A/N: I am scum. I deserve to be publicly denounced, drawn and quartered, and put on bread and water rations for the rest of my natural life (not necessarily in that order). My lack of updates has been appalling. I actually had this chapter finished, then I looked at it and decided that it was crap and wanted to re-write the whole thing, so I erased it and started again from scratch.
Also, in my own pitiable defence Real Life was interfering with my opportunities to write. A lot has happened since my last update, as you can well imagine. During that time I did a lot of Soul-Searching, had a Glorious Epiphany, and consequently have some Wonderful News to share with you all: I have abandoned my former plans to become a doctor, and will instead study literature! That's right, I decided to thumb my nose at everyone in my life who assumed that I would conform to their expectations, and will instead do what I really love. While this decision has made me deliriously happy, it has also caused many complications of a practical nature, and to cut a long story short I am now going to try to get an Honours English degree in two and a half years. I've been very busy, but now I'm back at school, studying the subject I love, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
So here, at long last, and with many humble apologies, and oceans of thanks for your encouraging reviews, is chapter forty-nine of Five Great Charters.
The Wallmaker's Relict
Cassiel did not mind the darkness. He had experienced enough of it in his lifetime, stumbling after Free Magic creatures in the dead of night. No, it was not the darkness that unsettled him, but rather the unusual quiet. Earlier, when he had arrived at the Wall under the blistering noonday sun, he had barely been able to hear himself think with all the screaming and chanting. Masses of protesters had camped as close to the Wall as the Royal Guards would let them.
It was a real shame that the protesters had fought to get so close, and not just because Cassiel resented their hostility. No, he was thinking about the other people sleeping in the woods tonight, people who had travelled from all over the Kingdom to watch the miracle of the Wall's completion, only to find that the sites with the best views had been occupied for the past few years by ragged protesters. Thousands had come, and hardly any would be witness to the Wallmakers' last work. Of course, years from now when they dandled their grandchildren on their knees, they would most likely tell thrilling stories about how they'd seen the building of the Wall with their own eyes.
As the Abhorsen, Cassiel and his eldest son had been given a tent near Ghidreth's forge by the eastern end of the Wall. Turiel was ill, and Lessandra had elected to stay at home. Secretly Cassiel was glad that his wife would not be here, because she herself had been an apprentice Wallmaker in her youth, and he did not know how she would handle it. Lessandra had been rearranging their bookshelves for days in advance because of her nervousness.
Cassiel approached the triplet tents and exchanged a polite word with Lieutenant Oscaer as the guards parted to let him through. Tiptoeing by the green tent, he smiled as he remembered his visit with the Clayr. The fair-haired Seers had been women of all ages, numbering around twenty, and he had soon lost track of the names and faces. One vivacious young Clayr, Lydael by name, had been most persistent in trying to engage Vichael in conversation, going so far as to force honey cakes on him. Cassiel had found this most amusing, and pretended not to understand the pleading looks his teenaged son had sent his way. Five of the original seven Daughters of the Clayr had been there. Queen Penemue was, of course, with the Royal Family. And Eligora was at the Glacier, still deep within her trance. According to Neryl the frequency of their visions had diminished, almost certainly because they no longer Saw artefacts that the Wallmakers were destined to make.
He approached the blue tent flying a silver key pennant, drew aside the flap, and ducked noiselessly inside. With a deep sigh he sank onto his bedroll, but did not remove his sword or boots. Cassiel knew that he would not be able to sleep. In any case, he was due to call upon the Wallmaker soon.
"I'm awake too, father." A wavering Charter light ignited, and Cassiel turned to see Vichael propping himself up on one elbow, tousle-haired but bright-eyed. "You were gone long."
"I went for a walk. The protesters are all slumbering peacefully beneath the stars, dreaming dreams of crumbling stones and mortar."
Vichael wrinkled his nose. "And how was the meeting with the Royal Family?"
"Interesting," said Cassiel, whispering despite the silencing spells placed around the tent. "I met Lady Zavebe."
"What did you think of her?"
The Abhorsen considered his answer carefully. "She is very… spirited," he said, not bothering to hide his grin in the muted light. "A bit of a rebel, I think. You should've seen her argue with Andromis. Your mother would like her very much, I imagine." He put his hands beneath his head, staring up at where the blue silk of the tent roof faded into black. "But I could not spend too long getting acquainted. Most of the time I was listening to Dantalion complain about Chief Minister Tralusan and the protesters. Our King was going on like a petulant child about how Tralusan still has the right to officially condone or condemn the building of the Wall."
"When will Tralusan make his decision?" asked Vichael with a frown.
"Tomorrow," Cassiel answered. "Or more accurately, later today. His original claim while he was running for office was that the Bright Shiners were being enslaved by the Bloodlines. He thought we were forcing them to put their powers into the Wall, for our own use. I know," he said at the expression on Vichael's face. "It is completely ridiculous. So he's here to see the Bright Shiners for himself. Tralusan cannot stop the construction of the Wall, thank the Charter. But he has the power to declare open war, which would be devastating for both the Kingdom and Ancelstierre."
The boy sighed. "Any more good news to brighten up my day?"
"It's night." Before his son could make a scathing reply, Cassiel continued. "But yes, there is a bit of news that doesn't concern the ruin of the Kingdom. Dantalion and Farelle are planning to build a large boom chain across the mouth of the bay to Belisaere to control trade. They've been having some problems with Ancelstierran smugglers. Of course, the construction could take decades because by then the Wallmakers will be gone…"
They did not speak for a moment.
"What do you think she wants with us?"
Cassiel did not need to ask who his son was talking about. "I honestly do not know," he admitted. "It's strange that Felio asked we bring Mogget along with us. I'm wondering what she wants with him."
"I've never seen the Wallmaker." Illuminated by his faint Charter light, the boy's face looked unusually solemn and thoughtful. "What is she like?"
The Abhorsen did not know quite what to say. "She is… difficult to describe," he finally murmured. "Ghidreth is friendly and has a good sense of humour, and it's always easy to talk to her. But when you see her, you feel like you are standing in the shadow of something… I do not know. She is like a person out of a myth. And in a way, I suppose she is." Cassiel sat up and turned to his son. "This is history in the making, Vichael, right here and now. I will tell you something that my father told me many times. He was a good storyteller, your grandfather, and I will try to relate it to you as well as he did."
Vichael sat up as well, and the Charter light hovered between them, casting its soft golden glow. Cassiel cleared his throat.
"It all began years ago at the palace in Belisaere, when a woman named Tirelle woke up in the middle of the night. She had dreamed that a magnificent sword was being passed from one hand to another." As he spoke, Cassiel remembered his father telling him the same story, usually as they lay by a campfire during their travels together. "Now for a normal person, this dream wouldn't have been of much consequence. But as King Berillan's personal Seer, Tirelle was far from normal and her dreams tended to be important. So she arose at once, marched directly to the King's personal chambers, and told him about her vision. They knew that the Wallmaker was meant to forge the weapon, and they also knew the identity of the man destined to wield the sword. He had once been a necromancer but had sworn loyalty to the King, and the power of a Bright Shiner had been put into his veins. This man was your grandfather, Vichael. He was sent for, and he journeyed with Lady Tirelle and King Berillan to the Wall – to this very spot. And it was here that the Wallmaker forged the sword. This sword." With great care the Abhorsen drew the weapon from its scabbard. The blade seemed to glow, and he offered it to his son who took it reverently. "A day and a night the Wallmaker worked away, and never had such craftsmanship been witnessed before, and probably never since. In the morning your grandfather accepted the sword from the Wallmaker's own hand. You see the inscription?"
Vichael tilted the weapon so that it caught the Charter light, and words suddenly etched themselves onto the shining blade. "The Clayr Saw me," he read slowly. "The Wallmaker made me. The King quenched me. Abhorsen wields me."
"It was prophesied by the Clayr that the sword would be used to slay those already dead." Cassiel smiled humourlessly. "Of the original four mentioned there, only Ghidreth is still alive."
Vichael ran his hand gently over the inscription. "How old is she?"
The Abhorsen frowned. "I am not sure. Old. About ninety, I should think."
"Is it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet in the middle of the night?"
Cassiel and Vichael turned to see a dishevelled white dwarf sitting up in the corner of their tent. His bright green eyes held a curious mixture of drowsiness and irritation.
"Sorry, Mogget," said Vichael automatically, then cocked his head to the side. "Wait a moment… You do not actually need to sleep, do you?"
The diminutive albino gave an enigmatic smile. Cassiel half-heartedly threw an empty saddlebag at him, but missed. "Mogget, go drown yourself in a puddle, will you?" The dwarf was now used to being ordered to bring about his own death, and did not even reply.
Vichael handed the sword back to his father, then lay back down on his bedroll. "Is it time yet?"
"I do not know. Soon, anyway." Cassiel carefully sheathed the weapon, touching the emerald pommel stone briefly.
"When will we know when it's time?"
"Maybe they will send someone to fetch you." Mogget crossed his arms. "Speaking of which, milord, somebody is approaching."
"Don't call me that," Cassiel answered automatically, before realizing what his servant had said. "Wait – what? Who is approaching?"
"Patience, Abhorsen. Soon all will be revealed to you."
Cassiel frowned, but before he could say what was on his mind, a voice was heard outside: "Abhorsen? Master Vichael?"
Drawing aside the tent-flap, Cassiel came face-to-face with Felio, whose had acquired more grey in his hair since their last meeting. The Master Wallmaker's thin face broke into a rare smile. "Nice to see you again, Abhorsen. Are you ready? Is the Shining One with you?"
"The Shining One is right here," a voice grumbled from behind Cassiel's legs.
They made their way out of the ring of Royal Guards in silence. They walked down the Wall to where the Wallmaker's hut stood. The other huts and forges had long since been torn down, materials reused, and the building looked strangely alone and forlorn. Cassiel tried not to dwell on the fact that the Wallmakers would not be needing their homes anymore.
The brightness inside momentarily dazzled Cassiel's sight, and he squinted up at the light-casting Charter marks that crowded the ceiling. He remembered his father's description of the Wallmaker's home as being full of fascinating objects, and although the walls were crammed with shelves and hooks and cubby-holes, they were empty and bare. Armour stands and weapon racks stood empty. In the corner was the forge, unlit and cold. A large wooden chest stood open and half-filled with stacks and rolls of parchment, and more were piled in the corners of the room. Cassiel supposed that Felio was packing it all up to be taken to the Great Library at the Glacier.
"This way," said Felio, motioning towards one of the two doors leading out of the main room. He knocked, and opened it with a low creak.
Nehima stood from her chair beside the Wallmaker's bed. Her face was worn and there were crows-feet at the corners of her forget-me-not blue eyes, but she was smiling. "Welcome, Cassiel. Vichael," she said, ignoring Mogget completely. "Felio, I'll help you finish up out there." The two Master Wallmakers left the room, shutting the door gently behind them.
Cassiel took a deep breath and approached the Wallmaker's bedside. Ghidreth's long wavy locks had gone completely white, and her brown scalp could be seen through the thinning hairs. There were spots on the loose skin of her neck, and her eyes were rheumy and bloodshot. But her hands – her hands, once so large and capable, looked bent and broken. Decades of toiling at the forge had taken their toll on the woman.
She smiled, showing yellow teeth. "Welcome, Abhorsen." He was surprised by the strength in her voice. Not everything had changed, it seemed. "Have a seat. Both of you." She clapped her hands together weakly, and a twisted piece of metal unfolded into a second chair at her bedside. "It has been a long time, Mogget," she said, eyes twinkling, before turning her head to Vichael. "And I do not believe I have yet had the pleasure."
"This is my son Vichael. Vichael, Ghidreth the Wallmaker." Cassiel was amused to see that his normally self-assured son was having trouble finding something to say to the aged woman.
Ghidreth nodded her head kindly at the boy. "A worthy inheritor of the blade I forged. If it is not too much to ask, may I…?"
Cassiel instantly stood and drew the weapon, laying it on the Wallmaker's lap. She withdrew her arms from under the blankets and sighed, running her hand over the blade. Under her gnarled fingers the metal seemed to hum with energy, and Charter marks burst into life until the weapon seemed to be made of hundreds of brilliant golden flames. She withdrew her hand, and the marks faded. "This was some of my best work," she said quietly, sounding far-off and lost in memory.
Vichael was staring down at the woman's arm, which Cassiel saw was horribly scarred. Ghidreth noticed the boy's gaze. "Do not think that your father is the only one who battles evil creatures. I bound that one with Kibeth, but not before he gave me something to remember him by." She grinned, and Vichael smiled back, finally relaxing.
The Wallmaker turned her eyes to Cassiel. "I thought you had two sons, Abhorsen. Where is the other?"
"Turiel is ill," Cassiel said, carefully sheathing the sword. "Lessandra is with him."
"Ah." The old woman's gaze seemed to turn inward. "It is just as well," she murmured. "Lessandra need not witness this particular chapter in history." Her mouth quirked into a sudden smile. "You stole away one of our more promising apprentices, Abhorsen."
Cassiel's own smile faded. "Does she regret it?" he asked, voicing one of the fears that had haunted him for many years.
But the Wallmaker chuckled. "Charter, no! Put that idea out of your head. Now," she too grew serious, "I called you all here on a matter of extreme importance. It concerns our little friend here."
"I assume you mean me," Mogget spoke up gloomily. He stood across the bed from Cassiel and Vichael, and had spent the entire conversation glowering at the floor.
"Of course." She started to sit up, and Cassiel moved to help her. When she was finally upright, leaning against the cushions, she continued. "I have one spell yet to finish before the dawn." She looked earnestly into Cassiel's eyes. "I must make the bond between the bloodline and the servant permanent."
Cassiel glanced over at Mogget, who was scowling. "I'd hoped you'd forgotten about that," the little albino grumbled.
"I will also give you some of my memories," said the Wallmaker, addressing the dwarf gently. "Hopefully that, coupled with your own knowledge of this world, will be of some value to the generations to come. I do this so that the Abhorsen line will always have a guide."
"Who Saw this?" asked Cassiel, secretly wondering whether it was a good idea to entrust Mogget with all of this knowledge and responsibility.
The old woman smiled, aware of his reservations. "It was Tirelle. Years and years from now, when the world has changed more than any of us can imagine, this one will be my relict."
The dwarf rolled his eyes, obviously not thrilled with being a relict.
"I have one more thing, Mogget."
"Just the one?"
Ghidreth ignored the sarcasm. "Your last duty to me will be the completion of the Wall. You will do your part."
The dwarf sighed, but finally nodded, looking glum.
"All right." The old woman sat back, relieved. "Are you both ready?"
Cassiel glanced at his son, who set his jaw and nodded. "We are."
"Very well. Cassiel, give me your ring. Draw Saraneth and give the sword to Vichael. Both of you, shed blood on the ring stone."
They obeyed her instructions unquestioningly. Cassiel held the silver ring between his thumb and forefinger before handing it over. He and Vichael took turns pricking their fingers on the tip of the sword, and allowed a drop each to drip onto the ruby. It seemed to shine with a dull inner fire.
"Reach into the Charter."
Cassiel did so, easily drawing his mind away from the distractions within the little bedroom. Soon he was floating in a sea of shining marks, allowing the power of the Charter to fill him to the limit, until it was almost painful. He reached out with his free hand and put it on Ghidreth's shoulder. Beneath the woman's frail outer appearance was a raging flood of power, and Cassiel nearly staggered with the feeling of being connected to something vast, enormous. Then he felt Vichael's grasp on his arm. The boy was using the sword to help him focus, and the Abhorsen allowed himself a certain pride that his son, though still young, was powerful.
The Wallmaker reached forward with a shaking hand and loosed the belt around the dwarf's waist. Instantly Mogget seemed to dissolve, and he swirled into his vaguely man-shaped Free Magic form. Cassiel could feel malevolence radiating off of the thing, and he nearly took a step back. Before it could attack, the Wallmaker unleashed a Charter spell in a golden torrent.
"Yrael," she said, her voice resonant. "I bind you to the blood of the Abhorsen, and you will serve him and his line. The spell can only be released by an Abhorsen's bell, or broken by an Abhorsen's blood." She slipped the ring over its head with surprising deftness, and Cassiel rang Saraneth. The low booming peal made his bones tremble, and the ring tightened around the creature's middle. It had time for one last shriek of rage and despair before it swirled into a blazing white column, growing more solid until it took the familiar shape of a small green-eyed man.
Cassiel broke his contact with the Wallmaker, feeling absolutely drained. Beside him, a weak-kneed Vichael sank into his metal chair. The Wallmaker lay back against her pillows, but showed no signs of fatigue other than a light sheen of sweat on her dark brow.
The tired silence was broken by a hacking cough, and Vichael stooped to pick up the ring that had been regurgitated by Mogget. Mogget, the Shining One. Permanently bound. Their servant, and the Wallmaker's relict. And all of this contained within the form of an albino dwarf-boy.
"It is done," said Ghidreth. She smiled up at them. A remarkable old woman. "You two had better get some sleep. You look exhausted, and you will need to rise before dawn if you do not want to miss the show."
As Felio showed them out of the room Cassiel glanced back, and saw Nehima at the Wallmaker's bedside, tucking the old woman in.
A/N: I had a difficult time reconciling the idea of Mogget being "the Wallmaker's relict" as revealed in Sabriel, and his role as the Eighth Shiner as revealed in Abhorsen. I think that since the first book in the trilogy was written initially as a stand-alone work, Nix had to change a few of his ideas for the sequels. I hope this keeps everything true to the books.
Only one more chapter to go now! Hopefully it won't take as long as this one, although it'll have to wait until I'm finished with exams. As usual, reviews are most welcome. If any of you are still reading, that is…