Sam knelt over sword and panpipes, weaving his spell. Lirael checked that the Dog and Mogget were safely inside the diamond, and noticed that Nick’s body was inside too, which somehow seemed right. There was also a large thistle bush, which was annoying and showed her haste. She hadn’t had time to think about where the diamonds should be.
Everyone within the diamonds, save Sam, was stiff and awkward for a moment, in that strange calm before impending disaster. Then Sabriel took Lirael into a loose embrace and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“So you are the sister I never knew I had,” said Sabriel. “I would wish that we had met earlier, and on a more auspicious occasion. We have had many revelations thrust upon us, more than my tired mind can take in, I fear. We have gone by boat and van and aeroplane and Paperwing to come here, almost without rest, and the Clayr have Seen a great deal very suddenly. They tell me that we face a great spirit of the Beginning, and that you are not only heir to my office but a Remembrancer too, and you have Seen the past as other Clayr See the future. So please tell us – what must we do?”
“I’m so glad you’re all here now,” replied Lirael. It was terribly tempting to just fall apart during this brief lull, but she could not. Everything depended upon her. Everything.
She took a deep breath and continued, “The Destroyer is building up to Its second manifestation, which I hope... I hope the diamonds will save us from. Afterwards, It will diminish for a little time, and it is then we must go down to It, warding ourselves against the fires that the second manifestation will leave behind. The binding spell we will use ourselves is simple, and I will teach it to you now. But first, everyone must take a bell from me... or from the Abhorsen.”
“Call me Sabriel,” said Sabriel firmly. “Does it matter which bell?”
“There will be one that feels right, one that will speak to your blood. Each of us will be standing for one of the original Seven, as they live on in our bloodline and in the bells,” stammered Lirael, nervous about instructing her elders. Sabriel was quite frightening up close and it was hard to remember that she was her own sister, not just the near-legendary binder of the Dead. But Lirael did know what she was doing. She had seen in the Dark Mirror how the binding had been done and how it must be done again, and she could feel the affinities between the bells and the people.
Though there was something strange about Sanar and Ryelle. Lirael looked at them, and her heart almost stopped as she realised that as twins, their spirits were intertwined. They could wield only one bell between them. There would only be six of the needed seven.
She stood frozen and horrified as the others stepped forward and took their bells from Sabriel.
“Saraneth for me, I think,” said Sabriel, but she left the bell in the bandoleer. “Touchstone?”
“Ranna for me,” replied Touchstone. “The Sleeper seems very appropriate, given my past.”
“I will take a bell from my aunt, if I may,” said Ellimere. “Dyrim, I think.”
Lirael mechanically handed the bell to her niece. Ellimere looked very like Sabriel, with the same sort of contained force inside her. But she had her father’s smile, Lirael saw, even through her panic.
“We will hold Mosrael together,” said Sanar and Ryelle in unison.
Lirael shut her eyes. Maybe she hadn’t counted right, she thought. But she could feel who should have which bell. She opened her eyes again and with shaking hands started to undo a strap on her bandoleer.
“Sam will have Belgaer, and... and I will wield both Astarael and... and Kibeth, to make the seven.”
She spoke as confidently as she could, but there was a quaver in her voice. She could not wield two bells. Not for this binding. There had to be seven wielders, not just seven bells.
“Hmmph,” woofed the Dog, standing up and wriggling her hindquarters in a somewhat embarrassed fashion. “Not Kibeth. I shall stand for myself.”
Lirael’s hand fumbled on the strap that held Astarael silent, and she only just managed to prevent the bell’s mournful call, which would send all who heard it into Death.
“But you said you weren’t one of the Seven!” Lirael protested, though she had long suspected the truth about the Dog. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it, even to herself, for the Dog was her best and oldest friend, long her only friend. Lirael could not imagine Kibeth as her friend.
“I lied,” said the Dog cheerily. “That’s one of the reasons I’m the Disreputable Dog. Besides, I’m only what’s left of Kibeth, in a roundabout, hand-me-down sort of way. Not quite the same. But I’ll stand against the Destroyer. Against Orannis, as one of your Seven.”
As the Dog spoke the Destroyer’s name, the column of fire roared higher still and punched through the remnants of the storm clouds. It was more than a mile high now, and dominated all the western sky, its red light defeating the yellow of the sun.
Lirael wanted to say something, but the words were choked by incipient tears. She did not know whether they were of relief or sadness. Whatever was to come, she knew nothing would ever be the same with her and the Disreputable Dog.
Instead of speaking, she scratched the Dog’s head. Just twice, running her fingers through the soft dog hair. Then she quickly recited the binding spell, showing everyone the marks and words they would have to use.
“Sam is making the sword that I will use to break the Destroyer once It is bound,” Lirael finished. At least she hoped he was. As if to reinforce her hope, she added, “He is a true inheritor of the Wallmaker’s powers.”
She gestured to where Sam was bent over Nehima, his hands moving in complex gestures, the names of Charter marks tumbling from his mouth as his hands wove the glowing symbols into a complex thread that tumbled out of the air and spilled down upon the naked blade.
“How long will it take?” asked Ellimere.
“I don’t know,” whispered Lirael. Then she repeated herself more loudly. “I don’t know.”
They stood and waited, anxious seconds stretching out awfully into minutes as Sam called forth his Charter marks and Orannis rumbled beyond the ridge, both of them building very different spells. Lirael found herself looking down into the valley every few seconds, where it looked like Major Greene might be having some success at making the Southerlings lie down; then she would look at Sam; then at the Destroyer’s fire; and then start all over again, full of different anxieties and fears everywhere she looked.
The Southerlings were still too close, Lirael knew, though they were considerably lower in the valley than they had been. Sam did not seem to be getting any nearer to finishing. The Destroyer was growing taller and stronger, and any minute Lirael knew it would assume its second manifestation, the one for which it was named.
The Destroyer.
Everyone jumped as Sam suddenly stood. They jumped again as he spoke seven master marks, one after the other. A river of molten gold and silver flame fell from his outstretched hands down upon Lirael’s bloody sword and the panpipes, which he’d separated into individual tubes and laid along the length of the silvered blade.
Moments later, the Destroyer flashed brighter and the ground rumbled beneath their feet.
“Look away and close your eyes!” screamed Lirael. She threw one arm across her face and crouched, facing down towards the valley. Behind her a shining silver globe – the joined hemispheres – ascended to the sky atop the column of fire. As it rose, the sphere grew brighter and brighter till it was more brilliant than the sun had ever been. It hovered high in the air for a few seconds, as if surveying the ground, then sank back out of sight.
For nine very long seconds, Lirael waited, her eyes screwed shut, her face pushed into her very dirty sleeve. She knew what was to come, but it did not help her.