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the kite dropped like a cast stone； and a few seconds later； sabriel felt some small life snuffed out。 at the same time； she also felt the tug of human death。 somewhere ahead； near where the kite dined； more people lay dead。
sabriel shivered； and looked at the hill again。
according to horyse鈥檚 map； the path to cloven crest lay in a narrow gully between two bluffs。
she could see quite clearly where it must be； but the dead lay in that direction。 whatever had killed them might also still be there。
there was sunlight on the bluffs； but the wind was driving snow clouds across the sun and sabriel guessed it was only an hour or so till dusk。 she鈥檇 lost time freeing the soldier鈥檚 spirit； and now had no choice but to hurry on if she wished to reach cloven crest before nightfall。
she thought about what lay ahead for a moment； then chose a promise between speed and caution。 stabbing her poles into the snow； she released her bindings； stepped out of her skis and then quickly fastened skis and poles together to be strapped diagonally across her backpack。 she tied them on carefully； remembering how they鈥檇 fallen and broken her charterspell on the parade ground鈥攐nly that morning； but it seemed like weeks ago and a world away。
that done； she started to pick her way down the center of the road； keeping away from the gutter drifts。 she鈥檇 have to leave the road fairly soon； but it looked like there was little snow on the steep； rocky slopes of cloven crest。
as a final precaution； she drew abhorsen鈥檚 sword； then resheathed it； so an inch of blade was free of the scabbard。 it would draw fast and easily when she needed it。
sabriel expected to find the bodies on the road； or near it； but they lay further on。 there were many footprints； and churned…up snow； leading from the road towards the path to cloven crest。
that path ran between the bluffs； following a route gouged out by a stream falling from some deep spring higher up the hill。 the path crossed the stream several times； with stepping…stones or tree trunks across the water to save walkers from wet feet。 halfway up； where the bluffs almost ground together； the stream had dug itself a short gorge； about twelve feet wide； thirty feet long and deep。 here； the pathmakers had been forced to build a bridge along the stream； rather than across it。
sabriel found the rest of the ancelstierran patrol here； tumbled on the dark olive…black wood of the bridge； with the water murmuring beneath and the red stone arching overhead。
there were seven of them along the bridge鈥檚 length。 unlike the first soldier； it was quite clear what had killed them。 they had been hacked apart and； as sabriel edged closer； she realized they had been beheaded。 worse than that； whoever 。 。 。 whatever 。 。 。 had killed them had taken their heads away鈥攁lmost a guarantee that their spirits would return。
her sword did draw easily。 gingerly； her right hand almost glued to the sword hilt； sabriel stepped around the first of the splayed…out bodies and onto the bridge。 the water beneath was partly iced over； shallow and sluggish； but it was clear the soldiers had sought refuge over it。
running water was a good protection from dead creatures or things of free magic； but this torpid stream would not have dismayed even one of the lesser dead。 in spring； fed with melted snow； the stream would burst between the bluffs； and the bridge would be knee…deep in clear； swift water。 the soldiers would probably have survived at that time of year。
sabriel sighed quietly； thinking of how easily seven people could be alive in one instant； and then； despite everything they could do； despite their last hope； they could be dead in just another。
once again； she felt the temptation of the necromancer； to take the cards nature had dealt； to reshuffle them and deal again。 she had the power to make these men live again； laugh again； love again 。 。 。
but without their heads she could only bring them back as 鈥渉ands；鈥潯 derogatory term that free magic necromancers used for their lackluster revenants； who retained little of their original intelligence and none of their initiative。 they made useful servants； though； either as reanimated corpses or the more difficult shadow hands； where only the spirit was brought back。
sabriel grimaced as she thought of shadow hands。 a skilled necromancer could easily raise shadow hands from the heads of the newly dead。 similarly； without the heads； she couldn鈥檛 give them the final rites and free their spirits。
all she could do was treat the bodies with some respect and； in the process； clear the bridge。
it was near to dusk； and dark already in the shadow of the gorge； but she ignored the little voice inside her that was urging her to leave the bodies and run for the open space of the hilltop。
by the time she finished dragging the bodies back down the path a way； laying them out with their swords plunged in the earth next to their headless bodies； it was dark outside the gorge too。 so dark； she had to risk a faint； charterconjured light； that hung like a pale star above her head； showing the path before dying out。
a slight magic； but one with unexpected consequences； for； as she left the bodies behind； an answering light burned into brilliance on the upper post of the bridge。 it faded into red embers almost immediately； but left three glowing charter marks。 one was strange to sabriel； but； from the other two； she guessed its meaning。
together； they held a message。
three of the dead soldiers had the feel of charter magic about them； and sabriel guessed that they were charter mages。 they would have had the charter mark on their foreheads。 the very last body on the bridge had been one of these men and sabriel remembered that he had been the only one not holding a weapon鈥攈is hands had been clasped around the bridge post。
these marks would certainly hold his message。
sabriel touched her own forehead charter mark and then the bridge post。 the marks flared again； then went dark。 a voice came from nowhere； close to sabriel鈥檚 ear。 a man鈥檚 voice； husky with fear； backed by the sound of clashing weapons； screaming and total panic。
鈥渙ne of the greater dead！ it came behind us； almost from the wall。 we couldn鈥檛 turn back。 it has servants； hands； a mordicant！ this is sergeant gerren。 tell colonel 。 。 。鈥�
whatever he wanted to tell colonel horyse was lost in the moment of his own death。 sabriel stood still； listening； as if there might be more。
she felt ill； nauseous； and took several deep breaths。 she had forgotten that for all her familiarity with death and the dead； she had never seen or heard anyone actually die。 the aftermath she had learnt to deal with 。 。 。 but not the event。
she touched the bridge post again； just with one finger； and felt the charter marks twisting through the grain of the wood。 sergeant gerren鈥檚 message would be there forever for any charter mage to hear； till time did its work； and bridge post and bridge rotted or were swept away by flood。
sabriel took a few more breaths； stilled her stomach； and forced herself to listen once more。
one of the greater dead was back in life； and that was something her father was sworn to stop。 it was almost certain that this emergence and abhorsen鈥檚 disappearance were connected。
once again； the message came； and sabriel listened。
then； brushing back her starting tears； she walked on； up the path； away from the bridge and the dead； up towards cloven crest and the broken charter stone。
the bluffs parted and； in the sky above； stars started to twinkle； as the wind grew braver and swept the snow clouds before it into the west。
the new moon unveiled itself and swelled in brightness； till it cast shadows on the snowflecked ground。
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chapter v
锝炲皬锛滆t xt锛嬶紜澶╋紴鍫�
it was no more than a halfhour鈥檚 steady climb to the flat top of cloven crest； though the path grew steeper and more difficult。 the wind was strong now and had cleared the sky； the moonlight giving form to the landscape。 but without the clouds； it had grown much colder。
sabriel considered a charter…spell for warmth； but she was tired； and the effort of the spell might cost more than the gain in warmth。 she stopped instead and shrugged on a fleece…lined oilskin that had been handed down from her father。 it was a bit worn and too large； needing severe buckling…in with her sword…belt and the baldric that held the bells； but it was certainly windproof。
feeling relatively warmer； sabriel resumed climbing up the last； winding portion of the path； where the incline was so steep the pathmakers had resorted to cutting steps out of the granite鈥攕teps now worn and crumbling； prone to sliding away underfoot。
so prone to sliding； that sabriel reached the top without realizing it； head down； her eyes searching in the moonlight for the solid part of the next step。 her foot was actually halfway up in the air before she realized that there wasn鈥檛 a next step。
cloven crest lay before her。 a narrow ridge where several slopes of the hill met to form a miniature plateau； with a slight depression in the middle。 snow lay in this depression； a fat； cigarshaped drift； brigh