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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； bright in the moonlight； stark white against the red granite。 there were no trees； no vegetation at all； but in the very center of the drift； a dark grey stone cast a long moonshadow。
it was twice sabriel鈥檚 girth and three times her height； and looked whole till she walked closer and saw the zigzag crack that cut it down the middle。
sabriel had never seen a true charter stone before； but she knew they were supposed to be like the wall； with charter marks running like quicksilver through the stone； forming and dissolving； only to re…form again； in a neverending story that told of the making of the world。
there were charter marks on this stone； but they were still； as frozen as the snow。 dead marks； nothing more than meaningless inscriptions； carved into a sculptured stone。
it wasn鈥檛 what sabriel had expected； though she now realized that she hadn鈥檛 thought about it properly。 she鈥檇 thought of lightning or suchlike as the splitter of the stone； but forgotten lessons remembered too late told her that wasn鈥檛 so。 only some terrible power of free magic could split a charter stone。
she walked closer to the stone； fear rising in her like a toothache in its first growth； signaling worse to e。 the wind was stronger and colder； too； out on the ridge； and the oilskin seemed less forting； as its memories of her father brought back remembrance of certain pages of the book of the dead and tales of horror told by little girls in the darkness of their dormitory； far from the old kingdom。
fears came with these memories； till sabriel wrestled them to the back of her mind； and forced herself closer to the stone。
dark patches of 。 。 。 something 。 。 。 obscured some of the marks； but it wasn鈥檛 until sabriel pushed her face almost to the stone that she could make out what they were； so dull and black in the moonlight。
when she did see； her head snapped up； and she stumbled backwards； almost overbalancing into the snow。 the patches were dried blood； and when she saw them； sabriel knew how the stone had been broken； and why the blood hadn鈥檛 been cleaned away by rain or snow 。 。 。 why the stone never would be clean。
a charter mage had been sacrificed on the stone。 sacrificed by a necromancer to gain access to death； or to help a dead spirit break through into life。
sabriel bit her lower lip till it hurt and her hands； almost unconsciously； fidgeted； halfdrawing charter marks in nervousness and fear。
the spell for that sort of sacrifice was in the last chapter of the book of the dead。 she remembered it now； in sickening detail。 it was one of the many things she seemed to have forgotten from that green…bound book鈥攐r had been made to forget。 only a very powerful necromancer could use that spell。 only a totally evil one would want to。 and evil breeds evil； evil taints places and makes them attractive to further acts of 。 。 。
鈥渟top it！鈥潯hispered sabriel aloud； to still her mind of its imaginings。 it was dark； windy and getting colder by the minute。 she had to make a decision： to camp and call he