A/N: Sorry about the long wait! I've had a good question: in "Across the Wall", Lirael is referred to as "Astarael's get". I haven't read "Across the Wall", so how do I explain Saraneth being the Bright Shiner who gave the Abhorsens her powers? Well, Saraneth is described as being the bell the Abhorsens are most comfortable with. Also, if you take the two Bright Shiners who didn't become the Five Great Charters to be Kibeth and Astarael (because remnants of them are still in the Old Kingdom), then Astarael can't be one of the Five. Astarael could've been involved in putting power into the Abhorsen; she just didn't contribute all of her power.
Abhorsen Wields Me
Gabriel Abhorsen dashed through the trees, lungs burning with every breath he took. His legs felt like jelly as he stumbled over logs and crashed through bushes, blindly rushing along. His ears caught the faint sound of running water, and he hastily directed his steps in that direction.
The sudden crack of a branch breaking nearby alerted him, and he turned just in time to slice his blade through the Dead hand who had attempted to ambush him. He carried on running as if nothing had happened, but glared at the albino dwarf who was scurrying by his side.
"Why didn't you tell me there was one coming?" he demanded between gasps for air.
"You did not ask – master."
Abhorsen bit back the urge to sigh – he needed his breath for running after all. He knew that Mogget detested him, but that did not change the fact that the strange creature was his servant. If it wasn't for the binding, he would be very worried about being killed sometime during the night by the odd little fellow. At times like these, the young man wondered why he had ever agreed to receive Mogget's services.
They emerged from the undergrowth and skidded to a halt on the bank of a rushing river. A large island dominated the middle of the water, but the swift current would carry any swimmers over the edge of the waterfall in the blink of an eye.
At his side, Mogget crossed his arms bad-temperedly. "Enough of this", he snapped. "We both know that you have more power than the average Charter Mage, and I am getting tired of this "running away" business. Why don't you just blast those Dead hands to pieces, set up camp, and catch a few fish for dinner?"
"I cannot do that!" Abhorsen protested. "I have never even tried using my powers to that extent before. There must be thirty Dead hands, at least. And I'm wounded!"
Mogget cocked his head to the side in a manner that plainly told Abhorsen that he was acting foolish. "As your servant, Lord Abhorsen, I feel it is my duty to inform you when you are being particularly idiotic. And this is one of those times. You can either annihilate the whole pack of Dead hands by suppressing your infantile fear of your own powers, or we can sit here and wait for them to tear us up."
"Or", Abhorsen said softly, "We could get onto that island somehow."
Mogget snorted in obvious scepticism. "Oh yes. Just get onto the island. Why did I not think of that before?"
The young man chose to ignore him, and concentrated on summoning up a series of Charter marks he had learned from the Wallmakers. He was still surprised by how easy it was for him to perform these complicated spells. Golden marks cascaded from his fingertips, promptly assembling themselves into a narrow bridge that arced gracefully over the water.
Abhorsen grabbed the hand of a flabbergasted Mogget, and pulled him onto the bridge, which for all of its insubstantial appearance was quite strong. They were halfway across when they heard the Dead crashing through the bushes at the riverbank.
Stumbling onto solid ground, Abhorsen turned to see several Dead hands staggering over the golden bridge on their rotting limbs. He raised his hands and summoned a Charter mark, which flew like an arrow into the bridge and scattered the marks like dust. The Dead fell, gurgling, into the rushing water and were swept out of sight. The remaining Dead hovered on the banks of the river, plodding up and down in a futile attempt to find a way to cross.
"I hate to say it", the dwarf muttered from the young man's side, "But that was a pretty piece of spellwork, Abhorsen."
When it was clear that the Dead would not be able to reach them, Abhorsen turned and struck off inland. He and Mogget trudged through the sedge and grasses, making their way towards a magnificent fig-tree that stood close to the middle of the small island. "Well", Abhorsen remarked when they had reached it. "This is just as good a spot as any." He slung his pack from his back, and set about pitching his tent in the shade. Mogget wandered off, and soon returned with a catch of some fine salmon. By this time Abhorsen had built up a fire, and they enjoyed their first good meal in days.
"An island surrounded by running water", the young man mused aloud. "Fertile soil. Good fishing. This would be the ideal place for a home, Mogget."
"Tired of tramping around the countryside with your patched-up tent?" the dwarf sniffed as he sucked at the fish bones.
"Perhaps", Abhorsen allowed. He pulled off his boot and rolled up his trouser-leg to uncover a large gash. Back at the abandoned house when they had been ambushed by Dead, the young necromancer had charged out the door, ignoring Mogget's warnings. He had not been overpowered, but the sheer force of numbers had made it possible for one of the Dead to slash open his leg. The wound, though quite serious, had not prevented him from running into the forest.
Mogget set about patching up the wound, grumbling under his breath the whole time, but nevertheless doing a good job of treating it. When the dwarf had tied off the bandages, Abhorsen flexed his leg experimentally. "Thanks, Mogget", he said.
His servant scowled. "If you had only listened to me back there at the abandoned house and had refrained from hand-to-hand combat, this would not have happened."
"Maybe not", the young man admitted, "But what's wrong with hand-to-hand combat? This is a good sword, made to slay the Dead, if I remember the Clayr's weird prophecy correctly."
"I know", Mogget said impatiently, waving his knobbly hand. "But you don't need to use it all the time. I hate to say it, but you have more power in your little finger than most Charter mages have in their entire bodies. Don't let this get to your head, but you could have destroyed those Dead hands without a thought if you had wanted to."
The young man sighed, and picked up a stick to poke the fire with. "It's not that I think I'm not powerful enough", he said softly. "It's just that I will never be comfortable with performing that sort of magic."
The dwarf rolled his green eyes. "You're not comfortable with it? Well, so what? The time may come when you won't be able to run away like you did back there with the bridge."
Abhorsen mulled this over for a few minutes. Then, seeming to make a decision, he threw the stick into the fire. "This is a good location", he said, looking around the island. "I'll contact the Wallmakers about having a house built here."
"Good idea", Mogget replied acidly. "Who knows? Perhaps with a nice home, a girl will overlook the fact that you slay the Dead for a living, and actually marry you. Poor, dear old Saraneth, when she so generously gave you her powers, did not consider what might happen if you, her darling chosen one, were to fail to acquire a wife and heirs." The dwarf smirked. "So much for the Charter."
The young man bit his lip to refrain from retorting. In actuality, this was a touchy issue for him. Tirelle had taunted him about it for a long time. The truth was, he really needed to find a wife and start a family; otherwise, Saraneth's efforts would all have come to nothing. The Bright Shiner had chosen someone with unusual talents who could wield Charter magic with exceptional skill, but had she chosen someone who would be able to pass on her powers by having children?
Apparently, Mogget and Tirelle were of a mind concerning this issue. He would just have to prove them both wrong.
Abhorsen glanced at Mogget. The Wallmaker had told him never to unbind the belt, or else the creature would return to his Free Magic form. Still, he did have the ruby ring to bind him again, if it ever came to that. Ghidreth had warned him that, unbound, the Mogget would not serve him anymore. In order to truly free the binding, he would have to shed Abhorsen's blood.
The idea was not comforting in the least, and the young lord was determined never to loose the belt. Mogget obviously loathed him, and he did not doubt that, if ever unbound, the creature would not hesitate to kill him to become free. In fact, Mogget would probably enjoy killing him. Abhorsen had never had servants, but he was certain that this particular master-servant relationship was anything but ordinary.
The young man pushed himself to his feet, testing his leg. Mogget watched him out of the corner of his green little eyes. "I'm going back to the shore", Abhorsen explained.
The dwarf leapt to his feet. "What?" he demanded crossly. "I know I've called you an idiot more times than can possibly be counted, but this is ridiculous!"
"I'm going to get rid of those Dead hands", Abhorsen explained patiently. 'It's my job, isn't it?
"You could just stand on this shore and ring your bells at them", his servant replied pertly.
The young man inclined his dark head. "I could. But I also want to try out this sword again."
"You are enjoying that sword far too much."
"It's a good sword!" Abhorsen protested.
Mogget crossed his arms belligerently. "I know that", he snapped. "But it did not save you from that nasty cut you've got on your leg. What makes you think the Dead won't get you again this time?"
"Half of them are in the river, you know", retorted Abhorsen. He turned and headed back for the shore.
Behind him, he could faintly hear Mogget grumble, "Why was I stuck with such an irrational sword-waving fool for a master?"
A/N: Thanks for reading! I love reviews – questions and/or comments are lovely.