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irony?"
"Well," he said as he shrugged, "what is it we're fighting for?"
"Nathan, you know very well what we're fighting for."
"Yes, I do. But do you? Tell me, then, what it is we're struggling to
protect, to preserve, to insure remains alive?"
"The Creator's gift of magic, of course. We fight to see that it
continues to exist in the world. We struggle for those who are born with it
to live, for them to learn to use their ability to its full extent. We fight
for each to have and to celebrate their unique ability."
"I think that's kind of ironic, don't you? The very thing you think is
worth fighting for is what you feared. The Imperial Order proclaims that
it's not in the best interest of mankind for a gifted individual to possess
magic, so that unique ability must be stripped away from them. They claim
that, since all do not have this ability in identical and equal measure,
it's dangerous for some to have it--that man must cast aside the belief that
a man's life is his own to live. That those who were born with magic must
therefore be expunged from the world in order to make the world a better
place for those who don't have such ability.
"And yet, you worked under that very premise, acted on those same
wicked beliefs. You locked me away because of my ability. You saw what I am
able to do, that others cannot do, as an evil birthright that could not be
allowed to be among mankind.
"And yet, you work to preserve that very thing which you fear in me--my
unique ability--in others. You work to allow everyone born with magic to
have the inalienable right to their own life, to be the best of what they
can be with their own ability .. . and yet you locked me away to deny me
that very same right."
"Just because I want the Creator's wolves to run free to hunt, as they
were intended, doesn't mean that I want to be their dinner."
Nathan leaned toward her. "I am not a wolf. I am a human being. You
tried, convicted, and sentenced me to life in your prison for being who I
was born, for what you feared I might do, simply because I had the ability.
You then soothed your own inner conflict by making that prison plush in an
attempt to convince yourself that you were kind-- all the while professing
to believe that we must fight to allow future people to be who they are.
"You qualified your prison as right because it was lavish, in order to
mask from yourself the nature of what you were advocating. Look around,
Ann." He swept his arm out at the stone. "This is what you were advocating
for those you decided did not have the right to their own life. You decided
the same as the Order, based on an ability you did not like. You decided
that some, because of their greater potential, must be sacrificed to the
good of those less than they. No matter how you decorated your dungeon, this
is what it looks like from the inside."
Ann gathered her thoughts, as well as her voice, before she spoke. "I
thought I had come to understand something like that while I sat all alone
down here, but I realize now that I hadn't, really. All those years I felt
bad for locking you away, but I never really examined my rationale for doing
so.
"You're right, Nathan. I believed you held the potential for great
harm. I should have helped you to understand what was right so you could act
rationally, rather than expect the worst from you and lock you away. I'm
sorry, Nathan."
He put his hands on his hips. "Do you really mean it, Ann?"
She nodded, unable to look up at him, as her eyes filled with tears.
She always expected honesty from everyone else, but she had not been honest
with herself. "Yes, Nathan, I really do."
Confession over, she went to her bench and slumped down. "Thank you for
coming, Nathan. I'll not trouble you to come down here again. I will take my
just punishment without complaint. If you don't mind,
I think I'd like to be alone right now to pray and consider the weight
on my heart."
"You can do that later. Now get up off your bottom, on your feet, and
pick up your things. We have matters to attend to and we have to get going."
Ann looked up with a frown. "What?"
"We have important things to do. Come on, woman. We're wasting time. We
need to get going. We're on the same side in this struggle, Ann. We need to
act like it and work together toward preserving our causes." He leaned down
toward her. "Unless you've decided to retire to sit around the rest of your
life. If not, then let's be on our way. We have trouble."
Ann hopped down from the stone bench. "Trouble? What sort of trouble."
"Prophecy trouble."
"Prophecy? There is trouble with a prophecy? What trouble? What
prophecy?"
Fists on his nips, Nathan fixed her with a scowl. "I can't tell you
about such things. Prophecy is not meant for the unenlightened."
Ann pursed her lips, about to launch into scolding him up one side and
down the other, when she caught the smile working at the edges of his mouth.
It caught her up in a smile of her own.
"What's happened?" she asked in the tone of voice friends used when
they had decided that past wrongs were recognized and matters now set on a
correct path.
"Ann, you'll not believe it when I tell you," Nathan complained. "It's
that boy, again."
"Richard?"
"What other boy do you know who can get in the kind of trouble only
Richard can get into."
"Well, I no longer think of Richard as a boy."
Nathan sighed. "I suppose not, but it's hard when you're my age to
think of one so young as a man."
"He's a man," Ann assured him.
"Yes, I guess he is." Nathan grinned. "And, he's a Rahl."
"What sort of trouble has Richard gotten himself into this time?"
Nathan's good humor evaporated. "He's walked off the edge of prophecy."
Ann screwed up her face. "What are you talking about? What's he done?"
"I'm telling you, Ann, that boy has walked right off the edge of
prophecy itself--walked right off into a place in prophecy where prophecy
itself doesn't exist."
Ann recognized that Nathan was sincerely troubled, but he was making no
sense. In part, that was why some people were afraid of him. He often gave
people the impression he was talking gibberish when he was talking about
things that no one but he could even understand. Sometimes no one but a
prophet could truly understand completely what he grasped. With his eyes,
the eyes of a prophet, he could see things that no one else could.
She had spent a lifetime working with prophecy, though, and so she
could understand, perhaps better than most, at least some of his mind, some
of what he could grasp.
"How can you know of such a prophecy, Nathan, if it doesn't exist? I
don't understand. Explain it to me."
"There are libraries here, at the People's Palace, that contain some
valuable books of prophecy that I've never had a chance to see before. While
I had reason to suspect that such prophecies might exist, I was never
certain they actually did, or what they might say. I've been studying them
since I've been here and I've come across links to other known prophecy we
had down in the vaults at the Palace of the Prophets. These prophecies,
here, fill in some important gaps in those we already know about.
"Most importantly, I found an altogether new branch of prophecy I've
never seen before that explains why and how I've been blind to some of
what's been going on. From studying the forks and inversions off of this
branch, I've discovered that Richard has taken a series of links that follow
down a particular pathway of prophecy that leads to oblivion, to something
that, as far as I can tell, doesn't even exist."
One hand on a hip, the other tracing invisible lines in the air, Nathan
paced the small room as he talked. "This new link alludes to things I've
never seen before, branches that I've always known must be there, but were
missing. These branches are exceedingly dangerous prophecies that have been
kept here, in secret. I can see why. Even I, had I seen them years ago,
might have misinterpreted them. These new branches refer to voids of some
sort. Since they are voids, their nature can't be known; such a
contradiction can't exist.
"Richard has gone into this area of void, where prophecy can't see him,
can't help him, and worse, can't help us. But more than not seeing him with
prophecy, it's as if where he is and what he is doing do not exist.
"Richard is dealing in something that is capable of ending everything
we know."
Ann knew that Nathan would not exaggerate about something of this
nature. While she was in the dark about precisely what he was talking about,
the essence of it gave her the cold sweats.
"What can we do about it?"
Nathan threw up his arms. "We have to go in there and get him. We have
to bring him back into the world that exists."
"You mean, the world that prophecy says exists."
Nathan's scowl was back. "That's what I said, isn't it? We have to
somehow get him back on the thread of prophecy where he shows up."
Ann cleared her throat. "Or?"
Nathan snatched up the lamp, then her pack. "Or, he will cease to be
part of viable lines of prophecy, never to be involved with matters of this
world again."
"You mean, if we don't get him back from wherever his is, he will die?"
Nathan gave her a curious look. "Have I been talking to the walls? Of
course he will die! If that boy isn't in prophecy, if he breaks all the
links to prophecy where he plays a role, then he voids all those lines of
prophecy where he exists. If he does that, then they become false prophecy
and those branches with word of him will never come to pass. None of the
other links contain any reference to him--because in the origin of those
links, he dies, first."
"And what happens on those links that don't contain him?"
Nathan took up her hand as he pulled her toward the door. "On those
links, a shadow falls over everyone. Everyone who lives, anyway. It will be
a very long and very dark age."
"Wait," Ann said, pulling him to a halt.
She returned to the stone bench and placed the Rada'Han in the center.
"I don't have the power to destroy this. I think maybe it should be locked
away."
Nathan nodded his approval. "We will lock the doors and instruct the
guards that it is to remain in here, behind the shields, for all time."
Ann held a warning finger up before him. "Don't get the idea that just
because you're not wearing a collar I will tolerate misbehavior."
Nathan's grin returned. He didn't come right out and agree. Before he
went through the door, he turned back to her.
"By the way, have you been talking to Verna through your journey book?"
"Yes, a little. She's with the army and pretty busy, right now. They're
defending the passes into D'Hara. Jagang has begun his siege."
"Well, from what I've been able to gather from military commanders
here, at the palace, the passes are formidable and will hold for a while, at
least." He leaned toward her. "You have to send a message to her, though.
Tell her that when an empty wagon rolls into their line, to let it through."
Ann made a face. "What does that mean?"
"Prophecy is not meant for the unenlightened. Just tell her."
"All right," Ann said with breathless difficulty as Nathan pulled her
through the tight doorway. "But I'd best not tell her you're the one who
said it, or she will likely ignore the advice. She thinks you're daft, you
know."
"She just never got a chance to come to know me very well, that's all."
He glanced back. "What with me being unjustly locked away, and all."
Ann wanted to say that perhaps Verna knew Nathan all too well, but
decided better of it right then. As Nathan started to turn toward the outer
door, Ann snatched his sleeve.
"Nathan, what else about this prophecy you found aren't you telling me?
This prophecy where Richard disappears into oblivion."
She knew Nathan well enough to know by his agitation that he hadn't
told her everything, that he thought he was being gallant by sparing her
worry. With a sober expression, he gazed into her eyes for a time before he
finally spoke.
"There is a Slide on that fork of prophecy."
Ann frowned as she turned her eyes up in thought. "A Slide. A Slide,"
she muttered to herself, trying to recall the name. It sounded familiar. "A
Slide . . ." She snapped her fingers. "A Slide." Her eyes went wide. "Dear
Creator."
"I don't think the Creator had anything to do with this."
Ann impatiently waved in protest. "That can't be. There has to be
something wrong with this new prophecy you found. It has to be defective.
Slides were created in the great war. There couldn't be a Slide on this link
of prophecy--don't you see? The prophecy must be out of phase and long ago
expired." Ann chewed her lower lip as her mind raced.
"It isn't out of phase. Don't you think that was my first thought, too?
You think me an amateur at this? I worked through the chronology a hundred
times. I ran every chart and calculation I ever learned--even some I
invented for the task. They all came out with the same root. Every link came
out in order. The prophecy is in phase, chronology, and all its aspects are
aligned."
"Then it's a false link," Ann insisted. "Slides were conjured
creatures. They were sterile. They couldn't reproduce."
"I'm telling you," Nathan growled, "there is a Slide on this fork with
Richard and it's a viable prophetic link."
"They couldn't have survived to be here." Ann was sure of what she was
saying. Nathan knew more about prophecy than she, there was no doubt of
that, but this was one area where she knew exactly what she was talking
about--this was her area of expertise. "Slides weren't able to beget
children."
He was giving her one of those looks she didn't like. "I'm telling you,
a Slide walks the world again."
Ann tsked. "Nathan, soul stealers can't reproduce."
"The prophecy says he wasn't born, but born again a Slide."
Ann's flesh began to tingle. She stared at him a time before finding
her voice. "For three thousand years there have been no wizards born with
both sides of the gift but Richard. There is no way anyone ..."
Ann paused. He was watching her, watching her finally realize what had
to be. "Dear Creator," she whispered.
"I told you, the Creator had nothing to do with this. The Sisters of
the Dark mothered him."
Shaken to her core, Ann could think of nothing to say.
There was no worse news she could have heard.
There was no defense against a Slide.
Every soul was naked to a Slide's attack.
Outside the second door, Nyda waited in the hall, her face as grim as
ever, but not as grim as Ann's. The hall was dark but for the dim light
coming from the still flames of a few candles. No breath of wind ever made
it this deep into the palace. The only color among the dark rock soaking up
that small bit of light was the blood red of Nyda's red leather.
Being pulled along by the hand, feeling a jumble of emotions, Ann
leaned toward the woman and vented a pent-up fiery scowl. "You told him what
I said to tell him, didn't you?"
"Of course," Nyda answered as she fell into step behind the two of
them.
Turning halfway around, Ann shook a finger at the Mord-Sith. "I'll make
you sorry you told him."
Nyda smiled. "Oh, I don't think so."
Ann rolled her eyes and turned back to Nathan. "By the way, what are
you doing wearing a sword? You, of all people--a wizard. Why are you wearing
a sword?"
Nathan looked hurt. "Why, Nyda thinks I look dashing with a sword."
Ann fixed her eyes on the dark passageway ahead. "I just bet she does."
Standing at the edge of a narrow rim of rock, Richard looked down on
the ragged gray wisps of clouds below. Out in the open, the cool damp air
that drifted over him carried the aromas of balsam trees, moss, wet leaves,
and saturated soil. He inhaled deeply the fragrant reminders of home. The
rock, mostly granite, cracked and weather-worn into pillowed blocks, looked
much the same as that in his Hartland woods. The mountains, however, were
far larger. The slope rising up behind him was dizzying.
To the west before him, far below, lay a vast stretch of fractured
ground and ever-rising rugged hills carpeted in forests. To his left and
right, because he knew what he was looking for, he could just make out the
strip of ground, devoid of trees, where the boundary had been. Farther off
to the west rose up the lesser mountains, mostly barren, that bordered the
wasteland. That wasteland, and the place called the Pillars of Creation, was
no longer visible. Richard was happy to have left it far behind.
The sky was empty of black-tipped races--for the moment, anyway. The
huge birds most likely knew that Richard, Kahlan, Cara, Jennsen, Tom, and
Owen were heading west.
Richard had shot the last five races as they had begun gathering in
their circling behavior, surprising them by being high up the side of the
mountain above the others in his group, closer to where the races flew.
After killing the races, Richard had led the rest of his small company into
denser woods. He didn't think that the races they'd been seeing up until
then had spotted them since. Now that they were traveling through forests of
towering trees Richard thought that, if he was careful, they might be able
to lose their watchers.
If this man, Nicholas, had seen them through the eyes of those five
races, then he knew they had been headed west. But, now that they were
hidden, he couldn't assume that they would continue west. If Richard could
disappear from where the birds would look for him, and failed to appear
where they would expect him, then Nicholas might have second thoughts. He
might realize they could have changed direction and gone north, or south.
Nicholas might then begin to realize that they had used that period of
confusion to run away somewhere else, to flee him.
It was possible that Richard could keep them hidden under the cover of
the trees and in so doing keep Nicholas from discovering them. Richard
didn't want the man to know where they'd gone, or to have any idea where
they were at any given time. It was hardly a certainty that he could deceive
Nicholas in this way, but Richard intended to try.
Shielding his eyes with the flat of his hand, Richard scanned the rise
of dense forest before them in order to get the lay of the land fixed in his
mind before he headed back in under the thick vegetation where the others
waited. The trailers of clouds below were but the tattered castoffs of the
churning blanket of gloom above them. The mountainside ascended sharply into
that wet overcast.
As Richard evaluated the rock, the slope, and the trees, he finally
found what he sought. He studied the ascent of the mountain one last time
before scanning the sky again to make sure it was clear. Seeing no races--or
any other birds, for that matter--he headed in to where the others waited.
He knew that just because he didn't see any birds didn't mean that they
weren't there watching him. There could be a few dozen races sitting in
trees where he would likely never spot them. But, for the moment, he was
still where they would expect him, so he wasn't greatly concerned.
He was about to do what they would not expect.
Richard climbed back up the slick bank of moss, leaves, and wet roots.
If he fell, he would have only the one chance to grab the small ledge where
he'd been standing before he would tumble out into the clear air and a drop
of several thousand feet. The thought of that drop made him hold tighter to
the roots to help him climb, and made him test carefully every score in the
rock where he placed his boot before committing his weight to it.
At the top of the bank he ducked under overhanging branches of scrawny
mountain maple that grew in the understory of hardwoods leaning out beside
the towering pines in an effort to capture the light. Leaves of the ash and
birch rising above the mountain maple collected the drixzle, until their
leaves had as much as they could hold and released it to patter down in fat
drops that slapped the lower leaves above Richard's head. When a light
breeze caught those upper leaves, they released their load to rain down in
sudden but brief torrents.
Stooping under low-spreading branches of fir trees, Richard followed
his track back through thickets of huckleberry into the more open ground of
the hushed woods beneath the thick canopy of ancient evergreens. Pine
needles had been woven by the wind into sprawling mats that cushioned his
steps. Spiraling webs hung by spiders to catch the small bugs that zigzagged
all about had instead netted the mist and were now dotted with shimmering
drops of water, like jeweled necklaces on display.
Back in the sheltering cover of rock and the thick growth of young
spruce, Kahlan stood when she saw Richard coming. When she stood, everyone
else then saw him, and came to their feet as well. Richard ducked in under
the wispy green branches.
"Did you see any races, Lord Rahl?" Owen asked, clearly nervous about
the predators.
"No," Richard told him as he picked up his pack and slung it over a
shoulder. He slipped his other arm beneath the second strap as he pulled the
pack up onto his back. "That doesn't mean they didn't see me, though."
Richard hooked his bow over the back of his left shoulder, along with a
waterskin.
"Well," Owen said, wringing his hands, "we can still hope they won't
know where we are."
Richard paused to look at the man. "Hope is not a strategy."
As the rest of them all started collecting their things from the brief
break, hooking gear on belts and shouldering packs, Richard drew Cara by the
arm out of the cover of small trees and pulled her close.
"See that rise through there?" he asked as he held her near him so she
could see where he was pointing. "With the strip of open ground that passes
in front of the young oak with the broken dead limb hanging down?"
Cara nodded. "Just after where the ground rises and goes over that
trickle of water running down the face of the rock, staining it green?"
"That's the spot. I want you to follow up over that area, then cut to
the right, taking that cleft up--that one there beyond the split in the
rock, there--and see if you can scout a trail up to the next shelf up above
these trees here."
Cara nodded. "Where will you be?"
"I'm going to take the rest of us up to the first break in the slope.
We'll be there. Come back and tell us if you find a way over the
projection."
Cara hoisted up her pack onto her back and then picked up the stout
staff Richard had cut for her.
"I didn't know that Mord-Sith could cut trails," Tom said.
"Mord-Sith can't," Cara said. "I, Cara, can. Lord Rahl taught me."
As she vanished into the trees, Richard watched her walk. She moved
gracefully, disturbing little as she made her way into the trackless woods.
She moved with an economy of effort that would conserve her energy. It had
not always been so; she had learned well the lessons he had given her.
Richard was pleased to see that the lessons had stuck and his efforts had
not been wasted.
Owen came forward, looking agitated. "But Lord Rahl, we can't go that
way." He waggled a hand back over his shoulder. "The trail goes that way.
That is the only way up and through the pass. There lies the way down, and
with it the way back up, now that the boundary is gone. It's not easy, but
it's the only way."
"It's the only way you know of. By how well that trail looks to be
traveled, I think it's the only way Nicholas knows of as well. It appears to
be the way the Order troops move in and out of Bandakar.
"If we go that way the races will be watching. If, on the other hand,
we don't show up, then/he won't know where we went. I want to keep it that
way from now on. I'm tired of playing mouse to his owl."
Richard let Kahlan lead them up through the woods, following the
natural route of the land when the way ahead was reasonably evident. When
she was in doubt she would glance back at him for direction. Richard would
look where she was to go, or nod in the direction he wanted her to take, or,
in a few cases, he needed to give her instruction.
By the lay of the land, Richard was pretty sure that there was an
ancient trail up through the mountain pass. That pass, that from afar looked
like a notch in the wall of mountains, was in reality no mere notch but a
broad area twisting as it rose back up between the mountains. Richard didn't
think that the path that the Bandakar people used to banish people through
the boundary was the only way through that pass. With the boundary in place
it may well have been, but the boundary was no longer there.
From what he'd seen so far, Richard suspected that there once had been
a route that in ancient times had been the main way in and out. Here and
there he was able to discern depressions that he believed were remnants of
that ancient, abandoned route.
While it was always possible that the old passage had been abandoned
for good reason, such as a landslide that made it impassable, he wanted to
know if that once traveled way was still usable. It would, at the least,
since it was in a different part of the mountains than the known path, take
them away from where the races were likely to be looking for them.
Jennsen walked up close beside Richard when the way through towering
pines was open enough. She tugged Betty along by her rope, keeping her from
stopping to sample plants along the way.
"Sooner or later the races will find us, don't you think?" Jennsen
asked. "I mean, if we don't show up where they expect to find us, then don't
you think they will search until they do find us? You were the one who said
that from the sky they could cover great distances and search us out."
"Maybe," Richard said. "But it will be hard to spot us in the woods if
we use our heads and stay hidden. In forests they can't search nearly as
much area as they could in the same amount of time out in the wasteland. In
open ground they could spot us miles away. Here, they will have a hard time
of it unless they're really close and we are careless.
"By the time we don't show up where the known trail makes it up into
Bandakar, they will have a vast area they suddenly will need to search and
they won't have any idea which direction to look. That compounds the problem
for them in finding us.
"I don't think that the viewing Nicholas gets through their eyes can be
very good, or he wouldn't need to gather the races now and again to circle.
If we can stay out of sight long enough, then we'll be among the people up
in Bandakar and then Nicholas, through the eyes of the races, will have a
hard, if not impossible, time picking us out from others."
Jennsen thought it over as they entered a stand of birch. Betty went
the wrong way around a tree and Jennsen had to stop to untangle her rope.
They all hunched their shoulders against the wet when a breeze brought down
a soaking shower.
"Richard," Jennsen asked in a voice barely above a whisper as she
caught back up with him, "what are you going to do when we get there?"
"I'm going to get the antidote so I don't die."
"I know that." Jennsen pulled a sodden ringlet of red hair back from
her face. "What I mean is, what are you going to do about Owen's people?"
Each breath he drew brought a slight stitch of pain deep in his lungs.
"I'm not sure, yet, just what I can do."
Jennsen walked in silence for a moment. "But you will try to help them,
won't you?"
Richard glanced over at his sister. "Jennsen, they're threatening to
kill me. They've proven that it isn't an empty threat."
She shrugged uncomfortably. "I know, but they're desperate." She
glanced ahead to make sure that Owen wouldn't hear. "They didn't know what
else to do to save themselves. They aren't like you. They never fought
anyone before."
Richard took a deep breath, the pain pulling tight across his chest
when he did so. "You'd never fought anyone before, either. When you thought
I was trying to kill you, as our father had, and you believed that I was
responsible for your mother's death, what did you do? I don't mean were you
correct about me, but what did you do in response to what you believed was
happening?"
"I resolved that if I wanted to live I would have to kill you before
you killed me."
"Exactly. You didn't poison someone and tell them to do it or they
would die. You decided that your life was worth living and that no one else
had the right to take it from you.
"When you are willing to meekly sacrifice your ultimate value, your
life, the only one you will ever have, to any thug who on a whim decides to
take it from you, then you can't be helped. You may be able to be rescued
for one day, but the next day another will come and you will again willingly
prostrate yourself before him. You have placed the value of the life of your
killer above your own.
"When you grant to anyone who demands it the right of life or death
over you, you have already become a willing slave in search of any butcher
who will have you."
She walked in silence for a time, thinking about what he'd said.
Richard noticed that she moved through the woods as he had taught Cara to
move. She was nearly as at home in the woods as he was.
"Richard." Jennsen swallowed. "I don't want those people to be hurt any
more. They've already suffered enough."
"Tell that to Kahlan if I die from their poison."
When they reached the meeting place, Cara wasn't there yet. They all
were ready for a brief rest. The spot, a break in the slope back against
granite that rose up steeply to the next projection in the mountain, was
protected high overhead by huge pines and closer down by brush. After so
long out in the heat of the desert, none of them were yet accustomed to the
wet chill. While they spread out to find rocks for seats so they wouldn't
have to sit in the wet leaf litter, Betty happily sampled the tasty weeds.
Owen sat to the far side, away from Betty.
Kahlan sat close to Richard on a small lump of rock. "How are you
doing? You look like you have a headache."
"Nothing to be done about it for now," he said.
Kahlan leaned closer. The warmth of her felt good against his side.
"Richard," she whispered, "remember Nicci's letter?"
"What about it?"
"Well, we assumed that this boundary into Bandakar being down was the
reason for the first warning beacon. Maybe we're wrong."
"What makes you think so?"
"No second beacon." She pointed with her chin off to the northwest. "We
saw the first way back down there. We're a lot closer to the place where the
boundary was and we haven't spotted a second beacon."
"Just as well," he said. "That was where the races were waiting for
us."
He remembered well when they found the little statue. The races were
perched in trees all around. Richard hadn't known what they were at the
time, other than they were large birds he'd never seen before. The instant
Cara picked up the statue, the black-tipped races had all suddenly taken to
wing. There had been hundreds.
"Yes," Kahlan said, "but without the second beacon, maybe this isn't
the problem that we thought caused the first."
"You're assuming that the second beacon will be for me--that I'm the
one it will be meant for and so we would have seen it. Nicci said that the
second beacon is for the one who has the power to fix the breach in the
seal. Maybe that's not me."
Looking at first startled by the idea, Kahlan thought it over. "I'm not
sure if I'd be pleased about that or not." She leaned tighter against him
and hooked an arm around his thigh. "But no matter who is meant to be the
one who can seal the breach again, the one who's supposed to restore the
boundary, I don't think they will be able to do so."
Richard ran his fingers back through his wet hair. "Well, if I'm the
one this dead wizard once believed could restore the boundary, he's wrong. I
don't know how to do such a thing."
"But don't you see, Richard? Even if you did know how, I don't think
you could."
Richard looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Jumping to
conclusions and letting your imagination get carried away, again?"
"Richard, face it, the boundary failed because of what I did. That's
why the warning beacon was for me--because I caused the seal to fail. You
aren't going to try to deny that, are you?"
"No, but we have a lot to learn before we know what's really going on."
"I freed the chimes," she said. "It's not going to do us any good to
try to hide from that fact."
Kahlan had used ancient magic to save his life. She had freed the
chimes in order to heal him. She'd had no time to spare; he would have died
within moments if she had not acted.
Moreover, she'd had no idea that the chimes would unleash destruction
upon the world. She hadn't known they had been created three thousand years
before from underworld powers as a weapon designed to consume magic. She had
been told only that she must use them to save Richard's life.
Richard knew what it felt like to be convinced of the facts behind
events and to have no one believe him. He knew she was now feeling that same
frustration.
"You're right that we can't hide from it--if it is a fact. But right
now we don't know that it is. For one thing, the chimes have been banished
back to the underworld."
"And what about what Zedd told us, about how once the destructive
cascade of magic begins--which it did--then there is no telling if it can be
stopped even if the chimes are banished. There is no experience in such an
event upon which to base predictions."
Richard didn't have an answer for her, and was at a disadvantage
because he didn't have her education in magic. He was saved from having to
speculate when Cara came in through a tight patch of young balsam trees. She
pulled her pack off her shoulders and let it slip to the ground as she sat
on a rock facing Richard.
"You were right. We can get through there. It looks to me like I can
see a way to continue on up from the ledge."
"Good," Richard said as he stood. "Let's get going. The clouds are
getting darker. I think we need to find a place to stop for the night."
"I spotted a place under the ledge, Lord Rahl. I think it might be a
dry place to stay."
"Good." Richard hoisted her pack. "I'll carry this for you for a while,
let you have a break."
Cara nodded her appreciation, falling into line as they moved through
the tight trees and immediately had to start to climb up the steeply rising
ground. There was enough exposed rock and roots to provide good steps and
handholds. Where some of those steps were tall, Richard stretched down to
give Kahlan a hand.
Tom helped Jennsen and passed Betty up a few times, even though the
goat was better at scrambling up over rock than they were. Richard thought
he was doing it more for Jennsen's peace of mind than Betty's. Jennsen
finally told Tom that Betty could climb on her own.
Betty proved her right, bleating down at Tom after effortlessly
clambering up a particularly trying spot.
"Why don't you help me up, then," Tom said to the goat.
Jennsen smiled along with Richard and Kahlan. Owen just watched as he
skirted the other way around the rock. He was afraid of Betty. Cara finally
asked for her pack back, having entertained long enough the possibility of
being considered frail.
Shortly after the rain started, they found the low slit of an opening
under a prominent ledge, just as Cara had said they would. It wasn't a cave,
but a spot where a slab from the face of the mountain above had broken off
and fallen over. Boulders on the ground held the slab up enough to create a
pocket beneath. It wasn't large, but Richard thought they would all fit
under it for the night.
The ground was dirty, scattered with collected leaf litter and forest
debris of bark, moss, and a lot of bugs. Tom and Richard used branches
they'd cut to quickly sweep the place out. They then laid down a clean bed
of evergreen boughs to keep them up off the water that did run in.
The rain was starting to come down harder, so they all squatted down
and hurried to move in under the rock. It wasn't a comfortable-looking spot,
being too low for them to stand in, but it was fairly dry.
Richard dared not let them have a fire, now that they had left the
regular trail, lest the smoke be spotted by the races. They had a cold
supper of meats, leftover bannock, and dried goods. They were all exhausted
from climbing all day, and while they ate engaged in only a bit of small
talk. Betty was the only one with enough room to stand. She pushed up
against Richard until she got his attention and a rub.
As darkness slowly enveloped the woods, they watched the rain fall
outside their cozy shelter, listening to the soft sound, all no doubt
wondering what lay ahead in a strange empire that had been sealed away for
three thousand years. Troops from the Imperial Order would be there, too.
As Richard sat watching out into the dark rain, listening to the sounds
of the occasional animal in the distance, Kahlan cuddled up beside him,
laying her head on his lap. Betty went deeper into the shelter and lay down
with Jennsen.
Kahlan, under the comfort of his hand resting tenderly on her shoulder,
was asleep in moments. As weary as he was from the day's hard journey,
Richard wasn't sleepy.
His head hurt and the poison deep within him made each breath catch. He
wondered what would strike him down first, the power of his gift that was
giving him the headaches, or Owen's poison.
He wondered, too, just how he was going to satisfy the demands of Owen
and his men to free their empire so that he could have the antidote. The
five of them, he, Kahlan, Cara, Jennsen, and Tom, hardly seemed the army
needed to drive the Order out of Bandakar.
If he didn't, and if he couldn't get to the antidote, his life was
coming to a close. This very well could be his final journey.
It seemed like he had just gotten back together with Kahlan after being
separated from her for half his life. He wanted to be with her. He wanted
the two of them to be able to be alone.
If he didn't think of something, all they had in each other, all they
had ahead of them, was just about over. And that was without even
considering the headaches of the gift.
Or the Imperial Order capturing the Wizard's Keep.
Richard gripped the edge of the rock at the face of the opening to help
pull himself up and out from the dark hole in the abrupt rise of granite
before them. Once out, he brushed the sharp little granules of rock from his
hands as he turned to the others.
"It goes through. It isn't easy, but it goes through."
He saw a dubious look on Tom's face, and a look of consternation on
Owen's. Betty, her floppy ears perked ahead in what Richard thought could
only be a goat frown, peered down into the narrow chasm and bleated.
"But I don't think we can," Owen complained. "What if..."
"We get stuck?" Richard asked.
Owen nodded.
"Well, you have an advantage over Tom and me," Richard said as he
picked up his pack from nearby to the side where he'd left it. "You're not
quite as big. If I made it through and back, then you can make it, Owen."
Owen waved a hand up the steep ascent to his right. "But what about
that way? Couldn't we just go around?"
"I don't like going into dark, narrow places like this, either,"
Richard said. "But if we go around that way we have to go out on the ledges.
You heard what Cara said; it's narrow and dangerous. If it were the
only way it would be another matter, but it's not.
"The races could spot us out there. Worse, if they wanted, they could
attack us and we could easily fall or be forced over the edge. I don't like
going in places like this, but I don't think I'd like to be out there on a
windblown ledge no wider than the sole of my boot, with a fall of thousands
of feet straight down if I make one slip, and then have one of those races
suddenly show up to rip into me with their talons or those sharp beaks of
theirs. Would you prefer that?"
Owen licked his lips as he bent at the waist and looked into the narrow
passageway. "Well, I guess you're right."
"Richard," Kahlan asked in a whisper as the rest of them started taking
off their packs so they could more easily fit through, "if this was a trail,
as you suspect, why isn't there a better way through?"
"I think that sometime only in the last few thousand years this huge
section of the mountain broke away and slid down, coming to rest at this
angle, leaving a narrow passageway beneath it." He pointed up. "See up
there? I think this entire portion down here used to be up there. I think
it's now sitting right where the trail used to be."
"And there's no other way but this cave or the ledges?"
"I'm not saying that. I believe there's other old routes, but we would
have to backtrack for most of a day to take the last fork I saw, and then
there isn't any guarantee with that one, either. If you really want, though,
we can go back and try."
Kahlan shook her head. "We can't afford to lose any time. We need to
get to the antidote."
Richard nodded. He didn't know how he was supposed to rid an entire
empire of the Imperial Order so they could get to the antidote, but he had a
few ideas. He needed to get the antidote; he saw no reason he had to play by
Owen's rules--or the Order's.
Kahlan gave the narrow, dark tunnel another look. "You're sure there
aren't any snakes in there?"
"I didn't see any."
Tom handed Richard his sword. "I'll go last," he said. "If you make it
through, I can."
Richard nodded as he laid the baldric over his shoulder. He turned the
scabbard at his hip in order to clear the rock and then started in. He
hugged his pack to his abdomen as he crouched to make it into the small
space. The slab of rock above him lay at an angle, so that he couldn't
remain upright, but had to twist sideways and back as he went into the
darkness. The farther in he went, the darker it became. As the others
followed him into the narrow passage, it blocked much of the light, making
it even darker.
The rains of recent days had finally ended, but runnels and runoff
continued to flow from the mountain. Their wading through ankle-deep water
standing in the bottom of the cavern sent echoes through the narrow
confines. The waves in the water played gloomy light along the wet walls,
providing at least some illumination.
The thought occurred to him that if he was a snake, this would make a
good spot to call home. The thought also occurred to him that if Kahlan,
right behind him, happened upon a snake in such cramped quarters, she would
not be pleased with him in the least for taking her in.
Things that were frightening outside were different when you couldn't
maneuver, couldn't run. Panic always seemed to lurk in tight places.
As it became darker, Richard had to feel his way along the cold stone.
In places where water seeped down the rock, the walls were slimy. In some
spots there was mud, in other places dry rock to walk on. Most of it,
though, was wet muck. Spongy leaves had collected in some of the irregular
low places.
By the smell, it was obvious that some animal had died and was
decomposing somewhere in the sodden grotto. He heard moans and complaints
from behind when the rest of them encountered the stench. Betty bleated her
unhappiness. Jennsen's echoing whisper told the goat to be quiet.
Even the displeasure of the smell was forgotten as they worked their
way under the immense curtain of rock draped over where the trail used to
be. This wasn't a true cave, like underground caves Richard had encountered
before. It was only a narrow crack under what was, in essence, a big rock.
There were no chambers and different routes to worry about; there was only
one narrow void under the rock, so lighting their way wasn't critical. He
knew, too, that it wasn't all that long. It only felt that way in the dark.
Richard reached the spot where the way ahead abruptly started up at a
"Well," he said as he shrugged, "what is it we're fighting for?"
"Nathan, you know very well what we're fighting for."
"Yes, I do. But do you? Tell me, then, what it is we're struggling to
protect, to preserve, to insure remains alive?"
"The Creator's gift of magic, of course. We fight to see that it
continues to exist in the world. We struggle for those who are born with it
to live, for them to learn to use their ability to its full extent. We fight
for each to have and to celebrate their unique ability."
"I think that's kind of ironic, don't you? The very thing you think is
worth fighting for is what you feared. The Imperial Order proclaims that
it's not in the best interest of mankind for a gifted individual to possess
magic, so that unique ability must be stripped away from them. They claim
that, since all do not have this ability in identical and equal measure,
it's dangerous for some to have it--that man must cast aside the belief that
a man's life is his own to live. That those who were born with magic must
therefore be expunged from the world in order to make the world a better
place for those who don't have such ability.
"And yet, you worked under that very premise, acted on those same
wicked beliefs. You locked me away because of my ability. You saw what I am
able to do, that others cannot do, as an evil birthright that could not be
allowed to be among mankind.
"And yet, you work to preserve that very thing which you fear in me--my
unique ability--in others. You work to allow everyone born with magic to
have the inalienable right to their own life, to be the best of what they
can be with their own ability .. . and yet you locked me away to deny me
that very same right."
"Just because I want the Creator's wolves to run free to hunt, as they
were intended, doesn't mean that I want to be their dinner."
Nathan leaned toward her. "I am not a wolf. I am a human being. You
tried, convicted, and sentenced me to life in your prison for being who I
was born, for what you feared I might do, simply because I had the ability.
You then soothed your own inner conflict by making that prison plush in an
attempt to convince yourself that you were kind-- all the while professing
to believe that we must fight to allow future people to be who they are.
"You qualified your prison as right because it was lavish, in order to
mask from yourself the nature of what you were advocating. Look around,
Ann." He swept his arm out at the stone. "This is what you were advocating
for those you decided did not have the right to their own life. You decided
the same as the Order, based on an ability you did not like. You decided
that some, because of their greater potential, must be sacrificed to the
good of those less than they. No matter how you decorated your dungeon, this
is what it looks like from the inside."
Ann gathered her thoughts, as well as her voice, before she spoke. "I
thought I had come to understand something like that while I sat all alone
down here, but I realize now that I hadn't, really. All those years I felt
bad for locking you away, but I never really examined my rationale for doing
so.
"You're right, Nathan. I believed you held the potential for great
harm. I should have helped you to understand what was right so you could act
rationally, rather than expect the worst from you and lock you away. I'm
sorry, Nathan."
He put his hands on his hips. "Do you really mean it, Ann?"
She nodded, unable to look up at him, as her eyes filled with tears.
She always expected honesty from everyone else, but she had not been honest
with herself. "Yes, Nathan, I really do."
Confession over, she went to her bench and slumped down. "Thank you for
coming, Nathan. I'll not trouble you to come down here again. I will take my
just punishment without complaint. If you don't mind,
I think I'd like to be alone right now to pray and consider the weight
on my heart."
"You can do that later. Now get up off your bottom, on your feet, and
pick up your things. We have matters to attend to and we have to get going."
Ann looked up with a frown. "What?"
"We have important things to do. Come on, woman. We're wasting time. We
need to get going. We're on the same side in this struggle, Ann. We need to
act like it and work together toward preserving our causes." He leaned down
toward her. "Unless you've decided to retire to sit around the rest of your
life. If not, then let's be on our way. We have trouble."
Ann hopped down from the stone bench. "Trouble? What sort of trouble."
"Prophecy trouble."
"Prophecy? There is trouble with a prophecy? What trouble? What
prophecy?"
Fists on his nips, Nathan fixed her with a scowl. "I can't tell you
about such things. Prophecy is not meant for the unenlightened."
Ann pursed her lips, about to launch into scolding him up one side and
down the other, when she caught the smile working at the edges of his mouth.
It caught her up in a smile of her own.
"What's happened?" she asked in the tone of voice friends used when
they had decided that past wrongs were recognized and matters now set on a
correct path.
"Ann, you'll not believe it when I tell you," Nathan complained. "It's
that boy, again."
"Richard?"
"What other boy do you know who can get in the kind of trouble only
Richard can get into."
"Well, I no longer think of Richard as a boy."
Nathan sighed. "I suppose not, but it's hard when you're my age to
think of one so young as a man."
"He's a man," Ann assured him.
"Yes, I guess he is." Nathan grinned. "And, he's a Rahl."
"What sort of trouble has Richard gotten himself into this time?"
Nathan's good humor evaporated. "He's walked off the edge of prophecy."
Ann screwed up her face. "What are you talking about? What's he done?"
"I'm telling you, Ann, that boy has walked right off the edge of
prophecy itself--walked right off into a place in prophecy where prophecy
itself doesn't exist."
Ann recognized that Nathan was sincerely troubled, but he was making no
sense. In part, that was why some people were afraid of him. He often gave
people the impression he was talking gibberish when he was talking about
things that no one but he could even understand. Sometimes no one but a
prophet could truly understand completely what he grasped. With his eyes,
the eyes of a prophet, he could see things that no one else could.
She had spent a lifetime working with prophecy, though, and so she
could understand, perhaps better than most, at least some of his mind, some
of what he could grasp.
"How can you know of such a prophecy, Nathan, if it doesn't exist? I
don't understand. Explain it to me."
"There are libraries here, at the People's Palace, that contain some
valuable books of prophecy that I've never had a chance to see before. While
I had reason to suspect that such prophecies might exist, I was never
certain they actually did, or what they might say. I've been studying them
since I've been here and I've come across links to other known prophecy we
had down in the vaults at the Palace of the Prophets. These prophecies,
here, fill in some important gaps in those we already know about.
"Most importantly, I found an altogether new branch of prophecy I've
never seen before that explains why and how I've been blind to some of
what's been going on. From studying the forks and inversions off of this
branch, I've discovered that Richard has taken a series of links that follow
down a particular pathway of prophecy that leads to oblivion, to something
that, as far as I can tell, doesn't even exist."
One hand on a hip, the other tracing invisible lines in the air, Nathan
paced the small room as he talked. "This new link alludes to things I've
never seen before, branches that I've always known must be there, but were
missing. These branches are exceedingly dangerous prophecies that have been
kept here, in secret. I can see why. Even I, had I seen them years ago,
might have misinterpreted them. These new branches refer to voids of some
sort. Since they are voids, their nature can't be known; such a
contradiction can't exist.
"Richard has gone into this area of void, where prophecy can't see him,
can't help him, and worse, can't help us. But more than not seeing him with
prophecy, it's as if where he is and what he is doing do not exist.
"Richard is dealing in something that is capable of ending everything
we know."
Ann knew that Nathan would not exaggerate about something of this
nature. While she was in the dark about precisely what he was talking about,
the essence of it gave her the cold sweats.
"What can we do about it?"
Nathan threw up his arms. "We have to go in there and get him. We have
to bring him back into the world that exists."
"You mean, the world that prophecy says exists."
Nathan's scowl was back. "That's what I said, isn't it? We have to
somehow get him back on the thread of prophecy where he shows up."
Ann cleared her throat. "Or?"
Nathan snatched up the lamp, then her pack. "Or, he will cease to be
part of viable lines of prophecy, never to be involved with matters of this
world again."
"You mean, if we don't get him back from wherever his is, he will die?"
Nathan gave her a curious look. "Have I been talking to the walls? Of
course he will die! If that boy isn't in prophecy, if he breaks all the
links to prophecy where he plays a role, then he voids all those lines of
prophecy where he exists. If he does that, then they become false prophecy
and those branches with word of him will never come to pass. None of the
other links contain any reference to him--because in the origin of those
links, he dies, first."
"And what happens on those links that don't contain him?"
Nathan took up her hand as he pulled her toward the door. "On those
links, a shadow falls over everyone. Everyone who lives, anyway. It will be
a very long and very dark age."
"Wait," Ann said, pulling him to a halt.
She returned to the stone bench and placed the Rada'Han in the center.
"I don't have the power to destroy this. I think maybe it should be locked
away."
Nathan nodded his approval. "We will lock the doors and instruct the
guards that it is to remain in here, behind the shields, for all time."
Ann held a warning finger up before him. "Don't get the idea that just
because you're not wearing a collar I will tolerate misbehavior."
Nathan's grin returned. He didn't come right out and agree. Before he
went through the door, he turned back to her.
"By the way, have you been talking to Verna through your journey book?"
"Yes, a little. She's with the army and pretty busy, right now. They're
defending the passes into D'Hara. Jagang has begun his siege."
"Well, from what I've been able to gather from military commanders
here, at the palace, the passes are formidable and will hold for a while, at
least." He leaned toward her. "You have to send a message to her, though.
Tell her that when an empty wagon rolls into their line, to let it through."
Ann made a face. "What does that mean?"
"Prophecy is not meant for the unenlightened. Just tell her."
"All right," Ann said with breathless difficulty as Nathan pulled her
through the tight doorway. "But I'd best not tell her you're the one who
said it, or she will likely ignore the advice. She thinks you're daft, you
know."
"She just never got a chance to come to know me very well, that's all."
He glanced back. "What with me being unjustly locked away, and all."
Ann wanted to say that perhaps Verna knew Nathan all too well, but
decided better of it right then. As Nathan started to turn toward the outer
door, Ann snatched his sleeve.
"Nathan, what else about this prophecy you found aren't you telling me?
This prophecy where Richard disappears into oblivion."
She knew Nathan well enough to know by his agitation that he hadn't
told her everything, that he thought he was being gallant by sparing her
worry. With a sober expression, he gazed into her eyes for a time before he
finally spoke.
"There is a Slide on that fork of prophecy."
Ann frowned as she turned her eyes up in thought. "A Slide. A Slide,"
she muttered to herself, trying to recall the name. It sounded familiar. "A
Slide . . ." She snapped her fingers. "A Slide." Her eyes went wide. "Dear
Creator."
"I don't think the Creator had anything to do with this."
Ann impatiently waved in protest. "That can't be. There has to be
something wrong with this new prophecy you found. It has to be defective.
Slides were created in the great war. There couldn't be a Slide on this link
of prophecy--don't you see? The prophecy must be out of phase and long ago
expired." Ann chewed her lower lip as her mind raced.
"It isn't out of phase. Don't you think that was my first thought, too?
You think me an amateur at this? I worked through the chronology a hundred
times. I ran every chart and calculation I ever learned--even some I
invented for the task. They all came out with the same root. Every link came
out in order. The prophecy is in phase, chronology, and all its aspects are
aligned."
"Then it's a false link," Ann insisted. "Slides were conjured
creatures. They were sterile. They couldn't reproduce."
"I'm telling you," Nathan growled, "there is a Slide on this fork with
Richard and it's a viable prophetic link."
"They couldn't have survived to be here." Ann was sure of what she was
saying. Nathan knew more about prophecy than she, there was no doubt of
that, but this was one area where she knew exactly what she was talking
about--this was her area of expertise. "Slides weren't able to beget
children."
He was giving her one of those looks she didn't like. "I'm telling you,
a Slide walks the world again."
Ann tsked. "Nathan, soul stealers can't reproduce."
"The prophecy says he wasn't born, but born again a Slide."
Ann's flesh began to tingle. She stared at him a time before finding
her voice. "For three thousand years there have been no wizards born with
both sides of the gift but Richard. There is no way anyone ..."
Ann paused. He was watching her, watching her finally realize what had
to be. "Dear Creator," she whispered.
"I told you, the Creator had nothing to do with this. The Sisters of
the Dark mothered him."
Shaken to her core, Ann could think of nothing to say.
There was no worse news she could have heard.
There was no defense against a Slide.
Every soul was naked to a Slide's attack.
Outside the second door, Nyda waited in the hall, her face as grim as
ever, but not as grim as Ann's. The hall was dark but for the dim light
coming from the still flames of a few candles. No breath of wind ever made
it this deep into the palace. The only color among the dark rock soaking up
that small bit of light was the blood red of Nyda's red leather.
Being pulled along by the hand, feeling a jumble of emotions, Ann
leaned toward the woman and vented a pent-up fiery scowl. "You told him what
I said to tell him, didn't you?"
"Of course," Nyda answered as she fell into step behind the two of
them.
Turning halfway around, Ann shook a finger at the Mord-Sith. "I'll make
you sorry you told him."
Nyda smiled. "Oh, I don't think so."
Ann rolled her eyes and turned back to Nathan. "By the way, what are
you doing wearing a sword? You, of all people--a wizard. Why are you wearing
a sword?"
Nathan looked hurt. "Why, Nyda thinks I look dashing with a sword."
Ann fixed her eyes on the dark passageway ahead. "I just bet she does."
Standing at the edge of a narrow rim of rock, Richard looked down on
the ragged gray wisps of clouds below. Out in the open, the cool damp air
that drifted over him carried the aromas of balsam trees, moss, wet leaves,
and saturated soil. He inhaled deeply the fragrant reminders of home. The
rock, mostly granite, cracked and weather-worn into pillowed blocks, looked
much the same as that in his Hartland woods. The mountains, however, were
far larger. The slope rising up behind him was dizzying.
To the west before him, far below, lay a vast stretch of fractured
ground and ever-rising rugged hills carpeted in forests. To his left and
right, because he knew what he was looking for, he could just make out the
strip of ground, devoid of trees, where the boundary had been. Farther off
to the west rose up the lesser mountains, mostly barren, that bordered the
wasteland. That wasteland, and the place called the Pillars of Creation, was
no longer visible. Richard was happy to have left it far behind.
The sky was empty of black-tipped races--for the moment, anyway. The
huge birds most likely knew that Richard, Kahlan, Cara, Jennsen, Tom, and
Owen were heading west.
Richard had shot the last five races as they had begun gathering in
their circling behavior, surprising them by being high up the side of the
mountain above the others in his group, closer to where the races flew.
After killing the races, Richard had led the rest of his small company into
denser woods. He didn't think that the races they'd been seeing up until
then had spotted them since. Now that they were traveling through forests of
towering trees Richard thought that, if he was careful, they might be able
to lose their watchers.
If this man, Nicholas, had seen them through the eyes of those five
races, then he knew they had been headed west. But, now that they were
hidden, he couldn't assume that they would continue west. If Richard could
disappear from where the birds would look for him, and failed to appear
where they would expect him, then Nicholas might have second thoughts. He
might realize they could have changed direction and gone north, or south.
Nicholas might then begin to realize that they had used that period of
confusion to run away somewhere else, to flee him.
It was possible that Richard could keep them hidden under the cover of
the trees and in so doing keep Nicholas from discovering them. Richard
didn't want the man to know where they'd gone, or to have any idea where
they were at any given time. It was hardly a certainty that he could deceive
Nicholas in this way, but Richard intended to try.
Shielding his eyes with the flat of his hand, Richard scanned the rise
of dense forest before them in order to get the lay of the land fixed in his
mind before he headed back in under the thick vegetation where the others
waited. The trailers of clouds below were but the tattered castoffs of the
churning blanket of gloom above them. The mountainside ascended sharply into
that wet overcast.
As Richard evaluated the rock, the slope, and the trees, he finally
found what he sought. He studied the ascent of the mountain one last time
before scanning the sky again to make sure it was clear. Seeing no races--or
any other birds, for that matter--he headed in to where the others waited.
He knew that just because he didn't see any birds didn't mean that they
weren't there watching him. There could be a few dozen races sitting in
trees where he would likely never spot them. But, for the moment, he was
still where they would expect him, so he wasn't greatly concerned.
He was about to do what they would not expect.
Richard climbed back up the slick bank of moss, leaves, and wet roots.
If he fell, he would have only the one chance to grab the small ledge where
he'd been standing before he would tumble out into the clear air and a drop
of several thousand feet. The thought of that drop made him hold tighter to
the roots to help him climb, and made him test carefully every score in the
rock where he placed his boot before committing his weight to it.
At the top of the bank he ducked under overhanging branches of scrawny
mountain maple that grew in the understory of hardwoods leaning out beside
the towering pines in an effort to capture the light. Leaves of the ash and
birch rising above the mountain maple collected the drixzle, until their
leaves had as much as they could hold and released it to patter down in fat
drops that slapped the lower leaves above Richard's head. When a light
breeze caught those upper leaves, they released their load to rain down in
sudden but brief torrents.
Stooping under low-spreading branches of fir trees, Richard followed
his track back through thickets of huckleberry into the more open ground of
the hushed woods beneath the thick canopy of ancient evergreens. Pine
needles had been woven by the wind into sprawling mats that cushioned his
steps. Spiraling webs hung by spiders to catch the small bugs that zigzagged
all about had instead netted the mist and were now dotted with shimmering
drops of water, like jeweled necklaces on display.
Back in the sheltering cover of rock and the thick growth of young
spruce, Kahlan stood when she saw Richard coming. When she stood, everyone
else then saw him, and came to their feet as well. Richard ducked in under
the wispy green branches.
"Did you see any races, Lord Rahl?" Owen asked, clearly nervous about
the predators.
"No," Richard told him as he picked up his pack and slung it over a
shoulder. He slipped his other arm beneath the second strap as he pulled the
pack up onto his back. "That doesn't mean they didn't see me, though."
Richard hooked his bow over the back of his left shoulder, along with a
waterskin.
"Well," Owen said, wringing his hands, "we can still hope they won't
know where we are."
Richard paused to look at the man. "Hope is not a strategy."
As the rest of them all started collecting their things from the brief
break, hooking gear on belts and shouldering packs, Richard drew Cara by the
arm out of the cover of small trees and pulled her close.
"See that rise through there?" he asked as he held her near him so she
could see where he was pointing. "With the strip of open ground that passes
in front of the young oak with the broken dead limb hanging down?"
Cara nodded. "Just after where the ground rises and goes over that
trickle of water running down the face of the rock, staining it green?"
"That's the spot. I want you to follow up over that area, then cut to
the right, taking that cleft up--that one there beyond the split in the
rock, there--and see if you can scout a trail up to the next shelf up above
these trees here."
Cara nodded. "Where will you be?"
"I'm going to take the rest of us up to the first break in the slope.
We'll be there. Come back and tell us if you find a way over the
projection."
Cara hoisted up her pack onto her back and then picked up the stout
staff Richard had cut for her.
"I didn't know that Mord-Sith could cut trails," Tom said.
"Mord-Sith can't," Cara said. "I, Cara, can. Lord Rahl taught me."
As she vanished into the trees, Richard watched her walk. She moved
gracefully, disturbing little as she made her way into the trackless woods.
She moved with an economy of effort that would conserve her energy. It had
not always been so; she had learned well the lessons he had given her.
Richard was pleased to see that the lessons had stuck and his efforts had
not been wasted.
Owen came forward, looking agitated. "But Lord Rahl, we can't go that
way." He waggled a hand back over his shoulder. "The trail goes that way.
That is the only way up and through the pass. There lies the way down, and
with it the way back up, now that the boundary is gone. It's not easy, but
it's the only way."
"It's the only way you know of. By how well that trail looks to be
traveled, I think it's the only way Nicholas knows of as well. It appears to
be the way the Order troops move in and out of Bandakar.
"If we go that way the races will be watching. If, on the other hand,
we don't show up, then/he won't know where we went. I want to keep it that
way from now on. I'm tired of playing mouse to his owl."
Richard let Kahlan lead them up through the woods, following the
natural route of the land when the way ahead was reasonably evident. When
she was in doubt she would glance back at him for direction. Richard would
look where she was to go, or nod in the direction he wanted her to take, or,
in a few cases, he needed to give her instruction.
By the lay of the land, Richard was pretty sure that there was an
ancient trail up through the mountain pass. That pass, that from afar looked
like a notch in the wall of mountains, was in reality no mere notch but a
broad area twisting as it rose back up between the mountains. Richard didn't
think that the path that the Bandakar people used to banish people through
the boundary was the only way through that pass. With the boundary in place
it may well have been, but the boundary was no longer there.
From what he'd seen so far, Richard suspected that there once had been
a route that in ancient times had been the main way in and out. Here and
there he was able to discern depressions that he believed were remnants of
that ancient, abandoned route.
While it was always possible that the old passage had been abandoned
for good reason, such as a landslide that made it impassable, he wanted to
know if that once traveled way was still usable. It would, at the least,
since it was in a different part of the mountains than the known path, take
them away from where the races were likely to be looking for them.
Jennsen walked up close beside Richard when the way through towering
pines was open enough. She tugged Betty along by her rope, keeping her from
stopping to sample plants along the way.
"Sooner or later the races will find us, don't you think?" Jennsen
asked. "I mean, if we don't show up where they expect to find us, then don't
you think they will search until they do find us? You were the one who said
that from the sky they could cover great distances and search us out."
"Maybe," Richard said. "But it will be hard to spot us in the woods if
we use our heads and stay hidden. In forests they can't search nearly as
much area as they could in the same amount of time out in the wasteland. In
open ground they could spot us miles away. Here, they will have a hard time
of it unless they're really close and we are careless.
"By the time we don't show up where the known trail makes it up into
Bandakar, they will have a vast area they suddenly will need to search and
they won't have any idea which direction to look. That compounds the problem
for them in finding us.
"I don't think that the viewing Nicholas gets through their eyes can be
very good, or he wouldn't need to gather the races now and again to circle.
If we can stay out of sight long enough, then we'll be among the people up
in Bandakar and then Nicholas, through the eyes of the races, will have a
hard, if not impossible, time picking us out from others."
Jennsen thought it over as they entered a stand of birch. Betty went
the wrong way around a tree and Jennsen had to stop to untangle her rope.
They all hunched their shoulders against the wet when a breeze brought down
a soaking shower.
"Richard," Jennsen asked in a voice barely above a whisper as she
caught back up with him, "what are you going to do when we get there?"
"I'm going to get the antidote so I don't die."
"I know that." Jennsen pulled a sodden ringlet of red hair back from
her face. "What I mean is, what are you going to do about Owen's people?"
Each breath he drew brought a slight stitch of pain deep in his lungs.
"I'm not sure, yet, just what I can do."
Jennsen walked in silence for a moment. "But you will try to help them,
won't you?"
Richard glanced over at his sister. "Jennsen, they're threatening to
kill me. They've proven that it isn't an empty threat."
She shrugged uncomfortably. "I know, but they're desperate." She
glanced ahead to make sure that Owen wouldn't hear. "They didn't know what
else to do to save themselves. They aren't like you. They never fought
anyone before."
Richard took a deep breath, the pain pulling tight across his chest
when he did so. "You'd never fought anyone before, either. When you thought
I was trying to kill you, as our father had, and you believed that I was
responsible for your mother's death, what did you do? I don't mean were you
correct about me, but what did you do in response to what you believed was
happening?"
"I resolved that if I wanted to live I would have to kill you before
you killed me."
"Exactly. You didn't poison someone and tell them to do it or they
would die. You decided that your life was worth living and that no one else
had the right to take it from you.
"When you are willing to meekly sacrifice your ultimate value, your
life, the only one you will ever have, to any thug who on a whim decides to
take it from you, then you can't be helped. You may be able to be rescued
for one day, but the next day another will come and you will again willingly
prostrate yourself before him. You have placed the value of the life of your
killer above your own.
"When you grant to anyone who demands it the right of life or death
over you, you have already become a willing slave in search of any butcher
who will have you."
She walked in silence for a time, thinking about what he'd said.
Richard noticed that she moved through the woods as he had taught Cara to
move. She was nearly as at home in the woods as he was.
"Richard." Jennsen swallowed. "I don't want those people to be hurt any
more. They've already suffered enough."
"Tell that to Kahlan if I die from their poison."
When they reached the meeting place, Cara wasn't there yet. They all
were ready for a brief rest. The spot, a break in the slope back against
granite that rose up steeply to the next projection in the mountain, was
protected high overhead by huge pines and closer down by brush. After so
long out in the heat of the desert, none of them were yet accustomed to the
wet chill. While they spread out to find rocks for seats so they wouldn't
have to sit in the wet leaf litter, Betty happily sampled the tasty weeds.
Owen sat to the far side, away from Betty.
Kahlan sat close to Richard on a small lump of rock. "How are you
doing? You look like you have a headache."
"Nothing to be done about it for now," he said.
Kahlan leaned closer. The warmth of her felt good against his side.
"Richard," she whispered, "remember Nicci's letter?"
"What about it?"
"Well, we assumed that this boundary into Bandakar being down was the
reason for the first warning beacon. Maybe we're wrong."
"What makes you think so?"
"No second beacon." She pointed with her chin off to the northwest. "We
saw the first way back down there. We're a lot closer to the place where the
boundary was and we haven't spotted a second beacon."
"Just as well," he said. "That was where the races were waiting for
us."
He remembered well when they found the little statue. The races were
perched in trees all around. Richard hadn't known what they were at the
time, other than they were large birds he'd never seen before. The instant
Cara picked up the statue, the black-tipped races had all suddenly taken to
wing. There had been hundreds.
"Yes," Kahlan said, "but without the second beacon, maybe this isn't
the problem that we thought caused the first."
"You're assuming that the second beacon will be for me--that I'm the
one it will be meant for and so we would have seen it. Nicci said that the
second beacon is for the one who has the power to fix the breach in the
seal. Maybe that's not me."
Looking at first startled by the idea, Kahlan thought it over. "I'm not
sure if I'd be pleased about that or not." She leaned tighter against him
and hooked an arm around his thigh. "But no matter who is meant to be the
one who can seal the breach again, the one who's supposed to restore the
boundary, I don't think they will be able to do so."
Richard ran his fingers back through his wet hair. "Well, if I'm the
one this dead wizard once believed could restore the boundary, he's wrong. I
don't know how to do such a thing."
"But don't you see, Richard? Even if you did know how, I don't think
you could."
Richard looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Jumping to
conclusions and letting your imagination get carried away, again?"
"Richard, face it, the boundary failed because of what I did. That's
why the warning beacon was for me--because I caused the seal to fail. You
aren't going to try to deny that, are you?"
"No, but we have a lot to learn before we know what's really going on."
"I freed the chimes," she said. "It's not going to do us any good to
try to hide from that fact."
Kahlan had used ancient magic to save his life. She had freed the
chimes in order to heal him. She'd had no time to spare; he would have died
within moments if she had not acted.
Moreover, she'd had no idea that the chimes would unleash destruction
upon the world. She hadn't known they had been created three thousand years
before from underworld powers as a weapon designed to consume magic. She had
been told only that she must use them to save Richard's life.
Richard knew what it felt like to be convinced of the facts behind
events and to have no one believe him. He knew she was now feeling that same
frustration.
"You're right that we can't hide from it--if it is a fact. But right
now we don't know that it is. For one thing, the chimes have been banished
back to the underworld."
"And what about what Zedd told us, about how once the destructive
cascade of magic begins--which it did--then there is no telling if it can be
stopped even if the chimes are banished. There is no experience in such an
event upon which to base predictions."
Richard didn't have an answer for her, and was at a disadvantage
because he didn't have her education in magic. He was saved from having to
speculate when Cara came in through a tight patch of young balsam trees. She
pulled her pack off her shoulders and let it slip to the ground as she sat
on a rock facing Richard.
"You were right. We can get through there. It looks to me like I can
see a way to continue on up from the ledge."
"Good," Richard said as he stood. "Let's get going. The clouds are
getting darker. I think we need to find a place to stop for the night."
"I spotted a place under the ledge, Lord Rahl. I think it might be a
dry place to stay."
"Good." Richard hoisted her pack. "I'll carry this for you for a while,
let you have a break."
Cara nodded her appreciation, falling into line as they moved through
the tight trees and immediately had to start to climb up the steeply rising
ground. There was enough exposed rock and roots to provide good steps and
handholds. Where some of those steps were tall, Richard stretched down to
give Kahlan a hand.
Tom helped Jennsen and passed Betty up a few times, even though the
goat was better at scrambling up over rock than they were. Richard thought
he was doing it more for Jennsen's peace of mind than Betty's. Jennsen
finally told Tom that Betty could climb on her own.
Betty proved her right, bleating down at Tom after effortlessly
clambering up a particularly trying spot.
"Why don't you help me up, then," Tom said to the goat.
Jennsen smiled along with Richard and Kahlan. Owen just watched as he
skirted the other way around the rock. He was afraid of Betty. Cara finally
asked for her pack back, having entertained long enough the possibility of
being considered frail.
Shortly after the rain started, they found the low slit of an opening
under a prominent ledge, just as Cara had said they would. It wasn't a cave,
but a spot where a slab from the face of the mountain above had broken off
and fallen over. Boulders on the ground held the slab up enough to create a
pocket beneath. It wasn't large, but Richard thought they would all fit
under it for the night.
The ground was dirty, scattered with collected leaf litter and forest
debris of bark, moss, and a lot of bugs. Tom and Richard used branches
they'd cut to quickly sweep the place out. They then laid down a clean bed
of evergreen boughs to keep them up off the water that did run in.
The rain was starting to come down harder, so they all squatted down
and hurried to move in under the rock. It wasn't a comfortable-looking spot,
being too low for them to stand in, but it was fairly dry.
Richard dared not let them have a fire, now that they had left the
regular trail, lest the smoke be spotted by the races. They had a cold
supper of meats, leftover bannock, and dried goods. They were all exhausted
from climbing all day, and while they ate engaged in only a bit of small
talk. Betty was the only one with enough room to stand. She pushed up
against Richard until she got his attention and a rub.
As darkness slowly enveloped the woods, they watched the rain fall
outside their cozy shelter, listening to the soft sound, all no doubt
wondering what lay ahead in a strange empire that had been sealed away for
three thousand years. Troops from the Imperial Order would be there, too.
As Richard sat watching out into the dark rain, listening to the sounds
of the occasional animal in the distance, Kahlan cuddled up beside him,
laying her head on his lap. Betty went deeper into the shelter and lay down
with Jennsen.
Kahlan, under the comfort of his hand resting tenderly on her shoulder,
was asleep in moments. As weary as he was from the day's hard journey,
Richard wasn't sleepy.
His head hurt and the poison deep within him made each breath catch. He
wondered what would strike him down first, the power of his gift that was
giving him the headaches, or Owen's poison.
He wondered, too, just how he was going to satisfy the demands of Owen
and his men to free their empire so that he could have the antidote. The
five of them, he, Kahlan, Cara, Jennsen, and Tom, hardly seemed the army
needed to drive the Order out of Bandakar.
If he didn't, and if he couldn't get to the antidote, his life was
coming to a close. This very well could be his final journey.
It seemed like he had just gotten back together with Kahlan after being
separated from her for half his life. He wanted to be with her. He wanted
the two of them to be able to be alone.
If he didn't think of something, all they had in each other, all they
had ahead of them, was just about over. And that was without even
considering the headaches of the gift.
Or the Imperial Order capturing the Wizard's Keep.
Richard gripped the edge of the rock at the face of the opening to help
pull himself up and out from the dark hole in the abrupt rise of granite
before them. Once out, he brushed the sharp little granules of rock from his
hands as he turned to the others.
"It goes through. It isn't easy, but it goes through."
He saw a dubious look on Tom's face, and a look of consternation on
Owen's. Betty, her floppy ears perked ahead in what Richard thought could
only be a goat frown, peered down into the narrow chasm and bleated.
"But I don't think we can," Owen complained. "What if..."
"We get stuck?" Richard asked.
Owen nodded.
"Well, you have an advantage over Tom and me," Richard said as he
picked up his pack from nearby to the side where he'd left it. "You're not
quite as big. If I made it through and back, then you can make it, Owen."
Owen waved a hand up the steep ascent to his right. "But what about
that way? Couldn't we just go around?"
"I don't like going into dark, narrow places like this, either,"
Richard said. "But if we go around that way we have to go out on the ledges.
You heard what Cara said; it's narrow and dangerous. If it were the
only way it would be another matter, but it's not.
"The races could spot us out there. Worse, if they wanted, they could
attack us and we could easily fall or be forced over the edge. I don't like
going in places like this, but I don't think I'd like to be out there on a
windblown ledge no wider than the sole of my boot, with a fall of thousands
of feet straight down if I make one slip, and then have one of those races
suddenly show up to rip into me with their talons or those sharp beaks of
theirs. Would you prefer that?"
Owen licked his lips as he bent at the waist and looked into the narrow
passageway. "Well, I guess you're right."
"Richard," Kahlan asked in a whisper as the rest of them started taking
off their packs so they could more easily fit through, "if this was a trail,
as you suspect, why isn't there a better way through?"
"I think that sometime only in the last few thousand years this huge
section of the mountain broke away and slid down, coming to rest at this
angle, leaving a narrow passageway beneath it." He pointed up. "See up
there? I think this entire portion down here used to be up there. I think
it's now sitting right where the trail used to be."
"And there's no other way but this cave or the ledges?"
"I'm not saying that. I believe there's other old routes, but we would
have to backtrack for most of a day to take the last fork I saw, and then
there isn't any guarantee with that one, either. If you really want, though,
we can go back and try."
Kahlan shook her head. "We can't afford to lose any time. We need to
get to the antidote."
Richard nodded. He didn't know how he was supposed to rid an entire
empire of the Imperial Order so they could get to the antidote, but he had a
few ideas. He needed to get the antidote; he saw no reason he had to play by
Owen's rules--or the Order's.
Kahlan gave the narrow, dark tunnel another look. "You're sure there
aren't any snakes in there?"
"I didn't see any."
Tom handed Richard his sword. "I'll go last," he said. "If you make it
through, I can."
Richard nodded as he laid the baldric over his shoulder. He turned the
scabbard at his hip in order to clear the rock and then started in. He
hugged his pack to his abdomen as he crouched to make it into the small
space. The slab of rock above him lay at an angle, so that he couldn't
remain upright, but had to twist sideways and back as he went into the
darkness. The farther in he went, the darker it became. As the others
followed him into the narrow passage, it blocked much of the light, making
it even darker.
The rains of recent days had finally ended, but runnels and runoff
continued to flow from the mountain. Their wading through ankle-deep water
standing in the bottom of the cavern sent echoes through the narrow
confines. The waves in the water played gloomy light along the wet walls,
providing at least some illumination.
The thought occurred to him that if he was a snake, this would make a
good spot to call home. The thought also occurred to him that if Kahlan,
right behind him, happened upon a snake in such cramped quarters, she would
not be pleased with him in the least for taking her in.
Things that were frightening outside were different when you couldn't
maneuver, couldn't run. Panic always seemed to lurk in tight places.
As it became darker, Richard had to feel his way along the cold stone.
In places where water seeped down the rock, the walls were slimy. In some
spots there was mud, in other places dry rock to walk on. Most of it,
though, was wet muck. Spongy leaves had collected in some of the irregular
low places.
By the smell, it was obvious that some animal had died and was
decomposing somewhere in the sodden grotto. He heard moans and complaints
from behind when the rest of them encountered the stench. Betty bleated her
unhappiness. Jennsen's echoing whisper told the goat to be quiet.
Even the displeasure of the smell was forgotten as they worked their
way under the immense curtain of rock draped over where the trail used to
be. This wasn't a true cave, like underground caves Richard had encountered
before. It was only a narrow crack under what was, in essence, a big rock.
There were no chambers and different routes to worry about; there was only
one narrow void under the rock, so lighting their way wasn't critical. He
knew, too, that it wasn't all that long. It only felt that way in the dark.
Richard reached the spot where the way ahead abruptly started up at a