“I’m sorry,” he gasped, the blood in his mouth choking him as he spoke. “I didn’t know, Sam. I didn’t know...”

“It’s all right,” said Sam. He wiped the bloody froth away from Nick’s mouth with the sleeve of his surcoat. “It’s not your fault. I should have realised something had happened to you...”

“The sunken road,” whispered Nick. He closed his eyes again, his breath coming in choking gasps. “After you went into Death on the hill. I can remember it now. I ran down to see what I could do and fell into the road. Hedge was waiting. He thought I was you, Sam...”

His voice trailed off. Sam bent over him again, trying to force the healing marks into him by strength of will. For the third time, they slid off.

Nick’s lips moved and he said something too faint to hear. Sam bent still closer, his ear to Nick’s mouth, and he took his hand and held it as if he might physically drag his friend back from Death.

“Lirael,” whispered Nick. “Tell Lirael I remembered her. I tried...”

“You can tell her yourself,” Sam said urgently. “She’ll be here! Any moment. Nick – you have to fight it!”

“That’s what she said,” coughed Nick. Specks of blood stained Sam’s cheek, but he didn’t move. He didn’t hear the soft bark of the Dog as she returned to Life, or the cracking of ice, or Lirael’s exclamation of surprise. For Sam, there was only the space he and Nicholas occupied. Everything else had ceased to exist.

Then he felt a cold hand on his shoulder and he looked around. Lirael was standing there. She was still covered in frost. Ice flaked from her as she moved. She looked at Nick, and Sam saw a fleeting expression that he could not place. Then it was gone, visibly repressed by a hardness that reminded Sam of his mother.

“Nick’s dying,” said Sam, his eyes bright with tears. “The healing spells won’t— The shard flew out of him— I can’t do anything!”

“I know how to bind and break the Destroyer,” said Lirael urgently. She turned her gaze away from Nick and looked directly at Sam. “You have to make a weapon for me, Sam. Now!”

“But Nick!” protested Sam. He didn’t let go of his friend’s hand.

Lirael glanced at the column of fire. She could feel its heat now, could gauge the state of the Destroyer’s power by its colour and the height of the flames. There were still minutes left – but very few of them. Even twice as many would not be enough for Nick.

“There’s... there’s nothing you can do for Nick,” she said, though the words came out with a sob. “There’s no time and I need... I need to tell you what must be done. We have a chance, Sam! I didn’t think we would, but the Clayr did See who was needed and they’re here. But we have to act now!”

Sam looked down at his best friend. Nick’s eyes were open again, but he was looking past Sam, at Lirael.

“Do what she says, Sam,” Nick whispered, attempting a smile. “Try and make it right.”

Then his eyes lost their focus and his ragged breath bubbled away to nothing. Both Sam and Lirael felt his spirit slip away, and they knew that Nicholas Sayre was dead.

Sam opened his hand and stood up. He felt old and tired, his joints stiff. He was bewildered too, unable to accept that the body at his feet was Nick’s. He had set out to save him and he had failed. Everything else seemed doomed to failure too.

Lirael grabbed him as he swayed in front of her, his eyes unfocused. The shock broke through the distance he felt around him and he reluctantly met her gaze. She swung him around and pointed to Sabriel, Touchstone, Ellimere and the two Clayr, who were moving rapidly up the spur.

“You need to get a drop of blood from me, your parents, Ellimere, and Sanar and Ryelle, and bind it with yours into Nehima with the metal from the panpipes. Can you do that? Now!”

“I haven’t got a forge,” Sam replied dumbly, but he accepted Nehima from Lirael’s hand. He was still looking down at Nick.

“Use magic!” shrieked Lirael, and she shook him, hard. “You’re a Wallmaker, Sam! Hurry!”

The shaking brought Sam all the way back to the present. He suddenly felt the heat of the fiery column and the full dread of the Destroyer filled his bones. Turning away from Nick, he used the sword to cut his palm, wiping the blood along the blade.

Lirael cut herself next, letting the blood flow down the blade.

“I’ll remember,” she whispered, touching the sword. Then in the next breath, conscious of how little time they had, she shouted at the soldiers.

“Major Greene! Get all your people back to the Southerlings! Warn them! You must all stay on the other side of the stream and lie down as low as you can. Do not look towards the fire, and when it suddenly brightens, close your eyes! Go! Go!”

Before anyone could respond, Lirael was shouting again, this time at the group led by Sabriel, which was almost upon them.

“Hurry! Please hurry! We have to make at least three diamonds of protection here within the next ten minutes! Hurry!”

Sam rushed down to meet his parents, his sister and the two Clayr, holding the bloody sword flat, ready to take more contributions. As he walked, he built a spell of forging and binding in his mind, knitting the marks together into one long and complex net. When the blade was fully blooded, he would lay the pipes upon it and the spell over it all entire. If it worked, blood and metal would join in the making of a new and unique sword. If it worked...

Behind him, the Dog slunk over to the sprawled, silent body of Nicholas. She looked around to make sure no one was paying any attention, then barked softly in his ear.

Nothing happened. The Dog looked puzzled, as if she expected an immediate effect, and licked his forehead. Her tongue left a glowing mark. Still nothing happened. After a moment, the Dog left the corpse and bounded across to join Lirael, who was casting the Eastmark of a very large diamond of protection. It was to be the outermost of three, if there was time to cast them. If there was not, they would not survive.

Beyond the ridge, the huge column of fire burnt with increasing heat, though it stayed a terrible, disturbing red. The red of bright blood, fresh from a wound.

chapter twenty - eight

the seven

Sameth, what have you done now!” were the first words out of Ellimere’s mouth. But she belied her speech with an attempt to hug him, which Sam had to shrug away.

“No time to explain!” he exclaimed as he held out the bloodied Nehima. “I need some of your blood on the blade; then you have to go and help Aunt Lirael.”

Ellimere immediately complied. In earlier times, Sam would have been surprised by his sister’s instant cooperation. But Ellimere was no fool, and the towering column of fire beyond the ridge was clearly only the beginning of something terrible and strange.

“Mother! Father! I’m... I’m so glad you’re not dead!” Sam cried as Ellimere ran past, her cut palm still dripping blood, and Sabriel and Touchstone clambered up.

“Likewise,” said Touchstone, but he wasted no time either, holding out his hand so Sam could make the cut. Sabriel put hers out at the same time, but she ruffled Sam’s head with her other hand.

“I have a sister, or so the Clayr tell me, and a new Abhorsen-in-Waiting,” said Sabriel as they wiped their palms on the steel, the marks glowing as they felt the kinship of Blood to Charter. “And you have found a different path but one no less important. I trust you have been helpful to your aunt?”

“Yes, I suppose,” replied Sam. He was trying to keep all the spell for the forging in his head and he didn’t have time to talk. “She needs help now. Three diamonds of protection!”

Sabriel and Touchstone were gone before Sam finished speaking. The two Clayr stood in front of him, holding out their hands. Wordlessly, Sam cut gently into their palms and they also marked the blade with blood. Sam hardly saw them do it, so many Charter marks were whirling around in his head. He didn’t feel them take his elbows, either, and lead him back up the hill. He couldn’t think of such mundanities as walking. He was lost in the Charter, dredging up marks he hardly knew. Thousands and thousands of Charter marks that filled his head with light, spreading inwards and outwards, ordering themselves into a spell that would join with Nehima and the seven pipes to replicate a weapon that was as deadly to its wielder as to its target.