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that had come out of the darkness. Scarcely had they caught their breath
when Richard was already charging onward to the bridge.
When they reached it, two slouching Imperial Order soldiers stood
guard, pikes standing upright. The guards seemed to be surprised that people
would be running toward them at night. Probably because the people of
Bandakar had never before dared to cause them any trouble, the two guards
stood watching Richard come until he pulled his sword from behind and took
them down with a rapid thrust to the first man and a powerful sweeping slice
that cut the second in two along with the pike standing at his side.
The small company raced unopposed across the bridge and into the
darkness among the crowded buildings. Owen directed Richard at every turn as
they rushed onward toward the place where Owen had hidden the antidote and
where he had recovered, instead of the antidote, the note demanding Kahlan
in exchange for Richard's life, in exchange for the lives of an empire naked
to the dark talents of Nicholas the Slide.
In the somber heart of the city made up of small, squat, mostly
single-story buildings, Owen pulled Richard to a stop. "Lord Rahl, down
here, at the corner, we turn to the right. A short distance beyond is a
square where people often gather. At the far end of the square will be a
building taller than those around it. That is the place. Down a small street
to the side of it, there will be an alleyway that runs behind the building.
That is the way I got in, before."
Richard nodded. "Let's go."
Without waiting to see if the tired men were with him, he started out,
keeping in close to the buildings, to the shadows cast by the moon. Richard
moved around the building at the corner. Hung over a small front window was
a carved sign displaying loaves of bread. It was still too early for the
baker to be at work.
Richard looked up and froze. There before him was the square with trees
and benches. The building across the open square was in ruin. Only
smoldering timbers remained. A small crowd had gathered around, watching
what had hours ago obviously been a large fire.
"Dear spirits," Jennsen whispered in horror. She covered her mouth,
fearing to speak aloud the worry on everyone's mind.
"She wouldn't be in there," Richard said in answer to the unspoken
fear. "Nicholas wouldn't take her back here just to kill her."
"Then why do this?" Anson asked. "Why burn the place down?"
Richard watched the wisps of smoke slowly curling up into the cool
night air, at his hopes disappearing. "To send me a message that he has her
and I'll not find her."
"Lord Rahl," Cara said under her breath, "I think we had better get out
of here."
From the darkness around the building that had burned down, Richard
could just start to make out the sight of soldiers by the hundreds, no doubt
waiting to catch them.
"I feared as much," Owen said. "That's why I brought us in by such a
circuitous route. See that road over there, where all the soldiers are?
That's the road coming from the bridge we crossed."
"How do they always know where we are, or where we will be?" Jennsen
whispered in frustration. "And when?"
Cara grabbed Richard's shirt and started pulling him back. "There are
too many. We don't know how many more are around us. We need to get out of
here."
Richard was loath to admit it, but she was right.
"We have men waiting for us," Tom reminded him. "And a lot more
coming."
Richard's mind raced. Where was she?
Finally he nodded. The instant he did, Cara took him by his arm and
they dashed off into the darkness.
Under the sweep of stars, Richard willed himself to stand up straight
and tall before all the men gathered beneath the spreading branches of the
oak trees at the forest's edge. A few candles burned among the gathering so
they could all see. By the time they charged into the city of Northwick to
make their attack, it would just be light.
Richard wanted nothing more than to get into the city and find Kah-lan,
but he had to use everything he had at hand to help, or he might waste the
chance. He had to do this, first.
Most of these men had never really fought before. Owen and Anson's men
from the town of Witherton had been there at the first attack on the
sleeping houses and had taken part in the skirmishes there. The rest of the
men were from Northwick, where Richard had gone to see the Wise One. They
had been in on the clashes with the soldiers who weren't poisoned. There had
not been a great many enemy soldiers to fight, but the men had done what had
to be done. If anything, those minor but bloody encounters had served only
to make the men more determined, showing them that they could win freedom
themselves, that they were in control of their own destiny.
This, though, was different. This was going to be a battle on a scale
they had not experienced. Worse, it was in a city that had, for the most
part, willingly joined with the Order's cause. The populace was not likely
to offer much help.
Had he more time, Richard might have come up with a better plan that
would have chipped away at the enemy's numbers, first, but there was no
time. It had to be now.
Richard stood before the men, hoping to give them something to help
them carry the day. He had trouble thinking of anything but finding Kahlan.
In order to have the best chance to save her, he put her from his mind and
focused on the task at hand.
"I had hoped we wouldn't have to do it this way," he said. "I had hoped
we could do it in some manner like we've done before, with the fire, or the
poisoning, so that none of you would be hurt. We don't have that option.
Nicholas knows we're here. If we run, his men will come after us. Some of us
might escape . . . for a while."
"We are finished running," Anson said.
"That's right," Owen agreed. "We have learned that running and hiding
brings only greater suffering."
Richard nodded. "I agree. But you must understand that some of us are
probably going to die, today. Maybe most of us. Maybe all of us. If any of
you choose not to fight, then we must know now. Once we go in, we'll all be
depending on each other."
He clasped his hands behind his back as he paced slowly before them. It
was hard to make out their faces in the dim light. Richard knew, too, that
his time was running out. His sight would only get worse. His dizziness
would only get worse.
He knew he was never going to get better.
If he was to have a chance to get Kahlan away from the men of the
Order, it had to be at once, with these men or without them.
When none said that they wanted to quit, Richard went on. "We need to
get to their commanders for two reasons: to find out where the Mother
Confessor is being held, and to eliminate them so that they can't direct
their soldiers against us.
"You all have weapons, now, and in the limited time we've had, we've
done our best to teach you how to use them. There's one other thing you must
know. You will be afraid. So will I.
"To overcome this fear, you must use your anger."
"Anger?" one of the men asked. "How can we bring forth anger when we're
afraid?"
"These men have raped your wives, your sisters, your mothers,
daughters, aunts, cousins, and neighbors," Richard said as he paced. "Think
about that, when you look into the enemy's eyes as they come at you. They
have taken most of the women away. You all know why. They have tortured
children to make you give up. Think about the terror of your children as
they screamed in fear and pain, dying bloody and alone after being mutilated
by these men."
The heat of Richard's anger seeped into his words. "Think about that
when you see their confident grins as they come at you. These men have
tortured people you loved, people who never did anything against them. Think
about that as these men come at you with their bloodstained hands.
"These men have sent many of your people away to be used as slaves.
Many more of your people have been murdered by these men. Think about that,
when they come to murder you, too.
"This is not about a difference of opinion, or a disagreement. There
can be no debate or uncertainty about this among moral men. This is about
rape, torture, murder."
Richard turned and faced the men. "Think about that, when you face
these beasts." He tapped a fist to his chest as he ground his teeth. "And
when you face these men, men who have done all these things to you and your
loved ones, face them with hate in your hearts. Fight them with hate in your
hearts. Kill them with hate in your hearts. They deserve no better."
The woods were silent as the men considered his chilling words. Richard
knew that he had rage enough, and hate enough, to be eager to get at the men
of the Imperial Order.
He didn't know where Kahlan was, but he intended to find out and to
have her back. She had done as she had to in order to get the antidote to
save his life. He understood what she had done, and couldn't fault her for
it--that was the kind of woman she was. She loved him just as fiercely as he
loved her. She had done what she had to do.But he was not going to let her
down. She was depending on him to come for her.
The terrible irony was that it had all been for nothing. The antidote
she had made such a sacrifice to obtain was no antidote at all.
Richard looked out at all their faces, so intent on what he had to tell
them on the eve of such a momentous battle, and remembered, then, the words
on the statue at the entrance to this land, the words of the Wizard's Eighth
Rule: Taiga Vassternich.
"There is one last thing to tell you," he said. "The most important
thing of all."
Richard faced them as the leader of the D'Haran Empire, an empire
struggling to survive, to be free, and told them those two words in their
language.
"Deserve Victory."
It was just turning light as they charged into the city. Only one of
them had remained behind: Jennsen. Richard had forbidden her from joining
the fight. Besides being young and not nearly as strong as the men they
would come up against, she would only create a tempting target. Rape was a
sacred weapon of the wicked, and one this enemy used religiously. The men of
the Imperial Order would rally for such a prize. Cara was different; she was
a trained warrior and more lethal than any of them except Richard.
Jennsen hadn't been pleased to be left behind, but she had understood
Richard's reasons and hadn't wanted to give him anything else to worry
about. She and Betty had remained behind in the woods.
A man they had sent out to scout because he knew the area well emerged
from a side alley. As they reached him they all moved up against the wall,
trying to remain out of sight as best they could.
"I found them," the scout said, trying to catch his breath. He pointed
to the right of their route into the city.
"How many?" Richard asked.
"I think it must be their main force within the city, Lord Rahl. It's
where they sleep. They seem to still be there, as you expected, and not yet
up. The place they've taken over contains buildings for city offices and
administration. But I bring troubling news, as well. They are being
protected by the people of the city."
Richard ran his fingers back through his hair. He had to concentrate to
keep from coughing. He gripped the window frame of the building beside him
to help himself stand.
"What do you mean, they are being protected?"
"There are crowds of people from the city surrounding the place
occupied by the soldiers. The people are there to protect the soldiers--
from us. They are there to stop us from attacking."
Richard let out an angry breath. "All right." He turned back to the
worried, expectant faces of all the men. "Now, listen to me. We are joined
in a battle against evil. If anyone sides with evil, if they protect evil
men, then they are serving to perpetuate evil."
One of the men looked unsure. "Are you saying that if they try to stop
us, we might have to use force against them?"
"What is it these people seek to accomplish? What is their goal? They
want to prevent us from eliminating the Imperial Order. Because they hate
life, they despise freedom more than slavery."
With grim determination, Richard met the men's gazes. "I'm saying that
anyone who protects the enemy and seeks to keep them in power, for whatever
reason, has sided with them. It's no more complicated than that. If they try
to protect the enemy or hamper us from doing as we must--kill them."
"But they aren't armed," a man said.
Richard's anger flared. "They are armed--armed with evil ideas that
seek to enslave the world. If they succeed, you die.
"Saving the lives of innocent people and your loved ones--and having
far less loss of life in the end--is best served by crushing the enemy as
decisively and quickly as possible. Then there will be peace. If these
people try to prevent that, then they are, in effect, siding with those who
torture and murder--they help them to live another day to murder again. Such
people must not be treated any differently than what they in truth are:
servants of evil.
"If they try to stop you, kill them."
There was a moment of silence; then Anson put a fist to his heart.
"With hate in my heart... vengeance without mercy."
Looks of iron determination spread back through the men. They all put
fists to their hearts in salute and took up the pledge. "Vengeance without
mercy!"
Richard clapped Anson on the side of the shoulder. "Let's go."
They raced out from the long shadows of the buildings and poured around
the corner. The people off at the end of the street all turned when they
spotted Richard's force coming. More people--men and women from the
city--surged into the street in front of the compound of buildings the
soldiers had taken up as barracks and a command post. The people looked like
a scraggly lot.
"No war! No war! No war!" the people shouted as Richard led the men up
the street at a dead run.
"Out of the way!" Richard yelled as he closed the distance. This was no
time for subtlety or discussions; the success of their attack depended in
large part on speed. "Get out of the way! This is your only warning! Get out
of the way or die!"
"Stop the hate! Stop the hate!" the people chanted as they locked arms.
They had no idea how much hate was raging through Richard. He drew the
Sword of Truth. The wrath of its magic didn't come out with it, but he had
enough of his own. He slowed to a trot.
"Move!" Richard called as he bore down on the people.
A plump, curly-haired woman took a step out from the others. Her round
face was red with anger as she screamed. "Stop the hate! No war! Stop the
hate! No war!"
"Move or die!" Richard yelled as he picked up speed.
The red-faced woman shook her fleshy fist at Richard and his men,
leading an angry chant. "Murderers! Murderers! Murderers!"
On his way past her, gritting his teeth as he screamed with the fury of
the attack begun, Richard took a powerful swing, lopping off the woman's
head and upraised arm. Strings of blood and gore splashed across the faces
behind her even as some still chanted their empty words. The head and loose
arm tumbled through the crowd. A man made the mistake of reaching for
Richard's weapon, and took the full weight of a charging thrust.
Men behind Richard hit the line of evil's guardians with unrestrained
violence. People armed only with their hatred for moral clarity fell
bloodied, terribly injured, and dead. The line of people collapsed before
the merciless charge. Some of the people, screaming their contempt, used
their fists to attack Richard's men. They were met with swift and deadly
steel.
At the realization that their defense of the Imperial Order's brutality
would actually result in consequences to themselves, the crowd began
scattering in fright, screaming curses back at Richard and his men.
Richard's army did not pause as they tore through the ring of
protectors, now on the run, but continued on to the maze of buildings among
grassy open spaces dotted with trees. The soldiers who were outside began to
realize that this time they would have to protect themselves, that the
people of the city could no longer do it for them. These were men used to
slaughtering defenseless, docile victims. For more than a year of occupation
they had not had to fight.
Richard was the first on them, taking down men on his way into their
midst. Cara charged in at his right, Tom at his left, the deadly point of a
spear driving into soldiers only now pulling free their weapons. These were
men used to overwhelming their cowering opponents with sheer numbers, not
with fighting resolute opposition. They did so now, and for their lives.
Richard moved through them as if they were statues. They thrust a blade
at where he had been, while he cut where they were going and met them there
with razor-sharp steel. He came up behind others as they looked both ways,
losing track of him, only to have him reach around and draw his sword across
their throats. Others he beheaded before they realized he was about to
strike.
He wasted no effort with exaggerated movements and wild slashes. He cut
with deadly proficiency. He didn't try to best men to show them he was
better; he simply killed them. He didn't give them any chance to fight back;
he cut them down before they could.
Now that he was committed to the fight, he was committed to the dance
with death, which meant one thing: cut. It was his duty, his purpose, his
hunger to cut the enemy down quickly, resolutely, and utterly.
They were not prepared for this level of violence unleashed.
As his men fell on the soldiers, a great cry rose up. As men fell,
their screams filled the morning.
Seeing a man who looked like an officer, Richard wheeled around him and
laid his blade across the man's throat.
"Where is Nicholas and the Mother Confessor?"
The man answered by trying to grab Richard's arm. He wasn't nearly
quick enough. Richard pulled his sword across the man's throat, nearly
severing his head, as he spun to a man coming at him from behind. The man
skidded to a stop in an effort to avoid Richard's blade, only to be stabbed
through the heart.
The battle raged on, moving back between the buildings as they took
down those men who met the attack. Yet more men, layered in leather, mail,
hides, and weapon belts, came out of the barracks at hearing the clash. They
were fierce-looking men looking better suited to murder than any men Richard
had ever seen.
As they came onward, Richard seized anyone who looked like an officer.
None of them were able to give him an answer. None of them knew the
whereabouts of either Nicholas or Kahlan.
Richard had to fight off the dizziness as well as the soldiers. By
focusing on the dance with death and the precepts the sword had taught him
in the past, he was able to surmount the effects of the poison. He knew that
such efforts couldn't long replace the required strength of endurance, but
for the moment he was able to do as he had to.
It was somewhat surprising to see how well his men were doing. They
helped one another as they moved deeper into the enemy lines. By fighting in
that way, using one another's strengths, they were often able to survive
together where one alone would not have.
Some of his men had not survived; Richard saw several lying dead. But
the surprised enemy was being slaughtered. The Imperial Order soldiers were
not charged with righteous, resolute determination. Richard's men were. The
Order soldiers were little more than a gang of thugs allowed to run loose.
They now faced men calling them to ac-count. The men of the Order fought a
disorderly attempt to spare their own individual lives, without thought to a
coordinated defense, while Richard's men fought to a singular purpose of
exterminating the enemy's entire force.
Richard heard Cara calling urgently for him from the narrow space
between two buildings. At first, he thought she was in trouble, but when he
rounded the corner he saw then that she had a husky man on his knees. She
held his head up by a fistful of his greasy black hair. One ear displayed a
row of silver rings. Cara had her Agiel at his throat. Blood ran down his
chin.
"Tell him!" she yelled at the man when Richard ran up.
"I don't know where they are!"
In a fit of fury, Cara slammed the tip of her Agiel to the base of the
man's skull. He flinched, his arms shaking with the shattering shock of pain
that brought a gasp rather than a scream. His eyes rolled back in his head.
Holding him by his tangled hair, Cara bent him back over her knee to hold
him upright.
"Tell him," she growled.
"They left," he mumbled. "Nicholas left last night. They carried a
woman away with them, but I don't know who she was."
Richard went to a knee and grabbed the man's shirt. "What did she look
like?"
The man's eyes were still rolling. "Long hair."
"Where did they go?"
"Don't know. Gone. In a hurry."
"What did Nicholas tell you before he left?"
The man's eyes slowly came into focus. "Nicholas knew you were going to
attack at dawn. He told me the route you would take into the city."
Richard could hardly believe what he was hearing. "How could he
possibly know that?"
He hesitated. The sight of Cara's Agiel made him talk.
"I don't know. Before he left, Nicolas told me how many men you had,
told me when you would attack, and by which route. He told me to get people
from the city to shield us from your attack. We gathered our most fanatical
supporters and told them that you were coming to murder us, that you wanted
to make war."
"When did Nicholas leave? Where did he take this woman?"
Blood dripped from the man's chin. "I don't know. They just left in a
hurry last night. That's all I know."
"If you knew we were coming, why didn't you make a better defense?"
"Oh, but we did. Nicholas told me to take care of the city. I assured
him that such a small force as yours cannot possibly defeat us."
Something was terribly wrong. "Why not?"
For the first time, the man smiled. "Because you don't know how many
men we really have. Once I knew where your attack was coming, I was able to
call in all my forces." The man's smile widened. "Do you hear that horn in
the distance? Here they come." A belly laugh rolled up. "You are about to
die."
Richard gritted his teeth. "You first."
With a mighty thrust, he ran his sword through the officer's heart. The
man's eyes widened in shock. Richard gave the blade a twist as he withdrew
it to be sure the job was done.
"We'd better get the men out of here," Richard said as he took Cara's
arm and ran for the corner of the buildings.
"Looks like we're too late," she said when they came out from behind
cover and saw the legions of men pouring in all around them.
How did Nicholas know when and where they were going to attack? There
had been no one around--no races, not so much as a mouse had been there when
they had made their plans as they moved through the countryside. How could
he have known?
"Dear spirits," Cara said. "I didn't think they had this many men in
Bandakar."
The roar of the soldiers was deafening as they charged in. Richard was
already spent. Each deep breath he pulled was agonizingly painful. He knew
that there was no choice.
He had to find a way to get to Kahlan. He had to hold out at least that
long.
Richard whistled in a signal to gather his men. As Anson and Owen ran
up. Richard looked around and saw most of the others.
"We have to try to break out of here. There's too many of them. Slay
together. We're going to try to punch through. If we make it, scatter and
try to make it back to the forest."
With Cara at one side, Tom at the other, Richard charged at the head of
his men toward the enemy lines. Thousands of the Imperial Order soldiers
poured out from the city around them and into the open. It was a frightening
sight. There were so many that it almost seemed as if the ground itself were
moving.
Before Richard reached the soldiers, the morning suddenly lit with
blinding blasts of fire. Thunderous eruptions of flame tore through the
enemy lines, killing men by the hundreds. Sod, trees, and men were hurled
into the air. Men, their clothes, hair, and flesh burning, tumbled across
the ground.
Richard heard a howl coming from behind. It sounded somehow familiar.
He turned just in time to see a roiling ball of liquid yellow flame wailing
through the air toward them. It expanded as it came, tumbling with seething,
deadly intensity.
Wizard's fire.
The incandescent, white-hot inferno roared by just overhead. Once past
Richard and his men, it descended, crashing down among the enemy soldiers,
spilling a flood of liquid death out among them. Wizard's fire stuck to what
it touched, burning with ferocious intensity. A single droplet of it would
burn down through a man's leg to the bone. It was horrifyingly deadly. It
was said to be so excruciatingly painful that those who lived longed only
for death.
The question was, who was it coming from?
To the other side, men of the Order fell as something scythed through
their ranks. It almost looked as if a single blade cut them down by the
hundreds, ripping them apart with bloody ferocity. But who was doing it?
There was no time to stand around and wonder. Richard and his men had
to turn to meet the soldiers who made it through the devastating conjuring.
Now that their numbers had been so thinned, the Imperial Order soldiers were
unable to mount an effective attack. Their charge fell apart on the blades
of Richard's men.
As they fought, more deadly fire came in to catch those trying to run,
or those who massed to attack. In other places, Order soldiers fell without
Richard or his men touching them. They gasped in great agony, clutching
their chests, and fell dead.
Before long, the morning fell silent but for the groans of the wounded.
Richard's men rallied around him, unsure of what had happened, worried that
whatever had befallen these men might suddenly turn and befall them as well.
Richard realized that they didn't see the attack of wizard's fire and magic
in the same way as he did; to them it must seem a miracle of salvation.
Richard spotted two people beside one of the buildings off to the side
of the grounds. One was taller than the other. He squinted, trying to make
them out, but he just couldn't see who they were. With a hand on Tom's
shoulder for support, they headed toward the two figures.
"Richard, my boy," Nathan said when Richard made it over to him. "So
good to find you well."
Ann, a squat woman in a plain gray dress, smiled that knowing smile of
hers, so filled with joy, satisfaction, and at the same time a kind of
knowing tolerance.
"I doubt you two could imagine how glad I am to see you," Richard said,
still catching his breath, trying not to breathe too deeply. "But what are
you doing here? How in the world did you find me?"
Nathan leaned in with a sly smile. "Prophecy, my boy."
Nathan wore high boots and a ruffled white shirt with a vest and an
elegant green velvet cape attached at his right shoulder. The prophet cut
quite the figure.
Richard saw then that Nathan was wearing an exquisite sword in a
polished scabbard. It seemed to Richard rather odd for a wizard who could
command wizard's fire to carry a sword. It seemed even more odd to see the
man abruptly draw the weapon.
Ann suddenly gasped as someone sprang from behind the building and
grabbed her. It was one of the people from the city who had gathered to
protect the army--a tall, slender, pinched-faced woman with a formidable
scowl and a long knife.
"You are murderers!" she cried, her straight hair whipping side to
side. "You are filled with hate!"
The ground around Ann and the woman erupted, chunks of dirt and grass
flying up into the air. Ann, a sorceress, was apparently trying to fight off
her attacker. The woman was unaffected. Against a pristinely ungifted
person, magic wasn't working.
Nathan, not far to the side of Ann, stepped in and without ado ran the
tall woman through with his sword. The woman staggered back, his sword
through her chest, her face a picture of surprise. She dropped, sliding off
the red blade.
Ann, free of her attacker, glanced at the dead woman. She fixed Nathan
in a scowl. "Dashing indeed."
Nathan smiled at her private joke. "I told you, they aren't touched by
magic."
"Nathan," Richard said, "I still don't understand--"
"Come here, my dear," Nathan said, signaling off behind him.
Jennsen ran out from behind the building. She threw her arms around
Richard.
"I'm so glad you're all right," she said. "I hope you aren't angry with
me. Nathan showed up in the woods not long after you and the men left. I
remembered seeing him before--at the People's Palace in D'Hara. I knew he
was a Rahl, so I told him the trouble we were in. He and Ann wanted to help.
We came as fast as we could."
Jennsen looked expectantly up at Richard. He answered her worry with a
hug.
"You did the right thing," he told her. "You used your head for
something the orders didn't anticipate."
Now that the heat of battle had ended, Richard was dizzier than ever.
He had to lean on Tom for support.
Nathan put a shoulder under Richard's other arm. "I hear you're having
trouble with your gift. Maybe I can help."
"I don't have time. Nicholas the Slide has Kahlan. I have to find her
or--"
"Don't play a fool when you aren't," Nathan said. "It won't take long
to bring your gift into harmony. You need the help of another wizard to get
it under control--like the last time I helped you--or you won't be of any
use to anyone. Come on, let's get you inside one of these places where it's
quiet. Then I can take care of that much of your troubles."
Richard wanted nothing more than to find Kahlan, but he didn't know
where to look. He felt like falling into the man's arms and surrendering his
destiny to him, to his experience, to his vast knowledge. Richard knew
Nathan was right. He felt like crying with relief that help was finally at
hand. Who better to help him get his gift back under control than a wizard?
Richard had never even dared to hope to have this opportunity; he had
planned on trying to get to Nicci because she was the only one he could
think of who might know what to do. This was infinitely better than a
sorceress helping him.
A wizard was the only one really meant to help with this kind of
trouble with another wizard's gift.
"Just make it quick," he told Nathan.
Nathan smiled that Rahl smile of his. "Come on, then. We'll have your
gift back to right in no time at all."
"Thank you, Nathan," Richard mumbled as he let the big man help him
through a nearby doorway.
Richard sat cross-legged on the wood floor facing Nathan. The barren
room had no furniture. Nathan said none was needed, that the floor was fine
with him. Ann, not far away, sat on the floor as well. Richard was a little
surprised that Nathan was allowing her to observe, but didn't question it.
There was the possibility that he might want to have her help for some part
of it.
Everyone else waited outside. Cara wasn't happy about allowing Richard
out of her sight, but Richard calmed her concern by telling her that he
would feel more comfortable and able to concentrate on correcting the
problem with his gift if he knew she was outside keeping an eye on
everything for him.
The two windows had been shuttered, allowing in only dim light and
keeping out most of the noise. With his hands on his knees, the prophet
pushed his back straighter and, drawing a deep breath, seemed to pull an
aura of authority around himself. Nathan was the one who had first taught
Richard about his gift, telling him how war wizards, like Richard, weren't
like other wizards. Instead of tapping the core of power within themselves,
they directed their intent through their feelings.
It had been a difficult concept to grasp. Nathan had told Richard that
his power worked through anger.
"Lose yourself in my eyes," Nathan said in a quiet voice.
Richard knew he had to try to put his worry for Kahlan aside.
Trying to keep his breathing steady so as not to cough, he stared into
Nathan's hooded, deep, dark, azure eyes. Nathan's gaze drew him in. Richard
felt as if he were falling up into the clear blue sky. His breath came in
ragged pulls, and not of his own doing. He felt Nathan's commanding words
more than heard them.
"Call forth the anger, Richard. Call forth the rage. Call forth the
hate and fury."
Richard's head was swimming. He concentrated on calling his anger. He
thought about Nicholas having Kahlan and he had no trouble summoning rage.
He could feel another force within his own, as if he were drowning and
someone were trying to hold his head above water.
He drifted, alone, in a dark and still place. Time seemed to mean
nothing.
Time.
He had to get to Kahlan in time. He was her only chance.
Richard opened his eyes. "Nathan, I'm sorry, but..."
Nathan was drenched in sweat. Ann was sitting beside him, holding
Richard's left hand, Nathan his right. Richard wondered what had happened.
Richard looked from one face to the other. "What's wrong?"
They both looked grim. "We tried," Nathan whispered. "I'm sorry, but we
tried."
Richard frowned. They had only just begun.
"What do you mean? Why are you giving up so soon?"
Nathan cast a sidelong glance at Ann. "We've been at it for two hours.
Richard."
"Two hours?"
"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do, my boy." By the sound of his
voice, he meant it.
Richard ran his fingers back through his hair. "What are you talking
about? You're the one who told me the last time, when I had this problem,
joining with a wizard would set it straight. You said it was a simple matter
for a wizard to fix such a disharmony with the gift."
"That's the way it should be. But your gift is somehow tangled up into
a knot that's strangling you."
"But you're a prophet, a wizard. Ann, you're a sorceress. Together you
both probably know more about magic than anyone who has lived in thousands
of years."
"Richard, there has not been another born like you in the last three
thousand years. We don't know that much about how your particular gift
works." Ann paused to push stray strands of gray hair back into the bun at
the back of her head. "We tried, Richard. I swear to you, we both tried our
best. Your gift is beyond Nathan's help, even with my ability enhancing his
power. We tried everything we know, and even a few things we thought up.
None of it had any effect. We cannot help you."
"So, what must I do?"
Nathan's azure eyes turned away. "Your gift is killing you, Richard. I
don't know the cause, but I'm afraid that it has spiraled into a phase that
is out of control and fatal."
Ann's eyes were wet. "Richard ... I'm so sorry."
Richard looked from one distraught face to the other.
"I guess it doesn't really matter," Richard said.
Nathan frowned. "What do you mean it doesn't matter?"
Richard rose up, groping for the wall to keep his balance. "I've been
poisoned. The antidote is gone.... There is no cure. I'm afraid that I'm
running out of time. I guess the joke is on my gift--something else is going
to get me first."
Ann stood and gripped his upper arms. "Richard, we can't help you right
now, but you can at least rest while we try to figure out--"
"No." Richard waved off her concern. "No. I can't waste what little
time I have left. I have to get to Kahlan."
Ann cleared her throat. "Richard, at the Palace of the Prophets, Nathan
and I waited for your birth for a very long time. We worked to clear those
obstacles that Prophecy showed us lay in your path. The prophecies name you
as central to the course of the future of the world. In fact, they say you
are the only one with a chance; we need you to lead us in this battle.
"We don't know what is wrong with your gift, but we can work on
You must be here so that if we come up with a solution, we can set your
power right."
"I'll not live for you to cure me. Don't you see? The poison is killing
me. It has three states. I'm already entering the third state: blindness.
I'm going to die. I must use what time I have left to find Kahlan. You
aren't going to have me to lead you, but if I can get her away from
Nicholas, you will have her to lead the struggle in my place."
"You know where she is, then?" Nathan asked.
Richard realized that in the state of focused, concentrated thought, as
he was adrift in that quiet place while Nathan was trying to help him, it
had come to him where Nicholas most likely had taken Kahlan. He had to get
there while Nicholas was still there with her.
"Yes, I believe I do."
Richard pulled open the door. Cara, sitting right outside, shot to her
feet. Her expectant expression quickly withered when he shook his head,
signaling that it hadn't worked.
"We have to get going. Right away. I think I know where Nicholas took
Kahlan. We have to hurry."
"You know?" Jennsen asked, holding Betty close by the rope.
"Yes. We need to leave at once."
"Where is she, then?" Jennsen asked.
Richard gestured. "Owen, remember how you told us about a fortified
encampment the Imperial Order built when they first came to Ban-dakar and
they were worried about their safety?"
"Back near my town," Owen said.
Richard nodded. "That's right. I think Nicholas took Kahlan there. It's
a secure place they built to hold some of the women captive. There would be
plenty of soldiers to protect him and it's the kind of place built
specifically to be defensible, so it would be much more difficult to
approach than his place, here, in the city."
"Then how will we approach it?" Jennsen asked.
"We'll have to figure that out once we get there and see the place."
Nathan joined Richard at the door. "Ann and I will go with you. We
might be able to help rescue Kahlan from the Slide. While we travel the two
of us can work on a solution for untangling your gift."
Richard gripped Nathan's shoulder. "There are no horses in this land.
If you can run and keep up with us, you're welcome, but I can't afford to
slow for you. I don't have much time, and neither does Kahlan. Nicholas will
not likely hold her there long. After he pauses for rest and supplies and
then leaves this land, it will be even more difficult to find him. We have
no time to lose. We're going to have to travel as swiftly as possible."
Nathan's eyes turned down in disappointment.
Ann drew Richard into a brief hug. "We're far too old to keep up the
speed afoot that you and these young people can. When you get her away from
the Slide, come back and we'll do our best to help you. We'll work on the
problem while you're getting her out of his clutches. Come back then, and
we'll have a solution."
Richard knew that he would never live that long, but there was no point
in saying it. "All right. What can you tell me about a Slide?"
Nathan drew his thumb along his jaw as he considered the question.
"Slides are soul stealers. There is no defense against them. Even I would be
powerless to stop them."
Richard didn't suppose that needed any explanation. "Cara, Jennsen,
Tom, you can come with me."
"What about us?" Owen asked.
Anson stood close by, looking eager to be included, and nodded at
Owen's suggestion. There were others as well, who had stood vigil outside
the place where Nathan had tried to help Richard. They were all men who had
fought hard. If he was to get Kahlan back, he would likely need some men, at
least.
"Your help would be welcome. I think most of the men should stay here
with Nathan and Ann. The people here in Hawton need to have you men explain
everything to them--help them to understand all that you've learned. They
will need to make some changes to adjust to interacting with the world out
there now open to them."
As Richard started away, Nathan grabbed ahold of his sleeve. "Richard,
as far as I know, you have no defense against a soul stealer, but there is
one thing I recall from an old tome in the vaults in the Palace of the
Prophets."
"I'm listening."
"They somehow travel outside their body ... send their own spirit out."
Richard rubbed his fingertips across his brow as he thought about
Nathan's words. "That has to be how he was watching me, tracking me. I
believe he watched me through the eyes of huge birds that live here, called
black-tipped races. If what you're saying is right, then maybe he leaves his
body in order to do this." Richard looked up at Nathan. "How does this help
me?"
Nathan leaned closer, cocking his head to peer with one azure eye.
"That is when they are vulnerable--when they are out of their body."
Richard lifted his sword a few inches in the scabbard to be sure it was
clear. "Any idea how to catch him outside of his body?" He let the sword
drop back.
Nathan straightened. "Afraid not."
Richard nodded his thanks anyway and stepped down out of the doorway.
"Owen, how far is this fortified encampment?"
"Back close to where the path used to go out through the boundary."
That was why Richard hadn't seen it; they had come on the ancient route
used by Kaja-Rang. Ordinarily, it would be a journey of well over a week.
They didn't have nearly that long.
He took in all the faces watching him. "Nicholas has quite a head start
on us and he will be in a hurry to escape with his prize. If we travel
swiftly and don't stop long to rest, there's a good chance we can still
catch up with him by the time he reaches their encampment. We need to be on
our way at once."
"We're only waiting for you, Lord Rahl," Cara said.
So was Kahlan.
Each day of hard travel, Richard's condition worsened, but his fear for
Kahlan drove him relentlessly onward. Most of the time, hour after hour,
through sunlight, darkness, and occasional rain, they ran at a steady lope.
Richard used a staff he'd cut himself to help keep his balance. When he
thought he would be unable to go on, Richard deliberately picked up the pace
to remind himself that he could not give up. They stopped at night only long
enough to get a few hours' sleep.
The men had trouble keeping up with him. Cara and Jennsen didn't; they
were both used to strenuous exertion in the course of difficult journeys.
All of them, though, were so exhausted from the unrelenting pace that they
talked only when necessary. Richard drove himself doggedly, trying not to
think about his own hopeless condition. It didn't matter. He reminded
himself that with every step they ran, if it was fast enough, they were
gaining on Nicholas and just that much closer to Kahlan.
In moments of despair, Richard told himself that Kahlan had to be
alive, that Nicholas could have killed her long ago if that was his
intention. He wouldn't have run if she were dead. Kahlan would be much more
valuable to him alive.
In a way, he felt an odd kind of relief. He could push as hard as he
needed. He didn't have to worry about his health. There was no antidote to
the poison. Given the time, it would kill him. There was no solution to the
problem of his gift being out of control; that, too, would kill him. There
was nothing Richard could do about either. He was going to die.
The wooded hills were easy enough traveling. They were open, with
broad, green meadows sprinkled with wildflowers and a patchwork of
grassland. Wildlife was abundant. Were he not dying, in pain, and sick with
worry for Kahlan, Richard might have enjoyed the beauty of the land. Now it
was just an obstacle.
The sun in his eyes was slipping down behind the towering mountains.
Soon darkness would be upon them. A little earlier, Richard had used his bow
to take a buck when the opportunity presented itself. Tom had made quick
work of butchering it. The rest of them needed to eat, or they would not be
when Richard was already charging onward to the bridge.
When they reached it, two slouching Imperial Order soldiers stood
guard, pikes standing upright. The guards seemed to be surprised that people
would be running toward them at night. Probably because the people of
Bandakar had never before dared to cause them any trouble, the two guards
stood watching Richard come until he pulled his sword from behind and took
them down with a rapid thrust to the first man and a powerful sweeping slice
that cut the second in two along with the pike standing at his side.
The small company raced unopposed across the bridge and into the
darkness among the crowded buildings. Owen directed Richard at every turn as
they rushed onward toward the place where Owen had hidden the antidote and
where he had recovered, instead of the antidote, the note demanding Kahlan
in exchange for Richard's life, in exchange for the lives of an empire naked
to the dark talents of Nicholas the Slide.
In the somber heart of the city made up of small, squat, mostly
single-story buildings, Owen pulled Richard to a stop. "Lord Rahl, down
here, at the corner, we turn to the right. A short distance beyond is a
square where people often gather. At the far end of the square will be a
building taller than those around it. That is the place. Down a small street
to the side of it, there will be an alleyway that runs behind the building.
That is the way I got in, before."
Richard nodded. "Let's go."
Without waiting to see if the tired men were with him, he started out,
keeping in close to the buildings, to the shadows cast by the moon. Richard
moved around the building at the corner. Hung over a small front window was
a carved sign displaying loaves of bread. It was still too early for the
baker to be at work.
Richard looked up and froze. There before him was the square with trees
and benches. The building across the open square was in ruin. Only
smoldering timbers remained. A small crowd had gathered around, watching
what had hours ago obviously been a large fire.
"Dear spirits," Jennsen whispered in horror. She covered her mouth,
fearing to speak aloud the worry on everyone's mind.
"She wouldn't be in there," Richard said in answer to the unspoken
fear. "Nicholas wouldn't take her back here just to kill her."
"Then why do this?" Anson asked. "Why burn the place down?"
Richard watched the wisps of smoke slowly curling up into the cool
night air, at his hopes disappearing. "To send me a message that he has her
and I'll not find her."
"Lord Rahl," Cara said under her breath, "I think we had better get out
of here."
From the darkness around the building that had burned down, Richard
could just start to make out the sight of soldiers by the hundreds, no doubt
waiting to catch them.
"I feared as much," Owen said. "That's why I brought us in by such a
circuitous route. See that road over there, where all the soldiers are?
That's the road coming from the bridge we crossed."
"How do they always know where we are, or where we will be?" Jennsen
whispered in frustration. "And when?"
Cara grabbed Richard's shirt and started pulling him back. "There are
too many. We don't know how many more are around us. We need to get out of
here."
Richard was loath to admit it, but she was right.
"We have men waiting for us," Tom reminded him. "And a lot more
coming."
Richard's mind raced. Where was she?
Finally he nodded. The instant he did, Cara took him by his arm and
they dashed off into the darkness.
Under the sweep of stars, Richard willed himself to stand up straight
and tall before all the men gathered beneath the spreading branches of the
oak trees at the forest's edge. A few candles burned among the gathering so
they could all see. By the time they charged into the city of Northwick to
make their attack, it would just be light.
Richard wanted nothing more than to get into the city and find Kah-lan,
but he had to use everything he had at hand to help, or he might waste the
chance. He had to do this, first.
Most of these men had never really fought before. Owen and Anson's men
from the town of Witherton had been there at the first attack on the
sleeping houses and had taken part in the skirmishes there. The rest of the
men were from Northwick, where Richard had gone to see the Wise One. They
had been in on the clashes with the soldiers who weren't poisoned. There had
not been a great many enemy soldiers to fight, but the men had done what had
to be done. If anything, those minor but bloody encounters had served only
to make the men more determined, showing them that they could win freedom
themselves, that they were in control of their own destiny.
This, though, was different. This was going to be a battle on a scale
they had not experienced. Worse, it was in a city that had, for the most
part, willingly joined with the Order's cause. The populace was not likely
to offer much help.
Had he more time, Richard might have come up with a better plan that
would have chipped away at the enemy's numbers, first, but there was no
time. It had to be now.
Richard stood before the men, hoping to give them something to help
them carry the day. He had trouble thinking of anything but finding Kahlan.
In order to have the best chance to save her, he put her from his mind and
focused on the task at hand.
"I had hoped we wouldn't have to do it this way," he said. "I had hoped
we could do it in some manner like we've done before, with the fire, or the
poisoning, so that none of you would be hurt. We don't have that option.
Nicholas knows we're here. If we run, his men will come after us. Some of us
might escape . . . for a while."
"We are finished running," Anson said.
"That's right," Owen agreed. "We have learned that running and hiding
brings only greater suffering."
Richard nodded. "I agree. But you must understand that some of us are
probably going to die, today. Maybe most of us. Maybe all of us. If any of
you choose not to fight, then we must know now. Once we go in, we'll all be
depending on each other."
He clasped his hands behind his back as he paced slowly before them. It
was hard to make out their faces in the dim light. Richard knew, too, that
his time was running out. His sight would only get worse. His dizziness
would only get worse.
He knew he was never going to get better.
If he was to have a chance to get Kahlan away from the men of the
Order, it had to be at once, with these men or without them.
When none said that they wanted to quit, Richard went on. "We need to
get to their commanders for two reasons: to find out where the Mother
Confessor is being held, and to eliminate them so that they can't direct
their soldiers against us.
"You all have weapons, now, and in the limited time we've had, we've
done our best to teach you how to use them. There's one other thing you must
know. You will be afraid. So will I.
"To overcome this fear, you must use your anger."
"Anger?" one of the men asked. "How can we bring forth anger when we're
afraid?"
"These men have raped your wives, your sisters, your mothers,
daughters, aunts, cousins, and neighbors," Richard said as he paced. "Think
about that, when you look into the enemy's eyes as they come at you. They
have taken most of the women away. You all know why. They have tortured
children to make you give up. Think about the terror of your children as
they screamed in fear and pain, dying bloody and alone after being mutilated
by these men."
The heat of Richard's anger seeped into his words. "Think about that
when you see their confident grins as they come at you. These men have
tortured people you loved, people who never did anything against them. Think
about that as these men come at you with their bloodstained hands.
"These men have sent many of your people away to be used as slaves.
Many more of your people have been murdered by these men. Think about that,
when they come to murder you, too.
"This is not about a difference of opinion, or a disagreement. There
can be no debate or uncertainty about this among moral men. This is about
rape, torture, murder."
Richard turned and faced the men. "Think about that, when you face
these beasts." He tapped a fist to his chest as he ground his teeth. "And
when you face these men, men who have done all these things to you and your
loved ones, face them with hate in your hearts. Fight them with hate in your
hearts. Kill them with hate in your hearts. They deserve no better."
The woods were silent as the men considered his chilling words. Richard
knew that he had rage enough, and hate enough, to be eager to get at the men
of the Imperial Order.
He didn't know where Kahlan was, but he intended to find out and to
have her back. She had done as she had to in order to get the antidote to
save his life. He understood what she had done, and couldn't fault her for
it--that was the kind of woman she was. She loved him just as fiercely as he
loved her. She had done what she had to do.But he was not going to let her
down. She was depending on him to come for her.
The terrible irony was that it had all been for nothing. The antidote
she had made such a sacrifice to obtain was no antidote at all.
Richard looked out at all their faces, so intent on what he had to tell
them on the eve of such a momentous battle, and remembered, then, the words
on the statue at the entrance to this land, the words of the Wizard's Eighth
Rule: Taiga Vassternich.
"There is one last thing to tell you," he said. "The most important
thing of all."
Richard faced them as the leader of the D'Haran Empire, an empire
struggling to survive, to be free, and told them those two words in their
language.
"Deserve Victory."
It was just turning light as they charged into the city. Only one of
them had remained behind: Jennsen. Richard had forbidden her from joining
the fight. Besides being young and not nearly as strong as the men they
would come up against, she would only create a tempting target. Rape was a
sacred weapon of the wicked, and one this enemy used religiously. The men of
the Imperial Order would rally for such a prize. Cara was different; she was
a trained warrior and more lethal than any of them except Richard.
Jennsen hadn't been pleased to be left behind, but she had understood
Richard's reasons and hadn't wanted to give him anything else to worry
about. She and Betty had remained behind in the woods.
A man they had sent out to scout because he knew the area well emerged
from a side alley. As they reached him they all moved up against the wall,
trying to remain out of sight as best they could.
"I found them," the scout said, trying to catch his breath. He pointed
to the right of their route into the city.
"How many?" Richard asked.
"I think it must be their main force within the city, Lord Rahl. It's
where they sleep. They seem to still be there, as you expected, and not yet
up. The place they've taken over contains buildings for city offices and
administration. But I bring troubling news, as well. They are being
protected by the people of the city."
Richard ran his fingers back through his hair. He had to concentrate to
keep from coughing. He gripped the window frame of the building beside him
to help himself stand.
"What do you mean, they are being protected?"
"There are crowds of people from the city surrounding the place
occupied by the soldiers. The people are there to protect the soldiers--
from us. They are there to stop us from attacking."
Richard let out an angry breath. "All right." He turned back to the
worried, expectant faces of all the men. "Now, listen to me. We are joined
in a battle against evil. If anyone sides with evil, if they protect evil
men, then they are serving to perpetuate evil."
One of the men looked unsure. "Are you saying that if they try to stop
us, we might have to use force against them?"
"What is it these people seek to accomplish? What is their goal? They
want to prevent us from eliminating the Imperial Order. Because they hate
life, they despise freedom more than slavery."
With grim determination, Richard met the men's gazes. "I'm saying that
anyone who protects the enemy and seeks to keep them in power, for whatever
reason, has sided with them. It's no more complicated than that. If they try
to protect the enemy or hamper us from doing as we must--kill them."
"But they aren't armed," a man said.
Richard's anger flared. "They are armed--armed with evil ideas that
seek to enslave the world. If they succeed, you die.
"Saving the lives of innocent people and your loved ones--and having
far less loss of life in the end--is best served by crushing the enemy as
decisively and quickly as possible. Then there will be peace. If these
people try to prevent that, then they are, in effect, siding with those who
torture and murder--they help them to live another day to murder again. Such
people must not be treated any differently than what they in truth are:
servants of evil.
"If they try to stop you, kill them."
There was a moment of silence; then Anson put a fist to his heart.
"With hate in my heart... vengeance without mercy."
Looks of iron determination spread back through the men. They all put
fists to their hearts in salute and took up the pledge. "Vengeance without
mercy!"
Richard clapped Anson on the side of the shoulder. "Let's go."
They raced out from the long shadows of the buildings and poured around
the corner. The people off at the end of the street all turned when they
spotted Richard's force coming. More people--men and women from the
city--surged into the street in front of the compound of buildings the
soldiers had taken up as barracks and a command post. The people looked like
a scraggly lot.
"No war! No war! No war!" the people shouted as Richard led the men up
the street at a dead run.
"Out of the way!" Richard yelled as he closed the distance. This was no
time for subtlety or discussions; the success of their attack depended in
large part on speed. "Get out of the way! This is your only warning! Get out
of the way or die!"
"Stop the hate! Stop the hate!" the people chanted as they locked arms.
They had no idea how much hate was raging through Richard. He drew the
Sword of Truth. The wrath of its magic didn't come out with it, but he had
enough of his own. He slowed to a trot.
"Move!" Richard called as he bore down on the people.
A plump, curly-haired woman took a step out from the others. Her round
face was red with anger as she screamed. "Stop the hate! No war! Stop the
hate! No war!"
"Move or die!" Richard yelled as he picked up speed.
The red-faced woman shook her fleshy fist at Richard and his men,
leading an angry chant. "Murderers! Murderers! Murderers!"
On his way past her, gritting his teeth as he screamed with the fury of
the attack begun, Richard took a powerful swing, lopping off the woman's
head and upraised arm. Strings of blood and gore splashed across the faces
behind her even as some still chanted their empty words. The head and loose
arm tumbled through the crowd. A man made the mistake of reaching for
Richard's weapon, and took the full weight of a charging thrust.
Men behind Richard hit the line of evil's guardians with unrestrained
violence. People armed only with their hatred for moral clarity fell
bloodied, terribly injured, and dead. The line of people collapsed before
the merciless charge. Some of the people, screaming their contempt, used
their fists to attack Richard's men. They were met with swift and deadly
steel.
At the realization that their defense of the Imperial Order's brutality
would actually result in consequences to themselves, the crowd began
scattering in fright, screaming curses back at Richard and his men.
Richard's army did not pause as they tore through the ring of
protectors, now on the run, but continued on to the maze of buildings among
grassy open spaces dotted with trees. The soldiers who were outside began to
realize that this time they would have to protect themselves, that the
people of the city could no longer do it for them. These were men used to
slaughtering defenseless, docile victims. For more than a year of occupation
they had not had to fight.
Richard was the first on them, taking down men on his way into their
midst. Cara charged in at his right, Tom at his left, the deadly point of a
spear driving into soldiers only now pulling free their weapons. These were
men used to overwhelming their cowering opponents with sheer numbers, not
with fighting resolute opposition. They did so now, and for their lives.
Richard moved through them as if they were statues. They thrust a blade
at where he had been, while he cut where they were going and met them there
with razor-sharp steel. He came up behind others as they looked both ways,
losing track of him, only to have him reach around and draw his sword across
their throats. Others he beheaded before they realized he was about to
strike.
He wasted no effort with exaggerated movements and wild slashes. He cut
with deadly proficiency. He didn't try to best men to show them he was
better; he simply killed them. He didn't give them any chance to fight back;
he cut them down before they could.
Now that he was committed to the fight, he was committed to the dance
with death, which meant one thing: cut. It was his duty, his purpose, his
hunger to cut the enemy down quickly, resolutely, and utterly.
They were not prepared for this level of violence unleashed.
As his men fell on the soldiers, a great cry rose up. As men fell,
their screams filled the morning.
Seeing a man who looked like an officer, Richard wheeled around him and
laid his blade across the man's throat.
"Where is Nicholas and the Mother Confessor?"
The man answered by trying to grab Richard's arm. He wasn't nearly
quick enough. Richard pulled his sword across the man's throat, nearly
severing his head, as he spun to a man coming at him from behind. The man
skidded to a stop in an effort to avoid Richard's blade, only to be stabbed
through the heart.
The battle raged on, moving back between the buildings as they took
down those men who met the attack. Yet more men, layered in leather, mail,
hides, and weapon belts, came out of the barracks at hearing the clash. They
were fierce-looking men looking better suited to murder than any men Richard
had ever seen.
As they came onward, Richard seized anyone who looked like an officer.
None of them were able to give him an answer. None of them knew the
whereabouts of either Nicholas or Kahlan.
Richard had to fight off the dizziness as well as the soldiers. By
focusing on the dance with death and the precepts the sword had taught him
in the past, he was able to surmount the effects of the poison. He knew that
such efforts couldn't long replace the required strength of endurance, but
for the moment he was able to do as he had to.
It was somewhat surprising to see how well his men were doing. They
helped one another as they moved deeper into the enemy lines. By fighting in
that way, using one another's strengths, they were often able to survive
together where one alone would not have.
Some of his men had not survived; Richard saw several lying dead. But
the surprised enemy was being slaughtered. The Imperial Order soldiers were
not charged with righteous, resolute determination. Richard's men were. The
Order soldiers were little more than a gang of thugs allowed to run loose.
They now faced men calling them to ac-count. The men of the Order fought a
disorderly attempt to spare their own individual lives, without thought to a
coordinated defense, while Richard's men fought to a singular purpose of
exterminating the enemy's entire force.
Richard heard Cara calling urgently for him from the narrow space
between two buildings. At first, he thought she was in trouble, but when he
rounded the corner he saw then that she had a husky man on his knees. She
held his head up by a fistful of his greasy black hair. One ear displayed a
row of silver rings. Cara had her Agiel at his throat. Blood ran down his
chin.
"Tell him!" she yelled at the man when Richard ran up.
"I don't know where they are!"
In a fit of fury, Cara slammed the tip of her Agiel to the base of the
man's skull. He flinched, his arms shaking with the shattering shock of pain
that brought a gasp rather than a scream. His eyes rolled back in his head.
Holding him by his tangled hair, Cara bent him back over her knee to hold
him upright.
"Tell him," she growled.
"They left," he mumbled. "Nicholas left last night. They carried a
woman away with them, but I don't know who she was."
Richard went to a knee and grabbed the man's shirt. "What did she look
like?"
The man's eyes were still rolling. "Long hair."
"Where did they go?"
"Don't know. Gone. In a hurry."
"What did Nicholas tell you before he left?"
The man's eyes slowly came into focus. "Nicholas knew you were going to
attack at dawn. He told me the route you would take into the city."
Richard could hardly believe what he was hearing. "How could he
possibly know that?"
He hesitated. The sight of Cara's Agiel made him talk.
"I don't know. Before he left, Nicolas told me how many men you had,
told me when you would attack, and by which route. He told me to get people
from the city to shield us from your attack. We gathered our most fanatical
supporters and told them that you were coming to murder us, that you wanted
to make war."
"When did Nicholas leave? Where did he take this woman?"
Blood dripped from the man's chin. "I don't know. They just left in a
hurry last night. That's all I know."
"If you knew we were coming, why didn't you make a better defense?"
"Oh, but we did. Nicholas told me to take care of the city. I assured
him that such a small force as yours cannot possibly defeat us."
Something was terribly wrong. "Why not?"
For the first time, the man smiled. "Because you don't know how many
men we really have. Once I knew where your attack was coming, I was able to
call in all my forces." The man's smile widened. "Do you hear that horn in
the distance? Here they come." A belly laugh rolled up. "You are about to
die."
Richard gritted his teeth. "You first."
With a mighty thrust, he ran his sword through the officer's heart. The
man's eyes widened in shock. Richard gave the blade a twist as he withdrew
it to be sure the job was done.
"We'd better get the men out of here," Richard said as he took Cara's
arm and ran for the corner of the buildings.
"Looks like we're too late," she said when they came out from behind
cover and saw the legions of men pouring in all around them.
How did Nicholas know when and where they were going to attack? There
had been no one around--no races, not so much as a mouse had been there when
they had made their plans as they moved through the countryside. How could
he have known?
"Dear spirits," Cara said. "I didn't think they had this many men in
Bandakar."
The roar of the soldiers was deafening as they charged in. Richard was
already spent. Each deep breath he pulled was agonizingly painful. He knew
that there was no choice.
He had to find a way to get to Kahlan. He had to hold out at least that
long.
Richard whistled in a signal to gather his men. As Anson and Owen ran
up. Richard looked around and saw most of the others.
"We have to try to break out of here. There's too many of them. Slay
together. We're going to try to punch through. If we make it, scatter and
try to make it back to the forest."
With Cara at one side, Tom at the other, Richard charged at the head of
his men toward the enemy lines. Thousands of the Imperial Order soldiers
poured out from the city around them and into the open. It was a frightening
sight. There were so many that it almost seemed as if the ground itself were
moving.
Before Richard reached the soldiers, the morning suddenly lit with
blinding blasts of fire. Thunderous eruptions of flame tore through the
enemy lines, killing men by the hundreds. Sod, trees, and men were hurled
into the air. Men, their clothes, hair, and flesh burning, tumbled across
the ground.
Richard heard a howl coming from behind. It sounded somehow familiar.
He turned just in time to see a roiling ball of liquid yellow flame wailing
through the air toward them. It expanded as it came, tumbling with seething,
deadly intensity.
Wizard's fire.
The incandescent, white-hot inferno roared by just overhead. Once past
Richard and his men, it descended, crashing down among the enemy soldiers,
spilling a flood of liquid death out among them. Wizard's fire stuck to what
it touched, burning with ferocious intensity. A single droplet of it would
burn down through a man's leg to the bone. It was horrifyingly deadly. It
was said to be so excruciatingly painful that those who lived longed only
for death.
The question was, who was it coming from?
To the other side, men of the Order fell as something scythed through
their ranks. It almost looked as if a single blade cut them down by the
hundreds, ripping them apart with bloody ferocity. But who was doing it?
There was no time to stand around and wonder. Richard and his men had
to turn to meet the soldiers who made it through the devastating conjuring.
Now that their numbers had been so thinned, the Imperial Order soldiers were
unable to mount an effective attack. Their charge fell apart on the blades
of Richard's men.
As they fought, more deadly fire came in to catch those trying to run,
or those who massed to attack. In other places, Order soldiers fell without
Richard or his men touching them. They gasped in great agony, clutching
their chests, and fell dead.
Before long, the morning fell silent but for the groans of the wounded.
Richard's men rallied around him, unsure of what had happened, worried that
whatever had befallen these men might suddenly turn and befall them as well.
Richard realized that they didn't see the attack of wizard's fire and magic
in the same way as he did; to them it must seem a miracle of salvation.
Richard spotted two people beside one of the buildings off to the side
of the grounds. One was taller than the other. He squinted, trying to make
them out, but he just couldn't see who they were. With a hand on Tom's
shoulder for support, they headed toward the two figures.
"Richard, my boy," Nathan said when Richard made it over to him. "So
good to find you well."
Ann, a squat woman in a plain gray dress, smiled that knowing smile of
hers, so filled with joy, satisfaction, and at the same time a kind of
knowing tolerance.
"I doubt you two could imagine how glad I am to see you," Richard said,
still catching his breath, trying not to breathe too deeply. "But what are
you doing here? How in the world did you find me?"
Nathan leaned in with a sly smile. "Prophecy, my boy."
Nathan wore high boots and a ruffled white shirt with a vest and an
elegant green velvet cape attached at his right shoulder. The prophet cut
quite the figure.
Richard saw then that Nathan was wearing an exquisite sword in a
polished scabbard. It seemed to Richard rather odd for a wizard who could
command wizard's fire to carry a sword. It seemed even more odd to see the
man abruptly draw the weapon.
Ann suddenly gasped as someone sprang from behind the building and
grabbed her. It was one of the people from the city who had gathered to
protect the army--a tall, slender, pinched-faced woman with a formidable
scowl and a long knife.
"You are murderers!" she cried, her straight hair whipping side to
side. "You are filled with hate!"
The ground around Ann and the woman erupted, chunks of dirt and grass
flying up into the air. Ann, a sorceress, was apparently trying to fight off
her attacker. The woman was unaffected. Against a pristinely ungifted
person, magic wasn't working.
Nathan, not far to the side of Ann, stepped in and without ado ran the
tall woman through with his sword. The woman staggered back, his sword
through her chest, her face a picture of surprise. She dropped, sliding off
the red blade.
Ann, free of her attacker, glanced at the dead woman. She fixed Nathan
in a scowl. "Dashing indeed."
Nathan smiled at her private joke. "I told you, they aren't touched by
magic."
"Nathan," Richard said, "I still don't understand--"
"Come here, my dear," Nathan said, signaling off behind him.
Jennsen ran out from behind the building. She threw her arms around
Richard.
"I'm so glad you're all right," she said. "I hope you aren't angry with
me. Nathan showed up in the woods not long after you and the men left. I
remembered seeing him before--at the People's Palace in D'Hara. I knew he
was a Rahl, so I told him the trouble we were in. He and Ann wanted to help.
We came as fast as we could."
Jennsen looked expectantly up at Richard. He answered her worry with a
hug.
"You did the right thing," he told her. "You used your head for
something the orders didn't anticipate."
Now that the heat of battle had ended, Richard was dizzier than ever.
He had to lean on Tom for support.
Nathan put a shoulder under Richard's other arm. "I hear you're having
trouble with your gift. Maybe I can help."
"I don't have time. Nicholas the Slide has Kahlan. I have to find her
or--"
"Don't play a fool when you aren't," Nathan said. "It won't take long
to bring your gift into harmony. You need the help of another wizard to get
it under control--like the last time I helped you--or you won't be of any
use to anyone. Come on, let's get you inside one of these places where it's
quiet. Then I can take care of that much of your troubles."
Richard wanted nothing more than to find Kahlan, but he didn't know
where to look. He felt like falling into the man's arms and surrendering his
destiny to him, to his experience, to his vast knowledge. Richard knew
Nathan was right. He felt like crying with relief that help was finally at
hand. Who better to help him get his gift back under control than a wizard?
Richard had never even dared to hope to have this opportunity; he had
planned on trying to get to Nicci because she was the only one he could
think of who might know what to do. This was infinitely better than a
sorceress helping him.
A wizard was the only one really meant to help with this kind of
trouble with another wizard's gift.
"Just make it quick," he told Nathan.
Nathan smiled that Rahl smile of his. "Come on, then. We'll have your
gift back to right in no time at all."
"Thank you, Nathan," Richard mumbled as he let the big man help him
through a nearby doorway.
Richard sat cross-legged on the wood floor facing Nathan. The barren
room had no furniture. Nathan said none was needed, that the floor was fine
with him. Ann, not far away, sat on the floor as well. Richard was a little
surprised that Nathan was allowing her to observe, but didn't question it.
There was the possibility that he might want to have her help for some part
of it.
Everyone else waited outside. Cara wasn't happy about allowing Richard
out of her sight, but Richard calmed her concern by telling her that he
would feel more comfortable and able to concentrate on correcting the
problem with his gift if he knew she was outside keeping an eye on
everything for him.
The two windows had been shuttered, allowing in only dim light and
keeping out most of the noise. With his hands on his knees, the prophet
pushed his back straighter and, drawing a deep breath, seemed to pull an
aura of authority around himself. Nathan was the one who had first taught
Richard about his gift, telling him how war wizards, like Richard, weren't
like other wizards. Instead of tapping the core of power within themselves,
they directed their intent through their feelings.
It had been a difficult concept to grasp. Nathan had told Richard that
his power worked through anger.
"Lose yourself in my eyes," Nathan said in a quiet voice.
Richard knew he had to try to put his worry for Kahlan aside.
Trying to keep his breathing steady so as not to cough, he stared into
Nathan's hooded, deep, dark, azure eyes. Nathan's gaze drew him in. Richard
felt as if he were falling up into the clear blue sky. His breath came in
ragged pulls, and not of his own doing. He felt Nathan's commanding words
more than heard them.
"Call forth the anger, Richard. Call forth the rage. Call forth the
hate and fury."
Richard's head was swimming. He concentrated on calling his anger. He
thought about Nicholas having Kahlan and he had no trouble summoning rage.
He could feel another force within his own, as if he were drowning and
someone were trying to hold his head above water.
He drifted, alone, in a dark and still place. Time seemed to mean
nothing.
Time.
He had to get to Kahlan in time. He was her only chance.
Richard opened his eyes. "Nathan, I'm sorry, but..."
Nathan was drenched in sweat. Ann was sitting beside him, holding
Richard's left hand, Nathan his right. Richard wondered what had happened.
Richard looked from one face to the other. "What's wrong?"
They both looked grim. "We tried," Nathan whispered. "I'm sorry, but we
tried."
Richard frowned. They had only just begun.
"What do you mean? Why are you giving up so soon?"
Nathan cast a sidelong glance at Ann. "We've been at it for two hours.
Richard."
"Two hours?"
"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do, my boy." By the sound of his
voice, he meant it.
Richard ran his fingers back through his hair. "What are you talking
about? You're the one who told me the last time, when I had this problem,
joining with a wizard would set it straight. You said it was a simple matter
for a wizard to fix such a disharmony with the gift."
"That's the way it should be. But your gift is somehow tangled up into
a knot that's strangling you."
"But you're a prophet, a wizard. Ann, you're a sorceress. Together you
both probably know more about magic than anyone who has lived in thousands
of years."
"Richard, there has not been another born like you in the last three
thousand years. We don't know that much about how your particular gift
works." Ann paused to push stray strands of gray hair back into the bun at
the back of her head. "We tried, Richard. I swear to you, we both tried our
best. Your gift is beyond Nathan's help, even with my ability enhancing his
power. We tried everything we know, and even a few things we thought up.
None of it had any effect. We cannot help you."
"So, what must I do?"
Nathan's azure eyes turned away. "Your gift is killing you, Richard. I
don't know the cause, but I'm afraid that it has spiraled into a phase that
is out of control and fatal."
Ann's eyes were wet. "Richard ... I'm so sorry."
Richard looked from one distraught face to the other.
"I guess it doesn't really matter," Richard said.
Nathan frowned. "What do you mean it doesn't matter?"
Richard rose up, groping for the wall to keep his balance. "I've been
poisoned. The antidote is gone.... There is no cure. I'm afraid that I'm
running out of time. I guess the joke is on my gift--something else is going
to get me first."
Ann stood and gripped his upper arms. "Richard, we can't help you right
now, but you can at least rest while we try to figure out--"
"No." Richard waved off her concern. "No. I can't waste what little
time I have left. I have to get to Kahlan."
Ann cleared her throat. "Richard, at the Palace of the Prophets, Nathan
and I waited for your birth for a very long time. We worked to clear those
obstacles that Prophecy showed us lay in your path. The prophecies name you
as central to the course of the future of the world. In fact, they say you
are the only one with a chance; we need you to lead us in this battle.
"We don't know what is wrong with your gift, but we can work on
You must be here so that if we come up with a solution, we can set your
power right."
"I'll not live for you to cure me. Don't you see? The poison is killing
me. It has three states. I'm already entering the third state: blindness.
I'm going to die. I must use what time I have left to find Kahlan. You
aren't going to have me to lead you, but if I can get her away from
Nicholas, you will have her to lead the struggle in my place."
"You know where she is, then?" Nathan asked.
Richard realized that in the state of focused, concentrated thought, as
he was adrift in that quiet place while Nathan was trying to help him, it
had come to him where Nicholas most likely had taken Kahlan. He had to get
there while Nicholas was still there with her.
"Yes, I believe I do."
Richard pulled open the door. Cara, sitting right outside, shot to her
feet. Her expectant expression quickly withered when he shook his head,
signaling that it hadn't worked.
"We have to get going. Right away. I think I know where Nicholas took
Kahlan. We have to hurry."
"You know?" Jennsen asked, holding Betty close by the rope.
"Yes. We need to leave at once."
"Where is she, then?" Jennsen asked.
Richard gestured. "Owen, remember how you told us about a fortified
encampment the Imperial Order built when they first came to Ban-dakar and
they were worried about their safety?"
"Back near my town," Owen said.
Richard nodded. "That's right. I think Nicholas took Kahlan there. It's
a secure place they built to hold some of the women captive. There would be
plenty of soldiers to protect him and it's the kind of place built
specifically to be defensible, so it would be much more difficult to
approach than his place, here, in the city."
"Then how will we approach it?" Jennsen asked.
"We'll have to figure that out once we get there and see the place."
Nathan joined Richard at the door. "Ann and I will go with you. We
might be able to help rescue Kahlan from the Slide. While we travel the two
of us can work on a solution for untangling your gift."
Richard gripped Nathan's shoulder. "There are no horses in this land.
If you can run and keep up with us, you're welcome, but I can't afford to
slow for you. I don't have much time, and neither does Kahlan. Nicholas will
not likely hold her there long. After he pauses for rest and supplies and
then leaves this land, it will be even more difficult to find him. We have
no time to lose. We're going to have to travel as swiftly as possible."
Nathan's eyes turned down in disappointment.
Ann drew Richard into a brief hug. "We're far too old to keep up the
speed afoot that you and these young people can. When you get her away from
the Slide, come back and we'll do our best to help you. We'll work on the
problem while you're getting her out of his clutches. Come back then, and
we'll have a solution."
Richard knew that he would never live that long, but there was no point
in saying it. "All right. What can you tell me about a Slide?"
Nathan drew his thumb along his jaw as he considered the question.
"Slides are soul stealers. There is no defense against them. Even I would be
powerless to stop them."
Richard didn't suppose that needed any explanation. "Cara, Jennsen,
Tom, you can come with me."
"What about us?" Owen asked.
Anson stood close by, looking eager to be included, and nodded at
Owen's suggestion. There were others as well, who had stood vigil outside
the place where Nathan had tried to help Richard. They were all men who had
fought hard. If he was to get Kahlan back, he would likely need some men, at
least.
"Your help would be welcome. I think most of the men should stay here
with Nathan and Ann. The people here in Hawton need to have you men explain
everything to them--help them to understand all that you've learned. They
will need to make some changes to adjust to interacting with the world out
there now open to them."
As Richard started away, Nathan grabbed ahold of his sleeve. "Richard,
as far as I know, you have no defense against a soul stealer, but there is
one thing I recall from an old tome in the vaults in the Palace of the
Prophets."
"I'm listening."
"They somehow travel outside their body ... send their own spirit out."
Richard rubbed his fingertips across his brow as he thought about
Nathan's words. "That has to be how he was watching me, tracking me. I
believe he watched me through the eyes of huge birds that live here, called
black-tipped races. If what you're saying is right, then maybe he leaves his
body in order to do this." Richard looked up at Nathan. "How does this help
me?"
Nathan leaned closer, cocking his head to peer with one azure eye.
"That is when they are vulnerable--when they are out of their body."
Richard lifted his sword a few inches in the scabbard to be sure it was
clear. "Any idea how to catch him outside of his body?" He let the sword
drop back.
Nathan straightened. "Afraid not."
Richard nodded his thanks anyway and stepped down out of the doorway.
"Owen, how far is this fortified encampment?"
"Back close to where the path used to go out through the boundary."
That was why Richard hadn't seen it; they had come on the ancient route
used by Kaja-Rang. Ordinarily, it would be a journey of well over a week.
They didn't have nearly that long.
He took in all the faces watching him. "Nicholas has quite a head start
on us and he will be in a hurry to escape with his prize. If we travel
swiftly and don't stop long to rest, there's a good chance we can still
catch up with him by the time he reaches their encampment. We need to be on
our way at once."
"We're only waiting for you, Lord Rahl," Cara said.
So was Kahlan.
Each day of hard travel, Richard's condition worsened, but his fear for
Kahlan drove him relentlessly onward. Most of the time, hour after hour,
through sunlight, darkness, and occasional rain, they ran at a steady lope.
Richard used a staff he'd cut himself to help keep his balance. When he
thought he would be unable to go on, Richard deliberately picked up the pace
to remind himself that he could not give up. They stopped at night only long
enough to get a few hours' sleep.
The men had trouble keeping up with him. Cara and Jennsen didn't; they
were both used to strenuous exertion in the course of difficult journeys.
All of them, though, were so exhausted from the unrelenting pace that they
talked only when necessary. Richard drove himself doggedly, trying not to
think about his own hopeless condition. It didn't matter. He reminded
himself that with every step they ran, if it was fast enough, they were
gaining on Nicholas and just that much closer to Kahlan.
In moments of despair, Richard told himself that Kahlan had to be
alive, that Nicholas could have killed her long ago if that was his
intention. He wouldn't have run if she were dead. Kahlan would be much more
valuable to him alive.
In a way, he felt an odd kind of relief. He could push as hard as he
needed. He didn't have to worry about his health. There was no antidote to
the poison. Given the time, it would kill him. There was no solution to the
problem of his gift being out of control; that, too, would kill him. There
was nothing Richard could do about either. He was going to die.
The wooded hills were easy enough traveling. They were open, with
broad, green meadows sprinkled with wildflowers and a patchwork of
grassland. Wildlife was abundant. Were he not dying, in pain, and sick with
worry for Kahlan, Richard might have enjoyed the beauty of the land. Now it
was just an obstacle.
The sun in his eyes was slipping down behind the towering mountains.
Soon darkness would be upon them. A little earlier, Richard had used his bow
to take a buck when the opportunity presented itself. Tom had made quick
work of butchering it. The rest of them needed to eat, or they would not be