Abhorsen

“No!” answered the Dog. She seemed surprised at the suggestion. “No.”

“What then?” asked Sam.

“It is not for us to know,” said the Disreputable Dog. “Our task lies ahead, and Mogget lies behind us now.”

“You’re absolutely sure he won’t come after Mother or Lirael?” asked Sam. He knew Mogget’s recent history well and had been warned since he was a toddler of the danger of removing Mogget’s collar.

“I am sure that your mother is safe from Mogget across the Wall,” replied the Dog, only half answering Sam’s question.

Sam did not look entirely convinced, but he slowly nodded in reluctant acceptance of the Dog’s assurance.

“We haven’t got off to a good start,” muttered Sam. “I hope it gets better.”

“There is sunlight ahead, and a way out,” said the Dog. “You will be happier under the sun.”

“It should be dark by now,” said Sam. “How long have we been underground?”

“Four or five hours, at least,” replied Lirael with a frown. “Maybe more, so that can’t be sunshine.”

She led the way across the cavern, but as they drew closer to the entrance, it was clear that it was sunshine. Soon they could see a narrow cleft ahead, and through it a clear blue sky, misted with spray from the great waterfall.

Once through the cleft, they found themselves several hundred yards to the west of the waterfall, at the base of the Long Cliffs. The sun was halfway up the sky to the west, the sunshine making rainbows in the huge cloud of spray that hung above the falls.

“It’s afternoon,” said Sam, shielding his eyes to look near the sun. He looked along the line of the cliffs, then held up his hand to gauge how many fingers the sun was above the horizon. “Not past four o’clock.”

“We’ve lost practically a whole day!” exclaimed Lirael. Every delay meant a greater chance of failure and her heart sank at this further setback. How could they have spent almost twenty-four hours underground?

“No,” said the Disreputable Dog, who was watching the sun and sniffing the air. “We have not lost a day.”

“Not more?” whispered Lirael. Surely not. If they had somehow spent weeks or more underground, it would be too late to do anything...

“No,” continued the Dog. “It is the same day we left the House. Perhaps an hour since we climbed down the well. Maybe less.”

“But—” Sam started to say something, then stopped. He shook his head and looked back at the cleft in the cliff.

“Time and Death sleep side by side,” said the Dog. “Both are in Astarael’s domain. She has helped us, in her own way.”

Lirael nodded, though she didn’t feel as if she’d been helped. She felt shocked and tired, and her legs hurt. She wanted to curl up in the sun and wake up in the Great Library of the Clayr with a sore neck from sleeping at her desk and a vague memory of disturbing nightmares.

“I can’t sense any Dead down here,” she said, after dismissing her daydream. “Since we’ve been given the gift of an afternoon, I guess we’d better use it. How do we get back up the cliffs?”

“There is a path about a league and a half to the west,” said Sam. “It’s narrow and mostly steps, so it’s not often used. The top of that should be well clear of the fog and Chlorr’s minions. Beyond that, the Western Cut is at least twelve or so leagues further on. That’s where the road goes through.”

“What is the stepped path called?” asked the Dog.

“I don’t know. Mother just called it the Steps, I think. It’s quite strange really. The path is only wide enough for one, and the steps are low and deep.”

“I know it,” said the Dog. “Three thousand steps, and all for the sweet water at the foot.”

Sam nodded. “There is a spring there and the water is good. You mean someone built the whole path just to get a drink of good water?”

“Water, yes, but not to drink,” said the Dog. “I am glad the path is still there. Let us go to it.”

With that, the hound sprang forward, jumping over the sprawl of boulders that helped conceal the cleft and the caves beyond.

Lirael and Sam followed more sedately, clambering between the stones. Both were still sore and they had many things to think about. Lirael in particular was thinking of the Dog’s words: “When ancient forces stir, many things are woken.” She knew that whatever Nicholas was digging up was both powerful and evil, and it was clear that its emergence had set many things in motion, including a rising of the Dead across the whole Kingdom. But she had not considered that other powers might also be woken, and how that might affect their plans.

Not that they really had a plan, Lirael thought. They were simply rushing headlong to try to stop Hedge and save Nicholas and keep whatever it was safely buried in the ground.

“We should have a proper plan,” she whispered to herself. But no brilliant thoughts or strategies came to mind, and she had to concentrate on climbing between and over stones as she followed the Disreputable Dog along the base of the Long Cliffs, with Sam close behind.

chapter four

breakfast of ravens

The sun had almost set by the time Lirael, Sam and the Dog arrived at the foot of the Steps, and the shadow of the Long Cliffs stretched far across the Ratterlin plain. Lirael easily found the spring – a clear, bubbling pool ten yards wide – but it took longer to find the begi

“Can we climb it by night?” asked Lirael uncertainly, looking up at the shadowed cliff above them and the last faint touch of sun a thousand feet above. The cliff stretched up even further than that and she couldn’t see the top. Lirael had climbed many stairs and narrow ways in the Clayr’s Glacier, but she had little experience of travelling in the open under sun and moon.

“We shouldn’t risk a light,” replied the Dog, who had been uncharacteristically silent. Her tail still hung limply, without its usual wag or spring. “I could lead you, though it will be dangerous in the dark if any steps have fallen away.”

“The moon will be bright,” said Sam. “It was in its third quarter last night and the sky is reasonably clear. But it will not rise till the early morning. An hour after midnight at least. We should wait till then, if not overnight.”

“I don’t want to wait,” Lirael muttered. “I have this feeling... an anxiety I can’t describe. The vision the Clayr told me about, me with Nicholas, on the Red Lake... I feel it slipping away, as if I’ll somehow miss the moment. That it will become the past rather than a possible future.”

“Falling off the Long Cliffs in the dark won’t get us there any faster,” said Sam. “And I could do with a bite to eat and a few hours’ rest before we get climbing.”

Lirael nodded. She was tired too. Her calves ached and her shoulders were sore from the weight of the pack. But there was another weariness too, one that she was sure Sam shared. It was a weariness of the spirit. It came from the shock of losing Mogget, and she really just wanted to lie down by the cool spring and go to sleep in the vain hope that the new day would be brighter. It was a feeling she recognised from her younger days. Then it had been the vain hope that she would sleep and in the morning awake with the Sight. Now she knew that the new day could bring nothing good. They needed to rest, but not for too long. Hedge and Nicholas would not rest, nor would Chlorr and her Dead Hands.

“We’ll wait for the moon to rise,” she said, slipping the pack off her shoulders and sitting down next to it on a convenient boulder.

The next instant she was back on her feet, sword in hand even before she realised she’d drawn it, as the Dog catapulted past her with a sudden bark. It took Lirael a moment to hear that the bark had no magical resonance, then another to spot the target of the Dog’s attack.