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re body。 her boots were soaked too； despite the mutton fat she’d rubbed into them。 her feet； face and hands were freezing； and she was exhausted。 she’d dutifully eaten a little every hour； but now； simply couldn’t open her frozen jaws。
for a short time； at the intact charter stone that rose proudly behind the smaller milemarker； sabriel had made herself warm； invoking a charter…spell for heat。 but she’d grown too tired to maintain it without the assistance of the stone； and the spell dissipated almost as soon as she walked on。 only the mother…spirit’s warning kept her going。 that； and the sensation that she was being followed。
it was only a feeling； and in her tired； chilled state； sabriel wondered if it was just imagination。
but she wasn’t in any state to face up to anything that might not be imagined； so she forced herself to go on。
do not tarry； do not stop； no matter what happens。
the path from the charter stone was better made than the one that climbed cloven crest； but steeper。 the pathmakers here had to cut through a dense； greyish rock； which did not erode like granite； and they had built hundreds of wide； low steps； carved with intricate patterns。
whether these meant something； sabriel didn’t know。 they weren’t charter marks； or symbols of any language that she knew； and she was too tired to speculate。 she concentrated on one step at a time； using her hands to push down on her aching thighs； coughing and gasping； head down to avoid the flying snow。
the path grew steeper still and sabriel could see the cliff…face ahead； a huge； black； vertical mass； a much darker backdrop to the swirling snow than the clouded sky； palely backlit by the moon。 but she didn’t seem to get any closer as the path switchbacked to and fro； rising further and further up from the valley below。
then； suddenly； sabriel was there。 the path turned again and her little will…o’…the…wisp light reflected back from a wall； a wall that stretched for miles to either side； and for hundreds of yards upwards。 clearly； these were the long cliffs； and the path had ended。
almost sobbing with relief； sabriel pushed herself forward to the very base of the cliff； and the little light rose above her head to disclose grey； lichen…veined rock。 but even with that light； there was no sign of a door—nothing but jagged； impervious rock； going up and out of her tiny circle of illumination。 there was no path and nowhere else to go。
wearily； sabriel knelt in a patch of snow and rubbed her hands together vigorously； trying to restore circulation； before drawing mosrael from the bandolier。 mosrael； the waker。 sabriel stilled it carefully and concentrated her senses； feeling for anything dead that might be near and should not be woken。 there was nothing close； but once again sabriel felt something behind her； something following her； far down on the path。 something dead； something reeking of power。 she tried to judge how distant the thing was； before forcing it from her thoughts。
whatever it might be； it was too far away to hear even mosrael’s raucous voice。 sabriel stood up； and rang the bell。
it made a sound like tens of parrots screeching； a noise that burst into the air and wove itself into the wind； echoing from the cliffs； multiplying into the scream of a thousand birds。
sabriel stilled the bell at once and put it away； but the echoes raced across the valley； and she knew the thing behind her had heard。 she felt it fix its attention on where she was and she felt it quicken its pace； like watching the muscles on a racehorse going from the walk to a gallop。 it was ing up the steps at least four or five at a time。 she felt the rush of it in her head and the fear rising in her at equal pace； but she still went to the path and looked down； drawing her sword as she did so。
there； between gusts of snow； she saw a figure leaping from step to step； impossible leaps； that ate up the distance between them with horrible appetite。 it was manlike； more than man…high； and flames ran like burning oil on water where it trod。 sabriel cried out as she saw it； and felt the dead spirit within。 the book of the dead opened to fearful pages in her memory； and descriptions of evil poured into her head。 it was a mordicant that hunted her—a thing that could pass at will through life and death； its body of bog…clay and human blood molded and infused with free magic by a necromancer； and a dead spirit placed inside as its guiding force。
sabriel had banished a mordicant once； but that had been forty miles from the wall； in ancelstierre； and it had been weak； already fading。
this one was strong； fiery； new…born。 it would kill her； she suddenly knew； and subjugate her spirit。 all her plans and dreams； her hopes and courage； fell out of her to be replaced by pure； unthinking panic。 she turned to one side； then the other； like a rabbit running from a dog； but the only way down was the path and the mordicant was only a hundred yards below； closing with every blink； with every falling snowflake。 flames were spewing from its mouth； and it thrust its pointed head back and howled as it ran； a howl like the last shout of someone falling to their death； underlaid with the squeal of fingernails on glass。
sabriel； a scream somehow stuck and choking in her throat； turned to the cliff； hammering on it with the pommel of her sword。
“open！ open！” she screamed； as charter marks raced through her brain—but not the right ones for forcing a door； a spell she’d learned in the second form。 she knew it like she knew her times tables； but the charter marks just wouldn’t e； and why was twelve times twelve sticking in her head when she wanted charter marks 。 。 。
the echoes from mosrael faded； and in that silence； the pommel struck on something that thudded hollowly； rather than throwing sparks and jarring her hand。 something wooden； something that hadn’t been there before。 a door； tall and strangely narrow； its dark oak lined with silver charter marks dancing through the grain。 an iron ring； exactly at hand height； touched sabriel’s hip。
sabriel dropped her sword with a gasp； grabbed the ring； and pulled。 nothing happened。
sabriel tugged again； half…turning to look over her shoulder； almost cringing at what she would see。
the mordicant turned the last corner and its eyes met hers。 sabriel shut them； unable to bear the hatred and bloodlust glowing in its gaze like a poker left too long in the forge。 it howled again and almost flowed up the remaining steps； flames dripping from its mouth； claws and feet。
sabriel； eyes still closed； pushed on the ring。
the door flew open and she fell in； crashing to the ground in a flurry of snow； eyes snapping open。 desperately； she twisted herself around on the ground； ignoring the pain in her knees and hands。 reaching back outside； she snagged the hilt of her sword and snatched it in。
as the blade cleared the doorway； the mordicant reached it； and twisting itself side… ways to pass the narrow portal； thrust an arm inside。 flames boiled from its grey…green flesh； like beads of sweat； and small plumes of black smoke spiraled from the flames； bringing with them a stench like burning hair。
sabriel；