A/N: 170 reviews! Over 5000 hits! And people adding this story to their favs and alerts list! I love you guys! Okay, must get a grip… But seriously, if it wasn't for you this would probably still be a five-chapter vignette about the forging of the Abhorsen's sword. Now, on with the story.
In the book Abhorsen, after fleeing from Astarael, Sam, Lirael, and the Disreputable Dog climb up the Steps to the top of the Long Cliffs. There they find a bunch of dead bodies in a field and some thorn trees. The Disreputable Dog tells Lirael and Sam that a creature was once bound there, inside a stone anvil within a ring of thorns. She seemed quite knowledgeable about it, too. So at long last, we finally get to meet Kibeth!
Within a Ring of Thorns
Although it was late summer, the cool evening air was enough to send shivers through an old woman's frame. Ghidreth pulled her heavy woollen cloak more tightly about her as she circled the perimeter of her property. The Wallmaker paused every few steps to mutter a spell, and the Charter Marks settled into the shadows between the thorn trees, barely visible in the gathering gloom.
The Lesser Stones were complete, the Clayr's Glacier was complete, and now Ghidreth was taking some well-deserved time off while her Wallmakers laboured to finish the Wall on time. She had decided to return to her childhood home; the choice had been a sentimental one rather than a wise one.
On top of the Long Cliffs was the old family forge, where Ghidreth had resided until she had moved to Belisaere. She came from a long line of blacksmiths and carpenters, and her many-times-great-grandsire's stone anvil stood outside of the house. It was a very modest house, with a small vegetable patch and wooden pens for the animals, and the whole thing was surrounded by a large ring of thorn trees. The ring delineated her property and offered modest protection – protection which she was improving now by hiding protective spells and alarms among the brambles. In the days of her ancestors there had been a village nearby, but that was gone now, and this empty field under the darkening sky was dangerously secluded.
Ghidreth paused to stretch her arthritic back, thankful that her hands were still as strong as ever. That she had lived to an old age in what had been a very perilous time was remarkable. She remembered old King Berillan, and Lord Abhorsen, and the Clayr Tirelle, and smiled in affection. Those warm feelings faded when other faces unexpectedly sprang to mind – eighteen faces, to be precise. Eighteen Wallmakers who had sacrificed themselves to make the Great Stones. Ghidreth winced at the horrid feelings of guilt, and could not help but wonder how she could condone the building of the Wall, if she felt so terrible about the price paid for the Great Stones.
The woman finished casting her spells on the thorns, and thankfully entered her house. She hung her cloak on a hook by the door, and with an enormous sigh settled into a chair at her workbench. Sorting through the jumble of papers and half-finished items, she eventually took up a small contraption that she had been repairing.
"Bit messy in here, isn't it?"
Ghidreth jumped at the voice, knocking several tools to the ground. She looked about in the wavering orange light of the stove fire and muttered a command. Charter marks instantly flared to life, illuminating every corner of the room. When she saw who it was, the Wallmaker relaxed and allowed the marks to fade. "I did not hear you come in," she said with a rueful smile.
The visitor grinned back. "Snuck in while you were checking the wards on your thorn trees, and you know they can't keep me out. What've you got there?"
"It's only a toy. Something I have been trying to fix ever since I stepped on it." Ghidreth held it out for her visitor to see. "A cart hitched to a wooden horse on wheels."
"Funny!" The visitor examined the object with an air of intense fascination, before turning to view the entire room.
Ghidreth had to admit that, to a visitor, her home must be very interesting indeed. It was full of motion, for one thing. On every available surface were things whirring, glowing, rolling about, making tinny clanking noises, and puffing with smoke. "You never visited me here before, have you?" asked Ghidreth in sudden recollection. "Go on, Kibeth. Take a look around."
The black dog seemed only to have been waiting for the invitation, and joyfully bounded over to a rack that held an assortment of weapons. She sniffed at the wicked-looking head of a battleaxe with great enthusiasm. The Wallmaker tried to turn back to her work, but found that she could not concentrate, as she was worried that the Bright Shiner would knock something over with her furiously-wagging tail.
"What's that?" exclaimed Kibeth, leaving the battleaxe and springing over to a barrel that sat by the forge.
"It is water," said Ghidreth, and winced when the dog extended her neck so that she was able to peek over the rim. Satisfied with what she saw, Kibeth placed her large black paws up on the rim and stuck her furry head over the side. She lapped noisily at the water, and gave a whiskery sneeze.
"That is special water, although not for drinking," the Wallmaker explained, stifling a sigh. "It is sweet, but my ancestors used it for forging weapons. That is an old tale in my family."
"Really?" the dog woofed, settling back onto her haunches as her neck returned to its original length. "I like a good tale." Her dark eyes twinkled, and her own tail thumped on the ground.
Ghidreth smiled. "Very well. My ancestor the blacksmith, who built his forge on the Long Cliffs, found a spring at the base of them. He and discovered that weapons quenched in the water were nearly indestructible. So he spent years carving three thousand steps – just wide enough for one – down the side of the Long Cliffs to the spring."
"And all for the water at the foot?" said Kibeth, cocking her head to the side.
The Wallmaker nodded. "The very best blades in existence have been tempered by that water. I even had some brought from that very spring to the Wall for my use. It's quite special."
The dog stared at the barrel, then shook her head before getting up to explore again. Ghidreth was finally able to concentrate on her work, but was interrupted minutes later by a crash. She turned to see a very sheepish-looking dog standing beside a suit of gethre armour, which was in pieces.
The Wallmaker stood and placed her hands on her hips. "How could you be one of the Seven?" she asked in exasperation.
Kibeth blew on the pieces of armour, which reassembled themselves, and snorted in derision. "You would rather I be like the others? They're all boring. Dyrim never knew when to shut up, Saraneth was too bossy, Mosrael was noisy, Ranna does nothing but sleep all the time, Belgaer thinks too much, Astarael is downright scary, and Yrael is a pain in the tail. And don't even get me started on Orannis," she concluded with a growl.
The Wallmaker reflected on the dog's words. "I never thought of them that way," she admitted, marvelling at how… human the Bright Shiners seemed when described in those terms. "There are only four of you left now," she remarked.
"Ranna and Belgaer seem hell-bent on putting their whole selves into the Wall. But not Astarael."
"And not you," Ghidreth pointed out. "Will you be leaving the world soon, Kibeth?"
The dog scratched her ear. "I like it here," she replied, not really answering the question. "I'm curious to see how things turn out. We'll see."
The old woman let the matter slide. "Is Astarael still living under the Abhorsen's House?" she asked, turning back to her work. Only one more wheel left to fasten.
Kibeth grinned, showing all of her very white teeth. "She always lived there. She's just retiring, like you."
"Cassiel is terrified that she will kill him."
Kibeth snorted. "No danger of that. She likes him. Must be that whole Death thing they have in common. And he may not know, but Astarael did gift his father with some of her powers, not only Saraneth."
"Gift?" repeated Ghidreth thoughtfully. "Not many people see it as a gift. In fact, many don't want the Bright Shiners to leave. They're blaming your disappearances on the Bloodlines, and us Wallmakers."
The dog wrinkled her nose, baring her teeth slightly. "People are fools."
"Yes they are," the Wallmaker agreed, "but it might even come to civil war. Prince Orrofin's nephew Tralusan might be elected Chief Minister. And if he is, the Kingdom will be in trouble." Ghidreth placed the newly-repaired horse and cart on the workbench. She gave a soft whistle, and the horse rolled forward, pulling the little cart behind it. It rolled and rolled until it ran into a pile of parchment.
Kibeth gave an admiring woof. "How fun! I love all of your little machines."
"Mogget hated them," said Ghidreth, putting away her tools. "When he was in the cage in my house at the Wall, I often found some of my contraptions in pieces. Once I made a wind-up bird which flew around singing, and Mogget in his white tiger form snapped it out of the air and ended up with a mouthful of crunchy metal bits." Kibeth gave a bark of laughter, and the woman could not quite hold back her own giggles. "You think he would have been able to tell," she chortled, "what with the big shiny wind-up key sticking out of the bird's back."
Kibeth roared with laughter and rolled right onto her back. In the midst of their hilarity, Ghidreth suddenly felt a small surge of magic, and tensed; something had breached the spells in the thorn trees and tripped the alarm. She got up and stared at the door, listening with all of her might.
The dog caught her mood and stopped laughing. "What is it?" she muttered, getting to her paws and shaking herself from nose to tail. Her ears had grown so large that she resembled a wingless bat.
"Something set off one of my alarms," replied Ghidreth. She picked up her hammer from where it was leaning against the Wall. From a shelf she took down a small metal butterfly, and muttered a spell. The little insect came to life, carrying a glowing lantern with its spindly silver legs. The Charter lights in the house dimmed as Ghidreth opened the door.
It was night, and she could not see anything. Her horse was whinnying in fear, but no other strange sounds came to her ears. Clutching her hammer, heart pounding, Ghidreth stepped outside. The moon was hidden behind some clouds, and with a whisper she directed the flapping metal butterfly forward. It sailed out into the darkness carrying its tiny yellow light.
Ghidreth only got a glimpse of the thing before it smashed the butterfly and lantern to pieces, but what she did see burned itself into her memory: A tall, vaguely man-shaped thing covered in matted fur, feeding on the limp body of one of her goats, blood dripping from hooked yellow fangs.
The Wallmaker brought up the hammer, ignoring the throbbing pain in her lower back. She took a step forward, and threw out a hand. "Ferhan!"
The golden mark blazed forward, and Ghidreth had another glimpse of tousled brown fur. It was brief, but enough for her to take aim, and she swung the hammer. It connected with a satisfying crunch, and an ear-splitting howl shattered the night.
The Wallmaker stepped back, just in time. She felt the passage of air on her cheek as a clawed paw swiped by. There was a muffled thump, and Ghidreth realized that the creature had dropped the remains of the goat to concentrate on the more immediate threat – her. The Wallmaker cursed silently as she dodged about in the darkness, concentrating on not dislocating a hip or doing anything equally foolish. Mentally she scrambled to pull out strings of Charter marks, weaving them together and holding them in her mind. She needed a binding spell, and a good one. She dragged combinations of marks from her memories of crafting Mogget's collar, and added a few of her own. Marks for imprisonment, encasing, shielding, compressing, constricting…
She barely managed to duck another blow in the darkness, and struggled to keep the Charter marks together in her thoughts. The spell was nearly complete. Only a few more seconds–
The next thing Ghidreth felt was considerable pain, as the creature's paw caught her arm. Hooked claws ripped through flesh and tendon, and the Wallmaker screamed as her hammer fell from nerveless hands. The golden mesh of Charter marks split, fracturing into chips of light. She fought to keep them intact, gathering up the fraying ends with frenzied desperation.
Something flared at the edge of her vision, and Ghidreth turned to see a sight both terrifying and magnificent. Kibeth stood outside the doorway of her modest home, but she had grown larger than a horse. Her black coat was wreathed in fire and shimmered against the night, and flames dripped from her teeth. It was beautiful. It was petrifying.
"Get away from her!" Kibeth boomed. The house rattled.
The dog's aura had cast the clearing into sharp relief. As if by the light of a bonfire, Ghidreth could see the creature scuttling away into the shadows.
"Do you have the spell ready?" the dog rumbled, turning her wild gaze to the Wallmaker.
The old woman concentrated on the Charter marks, drawing them together once more. In an instant it was done. Now she needed something to cast it on, an object of earth or stone, an object to serve as a vessel, to serve as the prison… Her eyes landed on the old stone anvil, which stood between her and the cowering creature, and she placed her good hand on the cool surface. Closing her eyes, she felt the carefully-woven spell leaking out through her fingers and permeating the rock. She stepped back, and nodded at the Bright Shiner.
Kibeth turned to the creature, and gave a malicious grin. "Now, walk!" she barked.
The creature took a juddering step forward into the light, shielding its small eyes with bloody paws.
Kibeth smiled in satisfaction. "Nearly there," she hissed, baring teeth as long as Ghidreth's hand. "Walk!"
The creature flinched as if struck, and crept forward until it stood before the anvil, which was now glowing faintly.
The dog inhaled deeply, and leaned forward. "Walk!" she boomed, and her voice sent ripples through the air and ground. Ghidreth's white hair flew back from her face. Sparks burst from the glimmering anvil. The thorn trees bent over nearly double. And the creature walked, walked until it stepped onto the anvil. Immediately the glowing Charter marks flowed up from the stone, through the contact with the creature, and over the mass of fur and claws and teeth and blood. They enveloped the thing, constricting like a fisher's net and pulling it into the cold, hard imprisonment of stone.
The marks twinkled on the surface of the anvil before fading away. Nobody could unlock those spells, not even the Wallmaker.
Ghidreth backed away from the anvil, wheezing as she staunched the flow from her wounded arm. She turned, and blinked at the sight of a normal-looking black and tan dog standing outside her door. "That was fun," Kibeth said with a doglike grin. "We should do this more often!" Her tail was wagging.
The Wallmaker gave a tight smile, and tucked her long white hair under her kerchief. "I think I need a drink."
A/N: This is the first time that I've written Kibeth, so please tell me how I did.
This was yet another "goody" chapter that explained a plothole in Nix's books. If you can think of anything that hasn't been covered yet, I will welcome your suggestions. I do have a few more goodies planned, but perhaps there are some things I haven't thought of.
Just a reminder that if you would like an "honourable mention", I'd love to do it! So far there's been VanillaBean CEO (Villana Bane the pubkeeper), EvilDonut (Devon Tuli the assassin), and ValorieJueles (short-lived henchman Veloria). I've also got "plans" for Lady of the Outlaws.