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of Bandakar.
"There is no way to allow you to be who you were and to protect you.
Maybe the Order can be thrown out of your land, but they cannot be
effortlessly kept out, for it is their ideas that have come to destroy you.
"So choose. Slaves or free men. Life as either will not be easy. I
think you know what life as slaves will be like. As free men you will have
to struggle, work, and think, but you will have the rewards that brings, and
those rewards will be yours and no one else's.
"Freedom must be won, but then it has to be guarded lest those like the
Order come again to enslave those wishing for someone else to do their
thinking.
"I am the Lord Rahl. I intend to go get the antidote to the poison
you've given me. If you men choose to be part of this struggle, to rid
yourselves and your loved ones of evil, then I will help you.
"If you choose not to stand with us, then you may go back and let the
Order do with you what they will, or you can run. If you run, you may
survive for a time, as you have been doing, but, because that is not the way
you wish to live, you will die as frightened animals, never having lived
what life has to offer.
"So choose, but if you choose to stand with me against evil, then you
will have to relinquish your self-imposed blindness and open your eyes to
look around at life. You will have to see the reality of the world around
you. There is good and bad in the world. You will have to use your minds to
judge which is which so that you can seek the good and reject the bad.
"If you choose to stand with me, I will do my best to answer any honest
question and try to teach you how to triumph against the men of the Order
and those like them. But I will not suffer your mindless teachings that are
nothing more than a calculated rejection of life.
"Take a look at the bloody fingers you or your friends hold. Look at
what was done to children by evil men. You should hate such men who would do
this. If you don't, or can't, then you have no business being with those of
us who embrace life.
"I want each of you to think about those children, about their terror,
their pain, their wish not to be hurt. Think of what it was like for them to
be alone and in the hands of evil men. You should rightfully hate the men
who would do such things. Hold tight to that righteous hatred, for that is
the hatred of evil.
"I intend to recover the antidote so that I can live. In the process, I
also intend to kill as many of those evil men as I can. If I go alone, I may
succeed in getting the antidote, but alone I will not succeed in liberating
your homes from the Imperial Order.
"If you choose to go with me, to help me in this struggle, we may have
a chance.
"I don't know what I face there, so I can't honestly tell you that we
have a good chance. I can only tell you that if you don't help me, then
there is likely no chance."
Richard held up a finger. "Make no mistake. If you choose to join us
and we take up this struggle, some of us will probably die. If we do not,
all of us will die, not necessarily in body, but in spirit. Under such rule
as the Order has shown you, no one lives, even though their bodies might for
a time endure the misery of life as slaves. Under the Order, every soul
withers and dies."
The men were silent as Richard paused to meet their gazes. Most could
not look away, while some seemed shamed and so they stared at the ground.
"If you choose to side with me in this struggle," Richard said with
deliberate care, "you will be called upon to kill men of the Order, evil
men. If you once thought that I enjoyed killing, let me assure you that you
are very wrong. I hate it. I do it to defend life. I would never expect you
to relish killing. It is a necessity to do it, not to enjoy doing it. I
expect you to relish life and do what is necessary to preserve it."
Richard picked up one of the items, lying off to the side, that they
had made while waiting for Tom and Owen to bring the men up into the pass.
It looked like little more than a stout stick. It was in fact made of oak
limbs. It was rounded at the back to fit the hand, narrow at a point in the
middle, and pointed at the other end.
"You men don't have weapons. While we waited for you to arrive, we've
made some." He waggled his fingers, requesting Tom to come forward. "The men
of the Order won't recognize these as weapons, at first, anyway. If
questioned, you should tell them that they're used to make holes in the
ground to plant crops."
With his left hand, Richard seized Tom's shirt at his shoulder, to hold
him, and demonstrated the weapon's use by slowly showing how it would be
thrust upward, toward a man's middle just under his ribs, to stab him. Some
faces among the men twisted with revulsion.
"This can most easily be driven up into a man's soft part, up in under
his ribs," Richard told them. "Once you thrust it in, give it a quick
sideways twist to break it off at the narrow point. That way, the man won't
be able to pull it out. With such a thing lodged in his insides, if he can
even stand, he won't want to be running after you or trying to wrestle you.
You'll be better able to get away."
One of the men lifted a hand. "But a piece of wood like that will be
wet and wouldn't break. Many of the wood fibers will just bend over, leaving
the handle end attached."
Richard tossed the weapon to the man. After he caught it, he said,
"Look at the middle, where it's cut to a narrow neck. You'll see that it's
been held over a fire and dried for that very reason. Notice the pointed
end, too. You'll see that it's been cut and split into four sections, with
the points bent open, like a flower bud, so that as it's thrust into an
enemy it has a good chance to break open, the four sides going in different
directions to do more damage. With that one thrust, it will be like stabbing
him four times.
"When you snap it off in him, he won't be able to fight you because
every move he makes will wrench those long oak splinters through his
vulnerable insides. If it doesn't hit something vital and kill him
immediately, he's certainly likely to die within the day. While he's dying,
he'll be screaming in agony and fear. I want such evil men to know that the
pain and death they inflict on others will be coming for them. That fear
will cause them to begin to think of running. It will make them lose sleep,
wear them down, so that when we do get to them they'll be easier to kill."
Richard picked up another item. "This is a small crossbow." He held
it high for the men to see as he pointed outi ts features."As you can
see, the bowstring is locked back on this nut. A stout bolt is laid in this
groove, here. Pulling this lever rotates the nut, releasing the string and
firing the bolt. It isn't fancy, and you men aren't experienced at using
such weapons, but at close, range you don't have to be all that good a shot.
"I've started a number of crossbows and have a whole pile of stocks and
parts made. With the items that you men brought back, we can
finish making them. They're rather 0rude, and, as I said, they won't be
good at much of a distance, but they are small and you can hide them
under a cloak. No matter how big and strong the enemy is, the smallest
of you can kill him. Not even his chain-mail armor will protect against
such a weapon fired at close range. I cah promise you that they will be
very deadly."
Richard showed the men hardwood clubs they would stud with nails. Such
weapons could also be concealed. He showed them a simple cord with a small
wooden handle at each end trjat was used to strangle a man from behind when
stealth was paramount.
"As we take these men, we'll be able to get other weapons--knives,
axes, maces, swords."
"But, Lord Rahl," Owen said, looking beside himself with worry, "even
if we were to agree to join you in this, we are not fighters. These men of
the Order are brutes who are experienced at such things. We would stand no
chance against them."
The others voiced their worried agreement. Richard shook his head as he
held up his hands for them to be quiet.
"Look at those fingers you hold. Ask yourselves what chance those
little girls had against such men. Ask yourselves what chance your mothers,
your sisters, your wives, your daughters have. You are the only hope for
these people. You are the only hope for yourselves.
"Most likely, you men would not stand a chance against such men,
either. But I have no intention of fighting them as you're thinking. That's
a good way to get killed." Richard pointed at one of the younger men. "What
is it we want? The reason you came to get me?"
The man looked confused. "To get rid of the men of the Order?"
"Yes," Richard said. "That's right. You want to be rid of murderers.
The last thing you want is to fight them."
The man gestured at the weapons Richard had shown them. "But these
things ..."
"These men are murderers. Our task is to execute them. We want to avoid
fights. If we fight them, we risk being hurt or killed. I am not saying that
we won't have to fight them, but that isn't our goal. There will be times
when there may be limited numbers of them and we can be sure that with
surprise we can take them out before a fight has a chance to erupt. Keep in
mind that these men have been conditioned to none of your people putting up
any resistance. We hope to kill them before it occurs to them to draw a
weapon.
"But if we don't have to face them, all the better. Our goal is to kill
them. To kill every one of them we can. Kill them when they sleep, when they
are looking the other way, when they are eating, when they are talking, when
they are drinking, when they are out for a stroll.
"They are evil. We must kill them, not fight them."
Owen threw up his hands. "But, Lord Rahl, if we were to start killing
them, they would take revenge on all the people they have."
Richard watched the men, waiting until he was sure everyone was paying
attention.
"You have just recognized the reality that they are evil. You're right;
they will probably start killing captives as a way to convince you to
surrender. But they are killing them now. Over time, if left to do as they
will, the killing they do will be on a vast scale. The faster we kill them,
the sooner it's over and the sooner the murder will stop. Some people will
lose their lives because of what we do, but in doing it, we will free all
the rest. If we do nothing, then we condemn those innocent people to the
mercy of evil and evil grants no mercy. As I've said before, you can't
negotiate with evil. You must destroy it."
A man cleared his throat. "Lord Rahl, some of our people have sided
with the men of the Order--believed their words. They will not want us to
harm the men of the Order."
Richard let out a heavy breath. He turned away for a moment, gazing off
into the gloom, before turning his attention once more to the men. "I've had
to kill people I knew my whole life because they sided with the Order, much
the same as you are saying. They came to believe the men of the Imperial
Order, and because I was opposed to the Order, they tried to kill me. It's a
terrible thing to have to kill someone like that, someone you know. I
believe the alternative is worse."
"The alternative?" the man asked.
"Yes, letting them murder me. That's the alternative: losing your life
and losing the cause for which you fight--the lives of your loved ones."
Richard's expression had turned grave. "If some of your people have joined
with the Order, or work to protect them, then it may be that you could end
up facing them. It will be their life, or yours. It could even mean the
lives of the rest of us. If they side with evil, then we must not allow them
to stop us from eliminating evil.
"This is part of what you must weigh in your decision to join us or
not. If you take up this struggle, you must accept that you may have to kill
people you know. You must weigh this in the choice you will make."
The men no longer seemed shocked by his words. They looked solemn as
they listened.
Kahlan saw small birds flitting past, looking to roost for the night.
The sky, the icy fog, was getting darker. She scanned the sky, ever watchful
for black-tipped races. With the weather in the pass so dreadful, she
doubted they would be around. The fog, at least, was comforting for that
reason.
Richard looked exhausted. She knew how hard it was for her to breathe
in the high, thin air, so it had to be far worse for him; she feared how,
because of the poison, the thin air robbed Richard of his strength. They
needed to be down out of the high pass.
"I have told you the truth and all I can for now," Richard told the
men. "Your future is now up to each of you."
He quietly asked Cara, Jennsen, and Tom to collect their things. He put
a gentle hand on Kahlan's back as he turned to the men and gestured down the
hill.
"We're going back down to our camp in those woods. You men decide what
you will do. If you are with us, then come down there in the protection of
the trees, where the races won't be able to spot us when the weather lifts.
We will need to finish making the weapons you will carry.
"If any of you choose not to join us, then you're on your own. I plan
not to be here, at this camp, for long. If the Order captures you they will
likely torture you and I don't want to be anywhere nearby when you scream
your lungs out as you reveal where our camp was."
The forlorn men stood huddled in a group.
"Lord Rahl," Owen asked, "you mean we must choose now?"
"I've told you all I can. How much longer can those being tortured,
raped, and murdered wait for you? If you wish to join us and be part of
life, then come down to our camp. If you choose not to be on our side, then
I wish you luck. But please don't try to follow us or I'll have to kill you.
I was once a woods guide; I will know if any of you follow us."
One of the men, the one who had been the first to show Richard two
pebbles to say that he would reveal the location of the antidote, stepped
forward, away from the rest of the men.
"Lord Rahl, my name is Anson." Tears filled his blue eyes. "I wanted
you to know that, to know who I am. I am Anson."
Richard nodded. "All right, Anson."
"Thank you for opening my eyes. I've always had some of the thoughts
that you explained. Now I understand why, and I understand the darkness kept
over my eyes. I don't want to live like that anymore. I don't want to live
by words that don't mean anything and I don't want the men of the Order to
control my life.
"My parents were murdered. I saw my father's body hanging from a pole.
He never hurt anyone. He did nothing to deserve such a murder. My sister was
taken. I know what those men are doing to her. I can't sleep at night
thinking about it, thinking about her terror.
"I want to fight back. I want to kill these evil men. They've earned
death. I want to grind them into dust, as you have said.
"I choose to join with you and fight to gain my freedom. I want to live
free. I want those I love to live free."
Kahlan was stunned to hear one of them say such things, especially
without first consulting with the rest of the men. She had watched the eyes
of the other men as Anson spoke. They all listened keenly to everything
Anson said.
Richard smiled as he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Welcome to D'Hara, Anson. Welcome home. We can use your help." He pointed
off at Cara and Tom picking up the weapons they'd brought to show the men.
"Why don't you help them take those things back down to our camp."
Anson grinned his agreement. The soft-spoken young man had broad
shoulders and a thickly muscled neck. He was genial, but looked determined.
If she were in the Imperial Order, Kahlan would not want to see such a
powerfully built man coming after her.
Anson eagerly tried to take the load from Cara's arms. She wouldn't
relinquish it, so he picked up the rest of the things and followed Tom down
the hill. Jennsen went along, too, pulling Betty behind by her rope, tugging
for the first few steps because Betty wanted them to stay with Richard and
Kahlan.
The other men watched as Anson started down the hill with Cara, Tom,
and Jennsen. They then moved off to the side, away from the statue, while
they whispered among themselves, deciding what they would do.
Richard glanced at the figure of Kaja-Rang before starting down the
hill. Something seemed to catch his eye.
"What's the matter?" Kahlan asked.
Richard pointed. "That writing. On the face of the pedestal, below his
feet."
Kahlan knew there had been no writing in that spot before, and she was
still too far away to really tell if she could see writing in the flecked
granite. She glanced back to see the others making their way down the hill,
but instead followed Richard when he started toward the statue. The men were
still off to the side, busily engaged in their discussion.
She could see the spot on the face of the pedestal where the warning
beacon had shattered. The sand from inside the statue representing
Richard was still splattered across the face of the pedestal.
As they got closer, she could hardly believe what she was beginning to
see. It looked as if the sand had eroded the stone to reveal lettering. The
words had not been there before; that much she was sure of.
Kahlan knew a number of languages, but she didn't know this one. She
recognized it, though. It was High D'Haran.
She hugged her arms to herself in the chill wind that had come up. The
somber clouds stirred restlessly. She peered around at the imposing
mountains, many hidden by a dark shroud of fog. Swirling curtains of snow
obscured other slopes in the distance. Through a small, brief opening in the
wretched weather, the valley she could see off through the pass offered the
promise of green and warmth.
And the Imperial Order.
Kahlan, close beside Richard, wished he would put a warm arm around
her. She watched as he stared at the faint letters in the stone. He was
being far too quiet for her peace of mind.
"Richard," she whispered, leaning close to him, "what does it say?"
Transfixed, he ran his fingers slowly, lightly over the letters, his
lips soundlessly pronouncing the High D'Haran words.
"Wizard's Eighth Rule," Richard whispered in translation. "Taiga
Vassternich."
Following behind the messenger, Verna stepped aside as a tight pack of
horses raced by. Their bellies were caked with mud, their nostrils flared
with excitement. The eyes of the cavalry soldiers bent over their withers
showed grim determination. With the constant level of activity of recent
weeks, she had to maintain a careful vigil whenever she stepped out of a
tent lest she be run down by one thing or another. If it wasn't horses
charging through camp, it was men at a run.
"Just up ahead," the messenger said over his shoulder.
Verna nodded to his young face as he glanced back. He was a polite
young man. His curly blond hair and his mannerly behavior combined to remind
her of Warren. She was defenseless against the wave of pain that cut through
her with the memory of Warren being gone, at the emptiness of each day.
She couldn't remember this messenger's name. There were so many young
men; it was hard to recall all their names. Though she tried her best, she
couldn't keep track of them. At least for a while now they hadn't been dying
at a terrifying rate. As harsh as the winters were up in D'Hara, such
weather had at least been a respite from the battles of the previous summer,
from the constant fighting and dying. With summer again upon them, she
didn't think that the relative quiet was going to last much longer.For now
the passes held against the Imperial Order. In such narrow and confined
places, the enemy's weight of numbers didn't mean so much. If only one man
would fit through a narrow hole in a stone wall, it meant little that there
were a hundred waiting behind him to go through, or a thousand. Defending
against one man, as it were, was not the impossible task that it was trying
to fight the onslaught of Jagang's entire force.
When she heard the distant thunder, felt it rolling through the ground,
she glanced up at the sky. The sun had not made an appearance in two days.
She didn't like the looks of the clouds building against the slopes of the
mountains. It looked like they could be in for a nasty storm.
The sound might not have been thunder. It was possible that it was
magic the enemy hammered against the shields across the passes. Such
battering would do them no good, but it made for uneasy sleeping, so, if for
no other reason, they kept at it.
Some of the men and the officers passing in the other direction gave
her a nod in greeting, or a smile, or a small wave. Verna didn't see any
Sisters of the Light. Many would be at the passes, tending shields, making
sure none of the Imperial Order soldiers could get through. Zedd had taught
them to consider every possibility, no matter how outlandish, and guard
against it. Day and night Verna ran every one of those places through her
mind, trying to think if there was anything they had overlooked, anything
they had missed, that might allow the enemy forces to flood in upon them.
If that happened, if they broke through, then there was nothing to stop
their advance into D'Hara except the defending army, and the defending army
was no match for the numbers on the other side of those mountains. She
couldn't think of any chink in their armor, but she worried constantly that
there might be one.
It seemed that the final battle might be on them at any moment. And
where was Richard?
Prophecy said that he was vital in the battle to decide the future
course of mankind. With it appearing that they very well could be one battle
from the end of it all, of freedom's final spark, the Lord Rahl ran the very
real risk of missing the moment of his greatest need. She could hardly
believe that for centuries Prophecy foretold of the one who would lead them,
and when the time finally arrives, he's off somewhere else. Lot of good
Prophecy was doing them.
Verna knew Richard's heart. She knew Kahlan's heart. It wasn't right to
doubt either of them, but Verna was the one staring into the eyes of
Jagang's horde and Richard was nowhere to be found.
From what little information Verna had gleaned from Ann's messages in
the journey book, there was trouble afoot. Verna could detect in Ann's
writings that the woman was greatly troubled by something. Whatever the
cause, Ann and Nathan were racing south, back down through the Old World.
Ann avoided explaining, possibly not wanting to burden them with anything
else, so Verna didn't press. She had enough trouble conceiving of why Ann
would have joined with the prophet rather than collaring him. Ann said only
that a journey book was not a good place to explain such things.
Despite the good work the man sometimes did, Verna considered Nathan
dangerous in the extreme. A thunderstorm brought life-giving rain, but if
you were the one struck by its lightning, it didn't do you much good. For
Ann and Nathan to join forces, as it were, must be indicative of the trouble
they were all in.
Verna had to remind herself that not everything was going against them,
not everything was hopeless and dismal. Jagang's army had, after all,
suffered a stunning blow at the hands of Zedd and Adie, losing staggering
numbers of soldiers in an instant and suffering vast numbers of casualties.
As a result the Imperial Order had turned away from Aydindril, leaving the
Wizard's Keep untouched. Despite the dream walker's covetous hands, the Keep
remained out of his reach.
Zedd and Adie had the defense of the Keep well in hand, so it was not
all trouble and strife; there were valuable assets on the side of the
D'Haran Empire. The Keep might yet prove decisive in helping to stop the
Imperial Order. Verna missed that old wizard, his advice, his wisdom, though
she would never admit it aloud. In that old man she could see where Richard
got many of his best qualities.
Verna halted when she saw Rikka striding across in front of her. Verna
snatched the Mord-Sith's arm.
"What is it, Prelate?" Rikka asked.
"Have you heard what this is about?"
Rikka gave her a blank look. "What what's about?"
The messenger stopped on the other side of the intersection of informal
roads. Horses trotted past in both directions, one pulling a cart of water
barrels. Fully armed men crossed on the side road. The encampment, one of
several, surrounded by a defensive berm, had evolved into a city of sorts,
with byways through its midst for men, horses, and wagons.
"Something is going on," Verna said.
"Sorry, I haven't heard anything."
"Are you busy?"
"Nothing urgent."
Verna took a good grip on Rikka's arm and started her walking. "General
Meiffert sent for me. Maybe you'd best come along. That way if he wants you,
too, we won't have to send someone looking for you."
Rikka shrugged. "Fine by me." The Mord-Sith's expression turned
suspicious. "Do you have any idea what's wrong?"
As Verna kept an eye on the messenger ahead of her weaving his way
among men, tents, wagons, horses, and repair stations, she glanced over at
Rikka. "Nothing that I know of." Verna's expression contorted a bit as she
tried to put her queazy mood into words. "Did you ever wake up and just feel
like there was something wrong, but you couldn't explain why it seemed like
it was going to be a bad day?"
"If it's to be a bad day, I see to that it's someone else's, and I'm
the cause of it."
Verna smiled to herself. "Too bad you're not gifted. You would make a
good Sister of the Light."
"I would rather be Mord-Sith and be able to protect Lord Rahl."
The messenger stopped at the side of the camp road. "Back there,
Prelate. General Meiffert said to bring you to that tent by the trees."
Verna thanked the young man and made her way across the soft ground,
Rikka at her side. The tent was away from the main activity of the camp, in
a quieter area where officers often met with scouts just back from patrols.
Verna's mind raced, trying to imagine what news scouts could have brought
back. There was no alarm, so the passes still held. If there was trouble,
there would be a flurry of activity in the camp, but it seemed about the
same as any other day.
Guards saw Verna coming and ducked into the tent to announce her
arrival. Almost immediately, the general stepped out of the tent and rushed
to meet her. His blue eyes reflected iron determination. The man's face,
though, was ashen.
"I saw Rikka," Verna explained as General Meiffert dipped his head in a
hurried greeting. "I thought I ought to bring her just in case you needed
her, too."
The tall, blond-headed D'Haran glanced briefly at Rikka. "Yes, that's
fine. Come in, please, both of you."
Verna snatched his sleeve. "What's this about? What's going on? Is
something wrong?"
The general's eyes moved to Rikka and back to Verna. "We've had a
message from Jagang."
Rikka leaned in, her voice taking on an edge. "How did a messenger from
Jagang get through without someone killing them?"
It was standard practice that no one came through for any reason. They
didn't want so much as a mouse making it through. There was no telling if it
might be some kind of trick.
"It was a small wagon, pulled by a single horse." He tilted his head
toward Verna. "The men thought the wagon was empty. Remembering your
instructions, they let it through."
Verna was somewhat surprised that Ann's warning to let an empty wagon
through had been so correct. "A wagon came of its own accord? An empty wagon
drove itself in?"
"Not exactly. The men who saw it thought it was empty. The horse
appears to be a workhorse that is used to walking roads, so it plodded along
the road as it had been trained." General Meiffert pressed his lips together
at the confusion on Verna's face and then turned away from the tent. "Come
on, and I'll show you."
He led them to the third tent down the line and held the flap aside.
Verna ducked in, followed by Rikka and the general. On a bench inside sat a
young novice, Holly, with her arm around a very frightened-looking girl no
more than ten years old.
"I asked Holly to stay with her," General Meiffert whispered. "I
thought it might make her less nervous than a soldier standing over her."
"Of course," Verna said. "Very wise of you. She's the one who brought
the message, then?"
The young general nodded. "She was sitting in the back of the wagon, so
the men seeing it coming at first thought it was empty."
Verna now understood why such a messenger got through. Soldiers weren't
nearly so likely to kill a child, and the Sisters could test her to insure
she was no threat. Verna wondered if Zedd would have something to say about
that; threat often came in surprising packages. Verna approached the pair on
the bench, smiling as she bent down.
"I'm Verna. Are you all right, young lady?" The girl nodded. "Would you
like something to eat?"
Trembling slightly as her big brown eyes took in the people looking at
her, she nodded again.
"Prelate," Holly said, "Valery already went to get her something."
"I see," Verna said, holding the smile in place. She knelt down and
gently patted the girl's hands in her lap to reassure her. "Do you live
around here?"
The girl's big brown eyes blinked, trying to judge the danger of the
adult before her. She calmed just a little at Verna's smile and kind touch.
"A bit of travel to the north, ma'am."
"And someone sent you to see us?"
The big brown eyes filled with tears, but she didn't cry. "My parents
are back there, down over the pass. The soldiers there have them. As guests,
they said. Men came and took us to their army. We've had to stay there for
the last few weeks. Today they told me to take a letter over the pass to the
people here. They said that if I did as I was told, they would let my mother
and father and me go home."
Verna again patted the girl's small hands. "I see. Well, that's good of
you to help your parents."
"I just want to go home."
"And you shall, child." Verna straightened. "We'll get you some food,
dear, so you have a full tummy before you go back to your parents."
The girl stood and curtsied. "Thank you for your kindness. May I go
back after I eat, then?"
"Certainly," Verna said. "I'll just go read the letter you brought
while you have a nice meal, and then you can return to your parents."
As she sat back up on the bench, squirming her bottom back beside
Holly, she couldn't help keeping a wary eye on the Mord-Sith.
Trying not to show any apprehension, Verna smiled her good-bye to the
girl before leading the others out of the tent. She couldn't even imagine
what Jagang was up to.
"What's in the letter?" Verna asked as they hurried to the command
tent.
General Meiffert paused outside the tent, his thumb burnishing a brass
button on his coat as he met Verna's gaze. "I'd just as soon you read it for
yourself, Prelate. Some of it is plain enough. Some of it, well, some of it
I'm hoping you can explain to me."
Stepping into the tent, Verna saw Captain Zimmer waiting off to the
side. The square-jawed man was absent his usual infectious smile. The
captain was in charge of the D'Haran special forces, a group of men whose
job it was to go out and spend their days and nights sneaking around in
enemy territory killing as many of the enemy as possible. There seemed to be
an endless supply. The captain seemed determined to use up the supply.
The men in Captain Zimmer's corps were very good at what they did. They
collected strings of ears they took from the enemies they killed. Kahlan
used to always ask to see their collection whenever they returned. The
captain and his men dearly missed her.
They all glanced up at a flash of lightning. The storm was getting
closer. After a moment's pause, the ground shook with the rolling rumble of
thunder.
General Meiffert retrieved a small folded paper from the table and
handed it to Verna.
"This is what the girl brought."
Looking briefly to the two men's grim expressions, Verna unfolded the
paper and read the neat script.
/ have Wizard Zorander and a sorceress named Adie. I now hold the
Wizard's Keep in Aydindril and all it contains. My Slide will soon present
me with Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor.
Your cause is lost. If you surrender now and open the passes, I will
spare your men. If you do not, I will put every one of them to death.
Signed, Jagang the Just.
The arm holding the paper in her trembling fingers lowered.
"Dear Creator," Verna whispered. She felt dizzy.
Rikka snatched the paper from her hand and stood facing away as she
read it. She cursed under her breath.
"We have to go get him," Rikka said. "We have to get Zedd and Adie away
from Jagang."
Captain Zimmer shook his head. "There is no way we could accomplish
such a thing."
Rikka's face went red with rage. "He's saved my life before! Yours,
too! We have to get him out of there!"
In contrast to Rikka's anger, Verna spoke softly. "We all feel the same
about him. Zedd has probably saved all of our lives more than once.
Unfortunately, Jagang will do all the worse to him for it."
Rikka shook the message before their faces. "So we are just going to
let him die there? Let Jagang kill him? We sneak in, or something!"
Captain Zimmer rested the heel of his hand on a long knife at his belt.
"Mistress Rikka, if I told you that I had a man hidden somewhere in this
camp, in one of the hundreds of thousands of tents, and no one would bother
you or ask you any questions, but would allow you to freely go about a
search, how long do you think it would take you to find such a hidden man?"
"But they won't be in just any tent," Rikka said. "Look at us, here.
This message came. Did it go to just any random tent in the whole camp? No,
it went to a place where such things are handled."
"I've been to the Imperial Order encampment too many times to count,"
Captain Zimmer said as he cast his arm out toward the enemy over the
mountains to the west. "You can't even imagine how big their camp is. They
have millions of men there.
"Their encampment is a quagmire of cutthroats. It's a place of chaos.
That disorder allows us to slip in, kill some of them, and get out fast. You
don't want to be there very long. They recognize outsiders, especially blond
outsiders.
"Moreover, there are layers of different kinds of men. Most of the
soldiers are little more than a mob of thugs that Jagang turns loose from
time to time. None of them are allowed beyond a certain point within their
own camp. The men guarding the areas with higher security are not nearly so
stupid and lazy as the common soldiers.
"The men in those protected areas aren't as numerous as the common
soldiers, but they are trained professionals. They are alert, vigilant, and
deadly. If you could somehow manage to get through the sea of misfits to
reach the island at the core where the torture and command tents are, those
professional soldiers would have you on the end of a pike in no time.
"Even they are not all the same. The outer ring of this core, besides
having these professionals guarding it, is where the Sisters are. They both
live there and use magic to watch for intruders. Beyond them are further
rings, starting with the elite guards, and then, finally, the emperor's
personal guards. These are men who have been fighting with Jagang for years.
They kill anyone, even the elite guard officers, if they become at all
suspicious of them. If they even hear word of someone saying disparaging
things about the emperor, they hunt them down and have them tortured. After
being tortured, if they live through it, they are then put to death.
"I'm not saying that my men and I would be unwilling to risk our lives
trying to get Zedd out of there; I'm saying that we would be giving our
lives up for nothing."
The mood in the tent could not have been more hopeless.
The general gestured with the paper when Rikka handed it back. "Any
idea what a Slide is, Prelate?"
Verna met his blue-eyed gaze. "A soul stealer."
The general frowned. "A what?"
"In the great war--three thousand years ago--the wizards of that time
created weapons out of people. Dream walkers, like Jagang, were one such
weapon. The best way I can explain it to you is that a Slide is in some ways
like a dream walker. A dream walker can enter a person's mind and seize
control of them. A Slide, I believe, is something like that, only he seizes
your spirit, your soul."
Rikka made a face. "Why?"
Verna lifted her hands in frustration. "I don't really know. To control
their victim, perhaps.
Altering gifted people was an ancient practice. They sometimes changed
gifted people with magic to suit a specific purpose. With Sub-tractive Magic
they took away traits they didn't want, and then they used Additive Magic to
add to or enhance a trait they did want. What they created were monsters.
"I'm not really well versed in the subject. When I became Prelate I had
access to books I had never seen before. That's where I saw the reference to
Slides. They were used to slip into another person's being and steal the
essence of who they where--their spirit, their soul.
"Altering people in such a way as to create these Slides is a long-dead
art. I'm afraid that I don't know a great deal about the subject. I do
remember reading that the ones called Slides were exceedingly dangerous."
"Long-dead art," the general muttered. He looked like he was making a
great effort to restrain himself. "Those wizards of that time made such
weapons as Slides, but how could Jagang? He's no wizard. Could it be that
he's lying?"
Verna thought about the question a moment. "He has gifted people under
his direct control. Some are able to use underworld magic. As I said, I
don't know a great deal about it, but I suppose it's possible that he was
able to do it."
"How?" the general demanded. "How could Jagang do such things? He's not
even a wizard."
Verna clasped her hands before herself. "He has Sisters of the Light
and the Dark. In theory, I suppose he has what he needs. He is a man who
studies history. I know from personal experience that he puts great value in
books. He has an extensive and quite valuable collection. Nathan, the
prophet, was very concerned about this very thing, and destroyed a number of
important volumes before they could fall into Jagang's possession.
"Still, the emperor possesses a great many others--in fact, he has a
huge collection. Now that he has captured the Keep, he has access to
important libraries. Those books are dangerous, or they wouldn't have been
sealed away in the Wizard's Keep in the first place."
"And now Jagang has control of them." General Meiffert ran his fingers
back through his hair. He gripped the back of the chair set before the small
table and leaned his weight on his arms. "Do you think he really has Zedd
and Adie?"
The question was a plea for some thread of hope. Verna swallowed as she
carefully considered the question. She answered in an honest voice, not
wanting to be the founder of a false faith. Since she'd read the message
from Jagang, she, herself, had been searching for that same thread of hope.
"I don't think he's a man who would find any satisfaction in bragging
about something he hadn't actually accomplished. I think he must be telling
us the truth and wants to gloat over his accomplishment."
The general released his grip on the chair and turned as he considered
Verna's words. Finally, he asked a question worse yet.
"Do you think he's telling the truth that this Slide has Lord Rahl and
the Mother Confessor? Do you think this terrible creation, this Slide, will
soon deliver the two of them to Jagang?"
Verna wondered if this was the reason for Ann and Nathan's headlong
rush down through the Old World. Verna knew that Richard and Kahlan were
down there, somewhere. There could be no more urgent reason for Ann and
Nathan to race south. Was it possible that this Slide had already captured
them, or captured their souls? Verna's heart sank. She wondered if Ann
already knew that the Slide had Richard, and that was why she wasn't saying
much about her mission.
"I don't know," Verna finally answered.
"I think Jagang just made a mistake," Captain Zimmer said.
Verna lifted an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"He has just betrayed to us how much trouble he's having with the
passes. He's just told us how well our defenses are working and how
desperate he is. If he doesn't get through this season, his whole army will
have to sit out another winter. He wants us to let him through.
"D'Haran winters are hard, especially on men such as his, men not used
to the conditions. I saw with my own eyes good indications of how many men
he lost last winter. Hundreds of thousands of men died from disease."
"He has plenty of men," General Meiffert said. "He can afford the
losses. He has a steady supply of new troops to replace the ones who died
from the fevers and sickness last winter."
"So, you think the captain is wrong?" Verna asked.
"No, I agree that Jagang would like very much to get it over with; I
just don't think he cares how many of his men die. I think he's eager to
rule the world. Patient as he generally is, he sees the end at hand, the
goal within his grasp. We're the only thing standing in his way, keeping his
prize from falling to him. His men, too, are impatient for the plunder.
"His choice to split the New World first by driving up to Aydindril has
left him close to his goal, but in some ways, even more distant from it. If
he can't make it through the passes, he may decide to pick up his army and
make a long march back south again, to the Kern River valley, to where he
can then come over and up into D'Hara. Once his army takes to the open
ground down south, there's no way for us to stop them.
"If he can't break through the passes now, it means a long march and a
long delay, but he will still have us in the end. He would rather have us
now and is willing to offer the lives of our men to close a deal."
Verna stared off. "It's a grave mistake to try to appease evil."
"I agree," General Meiffert said. "Once we opened the passes, he would
slaughter every last man."
The mood in the tent was as gloomy as the sky outside.
"I think we should send him back a letter," Rikka said. "I think we
should tell him that we don't believe him that he has Zedd and Adie. If he
expects us to believe him, he should prove it; he should send us their
heads."
Captain Zimmer smiled at the suggestion.
The general tapped a finger on the table as he thought it over. "If
it's as you say, Prelate, and Jagang really does have them, then there's
nothing we can do about it. He will kill them. After what Zedd did to
Jagang's force back in Aydindril, to say nothing of all the havoc he caused
the Imperial Order last summer when the Mother Confessor was with us, I know
it won't be an easy death, but he will kill them in the end."
"Then you agree that nothing else can be done," Verna said.
General Meiffert wiped a hand across his face. "I hate admitting it,
but I'm afraid they're lost. I don't think we should give Jagang the
satisfaction of knowing how we truly feel about it."
Verna's head spun at the thought of Zedd and Adie being put to torture,
of them being in the hands of Jagang and his Sisters of the Dark. She
quailed at the thought of the D'Haran forces losing Zedd. There simply was
no one with his experience and knowledge. There was no one who could replace
him.
"We write Jagang a letter, then," Verna said, "and tell Jagang we don't
believe he has Zedd and Adie."
"The only thing we can do," Rikka said, "is to deny Jagang what he
wants most. What he wants is for us to give up."
General Meiffert pulled out the chair at the table, inviting Verna to
sit and write the letter. "If Jagang is angered by such a letter, he just
"There is no way to allow you to be who you were and to protect you.
Maybe the Order can be thrown out of your land, but they cannot be
effortlessly kept out, for it is their ideas that have come to destroy you.
"So choose. Slaves or free men. Life as either will not be easy. I
think you know what life as slaves will be like. As free men you will have
to struggle, work, and think, but you will have the rewards that brings, and
those rewards will be yours and no one else's.
"Freedom must be won, but then it has to be guarded lest those like the
Order come again to enslave those wishing for someone else to do their
thinking.
"I am the Lord Rahl. I intend to go get the antidote to the poison
you've given me. If you men choose to be part of this struggle, to rid
yourselves and your loved ones of evil, then I will help you.
"If you choose not to stand with us, then you may go back and let the
Order do with you what they will, or you can run. If you run, you may
survive for a time, as you have been doing, but, because that is not the way
you wish to live, you will die as frightened animals, never having lived
what life has to offer.
"So choose, but if you choose to stand with me against evil, then you
will have to relinquish your self-imposed blindness and open your eyes to
look around at life. You will have to see the reality of the world around
you. There is good and bad in the world. You will have to use your minds to
judge which is which so that you can seek the good and reject the bad.
"If you choose to stand with me, I will do my best to answer any honest
question and try to teach you how to triumph against the men of the Order
and those like them. But I will not suffer your mindless teachings that are
nothing more than a calculated rejection of life.
"Take a look at the bloody fingers you or your friends hold. Look at
what was done to children by evil men. You should hate such men who would do
this. If you don't, or can't, then you have no business being with those of
us who embrace life.
"I want each of you to think about those children, about their terror,
their pain, their wish not to be hurt. Think of what it was like for them to
be alone and in the hands of evil men. You should rightfully hate the men
who would do such things. Hold tight to that righteous hatred, for that is
the hatred of evil.
"I intend to recover the antidote so that I can live. In the process, I
also intend to kill as many of those evil men as I can. If I go alone, I may
succeed in getting the antidote, but alone I will not succeed in liberating
your homes from the Imperial Order.
"If you choose to go with me, to help me in this struggle, we may have
a chance.
"I don't know what I face there, so I can't honestly tell you that we
have a good chance. I can only tell you that if you don't help me, then
there is likely no chance."
Richard held up a finger. "Make no mistake. If you choose to join us
and we take up this struggle, some of us will probably die. If we do not,
all of us will die, not necessarily in body, but in spirit. Under such rule
as the Order has shown you, no one lives, even though their bodies might for
a time endure the misery of life as slaves. Under the Order, every soul
withers and dies."
The men were silent as Richard paused to meet their gazes. Most could
not look away, while some seemed shamed and so they stared at the ground.
"If you choose to side with me in this struggle," Richard said with
deliberate care, "you will be called upon to kill men of the Order, evil
men. If you once thought that I enjoyed killing, let me assure you that you
are very wrong. I hate it. I do it to defend life. I would never expect you
to relish killing. It is a necessity to do it, not to enjoy doing it. I
expect you to relish life and do what is necessary to preserve it."
Richard picked up one of the items, lying off to the side, that they
had made while waiting for Tom and Owen to bring the men up into the pass.
It looked like little more than a stout stick. It was in fact made of oak
limbs. It was rounded at the back to fit the hand, narrow at a point in the
middle, and pointed at the other end.
"You men don't have weapons. While we waited for you to arrive, we've
made some." He waggled his fingers, requesting Tom to come forward. "The men
of the Order won't recognize these as weapons, at first, anyway. If
questioned, you should tell them that they're used to make holes in the
ground to plant crops."
With his left hand, Richard seized Tom's shirt at his shoulder, to hold
him, and demonstrated the weapon's use by slowly showing how it would be
thrust upward, toward a man's middle just under his ribs, to stab him. Some
faces among the men twisted with revulsion.
"This can most easily be driven up into a man's soft part, up in under
his ribs," Richard told them. "Once you thrust it in, give it a quick
sideways twist to break it off at the narrow point. That way, the man won't
be able to pull it out. With such a thing lodged in his insides, if he can
even stand, he won't want to be running after you or trying to wrestle you.
You'll be better able to get away."
One of the men lifted a hand. "But a piece of wood like that will be
wet and wouldn't break. Many of the wood fibers will just bend over, leaving
the handle end attached."
Richard tossed the weapon to the man. After he caught it, he said,
"Look at the middle, where it's cut to a narrow neck. You'll see that it's
been held over a fire and dried for that very reason. Notice the pointed
end, too. You'll see that it's been cut and split into four sections, with
the points bent open, like a flower bud, so that as it's thrust into an
enemy it has a good chance to break open, the four sides going in different
directions to do more damage. With that one thrust, it will be like stabbing
him four times.
"When you snap it off in him, he won't be able to fight you because
every move he makes will wrench those long oak splinters through his
vulnerable insides. If it doesn't hit something vital and kill him
immediately, he's certainly likely to die within the day. While he's dying,
he'll be screaming in agony and fear. I want such evil men to know that the
pain and death they inflict on others will be coming for them. That fear
will cause them to begin to think of running. It will make them lose sleep,
wear them down, so that when we do get to them they'll be easier to kill."
Richard picked up another item. "This is a small crossbow." He held
it high for the men to see as he pointed outi ts features."As you can
see, the bowstring is locked back on this nut. A stout bolt is laid in this
groove, here. Pulling this lever rotates the nut, releasing the string and
firing the bolt. It isn't fancy, and you men aren't experienced at using
such weapons, but at close, range you don't have to be all that good a shot.
"I've started a number of crossbows and have a whole pile of stocks and
parts made. With the items that you men brought back, we can
finish making them. They're rather 0rude, and, as I said, they won't be
good at much of a distance, but they are small and you can hide them
under a cloak. No matter how big and strong the enemy is, the smallest
of you can kill him. Not even his chain-mail armor will protect against
such a weapon fired at close range. I cah promise you that they will be
very deadly."
Richard showed the men hardwood clubs they would stud with nails. Such
weapons could also be concealed. He showed them a simple cord with a small
wooden handle at each end trjat was used to strangle a man from behind when
stealth was paramount.
"As we take these men, we'll be able to get other weapons--knives,
axes, maces, swords."
"But, Lord Rahl," Owen said, looking beside himself with worry, "even
if we were to agree to join you in this, we are not fighters. These men of
the Order are brutes who are experienced at such things. We would stand no
chance against them."
The others voiced their worried agreement. Richard shook his head as he
held up his hands for them to be quiet.
"Look at those fingers you hold. Ask yourselves what chance those
little girls had against such men. Ask yourselves what chance your mothers,
your sisters, your wives, your daughters have. You are the only hope for
these people. You are the only hope for yourselves.
"Most likely, you men would not stand a chance against such men,
either. But I have no intention of fighting them as you're thinking. That's
a good way to get killed." Richard pointed at one of the younger men. "What
is it we want? The reason you came to get me?"
The man looked confused. "To get rid of the men of the Order?"
"Yes," Richard said. "That's right. You want to be rid of murderers.
The last thing you want is to fight them."
The man gestured at the weapons Richard had shown them. "But these
things ..."
"These men are murderers. Our task is to execute them. We want to avoid
fights. If we fight them, we risk being hurt or killed. I am not saying that
we won't have to fight them, but that isn't our goal. There will be times
when there may be limited numbers of them and we can be sure that with
surprise we can take them out before a fight has a chance to erupt. Keep in
mind that these men have been conditioned to none of your people putting up
any resistance. We hope to kill them before it occurs to them to draw a
weapon.
"But if we don't have to face them, all the better. Our goal is to kill
them. To kill every one of them we can. Kill them when they sleep, when they
are looking the other way, when they are eating, when they are talking, when
they are drinking, when they are out for a stroll.
"They are evil. We must kill them, not fight them."
Owen threw up his hands. "But, Lord Rahl, if we were to start killing
them, they would take revenge on all the people they have."
Richard watched the men, waiting until he was sure everyone was paying
attention.
"You have just recognized the reality that they are evil. You're right;
they will probably start killing captives as a way to convince you to
surrender. But they are killing them now. Over time, if left to do as they
will, the killing they do will be on a vast scale. The faster we kill them,
the sooner it's over and the sooner the murder will stop. Some people will
lose their lives because of what we do, but in doing it, we will free all
the rest. If we do nothing, then we condemn those innocent people to the
mercy of evil and evil grants no mercy. As I've said before, you can't
negotiate with evil. You must destroy it."
A man cleared his throat. "Lord Rahl, some of our people have sided
with the men of the Order--believed their words. They will not want us to
harm the men of the Order."
Richard let out a heavy breath. He turned away for a moment, gazing off
into the gloom, before turning his attention once more to the men. "I've had
to kill people I knew my whole life because they sided with the Order, much
the same as you are saying. They came to believe the men of the Imperial
Order, and because I was opposed to the Order, they tried to kill me. It's a
terrible thing to have to kill someone like that, someone you know. I
believe the alternative is worse."
"The alternative?" the man asked.
"Yes, letting them murder me. That's the alternative: losing your life
and losing the cause for which you fight--the lives of your loved ones."
Richard's expression had turned grave. "If some of your people have joined
with the Order, or work to protect them, then it may be that you could end
up facing them. It will be their life, or yours. It could even mean the
lives of the rest of us. If they side with evil, then we must not allow them
to stop us from eliminating evil.
"This is part of what you must weigh in your decision to join us or
not. If you take up this struggle, you must accept that you may have to kill
people you know. You must weigh this in the choice you will make."
The men no longer seemed shocked by his words. They looked solemn as
they listened.
Kahlan saw small birds flitting past, looking to roost for the night.
The sky, the icy fog, was getting darker. She scanned the sky, ever watchful
for black-tipped races. With the weather in the pass so dreadful, she
doubted they would be around. The fog, at least, was comforting for that
reason.
Richard looked exhausted. She knew how hard it was for her to breathe
in the high, thin air, so it had to be far worse for him; she feared how,
because of the poison, the thin air robbed Richard of his strength. They
needed to be down out of the high pass.
"I have told you the truth and all I can for now," Richard told the
men. "Your future is now up to each of you."
He quietly asked Cara, Jennsen, and Tom to collect their things. He put
a gentle hand on Kahlan's back as he turned to the men and gestured down the
hill.
"We're going back down to our camp in those woods. You men decide what
you will do. If you are with us, then come down there in the protection of
the trees, where the races won't be able to spot us when the weather lifts.
We will need to finish making the weapons you will carry.
"If any of you choose not to join us, then you're on your own. I plan
not to be here, at this camp, for long. If the Order captures you they will
likely torture you and I don't want to be anywhere nearby when you scream
your lungs out as you reveal where our camp was."
The forlorn men stood huddled in a group.
"Lord Rahl," Owen asked, "you mean we must choose now?"
"I've told you all I can. How much longer can those being tortured,
raped, and murdered wait for you? If you wish to join us and be part of
life, then come down to our camp. If you choose not to be on our side, then
I wish you luck. But please don't try to follow us or I'll have to kill you.
I was once a woods guide; I will know if any of you follow us."
One of the men, the one who had been the first to show Richard two
pebbles to say that he would reveal the location of the antidote, stepped
forward, away from the rest of the men.
"Lord Rahl, my name is Anson." Tears filled his blue eyes. "I wanted
you to know that, to know who I am. I am Anson."
Richard nodded. "All right, Anson."
"Thank you for opening my eyes. I've always had some of the thoughts
that you explained. Now I understand why, and I understand the darkness kept
over my eyes. I don't want to live like that anymore. I don't want to live
by words that don't mean anything and I don't want the men of the Order to
control my life.
"My parents were murdered. I saw my father's body hanging from a pole.
He never hurt anyone. He did nothing to deserve such a murder. My sister was
taken. I know what those men are doing to her. I can't sleep at night
thinking about it, thinking about her terror.
"I want to fight back. I want to kill these evil men. They've earned
death. I want to grind them into dust, as you have said.
"I choose to join with you and fight to gain my freedom. I want to live
free. I want those I love to live free."
Kahlan was stunned to hear one of them say such things, especially
without first consulting with the rest of the men. She had watched the eyes
of the other men as Anson spoke. They all listened keenly to everything
Anson said.
Richard smiled as he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Welcome to D'Hara, Anson. Welcome home. We can use your help." He pointed
off at Cara and Tom picking up the weapons they'd brought to show the men.
"Why don't you help them take those things back down to our camp."
Anson grinned his agreement. The soft-spoken young man had broad
shoulders and a thickly muscled neck. He was genial, but looked determined.
If she were in the Imperial Order, Kahlan would not want to see such a
powerfully built man coming after her.
Anson eagerly tried to take the load from Cara's arms. She wouldn't
relinquish it, so he picked up the rest of the things and followed Tom down
the hill. Jennsen went along, too, pulling Betty behind by her rope, tugging
for the first few steps because Betty wanted them to stay with Richard and
Kahlan.
The other men watched as Anson started down the hill with Cara, Tom,
and Jennsen. They then moved off to the side, away from the statue, while
they whispered among themselves, deciding what they would do.
Richard glanced at the figure of Kaja-Rang before starting down the
hill. Something seemed to catch his eye.
"What's the matter?" Kahlan asked.
Richard pointed. "That writing. On the face of the pedestal, below his
feet."
Kahlan knew there had been no writing in that spot before, and she was
still too far away to really tell if she could see writing in the flecked
granite. She glanced back to see the others making their way down the hill,
but instead followed Richard when he started toward the statue. The men were
still off to the side, busily engaged in their discussion.
She could see the spot on the face of the pedestal where the warning
beacon had shattered. The sand from inside the statue representing
Richard was still splattered across the face of the pedestal.
As they got closer, she could hardly believe what she was beginning to
see. It looked as if the sand had eroded the stone to reveal lettering. The
words had not been there before; that much she was sure of.
Kahlan knew a number of languages, but she didn't know this one. She
recognized it, though. It was High D'Haran.
She hugged her arms to herself in the chill wind that had come up. The
somber clouds stirred restlessly. She peered around at the imposing
mountains, many hidden by a dark shroud of fog. Swirling curtains of snow
obscured other slopes in the distance. Through a small, brief opening in the
wretched weather, the valley she could see off through the pass offered the
promise of green and warmth.
And the Imperial Order.
Kahlan, close beside Richard, wished he would put a warm arm around
her. She watched as he stared at the faint letters in the stone. He was
being far too quiet for her peace of mind.
"Richard," she whispered, leaning close to him, "what does it say?"
Transfixed, he ran his fingers slowly, lightly over the letters, his
lips soundlessly pronouncing the High D'Haran words.
"Wizard's Eighth Rule," Richard whispered in translation. "Taiga
Vassternich."
Following behind the messenger, Verna stepped aside as a tight pack of
horses raced by. Their bellies were caked with mud, their nostrils flared
with excitement. The eyes of the cavalry soldiers bent over their withers
showed grim determination. With the constant level of activity of recent
weeks, she had to maintain a careful vigil whenever she stepped out of a
tent lest she be run down by one thing or another. If it wasn't horses
charging through camp, it was men at a run.
"Just up ahead," the messenger said over his shoulder.
Verna nodded to his young face as he glanced back. He was a polite
young man. His curly blond hair and his mannerly behavior combined to remind
her of Warren. She was defenseless against the wave of pain that cut through
her with the memory of Warren being gone, at the emptiness of each day.
She couldn't remember this messenger's name. There were so many young
men; it was hard to recall all their names. Though she tried her best, she
couldn't keep track of them. At least for a while now they hadn't been dying
at a terrifying rate. As harsh as the winters were up in D'Hara, such
weather had at least been a respite from the battles of the previous summer,
from the constant fighting and dying. With summer again upon them, she
didn't think that the relative quiet was going to last much longer.For now
the passes held against the Imperial Order. In such narrow and confined
places, the enemy's weight of numbers didn't mean so much. If only one man
would fit through a narrow hole in a stone wall, it meant little that there
were a hundred waiting behind him to go through, or a thousand. Defending
against one man, as it were, was not the impossible task that it was trying
to fight the onslaught of Jagang's entire force.
When she heard the distant thunder, felt it rolling through the ground,
she glanced up at the sky. The sun had not made an appearance in two days.
She didn't like the looks of the clouds building against the slopes of the
mountains. It looked like they could be in for a nasty storm.
The sound might not have been thunder. It was possible that it was
magic the enemy hammered against the shields across the passes. Such
battering would do them no good, but it made for uneasy sleeping, so, if for
no other reason, they kept at it.
Some of the men and the officers passing in the other direction gave
her a nod in greeting, or a smile, or a small wave. Verna didn't see any
Sisters of the Light. Many would be at the passes, tending shields, making
sure none of the Imperial Order soldiers could get through. Zedd had taught
them to consider every possibility, no matter how outlandish, and guard
against it. Day and night Verna ran every one of those places through her
mind, trying to think if there was anything they had overlooked, anything
they had missed, that might allow the enemy forces to flood in upon them.
If that happened, if they broke through, then there was nothing to stop
their advance into D'Hara except the defending army, and the defending army
was no match for the numbers on the other side of those mountains. She
couldn't think of any chink in their armor, but she worried constantly that
there might be one.
It seemed that the final battle might be on them at any moment. And
where was Richard?
Prophecy said that he was vital in the battle to decide the future
course of mankind. With it appearing that they very well could be one battle
from the end of it all, of freedom's final spark, the Lord Rahl ran the very
real risk of missing the moment of his greatest need. She could hardly
believe that for centuries Prophecy foretold of the one who would lead them,
and when the time finally arrives, he's off somewhere else. Lot of good
Prophecy was doing them.
Verna knew Richard's heart. She knew Kahlan's heart. It wasn't right to
doubt either of them, but Verna was the one staring into the eyes of
Jagang's horde and Richard was nowhere to be found.
From what little information Verna had gleaned from Ann's messages in
the journey book, there was trouble afoot. Verna could detect in Ann's
writings that the woman was greatly troubled by something. Whatever the
cause, Ann and Nathan were racing south, back down through the Old World.
Ann avoided explaining, possibly not wanting to burden them with anything
else, so Verna didn't press. She had enough trouble conceiving of why Ann
would have joined with the prophet rather than collaring him. Ann said only
that a journey book was not a good place to explain such things.
Despite the good work the man sometimes did, Verna considered Nathan
dangerous in the extreme. A thunderstorm brought life-giving rain, but if
you were the one struck by its lightning, it didn't do you much good. For
Ann and Nathan to join forces, as it were, must be indicative of the trouble
they were all in.
Verna had to remind herself that not everything was going against them,
not everything was hopeless and dismal. Jagang's army had, after all,
suffered a stunning blow at the hands of Zedd and Adie, losing staggering
numbers of soldiers in an instant and suffering vast numbers of casualties.
As a result the Imperial Order had turned away from Aydindril, leaving the
Wizard's Keep untouched. Despite the dream walker's covetous hands, the Keep
remained out of his reach.
Zedd and Adie had the defense of the Keep well in hand, so it was not
all trouble and strife; there were valuable assets on the side of the
D'Haran Empire. The Keep might yet prove decisive in helping to stop the
Imperial Order. Verna missed that old wizard, his advice, his wisdom, though
she would never admit it aloud. In that old man she could see where Richard
got many of his best qualities.
Verna halted when she saw Rikka striding across in front of her. Verna
snatched the Mord-Sith's arm.
"What is it, Prelate?" Rikka asked.
"Have you heard what this is about?"
Rikka gave her a blank look. "What what's about?"
The messenger stopped on the other side of the intersection of informal
roads. Horses trotted past in both directions, one pulling a cart of water
barrels. Fully armed men crossed on the side road. The encampment, one of
several, surrounded by a defensive berm, had evolved into a city of sorts,
with byways through its midst for men, horses, and wagons.
"Something is going on," Verna said.
"Sorry, I haven't heard anything."
"Are you busy?"
"Nothing urgent."
Verna took a good grip on Rikka's arm and started her walking. "General
Meiffert sent for me. Maybe you'd best come along. That way if he wants you,
too, we won't have to send someone looking for you."
Rikka shrugged. "Fine by me." The Mord-Sith's expression turned
suspicious. "Do you have any idea what's wrong?"
As Verna kept an eye on the messenger ahead of her weaving his way
among men, tents, wagons, horses, and repair stations, she glanced over at
Rikka. "Nothing that I know of." Verna's expression contorted a bit as she
tried to put her queazy mood into words. "Did you ever wake up and just feel
like there was something wrong, but you couldn't explain why it seemed like
it was going to be a bad day?"
"If it's to be a bad day, I see to that it's someone else's, and I'm
the cause of it."
Verna smiled to herself. "Too bad you're not gifted. You would make a
good Sister of the Light."
"I would rather be Mord-Sith and be able to protect Lord Rahl."
The messenger stopped at the side of the camp road. "Back there,
Prelate. General Meiffert said to bring you to that tent by the trees."
Verna thanked the young man and made her way across the soft ground,
Rikka at her side. The tent was away from the main activity of the camp, in
a quieter area where officers often met with scouts just back from patrols.
Verna's mind raced, trying to imagine what news scouts could have brought
back. There was no alarm, so the passes still held. If there was trouble,
there would be a flurry of activity in the camp, but it seemed about the
same as any other day.
Guards saw Verna coming and ducked into the tent to announce her
arrival. Almost immediately, the general stepped out of the tent and rushed
to meet her. His blue eyes reflected iron determination. The man's face,
though, was ashen.
"I saw Rikka," Verna explained as General Meiffert dipped his head in a
hurried greeting. "I thought I ought to bring her just in case you needed
her, too."
The tall, blond-headed D'Haran glanced briefly at Rikka. "Yes, that's
fine. Come in, please, both of you."
Verna snatched his sleeve. "What's this about? What's going on? Is
something wrong?"
The general's eyes moved to Rikka and back to Verna. "We've had a
message from Jagang."
Rikka leaned in, her voice taking on an edge. "How did a messenger from
Jagang get through without someone killing them?"
It was standard practice that no one came through for any reason. They
didn't want so much as a mouse making it through. There was no telling if it
might be some kind of trick.
"It was a small wagon, pulled by a single horse." He tilted his head
toward Verna. "The men thought the wagon was empty. Remembering your
instructions, they let it through."
Verna was somewhat surprised that Ann's warning to let an empty wagon
through had been so correct. "A wagon came of its own accord? An empty wagon
drove itself in?"
"Not exactly. The men who saw it thought it was empty. The horse
appears to be a workhorse that is used to walking roads, so it plodded along
the road as it had been trained." General Meiffert pressed his lips together
at the confusion on Verna's face and then turned away from the tent. "Come
on, and I'll show you."
He led them to the third tent down the line and held the flap aside.
Verna ducked in, followed by Rikka and the general. On a bench inside sat a
young novice, Holly, with her arm around a very frightened-looking girl no
more than ten years old.
"I asked Holly to stay with her," General Meiffert whispered. "I
thought it might make her less nervous than a soldier standing over her."
"Of course," Verna said. "Very wise of you. She's the one who brought
the message, then?"
The young general nodded. "She was sitting in the back of the wagon, so
the men seeing it coming at first thought it was empty."
Verna now understood why such a messenger got through. Soldiers weren't
nearly so likely to kill a child, and the Sisters could test her to insure
she was no threat. Verna wondered if Zedd would have something to say about
that; threat often came in surprising packages. Verna approached the pair on
the bench, smiling as she bent down.
"I'm Verna. Are you all right, young lady?" The girl nodded. "Would you
like something to eat?"
Trembling slightly as her big brown eyes took in the people looking at
her, she nodded again.
"Prelate," Holly said, "Valery already went to get her something."
"I see," Verna said, holding the smile in place. She knelt down and
gently patted the girl's hands in her lap to reassure her. "Do you live
around here?"
The girl's big brown eyes blinked, trying to judge the danger of the
adult before her. She calmed just a little at Verna's smile and kind touch.
"A bit of travel to the north, ma'am."
"And someone sent you to see us?"
The big brown eyes filled with tears, but she didn't cry. "My parents
are back there, down over the pass. The soldiers there have them. As guests,
they said. Men came and took us to their army. We've had to stay there for
the last few weeks. Today they told me to take a letter over the pass to the
people here. They said that if I did as I was told, they would let my mother
and father and me go home."
Verna again patted the girl's small hands. "I see. Well, that's good of
you to help your parents."
"I just want to go home."
"And you shall, child." Verna straightened. "We'll get you some food,
dear, so you have a full tummy before you go back to your parents."
The girl stood and curtsied. "Thank you for your kindness. May I go
back after I eat, then?"
"Certainly," Verna said. "I'll just go read the letter you brought
while you have a nice meal, and then you can return to your parents."
As she sat back up on the bench, squirming her bottom back beside
Holly, she couldn't help keeping a wary eye on the Mord-Sith.
Trying not to show any apprehension, Verna smiled her good-bye to the
girl before leading the others out of the tent. She couldn't even imagine
what Jagang was up to.
"What's in the letter?" Verna asked as they hurried to the command
tent.
General Meiffert paused outside the tent, his thumb burnishing a brass
button on his coat as he met Verna's gaze. "I'd just as soon you read it for
yourself, Prelate. Some of it is plain enough. Some of it, well, some of it
I'm hoping you can explain to me."
Stepping into the tent, Verna saw Captain Zimmer waiting off to the
side. The square-jawed man was absent his usual infectious smile. The
captain was in charge of the D'Haran special forces, a group of men whose
job it was to go out and spend their days and nights sneaking around in
enemy territory killing as many of the enemy as possible. There seemed to be
an endless supply. The captain seemed determined to use up the supply.
The men in Captain Zimmer's corps were very good at what they did. They
collected strings of ears they took from the enemies they killed. Kahlan
used to always ask to see their collection whenever they returned. The
captain and his men dearly missed her.
They all glanced up at a flash of lightning. The storm was getting
closer. After a moment's pause, the ground shook with the rolling rumble of
thunder.
General Meiffert retrieved a small folded paper from the table and
handed it to Verna.
"This is what the girl brought."
Looking briefly to the two men's grim expressions, Verna unfolded the
paper and read the neat script.
/ have Wizard Zorander and a sorceress named Adie. I now hold the
Wizard's Keep in Aydindril and all it contains. My Slide will soon present
me with Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor.
Your cause is lost. If you surrender now and open the passes, I will
spare your men. If you do not, I will put every one of them to death.
Signed, Jagang the Just.
The arm holding the paper in her trembling fingers lowered.
"Dear Creator," Verna whispered. She felt dizzy.
Rikka snatched the paper from her hand and stood facing away as she
read it. She cursed under her breath.
"We have to go get him," Rikka said. "We have to get Zedd and Adie away
from Jagang."
Captain Zimmer shook his head. "There is no way we could accomplish
such a thing."
Rikka's face went red with rage. "He's saved my life before! Yours,
too! We have to get him out of there!"
In contrast to Rikka's anger, Verna spoke softly. "We all feel the same
about him. Zedd has probably saved all of our lives more than once.
Unfortunately, Jagang will do all the worse to him for it."
Rikka shook the message before their faces. "So we are just going to
let him die there? Let Jagang kill him? We sneak in, or something!"
Captain Zimmer rested the heel of his hand on a long knife at his belt.
"Mistress Rikka, if I told you that I had a man hidden somewhere in this
camp, in one of the hundreds of thousands of tents, and no one would bother
you or ask you any questions, but would allow you to freely go about a
search, how long do you think it would take you to find such a hidden man?"
"But they won't be in just any tent," Rikka said. "Look at us, here.
This message came. Did it go to just any random tent in the whole camp? No,
it went to a place where such things are handled."
"I've been to the Imperial Order encampment too many times to count,"
Captain Zimmer said as he cast his arm out toward the enemy over the
mountains to the west. "You can't even imagine how big their camp is. They
have millions of men there.
"Their encampment is a quagmire of cutthroats. It's a place of chaos.
That disorder allows us to slip in, kill some of them, and get out fast. You
don't want to be there very long. They recognize outsiders, especially blond
outsiders.
"Moreover, there are layers of different kinds of men. Most of the
soldiers are little more than a mob of thugs that Jagang turns loose from
time to time. None of them are allowed beyond a certain point within their
own camp. The men guarding the areas with higher security are not nearly so
stupid and lazy as the common soldiers.
"The men in those protected areas aren't as numerous as the common
soldiers, but they are trained professionals. They are alert, vigilant, and
deadly. If you could somehow manage to get through the sea of misfits to
reach the island at the core where the torture and command tents are, those
professional soldiers would have you on the end of a pike in no time.
"Even they are not all the same. The outer ring of this core, besides
having these professionals guarding it, is where the Sisters are. They both
live there and use magic to watch for intruders. Beyond them are further
rings, starting with the elite guards, and then, finally, the emperor's
personal guards. These are men who have been fighting with Jagang for years.
They kill anyone, even the elite guard officers, if they become at all
suspicious of them. If they even hear word of someone saying disparaging
things about the emperor, they hunt them down and have them tortured. After
being tortured, if they live through it, they are then put to death.
"I'm not saying that my men and I would be unwilling to risk our lives
trying to get Zedd out of there; I'm saying that we would be giving our
lives up for nothing."
The mood in the tent could not have been more hopeless.
The general gestured with the paper when Rikka handed it back. "Any
idea what a Slide is, Prelate?"
Verna met his blue-eyed gaze. "A soul stealer."
The general frowned. "A what?"
"In the great war--three thousand years ago--the wizards of that time
created weapons out of people. Dream walkers, like Jagang, were one such
weapon. The best way I can explain it to you is that a Slide is in some ways
like a dream walker. A dream walker can enter a person's mind and seize
control of them. A Slide, I believe, is something like that, only he seizes
your spirit, your soul."
Rikka made a face. "Why?"
Verna lifted her hands in frustration. "I don't really know. To control
their victim, perhaps.
Altering gifted people was an ancient practice. They sometimes changed
gifted people with magic to suit a specific purpose. With Sub-tractive Magic
they took away traits they didn't want, and then they used Additive Magic to
add to or enhance a trait they did want. What they created were monsters.
"I'm not really well versed in the subject. When I became Prelate I had
access to books I had never seen before. That's where I saw the reference to
Slides. They were used to slip into another person's being and steal the
essence of who they where--their spirit, their soul.
"Altering people in such a way as to create these Slides is a long-dead
art. I'm afraid that I don't know a great deal about the subject. I do
remember reading that the ones called Slides were exceedingly dangerous."
"Long-dead art," the general muttered. He looked like he was making a
great effort to restrain himself. "Those wizards of that time made such
weapons as Slides, but how could Jagang? He's no wizard. Could it be that
he's lying?"
Verna thought about the question a moment. "He has gifted people under
his direct control. Some are able to use underworld magic. As I said, I
don't know a great deal about it, but I suppose it's possible that he was
able to do it."
"How?" the general demanded. "How could Jagang do such things? He's not
even a wizard."
Verna clasped her hands before herself. "He has Sisters of the Light
and the Dark. In theory, I suppose he has what he needs. He is a man who
studies history. I know from personal experience that he puts great value in
books. He has an extensive and quite valuable collection. Nathan, the
prophet, was very concerned about this very thing, and destroyed a number of
important volumes before they could fall into Jagang's possession.
"Still, the emperor possesses a great many others--in fact, he has a
huge collection. Now that he has captured the Keep, he has access to
important libraries. Those books are dangerous, or they wouldn't have been
sealed away in the Wizard's Keep in the first place."
"And now Jagang has control of them." General Meiffert ran his fingers
back through his hair. He gripped the back of the chair set before the small
table and leaned his weight on his arms. "Do you think he really has Zedd
and Adie?"
The question was a plea for some thread of hope. Verna swallowed as she
carefully considered the question. She answered in an honest voice, not
wanting to be the founder of a false faith. Since she'd read the message
from Jagang, she, herself, had been searching for that same thread of hope.
"I don't think he's a man who would find any satisfaction in bragging
about something he hadn't actually accomplished. I think he must be telling
us the truth and wants to gloat over his accomplishment."
The general released his grip on the chair and turned as he considered
Verna's words. Finally, he asked a question worse yet.
"Do you think he's telling the truth that this Slide has Lord Rahl and
the Mother Confessor? Do you think this terrible creation, this Slide, will
soon deliver the two of them to Jagang?"
Verna wondered if this was the reason for Ann and Nathan's headlong
rush down through the Old World. Verna knew that Richard and Kahlan were
down there, somewhere. There could be no more urgent reason for Ann and
Nathan to race south. Was it possible that this Slide had already captured
them, or captured their souls? Verna's heart sank. She wondered if Ann
already knew that the Slide had Richard, and that was why she wasn't saying
much about her mission.
"I don't know," Verna finally answered.
"I think Jagang just made a mistake," Captain Zimmer said.
Verna lifted an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"He has just betrayed to us how much trouble he's having with the
passes. He's just told us how well our defenses are working and how
desperate he is. If he doesn't get through this season, his whole army will
have to sit out another winter. He wants us to let him through.
"D'Haran winters are hard, especially on men such as his, men not used
to the conditions. I saw with my own eyes good indications of how many men
he lost last winter. Hundreds of thousands of men died from disease."
"He has plenty of men," General Meiffert said. "He can afford the
losses. He has a steady supply of new troops to replace the ones who died
from the fevers and sickness last winter."
"So, you think the captain is wrong?" Verna asked.
"No, I agree that Jagang would like very much to get it over with; I
just don't think he cares how many of his men die. I think he's eager to
rule the world. Patient as he generally is, he sees the end at hand, the
goal within his grasp. We're the only thing standing in his way, keeping his
prize from falling to him. His men, too, are impatient for the plunder.
"His choice to split the New World first by driving up to Aydindril has
left him close to his goal, but in some ways, even more distant from it. If
he can't make it through the passes, he may decide to pick up his army and
make a long march back south again, to the Kern River valley, to where he
can then come over and up into D'Hara. Once his army takes to the open
ground down south, there's no way for us to stop them.
"If he can't break through the passes now, it means a long march and a
long delay, but he will still have us in the end. He would rather have us
now and is willing to offer the lives of our men to close a deal."
Verna stared off. "It's a grave mistake to try to appease evil."
"I agree," General Meiffert said. "Once we opened the passes, he would
slaughter every last man."
The mood in the tent was as gloomy as the sky outside.
"I think we should send him back a letter," Rikka said. "I think we
should tell him that we don't believe him that he has Zedd and Adie. If he
expects us to believe him, he should prove it; he should send us their
heads."
Captain Zimmer smiled at the suggestion.
The general tapped a finger on the table as he thought it over. "If
it's as you say, Prelate, and Jagang really does have them, then there's
nothing we can do about it. He will kill them. After what Zedd did to
Jagang's force back in Aydindril, to say nothing of all the havoc he caused
the Imperial Order last summer when the Mother Confessor was with us, I know
it won't be an easy death, but he will kill them in the end."
"Then you agree that nothing else can be done," Verna said.
General Meiffert wiped a hand across his face. "I hate admitting it,
but I'm afraid they're lost. I don't think we should give Jagang the
satisfaction of knowing how we truly feel about it."
Verna's head spun at the thought of Zedd and Adie being put to torture,
of them being in the hands of Jagang and his Sisters of the Dark. She
quailed at the thought of the D'Haran forces losing Zedd. There simply was
no one with his experience and knowledge. There was no one who could replace
him.
"We write Jagang a letter, then," Verna said, "and tell Jagang we don't
believe he has Zedd and Adie."
"The only thing we can do," Rikka said, "is to deny Jagang what he
wants most. What he wants is for us to give up."
General Meiffert pulled out the chair at the table, inviting Verna to
sit and write the letter. "If Jagang is angered by such a letter, he just