by Garth Nix
‘It can’t be killed,’ said Lirael. But she picked up a very odd-looking spear, a simple shaft of wood that was topped with a fresh-picked thistle head, and stepped over to the creature. ‘Nothing of stone or metal can pierce its flesh. But a thistle will return it to the earth, for a time.’
She lifted the spear high above her head and drove it down with all her strength into the creature’s chest. Surprisingly, the thistle didn’t break on the hide that had turned back bullets; it cut through as easily as a hand through water. The spear quivered there for a moment; then it burst, shaft and point together, like a mushroom spore. The dust fell on the creature, and where it fell, the flesh melted away, soaking into the ground. Within seconds there was nothing left, not even the glow of the violet eyes.
‘How did you know to bring a thistle?’ Nick asked, and then cursed himself for sounding so stupid. And for looking so pathetic. He raised his head again and tried to roll over, but Lirael quickly knelt and gently pushed him back down.
‘I didn’t. I arrived an hour ago, in answer to a rather confused message from the Magistrix at Wyverley. I expected merely to cross here, not to find one of the rarest of Free Magic creatures. And … and you. I bound your wounds and put some healing charms upon you, and then I went to find a thistle.’
‘I’m glad it was you.’
‘It’s lucky I read a lot of bestiaries when I was younger,’ said Lirael, who wouldn’t look him in the eye. ‘I’m not sure even Sabriel would know about the peculiar nature of the Hrule. Well, I’d best be on my way. There are stretcher bearers waiting to come over to take you in. I think you’ll be all right now. There’s no lasting damage. Nothing from the Hrule, I mean. No new lasting effects, that is … I really do have to get going. Apparently there’s some Dead thing or other farther south—the message wasn’t clear …’
‘That was the creature,’ said Nick. ‘I sent a message to the Magistrix. I followed the creature all the way here from Dorrance Hall.’
‘Then I can go back to the Guards who escorted me here,’ Lirael said, but she made no move to go, just nervously parted her hair again with her golden-gloved hand. ‘They won’t have started back for Barhedrin yet. That’s where I left my Paperwing. I can fly by myself now. I mean, I’m still—’
‘I don’t want to go back to Ancelstierre,’ Nick burst out. He tried to sit up and this time succeeded, Lirael reaching out to help him and then letting go as if he were red-hot. ‘I want to come to the Old Kingdom.’
‘But you didn’t come before,’ said Lirael. ‘When we left and Sabriel said you should because of what … because of what had happened to you. I wondered … that is, Sam thought later, perhaps you didn’t want to … that is, you needed to stay in Ancelstierre for some person, I mean reason—’
‘No,’ said Nick. ‘There is nothing for me in Ancelstierre. I was afraid, that’s all.’
‘Afraid?’ asked Lirael. ‘Afraid of what?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Nick. He smiled again. ‘Can you give me a hand to get up? Oh, your hand! Sam really did make a new one for you!’
Lirael flexed her golden, Charter-spelled hand, opening and closing the fingers to show Nick that it was just as good as one of flesh and bone, before she gingerly offered both her hands to him.
‘I’ve had it for only a week,’ she said shyly, looking down as Nick stood not very steadily beside her. ‘And I don’t think it will work very far south of here. Sam really is a most useful nephew. Do you think you can walk?’
‘If you help me,’ said Nick.
OTHER BOOKS BY
GARTH NIX
THE OLD KINGDOM SERIES
Sabriel
Lirael
Abhorsen
Clariel
THE KEYS TO THE KINGDOM SERIES
Mister Monday
Grim Tuesday
Drowned Wednesday
Sir Thursday
Lady Friday
Superior Saturday
Lord Sunday
TROUBLETWISTERS SERIES, with Sean Williams
Troubletwisters
The Monster
The Mystery of the Golden Card
Missing, Presumed Evil
A Confusion of Princes
Shade’s Children
The Ragwitch
Dark Alchemy (with Neil Gaiman, Eoin Colfer and others)
One Beastly Beast
Across the Wall