Kerrigor seemed to have finished with the Free Magic thing that had once been Mogget. His great cloud of darkness was plete again, with no sign of white fire, no dazzling brilliance fighting away within.
He was remarkably still, and Sabriel had a moment』s brief hope that he was somehow wouhen the awful realization came.
Kerrigor was digesting, like a glutton after an overly ambitious meal.
Sabriel shuddered at the thought, bile tainting her mouth. Not that her end was likely to be better. Both she and Touchstone would be taken alive, ahat way, till they pumped out their life』s blood, throats yawning, down in the dark of the reservoir . . .
She shook her head, dispelling that image.
There had to be something . . . Kerrigor had to be weaker, so far from the Old Kingdom . . .
perhaps weakened more than her Charter Magic. She doubted that a single bell could sway him, but two, in cert? It was dark in the Hall, save for the moonlight falling through the shattered wall behind her. And quiet. Even the wounded were slipping away in sileheir cries muted, last wishes whispered. They kept their agony close, as if a scream might attract the wrong attention. There were things worse thah in the Hall . . .
Even in darkness, the form of Kerrigor was darker still. Sabriel watched him carefully, undoing the straps that held Sarah and Kibeth with her left hand. She seher Dead all around, but ered the Hall.
There were still men to fight, or feast upon.
What went on in the Hall was their Master』s business.
The straps came undone. Kerrigor didn』t move, his burning eyes closed, his fiery mouth shut.
In one quick motion, Sabriel sheathed her sword, and drew the bells.
Kerrigor did move then. Swiftly, his dark bulk bounding forward, halving the gap between them. He grew taller too, stretg upwards till he almost reached the vaulted ceiling. His eyes opeo full, raging, flaming fury, and he spoke.
「Toys, Abhorsen. And too late. Much too late.」
It was not just words he spoke, but power, Free Magic power that froze Sabriel』s nerves, caught at her muscles. Desperately, she struggled t the bells, but her wrists were locked in place . . .
Tantalizingly slowly, Kerriglided forward, till he was a mere arm』s length away, t over her like some colossal statue h-hewn night, his breath rolling down on her with the stench of a thousand abattoirs.
Someone—a girl quietly coughing out her last breath on the floor—touched Sabriel』s ah a light caress. A small spark of golden Charter Magic came from that dying touch, slowly swelling into Sabriel』s veins, traveling upwards, warming joints, freeing muscles. At last it reached her wrists and hands—and the bells rang out.
It was not the clear, true sound it should be, for somehow the bulk of Kerrigor took the sound in and ed it—but it had an effect.
Kerrigor slid back, and was dimiill he was little more than twice Sabriel』s height.
But he was not subject to Sabriel』s will.
Sarah had not bound him, and Kibeth had only forced him back.
Sabriel rang the bells again, trating on the difficult terpoiween them, f all her will into their magic. Kerrigor would fall under her domination, he would walk where she willed . . .
And for a sed, he did. Not into Death, for she lacked the power, but into his inal body, ihe broken sarcophagus. Even as the chime of the bells faded, Kerrigor ged.
Fiery eyes and mout