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where Richard and Kahlan are, last we heard. If she did lose the book and
started right out to come here from there, she won't show up for yet another
week or two. If she
went on to see Richard first, then it will be longer, I imagine. Ann
doesn't travel all that fast, you know."
"I know," Warren said. "She is getting up there in years. But that's
just another reason why I'm so worried."
What really worried Zedd was the way the journey book went silent just
as Ann was about to reach Richard and Kahlan. Zedd had been eagerly
anticipating hearing that Richard and Kahlan were safe, that Kahlan was all
healed. Maybe even that Richard was ready to return. Ann knew how eager they
were for word and would certainly have had something to report. Zedd didn't
like the coincidence that the journey book went silent right at that time.
He didn't like it one bit.
The whole thing made him want to scratch as if he'd been bitten by a
white mosquito.
"Now look here, Warren, a month isn't so long not to hear from her. In
the past, it's sometimes been weeks and weeks between her messages. It's too
early to start getting ourselves all worked up with worry. Besides, we have
our own concerns which require our attention."
Zedd didn't know what they could do even if Ann were in trouble
somewhere. They had no idea how to find her.
Warren flashed an apologetic smile. "You're right, Zedd."
Zedd moved a map and found a half loaf of bread left from the night
before. He took a big bite, giving himself an excuse to chew instead of
talk. When he talked, he feared he only let out the true level of his worry
not just about Ann, but also about Richard and Kahlan.
Warren was an able wizard, and smarter than just about anyone Zedd had
ever met. Zedd often had trouble finding something to talk about that Warren
hadn't already heard of, or was intimately familiar with. There was
something refreshing about sharing knowledge with someone who nodded
knowingly at esoteric points of magic that no one else would fathom, someone
who could fill in little gaps in the odd spell, or delighted at having his
own little gaps filled in by what Zedd knew. Warren retained more about
prophecy than Zedd thought anyone had a right to know in the first place.
Warren was a fascinating mix of obstinate old man and callow youth. He
was at once set in his ways, and at the same time openly, infinitely,
innocently, curious.
The one thing that made Warren fall silent, though, was when they
discussed Richard's "vision." Warren's face would go blank and he would sit
without comment while others argued over what Richard had said in his
letters and if there was any validity to it. Whenever Zedd had Warren alone
and asked him what he thought, Warren would say only "I follow Richard; he
is my friend, and he is the Lord Rahl." Warren would not debate or discuss
Richard's instructions to the army-or, more specifically, Richard's refusal
to give instructions. Richard had given his orders, as far as Warren was
concerned, and they were to be swallowed, not chewed.
Zedd noticed than Warren was twisting his robes again.
Zedd waved his bread. "You look like a wizard with his pants full of
itching spells. Do you have something you need to let out, Warren?"
Warren grinned sheepishly. "Am I that obvious?"
Zedd patted the boy on the back. "No, Warren, I'm just that good."
Warren laughed at Zedd's joke. Zedd gestured with his bread toward the
folding
canvas chair. Warren looked behind himself at the chair, but shook his
head. Zedd figured it must be important, if Warren felt he needed to stand
to say it.
"Zedd, with winter upon us, do you believe the Imperial Order will
attack, or wait until spring?"
"Well, now, that's always a worry. The not knowing leaves your stomach
all in knots. But you've all worked hard. You've all trained and practiced.
You'll do just fine, Warren. The Sisters, too."
Warren didn't seem to be interested in hearing what Zedd was saying. He
was scratching his temple, waiting his turn to speak.
"Yes, well, thank you, Zedd. We have been working hard.
"Umm, General Leiden thinks winter is our best friend right now. He,
his Keltish officers, and some of the D'Harans believe that Jagang would be
foolhardy to start a campaign with winter just setting in. Kelton isn't all
that far north of here, so General Leiden is familiar with the difficulty of
winter warfare in the terrain we would fall back to. He's convinced the
Order is waiting for spring."
"General Leiden in a good man, and may be second-in-command, after
General Reibisch," Zedd said in an even voice as he watched Warren's blue
eyes, "but, I don't agree with him."
Warren looked crestfallen. "Oh."
The general had brought his Keltish division down south a couple of
months before to reinforce the D'Haran army, at General Reibisch's request.
Regarding Kahlan as their queen, since Richard had named her so, the Keltish
forces still had an independent streak, even if they were now part of the
"D'Haran Empire," as everyone had taken to calling it.
Zedd didn't do anything to discourage such talk; it was better for
everyone in the New World to be one mighty force than a collection of
tribes. As far as Zedd was concerned, Richard had clearly had the right
instincts in that. A war of this scale would have been ungovernable were the
New World not one. Having everyone think of themselves as part of the
D'Haran Empire first and foremost could only help make it so.
Zedd cleared his throat. "But that's just a guess, Warren. I could be
wrong. General Leiden is an experienced man, and no fool. I could be wrong."
"But so could Leiden be wrong. I guess that puts you with General
Reibisch. He's been pacing his tent every night for the last two months."
Zedd shrugged. "Is there something important to you, Warren, that
hinges on what the Imperial Order does? Are you waiting for them to make up
your mind for you about something?"
Warren held up his hands as if to ward the very notion. "No-no, of
course not. It's just that . . . it's just that it would be a bad time to be
thinking about such things, is all .... But if they were going to lie low
for the winter . . ." Warren fussed with his sleeve. "That's all I meant
.... If you thought they were going to wait until spring, or something . .
." His voice trailed off.
"And if they were, then-?"
Warren stared at the ground while he twisted his robes at his stomach
into a purple knot. "If you think they might decide to move this winter,
then it wouldn't be right for me-for us-to be thinking about such things."
Zedd scratched his chin and changed his approach. "Let's say I believe
the Order is going to sit tight for the winter. Then what might you do, in
that case?"
Warren threw his hands up. "Zedd will you marry Verna and me?"
Zedd's brow went up as he drew back his head. "Bags, my boy, that's a
mouthful to swallow first thing in the morning."
Warren took two big strides closer. "Will you Zedd? I mean, only if you
really think the Order is going to sit down there in Anderith for the
winter. If they are, then, well, then it would be, I mean, we might as
well-"
"Do you love Verna, Warren?"
"Of course I do!"
"And does Verna love you?"
"Well, of course she does."
Zedd shrugged. "Then I'll marry the both of you."
"You will? Oh, Zedd, that would be wonderful." Warren turned, reaching
one hand toward the tent's opening, lifting his other back toward Zedd.
"Wait. Wait there a moment."
"Well, I was about to flap my arms and fly to the moon, but if you want
me to wait-"
Warren was already out the tent. Zedd heard muffled voices coming from
outside. Warren came back in-right on Verna's heels.
Verna beamed from ear to ear, which Zedd found unsettling in its own
way, being so unusual.
"Thank you for offering to marry us, Zedd. Thank you! Warren and I
wanted you to do the ceremony. I told him you would do it, but Warren wanted
to ask you and give you a chance to say no. I can't think of anything more
meaningful than being wedded by the First Wizard."
Zedd thought she was a lovely woman. A little fussy about rules and
such, at times, but well intentioned. She worked hard. She didn't shy from
some of the things Zedd had asked of her. And, she obviously held Warren in
warm regard, as well as respecting him.
"When?" Verna asked. "When do you think would be an appropriate time?"
Zedd screwed up his face. "Do you two think you can wait until I've had
a proper breakfast?"
They both grinned.
"We were thinking more along the lines of an evening wedding," Verna
said. "Maybe we could have a party, with music and dancing."
Warren gestured nonchalantly. "We were thinking something to make a
pleasant break in all the training."
"A break? How much time do you two think you will be needing away from
your duties-"
"Oh, no, Zedd!" Warren had gone as purple as his robes. "We didn't mean
we would-I mean we would still be doing-we would only like-"
"We don't want any time away, Zedd," Verna put in, bringing Warren's
bashful babbling to an end. "We just thought it would be a nice opportunity
for everyone to have a well-earned party for an evening. We won't be leaving
our posts."
Zedd put a bony arm around Verna's shoulders. "You two can have all the
time away you want. We all understand. I'm happy for you both."
"That's great, Zedd," Warren said with a sigh. "We really-"
A red-faced officer burst into the tent without so much as announcing
himself. "Wizard Zorander!"
Two Sisters charged in right behind him.
"Prelate!" Sister Philippa called.
"They're coming!" Sister Phoebe cried.
Both women were white-faced and looked to be on the verge of losing
their breakfast. Sister Phoebe was trembling like a wet dog in winter. Zedd
then saw that Sister Philippa's hair was singed on one side and the shoulder
of her dress was blackened. She had been one of those on far watch for the
enemy gifted.
Now Zedd knew what the whistling sound he thought he'd heard was. It
was very distant screams.
Rolling up from the distance came the note of the secondary waypoint
alarm horns. Zedd felt the faint tingle of magic woven through them, so he
knew they were genuine. Outside the tent, the muted sounds of camp life rose
into a din of activity. Weapons were being yanked from where they were
stacked, fires hissed as they were dowsed, swords were being strapped on,
others were being drawn, horses whinnied at the sudden racket.
Warren seized Sister Philippa's arm and started issuing orders. "Get
the line coordinated. Don't let them be seen-keep behind the third ridge.
Set the trips close-we need to give the enemy confidence. Cavalry?"
The woman nodded.
"Coming in two wings," the officer put in. "But they aren't charging
yet-they don't want to get out too far ahead of their foot soldiers."
"Start the first fire behind them-once they're past the blast point
just like
we've drilled," Warren told Sister Philippa as she nodded heedfully to
his instructions. The intention was to trap any cavalry charge between walls
of violent magic. It had to be focused properly to have any hope of piercing
the enemy's shields.
"Prelate," Sister Phoebe said, still panting, "you can't imagine the
numbers. Dear Creator, it looks like the ground is moving, like the hills
are melting men toward us."
Verna put a comforting hand to the young Sister's shoulder. "I know,
Phoebe. I know. But we all know what to do."
Verna was already ushering the two Sisters out and calling for her
other aides, as yet more officers and returning scouts leaped from horses.
A big, bearded soldier, sweat running down his face, barged into the
tent gasping for his breath.
"The whole blasted force. All of 'em."
"Cavalry with lances-enough to break their way and then some," another
man shouted into the tent from atop a lathered horse, pausing only long
enough to deliver the news to Zedd before charging off.
"Archers?" Zedd asked the two soldiers still in his tent.
The officer with the beard shook his head. "Too far to tell." He gulped
air. "But I'd bet my life they're right behind the pikemen's shields."
"No doubt," Zedd said. "When they get close enough, they'll show
themselves."
Warren grabbed the bearded officer's sleeve and pulled him along behind
as he trotted out of the tent. "Don't worry, when they show themselves we'll
have something to put out their eyes."
The other man ran on to his duties. In an instant, Zedd was standing
alone in his tent, lit from the outside by early-morning winter sun. It was
a cold dawn. It would be a bloody day.
Outside the tent, the racket exploded into the uproar of practiced
pandemonium. Everyone had a job, and knew it well; these were mostly
battle-tested D'Harans. Zedd had snuck close and had seen how fearsome the
Imperial Order troops looked,
but the D'Harans were their match in gristle. For generations, D'Harans
prided themselves on being the fiercest fighters in existence. For a good
part of his life, Zedd had battled D'Harans who had proven their boasts
true.
Zedd could heir someone shouting, "Move, move, move." It sounded like
General Reibisch. Zedd dashed to the tent's opening, pausing at the brink of
a river of men flowing past in a great churning mass.
General Reibisch skidded to a halt just outside the tent.
"Zedd-we were right."
Zedd nodded his disappointment to have surmised the enemy's plans. This
was one time he wished he'd been wrong.
"We're breaking camp," General Reibisch said. "We've not much time.
I've already ordered the advance guard to shift their positions north to
cover the supply wagons."
"Is it all of them-or just a jab to test us?"
"It's the whole bloody lot."
"Dear spirits," Zedd whispered. At least he had made what plans for
this eventuality as could be made. He had trained the gifted to expect this
so they wouldn't be thrown off balance. It would come just as Zedd told them
it would; that would aid their confidence and give them courage. The day
hinged on the gifted.
General Reibisch swiped his meaty hand across his mouth and jaw as he
looked to the south, toward an enemy he couldn't yet see. The early sun made
his rustcolored hair look red, and the scar that ran from his left temple to
his jaw stand out like a streak of frozen white lightning.
"Our sentries pulled back along with the outer lines. No use in them
standing ground, since it's the whole Imperial Order."
Zedd quickly nodded his agreement. "We'll be the magic against magic
for you, General."
The man had a lusty glint in his grayish-green eye. "We're the steel
for you, Zedd. We'll show them bastards a lot of both today."
"Just don't show them too much, too soon," Zedd warned.
"I'm not about to change our plans now," he said over the sound of the
tumult.
"Good." Zedd snatched the arm of a soldier running past. "You. I need
your help. Pack up my things in there for me, would you, lad? I need to get
to the Sisters."
General Reibisch gestured the young soldier into Zedd's tent, and the
young man leaped to the task.
"The scouts said they're all staying on this side of the Drun River,
just as we hoped."
"Good. We won't have to worry about them flanking us, at least not from
the west." Zedd swept his gaze over the dissolving camp as the men swiftly
set about their jobs. He looked back to the general's weathered face. "Just
get our men north into those valleys in time, General, so that we can't be
surrounded. The gifted will cover your tails."
"We'll plug up the valleys, don't you worry."
"The river isn't frozen over, yet, is it?"
General Reibisch shook his head. "Maybe enough for a rat to skate on,
but not the wolf that's after him."
"That should keep them from crossing." Zedd squinted off to the south.
"I have to go check on Adie and her Sisters. May the good spirits be with
you, General. They won't need to watch your back-we'll do that."
General Reibisch caught Zedd's arm. "There's more than we thought,
Zedd. Twice the number at least. If my scouts weren't just stuttering, there
may be three times the number. Think you can slow that many down while
keeping them focused on trying to sink their teeth into my backside?"
The plan was to draw the enemy north while staying just out of their
reach--close enough to make them salivate but not close enough to let them
get a good bite. Crossing the river at this time of year would be
impractical for an army that size. With the river on one side, and mountains
on the other, a force the size of the Imperial Order couldn't so easily
surround and overwhelm the "D'Haran Empire" troops, who were outnumbered ten
or twenty to one.
The plan, too, was designed to keep in mind Richard's admonition about
not attacking directly into the Order. Zedd wasn't sure about the validity
of Richard's warning, but knew better than to so openly tempt ruin.
Hopefully, once they enticed the enemy into that tighter terrain,
terrain more defensible, the Order would lose some of their advantage and
their advance could be halted. Once the Imperial Order was stalled, the
D'Harans could begin working the enemy down to size. The D'Harans thought
nothing of being outnumbered; it just gave them a better opportunity to
prove themselves.
Zedd stared off, imagining the hillsides darkened with the enemy
pouring forth. He was already seeing the lethal powers he would unleash.
He knew, too, that in battle things rarely went as planned.
"Don't you worry, General, today the Imperial Order is going to begin
paying a terrible price for its aggression."
The grinning general clapped Zedd on the side of the shoulder. "Good
man."
General Reibisch charged off, calling for his aides and his horse,
collecting a growing crowd of men around him as he went.
It had begun.
Arms resting on his thighs, Richard crouched in the belly of the beast.
"Well?" Nicci asked from atop her horse.
Richard stood beside a rib bone that towered to well over twice his
height. He shielded his eyes against the golden sunlight as he briefly
scanned the empty horizon behind himself. He looked back at Nicci, her hair
honeyed by the low sun.
"I'd say it was a dragon."
When her mare began to dance sideways, trying to put distance between
itself and the expanse of bones, Nicci took the slack out of the reins.
"Dragon," she repeated in a flat voice.
Here and there dried scraps of meat stuck to the bones. Richard swished
a hand at the cloud of flies buzzing around him. The faint stench of decay
hung over the site. As he stepped out of the cage of giant rib bones
standing belly-up, he gestured toward the head, nestled in a bed of brown
grass. There was enough room to walk between the ribs without them touching
his shoulders.
"I recognize the teeth. I had a dragon's tooth, once."
Nicci looked skeptical. "Well, whatever it is, if you've seen enough,
let's be on our way."
Richard brushed his hands clean. The stallion snorted and stepped away
from him when he approached. The horse didn't like the smell of death, and
didn't trust Richard after having been near it. Richard stroked the glossy
black neck.
"Steady, Boy," he said in a comforting voice. "Easy now."
When she saw Richard finally mount up, Nicci turned her dappled mare
and started off once more. The late-afternoon light cast long, clawed
shadows of the rib bones toward him, as if reaching out, calling him back to
the ghost of some terrible end. He glanced back over his shoulder at the
length of the skeletal remains, stretched out in the middle of an empty,
gently rolling grassland, before urging his stallion into a trot to catch up
with Nicci. His horse needed little encouragement to be away from the dying
place, and happily sprang into his easy loping gallop, instead.
In the month or so Richard had spent with the horse, the two of them
had become used to each other. The horse was willing enough, but never
really friendly. Richard wasn't interested enough to go to the effort of
doing more; making friends with a horse was just about the last of his
concerns. Nicci hadn't known if the horses had names, and didn't. seem
interested in naming animals, so Richard simply called the black stallion
"Boy," and Nicci's dappled gray mare "Girl," and left it at that. Nicci
seemed neither pleased or displeased about him naming the horses; she simply
went along with his convention.
"Do you actually believe it's the remains of a dragon?" Nicci asked
when he caught up with her.
The stallion slowed and, glad to be back in the herd, gave the mare's
flanks a nuzzle. Girl merely turned her closest ear toward him in
recognition.
"It's about the right size, as I remember."
Nicci tossed her head to flick her hair back over her shoulder. "You're
serious, aren't you?"
Richard frowned his puzzlement. "You saw it. What else could it
possibly be?"
She conceded with a sigh. "I just thought it was the bones of some
long-extinct beast."
"With flies still buzzing around it? It still had a few bits of sinew
dried to the bones. It's not some ancient thing. It couldn't be much older
than six monthspossibly much less."
She was watching him from the corner of her eye, again. "So, they
really do have dragons in the New World?"
"In the Midlands, anyway. Where I grew up there were none. Dragons, as
I understand it, have magic. There was no magic in Westland. When I came
here I . . . saw a red dragon. From what 1 heard, they're very rare."
And now there was at least one less.
Nicci was little concerned about the remains of an animal, even if it
was a dragon. Richard had long ago decided that, as much as he lusted to
crush her skull, he would have a better chance of figuring a way out of his
situation if he didn't antagonize her. Battling another person sapped your
own strength, making it more difficult to reason your way out of the
trouble. He kept his mind focused on what was most important to him.
He couldn't force himself to pretend to befriend Nicci, but he tried to
give her no cause to become angry enough to hurt Kahlan. So far, it had been
successful. Nicci didn't seem easily inclined to anger, anyway. When she
became displeased, she submerged back into an indifference which seemed to
smother her distant rancor.
They finally reached the road from where they had spotted the white
speck that had turned out to be the remains of the dragon.
"What was it like growing up in a place with no magic?"
Richard shrugged. "I don't know. That's just the way it was. It was
normal."
"And you were happy? Growing up without magic, I mean?"
"Yes. Very happy." The frown returned to his face. "Why?"
"And yet, you fight to keep magic in the world, so other children will
have to grow up with it. Am I right?"
"Yes."
"The Order wishes to rid the world of magic, so that people can grow up
happy, without the poisonous fog of magic always outside their door." She
glanced over at him. "They want children to grow up much like you did. And
yet you fight this."
It was not a question, so Richard chose not to turn it into one for
her. What the Order chose to do was not his concern. He turned his thoughts
to other things.
They were traveling east-southeast on a road traversed by the odd
trader. They had smiled and nodded at two that day. The road, as it took the
easiest route across the rolling hills, had that afternoon begun to turn
more to the south. As they crested a rise, Richard spotted a flock of sheep
in the far distance. Not far ahead, they had
been told, was a town where they could pick up some needed provisions.
The horses could use some grain, too.
Over his left shoulder, to the northeast, snowcapped mountains turning
pink in the late sunlight rose up out of the foothills. To his right, the
ground rolled off into the wilds. Beyond the town, it wouldn't be too far
until they crossed the Kern River. They were not far at all from what used
to be the wasteland where the great barrier had stood.
They were close to cutting south into the Old World.
Even though there was no longer a barrier to prevent his return once
they crossed over, he felt downhearted about leaving the New World. It was
like leaving Kahlan's world. Like leaving her by one more degree. As
fiercely as he loved her, he could feel her slipping farther and farther
into the distance.
Nicci's blond hair fluttered in the breeze as she turned toward him.
"It's said they used to have dragons in the Old World, too."
Richard brought himself out of his brooding.
"But no more?" he asked. She shook her head. "How long ago was that?"
"Long ago. No one living has ever seen one-and that includes Sisters
living at the palace."
He thought about it as he rode, listening to the rhythmic clop of
hooves. Nicci had proven forthcoming, so he asked, "Do you know why not?"
"I can only tell you what was taught to me, if you would like to hear
it." When Richard nodded, she went on. "During the great war, at the time
when the barrier between the Old and New Worlds was raised, the wizards in
the Old World worked toward revoking magic from the world. Dragons could not
exist without magic, so they went extinct."
"But they still existed here."
"On the other side of the barrier. It may be that the old wizards'
suppression of magic, on their side, had only a local, or even temporary,
effect. After all, magic still exists, so obviously they failed to achieve
their ends."
Richard was getting an uneasy feeling as he considered both Nicci's
words and the bones he had seen.
"Nicci, may I ask you a question, a serious question, about magic?"
She gazed over at him as she slowed her horse to an easy walk. "What is
it you wish to know?"
"How long do you think a dragon could exist without magic?"
Nicci considered his question for a moment, but in the end let out a
sigh. "I only know about the history of the dragons in the Old World as it
was taught. As you know, words written that long ago are not always
dependable. It would only be an educated guess. I would say it could be mere
moments, possibly days-or even longer, but not a great deal longer. It's a
much simplified version of asking how long a fish could live out of water.
Why do you ask?"
Richard raked his fingers back through his hair. "When the chimes were
here, in this world, they drew away magic. All of the magic, or nearly all,
anyway, was withdrawn from the world of life for a time."
She turned her eyes back to the road. "My estimation is that the
withdrawal was total, for a time, at least."
That was what he had feared. Richard considered her words along with
what he knew. "Not all creatures of magic depend on it. Us, for example; we
are, in a way,
creatures of magic, but we can live without it, too. I'm wondering if
creatures that depended on magic for their very existence might not have
made it through until the chimes were banished and magic was restored to the
world of life."
"Magic was not restored."
Richard pulled his horse up short. "What?"
"Not in the way you are thinking about it." Nicci circled around to
face him. "Richard, while I have no direct knowledge with precisely what
happened, such an event could not be without consequence."
"Tell me what you know."
She frowned in curiosity. "Why do you look so concerned?"
"Nicci, please, just tell me what you know?"
She folded her wrists over the horn of her saddle.
"Richard, magic is a complex matter, so there can be no certainty." She
held up a hand to forestall his cascade of questions. "This much, though, is
certain. The world doesn't stay the same. It changes continuously.
"Magic is not merely part of this world. Magic is the conduit between
worlds. Do you understand?"
He thought he might. "I accidentally used magic to call forth the
spirit of my father from the underworld. I banished him back to the
underworld with the use of magic. The Mud People, for example, use magic to
communicate with their spirit ancestors beyond the veil in the underworld. I
had to go to the Temple of the Winds, in another world, when Jagang sent a
Sister there to start a plague which she brought back from that world."
"And what do all of those things have in common?"
"They used magic to bridge the gap between worlds."
"Yes. But there is more. Those worlds exist, but they are dependent on
this one to define them, are they not?"
"You mean, like life is created into this world, and after death, souls
are taken by the Keeper to the underworld?"
"Yes. But more, do you see the connection?"
Richard was getting lost. He hadn't grown up knowing anything about
magic. "We're caught between the two realms?"
"No, not exactly." Her blue eyes flashed with intensity. She waited
until his gaze steadied on hers, then she held up a finger to mark the
importance of her words.
"Magic is a conduit between worlds. As magic diminishes, those other
worlds are not just more distant to us, but the power of those worlds, in
this world, diminishes. Do you see?"
Richard was getting goose bumps. "You mean, the other worlds have less
influence, like . . . like a child who has grown and his parents have less
influence over him. "
"Yes." In the fading light her eyes seemed more blue than usual. "As
the worlds grow more separate, it is something like a child growing and
leaving home. But there is more to it, yet."
She leaned forward ever so slightly in her saddle. "You see, those
other worlds can be said to exist only by their relationship to life-to this
world." At that moment, she seemed like nothing to him so much as what she
really was: a onehundred-and-eighty-year-old sorceress. "It might even be
said," she whispered in a voice that sounded like the shadows speaking,
"that without magic to link those other worlds to this, those other worlds
cease to exist."
Richard swallowed. "You mean, just as the child grows and leaves home,
the parents become less important to his existence. When they eventually
grow old and die, even though they were once vital and strongly linked to
him, when they now cease to exist, he lives on without them."
"Exactly," she hissed.
"The world changes," he said almost to himself. "The world doesn't stay
the same. That's what Jagang wants. He wants magic, and those other worlds,
to cease to exist so that he will have this one all for himself."
"No," she said in a soft voice. "He wishes it not for himself, but for
mankind." Richard started to argue, but she cut him off. "I know Jagang. I'm
telling you what he believes. He may enjoy the spoils, but in his heart, he
believes he is doing this for mankind, not himself."
Richard didn't really believe her, but he didn't see any point in
quarreling with her. Either way, because of the changes taking place, such
creatures as dragons might have already become extinct. Those white bones
could very well have been the remains of the last red dragon.
"Because of events like the chimes, the world may already have
irrevocably changed to a point where creatures of magic have died out," she
said as she stared out over the empty twilight. "In an evolving world such
as I describe, magic, even such as ours, would soon die out, too. Do you
see, now? Without that conduit to other worlds, worlds that may no longer
exist, magic would not come into existence when offspring of the gifted are
born."
One thing was sure: when the time came, he was going to make Nicci
extinct.
As they rode on, Richard gazed back over his shoulder at bones he could
no longer see.
--]----
It was well after dark when they rode into the town. When Richard
inquired of a passerby, he was told that the town, Ripply, was named after
the rippling foothills. It was a quiet place, off in a nearly forgotten
corner of the Midlands, its back to what used to be the wasteland from where
no one ever returned. Many of the people grew wheat and raised sheep to
provide themselves with trade goods, while keeping small animals and gardens
for themselves.
There was a road coming in from the southwest, from Renwold, and other
roads going off to the north. Ripply was a crossroads for trade between
Renwold, the people of the wilds who traded at that outpost city, and
villages to the north and east. Now, of course, Renwold was gone; the
Imperial Order had sacked the city. Now, with only ghosts inhabiting the
streets of Renwold, the people of the wilds who traded their goods there
would suffer. The people from the towns and villages who came to Ripply
would suffer, too; Ripply was falling on hard times.
Richard and Nicci created a small sensation. Strangers traveling
through had become a sporadic event, what with Renwold gone. The two of them
were tired, and there was an inn, but raucous drinking was going on there,
and Richard didn't want to have to deal with that kind of trouble. There was
a well-kept stable at the other end of town from the inn, and the man who
owned it offered to let them stay in the hayloft for a silver penny each.
The night was cold, and it would be warmer in the hayloft out of the wind,
so Richard paid the man the penny each for themselves, and three more for
the horses to be cared for and fed. The taciturn stable owner was so
pleased with the extra penny for the horses that he told Richard he
would tend their shoes while he had them.
When Richard thanked him and told him they were tired, the man smiled
for the first time and said, "I'll be seeing to your horses, then. I hope
you and your wife sleep well. Good night, then."
Richard followed Nicci up the rough wooden ladder at the back of the
barn. They had a cold dinner sitting in the hay as they listened to the
stable owner fetching grain and water for their horses. Richard and Nicci
had only the bare bones of necessary conversation before they rolled
themselves up in their cloaks and went to sleep. When they woke a little
after dawn, they discovered a small gathering of skinny children and
hollow-cheeked adults, come to see the "rich" folks traveling through.
Apparently, their horses, better than any that had boarded at the stable in
a long time, had been the source of gossip and speculation.
When Richard greeted the people, he got back only vacant looks. When he
and Nicci walked to the supply store, not far away past a few drab
buildings, the people all followed, as if it were a king and queen come to
town, and they all wanted to see what such highborn people did with their
day. Goats and chickens wandering Ripply's main street scattered before the
procession. A milk cow cropping brown grass behind the leather shop paused
for a look. A rooster atop a stump flapped his wings in annoyance.
When the bolder children asked who they were, Nicci told them that they
were only travelers, husband and wife, looking for work. Such news was
greeted with skeptical tittering. In her fine black dress, the people took
Nicci for a queen looking for a kingdom. They thought only a little less of
Richard.
When an older boy asked where they were going to look for work, as
there was little to be found in Ripply, Nicci told them that they were going
to the Old World. Some of the adults snatched up children and hurried away.
Yet more remained close on Richard and Nicci's heels.
An older man who owned the supply store gently shooed the people away
from his door when Richard went in. Once Richard had gone inside, he watched
the people grow bolder and begin pawing at Nicci, begging for money, for
medicine, for food. Nicci stayed outside with the people, asking them about
their troubles and their needs. She moved through the crowd, inspecting the
children. She had that blank look on her face that Richard didn't like.
"What can I get you," the proprietor asked.
"Ah, what about those people?" Richard asked instead.
He glanced out the sparkling-clean little window to see Nicci standing
in the middle of the ragged group, talking about the Creator's love for
them. They all listened as if she were a good spirit come to comfort them.
"Well, they're all sorts," the shop owner said. "Most wandered in from
the Old World after the barrier came down. Some are just no-good
locals-drunks and such-who'd just as soon beg or steal as work. When
strangers from the Old World came in, some of the people here joined their
ways. We get traders through here, and men like that, with goods to protect,
find they have less trouble if they're generous with that sort. Some of them
out there are folks who've had trouble-widows with children who can't find a
husband; things like that. A few of them will work for me, when I have work,
but most won't."
Richard was about to give the man a list of their needs, when Nicci
glided in the door.
"Richard, 1 need some money."
Rather than argue with her, he passed her the saddlebag with the money.
She reached in and pulled out a handful of gold and silver. The shop owner's
eyes went wide when he saw how much she had in her fist. She paid him no
heed. Richard stood slack jawed as he watched Nicci, back out with the
crowd, giving away all the money. Arms waved and reached for her. People
cried out all the louder. A few ran off with what she had given them.
Richard pulled open the saddlebag, peering in to see how much they had
left. It wasn't much. He could hardly believe what Nicci had just done. It
made no sense.
"How about some barley flour, some oatmeal, some rice, some bacon,
lentils, dried biscuits, and salt?" he asked the waiting proprietor.
"No oatmeal, but I've got the rest. How much do you want?"
Richard was running calculations through his head. They had a long
journey, and Nicci had just given away most of their money. They'd used up
the better portion of the supplies they had.
He laid six silver pennies on the counter. "Just what that will buy
us." He pulled his pack off his back and set it on the counter beside the
money.
The man scooped up the coins and sighed at the money he had almost
made. He began pulling the items down from a shelf and placing them in the
pack. As he worked, Richard requested a few other small things he remembered
as the man was going about getting the order. He parted with another penny.
Richard had only a few silver pennies, two silver crowns, and no gold
left. Nicci had handed out more money than most of those people had ever
seen in their entire lifetimes. Worried about what they were going to do for
supplies in the future, Richard slung his pack onto his back when the shop
proprietor had finished, and rushed out to see if he couldn't slow Nicci
down.
She was lecturing on the Creator's love of every man and asking the
people to forgive the cruelty of heartless and uncaring people, as she
handed the last gold coin to an unshaven man without teeth. He grinned his
thanks and then licked his parched lips. Richard knew how he would wet them.
There were yet more pleading hands thrusting toward her.
Worried, Richard seized Nicci's arm and pulled her back. She turned
toward him.
"We have to get back to the stables," she said.
"That's what I'm thinking," Richard said, holding his anger in check.
"Let's hope the stableman is done with them by now so we can get out of
here."
"No," she said with a look of grim finality in her eye. "We need to
sell the horses."
"What?" Richard blinked in angry astonishment. "May I at least ask
why?"
"To share what we have with those who have nothing."
Richard was beyond words. He just stared at her. How were they going to
travel? He considered the question briefly, and decided that he didn't
really care how soon they got to wherever it was she was taking him. But
they would have to carry everything. He was a woods guide, and used to
walking with a pack, so he guessed he could walk. He let out his breath and
turned toward the stables.
"We need to sell the horses," Richard told the stable owner.
The man frowned, looked at the horses standing in their stalls, and
then back at Richard. He looked thunderstruck.
"Those are mighty fine horses, mister. We don't have horses like this
around here."
"You do now," Nicci said.
He glanced uneasily at her. Most people were uneasy gazing at Nicci,
either because of her startling beauty, or because of her cool, often
denunciative, presence.
"I can't pay what horses like this are worth."
"We didn't ask you to," Nicci said in a dull voice. "We only asked to
sell them to you. We need to sell them. We'll take what you can give us."
The man's eyes shifted from Richard's to Nicci's and back. Richard
could tell the man was uneasy about cheating them in such a way, but he
couldn't seem to figure out how to turn down such an offer.
"All I can pay is four silver marks for the both of them."
Richard knew they were worth ten times that much.
"And the tack," Nicci said.
The man scratched his cheek. "I guess I could throw in another silver,
but that's all I got to my name. I'm sorry, I know they're worth more, but
if you're bound and determined for me to buy them off you, that's all I
got."
"Is there anyone else in town who might buy them for more?" Richard
asked.
"I don't believe so, but to tell you the truth, son, it wouldn't be
hurting my feelings if you were to go ask around. I don't like swindling
folks, and I know you couldn't call five silver marks for the horses and
tack anything else but a swindle."
The man kept glancing at Nicci, seeming to suspect that this
transaction was beyond Richard's ability to control. Her steady blue eyes
could make any man fidget.
"We accept your offer," Nicci said without any hesitation or
uncertainty. "I'm sure it's quite fair."
The man sighed unhappily at his windfall. "I don't have that much money
on me. I'll go in the house"-he lifted a thumb over his shoulder-"out back
of the barn and get it, if you'd be so good as to wait a minute."
Nicci nodded and he hurried on his way, not so much eager to consummate
the deal, Richard thought, as he was eager to be out from under Nicci's
gaze.
Richard turned to her, feeling his face heating. "What's this all
about?" He saw through the partly open stable doors that the crowd of people
who had followed them were still out there.
She ignored his question. "Get your things-whatever you can carry. As
soon as he comes back, it's time we were on our way."
Richard pulled his glare from her. He stalked over to his gear, sitting
outside Boy's stall, and began stuffing everything he could into his pack.
He strapped the waterskins around his waist and flipped the saddlebags over
his shoulders. He was sure the stable owner wouldn't complain about not
having the saddlebags with the rest of the tack. Richard thought that when
they reached a more prosperous town, he could at least sell the saddlebags.
While he worked, Nicci put her belongings into a pack she could carry.
When the man came back with the money, he offered it to Richard. Nicci
held out her hand.
"I'll take it," she said.
He glanced to Richard's eyes once and then handed Nicci the money. "I
threw in the silver pennies you paid me last night. That's all l have, I
swear."
"Thank you," Nicci said. "That was very generous of you to share what
you have. That is the Creator's way."
Without another word, Nicci turned and strode through the dimly lit
stable and out the door.
"It's my way," the man muttered under his breath to her back. "Creator
had no say in it."
Outside in the sunlight, Nicci began doling out the money she had just
gotten for the horses. The people vied for her favor as she walked among
them, speaking to them, asking questions, until she was out of sight, past
the edge of the barn door.
Richard gave Boy a quick rub on the blaze of his forehead, hoisted his
saddlebags onto his shoulder, and turned to the dumbfounded expression on
the stable owner's face. He and Richard shared a helpless look.
"I hope she's a good wife to you," the man finally said.
Richard wanted to say that Nicci was a Sister of the Dark, and that he
started right out to come here from there, she won't show up for yet another
week or two. If she
went on to see Richard first, then it will be longer, I imagine. Ann
doesn't travel all that fast, you know."
"I know," Warren said. "She is getting up there in years. But that's
just another reason why I'm so worried."
What really worried Zedd was the way the journey book went silent just
as Ann was about to reach Richard and Kahlan. Zedd had been eagerly
anticipating hearing that Richard and Kahlan were safe, that Kahlan was all
healed. Maybe even that Richard was ready to return. Ann knew how eager they
were for word and would certainly have had something to report. Zedd didn't
like the coincidence that the journey book went silent right at that time.
He didn't like it one bit.
The whole thing made him want to scratch as if he'd been bitten by a
white mosquito.
"Now look here, Warren, a month isn't so long not to hear from her. In
the past, it's sometimes been weeks and weeks between her messages. It's too
early to start getting ourselves all worked up with worry. Besides, we have
our own concerns which require our attention."
Zedd didn't know what they could do even if Ann were in trouble
somewhere. They had no idea how to find her.
Warren flashed an apologetic smile. "You're right, Zedd."
Zedd moved a map and found a half loaf of bread left from the night
before. He took a big bite, giving himself an excuse to chew instead of
talk. When he talked, he feared he only let out the true level of his worry
not just about Ann, but also about Richard and Kahlan.
Warren was an able wizard, and smarter than just about anyone Zedd had
ever met. Zedd often had trouble finding something to talk about that Warren
hadn't already heard of, or was intimately familiar with. There was
something refreshing about sharing knowledge with someone who nodded
knowingly at esoteric points of magic that no one else would fathom, someone
who could fill in little gaps in the odd spell, or delighted at having his
own little gaps filled in by what Zedd knew. Warren retained more about
prophecy than Zedd thought anyone had a right to know in the first place.
Warren was a fascinating mix of obstinate old man and callow youth. He
was at once set in his ways, and at the same time openly, infinitely,
innocently, curious.
The one thing that made Warren fall silent, though, was when they
discussed Richard's "vision." Warren's face would go blank and he would sit
without comment while others argued over what Richard had said in his
letters and if there was any validity to it. Whenever Zedd had Warren alone
and asked him what he thought, Warren would say only "I follow Richard; he
is my friend, and he is the Lord Rahl." Warren would not debate or discuss
Richard's instructions to the army-or, more specifically, Richard's refusal
to give instructions. Richard had given his orders, as far as Warren was
concerned, and they were to be swallowed, not chewed.
Zedd noticed than Warren was twisting his robes again.
Zedd waved his bread. "You look like a wizard with his pants full of
itching spells. Do you have something you need to let out, Warren?"
Warren grinned sheepishly. "Am I that obvious?"
Zedd patted the boy on the back. "No, Warren, I'm just that good."
Warren laughed at Zedd's joke. Zedd gestured with his bread toward the
folding
canvas chair. Warren looked behind himself at the chair, but shook his
head. Zedd figured it must be important, if Warren felt he needed to stand
to say it.
"Zedd, with winter upon us, do you believe the Imperial Order will
attack, or wait until spring?"
"Well, now, that's always a worry. The not knowing leaves your stomach
all in knots. But you've all worked hard. You've all trained and practiced.
You'll do just fine, Warren. The Sisters, too."
Warren didn't seem to be interested in hearing what Zedd was saying. He
was scratching his temple, waiting his turn to speak.
"Yes, well, thank you, Zedd. We have been working hard.
"Umm, General Leiden thinks winter is our best friend right now. He,
his Keltish officers, and some of the D'Harans believe that Jagang would be
foolhardy to start a campaign with winter just setting in. Kelton isn't all
that far north of here, so General Leiden is familiar with the difficulty of
winter warfare in the terrain we would fall back to. He's convinced the
Order is waiting for spring."
"General Leiden in a good man, and may be second-in-command, after
General Reibisch," Zedd said in an even voice as he watched Warren's blue
eyes, "but, I don't agree with him."
Warren looked crestfallen. "Oh."
The general had brought his Keltish division down south a couple of
months before to reinforce the D'Haran army, at General Reibisch's request.
Regarding Kahlan as their queen, since Richard had named her so, the Keltish
forces still had an independent streak, even if they were now part of the
"D'Haran Empire," as everyone had taken to calling it.
Zedd didn't do anything to discourage such talk; it was better for
everyone in the New World to be one mighty force than a collection of
tribes. As far as Zedd was concerned, Richard had clearly had the right
instincts in that. A war of this scale would have been ungovernable were the
New World not one. Having everyone think of themselves as part of the
D'Haran Empire first and foremost could only help make it so.
Zedd cleared his throat. "But that's just a guess, Warren. I could be
wrong. General Leiden is an experienced man, and no fool. I could be wrong."
"But so could Leiden be wrong. I guess that puts you with General
Reibisch. He's been pacing his tent every night for the last two months."
Zedd shrugged. "Is there something important to you, Warren, that
hinges on what the Imperial Order does? Are you waiting for them to make up
your mind for you about something?"
Warren held up his hands as if to ward the very notion. "No-no, of
course not. It's just that . . . it's just that it would be a bad time to be
thinking about such things, is all .... But if they were going to lie low
for the winter . . ." Warren fussed with his sleeve. "That's all I meant
.... If you thought they were going to wait until spring, or something . .
." His voice trailed off.
"And if they were, then-?"
Warren stared at the ground while he twisted his robes at his stomach
into a purple knot. "If you think they might decide to move this winter,
then it wouldn't be right for me-for us-to be thinking about such things."
Zedd scratched his chin and changed his approach. "Let's say I believe
the Order is going to sit tight for the winter. Then what might you do, in
that case?"
Warren threw his hands up. "Zedd will you marry Verna and me?"
Zedd's brow went up as he drew back his head. "Bags, my boy, that's a
mouthful to swallow first thing in the morning."
Warren took two big strides closer. "Will you Zedd? I mean, only if you
really think the Order is going to sit down there in Anderith for the
winter. If they are, then, well, then it would be, I mean, we might as
well-"
"Do you love Verna, Warren?"
"Of course I do!"
"And does Verna love you?"
"Well, of course she does."
Zedd shrugged. "Then I'll marry the both of you."
"You will? Oh, Zedd, that would be wonderful." Warren turned, reaching
one hand toward the tent's opening, lifting his other back toward Zedd.
"Wait. Wait there a moment."
"Well, I was about to flap my arms and fly to the moon, but if you want
me to wait-"
Warren was already out the tent. Zedd heard muffled voices coming from
outside. Warren came back in-right on Verna's heels.
Verna beamed from ear to ear, which Zedd found unsettling in its own
way, being so unusual.
"Thank you for offering to marry us, Zedd. Thank you! Warren and I
wanted you to do the ceremony. I told him you would do it, but Warren wanted
to ask you and give you a chance to say no. I can't think of anything more
meaningful than being wedded by the First Wizard."
Zedd thought she was a lovely woman. A little fussy about rules and
such, at times, but well intentioned. She worked hard. She didn't shy from
some of the things Zedd had asked of her. And, she obviously held Warren in
warm regard, as well as respecting him.
"When?" Verna asked. "When do you think would be an appropriate time?"
Zedd screwed up his face. "Do you two think you can wait until I've had
a proper breakfast?"
They both grinned.
"We were thinking more along the lines of an evening wedding," Verna
said. "Maybe we could have a party, with music and dancing."
Warren gestured nonchalantly. "We were thinking something to make a
pleasant break in all the training."
"A break? How much time do you two think you will be needing away from
your duties-"
"Oh, no, Zedd!" Warren had gone as purple as his robes. "We didn't mean
we would-I mean we would still be doing-we would only like-"
"We don't want any time away, Zedd," Verna put in, bringing Warren's
bashful babbling to an end. "We just thought it would be a nice opportunity
for everyone to have a well-earned party for an evening. We won't be leaving
our posts."
Zedd put a bony arm around Verna's shoulders. "You two can have all the
time away you want. We all understand. I'm happy for you both."
"That's great, Zedd," Warren said with a sigh. "We really-"
A red-faced officer burst into the tent without so much as announcing
himself. "Wizard Zorander!"
Two Sisters charged in right behind him.
"Prelate!" Sister Philippa called.
"They're coming!" Sister Phoebe cried.
Both women were white-faced and looked to be on the verge of losing
their breakfast. Sister Phoebe was trembling like a wet dog in winter. Zedd
then saw that Sister Philippa's hair was singed on one side and the shoulder
of her dress was blackened. She had been one of those on far watch for the
enemy gifted.
Now Zedd knew what the whistling sound he thought he'd heard was. It
was very distant screams.
Rolling up from the distance came the note of the secondary waypoint
alarm horns. Zedd felt the faint tingle of magic woven through them, so he
knew they were genuine. Outside the tent, the muted sounds of camp life rose
into a din of activity. Weapons were being yanked from where they were
stacked, fires hissed as they were dowsed, swords were being strapped on,
others were being drawn, horses whinnied at the sudden racket.
Warren seized Sister Philippa's arm and started issuing orders. "Get
the line coordinated. Don't let them be seen-keep behind the third ridge.
Set the trips close-we need to give the enemy confidence. Cavalry?"
The woman nodded.
"Coming in two wings," the officer put in. "But they aren't charging
yet-they don't want to get out too far ahead of their foot soldiers."
"Start the first fire behind them-once they're past the blast point
just like
we've drilled," Warren told Sister Philippa as she nodded heedfully to
his instructions. The intention was to trap any cavalry charge between walls
of violent magic. It had to be focused properly to have any hope of piercing
the enemy's shields.
"Prelate," Sister Phoebe said, still panting, "you can't imagine the
numbers. Dear Creator, it looks like the ground is moving, like the hills
are melting men toward us."
Verna put a comforting hand to the young Sister's shoulder. "I know,
Phoebe. I know. But we all know what to do."
Verna was already ushering the two Sisters out and calling for her
other aides, as yet more officers and returning scouts leaped from horses.
A big, bearded soldier, sweat running down his face, barged into the
tent gasping for his breath.
"The whole blasted force. All of 'em."
"Cavalry with lances-enough to break their way and then some," another
man shouted into the tent from atop a lathered horse, pausing only long
enough to deliver the news to Zedd before charging off.
"Archers?" Zedd asked the two soldiers still in his tent.
The officer with the beard shook his head. "Too far to tell." He gulped
air. "But I'd bet my life they're right behind the pikemen's shields."
"No doubt," Zedd said. "When they get close enough, they'll show
themselves."
Warren grabbed the bearded officer's sleeve and pulled him along behind
as he trotted out of the tent. "Don't worry, when they show themselves we'll
have something to put out their eyes."
The other man ran on to his duties. In an instant, Zedd was standing
alone in his tent, lit from the outside by early-morning winter sun. It was
a cold dawn. It would be a bloody day.
Outside the tent, the racket exploded into the uproar of practiced
pandemonium. Everyone had a job, and knew it well; these were mostly
battle-tested D'Harans. Zedd had snuck close and had seen how fearsome the
Imperial Order troops looked,
but the D'Harans were their match in gristle. For generations, D'Harans
prided themselves on being the fiercest fighters in existence. For a good
part of his life, Zedd had battled D'Harans who had proven their boasts
true.
Zedd could heir someone shouting, "Move, move, move." It sounded like
General Reibisch. Zedd dashed to the tent's opening, pausing at the brink of
a river of men flowing past in a great churning mass.
General Reibisch skidded to a halt just outside the tent.
"Zedd-we were right."
Zedd nodded his disappointment to have surmised the enemy's plans. This
was one time he wished he'd been wrong.
"We're breaking camp," General Reibisch said. "We've not much time.
I've already ordered the advance guard to shift their positions north to
cover the supply wagons."
"Is it all of them-or just a jab to test us?"
"It's the whole bloody lot."
"Dear spirits," Zedd whispered. At least he had made what plans for
this eventuality as could be made. He had trained the gifted to expect this
so they wouldn't be thrown off balance. It would come just as Zedd told them
it would; that would aid their confidence and give them courage. The day
hinged on the gifted.
General Reibisch swiped his meaty hand across his mouth and jaw as he
looked to the south, toward an enemy he couldn't yet see. The early sun made
his rustcolored hair look red, and the scar that ran from his left temple to
his jaw stand out like a streak of frozen white lightning.
"Our sentries pulled back along with the outer lines. No use in them
standing ground, since it's the whole Imperial Order."
Zedd quickly nodded his agreement. "We'll be the magic against magic
for you, General."
The man had a lusty glint in his grayish-green eye. "We're the steel
for you, Zedd. We'll show them bastards a lot of both today."
"Just don't show them too much, too soon," Zedd warned.
"I'm not about to change our plans now," he said over the sound of the
tumult.
"Good." Zedd snatched the arm of a soldier running past. "You. I need
your help. Pack up my things in there for me, would you, lad? I need to get
to the Sisters."
General Reibisch gestured the young soldier into Zedd's tent, and the
young man leaped to the task.
"The scouts said they're all staying on this side of the Drun River,
just as we hoped."
"Good. We won't have to worry about them flanking us, at least not from
the west." Zedd swept his gaze over the dissolving camp as the men swiftly
set about their jobs. He looked back to the general's weathered face. "Just
get our men north into those valleys in time, General, so that we can't be
surrounded. The gifted will cover your tails."
"We'll plug up the valleys, don't you worry."
"The river isn't frozen over, yet, is it?"
General Reibisch shook his head. "Maybe enough for a rat to skate on,
but not the wolf that's after him."
"That should keep them from crossing." Zedd squinted off to the south.
"I have to go check on Adie and her Sisters. May the good spirits be with
you, General. They won't need to watch your back-we'll do that."
General Reibisch caught Zedd's arm. "There's more than we thought,
Zedd. Twice the number at least. If my scouts weren't just stuttering, there
may be three times the number. Think you can slow that many down while
keeping them focused on trying to sink their teeth into my backside?"
The plan was to draw the enemy north while staying just out of their
reach--close enough to make them salivate but not close enough to let them
get a good bite. Crossing the river at this time of year would be
impractical for an army that size. With the river on one side, and mountains
on the other, a force the size of the Imperial Order couldn't so easily
surround and overwhelm the "D'Haran Empire" troops, who were outnumbered ten
or twenty to one.
The plan, too, was designed to keep in mind Richard's admonition about
not attacking directly into the Order. Zedd wasn't sure about the validity
of Richard's warning, but knew better than to so openly tempt ruin.
Hopefully, once they enticed the enemy into that tighter terrain,
terrain more defensible, the Order would lose some of their advantage and
their advance could be halted. Once the Imperial Order was stalled, the
D'Harans could begin working the enemy down to size. The D'Harans thought
nothing of being outnumbered; it just gave them a better opportunity to
prove themselves.
Zedd stared off, imagining the hillsides darkened with the enemy
pouring forth. He was already seeing the lethal powers he would unleash.
He knew, too, that in battle things rarely went as planned.
"Don't you worry, General, today the Imperial Order is going to begin
paying a terrible price for its aggression."
The grinning general clapped Zedd on the side of the shoulder. "Good
man."
General Reibisch charged off, calling for his aides and his horse,
collecting a growing crowd of men around him as he went.
It had begun.
Arms resting on his thighs, Richard crouched in the belly of the beast.
"Well?" Nicci asked from atop her horse.
Richard stood beside a rib bone that towered to well over twice his
height. He shielded his eyes against the golden sunlight as he briefly
scanned the empty horizon behind himself. He looked back at Nicci, her hair
honeyed by the low sun.
"I'd say it was a dragon."
When her mare began to dance sideways, trying to put distance between
itself and the expanse of bones, Nicci took the slack out of the reins.
"Dragon," she repeated in a flat voice.
Here and there dried scraps of meat stuck to the bones. Richard swished
a hand at the cloud of flies buzzing around him. The faint stench of decay
hung over the site. As he stepped out of the cage of giant rib bones
standing belly-up, he gestured toward the head, nestled in a bed of brown
grass. There was enough room to walk between the ribs without them touching
his shoulders.
"I recognize the teeth. I had a dragon's tooth, once."
Nicci looked skeptical. "Well, whatever it is, if you've seen enough,
let's be on our way."
Richard brushed his hands clean. The stallion snorted and stepped away
from him when he approached. The horse didn't like the smell of death, and
didn't trust Richard after having been near it. Richard stroked the glossy
black neck.
"Steady, Boy," he said in a comforting voice. "Easy now."
When she saw Richard finally mount up, Nicci turned her dappled mare
and started off once more. The late-afternoon light cast long, clawed
shadows of the rib bones toward him, as if reaching out, calling him back to
the ghost of some terrible end. He glanced back over his shoulder at the
length of the skeletal remains, stretched out in the middle of an empty,
gently rolling grassland, before urging his stallion into a trot to catch up
with Nicci. His horse needed little encouragement to be away from the dying
place, and happily sprang into his easy loping gallop, instead.
In the month or so Richard had spent with the horse, the two of them
had become used to each other. The horse was willing enough, but never
really friendly. Richard wasn't interested enough to go to the effort of
doing more; making friends with a horse was just about the last of his
concerns. Nicci hadn't known if the horses had names, and didn't. seem
interested in naming animals, so Richard simply called the black stallion
"Boy," and Nicci's dappled gray mare "Girl," and left it at that. Nicci
seemed neither pleased or displeased about him naming the horses; she simply
went along with his convention.
"Do you actually believe it's the remains of a dragon?" Nicci asked
when he caught up with her.
The stallion slowed and, glad to be back in the herd, gave the mare's
flanks a nuzzle. Girl merely turned her closest ear toward him in
recognition.
"It's about the right size, as I remember."
Nicci tossed her head to flick her hair back over her shoulder. "You're
serious, aren't you?"
Richard frowned his puzzlement. "You saw it. What else could it
possibly be?"
She conceded with a sigh. "I just thought it was the bones of some
long-extinct beast."
"With flies still buzzing around it? It still had a few bits of sinew
dried to the bones. It's not some ancient thing. It couldn't be much older
than six monthspossibly much less."
She was watching him from the corner of her eye, again. "So, they
really do have dragons in the New World?"
"In the Midlands, anyway. Where I grew up there were none. Dragons, as
I understand it, have magic. There was no magic in Westland. When I came
here I . . . saw a red dragon. From what 1 heard, they're very rare."
And now there was at least one less.
Nicci was little concerned about the remains of an animal, even if it
was a dragon. Richard had long ago decided that, as much as he lusted to
crush her skull, he would have a better chance of figuring a way out of his
situation if he didn't antagonize her. Battling another person sapped your
own strength, making it more difficult to reason your way out of the
trouble. He kept his mind focused on what was most important to him.
He couldn't force himself to pretend to befriend Nicci, but he tried to
give her no cause to become angry enough to hurt Kahlan. So far, it had been
successful. Nicci didn't seem easily inclined to anger, anyway. When she
became displeased, she submerged back into an indifference which seemed to
smother her distant rancor.
They finally reached the road from where they had spotted the white
speck that had turned out to be the remains of the dragon.
"What was it like growing up in a place with no magic?"
Richard shrugged. "I don't know. That's just the way it was. It was
normal."
"And you were happy? Growing up without magic, I mean?"
"Yes. Very happy." The frown returned to his face. "Why?"
"And yet, you fight to keep magic in the world, so other children will
have to grow up with it. Am I right?"
"Yes."
"The Order wishes to rid the world of magic, so that people can grow up
happy, without the poisonous fog of magic always outside their door." She
glanced over at him. "They want children to grow up much like you did. And
yet you fight this."
It was not a question, so Richard chose not to turn it into one for
her. What the Order chose to do was not his concern. He turned his thoughts
to other things.
They were traveling east-southeast on a road traversed by the odd
trader. They had smiled and nodded at two that day. The road, as it took the
easiest route across the rolling hills, had that afternoon begun to turn
more to the south. As they crested a rise, Richard spotted a flock of sheep
in the far distance. Not far ahead, they had
been told, was a town where they could pick up some needed provisions.
The horses could use some grain, too.
Over his left shoulder, to the northeast, snowcapped mountains turning
pink in the late sunlight rose up out of the foothills. To his right, the
ground rolled off into the wilds. Beyond the town, it wouldn't be too far
until they crossed the Kern River. They were not far at all from what used
to be the wasteland where the great barrier had stood.
They were close to cutting south into the Old World.
Even though there was no longer a barrier to prevent his return once
they crossed over, he felt downhearted about leaving the New World. It was
like leaving Kahlan's world. Like leaving her by one more degree. As
fiercely as he loved her, he could feel her slipping farther and farther
into the distance.
Nicci's blond hair fluttered in the breeze as she turned toward him.
"It's said they used to have dragons in the Old World, too."
Richard brought himself out of his brooding.
"But no more?" he asked. She shook her head. "How long ago was that?"
"Long ago. No one living has ever seen one-and that includes Sisters
living at the palace."
He thought about it as he rode, listening to the rhythmic clop of
hooves. Nicci had proven forthcoming, so he asked, "Do you know why not?"
"I can only tell you what was taught to me, if you would like to hear
it." When Richard nodded, she went on. "During the great war, at the time
when the barrier between the Old and New Worlds was raised, the wizards in
the Old World worked toward revoking magic from the world. Dragons could not
exist without magic, so they went extinct."
"But they still existed here."
"On the other side of the barrier. It may be that the old wizards'
suppression of magic, on their side, had only a local, or even temporary,
effect. After all, magic still exists, so obviously they failed to achieve
their ends."
Richard was getting an uneasy feeling as he considered both Nicci's
words and the bones he had seen.
"Nicci, may I ask you a question, a serious question, about magic?"
She gazed over at him as she slowed her horse to an easy walk. "What is
it you wish to know?"
"How long do you think a dragon could exist without magic?"
Nicci considered his question for a moment, but in the end let out a
sigh. "I only know about the history of the dragons in the Old World as it
was taught. As you know, words written that long ago are not always
dependable. It would only be an educated guess. I would say it could be mere
moments, possibly days-or even longer, but not a great deal longer. It's a
much simplified version of asking how long a fish could live out of water.
Why do you ask?"
Richard raked his fingers back through his hair. "When the chimes were
here, in this world, they drew away magic. All of the magic, or nearly all,
anyway, was withdrawn from the world of life for a time."
She turned her eyes back to the road. "My estimation is that the
withdrawal was total, for a time, at least."
That was what he had feared. Richard considered her words along with
what he knew. "Not all creatures of magic depend on it. Us, for example; we
are, in a way,
creatures of magic, but we can live without it, too. I'm wondering if
creatures that depended on magic for their very existence might not have
made it through until the chimes were banished and magic was restored to the
world of life."
"Magic was not restored."
Richard pulled his horse up short. "What?"
"Not in the way you are thinking about it." Nicci circled around to
face him. "Richard, while I have no direct knowledge with precisely what
happened, such an event could not be without consequence."
"Tell me what you know."
She frowned in curiosity. "Why do you look so concerned?"
"Nicci, please, just tell me what you know?"
She folded her wrists over the horn of her saddle.
"Richard, magic is a complex matter, so there can be no certainty." She
held up a hand to forestall his cascade of questions. "This much, though, is
certain. The world doesn't stay the same. It changes continuously.
"Magic is not merely part of this world. Magic is the conduit between
worlds. Do you understand?"
He thought he might. "I accidentally used magic to call forth the
spirit of my father from the underworld. I banished him back to the
underworld with the use of magic. The Mud People, for example, use magic to
communicate with their spirit ancestors beyond the veil in the underworld. I
had to go to the Temple of the Winds, in another world, when Jagang sent a
Sister there to start a plague which she brought back from that world."
"And what do all of those things have in common?"
"They used magic to bridge the gap between worlds."
"Yes. But there is more. Those worlds exist, but they are dependent on
this one to define them, are they not?"
"You mean, like life is created into this world, and after death, souls
are taken by the Keeper to the underworld?"
"Yes. But more, do you see the connection?"
Richard was getting lost. He hadn't grown up knowing anything about
magic. "We're caught between the two realms?"
"No, not exactly." Her blue eyes flashed with intensity. She waited
until his gaze steadied on hers, then she held up a finger to mark the
importance of her words.
"Magic is a conduit between worlds. As magic diminishes, those other
worlds are not just more distant to us, but the power of those worlds, in
this world, diminishes. Do you see?"
Richard was getting goose bumps. "You mean, the other worlds have less
influence, like . . . like a child who has grown and his parents have less
influence over him. "
"Yes." In the fading light her eyes seemed more blue than usual. "As
the worlds grow more separate, it is something like a child growing and
leaving home. But there is more to it, yet."
She leaned forward ever so slightly in her saddle. "You see, those
other worlds can be said to exist only by their relationship to life-to this
world." At that moment, she seemed like nothing to him so much as what she
really was: a onehundred-and-eighty-year-old sorceress. "It might even be
said," she whispered in a voice that sounded like the shadows speaking,
"that without magic to link those other worlds to this, those other worlds
cease to exist."
Richard swallowed. "You mean, just as the child grows and leaves home,
the parents become less important to his existence. When they eventually
grow old and die, even though they were once vital and strongly linked to
him, when they now cease to exist, he lives on without them."
"Exactly," she hissed.
"The world changes," he said almost to himself. "The world doesn't stay
the same. That's what Jagang wants. He wants magic, and those other worlds,
to cease to exist so that he will have this one all for himself."
"No," she said in a soft voice. "He wishes it not for himself, but for
mankind." Richard started to argue, but she cut him off. "I know Jagang. I'm
telling you what he believes. He may enjoy the spoils, but in his heart, he
believes he is doing this for mankind, not himself."
Richard didn't really believe her, but he didn't see any point in
quarreling with her. Either way, because of the changes taking place, such
creatures as dragons might have already become extinct. Those white bones
could very well have been the remains of the last red dragon.
"Because of events like the chimes, the world may already have
irrevocably changed to a point where creatures of magic have died out," she
said as she stared out over the empty twilight. "In an evolving world such
as I describe, magic, even such as ours, would soon die out, too. Do you
see, now? Without that conduit to other worlds, worlds that may no longer
exist, magic would not come into existence when offspring of the gifted are
born."
One thing was sure: when the time came, he was going to make Nicci
extinct.
As they rode on, Richard gazed back over his shoulder at bones he could
no longer see.
--]----
It was well after dark when they rode into the town. When Richard
inquired of a passerby, he was told that the town, Ripply, was named after
the rippling foothills. It was a quiet place, off in a nearly forgotten
corner of the Midlands, its back to what used to be the wasteland from where
no one ever returned. Many of the people grew wheat and raised sheep to
provide themselves with trade goods, while keeping small animals and gardens
for themselves.
There was a road coming in from the southwest, from Renwold, and other
roads going off to the north. Ripply was a crossroads for trade between
Renwold, the people of the wilds who traded at that outpost city, and
villages to the north and east. Now, of course, Renwold was gone; the
Imperial Order had sacked the city. Now, with only ghosts inhabiting the
streets of Renwold, the people of the wilds who traded their goods there
would suffer. The people from the towns and villages who came to Ripply
would suffer, too; Ripply was falling on hard times.
Richard and Nicci created a small sensation. Strangers traveling
through had become a sporadic event, what with Renwold gone. The two of them
were tired, and there was an inn, but raucous drinking was going on there,
and Richard didn't want to have to deal with that kind of trouble. There was
a well-kept stable at the other end of town from the inn, and the man who
owned it offered to let them stay in the hayloft for a silver penny each.
The night was cold, and it would be warmer in the hayloft out of the wind,
so Richard paid the man the penny each for themselves, and three more for
the horses to be cared for and fed. The taciturn stable owner was so
pleased with the extra penny for the horses that he told Richard he
would tend their shoes while he had them.
When Richard thanked him and told him they were tired, the man smiled
for the first time and said, "I'll be seeing to your horses, then. I hope
you and your wife sleep well. Good night, then."
Richard followed Nicci up the rough wooden ladder at the back of the
barn. They had a cold dinner sitting in the hay as they listened to the
stable owner fetching grain and water for their horses. Richard and Nicci
had only the bare bones of necessary conversation before they rolled
themselves up in their cloaks and went to sleep. When they woke a little
after dawn, they discovered a small gathering of skinny children and
hollow-cheeked adults, come to see the "rich" folks traveling through.
Apparently, their horses, better than any that had boarded at the stable in
a long time, had been the source of gossip and speculation.
When Richard greeted the people, he got back only vacant looks. When he
and Nicci walked to the supply store, not far away past a few drab
buildings, the people all followed, as if it were a king and queen come to
town, and they all wanted to see what such highborn people did with their
day. Goats and chickens wandering Ripply's main street scattered before the
procession. A milk cow cropping brown grass behind the leather shop paused
for a look. A rooster atop a stump flapped his wings in annoyance.
When the bolder children asked who they were, Nicci told them that they
were only travelers, husband and wife, looking for work. Such news was
greeted with skeptical tittering. In her fine black dress, the people took
Nicci for a queen looking for a kingdom. They thought only a little less of
Richard.
When an older boy asked where they were going to look for work, as
there was little to be found in Ripply, Nicci told them that they were going
to the Old World. Some of the adults snatched up children and hurried away.
Yet more remained close on Richard and Nicci's heels.
An older man who owned the supply store gently shooed the people away
from his door when Richard went in. Once Richard had gone inside, he watched
the people grow bolder and begin pawing at Nicci, begging for money, for
medicine, for food. Nicci stayed outside with the people, asking them about
their troubles and their needs. She moved through the crowd, inspecting the
children. She had that blank look on her face that Richard didn't like.
"What can I get you," the proprietor asked.
"Ah, what about those people?" Richard asked instead.
He glanced out the sparkling-clean little window to see Nicci standing
in the middle of the ragged group, talking about the Creator's love for
them. They all listened as if she were a good spirit come to comfort them.
"Well, they're all sorts," the shop owner said. "Most wandered in from
the Old World after the barrier came down. Some are just no-good
locals-drunks and such-who'd just as soon beg or steal as work. When
strangers from the Old World came in, some of the people here joined their
ways. We get traders through here, and men like that, with goods to protect,
find they have less trouble if they're generous with that sort. Some of them
out there are folks who've had trouble-widows with children who can't find a
husband; things like that. A few of them will work for me, when I have work,
but most won't."
Richard was about to give the man a list of their needs, when Nicci
glided in the door.
"Richard, 1 need some money."
Rather than argue with her, he passed her the saddlebag with the money.
She reached in and pulled out a handful of gold and silver. The shop owner's
eyes went wide when he saw how much she had in her fist. She paid him no
heed. Richard stood slack jawed as he watched Nicci, back out with the
crowd, giving away all the money. Arms waved and reached for her. People
cried out all the louder. A few ran off with what she had given them.
Richard pulled open the saddlebag, peering in to see how much they had
left. It wasn't much. He could hardly believe what Nicci had just done. It
made no sense.
"How about some barley flour, some oatmeal, some rice, some bacon,
lentils, dried biscuits, and salt?" he asked the waiting proprietor.
"No oatmeal, but I've got the rest. How much do you want?"
Richard was running calculations through his head. They had a long
journey, and Nicci had just given away most of their money. They'd used up
the better portion of the supplies they had.
He laid six silver pennies on the counter. "Just what that will buy
us." He pulled his pack off his back and set it on the counter beside the
money.
The man scooped up the coins and sighed at the money he had almost
made. He began pulling the items down from a shelf and placing them in the
pack. As he worked, Richard requested a few other small things he remembered
as the man was going about getting the order. He parted with another penny.
Richard had only a few silver pennies, two silver crowns, and no gold
left. Nicci had handed out more money than most of those people had ever
seen in their entire lifetimes. Worried about what they were going to do for
supplies in the future, Richard slung his pack onto his back when the shop
proprietor had finished, and rushed out to see if he couldn't slow Nicci
down.
She was lecturing on the Creator's love of every man and asking the
people to forgive the cruelty of heartless and uncaring people, as she
handed the last gold coin to an unshaven man without teeth. He grinned his
thanks and then licked his parched lips. Richard knew how he would wet them.
There were yet more pleading hands thrusting toward her.
Worried, Richard seized Nicci's arm and pulled her back. She turned
toward him.
"We have to get back to the stables," she said.
"That's what I'm thinking," Richard said, holding his anger in check.
"Let's hope the stableman is done with them by now so we can get out of
here."
"No," she said with a look of grim finality in her eye. "We need to
sell the horses."
"What?" Richard blinked in angry astonishment. "May I at least ask
why?"
"To share what we have with those who have nothing."
Richard was beyond words. He just stared at her. How were they going to
travel? He considered the question briefly, and decided that he didn't
really care how soon they got to wherever it was she was taking him. But
they would have to carry everything. He was a woods guide, and used to
walking with a pack, so he guessed he could walk. He let out his breath and
turned toward the stables.
"We need to sell the horses," Richard told the stable owner.
The man frowned, looked at the horses standing in their stalls, and
then back at Richard. He looked thunderstruck.
"Those are mighty fine horses, mister. We don't have horses like this
around here."
"You do now," Nicci said.
He glanced uneasily at her. Most people were uneasy gazing at Nicci,
either because of her startling beauty, or because of her cool, often
denunciative, presence.
"I can't pay what horses like this are worth."
"We didn't ask you to," Nicci said in a dull voice. "We only asked to
sell them to you. We need to sell them. We'll take what you can give us."
The man's eyes shifted from Richard's to Nicci's and back. Richard
could tell the man was uneasy about cheating them in such a way, but he
couldn't seem to figure out how to turn down such an offer.
"All I can pay is four silver marks for the both of them."
Richard knew they were worth ten times that much.
"And the tack," Nicci said.
The man scratched his cheek. "I guess I could throw in another silver,
but that's all I got to my name. I'm sorry, I know they're worth more, but
if you're bound and determined for me to buy them off you, that's all I
got."
"Is there anyone else in town who might buy them for more?" Richard
asked.
"I don't believe so, but to tell you the truth, son, it wouldn't be
hurting my feelings if you were to go ask around. I don't like swindling
folks, and I know you couldn't call five silver marks for the horses and
tack anything else but a swindle."
The man kept glancing at Nicci, seeming to suspect that this
transaction was beyond Richard's ability to control. Her steady blue eyes
could make any man fidget.
"We accept your offer," Nicci said without any hesitation or
uncertainty. "I'm sure it's quite fair."
The man sighed unhappily at his windfall. "I don't have that much money
on me. I'll go in the house"-he lifted a thumb over his shoulder-"out back
of the barn and get it, if you'd be so good as to wait a minute."
Nicci nodded and he hurried on his way, not so much eager to consummate
the deal, Richard thought, as he was eager to be out from under Nicci's
gaze.
Richard turned to her, feeling his face heating. "What's this all
about?" He saw through the partly open stable doors that the crowd of people
who had followed them were still out there.
She ignored his question. "Get your things-whatever you can carry. As
soon as he comes back, it's time we were on our way."
Richard pulled his glare from her. He stalked over to his gear, sitting
outside Boy's stall, and began stuffing everything he could into his pack.
He strapped the waterskins around his waist and flipped the saddlebags over
his shoulders. He was sure the stable owner wouldn't complain about not
having the saddlebags with the rest of the tack. Richard thought that when
they reached a more prosperous town, he could at least sell the saddlebags.
While he worked, Nicci put her belongings into a pack she could carry.
When the man came back with the money, he offered it to Richard. Nicci
held out her hand.
"I'll take it," she said.
He glanced to Richard's eyes once and then handed Nicci the money. "I
threw in the silver pennies you paid me last night. That's all l have, I
swear."
"Thank you," Nicci said. "That was very generous of you to share what
you have. That is the Creator's way."
Without another word, Nicci turned and strode through the dimly lit
stable and out the door.
"It's my way," the man muttered under his breath to her back. "Creator
had no say in it."
Outside in the sunlight, Nicci began doling out the money she had just
gotten for the horses. The people vied for her favor as she walked among
them, speaking to them, asking questions, until she was out of sight, past
the edge of the barn door.
Richard gave Boy a quick rub on the blaze of his forehead, hoisted his
saddlebags onto his shoulder, and turned to the dumbfounded expression on
the stable owner's face. He and Richard shared a helpless look.
"I hope she's a good wife to you," the man finally said.
Richard wanted to say that Nicci was a Sister of the Dark, and that he