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another."
Kahlan pulled angry breaths through gritted teeth. "How much blood, how
many corpses, how much grief will it take before you see the harm prophecy
has inflicted upon the world?"
Warren smiled sadly. "I am a prophet. I've always wanted to be a
prophet in order to help people. I wouldn't put my faith in it if I truly
thought it was the cause of harm." He smiled more brightly with a memory.
"Don't forget, without prophecy, you would never have come to meet Richard.
Aren't you better off having had him come into your life? I know I am."
Kahlan's look of cold fury took the warm smile from his face.
"I-would rather have been condemned to a lonely life without love, than
to know
that harm has come to him because he came into my life. I would rather
never have met him, than to have come to know his value, and know that that
value is being dashed on the rocks of this mad faith in prophecy."
Warren stuck his hands in the opposite sleeves of his purple robes as
his gaze sank to the ground. "I understand how you can feel that way.
Please, Kahlan, talk to Verna."
"Why? She's the one who carried out Ann's orders."
"Just talk to her. I almost lost Verna because she felt the same way as
you do now."
"Verna?"
Warren nodded. "She came to believe she had been used maliciously by
Ann. For twenty years she was on a fruitless search for Richard, when all
the while Ann knew right where he was. Can you imagine how Verna felt when
she discovered that? There were other things, too. Ann tricked us into
believing she was dead. She maneuvered Verna into being Prelate." Warren
pulled a hand from his sleeve and held his first finger and thumb an inch
apart. "She was once this close to throwing her journey book into a fire."
"She should have."
Warren's sad smile returned. "I'm just saying it might make you feel
better to talk to her. She will understand how you feel."
"What good is that going to do?"
Warren shrugged. "Even if you're right, so what? What's done is done.
We can't undo it. Nicci has Richard. The Imperial Order is here in the New
World. Whatever caused the events, they are upon us and we must now deal
with that reality."
Kahlan appraised his sparkling blue eyes. "You learned this studying
prophecy?"
His smile widened into a grin. "No. That was what Richard taught me.
And, a pretty smart woman I know just told me not to start down the path of
what-mighthave-been."
As much as she was of a mind to hold on to it, Kahlan felt her anger
slipping away. "I'm not so sure how smart she is."
Warren waved down at the troops charging up the hill with their swords
drawn, signaling the allclear. The men slowed to a fast walk, but didn't
sheathe their weapons.
"Well," Warren said, "she was smart enough to figure out Jagang's plan,
and in the middle of being attacked by his gifted minion to keep her wits
about her and to trick him into thinking she had fallen for his scheme."
Kahlan drew her face into a peevish scowl. "How old are you, Warren?"
He looked surprised by the question. "I turned one hundred fifty-eight
not long ago."
"That explains it," Cara griped, starting off down the hill. "Stop
looking so young and innocent all the time, Warren. It's just plain
irritating."
--]----
By the time Kahlan, Cara, Warren, and their escort of guard troops
arrived back in camp several hours later, it was a scene of furious
activity. Wagons were being loaded, horses hitched, and weapons readied.
Tents were not yet being taken down, but soldiers in their leather and
chain-mail armor, and still eating the remnants of their dinners, were
gathered around officers, listening to instructions for when the
order was given to send a force out to intercept the enemy moving
north. Other officers in tents Kahlan passed were bent over maps.
The aroma of stew drifting through the afternoon air reminded her how
hungry she was. Winter darkness came early, and the overcast made it feel
like it was already evening. The endless cloudy days were getting to be
depressing. There was little chance to see much of the sun; soon, heavier
snow would make it down this far south.
Kahlan dismounted and let a young soldier take her horse. She no longer
rode a big warhorse. She, and most of the cavalry, had switched to smaller,
more agile mounts. For a clash between large units, big warhorses added
weight to a charge, but since the D'Haran Empire forces were so outnumbered,
they had decided it would be best to trade weight far speed and
maneuverability.
By changing tactics in such a way, not just with the cavalry but with
their entire army, Kahlan and General Meiffert had been able to keep the
Order off balance for weeks. They let the enemy put a huge effort into a
crushing attack, and then dodged it just enough to save themselves while
letting the Order, being tantalizingly close, wear themselves out. When the
Order tired from the effort of such massive attacks and paused to rest,
General Meiffert sent in glancing attacks to step on their toes and make
them dance. Once the Order dug in for the expected attack, Kahlan withdrew
their forces to a more distant spot, rendering useless the Order's effort at
building defenses.
If the Order tried the same thing again, the D'Harans continued to
harry them day and night, buzzing around them like angry hornets, but
staying out of reach of a heavy swat. If the Imperial Order tired of not
being able to sink their teeth into their enemy, and turned their forces to
go after population centers, then Kahlan had her men jump on their tails and
put arrows in their backs as they struggled to get free. Eventually, they
would have to forget their thoughts of plunder and turn back toward the
threat.
The Imperial Order was maddened by the D'Harans' constant badgering
tactics. Jagang's men were insulted by that kind of fighting; they believed
real men met face-to-face in the field of battle, and exchanged blow for
blow. Of course, it didn't trouble their dignity that they greatly
outnumbered the D'Harans. Kahlan knew such a meeting would be bloody and
only to the Order's advantage. She didn't care what they thought, only that
they died.
The more angry and frustrating the Imperial Order became, the more
recklessly they behaved, launching impetuous attacks into well-ordered
defenses, or heedlessly pressing men into doomed attacks trying to take
ground they couldn't possibly take in such a fashion. It sometimes stunned
Kahlan to watch so many of the enemy march into range below their archers,
fall dead, only to have yet more men march right in behind them,
continuously adding corpses to a battlefield already choked with the dead
and dying. It was insanity.
The D'Harans had suffered several thousand dead or seriously wounded.
On the other hand, Kahlan and General Meiffert estimated that they had
killed or wounded in excess of fifty thousand of the enemy. It was the
equivalent of stepping on one ant as the colony poured out of its anthill.
She could think of nothing else to do but to keep at it. They had no choice.
Kahlan, with Cara at her side, crossed a river of men to get to the
command tents sporting blue cloth strips. Unless you knew the day's color
code, finding the command tents would be nearly impossible. Because of the
fear of an infiltrator or an
enemy gifted finding and being able to kill a group of senior officers
gathered together, they met in nondescript tents. Colored cloth strips
marked many of the tents-the men used them as as system of finding their
units when they had to move on short notice and so often-so Kahlan got the
idea of using the same system to identify the command tents. They changed
the color code often so no one color would become known as the officers'
colors.
Inside the cramped tent, General Meiffert looked up from where he bent
over a table with a map unfurled at a cockeyed angle. Lieutenant Leiden, of
Kelton, was there along with Captain Abernathy, the commander of the Galean
forces Kahlan had brought down with her weeks before.
Adie was sitting quietly in the corner, as the representative of the
gifted, watching the goings-on with her completely white eyes. Blinded as a
young woman, Adie had learned to see using her gift. She was a remarkably
talented sorceress. Adie was quite proficient at using that talent to do the
enemy harm. Now she was there to help coordinate the Sister's abilities with
the needs of the army.
When Kahlan inquired, Adie told her, "Zedd be down at the southern
lines, checking on details."
Kahlan nodded her thanks. "Warren went down there to help, too."
Kahlan scrunched up her freezing toes in her boots, trying to bring
feeling back to them. She blew warm air into her cupped hands and then
turned her attention to the waiting general.
"We need to get together a good-sized force-maybe twenty thousand men."
General Meiffert sighed his frustration. "So they are moving an army up
past us."
"No," she said. "It's a trick."
The three officers frowned their puzzlement as they waited for an
explanation.
"I ran into Jagang-"
"You what!" General Meiffert shouted in unbridled panic.
Kahlan waved a hand, allaying his fears. "Not like you're thinking. It
was through the body of one of his slaves." She stuck her hands under her
arms to warm them. "The important thing is that I played along with Jagang's
scheme so that he would think we were falling for his plan."
Kahlan explained how Jagang's ruse of troop movements was meant to work
and how its true design was to draw away a good-sized force so as to leave
those remaining behind weaker. The men listened as she laid it all out while
pointing to the locations on the map.
"If we were to send that many men out," Lieutenant Leiden asked,
"wouldn't that be just what Emperor Jagang wanted?"
"It would be," she told him, "but that's not what we're going to do. I
want those men to ride out of camp, to make it look as if we were doing what
he expected."
She leaned over the map, using a piece of charcoal to sketch in some of
the nearby mountains she had just traveled through, and showed .them a
lowland pass around several.
Captain Abernathy spoke up. "We have my Galean troops-they're close to
the number you need to serve as the decoy."
"That's what I was thinking," General Meiffert said.
"Done," Kahlan said. She pointed at the map again. "Circle around these
mountains, here, Captain, so that when the Order attacks our camp, thinking
to roll over us, your men can stick them in their soft side, right here,
where they won't expect it."
Captain Abernathy, a trim man with a graying bushy mustache that
matched his
eyebrows, nodded as he watched Kahlan pointing out the route on the
map. "Don't worry, Mother Confessor, the Order will believe we're gone, but
we'll be standing ready to drive right into their ribs when they come for
you."
Kahlan turned her attention back to the general. "We'll also need to
secretly trickle another force out of camp to wait at the opposite side of
the valley from Captain Abernathy, so that when the Order comes up the
valley in the middle, we can drive into their ribs from both sides at once.
They won't want to let us cut off and trap part of their force, so they'll
turn tail. Then our main force can drive steel into their vulnerable backs."
The three officers considered her plan in silence, while outside the
confusion of noise went on. Horses galloped past, wagons creaked and bounced
along, snow underfoot crunched as soldiers shuffled past, and men called out
orders.
Lieutenant Leiden's eyes turned up toward Kahlan. "Mother Confessor, my
Keltans could be that other force. They've all served together a long time,
and work well in our own units under my command. We could begin slipping out
of camp at once and gather down there to wait for the attack. You could send
a Sister with us to verify a prearranged signal, and then I could take my
men in when Captain Abernathy attacks from the opposite side."
Kahlan knew the man wanted to redeem himself in her eyes. He was also
looking to establish for Kelton a measure of autonomy within the D'Haran
Empire.
"That will be a dangerous spot, Lieutenant. If anything goes wrong, we
can't come to your aid."
He nodded. "But my men are familiar with the area and we're used to
traversing mountainous country in the winter. The Imperial Order is from a
warmer land. We have the advantage of weather and terrain. We can do the
job, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan straightened, letting out a breath as she appraised the man.
General Meiffert, she knew, would like the idea. Captain Abernathy would,
too; Galea and Kelton were traditional rivals, so the two would just as soon
fight their own way, and separately.
Richard had brought the lands together, so that they would all come to
feel they were one, now. That was vital if they were to survive. She
supposed that they were fighting for the same goal, so in that way they were
working together-they would have to coordinate their attacks. Lieutenant
Leiden did make sense, too; his troops were mountain fighters.
"All right, Lieutenant."
"Thank you, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan thought to add some insurance. "If you acquit yourself well in
this, Lieutenant, it could move you up in command."
Lieutenant Leiden clapped a fist to his heart in salute. "My men will
make their queen proud."
Kahlan acknowledged his pledge with the nod of the Mother Confessor.
She addressed them all. "We had better get under way."
General Meiffert grunted his agreement. "This will be a good
opportunity to knock down their numbers. If it goes even half right, this
time we'll bleed them good." He turned to the other two officers. "Let's get
started. We need to have your men moving at once to give them enough time to
be in position by morning. There's no telling how long they might wait to
attack, but if it comes as soon as dawn, I want you in position and ready."
"The Order favors attacking at dawn," Captain Abernathy said. "We can
be on
our way within the hour. We'll be in place and ready by dawn, should
they come in early."
"As can we," Lieutenant Leiden agreed.
The two officers bowed and started to leave.
"Captain," Kahlan called. The men turned back.
"Mother Confessor?"
"Do you have any idea what could be keeping Prince Harold and the rest
of your army? He should have been here long ago. We could really use the
rest of your men."
Captain Abernathy's thumb twiddled a bone button on the front of his
dark coat. "I'm sorry, Mother Confessor. I, too, thought they should have
been here by now. I can't imagine what could be keeping the prince."
"He should have been here by now," she repeated under her breath to
herself. She looked up at the captain. "Weather?"
"Perhaps, Mother Confessor. If there are storms, that could have
delayed him. That is probably the reason, and in that case I don't imagine
he should be much longer. Our men train in the mountains in such
conditions."
Kahlan sighed. "Let's hope he's here soon, then."
Captain Abernathy confidently met her gaze. "I know for a fact that the
prince was eager to collect his men and get down here to help. Galea spans
the Callisidrin Valley. The prince personally told me that it was to our own
best interest to halt the Imperial Order down here, rather than letting them
advance further up into the Midlands, where our lands and our families would
come under the terror of the enemy."
Kahlan could see in Lieutenant Leiden's eyes that he was thinking that
if Prince Harold instead decided to make a stand in the Callisidrin Valley,
in order to selfishly protect his homeland of Galea, such an obstacle very
well could force the Order to instead bear toward the northeast in their
advance, around the intervening mountains, and over into the Kern
Plain-right toward Leiden's homeland of Kelton. If Lieutenant Leiden was
imagining such treachery, he had the wisdom not to voice it.
"I know the weather was bad when I came down," Kahlan said. "It is
winter, after all. I'm sure Prince Harold will soon be here to help his
queen and the fellow people of the D'Haran Empire."
Kahlan offered them a smile to soften the subtle threat. "Thank you,
gentlemen. You'd best get to your tasks. May the good spirits watch your
backs."
After the men had saluted and horned off to their work, Adie put her
hands to her knees and levered herself to her feet.
"If you do not need me, I must see to informing the Sisters, Zedd, and
Warren of our plans."
Kahlan nodded wearily. "Thank you, Adie."
Adie, her eyes completely white, saw with the aid of her gift. Kahlan
could feel that gifted gaze on her.
"You have used your power," the old sorceress said. "I be able to see
it in your face. You must rest."
"I know," Kahlan said. "But there are things needing to be done."
"They will not get done if you fall ill, or worse-which could happen."
Adie's thin fingers gripped Cara's arm. "See to it that the Mother Confessor
be left alone for a while, so she can at least rest her head on the table,
if nothing else."
Cara swung the folding chair around and set it behind the table. She
pointed at it while leveling a stern look at Kahlan.
"Sit. I will stand watch."
Kahlan was exhausted. Using her Confessor's ability sapped her
strength. She needed time to recover. The hard ride back had only made
matters worse. She went around the table and sat down heavily in the folding
chair. She opened her fur mantle and set it back on her shoulders. Richard's
sword was still strapped to her back, its hilt jutting up above her
shoulder. She didn't bother to remove the sword.
Adie, at seeing Kahlan comply without complaint, smiled to herself and
went on her way. Cara took up guard at the entrance as Kahlan's head sank
down into her pillowed arms. Trying not to let the terrible events of the
day overwhelm her, she instead thought of Richard, remembering his handsome
smile, his penetrating gray eyes, his gentle touch. Her own eyes closed. In
her weariness, the chair and table felt as if they were spinning her around.
In moments, though, as she held her thoughts of Richard in her mind's eye,
she felt herself sliding into sleep.
Mother Confessor?"
Kahlan squinted up at a dark shape above her. She blinked, clearing her
vision, and saw that it was Verna. The gold sunburst ring of the Prelate of
the Sisters of the Light reflected a glimmer of lamplight. Behind her,
twilight tainted the tent canvas with a rusty glow.
Kahlan rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Verna wore a long, gray wool
dress and a dark brown cloak. At her throat, the dress had a bit of white
lace that softened the austerity of the outfit. Verna's brown hair had a
carefree wave and spring to it, but her brown eyes held a troubled look.
"What is it, Verna?"
"If you have a moment, I would like to talk to you."
No doubt, Verna had been talking to Warren. Whenever Kahlan saw them
together, the shared intimate glances, the chance furtive touch reminded her
of the way she and Richard felt about each other. It softened Kahlan's
feelings about Verna's stern exterior, to know she was in love-knowing, for
that matter, that she was capable of tenderness. Kahlan knew that she, too,
must be regarded with the same sort of curiosity, if not amazement, where
tender feelings were concerned.
She sighed, wondering if this was going to be a "talk" about Ann and
prophecy. Kahlan wasn't in the mood.
"Cara, how long have I been asleep?"
"A couple of hours. It will soon be dark."
As tight and sore as Kahlan's shoulders and neck were from sleeping
with her head on the table, the lateness of the hour didn't come as a
surprise. She stretched to the side and then saw the frail looking sorceress
sitting on a short bench. She had a dark blanket over her lap.
"How do you feel?" Adie asked.
"I'm fine." Kahlan could see her breath in the frigid air. "The men we
sent out?"
"Both groups be on their way, more than an hour ago," Adie said. "The
first group, the Galeans, all left together in big columns. The Keltans
dribbled out in small groups not as likely to be noticed by any spies
watching."
Kahlan yawned. "Good."
She knew they had to fear an attack by the Imperial Order as soon as
morning. At least that should give their men enough time to travel to their
positions and be ready. Waiting for an attack made her stomach feel queasy.
She knew the men, too, would be on edge and likely get little sleep.
Adie idly ran a thin finger back and forth along the red and yellow
beads at the neckline of her modest robes. "I came back after the Galeans
left, to help Cara keep people away so you would not be disturbed while you
rested."
Kahlan nodded her thanks. Apparently, either Adie thought Kahlan had
rested enough, or she thought Verna's visit was important.
"What is it, then, Verna?"
"We have . . . discovered something. Not so much discovered it, as had
an idea."
"Who is `we'?"
Verna cleared her throat. Under her breath she beseeched the Creator's
forgiveness before she went on.
"Actually, Mother Confessor, I thought of it. Some of my Sisters helped
me with it, but I'm the one who thought it up. The blame falls to me."
Kahlan thought that was an odd way of putting it. She didn't think
Verna looked at all pleased by her own idea, whatever it was. Kahlan waited
silently for her to go on.
"Well, you see, we have a problem getting things past the enemy's
gifted. They have Sisters of the light, but also Dark, and we don't have
their power. When we try to send things-"
"Send things?"
Verna pursed her lips. "Weapons."
When Kahlan's brow twitched with a questioning look, Verna bent and
gathered something from the ground. She held out her open hand, showing
Kahlan a collection of small pebbles.
"Zedd showed us how to turn simple things into devastating weapons. We
can use our power to fling them or even with our breath blow on some small
thing, like these pebbles, and use our magic to send them out faster than
any arrow, even an arrow from a crossbow. The pebbles we flung out in this
way cut down waves of advancing soldiers. The pebbles traveled so swiftly
that sometimes each would pierce the bodies of half a dozen men."
"I remember those reports," Kahlan said. "But that stopped working
because their gifted caught on to the artifice and now defend against such
things."
Kahlan recognized the weary look of the weight of responsibility in
Verna's brown eyes. "That's right. The Order learned how to look for things
of magic, or even things propelled by magic. Most of our conjuring that is
in any way similar has become useless."
"That's what Zedd told me-that in war magic is most often unseen, that
each side manages only to balance the other."
Verna nodded. "It is so. We do the same against them. Things they used
at first, we now know how to counter so we can protect our men. Our warning
horns, for example. We learned that we must code them with a trace of magic
to know they are genuine."
Kahlan drew her fur mantle up around her neck. She was chilled to the
bone and couldn't seem to get warm. Not surprising, seeing as how she was
spending all of her time outdoors. It was insanity to be carrying on a war
in such conditions. She guessed that war in fine weather was no more sane.
Still, she ached to be inside, beside a cozy fire.
"So what is this thing you thought up?"
As if reminded of the cold, Verna pulled her cloak tighter around her
shoulders. "Well, I got the notion that if the enemy gifted are, in a sense,
filtering for anything magic, or even anything being propelled by magic,
then what we need is something not magic."
Kahlan gave Verna a grim smile. "We do. They're called soldiers."
Verna didn't smile. "No. I meant something the gifted could do to
disable enemy troops without risk to our own men."
Adie shuffled forward to stand behind Kahlan's left shoulder as Verna
reached into her cloak and pulled out a small leather pouch closed with a
drawstring. She tossed it on the table before Kahlan, then set a piece of
paper beside it.
"Pour a little on the paper, please." Verna was holding her stomach as
if she were having indigestion. "But be careful not to touch it with your
finger or get it on your skin-and whatever you do, don't blow on it. Be
careful not to even breathe on it."
Adie leaned in to watch as Kahlan carefully poured a small quantity of
a sparkling dust from the pouch onto the square of paper. She pushed at the
little pile with the corner of the pouch. There were hints of pallid colors,
but it was mostly a pale, glimmering, greenish-gray.
"What is it? Some kind of magic dust?"
"Glass."
Kahlan's eyes turned up. "Glass. You thought up glass?"
Verna let out a tsk at herself for how foolish she must have sounded.
"No, Mother Confessor. I thought of breaking it. You see, this is just
simple glass that has been broken and crushed into fine pieces-almost dust.
But we used our Han to aid us when we crushed the glass with a mortar and
pestle. By using our gift, we were able to break the glass into very tiny
fragments, but in a special way."
Verna leaned over, her finger hovering above the little greenish-gray
mound. Cara leaned in beside her in order to look down at the dangerous
thing on the piece of paper.
"This glass-every piece-is sharp and jagged, even though each piece is
very tiny. Each piece is hardly bigger than dust, so it weighs nothing,
almost like dust."
"Dear spirits," Adie said before whispering a prayer in her own
language.
Kahlan cleared her throat. "I don't understand."
"Mother Confessor, we can't get our magic past the defenses of the
Order's gifted. They are prepared for magic, even if it's a simple pebble
but uses magic to hurl it at their troops.
"This glass, however, even though we used magic to break it, has no
magic properties-none at all. It's just inert material, the same as the dust
kicked up by their feet. They can't detect it as magic, because it isn't
magic. Through their gift, they will sense this as simple as dust, or mist,
or possibly fog, depending on atmospheric conditions at the time."
"But we sent dust clouds at them before," Kahlan said. "Dust to make
them sick and such. They mostly countered it."
Verna held up a finger to note her point as she smiled a grim smile.
"But those were dust clouds containing magic. Mother Confessor, this does
not. Don't you see? It's so light it floats in the air for a long time. We
could use simple magic to cast it up into the air, and then withdraw the
magic, or we could simply fling it up into the breeze, for that matter.
Either way, we have only to let their troops run through it."
"All right." Kahlan scratched an eyebrow. "But what will it do to
them?"
"It will get in their eyes," Adie said in her raspy voice from behind
Kahlan's shoulder.
"That's right," Verna said. "It gets in their eyes, just as any dust
would. At first, it will feel like dust in their eyes and they will try to
blink it away. However, since the fragments are all still jagged and razor
sharp, they will instead embed themselves
in the body's tissue. It will stick in their eyes, and build up under
their eyelids, where it will make thousands of tiny cuts across their eyes
with each blink. The more they blink, the more it eats away at their
delicate eyes." Verna straightened and pulled her cloak together. "It will
blind them."
Kahlan sat in numb disbelief at the madness of it all.
"Are you sure?" Cara asked. "Might it just irritate them, like gritty
dust?"
"We know for sure," Verna said. "We . . . had an accident, and know all
too well what it does. It may do more damage when it gets in the throat, the
lungs, and the gut-we don't know about that, yet-but we do know for sure
that such special glass, if we grind it to just the right size particles,
will float in the air and people passing through the cloud will be blinded
in remarkably short order. As long as we can blind a man, he can't fight. It
may not kill them, but as long as they are blind they can't kill us, or
fight back as we kill them."
Cara, usually gleeful at the prospect of killing the enemy, did not
seem so, now. "We would have but to line them up and butcher them."
Kahlan put her head in her hands, covering her eyes.
"You want me to approve its use, don't you? That's why you're here."
Verna said nothing. Kahlan looked up at last.
"That's what you want, isn't it?"
"Mother Confessor, I need not tell you that the Sisters of the Light
abhor harming people. However, this is a war for our very existence, for the
very existence of free people. We know it must be done. If Richard were here
. . . I just thought that you would want to be made aware of this, and be
the one to give such orders."
Kahlan stared at the woman, understanding then why she was holding her
hand over a pain in her stomach.
"Do you know, Prelate," Kahlan said in a near whisper, "that I killed a
child today? Not by accident, but on purpose. I would do it again without
hesitation. But that won't make me sleep any better."
"A child? It was truly necessary to . . . kill a child?"
"His name was Lyle. I believe you know him. He was another one of the
victims of Ann's Sisters of the Light."
Verna, her face gone ashen, closed her eyes against the news.
"I guess if I can kill a child," Kahlan said, "I can easily enough give
the orders for you to use your special glass against the monsters who would
use a child as a weapon. I have sworn no mercy, and I meant it."
Adie laid a gnarled hand on Kahlan's shoulder.
"Kahlan," Verna said in a gentle voice, "I can understand how you feel.
Ann used me, too, and I didn't understand why. I thought she used everyone
for her own selfish purposes. For a time, I thought her a despicable person.
You have every reason to believe as you do."
"But I would be wrong, Verna? Is that what you were going to add? I'd
not be so sure, were I you. You didn't have to kill a little boy today."
Verna nodded in sympathy but didn't argue.
"Adie," Kahlan asked, "do you think there would be anything you might
be able to do for the woman who was accidentally blinded? Perhaps you could
help her?"
Adie nodded. "That be a good idea. Verna, take me to her, and let me
see what I can do."
Kahlan cocked her head as the two women moved toward the tent opening.
"Did you hear that?"
"The horn?" Verna asked.
"Yes. It sounds like alarm horns."
Verna squinted in concentration. She turned her head to the side,
listening attentively.
"Yes, it does sound like alarm horns," she finally declared, "but it
doesn't have the right trace of magic through it. The enemy does that
often-tries to get us to act based on false alarms. We've been having more
and more lately."
Kahlan frowned. "We have? Why?"
"Why . . . what?"
Kahlan stood. "If we know they're false alarms, and they don't work,
then why would the Order increase the attempts? That makes no sense."
Verna's gaze roved about as as if searching in vain for an answer.
"Well, I don't know. I can't imagine. I'm no expert in the tactics of
warfare."
Cara turned to go have a look. "Maybe it's just some scouts coming back
in."
Kahlan turned her head, listening. She heard horses running, but that
wasn't so rare. It could be, as Cara suggested, scouts returning with
reports. But, by the sound of the hooves, the horses sounded big.
She heard men yelling. The clash of steel rang out-along with cries of
pain.
Kahlan drew her Galean royal sword as she started around the table.
Before any of them could get more than a step, the tent shuddered violently
as something crashed against its walls. For an instant, the whole thing
tipped at an impossible angle; then steel-tipped lances burst through the
canvas. With a rush of wind the tent collapsed around them.
The heavy canvas drove Kahlan to the ground as it caved in. She
couldn't get a grip on anything solid as the tent rolled her over and began
dragging her along. Hooves thundered past, pounding the ground right beside
her head.
She could smell lamp oil as it sloshed across the canvas. With a
whoosh, the oil and the tent ignited. Kahlan coughed on the smoke. She could
hear the crackle of flames. She could see nothing. She was trapped-rolled up
in the bucking tent as it slid across the ground.
Tightly shrouded in stiff canvas, Kahlan couldn't see anything. She
choked and gagged on the thick, acrid smoke burning her lungs. She pulled
frantically at the canvas, trying to disentangle herself, but as she bounced
and tumbled along the ground, she couldn't make any headway gaining her
liberty. The heat of flames close to her face ignited in her a sense of
panic. Her weariness forgotten, she kicked and struggled madly as she gasped
for air.
"Where are you!"
It was Cara's voice. It sounded close, as if she, too, was being
dragged along and strenuously engaged in her own fight for life. Cara was
smart enough not to shout Kahlan's name or title when surrounded by the
enemy; hopefully, Verna knew better, as well.
"Here!" Kahlan shouted in answer to Cara.
Kahlan's sword was trapped, pressed to her legs by the rolled canvas.
She managed to wiggle her left hand up onto the knife at her belt. She
yanked it free. She had to turn her face to try to keep away from the heat
of the oily flames. The smothering smoky blindness was terrifying.
With angry resolve, Kahlan stabbed at the canvas, punching her knife
through. Just then, the tent hit something and they were bounced into the
air. The hard landing knocked the wind from her lungs. A gasp pulled in
suffocating smoke. Again, Kahlan plunged her knife into the heavy canvas and
slashed an opening as her entire shroud erupted into flame.
She yelled again to Cara. "I can't get-"
The tent hit something solid. Her shoulder whacked hard into what felt
like a tree stump and she was flipped up and over the top of it. Had she not
been wearing her stiff leather armor, the blow surely would have broken her
shoulder. Crashing down on the other side, Kahlan tumbled free and across
the snow. She spread her arms to stop herself from rolling.
Kahlan saw General Meiffert reach up, seize a fistful of chain mail,
and unhorse the man who had been dragging her tent. The man's eyes gleamed
from behind long, curly, greasy hair. His stout body was covered with hides
and furs over chain mail and leather armor. He was missing his upper teeth.
As he lunged at the general, he lost his head, too.
Yet more Order troops wheeled their big warhorses, striking down at the
D'Harans scrambling both to escape the blows and to mount a defense. One of
the warhorses charged Kahlan's way, its rider leaning out, swinging a flail.
Kahlan sheathed both her knife and sword. She snatched up the lance of the
man who had been dragging the tent. She brought the long weapon up and spun
around just in time to
plant the butt end in a frozen rut and let the charging warhorse take
the steel-tipped point in his chest.
As the grinning Order soldier with the flail leaped from the staggering
horse, he drew his sword with his free hand. Kahlan didn't wait; as he was
still alighting on his feet, she spun while drawing her own sword and landed
a solid backhanded blow across the left side of his face.
Without pause, she dove under the legs of another horse to dodge a
blade when the horse's rider slashed down at her. She sprang up on the other
side and hacked the rider's leg open to the bone twice before turning just
in time to ram her sword up to its hilt into the chest of another horse
sidling in, trying to crush her against the first. As the animal reared with
a wild scream, Kahlan yanked her sword free and tumbled away just before the
big horse crashed to the ground. The rider's leg was trapped, and he was at
an awkward angle to defend himself Kahlan made the best of the opportunity.
For the moment, the immediate area was clear, enabling her to scramble
over to the tent where the general was on his knees, yanking at the snarled
mess of canvas and rope. More Order cavalry were thundering past,
threatening to trample Verna, Adie, and Cara still trapped in the tangle of
tent. At least the burning section had pulled away.
Kahlan worked beside General Meiffert to tug and cut the canvas. At
last they ripped open the heavy material, freeing Adie and Verna. The two
women were rolled up together, nearly in each another's arms. Adie's head
was bleeding, but she pushed away Kahlan's concerned hands. Verna emerged
from the cocoon and stumbled to her feet, still dizzy from the wild ride.
Kahlan helped Adie up. The scrape on her brow didn't look too serious.
General Meiffert pulled frantically at the canvas. Cara was still inside,
somewhere, but they no longer heard her.
Kahlan seized Verna by the arm. "I thought they were false alarms!"
"They were!" Verna insisted. "Obviously, they tricked us."
All around, soldiers were engaged in pitched battle with Imperial Order
cavalry. Men shouted in fury as they threw themselves into battle; some
screamed as they were wounded or killed; others called out orders,
commanding a defense, while the men on horseback ordered in their attack.
Some of the cavalry were setting fire to wagons, tents, and supplies.
Others charged past, trampling men and tents. Pairs of riders teamed up to
single out soldiers and take them down, then charged after another victim.
They were using the same tactics the D'Harans had used. They were doing
what Kahlan had taught them to do.
When a soldier, draped in filthy fur and weapons, cried out in bravado
as he rushed at her wielding a raised mace studded with glistening bloody
spikes, Kahlan took his hand off with a lightning-swift blow. He staggered
to a stop and stared a her in surprise. Without missing a beat, she drove
her sword into his gut and gave it a wrenching twist before pulling it free.
She turned her attention elsewhere as he crashed down atop a fire. His
screams melted in with all the others.
Kahlan fell to her knees once more to help General Meiffert free Cara.
He had found her amid the snare of rope and folds of canvas. From time to
time one of them had to turn to fight off sporadic attackers. Kahlan could
see Cara's red boots sticking out from under the canvas, but they were
still.
Tent line was tangled around Cara's legs. With Kahlan and the general
working together, they cut through the mire of rope and were finally able to
unroll Cara. She held her head as she moaned. She wasn't unconscious, but
she was groggy and unable to get her bearings. Kahlan found a lump in her
hair, at the right side of her head, but it wasn't bleeding.
Cara tried to sit up. Kahlan pressed her down on her back.
"Stay there. You were hit on the head. I don't want you to get up just
yet."
Kahlan looked over her shoulder and saw Verna, nearby, singling out
Imperial Order troops, each twitch of her hands casting a fiery spell to
blast them from their horses, or a focused edge of air as sharp as any
blade, yet more swift and sure, to slice them down. Without the gift
themselves, or one of the gifted to protect them, the enemy's simple armor
was no defense.
Kahlan caught Verna's attention and motioned for her help. Seizing the
woman's cloak at her shoulder, Kahlan pulled Verna close to speak into her
ear so as to be heard above the noise of battle.
"See how she is, will you? Help her?"
Verna nodded and then huddled at Cara's side as Kahlan and the general
turned to a fresh charge of cavalry. As one man galloped in close, wielding
his lance around, General Meiffert dodged the strike and then leaped up onto
the side of the horse, catching hold of the saddle's horn. With a grunt of
angry effort, he drove his sword through the rider. The surprised man clawed
at the blade in his soft middle. The general yanked his sword free, then
grabbed the man by the hair and dragged him out of the saddle. As the dying
man fell away, General Meiffert sprang up into the saddle, in his place.
Kahlan snatched up the fallen cavalryman's lance.
The big D'Haran general wheeled the huge horse into the way of charging
enemy cavalry, protecting Verna and Cara. Kahlan sheathed her sword and used
the lance to good effect against the warhorses. Horses, even well-trained
warhorses, didn't appreciate being stabbed in the chest. Many people
considered them just dumb beasts, but horses were smart enough to understand
that driving themselves onto a pointed lance was not what they wanted to do,
and reacted accordingly.
As horses bucked and reared when Kahlan stabbed them with her lance,
many of their riders fell. Some were injured from the fall onto scattered
equipment or the frozen ground, but most came under the swarming attack of
the D'Harans.
From atop his Imperial Order warhorse, General Meiffert commanded his
men to form a defensive line. After directing them into place, he charged
off, roaring a string of orders as he went. He didn't tell his men who to
protect, so as not to betray Kahlan to the enemy, but they quickly saw what
it was he intended them to do. D'Harans grabbed up the enemy lances, or came
running with their own pikes, and soon there was a bristling line of
steel-tipped pole weapons presenting a deadly obstacle to any approaching
cavalry.
Kahlan called out orders to men on either side, and, as she joined the
line, commanded them into position to block an Imperial Order cavalry unit
of about two hundred who were trying to make good their escape. The enemy
might have been emulating the raids the D'Haran cavalry had made on the
Imperial Order's camp, but Kahlan wasn't about to allow them to succeed at
it. She intended them to fail.
The enemy's horses balked when they encountered a solid line of
advancing pikes brandished by men shouting battle cries. Soldiers coming
from behind the Order cavalry rained down arrows. D'Harans dragged trapped
riders from their saddles, down into the bloody hand-to-hand fighting on the
ground.
"I don't want one of them escaping camp alive!" she yelled to her men.
"No mercy!"
"No mercy!" every D'Haran within earshot called out in answer.
The enemy, so confident and arrogant as they had charged in, relishing
the prospect of spilling D' Haran blood, were now nothing more than pathetic
men in the ungainly grip of despair as the D'Harans hacked them to death.
Kahlan left the soldiers with the lances and pikes, now that a
defensive line had been established and the enemy was trapped, and ran back
through the fires and choking smoke to find Verna, Adie, and Cara. She had
to dodge wounded soldiers of both armies on the ground. The fallen attackers
who still had fight in them snatched at her ankles. She had to stab several
who tried to rise up to grab her. Others afoot who suddenly appeared, she
had to cut down.
The enemy knew who she was, or at least they were pretty sure. Jagang
had seen her, and no doubt had described the Mother Confessor to his men.
Kahlan was sure to have a heavy price on her head.
There seemed to be Imperial Order men scattered throughout the camp.
She doubted there had been an attack by foot soldiers; they were probably
cavalrymen who had lost their mounts. Horses were often easier moving
targets to hit with arrows and spears than were men. In the gathering
darkness it was hard to make out enemy soldiers. They were able to sneak
through the camp undiscovered as they hunted targets of value, such as
officers, or maybe even the Mother Confessor.
When the lurking enemy spotted Kahlan making her way through the chaos,
they came out from their hiding places to go after her with wild abandon.
Others, she came upon and surprised. Remembering not only her father's
training, but Richard's admonition, Kahlan cut fiercely into the enemy
soldiers. She gave them no opening; no chance; no mercy.
Kahlan pulled angry breaths through gritted teeth. "How much blood, how
many corpses, how much grief will it take before you see the harm prophecy
has inflicted upon the world?"
Warren smiled sadly. "I am a prophet. I've always wanted to be a
prophet in order to help people. I wouldn't put my faith in it if I truly
thought it was the cause of harm." He smiled more brightly with a memory.
"Don't forget, without prophecy, you would never have come to meet Richard.
Aren't you better off having had him come into your life? I know I am."
Kahlan's look of cold fury took the warm smile from his face.
"I-would rather have been condemned to a lonely life without love, than
to know
that harm has come to him because he came into my life. I would rather
never have met him, than to have come to know his value, and know that that
value is being dashed on the rocks of this mad faith in prophecy."
Warren stuck his hands in the opposite sleeves of his purple robes as
his gaze sank to the ground. "I understand how you can feel that way.
Please, Kahlan, talk to Verna."
"Why? She's the one who carried out Ann's orders."
"Just talk to her. I almost lost Verna because she felt the same way as
you do now."
"Verna?"
Warren nodded. "She came to believe she had been used maliciously by
Ann. For twenty years she was on a fruitless search for Richard, when all
the while Ann knew right where he was. Can you imagine how Verna felt when
she discovered that? There were other things, too. Ann tricked us into
believing she was dead. She maneuvered Verna into being Prelate." Warren
pulled a hand from his sleeve and held his first finger and thumb an inch
apart. "She was once this close to throwing her journey book into a fire."
"She should have."
Warren's sad smile returned. "I'm just saying it might make you feel
better to talk to her. She will understand how you feel."
"What good is that going to do?"
Warren shrugged. "Even if you're right, so what? What's done is done.
We can't undo it. Nicci has Richard. The Imperial Order is here in the New
World. Whatever caused the events, they are upon us and we must now deal
with that reality."
Kahlan appraised his sparkling blue eyes. "You learned this studying
prophecy?"
His smile widened into a grin. "No. That was what Richard taught me.
And, a pretty smart woman I know just told me not to start down the path of
what-mighthave-been."
As much as she was of a mind to hold on to it, Kahlan felt her anger
slipping away. "I'm not so sure how smart she is."
Warren waved down at the troops charging up the hill with their swords
drawn, signaling the allclear. The men slowed to a fast walk, but didn't
sheathe their weapons.
"Well," Warren said, "she was smart enough to figure out Jagang's plan,
and in the middle of being attacked by his gifted minion to keep her wits
about her and to trick him into thinking she had fallen for his scheme."
Kahlan drew her face into a peevish scowl. "How old are you, Warren?"
He looked surprised by the question. "I turned one hundred fifty-eight
not long ago."
"That explains it," Cara griped, starting off down the hill. "Stop
looking so young and innocent all the time, Warren. It's just plain
irritating."
--]----
By the time Kahlan, Cara, Warren, and their escort of guard troops
arrived back in camp several hours later, it was a scene of furious
activity. Wagons were being loaded, horses hitched, and weapons readied.
Tents were not yet being taken down, but soldiers in their leather and
chain-mail armor, and still eating the remnants of their dinners, were
gathered around officers, listening to instructions for when the
order was given to send a force out to intercept the enemy moving
north. Other officers in tents Kahlan passed were bent over maps.
The aroma of stew drifting through the afternoon air reminded her how
hungry she was. Winter darkness came early, and the overcast made it feel
like it was already evening. The endless cloudy days were getting to be
depressing. There was little chance to see much of the sun; soon, heavier
snow would make it down this far south.
Kahlan dismounted and let a young soldier take her horse. She no longer
rode a big warhorse. She, and most of the cavalry, had switched to smaller,
more agile mounts. For a clash between large units, big warhorses added
weight to a charge, but since the D'Haran Empire forces were so outnumbered,
they had decided it would be best to trade weight far speed and
maneuverability.
By changing tactics in such a way, not just with the cavalry but with
their entire army, Kahlan and General Meiffert had been able to keep the
Order off balance for weeks. They let the enemy put a huge effort into a
crushing attack, and then dodged it just enough to save themselves while
letting the Order, being tantalizingly close, wear themselves out. When the
Order tired from the effort of such massive attacks and paused to rest,
General Meiffert sent in glancing attacks to step on their toes and make
them dance. Once the Order dug in for the expected attack, Kahlan withdrew
their forces to a more distant spot, rendering useless the Order's effort at
building defenses.
If the Order tried the same thing again, the D'Harans continued to
harry them day and night, buzzing around them like angry hornets, but
staying out of reach of a heavy swat. If the Imperial Order tired of not
being able to sink their teeth into their enemy, and turned their forces to
go after population centers, then Kahlan had her men jump on their tails and
put arrows in their backs as they struggled to get free. Eventually, they
would have to forget their thoughts of plunder and turn back toward the
threat.
The Imperial Order was maddened by the D'Harans' constant badgering
tactics. Jagang's men were insulted by that kind of fighting; they believed
real men met face-to-face in the field of battle, and exchanged blow for
blow. Of course, it didn't trouble their dignity that they greatly
outnumbered the D'Harans. Kahlan knew such a meeting would be bloody and
only to the Order's advantage. She didn't care what they thought, only that
they died.
The more angry and frustrating the Imperial Order became, the more
recklessly they behaved, launching impetuous attacks into well-ordered
defenses, or heedlessly pressing men into doomed attacks trying to take
ground they couldn't possibly take in such a fashion. It sometimes stunned
Kahlan to watch so many of the enemy march into range below their archers,
fall dead, only to have yet more men march right in behind them,
continuously adding corpses to a battlefield already choked with the dead
and dying. It was insanity.
The D'Harans had suffered several thousand dead or seriously wounded.
On the other hand, Kahlan and General Meiffert estimated that they had
killed or wounded in excess of fifty thousand of the enemy. It was the
equivalent of stepping on one ant as the colony poured out of its anthill.
She could think of nothing else to do but to keep at it. They had no choice.
Kahlan, with Cara at her side, crossed a river of men to get to the
command tents sporting blue cloth strips. Unless you knew the day's color
code, finding the command tents would be nearly impossible. Because of the
fear of an infiltrator or an
enemy gifted finding and being able to kill a group of senior officers
gathered together, they met in nondescript tents. Colored cloth strips
marked many of the tents-the men used them as as system of finding their
units when they had to move on short notice and so often-so Kahlan got the
idea of using the same system to identify the command tents. They changed
the color code often so no one color would become known as the officers'
colors.
Inside the cramped tent, General Meiffert looked up from where he bent
over a table with a map unfurled at a cockeyed angle. Lieutenant Leiden, of
Kelton, was there along with Captain Abernathy, the commander of the Galean
forces Kahlan had brought down with her weeks before.
Adie was sitting quietly in the corner, as the representative of the
gifted, watching the goings-on with her completely white eyes. Blinded as a
young woman, Adie had learned to see using her gift. She was a remarkably
talented sorceress. Adie was quite proficient at using that talent to do the
enemy harm. Now she was there to help coordinate the Sister's abilities with
the needs of the army.
When Kahlan inquired, Adie told her, "Zedd be down at the southern
lines, checking on details."
Kahlan nodded her thanks. "Warren went down there to help, too."
Kahlan scrunched up her freezing toes in her boots, trying to bring
feeling back to them. She blew warm air into her cupped hands and then
turned her attention to the waiting general.
"We need to get together a good-sized force-maybe twenty thousand men."
General Meiffert sighed his frustration. "So they are moving an army up
past us."
"No," she said. "It's a trick."
The three officers frowned their puzzlement as they waited for an
explanation.
"I ran into Jagang-"
"You what!" General Meiffert shouted in unbridled panic.
Kahlan waved a hand, allaying his fears. "Not like you're thinking. It
was through the body of one of his slaves." She stuck her hands under her
arms to warm them. "The important thing is that I played along with Jagang's
scheme so that he would think we were falling for his plan."
Kahlan explained how Jagang's ruse of troop movements was meant to work
and how its true design was to draw away a good-sized force so as to leave
those remaining behind weaker. The men listened as she laid it all out while
pointing to the locations on the map.
"If we were to send that many men out," Lieutenant Leiden asked,
"wouldn't that be just what Emperor Jagang wanted?"
"It would be," she told him, "but that's not what we're going to do. I
want those men to ride out of camp, to make it look as if we were doing what
he expected."
She leaned over the map, using a piece of charcoal to sketch in some of
the nearby mountains she had just traveled through, and showed .them a
lowland pass around several.
Captain Abernathy spoke up. "We have my Galean troops-they're close to
the number you need to serve as the decoy."
"That's what I was thinking," General Meiffert said.
"Done," Kahlan said. She pointed at the map again. "Circle around these
mountains, here, Captain, so that when the Order attacks our camp, thinking
to roll over us, your men can stick them in their soft side, right here,
where they won't expect it."
Captain Abernathy, a trim man with a graying bushy mustache that
matched his
eyebrows, nodded as he watched Kahlan pointing out the route on the
map. "Don't worry, Mother Confessor, the Order will believe we're gone, but
we'll be standing ready to drive right into their ribs when they come for
you."
Kahlan turned her attention back to the general. "We'll also need to
secretly trickle another force out of camp to wait at the opposite side of
the valley from Captain Abernathy, so that when the Order comes up the
valley in the middle, we can drive into their ribs from both sides at once.
They won't want to let us cut off and trap part of their force, so they'll
turn tail. Then our main force can drive steel into their vulnerable backs."
The three officers considered her plan in silence, while outside the
confusion of noise went on. Horses galloped past, wagons creaked and bounced
along, snow underfoot crunched as soldiers shuffled past, and men called out
orders.
Lieutenant Leiden's eyes turned up toward Kahlan. "Mother Confessor, my
Keltans could be that other force. They've all served together a long time,
and work well in our own units under my command. We could begin slipping out
of camp at once and gather down there to wait for the attack. You could send
a Sister with us to verify a prearranged signal, and then I could take my
men in when Captain Abernathy attacks from the opposite side."
Kahlan knew the man wanted to redeem himself in her eyes. He was also
looking to establish for Kelton a measure of autonomy within the D'Haran
Empire.
"That will be a dangerous spot, Lieutenant. If anything goes wrong, we
can't come to your aid."
He nodded. "But my men are familiar with the area and we're used to
traversing mountainous country in the winter. The Imperial Order is from a
warmer land. We have the advantage of weather and terrain. We can do the
job, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan straightened, letting out a breath as she appraised the man.
General Meiffert, she knew, would like the idea. Captain Abernathy would,
too; Galea and Kelton were traditional rivals, so the two would just as soon
fight their own way, and separately.
Richard had brought the lands together, so that they would all come to
feel they were one, now. That was vital if they were to survive. She
supposed that they were fighting for the same goal, so in that way they were
working together-they would have to coordinate their attacks. Lieutenant
Leiden did make sense, too; his troops were mountain fighters.
"All right, Lieutenant."
"Thank you, Mother Confessor."
Kahlan thought to add some insurance. "If you acquit yourself well in
this, Lieutenant, it could move you up in command."
Lieutenant Leiden clapped a fist to his heart in salute. "My men will
make their queen proud."
Kahlan acknowledged his pledge with the nod of the Mother Confessor.
She addressed them all. "We had better get under way."
General Meiffert grunted his agreement. "This will be a good
opportunity to knock down their numbers. If it goes even half right, this
time we'll bleed them good." He turned to the other two officers. "Let's get
started. We need to have your men moving at once to give them enough time to
be in position by morning. There's no telling how long they might wait to
attack, but if it comes as soon as dawn, I want you in position and ready."
"The Order favors attacking at dawn," Captain Abernathy said. "We can
be on
our way within the hour. We'll be in place and ready by dawn, should
they come in early."
"As can we," Lieutenant Leiden agreed.
The two officers bowed and started to leave.
"Captain," Kahlan called. The men turned back.
"Mother Confessor?"
"Do you have any idea what could be keeping Prince Harold and the rest
of your army? He should have been here long ago. We could really use the
rest of your men."
Captain Abernathy's thumb twiddled a bone button on the front of his
dark coat. "I'm sorry, Mother Confessor. I, too, thought they should have
been here by now. I can't imagine what could be keeping the prince."
"He should have been here by now," she repeated under her breath to
herself. She looked up at the captain. "Weather?"
"Perhaps, Mother Confessor. If there are storms, that could have
delayed him. That is probably the reason, and in that case I don't imagine
he should be much longer. Our men train in the mountains in such
conditions."
Kahlan sighed. "Let's hope he's here soon, then."
Captain Abernathy confidently met her gaze. "I know for a fact that the
prince was eager to collect his men and get down here to help. Galea spans
the Callisidrin Valley. The prince personally told me that it was to our own
best interest to halt the Imperial Order down here, rather than letting them
advance further up into the Midlands, where our lands and our families would
come under the terror of the enemy."
Kahlan could see in Lieutenant Leiden's eyes that he was thinking that
if Prince Harold instead decided to make a stand in the Callisidrin Valley,
in order to selfishly protect his homeland of Galea, such an obstacle very
well could force the Order to instead bear toward the northeast in their
advance, around the intervening mountains, and over into the Kern
Plain-right toward Leiden's homeland of Kelton. If Lieutenant Leiden was
imagining such treachery, he had the wisdom not to voice it.
"I know the weather was bad when I came down," Kahlan said. "It is
winter, after all. I'm sure Prince Harold will soon be here to help his
queen and the fellow people of the D'Haran Empire."
Kahlan offered them a smile to soften the subtle threat. "Thank you,
gentlemen. You'd best get to your tasks. May the good spirits watch your
backs."
After the men had saluted and horned off to their work, Adie put her
hands to her knees and levered herself to her feet.
"If you do not need me, I must see to informing the Sisters, Zedd, and
Warren of our plans."
Kahlan nodded wearily. "Thank you, Adie."
Adie, her eyes completely white, saw with the aid of her gift. Kahlan
could feel that gifted gaze on her.
"You have used your power," the old sorceress said. "I be able to see
it in your face. You must rest."
"I know," Kahlan said. "But there are things needing to be done."
"They will not get done if you fall ill, or worse-which could happen."
Adie's thin fingers gripped Cara's arm. "See to it that the Mother Confessor
be left alone for a while, so she can at least rest her head on the table,
if nothing else."
Cara swung the folding chair around and set it behind the table. She
pointed at it while leveling a stern look at Kahlan.
"Sit. I will stand watch."
Kahlan was exhausted. Using her Confessor's ability sapped her
strength. She needed time to recover. The hard ride back had only made
matters worse. She went around the table and sat down heavily in the folding
chair. She opened her fur mantle and set it back on her shoulders. Richard's
sword was still strapped to her back, its hilt jutting up above her
shoulder. She didn't bother to remove the sword.
Adie, at seeing Kahlan comply without complaint, smiled to herself and
went on her way. Cara took up guard at the entrance as Kahlan's head sank
down into her pillowed arms. Trying not to let the terrible events of the
day overwhelm her, she instead thought of Richard, remembering his handsome
smile, his penetrating gray eyes, his gentle touch. Her own eyes closed. In
her weariness, the chair and table felt as if they were spinning her around.
In moments, though, as she held her thoughts of Richard in her mind's eye,
she felt herself sliding into sleep.
Mother Confessor?"
Kahlan squinted up at a dark shape above her. She blinked, clearing her
vision, and saw that it was Verna. The gold sunburst ring of the Prelate of
the Sisters of the Light reflected a glimmer of lamplight. Behind her,
twilight tainted the tent canvas with a rusty glow.
Kahlan rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Verna wore a long, gray wool
dress and a dark brown cloak. At her throat, the dress had a bit of white
lace that softened the austerity of the outfit. Verna's brown hair had a
carefree wave and spring to it, but her brown eyes held a troubled look.
"What is it, Verna?"
"If you have a moment, I would like to talk to you."
No doubt, Verna had been talking to Warren. Whenever Kahlan saw them
together, the shared intimate glances, the chance furtive touch reminded her
of the way she and Richard felt about each other. It softened Kahlan's
feelings about Verna's stern exterior, to know she was in love-knowing, for
that matter, that she was capable of tenderness. Kahlan knew that she, too,
must be regarded with the same sort of curiosity, if not amazement, where
tender feelings were concerned.
She sighed, wondering if this was going to be a "talk" about Ann and
prophecy. Kahlan wasn't in the mood.
"Cara, how long have I been asleep?"
"A couple of hours. It will soon be dark."
As tight and sore as Kahlan's shoulders and neck were from sleeping
with her head on the table, the lateness of the hour didn't come as a
surprise. She stretched to the side and then saw the frail looking sorceress
sitting on a short bench. She had a dark blanket over her lap.
"How do you feel?" Adie asked.
"I'm fine." Kahlan could see her breath in the frigid air. "The men we
sent out?"
"Both groups be on their way, more than an hour ago," Adie said. "The
first group, the Galeans, all left together in big columns. The Keltans
dribbled out in small groups not as likely to be noticed by any spies
watching."
Kahlan yawned. "Good."
She knew they had to fear an attack by the Imperial Order as soon as
morning. At least that should give their men enough time to travel to their
positions and be ready. Waiting for an attack made her stomach feel queasy.
She knew the men, too, would be on edge and likely get little sleep.
Adie idly ran a thin finger back and forth along the red and yellow
beads at the neckline of her modest robes. "I came back after the Galeans
left, to help Cara keep people away so you would not be disturbed while you
rested."
Kahlan nodded her thanks. Apparently, either Adie thought Kahlan had
rested enough, or she thought Verna's visit was important.
"What is it, then, Verna?"
"We have . . . discovered something. Not so much discovered it, as had
an idea."
"Who is `we'?"
Verna cleared her throat. Under her breath she beseeched the Creator's
forgiveness before she went on.
"Actually, Mother Confessor, I thought of it. Some of my Sisters helped
me with it, but I'm the one who thought it up. The blame falls to me."
Kahlan thought that was an odd way of putting it. She didn't think
Verna looked at all pleased by her own idea, whatever it was. Kahlan waited
silently for her to go on.
"Well, you see, we have a problem getting things past the enemy's
gifted. They have Sisters of the light, but also Dark, and we don't have
their power. When we try to send things-"
"Send things?"
Verna pursed her lips. "Weapons."
When Kahlan's brow twitched with a questioning look, Verna bent and
gathered something from the ground. She held out her open hand, showing
Kahlan a collection of small pebbles.
"Zedd showed us how to turn simple things into devastating weapons. We
can use our power to fling them or even with our breath blow on some small
thing, like these pebbles, and use our magic to send them out faster than
any arrow, even an arrow from a crossbow. The pebbles we flung out in this
way cut down waves of advancing soldiers. The pebbles traveled so swiftly
that sometimes each would pierce the bodies of half a dozen men."
"I remember those reports," Kahlan said. "But that stopped working
because their gifted caught on to the artifice and now defend against such
things."
Kahlan recognized the weary look of the weight of responsibility in
Verna's brown eyes. "That's right. The Order learned how to look for things
of magic, or even things propelled by magic. Most of our conjuring that is
in any way similar has become useless."
"That's what Zedd told me-that in war magic is most often unseen, that
each side manages only to balance the other."
Verna nodded. "It is so. We do the same against them. Things they used
at first, we now know how to counter so we can protect our men. Our warning
horns, for example. We learned that we must code them with a trace of magic
to know they are genuine."
Kahlan drew her fur mantle up around her neck. She was chilled to the
bone and couldn't seem to get warm. Not surprising, seeing as how she was
spending all of her time outdoors. It was insanity to be carrying on a war
in such conditions. She guessed that war in fine weather was no more sane.
Still, she ached to be inside, beside a cozy fire.
"So what is this thing you thought up?"
As if reminded of the cold, Verna pulled her cloak tighter around her
shoulders. "Well, I got the notion that if the enemy gifted are, in a sense,
filtering for anything magic, or even anything being propelled by magic,
then what we need is something not magic."
Kahlan gave Verna a grim smile. "We do. They're called soldiers."
Verna didn't smile. "No. I meant something the gifted could do to
disable enemy troops without risk to our own men."
Adie shuffled forward to stand behind Kahlan's left shoulder as Verna
reached into her cloak and pulled out a small leather pouch closed with a
drawstring. She tossed it on the table before Kahlan, then set a piece of
paper beside it.
"Pour a little on the paper, please." Verna was holding her stomach as
if she were having indigestion. "But be careful not to touch it with your
finger or get it on your skin-and whatever you do, don't blow on it. Be
careful not to even breathe on it."
Adie leaned in to watch as Kahlan carefully poured a small quantity of
a sparkling dust from the pouch onto the square of paper. She pushed at the
little pile with the corner of the pouch. There were hints of pallid colors,
but it was mostly a pale, glimmering, greenish-gray.
"What is it? Some kind of magic dust?"
"Glass."
Kahlan's eyes turned up. "Glass. You thought up glass?"
Verna let out a tsk at herself for how foolish she must have sounded.
"No, Mother Confessor. I thought of breaking it. You see, this is just
simple glass that has been broken and crushed into fine pieces-almost dust.
But we used our Han to aid us when we crushed the glass with a mortar and
pestle. By using our gift, we were able to break the glass into very tiny
fragments, but in a special way."
Verna leaned over, her finger hovering above the little greenish-gray
mound. Cara leaned in beside her in order to look down at the dangerous
thing on the piece of paper.
"This glass-every piece-is sharp and jagged, even though each piece is
very tiny. Each piece is hardly bigger than dust, so it weighs nothing,
almost like dust."
"Dear spirits," Adie said before whispering a prayer in her own
language.
Kahlan cleared her throat. "I don't understand."
"Mother Confessor, we can't get our magic past the defenses of the
Order's gifted. They are prepared for magic, even if it's a simple pebble
but uses magic to hurl it at their troops.
"This glass, however, even though we used magic to break it, has no
magic properties-none at all. It's just inert material, the same as the dust
kicked up by their feet. They can't detect it as magic, because it isn't
magic. Through their gift, they will sense this as simple as dust, or mist,
or possibly fog, depending on atmospheric conditions at the time."
"But we sent dust clouds at them before," Kahlan said. "Dust to make
them sick and such. They mostly countered it."
Verna held up a finger to note her point as she smiled a grim smile.
"But those were dust clouds containing magic. Mother Confessor, this does
not. Don't you see? It's so light it floats in the air for a long time. We
could use simple magic to cast it up into the air, and then withdraw the
magic, or we could simply fling it up into the breeze, for that matter.
Either way, we have only to let their troops run through it."
"All right." Kahlan scratched an eyebrow. "But what will it do to
them?"
"It will get in their eyes," Adie said in her raspy voice from behind
Kahlan's shoulder.
"That's right," Verna said. "It gets in their eyes, just as any dust
would. At first, it will feel like dust in their eyes and they will try to
blink it away. However, since the fragments are all still jagged and razor
sharp, they will instead embed themselves
in the body's tissue. It will stick in their eyes, and build up under
their eyelids, where it will make thousands of tiny cuts across their eyes
with each blink. The more they blink, the more it eats away at their
delicate eyes." Verna straightened and pulled her cloak together. "It will
blind them."
Kahlan sat in numb disbelief at the madness of it all.
"Are you sure?" Cara asked. "Might it just irritate them, like gritty
dust?"
"We know for sure," Verna said. "We . . . had an accident, and know all
too well what it does. It may do more damage when it gets in the throat, the
lungs, and the gut-we don't know about that, yet-but we do know for sure
that such special glass, if we grind it to just the right size particles,
will float in the air and people passing through the cloud will be blinded
in remarkably short order. As long as we can blind a man, he can't fight. It
may not kill them, but as long as they are blind they can't kill us, or
fight back as we kill them."
Cara, usually gleeful at the prospect of killing the enemy, did not
seem so, now. "We would have but to line them up and butcher them."
Kahlan put her head in her hands, covering her eyes.
"You want me to approve its use, don't you? That's why you're here."
Verna said nothing. Kahlan looked up at last.
"That's what you want, isn't it?"
"Mother Confessor, I need not tell you that the Sisters of the Light
abhor harming people. However, this is a war for our very existence, for the
very existence of free people. We know it must be done. If Richard were here
. . . I just thought that you would want to be made aware of this, and be
the one to give such orders."
Kahlan stared at the woman, understanding then why she was holding her
hand over a pain in her stomach.
"Do you know, Prelate," Kahlan said in a near whisper, "that I killed a
child today? Not by accident, but on purpose. I would do it again without
hesitation. But that won't make me sleep any better."
"A child? It was truly necessary to . . . kill a child?"
"His name was Lyle. I believe you know him. He was another one of the
victims of Ann's Sisters of the Light."
Verna, her face gone ashen, closed her eyes against the news.
"I guess if I can kill a child," Kahlan said, "I can easily enough give
the orders for you to use your special glass against the monsters who would
use a child as a weapon. I have sworn no mercy, and I meant it."
Adie laid a gnarled hand on Kahlan's shoulder.
"Kahlan," Verna said in a gentle voice, "I can understand how you feel.
Ann used me, too, and I didn't understand why. I thought she used everyone
for her own selfish purposes. For a time, I thought her a despicable person.
You have every reason to believe as you do."
"But I would be wrong, Verna? Is that what you were going to add? I'd
not be so sure, were I you. You didn't have to kill a little boy today."
Verna nodded in sympathy but didn't argue.
"Adie," Kahlan asked, "do you think there would be anything you might
be able to do for the woman who was accidentally blinded? Perhaps you could
help her?"
Adie nodded. "That be a good idea. Verna, take me to her, and let me
see what I can do."
Kahlan cocked her head as the two women moved toward the tent opening.
"Did you hear that?"
"The horn?" Verna asked.
"Yes. It sounds like alarm horns."
Verna squinted in concentration. She turned her head to the side,
listening attentively.
"Yes, it does sound like alarm horns," she finally declared, "but it
doesn't have the right trace of magic through it. The enemy does that
often-tries to get us to act based on false alarms. We've been having more
and more lately."
Kahlan frowned. "We have? Why?"
"Why . . . what?"
Kahlan stood. "If we know they're false alarms, and they don't work,
then why would the Order increase the attempts? That makes no sense."
Verna's gaze roved about as as if searching in vain for an answer.
"Well, I don't know. I can't imagine. I'm no expert in the tactics of
warfare."
Cara turned to go have a look. "Maybe it's just some scouts coming back
in."
Kahlan turned her head, listening. She heard horses running, but that
wasn't so rare. It could be, as Cara suggested, scouts returning with
reports. But, by the sound of the hooves, the horses sounded big.
She heard men yelling. The clash of steel rang out-along with cries of
pain.
Kahlan drew her Galean royal sword as she started around the table.
Before any of them could get more than a step, the tent shuddered violently
as something crashed against its walls. For an instant, the whole thing
tipped at an impossible angle; then steel-tipped lances burst through the
canvas. With a rush of wind the tent collapsed around them.
The heavy canvas drove Kahlan to the ground as it caved in. She
couldn't get a grip on anything solid as the tent rolled her over and began
dragging her along. Hooves thundered past, pounding the ground right beside
her head.
She could smell lamp oil as it sloshed across the canvas. With a
whoosh, the oil and the tent ignited. Kahlan coughed on the smoke. She could
hear the crackle of flames. She could see nothing. She was trapped-rolled up
in the bucking tent as it slid across the ground.
Tightly shrouded in stiff canvas, Kahlan couldn't see anything. She
choked and gagged on the thick, acrid smoke burning her lungs. She pulled
frantically at the canvas, trying to disentangle herself, but as she bounced
and tumbled along the ground, she couldn't make any headway gaining her
liberty. The heat of flames close to her face ignited in her a sense of
panic. Her weariness forgotten, she kicked and struggled madly as she gasped
for air.
"Where are you!"
It was Cara's voice. It sounded close, as if she, too, was being
dragged along and strenuously engaged in her own fight for life. Cara was
smart enough not to shout Kahlan's name or title when surrounded by the
enemy; hopefully, Verna knew better, as well.
"Here!" Kahlan shouted in answer to Cara.
Kahlan's sword was trapped, pressed to her legs by the rolled canvas.
She managed to wiggle her left hand up onto the knife at her belt. She
yanked it free. She had to turn her face to try to keep away from the heat
of the oily flames. The smothering smoky blindness was terrifying.
With angry resolve, Kahlan stabbed at the canvas, punching her knife
through. Just then, the tent hit something and they were bounced into the
air. The hard landing knocked the wind from her lungs. A gasp pulled in
suffocating smoke. Again, Kahlan plunged her knife into the heavy canvas and
slashed an opening as her entire shroud erupted into flame.
She yelled again to Cara. "I can't get-"
The tent hit something solid. Her shoulder whacked hard into what felt
like a tree stump and she was flipped up and over the top of it. Had she not
been wearing her stiff leather armor, the blow surely would have broken her
shoulder. Crashing down on the other side, Kahlan tumbled free and across
the snow. She spread her arms to stop herself from rolling.
Kahlan saw General Meiffert reach up, seize a fistful of chain mail,
and unhorse the man who had been dragging her tent. The man's eyes gleamed
from behind long, curly, greasy hair. His stout body was covered with hides
and furs over chain mail and leather armor. He was missing his upper teeth.
As he lunged at the general, he lost his head, too.
Yet more Order troops wheeled their big warhorses, striking down at the
D'Harans scrambling both to escape the blows and to mount a defense. One of
the warhorses charged Kahlan's way, its rider leaning out, swinging a flail.
Kahlan sheathed both her knife and sword. She snatched up the lance of the
man who had been dragging the tent. She brought the long weapon up and spun
around just in time to
plant the butt end in a frozen rut and let the charging warhorse take
the steel-tipped point in his chest.
As the grinning Order soldier with the flail leaped from the staggering
horse, he drew his sword with his free hand. Kahlan didn't wait; as he was
still alighting on his feet, she spun while drawing her own sword and landed
a solid backhanded blow across the left side of his face.
Without pause, she dove under the legs of another horse to dodge a
blade when the horse's rider slashed down at her. She sprang up on the other
side and hacked the rider's leg open to the bone twice before turning just
in time to ram her sword up to its hilt into the chest of another horse
sidling in, trying to crush her against the first. As the animal reared with
a wild scream, Kahlan yanked her sword free and tumbled away just before the
big horse crashed to the ground. The rider's leg was trapped, and he was at
an awkward angle to defend himself Kahlan made the best of the opportunity.
For the moment, the immediate area was clear, enabling her to scramble
over to the tent where the general was on his knees, yanking at the snarled
mess of canvas and rope. More Order cavalry were thundering past,
threatening to trample Verna, Adie, and Cara still trapped in the tangle of
tent. At least the burning section had pulled away.
Kahlan worked beside General Meiffert to tug and cut the canvas. At
last they ripped open the heavy material, freeing Adie and Verna. The two
women were rolled up together, nearly in each another's arms. Adie's head
was bleeding, but she pushed away Kahlan's concerned hands. Verna emerged
from the cocoon and stumbled to her feet, still dizzy from the wild ride.
Kahlan helped Adie up. The scrape on her brow didn't look too serious.
General Meiffert pulled frantically at the canvas. Cara was still inside,
somewhere, but they no longer heard her.
Kahlan seized Verna by the arm. "I thought they were false alarms!"
"They were!" Verna insisted. "Obviously, they tricked us."
All around, soldiers were engaged in pitched battle with Imperial Order
cavalry. Men shouted in fury as they threw themselves into battle; some
screamed as they were wounded or killed; others called out orders,
commanding a defense, while the men on horseback ordered in their attack.
Some of the cavalry were setting fire to wagons, tents, and supplies.
Others charged past, trampling men and tents. Pairs of riders teamed up to
single out soldiers and take them down, then charged after another victim.
They were using the same tactics the D'Harans had used. They were doing
what Kahlan had taught them to do.
When a soldier, draped in filthy fur and weapons, cried out in bravado
as he rushed at her wielding a raised mace studded with glistening bloody
spikes, Kahlan took his hand off with a lightning-swift blow. He staggered
to a stop and stared a her in surprise. Without missing a beat, she drove
her sword into his gut and gave it a wrenching twist before pulling it free.
She turned her attention elsewhere as he crashed down atop a fire. His
screams melted in with all the others.
Kahlan fell to her knees once more to help General Meiffert free Cara.
He had found her amid the snare of rope and folds of canvas. From time to
time one of them had to turn to fight off sporadic attackers. Kahlan could
see Cara's red boots sticking out from under the canvas, but they were
still.
Tent line was tangled around Cara's legs. With Kahlan and the general
working together, they cut through the mire of rope and were finally able to
unroll Cara. She held her head as she moaned. She wasn't unconscious, but
she was groggy and unable to get her bearings. Kahlan found a lump in her
hair, at the right side of her head, but it wasn't bleeding.
Cara tried to sit up. Kahlan pressed her down on her back.
"Stay there. You were hit on the head. I don't want you to get up just
yet."
Kahlan looked over her shoulder and saw Verna, nearby, singling out
Imperial Order troops, each twitch of her hands casting a fiery spell to
blast them from their horses, or a focused edge of air as sharp as any
blade, yet more swift and sure, to slice them down. Without the gift
themselves, or one of the gifted to protect them, the enemy's simple armor
was no defense.
Kahlan caught Verna's attention and motioned for her help. Seizing the
woman's cloak at her shoulder, Kahlan pulled Verna close to speak into her
ear so as to be heard above the noise of battle.
"See how she is, will you? Help her?"
Verna nodded and then huddled at Cara's side as Kahlan and the general
turned to a fresh charge of cavalry. As one man galloped in close, wielding
his lance around, General Meiffert dodged the strike and then leaped up onto
the side of the horse, catching hold of the saddle's horn. With a grunt of
angry effort, he drove his sword through the rider. The surprised man clawed
at the blade in his soft middle. The general yanked his sword free, then
grabbed the man by the hair and dragged him out of the saddle. As the dying
man fell away, General Meiffert sprang up into the saddle, in his place.
Kahlan snatched up the fallen cavalryman's lance.
The big D'Haran general wheeled the huge horse into the way of charging
enemy cavalry, protecting Verna and Cara. Kahlan sheathed her sword and used
the lance to good effect against the warhorses. Horses, even well-trained
warhorses, didn't appreciate being stabbed in the chest. Many people
considered them just dumb beasts, but horses were smart enough to understand
that driving themselves onto a pointed lance was not what they wanted to do,
and reacted accordingly.
As horses bucked and reared when Kahlan stabbed them with her lance,
many of their riders fell. Some were injured from the fall onto scattered
equipment or the frozen ground, but most came under the swarming attack of
the D'Harans.
From atop his Imperial Order warhorse, General Meiffert commanded his
men to form a defensive line. After directing them into place, he charged
off, roaring a string of orders as he went. He didn't tell his men who to
protect, so as not to betray Kahlan to the enemy, but they quickly saw what
it was he intended them to do. D'Harans grabbed up the enemy lances, or came
running with their own pikes, and soon there was a bristling line of
steel-tipped pole weapons presenting a deadly obstacle to any approaching
cavalry.
Kahlan called out orders to men on either side, and, as she joined the
line, commanded them into position to block an Imperial Order cavalry unit
of about two hundred who were trying to make good their escape. The enemy
might have been emulating the raids the D'Haran cavalry had made on the
Imperial Order's camp, but Kahlan wasn't about to allow them to succeed at
it. She intended them to fail.
The enemy's horses balked when they encountered a solid line of
advancing pikes brandished by men shouting battle cries. Soldiers coming
from behind the Order cavalry rained down arrows. D'Harans dragged trapped
riders from their saddles, down into the bloody hand-to-hand fighting on the
ground.
"I don't want one of them escaping camp alive!" she yelled to her men.
"No mercy!"
"No mercy!" every D'Haran within earshot called out in answer.
The enemy, so confident and arrogant as they had charged in, relishing
the prospect of spilling D' Haran blood, were now nothing more than pathetic
men in the ungainly grip of despair as the D'Harans hacked them to death.
Kahlan left the soldiers with the lances and pikes, now that a
defensive line had been established and the enemy was trapped, and ran back
through the fires and choking smoke to find Verna, Adie, and Cara. She had
to dodge wounded soldiers of both armies on the ground. The fallen attackers
who still had fight in them snatched at her ankles. She had to stab several
who tried to rise up to grab her. Others afoot who suddenly appeared, she
had to cut down.
The enemy knew who she was, or at least they were pretty sure. Jagang
had seen her, and no doubt had described the Mother Confessor to his men.
Kahlan was sure to have a heavy price on her head.
There seemed to be Imperial Order men scattered throughout the camp.
She doubted there had been an attack by foot soldiers; they were probably
cavalrymen who had lost their mounts. Horses were often easier moving
targets to hit with arrows and spears than were men. In the gathering
darkness it was hard to make out enemy soldiers. They were able to sneak
through the camp undiscovered as they hunted targets of value, such as
officers, or maybe even the Mother Confessor.
When the lurking enemy spotted Kahlan making her way through the chaos,
they came out from their hiding places to go after her with wild abandon.
Others, she came upon and surprised. Remembering not only her father's
training, but Richard's admonition, Kahlan cut fiercely into the enemy
soldiers. She gave them no opening; no chance; no mercy.