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Sabriel had never regretted the impossibility of conversation in the Paperwing more than she did now. Behind her in the passenger’s seat, she knew Touchstone was also struggling to grasp the various life-changing, and perhaps life-ending, revelations that the Clayr had imparted before practically pushing her and Touchstone into the waiting Paperwing, with only time for a quick, shocked glance to pass between them.
Her thoughts went first to Sam. As soon as the Clayr had told her that her son was not the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, she’d known it was true. She cursed herself for not seeing what now seemed only too obvious: Sam had been shoved into the role she and Touchstone had expected him to play, and it had been crushing him. His reluctance to read the Book of the Dead, to put on the bells, the injury his spirit had sustained in Death, where no Abhorsen’s spirit should suffer such lasting harm, now all made sense. She only hoped the damage, both to Sam’s spirit and to their relationship, wasn’t permanent.
Of course, whether the damage was permanent or not might be irrelevant now. If what the Clayr had Seen was true, their entire world was poised on the brink of destruction. Sabriel found that her tired mind couldn’t fully grasp that particular revelation yet, even as her eyes fastened on the cloud of fog, no– of wrongness in the shape of fog– that squatted over the valley ahead, toward which they were flying with all possible speed. Her chapped lips whistled another reinforcing Mark, strengthening the wind behind the Paperwing yet again. She was seized by a terrible fear that they would be too late, either to stop the wrongness or to help Sam, who might even now be fighting, or dying, under that cloud. They were growing closer now, and she could see the pulses of lightning that flickered through it like veins.
Sam wasn’t alone, she reminded herself as the Paperwing began to descend. According to the Clayr he was with his aunt, the real Abhorsen-in-Waiting and a sister Sabriel hadn’t known she had. After nearly forty years spent thinking she was an only child, Sabriel tried to reconcile her mind to the idea of a sister, a new Abhorsen-in-Waiting who was also a Clayr. The idea sent a number of emotions swirling through her chest, but chief among them was curiosity, and something like anticipation. It had been so long since Sabriel had had any family besides the one she'd made for herself.
She was wondering if this sister would look anything like their father when her mind was brought abruptly back to the present, as the scene below them became clear. To their left lay the valley where the wrongness pulsed and flickered, sending waves of hot nausea coursing through Sabriel’s body. They were separated from that terrible valley by a low ridge; its closer side led down to a stream and sloping fields below.
There was a mass of blue-scarved people down near the stream. What on earth were the Southerlings doing here, so close to the obviously malign force in the valley? There were Ancelstierren soldiers there too, another surprise, as this valley was well outside the Perimeter. Touchstone shouted behind her, but it took several tries before she could hear the word. “Left!” he shouted. “Left!”
Sabriel looked back in the direction of that terrible valley and felt her Death sense twinge. There were Dead Hands scurrying over the ridge. It looked like the soldiers had them mostly under control, but she saw the inky masses of four Shadow Hands as well, standing before a tight knot of soldiers. The Marks to raise a wind for turning, for diving, came to Sabriel’s lips without conscious thought, and the Paperwing spiraled toward the scene. As they drew closer, Sabriel recognized the faint hum of Saraneth, sounding somehow different than usual. Searching for the source of the note, Sabriel could now pick out individuals in the cluster, and her eye was caught by a figure in the center of the knot, a person wreathed in icy mist.
It must be the new Abhorsen-in-Waiting, her spirit in Death. Not the source of the strange-sounding Saraneth, then. Then who–?
Sabriel focused on the figure at the front of the knot. He was standing out in front of the others, just a few feet from the Shadow Hands. Her heart lurched. It was Sam, blowing on a set of metal pipes. Saraneth’s song wavered, growing thinner, and Sabriel could feel its control over the Hands slipping as Sam’s breath drained. Her heart was in her mouth as she ripped her own Saraneth from its straps, barely pausing for the requisite moment to clear her thoughts before ringing it in a loud, fast arc. The Paperwing dipped even lower, and Sabriel could see the Shadow Hands flinch and struggle, bound by the bell. Sam sank to his knees as she drew Kibeth, rolling the bell back and forth in an angry jig. The Paperwing hovered overhead without her direction, swaying back and forth just slightly in order to stay aloft. The Shadow Hands, squirming helplessly, dissolved back into Death.
Sabriel almost tried to land the Paperwing right there on the slope, but common sense returned before her lips had even pursed, and she turned the craft toward the stream instead, where there was actually room to make a safe landing. She hadn’t sensed any strong Dead nearby once the Shadow Hands had been banished; hopefully Sam would be safe enough in the minute or so until they reached him.
Ellimere’s and the Clayr’s Paperwings were just approaching a flat strip beside the stream, and Sabriel followed them down. She and Touchstone leapt from the craft before it came to a complete stop, buckling on their swords as they strode quickly back toward the ridge. Sabriel knew Ellimere would catch up to them. Squinting, it appeared to Sabriel that the knot of soldiers had broken up, and the spot where the Abhorsen-in-Waiting had stood encased in ice was now empty; she could no longer see either her or Sam.
“Very good to see you, ma’am,” said a young Lieutenant. Lieutenant Tindall, Sabriel realized, coming down the slope to meet them. “Knew the reports had to be false, but all the same…”
“It’s good to see you as well, Lieutenant Tindall,” said Sabriel without breaking her stride. “What’s been happening here?”
“Well, I assume you’ve heard about the Power in the valley?” Tindall asked, falling in beside her. “We tried to get here before it, to dismantle the Lightning Farm, but we were too late. Prince Sameth and the Abhorsen, excuse me: the Abhorsen-in-Waiting have directed our efforts at defending the ridge and persuading the Southerlings to move back.”
Sabriel suddenly caught sight of Sam again, in the grip of a dark-haired woman who appeared to be shaking him violently back and forth. At their feet was a splotch of white that could only be Mogget. She frowned and walked even faster, nearly jogging.
The woman released Sam and began to shout. “Major Greene! Get all your people back behind the stream. Lie down flat with your heads shielded and your eyes closed, and tell all the Southerlings to do the same. Quickly!” Her attention focused on Sabriel and her companions. “Please hurry!” she shouted at them. Tindall excused himself with a nod, turning back toward the stream to assist his commander.
“Nearly as bossy as her sister,” said Touchstone out of the corner of his mouth, even as they began jogging up the slope in earnest. With a jolt, Sabriel once again processed that this black-haired woman was actually her sister. With everything going on, it didn’t seem that she’d quite absorbed this information yet. The woman- Lireal, the Clayr had called her- didn’t sound bossy to Sabriel. She sounded frightened, and given what Sabriel had learned from the Clayr, it seemed likely that her fear was based on the knowledge of exactly what would happen if they ran out of time.
Sam ran down the slope, a long blade in his hand, and Ellimere burst from behind them, sprinting up the hill to meet her brother. Sabriel and Touchstone shared the briefest of half-smiles at this unusually eager reunion between brother and sister. Whatever they said before Touchstone and Sabriel caught up, however, was brief. By the time they had reached Sam, Ellimere was already running again, farther up the slope to where the Abhorsen-in-Waiting still stood.
“Mother! Father! I’m- I’m so glad you’re not dead,” Sam gasped as he reached them. His face was paler than Sabriel had ever seen it, but there was a new toughness in his eyes, and more than that- a sense of peace, in the way he held his mouth, in his shoulders and posture- that made Sabriel realize afresh just how oppressed his spirits had become, these past few years.
“Likewise,” said Touchstone drily. The blade Sam held was slick with blood. Recognizing that he was using it to perform some kind of blood-based Charter magic, Touchstone held out his palm, ready for Sam to slice into it.
“And so the Clayr tell me that another is the Abhorsen-in-Waiting, and you have a different path,” said Sabriel as he cut into her palm in turn, unable to resist ruffling his hair with her free hand. “I trust you have been helpful to your aunt?”
“Yes, I suppose,” mumbled Sam, and Sabriel realized that he was already deep in the Charter, dredging up the Marks for whatever it was he was doing to this blade. “She needs help now.”
Sabriel and Touchstone continued quickly up the hill as Sam went down to meet the Clayr behind them. Lireal and Ellimere were beginning construction on a huge diamond of protection when Sabriel and Touchstone reached them. Lireal’s head snapped up just as the Northmark flowed down her blade. “We need-” she said quickly, then faltered, clearly struck by the fact that she was addressing the Abhorsen and the King.
“What do you need?” asked Sabriel firmly. Relief flickered across Lireal's face. She was much younger than Sabriel had imagined; she looked the same age as Ellimere. Questions as to how this could be were pushed from Sabriel’s mind as Lireal spoke again.
“We need to make three diamonds of protection, quickly. We’ve begun the first three marks of each diamond, to save time.”
Sabriel and Touchstone went to the work without further question, once again noting the urgency in Lireal’s voice. Sam, Sanar and Ryelle rejoined them, and as Sabriel looked around after finishing her last Mark, she noticed for the first time that a dog with a Charter-spelled collar stood in the diamond as well, next to Mogget in his cat form.
With a pang, she also took in the fact that there was a body on the ground, and recognized it as that of Sam’s schoolfriend, Nicholas. She looked at Sam again, but his head was bowed over the bloody sword, which he'd set down on the stubby grass in the center of the diamond. Alongside it, a set of metal pipes had been laid end to end. Golden Charter Magic coiled from his hands, down into the metal of both. Sabriel felt a sudden sense of awe at her son’s power, followed by another stab of regret for not having recognized earlier where his talents truly lay.
Lireal sealed the outer diamond, Touchstone the second, and Sabriel the third. There was a moment of stiff silence as they all looked at each other. Sabriel was struck again by how very young Lireal seemed, and how tired, even more tired than she was.
“So, you are the sister I never knew I had,” she said. Acting on impulse, she drew the girl into a loose embrace and kissed her lightly on one cold cheek. “I would wish that we had met earlier. The Clayr have Seen a great deal very suddenly. They tell me that we face a great spirit of the Beginning, and that you are not only heir to my office but a Remembrancer, too, and you have Seen the past as other Clayr See the future. So please tell us- what must we do?”
“I’m so glad you’re all here now,” said Lireal with evident relief. She paused, swallowed, and Sabriel could see that she was gathering herself, pushing down her emotions in order to face the task at hand. “The Destroyer is building up to Its second manifestation,” she continued steadily, “which I hope the diamonds will protect us from. Afterwards…” Lireal described how they would descend to rebind the Destroyer during its quiescent third manifestation, and instructed them each to take a bell. Sabriel saw her blanch as Sanar and Ryelle announced their intention to wield Mosrael together, quickly did the math, and realized they were one ringer short.
“And I,” said Lireal once they’d finished, “I will wield both Astarael and Kibeth.” She spoke confidently, but there was something in her face that struck new fear in Sabriel’s heart.
Someone coughed and said, “not Kibeth. I shall stand for myself.”
Sabriel looked wildly around the diamond before pinpointing the source of the voice: the dog with the Charter-spelled collar. Was this a joke? How could this dog be Kibeth? How could anyone? But Lireal seemed to believe it, even if her twisted-up face indicated that she wished she didn’t. She flung her arms around the dog's neck, murmuring words Sabriel couldn’t hear as she and Touchstone shared a look of complete amazement over their heads. Sabriel quirked an eyebrow, and he shook his head. No, he’d never heard of anything like this either.
Sabriel jumped as Sam stood suddenly, and jumped again as, one after another, he directed the seven Master marks into his newly forged blade, marks she herself would hardly dare to speak, even with protection. Her gaze met Touchstone’s again, and she saw the same mixture of awe and regret mirrored there. But there was no time, none at all as the heat from the valley suddenly jumped up at least ten degrees, and Lireal shouted: “Get down! Turn away from the valley and cover your eyes!” Sabriel followed her instructions immediately. The blast of heat that followed made what had come before seem like the mildest of summer days. The top of the ridge was sheared off completely.
The outermost diamond of protection shattered. Sabriel watched the next diamond warily, through slitted eyes, and was unsurprised when it, too, failed after less than a minute. Would the final diamond hold long enough for them to survive the effects of whatever the Destroyer had just done? Lireal had seemed to think so. Please hold, Sabriel found herself pleading silently, focusing her attention on the nearby Southmark of the final diamond, just a few feet from her crouched form. Please give me the chance to get to know my sister, and to learn more about my son.
A flesh-stripping wind howled around the edges of their tiny oasis as the seconds stretched on and on. Finally it began to slacken, and the diamond still held, flickering faintly. By the time the diamond failed, only a hot, nauseous breeze remained.
Sabriel stood, and turned to look back up the slope. Lireal was already upright, surveying them all calmly. “Protect yourselves against the heat!”
Sam offered Lireal the blade he’d forged, a weapon that was much longer and broader than it had been before. She accepted it, and they spoke softly together for a moment, their expressions open and trusting. Sabriel’s heart lurched again.
Lireal turned to face the rest of the group, her face grimly calm again. “Does everyone have a bell?”