The Path (a Sabriel fanfiction) Chapter 3
Summary: Sabriel's father is a young Abhorsen-in-Waiting. His aunt, the Abhorsen, brings him along on a strange mission. Who is the girl they are protecting? What does this mean for the future of the Kingdom? Terciel x Sabriel's Mother.
Chapter 2 is here: blackat16.livejournal.com/673.html
Start at the beginning here: blackat16.livejournal.com/302.html
Or go to the master list: blackat16.livejournal.com/3611.html
Aunden disappeared back into the fog as the three riders began following the long inland road across the Winding Post peninsula. Andrael rode behind Abhorsen, her arms clutched around the older woman’s waist and her face turned away from the driving rain. The air grew colder as they went north, and the rain began to turn to sleet. Soon with would be nothing but snow, and the Dead would be able to move more freely. The Greater Dead were unfazed by rain, but it did wonders to keep minor nuisances in their caves and holes.
“Not that I would go back,” said Andrael to Terciel, “But at least in Aunden you didn’t have to worry about the Dead. I keep expecting something to jump out of the bushes at any moment.”
Terciel nodded while trying to keep his horse walking parallel with Abhorsen’s. “It’s because Aunden is by the sea,” he explained, “The Dead hate the sea.”
“I just hope your Abhorsen knows how to use these things,” she said. Her hands, which were entwined in Abhorsen’s cloak at the level of her hips, began to fidget with the bell bandolier. When she touched the clasp that held Astarael in place, Abhorsen gently but firmly moved her hands away. “I get it,” sighed Andrael, “Not allowed. I don’t suppose she lets you play with them either.”
“Of course not,” said Terciel, “They’re very dangerous.”
“But you must practice sometime,” Andrael insisted, “Since they’re going to be yours one day.”
“I have these,” he said, drawing his pipes.
“So cute!” laughed Andrael, “How do they work?”
Andrael’s conversation held Terciel spellbound. He had never heard anyone question Abhorsen the way she did, nor had he spoken at such length about himself. Andrael demanded to know all about the pipes and the bells, then questioned him at length about the Charter spells on their swords, then moved on to eliciting a grand description of Abhorsen’s House and Terciel’s daily life there. Terciel answered all her questions, almost forgetting that Abhorsen was there listening to them. Whenever they went anywhere, it was his aunt that got all the attention, and he was looked down on as little more than a servant. It was intoxicating to meet someone who seemed so interested in him.
“And just the two of you live in that great big place?” said Andrael as Terciel described the House to her, “You must spend all your time just cleaning.”
Terciel laughed. “We have Charter sendings for that,” he explained.
“Still,” she said, “Sendings can’t talk. Is it very lonely?”
“Sometimes,” Terciel admitted, and he thought he saw Abhorsen shift uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye, “But the sendings have enough personality without being able to talk. Besides, there’s also the Wallmaker relict.”
“Wallmaker relict?”
Terciel wanted to explain all he knew about the strange, ancient creature, but he knew that its true identity was a closely-guarded secret entrusted only to the line of Abhorsens. He had already said more than he should, and he could feel Abhorsen’s eyes burning into him even as she was looking the other way. “Just another servant of ours,” he said, and it was technically true.
They made camp in a stand of low trees. They weren’t much in the way of cover, but they were the only substantial vegetation on the entire plateau, and Abhorsen hated camping in the open. Andrael ran off into the shrubs to fetch firewood, and Terciel began unpacking their bedrolls and some food for supper.
Abhorsen kicked out a small fire pit, and then sat beside it pensively. “She doesn’t like me,” she said, sounding a bit put out.
“Should she?” Terciel replied, “You’re not exactly the easiest person to get to know. You raised me, and sometimes I feel like I don’t know you. Besides, you’ve never cared before what people thought of you.”
“Well, I feel I deserve more than to be ignored for the entire trip,” said Abhorsen, her face darkening momentarily, “Especially when I’m sacrificing my… time and effort… to keep her safe.”
Terciel was about to speak up in Andrael’s defense when a startled scream reached their ears. The Abhorsen and her apprentice stood as one and raced toward the sound of trouble, drawing weapons as they went.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank you for reading!
Chapter 4 is here: blackat16.livejournal.com/1073.html
Chapter 2 is here: blackat16.livejournal.com/673.html
Start at the beginning here: blackat16.livejournal.com/302.html
Or go to the master list: blackat16.livejournal.com/3611.html
Aunden disappeared back into the fog as the three riders began following the long inland road across the Winding Post peninsula. Andrael rode behind Abhorsen, her arms clutched around the older woman’s waist and her face turned away from the driving rain. The air grew colder as they went north, and the rain began to turn to sleet. Soon with would be nothing but snow, and the Dead would be able to move more freely. The Greater Dead were unfazed by rain, but it did wonders to keep minor nuisances in their caves and holes.
“Not that I would go back,” said Andrael to Terciel, “But at least in Aunden you didn’t have to worry about the Dead. I keep expecting something to jump out of the bushes at any moment.”
Terciel nodded while trying to keep his horse walking parallel with Abhorsen’s. “It’s because Aunden is by the sea,” he explained, “The Dead hate the sea.”
“I just hope your Abhorsen knows how to use these things,” she said. Her hands, which were entwined in Abhorsen’s cloak at the level of her hips, began to fidget with the bell bandolier. When she touched the clasp that held Astarael in place, Abhorsen gently but firmly moved her hands away. “I get it,” sighed Andrael, “Not allowed. I don’t suppose she lets you play with them either.”
“Of course not,” said Terciel, “They’re very dangerous.”
“But you must practice sometime,” Andrael insisted, “Since they’re going to be yours one day.”
“I have these,” he said, drawing his pipes.
“So cute!” laughed Andrael, “How do they work?”
Andrael’s conversation held Terciel spellbound. He had never heard anyone question Abhorsen the way she did, nor had he spoken at such length about himself. Andrael demanded to know all about the pipes and the bells, then questioned him at length about the Charter spells on their swords, then moved on to eliciting a grand description of Abhorsen’s House and Terciel’s daily life there. Terciel answered all her questions, almost forgetting that Abhorsen was there listening to them. Whenever they went anywhere, it was his aunt that got all the attention, and he was looked down on as little more than a servant. It was intoxicating to meet someone who seemed so interested in him.
“And just the two of you live in that great big place?” said Andrael as Terciel described the House to her, “You must spend all your time just cleaning.”
Terciel laughed. “We have Charter sendings for that,” he explained.
“Still,” she said, “Sendings can’t talk. Is it very lonely?”
“Sometimes,” Terciel admitted, and he thought he saw Abhorsen shift uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye, “But the sendings have enough personality without being able to talk. Besides, there’s also the Wallmaker relict.”
“Wallmaker relict?”
Terciel wanted to explain all he knew about the strange, ancient creature, but he knew that its true identity was a closely-guarded secret entrusted only to the line of Abhorsens. He had already said more than he should, and he could feel Abhorsen’s eyes burning into him even as she was looking the other way. “Just another servant of ours,” he said, and it was technically true.
They made camp in a stand of low trees. They weren’t much in the way of cover, but they were the only substantial vegetation on the entire plateau, and Abhorsen hated camping in the open. Andrael ran off into the shrubs to fetch firewood, and Terciel began unpacking their bedrolls and some food for supper.
Abhorsen kicked out a small fire pit, and then sat beside it pensively. “She doesn’t like me,” she said, sounding a bit put out.
“Should she?” Terciel replied, “You’re not exactly the easiest person to get to know. You raised me, and sometimes I feel like I don’t know you. Besides, you’ve never cared before what people thought of you.”
“Well, I feel I deserve more than to be ignored for the entire trip,” said Abhorsen, her face darkening momentarily, “Especially when I’m sacrificing my… time and effort… to keep her safe.”
Terciel was about to speak up in Andrael’s defense when a startled scream reached their ears. The Abhorsen and her apprentice stood as one and raced toward the sound of trouble, drawing weapons as they went.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank you for reading!
Chapter 4 is here: blackat16.livejournal.com/1073.html