“I thought he might as well have them,” said Sam quietly, with a shrug.
“Mogget! Help in any way you can,” ordered Lirael.
“Any way I can,” confirmed Mogget with a sly smile. His confirmation sounded almost like a question.
Lirael looked around, then strode to the middle of a ring of lichen-covered stones, where the spur rose slightly again after coming down the ridge. She checked that the Dark Mirror was in her belt pouch. Then she drew Nehima and Saraneth. This time she held the bell by the handle, straight down. It could sound more easily by accident but also could be more quickly used.
“I’ll go into Death here,” she said. “I’m depending on you to protect me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” asked Sam. He took out the panpipes and gripped the hilt of his sword. Lirael could tell he meant what he said.
“No,” said Lirael. “I think you’ll have enough to do here. Hedge is not going to leave us alone on his doorstep. Can’t you feel the Dead on the move? We will be attacked here soon, and someone has to protect my living self while I am in Death. I charge you with that, Prince Sameth. If you have time, cast a diamond of protection.”
Sam nodded gravely and said, “Yes, Aunt Lirael.”
“Aunt?” asked Lieutenant Tindall, but Lirael hardly heard him. She carefully squatted down and hugged the Disreputable Dog, fighting back the terrible feeling that it might be the last time she would feel soft dog hair against her living cheek.
“Even if I do find out how the Seven bound the Destroyer, how can we do it?” she whispered in the Dog’s ear, so softly no one else could hear. “How can we?”
The Disreputable Dog looked at her with sad brown eyes but didn’t answer. Lirael matched her gaze and then smiled, a rueful, bittersweet smile.
“We’ve come a long way from the Glacier, haven’t we?” she said. “Now we’re going further still.”
She stood up and reached out to Death. As the chill sank into her bones, she heard Sam say something, and a distant shout. But the sounds faded, as did the light of day. Lifting her sword, Lirael strode into Death, her faithful hound at her heels.
Sam’s death sense twitched. Lirael’s breath steamed out and frost formed on her mouth and nose. The Disreputable Dog stepped forward at her side and disappeared, leaving a momentary outline of golden light that slowly faded into nothing.
“Nick! What about Nick?” Sam suddenly called. He hit himself in the head and swore. “I should have asked!”
“Movement on the ridge!” someone called out, and there was a general flurry of activity. Tindall and Gotley ran to their platoons, and Major Greene shouted orders. The Southerlings, who had sat down to listen to Sam, stood up. Individual Southerlings began to climb up the ridge; then there was a general surge forward by the whole huge crowd of people.
At the same time, there was a sudden increase of lightning beyond the ridge and the thunder rolled in, louder and more constant.
“I’m going to close the company in,” shouted Greene. “We’ll form an all-around defence here.”
Sam nodded. He could sense Dead moving beyond the ridge. Fifty or sixty Dead Hands headed their way.
“There are Dead coming,” he said. He looked up at the ridge, then back at Lirael and at the Southerlings beyond. They were all starting to trudge forward, towards the ridge, not further back into the valley. The soldiers were already running back towards the spur, the line contracting. There was nothing between the Southerlings and their doom.
“Damn!” swore Greene. “I thought you’d stopped them!”
“I’m going to talk to them!” declared Sam, making an instant decision. The Dead were at least five minutes away and Lirael had charged him earlier to stop the Southerlings. She would not be in danger if he was quick. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Major Greene, do not leave Lirael! Mogget, protect her!”
With that, he ran down towards a particular group of Southerlings he’d seen before but hadn’t really registered as important till a moment before, when he was struck by a sudden thought. The group was led by an ancient matriarch, white haired and much better dressed than everyone around her. She was also supported by several younger men and women. It was the only group that was not obviously a family, without children and without baggage. The matriarch was the leader, Sam thought. He knew that much about the Southerlings. Someone who might be able to turn back the human tide.
If only he could convince her in the next few minutes. When the Dead attacked, anything could happen. The Southerlings might panic, and many would run the wrong way and be trampled. Or they might refuse the evidence of their own eyes and continue blindly on over the ridge, driven by optimism and hope that finally they would find somewhere to call home.
chapter twenty - one
deeper into death
Lirael didn’t pause to look around as she entered Death and the current gripped her, trying to drag her under in that first shocking instant of total cold. She pushed forward at once as the Disreputable Dog bounded ahead, sniffing the river for any hint of lurking Dead.
As Lirael waded, she anxiously ran through the key lessons she had learned from The Book of the Dead and The Book of Remembrance and Forgetting. Their pages shone in her mind, telling her about each of the Nine Precincts and the secrets of the Nine Gates. But knowing these secrets – even from a magical book – was not the same as having experienced them. And Lirael had never been past the First Precinct, never even crossed the First Gate.
Nevertheless, she strode forward confidently, forcing her doubts as far back in her mind as they would go. Death was no place for doubts. The river would be quick to attack any weakness, for it was only strength of will that kept the current from sucking away Lirael’s spirit. If she faltered, the waters would take her under and all would be lost.
She came to the First Gate surprisingly quickly. One minute it had been a distant roar and a far-off wall of mist that stretched as far as she could see to the left and right. Now, what seemed only a moment later, Lirael was standing close enough to touch the mist and the roar of the rapids on the other side was very loud.
Words came to her then, words of power impressed on her mind by both books. She spoke them, feeling the Free Magic writhe and sizzle on her tongue and lips as the words flew out of her mouth.
The veil of mist parted as she spoke, slowly rolling aside to reveal a series of waterfalls that seemed to drop down for ever into a dark and endless chasm. Lirael spoke again and gestured to right and left with her sword. A path appeared, cut deep into the waterfall, like a narrow pass between two liquid mountains. Lirael stepped on to the path, the Dog so close that she was almost tangled up in Lirael’s legs. As they walked, the mist closed up and the path faded behind them.
After they’d gone on, a very small, sneaking spirit rose from the water near the First Gate and began to walk towards Life, following an almost invisible black thread connected to its navel. It twitched and gibbered as it walked, anticipating the reward its master would give for news of these travellers. Perhaps it would even be allowed to stay in Life and be given a body, that greatest and most treasured delight.
The passage through the First Gate was deceptive. Lirael couldn’t tell how long it took, but soon the river had once again become a flat and endless expanse as it resumed its flow through the Second Precinct. Lirael began to probe the water ahead with her sword as soon as she left the path, checking the footing. This precinct was similar to the First, but it had deep, dangerous holes as well as the ever-present current. It was made even more difficult by a blurring effect that made the grey light fuzzy and indistinct, so Lirael couldn’t see much further than she could touch with her sword held out at full stretch.