Goldenhand by Garth Nix Read Free Book Online Page A

hearing slits in place of ears; the pear-shaped eyes, now shut; and a mouth as wide as Lirael’s two extended hands, crammed with teeth as black as polished jet.
    There was blood around that wide mouth, on the black teeth, trailing down its pointed chin.
    â€œA Hrule,” whispered Lirael, remembering a book she had read long ago in the Great Library of the Clayr. Creatures by Nagy , a bestiary which described several hundred Free Magic entities. It was one of the better books of its type, though it was by no means comprehensive. There were a multitude of Free Magic creatures, ranging from mere nuisances to the very dangerous indeed.
    The thing in front of her was in the very dangerous category.
    She stepped closer very cautiously, wondering why it lay there so still, while trying to recall everything she had read in the bestiary. Hrule were very rare. Drinkers of blood, she remembered that, or was reminded of it by the stain about its mouth.
    There was an oddity about this one, beyond its dormant state. It had a chain of daisies around its neck, signifying that someone else had already tried some magic against it. Certain flowers, herbs, spices, metals, and scents used in particular shapes or patterns could briefly compel Free Magic creatures into action or inaction. A chain of day’s eye flowers would make some creatures pause, if nothing more, and the more powerful and intelligent, like the Hrule, could sometimes be negotiated with in that state.
    But a chain of daisies could not have rendered the creature unconscious, as this one seemed to be. Lirael frowned, thinking about possible ways the Hrule could have been stilled. There was something on the very edge of her memory, half-remembered from Creatures by Nagy , concerning how to imprison such a thing, also involving some flower or herb lore . . .
    Lirael took another step, and over the sharp, almost painful ache of Free Magic, she felt the presence of life.
    A life ebbing away.
    Somewhere close, a man was dying.
    She walked around the creature, quickening her steps, following that sensation of Life, even as it trickled away into Death.
    There was the body of a young man a dozen paces from the creature. A young man in a khaki tunic, once-white shirt, and black trousers, sprawled upon the ground. A torn bandage on his hand was sodden with blood, and more had pooled under his wrist, spreading out across the broken ground.
    Lirael knelt by his side and looked at his face under the light from the glowing marks on her sword and bell.
    It was Nicholas Sayre.
    She gasped, the sound loud in the silence. Lirael hadn’t expected to see Nick so soon, and not here. A wave of emotion struck her, feelings she found difficult to understand or even acknowledge. She had been eager to see him, because she had felt some sort of kinship or something, she wasn’t sure what, when she had met him before. Even when he was under the sway of Orannis. Though she had felt sorry for him then, and kind of maternal. Or sisterly. Or something. And after the breaking and binding of the Destroyer, they had lain side by side on stretchers, both deathly hurt, talking of her friend the Dog . . .
    Now all those feelings came back, but were overlaid with a much stronger emotion.
    Fear. Fear that he was about to die, before she even had a chance to . . . a chance to what?
    Lirael took a deep breath and forced herself to attend to the situation rather than her emotions. Nick was wounded and close to death. She had to see exactly how, and take action. And also make sure the Hrule didn’t suddenly leap up and drink her blood, as well as . . .
    Lirael looked from the creature to Nick’s wrist, suddenly realizing what must have happened. The Hrule had been drinking Nick’s blood. Blood tainted, or perhaps empowered in this context, with the power of Orannis. The Ninth Bright Shiner, one of the most powerful Free Magic creatures to have ever existed. It must have been too much for the