gagged, and the liquid fire poured from her throat in the form of the Destroyer's voice. "You are as sickeningly insolent as the day you were formed, little sister. It is this pathetic, human—" It spat the word "—body. I cannot use my powers as I would hope to, of I would burn my host to a husk. And if I do that, the sorcerer Sulumor will feed me into the body of a young man, Elyras, from whom there will be no hope of escape."
"Oh, lackaday," the Dog lamented mockingly, trotting over and placing her paws on Kagael's lap.
Kagael pleaded with her eyes, wanting to ask the Dog for help, but Orannis did not let her speak. Oh, Kibeth…please!
The Dog cocked her head, smiling. "My, my, you do look awfully pretty when you're helpless." She gave Kagael an affectionate lick on the nose, and the girl felt a rush of comfort. "Especially your eyes…they're your father's eyes, aren't they? But, ah, you have Lirael's lips, and nose and chin, and ears…yet you still don't look that much like your mother." The Dog sounded a little disappointed, which made Kagael wilt a bit inside. Kibeth harrumphed. "As I was saying, you're adorable when you're helpless and beseeching. But then, you're seldom the latter two, or so Gwidhe tells me."
He talks to you about me? Kagael demanded in her mind, aware that her face was going red. She felt Orannis' derisive laugh in response. Kagael shuddered with the force of the scorching vibrations.
"Now, stop that!" the Dog ordered sharply. "I came to see the girl, not watch you torment her. I want to see what I can do about this little paradox we're currently mired in. You see, I haven't been still at all. I've managed to have a chat with the young Seer Mihir, and I also dropped in on your mother and aunt, Kagael. Sabriel is doing quite well, albeit going out of her mind…Oh, only very slightly," Kibeth said quickly upon receiving Kagael's startled look.
"What about Mother?" Kagael blurted out, discovering with delight that the Destroyer was letting her speak.
"She sleeps, most of the time," the Dog said. "But she is recovering. There is severe damage to her throat, and it is uncertain whether she'll regain the ability to speak again."
"But she will be all right," Kagael whispered, falling back against her pillows. She blinked and tears flowed from the corners of her eyes. "Oh, Kibeth, we'll be safe now, won't we? You're going to help us all escape?"
"Running away is far from the solution," the Dog said gravely. "Besides, how do you propose that that be done? We are—to put it simply—in a rock floating over the sea, not to mention a hundred feet in the air."
"What can we do?" Kagael asked. The spark of hope that had ignited within her upon seeing the Walker was dying rapidly. Then a thought occurred to her, and it also occurred to her that it wasn't such a terrible thought. "I simply need to die, isn't that it? If I die, it'll all be over—"
"Too right it will all be over!" the Dog barked harshly. "Did you not hear what Orannis said? When you die, Its spirit entity shall be transferred to this Elyras. And if I'm not mistaken, that young man belongs to Sulumor, body and soul."
Even death is too easy, Kagael thought, and she had to try hard to keep the tears from rushing forth once more.
"But do not despair," the Dog said gruffly.
"How can you ask that?" Kagael demanded, choking back a sob. "You just said there was no way…"
"I did not say that." The Dog gently licked away the tears that had worked their way down Kagael's cheeks. "But our way out cannot be achieved by you alone. We will need help. I believe—truly believe—that we might have Mihir on our side now. At the present we must work on Gwidhe."
Kagael almost laughed. "Convince Gwidhe to fight against Sulumor? He would never do that—he'd kill me if he found out about this…he'd…he'd kill you!" Her voice was growing faintly panicky.
"You forget," the Dog woofed dryly, "Or have you not been told?" She continued at Kagael's scowl of incomprehension. "I have been Gwidhe's close companion for nigh on ten years now," Kibeth explained. "He will bend to our cause as long as you apply a little pressure. The main problem is his Saraneth implant…Has Gwidhe told you about that?"
Kagael shook her head. She knew that Saraneth the Binder was the sixth Charter, and she knew that Saraneth was also the name of the sixth bell, but she had no idea what a Saraneth implant was.
The Dog nodded as though to say, I'd thought as much. "I will explain quickly," she said. "Gwidhe has an implant on the small of his back—a tiny metallic protuberance connected to his spinal cord. Whenever Sulumor and his sorcerers will it, this implant sends impulses to Gwidhe's consciousness. It acts much like the bell Saraneth in this manner and commands his mind just like my bark can control your limbs, effortlessly.
"It was the Saraneth implant that made Gwidhe burn Navis."
Kagael frowned. "And he can't remove it at all…What about you, haven't you tried?"
"Before now, I haven't had a need to. But I did try, yesterday night when Gwidhe slept. It seems that this implant is infused with a Free Magic form of Saraneth. When I touched it, I instantly reverted—against my will—to the form of a soapstone statuette, unable to move for several minutes." The Dog looked terribly befuddled.
"What can I do?" Kagael asked.
For a long moment, there was only the buzzing of Orannis inside her. Finally, the Dog looked up and spoke. "You can go back to sleep now, Kagael. I have told you everything of consequence thus far. From this moment, you will forge on as best you can. I can only say, be brave, and follow your heart." She paused. "You will not die," she woofed softly, "So do not fear for your life. Perhaps you will learn to fear for another's."
Kagael pulled herself back up as the Dog drew away from the bed and trotted away, towards the door. "Wait, Kibeth, what do you mean?"
The Dog looked back over her shoulder, still walking, her amber eyes soft and dark. "I'm glad to have met you and spoken to you in person, Kagael Abhorsen, Daughter of Lirael Goldenhand. You will be Remembrancer when the time comes, but do not spend your life in memories or you will waste the sacrifice that let you live."
"Sacrifice?" Kagael echoed. "When…who…?"
But somehow, the Dog had gone.
— — —
Some days passed, largely uneventful. Mihir came to see her a few times, once bringing some books from Captain Sidhegureth. The last time, he stayed a little longer, asking if she'd had a chance to speak with Kibeth, and what services did the Walker require of him, if anything. Mihir didn't have to say more; Kagael knew that he would help them to the best of his ability.
During these days, she was summoned to Gwidhe's chamber every evening to practice Free Magic. Kagael concentrated on everything her instructor showed her, despite the evident and slightly unsettling change in his attitude. Gwidhe seemed to regard her with a mix of discomfort and uncertainty now, no longer the disdain he showed before. She noticed that he moved carefully around her, as though all too aware of the Destroyer hovering inside her body, flinching away whenever he deemed that she drew too close.
Once, Kagael tried asking him about Hedge, his father. She felt almost instantly that she'd said the wrong thing, Orannis flickering eagerly inside her. Gwidhe start to grow angry very noticeably.
"Don't you know everything that matters, Kagael?" he asked her in a stony voice, bitterness running like veins through his words. "Your mother killed my father before I was born; I've never met him." His last words were deliberate, cutting.
Kagael realized that Gwidhe had thought she was goading him, asking him about Hedge when the Sorcerer had died before his son could ever see him. She wanted to say sorry, but then, asking forgiveness would be selfish like this, when she felt no grief for Hedge. The silence seemed to stretch forever until Gwidhe sent her away. Kagael half expected that to be the last of her Free Magic lessons, and couldn't help feeling the tiniest bit of regret.
But the following day, Gwidhe came knocking at her chamber door, demanding to know why she was late. And so the lessons continued.
The day after that she asked Gwidhe why he disliked his brother, Sidhegureth. To Kagael's surprise, Gwidhe did not grow angry like he had before. Instead, he completely ignored her question and went on explaining the formation of a Free Magic spell.
"Do you mind me asking?" Kagael said rather blatantly during a lull in his explanation.
Gwidhe fixed her with an unreadable stare. "Why do you care what there is between Gureth and I?" he demanded.
He calls him Gureth, Kagael noted with some surprise. "You're very different," she said, "You and Captain Sidhegureth. But you are brothers, and…"
"And I hate him with every fiber of my being?"
"Do you?"
"'Course not."
Gwidhe fell silent. After a moment he stood and began pacing the length of his room. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his trousers and the expression on his face was altogether sullen. It made him look, Kagael thought, a lot younger than twenty years, which was how old she was guessing he was.
"If it bothers you…" she began.
"Damn right it bothers me," Gwidhe said surlily. "But I suppose you want to know, besotted as you are with Gureth."
"I'm not besotted," Kagael said a little indignantly, feeling the heat rise in her face.
Gwidhe turned to regard her, an eyebrow lifted. "You told me you were, or have you forgotten? 'I think I've got a screaming crush on him'—those were your exact words."
Kagael hadn't forgotten that. "And you told me not to compare the two of you…why?"
"You're slower than I thought, Kagael," Gwidhe said quietly. "It's completely obvious…everyone knows. Gureth's perfect, that's why." He turned away, eyes downcast. "He's everything I've ever wanted to be…They say he's a lot like Mother was." Gwidhe gave a tense little laugh. "She must've been an angel, then. Pity I never knew her, either."
"I'm so sorry, Gwidhe," Kagael said, and she meant it this time. It had never occurred to her that Gwidhe was an orphan.
After a long pause, wherein Gwidhe did not move, Kagael got up from her seat and walked over to him to see what the matter was. She was surprised to find that he was grinning. Kagael wondered if she'd said something funny, or stupid.
"I was beginning to wonder," Gwidhe remarked, "if you didn't know my name, because that is the first time you've said it."
Kagael blinked, realizing that what he'd said was true. Then Gwidhe was moving away again, as though remembering that Orannis' host was standing beside him. "It's late," he said a bit abruptly. "You'd better leave."
"Oh, all right." Kagael started to go. Then, for some reason she halted briefly and said, completely on impulse, "Say hello to the Dog for me."
Gwidhe's eyes narrowed. He didn't say another word, but she felt his gaze boring into her back all the way till she shut the door behind her.
— — —
Kagael rose early the in the morning due to the persistent buzzing of the evil spirit inside her. There was little else to do but to wash up and get dressed. She moved to look out the window, trying to breathe as she dragged a comb through her hair. It was a bright, clear day, and she squinted slightly against the intensity of the sun. Her breath felt hot and metallic, burning her nostrils and making her lips painfully dry.
To Kagael's surprise, an escadrille of about twelve paperwings flying in arrowhead formation was heading for the Citadel. The crafts were of a pale, metallic grey-blue coloring. As they came closer, Kagael could make out a design emblazoned along the sides of their noses; it resembled a hieroglyphic of a baleful golden eye with ebony spokes wheeling out around it. As the wings drew abreast to the Citadel, preparing to dock, Kagael was able to see that the insignia was actually a twelve-rayed sun, the symbol of Orkaire.
She accidentally tugged too hard with the comb as the Destroyer leapt into wakefulness. "Ow!" she gasped faintly, putting a hand to her head.
He is there.
"What?" Kagael asked.
Hedge's younger son, Orannis hissed vehemently.
"What's the matter with you?"
You are not making progress, the Destroyer snarled, and because of your incompetence we shall both meet our ends in a few days' time!
"What do you mean?" Kagael demanded. "I've been trying really hard with Gwidhe, and personally, I think I've been making a lot of progress."
You imbecilic human, Orannis grated viciously, sending a sizzling tremor through Kagael's bones. She staggered against the wall, dropping the comb to the floor with a clatter. You are making no effort to end our plight! You have made nary a move to remove this Saraneth implant that plagues my young servant—
"Gwidhe," Kagael said raggedly, "is not your servant. And what do you expect me to do about the implant? Walk up to Gwidhe and say, 'Excuse me, but would you mind taking your shirt off so I can saw that metal knob out of your spine?' It can't be done!"
It will be done. I…we have very little time left. I feel the Charter's weakening…and the pungency of Free Magic. The Destroyer crackled fitfully. You will cease your dallying. Bring me eye to eye with an unguarded Gwidhe, and I will do the rest of the work.
Kagael had sunk against the floor. How she hated being so without control of her own body. "I'll do it," she said shakily. Then, "I'll do it!"
Good. With that, Orannis once again faded to a buzz.
Getting to her feet, Kagael left her room. She walked down the passage that led to the main entrance hall, arriving in the chamber just in time to glimpse a large black door sliding downward to close up the way in to the paperwing hangar. A group of soldiers were lined up not far from there. They were all clad in uniforms of black leather, tailored into elegant lines flattering to their form, with jackets and tassets whose cuffs and edges were of smoothly gleaming tawny fiber, and greaves and boots of enameled metal
The troop's commander stood in front of the two neat lines, his back to Kagael as he addressed his men. Kagael had to admit that the uniform was very becoming, though the choice of color made Gwidhe's platinum-blonde hair look exceedingly metallic. After a bit, all the men saluted in one movement and the lines dispersed. Gwidhe briefly conferred with one of the soldiers—probably his second in command—before letting him go, too.
When all the men had left and only Gwidhe was standing there, Kagael walked up to him. He turned as she drew abreast and took (his now customary) few steps away.
"You're a pilot?" she spoke before she thought. What a completely demented thing to say. Of course Gwidhe was a pilot! Who wouldn't know, especially after hearing him addressed as wing commander only about half a million times. Kagael wondered if perhaps she could walk through the wall.
Gwidhe gave her the barest of nods. "You're up early."
Kagael swallowed. "I-It…the Destroyer, that is, woke me up." Was she mistaken, or did Gwidhe grimace?
"I see."
"Your unit was on patrol, right? I saw through the window. Could you tell me where we are now?" Kagael asked.
"The Citadel is currently hovering above Keion Valley," Gwidhe replied. "We arrived at the island of Gjoa Haven at four o'clock in the morning."
Gjoa Haven…Unbidden, Elyras' words about the island and the Uncharted came back to Kagael. Instinctively, she plunged for the Charter. Before she could make contact, however, a shield slid neatly into place. She looked up at Gwidhe, startled.
"I don't think you'll be needing that," he told her.
"Don't, please," she said, knowing it sounded feeble.
"And why shouldn't I?" Gwidhe asked.
Careful to keep eye contact, she responded, "It's my birthday tomorrow." And it was…she was to turn sixteen tomorrow afternoon. Kagael had to swallow the lump forming in her throat as her thoughts unexpectedly turned to her mother, Lirael.
Gwidhe smiled vaguely. "Is it really?"
The buzzing within Kagael had grown at a tremendous rate and she felt a burning at the back of her eyes that was most certainly not attributed to tears. "Yes," she answered Gwidhe, struggling to keep her voice normal.
Gwidhe frowned at her. "Is something wrong? You sound…"
The buzzing had grown to a roar that drowned out everything. It was a sound, and a sensation that made Kagael's entire body thrum with a prickling, fiery pain. Her eyes watered and her vision swam. She tore her gaze from Gwidhe, wanting to tell him, warn him away, but her throat clenched, burned, and she could not speak.
Orannis! she screamed in her mind, What are you going to do to him?
There was no response from the Destroyer.
The grayness of the chamber's steel walls peeled away like windblown curtains at the edges of Kagael's vision. She was suddenly on a high plain, somewhere with long grass bending in gentle swells like waves when the cold wind moved smoothly over them. She could hear an archaic wooden flute being played somewhere far, it's shivery notes on the wind making the chill seem bitter. But the most prominent sound she heard was the clash and clangs of a pair of wooden swords. Kagael turned slowly.
A little distance behind her, two young men were locked in combat. Both were bare to the waist, their torsos gleaming with sweat despite the cold. One of them, whipcord slender, looked to be no more than thirteen years old. His sweat-dampened hair glistened, bright as silver filigree, long bangs tossing with intermittent gusts of wind. He put Kagael in mind of a gull, thin and light, but he fought with a ferocity that turned his amaranthine eyes into bloody fire, lips curled back in a wordless snarl as he swung at his opponent.
The older boy was clearly Sidhegureth, his faultless flaxen hair wafting each time he dodged a blow. Gwidhe—the younger—was losing, slowly but surely.
In the seconds that followed, the Ulseil brothers wove a swift pattern dance over the grass, the elder forcing the younger back, back, back until finally, Sidhegureth performed a quick skirmishing movement that wrenched away Gwidhe's weapon. The wooden sword thumped to the grass.
To Kagael's surprise, Gwidhe merely stood with his head bowed, shoulders rising and falling as he regained his breath. "What did I do wrong this time, Gureth?" he asked breathlessly. "I just can't seem to keep up…"
"When you cross swords with a man you must put yourself aside," his older brother said patiently. "Bitter rage may be yours, but never blind rage."
"You only landed a single blow on me this time, brother. I am getting better." Gwidhe lifted his head. His eyes were clear now, expectant. And, watching, Kagael couldn't help but feel her heart race with a new, unbidden fondness.
Sidhegureth's heliotrope eyes were rather distant. "Yes, you are getting better."
"What are you thinking?" young Gwidhe demanded, concerned.
"I was thinking how much you're like Father, at least, what I remember of him," Sidhegureth replied. He bent over and retrieved the practice sword from the grass, holding it out hilt-first to Gwidhe.
Gwidhe took it. "Everyone thinks that…How am I like Father?"
"You have a heart of fire," Sidhegureth said, pulling a shirt on and smoothing his hair. "And you're an extraordinary mage." He began walking.
Gwidhe walked beside his older brother, a small frown on his face as he tied the laces of his shirt. "I know, I know."
"Gwidhe," Sidhegureth said, "I can't teach you anymore."
"What?" The younger Ulseil brother stopped, looking at the elder in disbelief. "What do you mean—Why?"
"They told me to tell you…" Sidhegureth said. "You're leaving this week to the mage academy. I guess…we won't be seeing each other for a couple of years."
Gwidhe swore. "They can't do this to me!" he protested. "Make me leave everyone behind…my family…you and Mihir, everyone! They can't!"
"I'm sorry, Gwidhe," his brother said quietly. "We were meant to take different paths. Make the most of what they give you…"
Sidhegureth's subdued voice and the brumal landscape all swirled together and vaporized in a whorl of haze. Stars exploded in Kagael's vision—she was back in the entrance chamber of the Citadel…or had she ever left…?
Gwidhe stood across from her, his head in his hands. "What the hell were you doing to me?" he demanded furiously.
'I don't know', Kagael mouthed, for no sound came. The last of her strength seemed to have vanished, then, and she crumpled. She saw Gwidhe reach out to catch her before the black mist completely stifled her vision.
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: The sole reason that I keep writing is because I, personally, find this fic an enjoyable experience. But I've got plenty of better things to do than fanfic-ing, as I've probably proved by my increasingly greater delays in updating of late.
So. I will put my old custom, if you will, back into practice, and that is—Three New Reviews, or No New Chapter. And Artemis—that does not mean anonymously post reviews with invented names, no matter how badly you want another chapter. Gomen nasai.
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It's that purple button that says "Go", for those who don't know.