Страница:
able to keep up the pace. Richard supposed that they would have to stop for
a while to cook the meat and get some sleep.
Owen came up beside Richard as they trotted through a sea of grass
rolling beneath the breeze. Owen pointed ahead. "There, Lord Rahl. That
stream coming out of the hills is getting close to the Order's encampment.
Just a little farther, over that line of hills and toward the mountains." He
pointed to the right. "Off that way, not far, is my town of Witherton."
Richard changed his course a little to the left, heading for the woods
that started at the foot of a gentle rise. They made the trees just as the
orange disc of the sun slipped behind the snowcapped mountains.
"All right," Richard said, coming to a breathless halt as they entered
a small clearing. "Let's set up camp here. Jennsen, Tom, why don't you two
and the men stay here--get some meat cooking while I go with Owen and Cara
to scout this fortification and see if I can figure out how we're going to
get in."
When Richard started out, using his staff to help balance, Betty
started following him. Jennsen snatched Betty's rope.
"Oh, no you don't," Jennsen said. "You're staying here. Richard doesn't
need you tagging along to attract attention at the worst possible time."
"What should we make for you to eat, Lord Rahl?" Tom asked.
Richard couldn't stand the thought of eating meat. After all the bloody
fighting, he needed to balance his gift more than ever. His gift was killing
him, but if he did the wrong thing it might hasten the end and then he might
not last long enough to get Kahlan away from Nicholas.
"Whatever we have that isn't meat. You have time before we come back,
so you can cook some bannock, some rice, maybe some beans."
Tom agreed to take care of it and Richard followed after Owen. Cara,
looking more unhappy than he could ever remember seeing her, put a hand on
his shoulder.
"How are you holding up, Lord Rahl?"
He dared not tell her how much pain he was in from the gift, or that he
had started to cough up blood. "I'm all right for now."
By the time they dragged back into their camp, almost two hours later,
the meat on the spit was finished cooking and some of the men had already
eaten. They were just curling up in blankets to get some sleep.
Richard was beyond being tired. He was certain that they had been close
to Kahlan. It had been agonizing to have to return, to leave the place where
Nicholas held her, but he had to use his head. Wild, irrational action would
bring only failure. It would not get Kahlan out of there.
Richard was being driven by needs beyond food or sleep, but as he
watched Owen sit heavily near the fire, he knew that Owen and Cara were
exhausted and he imagined that they had to be hungry. Rather than sit, Cara
waited at his side. She would not allow him to get far from her watchful
protection. Nor would she voice any concern for herself or her needs.
He could never have imagined, back in the beginning, ever feeling this
close to a Mord-Sith.
Jennsen stood and rushed to meet him. "Richard--here, let me help you.
Come and sit."
Richard flopped down on the grass near the fire. Betty came over and
begged a place beside him. He let her lie down.
"Well?" Tom asked. "What do you think of the place?"
"I don't know. It has well-made timber walls with trenches dug before
them. There are snares and traps all around the place. It has a gate--a real
gate." Richard sighed as he rubbed his eyes. His sight was getting blurry.
It was getting more difficult all the time to see things. "I haven't quite
figured it out, yet."
It was hard to think with the smell of the cooking meat. It was making
him sick. Richard took a piece of bannock and the bowl of rice and beans
Jennsen handed him.
He couldn't eat while watching them eat the meat or, worse, smelling
it.
Richard stood. "I'm going to go for a walk." He didn't want to make
them feel bad about their dinner, or feel guilty for eating meat in front of
him. "I need some time alone to think it out."
Richard gestured for Cara to sit back down and stay where she was.
"Get some dinner," he told her. "I need you to stay strong."
Richard walked off through the trees, listening to the chirp of
crickets, watching the stars through the canopy of leaves. It was a relief
to be alone, not to have people asking him anything. It was tiring to have
people always depending on him.
Richard found a quiet place where an old oak had fallen. He sat and
leaned back against the trunk. He wished he never had to get up. If not for
Kahlan, he wouldn't.
Betty showed up. She stood before him, looking at him intently as if to
ask what they were going to do next. When Richard said nothing, Betty lay
down in front of him. It occurred to him that maybe Betty just wanted to
offer him some comfort.
Richard felt a tear run down his cheek. Everything was falling to
pieces. He couldn't hold those pieces together any longer. He could hardly
breathe past the lump in his throat.
He lay down and put an arm over Betty.
"What am I going to do?" He sniffled. He wiped the back of his hand
across his nose.
"Kahlan, what am I going to do?" he whispered in forlorn misery. "I
need you so much. What am I going to do?"
He was at the end of all hope.
He had thought, when he'd seen Nathan unexpectedly arrive, that help
was at hand. The bright ember of that last hope had been extinguished. Not
even a powerful wizard could help him.
Powerful wizard.
Kaja-Rang.
Richard froze.
The words sent to him by Kaja-Rang, those two words emblazoned across
the granite base of that statue, echoed through his mind.
Those two words were meant for Richard.
Taiga Vassternich.
Deserve Victory.
"Dear spirits ..." Richard whispered.
He understood.
Nicholas watched as Lord Rahl made his way back into the camp among his
men after his despairing whispered last prayer to the dear spirits. So sad.
So very sad hat the man was going to die. He would soon be with his dear
spirits ... in the Keeper's realm of the underworld.
Nicholas relished the game. The poor Lord Rahl was so lost and
confused. Nicholas wished the game could continue for a good long time, but
Lord Rahl had little time left. So sad.
But it would be much more fun after Lord Rahl died, after that last
detail was finally finished. Jagang thought this pathetic man was
resourceful. Don't underestimate him, Jagang had warned. Perhaps Jagang was
no match for the great Richard Rahl, but Nicholas the Slide was.
His spirit swelled with delight at the expectant thought of Lord Rani's
death. That was going to be something to watch. It would be a grand finale
of the play of life. Nicholas intended to see it all, to see every sad
moment of the last act. He imagined that Lord Rahl's friends would gather to
weep and wail as they stood by, helpless, watching him slip into the
welcoming embrace of death, eternity's shepherd, come to help him begin the
magnificent, never-ending spiritual journey away from the bitter interlude
that had been life.The final curtain was about to draw closed. Nicholas so
loved sad endings. He could hardly wait to watch it played out.
Hate to live, live to hate.
Nicholas wondered, too, as did Lord Rahl, what would get him first, the
poison or his gift. It seemed to tug first toward one, and then toward the
other. For a time the headaches inflicted by his gift nearly put him down;
then the poison would tighten its pain and make him gasp in agony. It was a
fascinating question, one that, as in any good play, would not be answered
until the very end. The tension was delicious.
Nicholas was rooting for the gift to win the fatal contest. Poison was
all well and good, but what a vastly more intriguing twist of fate it would
be to see a wizard of Lord Rahl's ability and potential, a wizard unlike any
to be born since an era long buried in the dunghill of mankind's history,
succumb to his birthright--to his own vast but vain power .. . another
victim of men reaching too high in life. That would be a fascinating and
fitting end.
Not long to wait.
Not long at all.
Nicholas watched, not wanting to miss a single delectable detail. With
the spirit of Richard Rahl's lovely bride beside him, as it were, Nicholas
felt almost a part of the family as he attended the approach of such a great
man's tragic end.
Nicholas felt it only fair that the Mother Confessor should get to see
it all played out, see the sad end to her beloved. As she watched along with
Nicholas, she was suffering seeing the agony of it as Richard Rahl walked
back into his camp.
Nicholas savored her distress. He had not yet begun to make her suffer.
He would soon have a very long time with her to explore her capacity for
suffering.
The people there in the woods around the campfire looked up, curious as
their master returned among them. They all waited, with Nicholas, watching,
with Nicholas, as their Lord Rahl stood over them. His figure wavered in the
fire, as it did in Nicholas's vision. It was almost as if he were already
but a spirit, about to drift away into the glorious oblivion of the dead.
"I've figured it out," Lord Rahl told them. "I know how to attack the
fortification."
Nicholas's ears pricked up. What was this?
"At first light we go in," Lord Rahl said. "Just as the sun breaks over
the mountains. Right then, on the east side, we'll come in over the wall.
The guards won't be able to see well because the sun will be in their eyes
when they look in that direction. Men don't look where it's troublesome to
look."
"I like it," one of the other men said.
"So we will sneak in, then, rather than try to attack," another said.
"Oh, no, there will be an attack," Lord Rahl said. "A big attack. An
attack that will set their heads to spinning."
What was this? What was this? Nicholas watched, watched, watched. This
was most curious. First Lord Rahl was going to sneak over the wall, and then
he would have his men attack? How was he going to set their heads to
spinning? Nicholas was fascinated.
He moved in a little closer, fearing to miss a precious word.
"The attack will involve all the rest of you men," Lord Rahl said. "You
will all come in toward the gate at first light. While you're attacking
through the gate and drawing their attention, I will be slipping over the
wall. While you will be there to distract them, in part, you will play an
even more vital role that they will never expect."
The game was afoot. Nicholas was in rapture as he listened, as he
watched. He so liked the game--especially when he knew all the rules, and
could bend them to his wishes. It was going to be a glorious day, tomorrow.
"But, Lord Rahl," the big man, Tom, asked, "how are we going to be able
to attack through the gate if it's as formidable as you say?"
Nicholas hadn't thought of that. How curious. A key part of Lord Rahl's
plan seemed to be faulty.
"That's the real trick," Lord Rahl said. "I've already figured it out
and you'll be amazed to hear how you're going to do it."
He had already figured it out? How curious. Nicholas wanted to hear
what possible solution could solve such a major hitch in Lord Rahl's plan.
Lord Rahl stretched and yawned. "Look," he said, "I'm exhausted. I
can't stand up anymore. I need to get some rest before I lay it all out for
you. It's complicated, so I'd better wait until just before we leave.
"Wake me up two hours before dawn, and I'll explain the whole thing,
then."
"Two hours before dawn," Tom repeated in confirmation of the orders.
Nicholas was furious. He wanted to hear it now. He wanted to know the
wonderful, fabulous, complicated plan.
Lord Rahl gestured to his delicious companion, the one named Cara, and
then to several of the young men. "Why don't you come with me and get some
sleep while the rest finish their meal."
As they started away, Lord Rahl turned back. "Jennsen, I want you to
keep Betty here, with you. Make sure she stays here. I need some sleep; I
don't need the smell of goat to wake me up."
"Am I going with you in the morning, Richard?" the one called Jennsen
asked.
"Yes. You play an important part in the plan." Lord Rahl yawned again.
"I'll explain after I've slept. Don't forget, Tom. Two hours before dawn."
Tom nodded. "I will wake you myself, Lord Rahl."
Nicholas would be there as well, to watch, to hear the final piece of
Lord Rahl's plan. Nicholas could hardly stand to wait that long. He would be
there early. He would hear every word of it.
And then, Nicholas would have a surprise waiting for Richard Rahl when
he and his men came for a visit.
Maybe neither the poison nor his gift would take Lord Rahl.
Maybe Nicholas would do it himself.
Her spirit a helpless prisoner of the Slide, Kahlan could do nothing
but watch along with him. She was unable to answer Richard's forlorn pleas,
unable to cry in sorrow for him, unable to do anything. She ached to be able
to hold him in her arms again, to comfort his pain, his heartache.
He was near the end. She knew that. It broke her heart to see his
precious life slipping away.
To see his tears.
To hear him cry her name in longing.
To hear him say how much he needed her.
She felt so cold and alone. She loathed the feeling of being adrift.
She desperately wanted to be back in her body. It waited somewhere back in a
lonely room in the fortified encampment. Nicholas's body waited there, too.
If only she could get back there.
Most of all, she wished there were some way she could warn Richard that
Nicholas knew his plan.
Nicholas lay in wait in the camp, sniffing, listening, watching, eager
for the game to continue. He had come early, fearing to miss anything. He
was sure it had to be two hours before dawn--time for the last act of the
play. It was time for the man, Tom, to wake Lord Rahl. It was time. Watch,
watch, watch. Where was he? Somewhere, somewhere. Look, look, look.
Men off through the trees stood guard over the camp. Where was Tom?
There he was. Nicholas saw that Tom was one of the men standing vigil as
others slept. Didn't want to be late. Lord Rahl's orders. He wasn't
sleeping, he was awake, so he should know it was time.
What was the man waiting for? His master had given him a command. Why
wasn't he doing as he had been told?
The woman, Jennsen, woke and rubbed her eyes. She looked up and took
appraisal of the stars and moon. It was time--she knew it was. She threw off
her blanket.
Nicholas followed behind as she rushed past the low glow of the
smoldering embers, rushed through the stand of young trees, rushed to the
big man leaning against a stump.
"Tom, isn't it time to wake Richard?"
Somewhere back in a distant room in the fortification, where his body
waited, Nicholas heard an insistent noise. He was absorbed in the task at
hand, in the game, so he ignored the sound.
Probably Najari. The man was eager to have a chance to get at the
Mother Confessor, a chance to enjoy her more feminine charms. Nicholas had
told Najari that he would have his chance, but he had to wait until Nicholas
returned. Nicholas didn't want the man tampering with her body while they
were gone. Najari sometimes didn't know his own strength. The Mother
Confessor was valuable property and Nicholas didn't want that property
damaged.
Najari had proven to be a loyal man and deserved a small reward, but
not until later. He would not disobey Nicholas's orders. He would be sorry
if he did.
Maybe it was just--
Wait, wait. What was this? Watch, watch, watch. The man stood and put a
hand reassuringly on the young woman's shoulder. How very touching.
"Yes, I guess it is about time. Let's go wake Lord Rahl."
Again the noise. Stealthy, sharp yet soft.
Most odd. But it would have to wait.
Through the woods. Hurry. Watch, watch, watch. Hurry. Couldn't they
move faster? Didn't they grasp the importance of the occasion? Hurry, hurry,
hurry.
"Betty," the Jennsen woman growled, "stop bumping my legs."
Again there was a skulking sound back somewhere with his body.
And then, another, more urgent sound.
This time, the sound ran a sharp shiver through Nicholas's very soul.
It was as deadly a sound as he had ever heard.
As the Sword of Truth cleared its scabbard, the distinctive ring of
steel filled the dimly lit room.
With the sword came ancient magic, unhindered, unrestrained, unleashed.
The sword's power instantly inundated Richard with its boundless fury,
a fury that answered only to him. The force of that power flooded into every
fiber of his being. It had been so long since he had truly felt it, truly
felt the full magnitude of it, that for an instant Richard paused in the
exaltation of the profound experience of simply holding such a singular
weapon.
His own righteous wrath had already slipped its bounds. Joined now with
the pure rage of the Sword of Truth, both spiraled through him like twin
storms rampaging unchecked.
Richard gloried that they could, and at being the ultimate master of
both.
The Seeker of Truth willed both storms ever onward even as the sword
began its fearsome journey, the merciless lightning of those thun-derheads
about to strike.
The tip of the blade whistled though the night air, still two hours
before dawn.
Hesitant and uncertain, Nicholas watched as the man, Tom, and the
Jennsen woman moved through the woods to awaken their dying Lord Rahl.
Somewhere back in a distant room in the fortification, where his body
waited, Nicholas heard a scream.
It was not a scream of fear, but a riotous cry of unbridled rage. It
sent a shiver through his soul.
With sudden alarm, knowing that it could not be ignored, Nicholas
slammed back into his body where it sat on the floor, waiting for him.
Unsteady from the abrupt return, Nicholas blinked as he opened his
eyes.
Lord Rahl himself stood before him, feet spread, both hands gripping
his sword. It was a picture of sheer muscular force focused by terrifying
resolve.
Nicholas's eyes went wide at seeing the gleaming blade arcing through
the still air.
Lord Rahl was in the midst of a scream of startling power and rage.
Every bit of his might was committed to the swing of his sword.
Nicholas had a sudden and completely unexpected realization: he didn't
want to die. He very much wanted to live. As much as he hated life, he
realized, now, that he wanted to hold on to it.
He had to act.
He summoned his power, rallied his will. He had to stop this avenging
soul before him. He reached out with his power to seize this other's spirit.
He felt the horrifying shock of a staggering blow against the side of his
neck.
Richard was still screaming as his sword, with every ounce of power and
speed he could put behind it, swept around, just clearing the top of
Nicholas's left shoulder.
Richard saw every detail as the blade tore through flesh and bone,
turning muscle, tendon, arteries, and windpipe inside out, following with
precision the path to which the Seeker had justly committed it. Richard had
dedicated everything to the swift journey of his sword. Now, he watched as
that journey reached its destination, as the blade cleared the neck of
Nicholas the Slide, as the man's head, its mouth still opened in the
beginning of shock not fully comprehended, his beady eyes still trying to
grasp the totality of what they were seeing, lifted into the air, beginning
to turn ever so slowly as the sword below it passed along its deadly arc, as
curved ropes of the man's blood began tracing a long wet line across the
wall behind him.
Richard's scream ended as the sword's swing reached its limit. The
world came crashing back around him.
The head hit the floor with a loud, bone-cracking thunk.
It was ended.
Richard recalled the rage. He had to get it under control immediately.
He had something yet more important to accomplish.
In one fluid motion, Richard slid the bloody blade home into its
scabbard as he turned to the second body leaned up against the wall to the
right.
The sight of her almost overcame him. To see her there, alive,
breathing, seemingly unhurt, brought a wild rush of joy. His worst fears,
fears he would not even allow into his conscious mind, evaporated in an
instant.
But then he realized that she was not all right. She could not have
slept through such an attack.
Richard fell to his knees and took her up in his arms. She felt so
light, so limp. Her face was ashen and beaded with sweat. Her eyelids were
half closed, her eyes rolled back in her head.
Richard sank back within himself, seeking strength to bring back the
one he loved more than life itself. He opened his soul to her. All he
wanted, all he needed, as he held her to him, was for her to live, to be
whole.
Instinctively, in a way he did not fully understand, he let his power
well up from a place deep inside his mind. He released himself into the
torrent as it rushed onward. He let his love of her, his need of her, flood
through their connection as he hugged her to his breast.
"Come home to where you belong," he whispered to her.
He let the core of his power course through her, intending it to be
like a beacon to light her way. It felt as if he were searching through the
dark, using the light of ability from deep within to help him. Even though
he couldn't define the precise mechanism, he could consciously focus his
purpose, his need, and what he wanted to accomplish.
"Come home to me, Kahlan. I'm here."
Kahlan gasped. Even though she hung limp, he felt the intensity of the
life in his arms. She gasped again, as if she had nearly drowned and needed
air.
At last, she stirred in his arms, her limbs moving,' groping. She
opened her eyes, blinking, and looked up. Astonished, she sank back into his
arms.
"Richard ... I heard you. I was so alone. Dear spirits, I was so alone.
I didn't know what to do.... I heard Nicholas scream. I was lost and alone.
I didn't know how to get back. And then I felt you."
She embraced him tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.
"You led me back through the darkness."
Richard smiled down at her. "I'm a guide, remember?"
She puzzled at him. "How could you do that?" Her beautiful green eyes
opened expectantly. "Richard, your gift..."
"I figured out the problem with my gift. Kaja-Rang had given me the
solution. I'd had the solution long before that, but I never realized it. My
gift is fine, now, and the sword's power works again. I was being so blind
that I will be ashamed to tell it all to you."
Richard's breath caught, and he coughed, then, unable to hold it back
any longer. Nor could he hold back grimacing at the pain.
Kahlan gripped his arms. "The antidote--what happened to the antidote!
I sent it back with Owen. Didn't you get it?"
Richard shook his head as he coughed again, the pain feeling as though
it ripped him deep inside. He finally regained his breath. "Well, now, that
is a problem. It wasn't the antidote. It was just water with a bit of
cinnamon in it."
Kahlan's face went ashen. "But. .." She looked over at Nicholas's body,
at his head lying upended at the end of a bloody trail across the floor.
"Richard, if Nicholas is dead, how are we going to get the antidote?"
"There isn't any antidote. Nicholas wanted me dead. He would have
destroyed the antidote long ago. He gave you a fake to be able to capture
you."
Her face had gone from joy to horror.
"But, without the antidote ..."
There's no time to worry about the poison just now," Richard told her
as he helped her to her feet.
No time? She watched his step falter as he made his way across the
room. He groped for the window ledge.
At the small window opening in the outer wall of the fortification he
signaled with the high, clear whistle of the common wood pewee-- the whistle
Cara thought was that of the mythical short-tailed pine hawk.
"I used a ladder pole," he explained. "Cara is on her way."
Kahlan tried to make her way over to him, but her body felt alarmingly
unfamiliar to her. She staggered a couple of steps, her legs moving
woodenly. She had the urge to get down on her hands and feet to walk. She
felt like a stranger inside her own skin. It seemed foreign to have to
breathe on her own, to have to look through her own eyes, to have to listen
through her own ears. It was a strange, haunting sensation to feel her
clothes against her skin.
Richard held out his hand to help steady her. Kahlan thought that as
wobbly as she was, she might still be more steady on her feet than Richard.
"We're going to have to fight our way out," he said, "but we'll have
some help. I'll get you the first sword I can."
" Richard blew out the flame of the single candle before a tin
reflector on a small shelf.
"Richard, I'm not yet used to being . . . back inside myself. I don't
think I'm ready to go out there. I can hardly walk."
"We don't have a lot of choice. We have to get out. Learn as you go.
I'll help you."
"You can hardly walk yourself."
Cara, at the top of a pole ladder Richard had cut, leaned forward and
wriggled in through the small window.
Halfway in, Cara gaped in delighted wonder. "Mother Confessor-- Lord
Rahl did it."
"You don't need to sound so surprised," Richard griped as he helped the
Mord-Sith the rest of the way in.
Cara only briefly took note of the dead man sprawled across the floor
before Kahlan threw her arms around the woman.
"You can't imagine how glad I am to see you," Cara said.
"Well, you can't imagine how glad I am to see you through my own eyes."
"If only the trade you made had worked," Cara added in a whisper.
"We'll find another way," Kahlan assured her.
Richard slowly drew the door open a crack and peeked out. He shut the
door and turned back.
"It's clear. Doors to the left and around the balcony are the rooms
with the women in them. Stairs to the right are the closest that lead down.
Some of the rooms at the bottom are for officers; others are barracks for
soldiers."
Cara nodded. "I'm ready."
Kahlan looked from one to the other. "Ready for what?"
Richard took her by the elbow. "I need you to help me see."
"Help you see? Is it progressing that fast?"
"Just listen. We're going to move along the balcony to the left and
open the doors. Do your best to keep the women calm. We're going to break
them out of here."
Kahlan was a bit confused by everything--it was completely different
from the plans she had been hearing along with Nicholas. She knew she would
just have to follow Richard and Cara's lead.
Outside, on the simple wooden balcony, there were no lamps or torches.
The moon was down behind the black sprawl of the mountains. Kahlan's sight
when Nicholas had controlled her had been like looking through a greasy pane
of wavy glass. The sparkling vault of stars overhead had never looked so
beautiful. In that starlight, Kahlan could see simple buildings lined up
around the outer wall of the fortification.
Richard and Cara moved along the balcony, opening doors. At each one,
Cara quickly ducked inside. Some of the women came out in their nightshirts;
some Kahlan could hear inside rushing to get dressed. In some of the rooms,
babies cried.
While Cara was in one of the rooms, Richard opened another door. He
leaned close to Kahlan and whispered, "Go in and tell the women inside that
we've come to help them escape. Tell them that their men have come to get
them out. But they must be as quiet as possible, or we'll be caught."
Kahlan rushed in, as best she could on unsteady legs, and woke the
young woman in the bed to the right. She sat up, terrified, but silent.
Kahlan reached around and shook the woman in the other bed.
"We've come to help you escape. You mustn't make any noise. Your men
are going to help. You have a chance to be free."
"Free?" the first woman asked.
"Yes. It's up to you, but I strongly advise you to take the chance, and
to hurry."
The women flew out of their beds and grabbed for clothes.
Richard, Kahlan, and Cara moved farther down the balcony, asking the
women who had already come out to help rouse the others. In a matter of a
few minutes, hundreds of women were huddled together out on the balcony.
There was no problem keeping them quiet; they were all too familiar with the
consequences of causing trouble. They didn't want to do anything to get
themselves caught trying to escape. Before long, they had made it all the
way around the fortification balcony.
Many of the women had very young babies--ones too young to be taken
away. The babies were mostly sound asleep in their mothers' arms, but some
of them started to cry. The mothers desperately tried to rock and cuddle
them into silence. Kahlan hoped that it was a common enough sound that it
wouldn't draw the attention of the soldiers.
"Wait here," Richard whispered to Kahlan. "Keep everyone up here until
we get the gate open."
With Cara right behind him, Richard slipped carefully down the steps
and started across the open yard. When one of the babies suddenly began
bawling, soldiers came out of a building to see what was going on. They
spotted Richard and Kahlan. The soldiers yelled, sounding an alarm.
Kahlan heard the distinctive ring of steel as Richard drew his sword.
Men rushed out of some of the doors, heading Richard and Cara off. Being
used to dealing with these people, the men rushing toward Richard apparently
weren't greatly concerned about violence. They were wrong, and fell as soon
as they got close enough for Richard to strike. Some Richard took down as he
ran; others Cara caught as they tried to come in from the side.
The screams of some of the men as they fell woke the whole encampment.
Men rushed out of barracks below, pulling on their trousers and shirts,
dragging weapon belts behind.
In the faint starlight, Kahlan spotted Richard by the dropgate. He took
a mighty swing. Sparks showered across the wall as the sword shattered one
of the heavy chains holding up the gate. Richard ran to the other side, to
cut the other chain. Two men caught up to him there. In one fluid movement,
Richard cut them both down.
As Cara dropped other men who were rushing in at Richard, he swung the
sword again. White-hot fragments of steel filled the air along with the
ringing sound of metal shattering. The gate groaned and slowly started to
fall outward. Richard heaved his weight against it and it picked up speed.
With a resounding crash, it came down, raising clouds of dust.
A great cry rose up as men outside, wielding swords, axes, and battle
maces, charged in across the broken bridge and into the fortification. The
soldiers rushed to meet the invasion and there was a great clash of weapons
and men.
Kahlan saw, then, that soldiers were racing up the stairway on the
opposite side of the balcony.
"Come on!" Kahlan yelled to the women. "We have to get out now!"
Holding the rail to keep her balance, Kahlan raced down the steps, all
the women pouring down behind her, a number carrying screaming babies.
Richard ran to meet her at the bottom. He tossed her a short sword with a
leather-wound grip. Kahlan caught it by the handle just in time to turn and
slash a soldier running up from beneath the balcony.
Owen made his way through the fighting and over to the women. "Come
on!" he called to them. "Get to the gate! Run!"
The women, galvanized by his command, started running across the
compound. As they reached the fighting, some of the women, instead of
running out the gate, took the opportunity to leap on the backs of soldiers
fighting Owen and his men. The women bit the men on the backs, beat at their
heads, tore at their eyes. The soldiers were not restrained in dealing with
the women, and several were brutally killed. It didn't stop others from
joining the fight.
If they would only run for the gate, they could escape, but instead,
they were attacking the soldiers with their bare hands. They had been held
in bondage to these men for a very long time. Kahlan could only imagine what
they had gone through and couldn't say she blamed them. She was still having
difficulty moving, making her body do what she wanted it to do, or she would
have joined them.
Kahlan turned at a sound only to see a man charging in at her. She
recognized his flattened nose. Najari--Nicholas's right-hand man. He was one
of the men who had carried her to the fortification. He wore a wicked grin
as he came for her.
She could have used her power on him, but she feared to trust it right
then. She instead brought the short sword out from behind her back and
slammed it through Najari's gut. He stood stiffly right in front of her, his
eyes wide. She could smell the stink of his breath. Kahlan wrenched the
handle of the sword to the side. Mouth opened wide, he panted, fearing to
draw a deep breath, fearing to move and cause any more damage. Kahlan
gritted her teeth and swept the sword's handle around in an arc, ripping his
insides apart.
She stared into his startled eyes as he slid off her sword. He grunted
in pain as he dropped to his knees, holding his wound together as best he
could. He never got what Kahlan knew he intended, what Nicholas had promised
him. He fell forward onto his face, spilling his insides across the ground
at her feet.
Kahlan turned to the attack. Richard was engaged in slashing his way
through men trying to surround him as he fought to keep the gate clear.
Others, Richard's men, came at the enemy from behind, cutting into them the
way Richard had taught them.
Kahlan saw Owen not far away. He was standing in the open, among the
fallen and the fighting, staring across the raging battle to a man just
outside one of the doors under the balcony.
The man had a thick black beard, a shaved head, and a ring through one
ear and one nostril. His arms were as big as tree limbs. His shoulders were
twice as wide as Owen's.
"Luchan." Owen said to himself.
Owen started across the open area of the fortification, past men
engaged in pitched battle, past those crying out and those falling to
blades, past swords and axes sweeping through the air, as if he didn't even
see them. His eyes were locked on the man watching him come.
The face of a young woman appeared in the dark doorway behind Luchan He
turned and growled at her to go back inside, that he was going to take care
of the little man from her village.
When Luchan turned back around, Owen was standing before him.
Luchan laughed and put his fists on his hips. "Why don't you scurry
back into your hole?"
Owen said nothing, gave no warning, made no demands. He simply lit into
Luchan with a vengeance -- just as Richard had counseled him to do --
slamming a knife into the big man's chest over and over before Luchan had a
chance to react. He had underestimated Owen. It had cost him his life.
The woman rushed out of the doorway and came to a halt over the body of
her former master. She stared down at him, at his one arm splayed out to the
side, at the other lying across his bloody chest, at the unseeing eyes. She
looked up at Owen.
Kahlan assumed that this was Marilee, and feared that she was going to
reject Owen for harming another, that she would castigate him for what be
had done.
Instead, she rushed to Owen and threw her arms around him.
The woman went to her knees beside the body and took the bloody knife
from Owen's hand. She turned to the fallen Luchan and stabbed him half a
dozen times with such force that it drove the knife in up to the hilt with
every thrust. Watching her tearful fury, Kahlan didn't have to wonder how
she had been treated by the man.
Her anger spent, she stood again and tearfully hugged Owen.
Kahlan needed to get to Richard. She was relieved that her ability to
move as she intended was returning. She started making her way around the
edge of the battle, staying close to the walls, past men who saw her and
thought she would be an easy mark. They didn't know that from a young age
she had been taught to use a sword by her father, King Wyborn, and that
Richard had later honed her skill to deadly proficiency, teaching her how to
use her lighter weight to give her lethal speed. It was the last mistake the
men made.
Off across the open area, a mob of soldiers, now fully awake and fully
prepared to engage in battle, swarmed out of the barracks. They all charged
for Richard. Kahlan knew right away that there were too many. Richard's men
couldn't stop the flood of soldiers as they streamed across the encampment.
All of them crashed in toward Richard.
Kahlan heard a deafening crack like lightning as the walls of the
fortification lit with a flash. She had to turn away and shield her eyes.
Night turned to day, and at the same time, a darkness darker than any night
was loosed.
A blazing white-hot bolt of Additive Magic twisted and coiled around
and through a crackling black void of Subtractive Magic, creating a violent
rope of twin lightning joined to a terrible purpose.
It seemed as if the noonday sun crashed down among them. The air itself
was drawn into the fierce heat and light. Try as she might, Kahlan couldn't
draw a breath against the force of it.
Richard's fury gathered it all into a single point. In an explosive
instant, the thunderous ignition of light unleashed a devastating blast of
staggering destruction radiating outward across the entire encampment,
annihilating the Imperial Order soldiers.
The night fell dark and silent.
Men and women stood stunned among the sea of blood and viscera, gazing
around at the unrecognizable remains of the enemy soldiers.
The battle was over. The people of Bandakar had carried the day. At
last, the women fell to wailing and crying, ecstatic to be free. They knew
many of the men who had come to free them, and clung to them in gratitude,
overwhelmed with joy to be reunited. They hugged friends, relatives, and
strangers alike. The men, too, wept with relief and happiness.
Kahlan rushed through the maze of rejoicing people crowded into the
open area of the fortification. Men cheered her, thrilled that she, too, had
been liberated. Many of the men wanted to talk to her, but she kept running
to get to Richard.
He stood to the side, leaning against the wall, Cara helping to hold
him up. He still gripped his blood-slicked sword in his fist, the blade's
tip resting on the ground.
Owen, too, made his way over to Richard.
"Mother Confessor! I'm so relieved and thankful to have you back!" He
looked over at a smiling Richard. "Lord Rahl, I would like you to meet
Marilee."
This woman, who only a short time ago had savagely stabbed the corpse
of her captor now seemed too shy to speak. She dipped her head in greeting.
Richard straightened and smiled that smile Kahlan so loved to see, a
smile filled with the sheer pleasure of life. "I'm very happy to meet you,
Marilee. Owen has told us all about you, and about how much you mean to him.
Through all that happened, you were always first in his mind and heart. His
love for you moved him to act to change his entire empire for the better."
She seemed to be overwhelmed by it all, and by his words.
"Lord Rahl came to us and did something more important than saving us
all," Owen told Marilee. "Lord Rahl gave me the courage to come and fight
for you, to fight to save you--for all of us to fight for our own lives and
the lives of those we love."
Beaming, Marilee leaned in and kissed Richard on the cheek. "Thank you,
Lord Rahl. I never knew my Owen could do such things."
"Believe me," Cara said, "we had our doubts about him, too." She
clapped Owen on the back of the shoulder. "But he did well."
"I, too, have come to understand the value of what he has done,"
Marilee said to Richard, "of the things you seem to have taught our people."
Richard smiled at the two of them, but then he could no longer hold
back the coughing that so hurt him. The mood of joyous liberation suddenly
changed. People rushed in around them, helping to hold him up. Kahlan saw
blood running down his chin.
"Richard," she cried. "No ..."
They eased him to the ground. He clutched at Kahlan's sleeve, wanting
to have her close. Kahlan saw tears running down Cara's cheek.
It seemed that he had spent all the strength he had left. He was
slipping into the fatal grasp of the poison, and there was nothing they
could do for him.
"Owen," Richard said, panting to catch his breath when the spell of
coughing stopped. "How far to your town?" His voice was getting hoarse.
"Not far--only hours, if we hurry."
"The man who made the poison and the antidote ... he lived there?"
"Yes. His place is still there."
"Take me there."
Owen looked puzzled, but he nodded eagerly. "Of course."
"Hurry," Richard added, trying to get up. He couldn't.
Tom appeared in the crowd. Jennsen was there, too.
"Get some poles!" Tom commanded. "And some canvas, or blankets. We'll
make a litter. Four men at a time can carry him. We can run and get him
there quickly."
Men rushed to the buildings, searching for what they would need to make
a litter.
Kahlan hurriedly pulled the tin off the shelf and opened the lid. The
tin contained a yellowish powder. It was the right color. She leaned down
and showed it to Richard as he lay in the litter. He reached in and took a
pinch.
He smelled it. He put his tongue to it and then nodded.
"Just a little," he whispered, lifting it out to her. Kahlan held out
her palm while he dribbled some of the crushed powder in her hand. He threw
the rest on the floor, too weak to bother returning it to the tin. Kahlan
added the small portion on her palm to one of the pots of boiling water.
Cloth bags of herbs steeped in other pots of hot water. Alkaloids from
dried mushrooms were soaking in oil. Richard had other people grating stalks
of plants.
"Lobelia," Richard said. His eyes were closed.
Owen bent down. "Lobelia?"
Richard nodded. "It will be a dried herb."
Owen turned to the shelves and started looking. There were hundreds of
little square cubbyholes in the wall of the place where the man who had made
Richard's poison, and the antidote, used to work. It was a small, simple,
single-room building with little light. It was not nearly as well equipped
as the herbalist places Kahlan had seen before, but the man had an extensive
collection of things. More than that, he had once made the antidote,
presumably from what was there.
"Here!" Owen said, holding a bag down for Richard to see. "It says
lobelia on the tag."
"Grind a little pile half the size of your thumbnail, sift out the
fibers and discard them, then add what's left to the bowl with the darker
oil."
Richard knew about herbs, but he didn't know anywhere near enough about
herbs to concoct the cure for the poison he had been given.
His gift seemed to be guiding him.
Richard was in a near trance, or nearly unconscious; Kahlan wasn't
exactly sure which. He was having difficulty breathing. She didn't know what
else to do to help him. If they didn't do something, he was going to die,
and soon. As long as he lay quietly on the litter he was resting more
comfortably, but that was not going to make him recover.
It had been a short run to Witherton, but it had taken too long as far
as Kahlan was concerned.
"Yarrow," Richard said.
Kahlan leaned down. "What preparation?"
"Oil," Richard said.
Kahlan fumbled through the shelves of small bottles. She found one
labeled YARROW OIL. She squatted down and held it before Richard.
"How much?"
She lifted one of his hands and put the bottle in it, closing his
fingers around it so he could tell its size. "How much?"
"Is it full?"
Kahlan hurriedly wiggled out the whittled wooden stopper. "Yes."
"Half," Richard said. "In with any of the other oils."
"I found the feverfew," Jennsen said as she hopped down from the stool.
a while to cook the meat and get some sleep.
Owen came up beside Richard as they trotted through a sea of grass
rolling beneath the breeze. Owen pointed ahead. "There, Lord Rahl. That
stream coming out of the hills is getting close to the Order's encampment.
Just a little farther, over that line of hills and toward the mountains." He
pointed to the right. "Off that way, not far, is my town of Witherton."
Richard changed his course a little to the left, heading for the woods
that started at the foot of a gentle rise. They made the trees just as the
orange disc of the sun slipped behind the snowcapped mountains.
"All right," Richard said, coming to a breathless halt as they entered
a small clearing. "Let's set up camp here. Jennsen, Tom, why don't you two
and the men stay here--get some meat cooking while I go with Owen and Cara
to scout this fortification and see if I can figure out how we're going to
get in."
When Richard started out, using his staff to help balance, Betty
started following him. Jennsen snatched Betty's rope.
"Oh, no you don't," Jennsen said. "You're staying here. Richard doesn't
need you tagging along to attract attention at the worst possible time."
"What should we make for you to eat, Lord Rahl?" Tom asked.
Richard couldn't stand the thought of eating meat. After all the bloody
fighting, he needed to balance his gift more than ever. His gift was killing
him, but if he did the wrong thing it might hasten the end and then he might
not last long enough to get Kahlan away from Nicholas.
"Whatever we have that isn't meat. You have time before we come back,
so you can cook some bannock, some rice, maybe some beans."
Tom agreed to take care of it and Richard followed after Owen. Cara,
looking more unhappy than he could ever remember seeing her, put a hand on
his shoulder.
"How are you holding up, Lord Rahl?"
He dared not tell her how much pain he was in from the gift, or that he
had started to cough up blood. "I'm all right for now."
By the time they dragged back into their camp, almost two hours later,
the meat on the spit was finished cooking and some of the men had already
eaten. They were just curling up in blankets to get some sleep.
Richard was beyond being tired. He was certain that they had been close
to Kahlan. It had been agonizing to have to return, to leave the place where
Nicholas held her, but he had to use his head. Wild, irrational action would
bring only failure. It would not get Kahlan out of there.
Richard was being driven by needs beyond food or sleep, but as he
watched Owen sit heavily near the fire, he knew that Owen and Cara were
exhausted and he imagined that they had to be hungry. Rather than sit, Cara
waited at his side. She would not allow him to get far from her watchful
protection. Nor would she voice any concern for herself or her needs.
He could never have imagined, back in the beginning, ever feeling this
close to a Mord-Sith.
Jennsen stood and rushed to meet him. "Richard--here, let me help you.
Come and sit."
Richard flopped down on the grass near the fire. Betty came over and
begged a place beside him. He let her lie down.
"Well?" Tom asked. "What do you think of the place?"
"I don't know. It has well-made timber walls with trenches dug before
them. There are snares and traps all around the place. It has a gate--a real
gate." Richard sighed as he rubbed his eyes. His sight was getting blurry.
It was getting more difficult all the time to see things. "I haven't quite
figured it out, yet."
It was hard to think with the smell of the cooking meat. It was making
him sick. Richard took a piece of bannock and the bowl of rice and beans
Jennsen handed him.
He couldn't eat while watching them eat the meat or, worse, smelling
it.
Richard stood. "I'm going to go for a walk." He didn't want to make
them feel bad about their dinner, or feel guilty for eating meat in front of
him. "I need some time alone to think it out."
Richard gestured for Cara to sit back down and stay where she was.
"Get some dinner," he told her. "I need you to stay strong."
Richard walked off through the trees, listening to the chirp of
crickets, watching the stars through the canopy of leaves. It was a relief
to be alone, not to have people asking him anything. It was tiring to have
people always depending on him.
Richard found a quiet place where an old oak had fallen. He sat and
leaned back against the trunk. He wished he never had to get up. If not for
Kahlan, he wouldn't.
Betty showed up. She stood before him, looking at him intently as if to
ask what they were going to do next. When Richard said nothing, Betty lay
down in front of him. It occurred to him that maybe Betty just wanted to
offer him some comfort.
Richard felt a tear run down his cheek. Everything was falling to
pieces. He couldn't hold those pieces together any longer. He could hardly
breathe past the lump in his throat.
He lay down and put an arm over Betty.
"What am I going to do?" He sniffled. He wiped the back of his hand
across his nose.
"Kahlan, what am I going to do?" he whispered in forlorn misery. "I
need you so much. What am I going to do?"
He was at the end of all hope.
He had thought, when he'd seen Nathan unexpectedly arrive, that help
was at hand. The bright ember of that last hope had been extinguished. Not
even a powerful wizard could help him.
Powerful wizard.
Kaja-Rang.
Richard froze.
The words sent to him by Kaja-Rang, those two words emblazoned across
the granite base of that statue, echoed through his mind.
Those two words were meant for Richard.
Taiga Vassternich.
Deserve Victory.
"Dear spirits ..." Richard whispered.
He understood.
Nicholas watched as Lord Rahl made his way back into the camp among his
men after his despairing whispered last prayer to the dear spirits. So sad.
So very sad hat the man was going to die. He would soon be with his dear
spirits ... in the Keeper's realm of the underworld.
Nicholas relished the game. The poor Lord Rahl was so lost and
confused. Nicholas wished the game could continue for a good long time, but
Lord Rahl had little time left. So sad.
But it would be much more fun after Lord Rahl died, after that last
detail was finally finished. Jagang thought this pathetic man was
resourceful. Don't underestimate him, Jagang had warned. Perhaps Jagang was
no match for the great Richard Rahl, but Nicholas the Slide was.
His spirit swelled with delight at the expectant thought of Lord Rani's
death. That was going to be something to watch. It would be a grand finale
of the play of life. Nicholas intended to see it all, to see every sad
moment of the last act. He imagined that Lord Rahl's friends would gather to
weep and wail as they stood by, helpless, watching him slip into the
welcoming embrace of death, eternity's shepherd, come to help him begin the
magnificent, never-ending spiritual journey away from the bitter interlude
that had been life.The final curtain was about to draw closed. Nicholas so
loved sad endings. He could hardly wait to watch it played out.
Hate to live, live to hate.
Nicholas wondered, too, as did Lord Rahl, what would get him first, the
poison or his gift. It seemed to tug first toward one, and then toward the
other. For a time the headaches inflicted by his gift nearly put him down;
then the poison would tighten its pain and make him gasp in agony. It was a
fascinating question, one that, as in any good play, would not be answered
until the very end. The tension was delicious.
Nicholas was rooting for the gift to win the fatal contest. Poison was
all well and good, but what a vastly more intriguing twist of fate it would
be to see a wizard of Lord Rahl's ability and potential, a wizard unlike any
to be born since an era long buried in the dunghill of mankind's history,
succumb to his birthright--to his own vast but vain power .. . another
victim of men reaching too high in life. That would be a fascinating and
fitting end.
Not long to wait.
Not long at all.
Nicholas watched, not wanting to miss a single delectable detail. With
the spirit of Richard Rahl's lovely bride beside him, as it were, Nicholas
felt almost a part of the family as he attended the approach of such a great
man's tragic end.
Nicholas felt it only fair that the Mother Confessor should get to see
it all played out, see the sad end to her beloved. As she watched along with
Nicholas, she was suffering seeing the agony of it as Richard Rahl walked
back into his camp.
Nicholas savored her distress. He had not yet begun to make her suffer.
He would soon have a very long time with her to explore her capacity for
suffering.
The people there in the woods around the campfire looked up, curious as
their master returned among them. They all waited, with Nicholas, watching,
with Nicholas, as their Lord Rahl stood over them. His figure wavered in the
fire, as it did in Nicholas's vision. It was almost as if he were already
but a spirit, about to drift away into the glorious oblivion of the dead.
"I've figured it out," Lord Rahl told them. "I know how to attack the
fortification."
Nicholas's ears pricked up. What was this?
"At first light we go in," Lord Rahl said. "Just as the sun breaks over
the mountains. Right then, on the east side, we'll come in over the wall.
The guards won't be able to see well because the sun will be in their eyes
when they look in that direction. Men don't look where it's troublesome to
look."
"I like it," one of the other men said.
"So we will sneak in, then, rather than try to attack," another said.
"Oh, no, there will be an attack," Lord Rahl said. "A big attack. An
attack that will set their heads to spinning."
What was this? What was this? Nicholas watched, watched, watched. This
was most curious. First Lord Rahl was going to sneak over the wall, and then
he would have his men attack? How was he going to set their heads to
spinning? Nicholas was fascinated.
He moved in a little closer, fearing to miss a precious word.
"The attack will involve all the rest of you men," Lord Rahl said. "You
will all come in toward the gate at first light. While you're attacking
through the gate and drawing their attention, I will be slipping over the
wall. While you will be there to distract them, in part, you will play an
even more vital role that they will never expect."
The game was afoot. Nicholas was in rapture as he listened, as he
watched. He so liked the game--especially when he knew all the rules, and
could bend them to his wishes. It was going to be a glorious day, tomorrow.
"But, Lord Rahl," the big man, Tom, asked, "how are we going to be able
to attack through the gate if it's as formidable as you say?"
Nicholas hadn't thought of that. How curious. A key part of Lord Rahl's
plan seemed to be faulty.
"That's the real trick," Lord Rahl said. "I've already figured it out
and you'll be amazed to hear how you're going to do it."
He had already figured it out? How curious. Nicholas wanted to hear
what possible solution could solve such a major hitch in Lord Rahl's plan.
Lord Rahl stretched and yawned. "Look," he said, "I'm exhausted. I
can't stand up anymore. I need to get some rest before I lay it all out for
you. It's complicated, so I'd better wait until just before we leave.
"Wake me up two hours before dawn, and I'll explain the whole thing,
then."
"Two hours before dawn," Tom repeated in confirmation of the orders.
Nicholas was furious. He wanted to hear it now. He wanted to know the
wonderful, fabulous, complicated plan.
Lord Rahl gestured to his delicious companion, the one named Cara, and
then to several of the young men. "Why don't you come with me and get some
sleep while the rest finish their meal."
As they started away, Lord Rahl turned back. "Jennsen, I want you to
keep Betty here, with you. Make sure she stays here. I need some sleep; I
don't need the smell of goat to wake me up."
"Am I going with you in the morning, Richard?" the one called Jennsen
asked.
"Yes. You play an important part in the plan." Lord Rahl yawned again.
"I'll explain after I've slept. Don't forget, Tom. Two hours before dawn."
Tom nodded. "I will wake you myself, Lord Rahl."
Nicholas would be there as well, to watch, to hear the final piece of
Lord Rahl's plan. Nicholas could hardly stand to wait that long. He would be
there early. He would hear every word of it.
And then, Nicholas would have a surprise waiting for Richard Rahl when
he and his men came for a visit.
Maybe neither the poison nor his gift would take Lord Rahl.
Maybe Nicholas would do it himself.
Her spirit a helpless prisoner of the Slide, Kahlan could do nothing
but watch along with him. She was unable to answer Richard's forlorn pleas,
unable to cry in sorrow for him, unable to do anything. She ached to be able
to hold him in her arms again, to comfort his pain, his heartache.
He was near the end. She knew that. It broke her heart to see his
precious life slipping away.
To see his tears.
To hear him cry her name in longing.
To hear him say how much he needed her.
She felt so cold and alone. She loathed the feeling of being adrift.
She desperately wanted to be back in her body. It waited somewhere back in a
lonely room in the fortified encampment. Nicholas's body waited there, too.
If only she could get back there.
Most of all, she wished there were some way she could warn Richard that
Nicholas knew his plan.
Nicholas lay in wait in the camp, sniffing, listening, watching, eager
for the game to continue. He had come early, fearing to miss anything. He
was sure it had to be two hours before dawn--time for the last act of the
play. It was time for the man, Tom, to wake Lord Rahl. It was time. Watch,
watch, watch. Where was he? Somewhere, somewhere. Look, look, look.
Men off through the trees stood guard over the camp. Where was Tom?
There he was. Nicholas saw that Tom was one of the men standing vigil as
others slept. Didn't want to be late. Lord Rahl's orders. He wasn't
sleeping, he was awake, so he should know it was time.
What was the man waiting for? His master had given him a command. Why
wasn't he doing as he had been told?
The woman, Jennsen, woke and rubbed her eyes. She looked up and took
appraisal of the stars and moon. It was time--she knew it was. She threw off
her blanket.
Nicholas followed behind as she rushed past the low glow of the
smoldering embers, rushed through the stand of young trees, rushed to the
big man leaning against a stump.
"Tom, isn't it time to wake Richard?"
Somewhere back in a distant room in the fortification, where his body
waited, Nicholas heard an insistent noise. He was absorbed in the task at
hand, in the game, so he ignored the sound.
Probably Najari. The man was eager to have a chance to get at the
Mother Confessor, a chance to enjoy her more feminine charms. Nicholas had
told Najari that he would have his chance, but he had to wait until Nicholas
returned. Nicholas didn't want the man tampering with her body while they
were gone. Najari sometimes didn't know his own strength. The Mother
Confessor was valuable property and Nicholas didn't want that property
damaged.
Najari had proven to be a loyal man and deserved a small reward, but
not until later. He would not disobey Nicholas's orders. He would be sorry
if he did.
Maybe it was just--
Wait, wait. What was this? Watch, watch, watch. The man stood and put a
hand reassuringly on the young woman's shoulder. How very touching.
"Yes, I guess it is about time. Let's go wake Lord Rahl."
Again the noise. Stealthy, sharp yet soft.
Most odd. But it would have to wait.
Through the woods. Hurry. Watch, watch, watch. Hurry. Couldn't they
move faster? Didn't they grasp the importance of the occasion? Hurry, hurry,
hurry.
"Betty," the Jennsen woman growled, "stop bumping my legs."
Again there was a skulking sound back somewhere with his body.
And then, another, more urgent sound.
This time, the sound ran a sharp shiver through Nicholas's very soul.
It was as deadly a sound as he had ever heard.
As the Sword of Truth cleared its scabbard, the distinctive ring of
steel filled the dimly lit room.
With the sword came ancient magic, unhindered, unrestrained, unleashed.
The sword's power instantly inundated Richard with its boundless fury,
a fury that answered only to him. The force of that power flooded into every
fiber of his being. It had been so long since he had truly felt it, truly
felt the full magnitude of it, that for an instant Richard paused in the
exaltation of the profound experience of simply holding such a singular
weapon.
His own righteous wrath had already slipped its bounds. Joined now with
the pure rage of the Sword of Truth, both spiraled through him like twin
storms rampaging unchecked.
Richard gloried that they could, and at being the ultimate master of
both.
The Seeker of Truth willed both storms ever onward even as the sword
began its fearsome journey, the merciless lightning of those thun-derheads
about to strike.
The tip of the blade whistled though the night air, still two hours
before dawn.
Hesitant and uncertain, Nicholas watched as the man, Tom, and the
Jennsen woman moved through the woods to awaken their dying Lord Rahl.
Somewhere back in a distant room in the fortification, where his body
waited, Nicholas heard a scream.
It was not a scream of fear, but a riotous cry of unbridled rage. It
sent a shiver through his soul.
With sudden alarm, knowing that it could not be ignored, Nicholas
slammed back into his body where it sat on the floor, waiting for him.
Unsteady from the abrupt return, Nicholas blinked as he opened his
eyes.
Lord Rahl himself stood before him, feet spread, both hands gripping
his sword. It was a picture of sheer muscular force focused by terrifying
resolve.
Nicholas's eyes went wide at seeing the gleaming blade arcing through
the still air.
Lord Rahl was in the midst of a scream of startling power and rage.
Every bit of his might was committed to the swing of his sword.
Nicholas had a sudden and completely unexpected realization: he didn't
want to die. He very much wanted to live. As much as he hated life, he
realized, now, that he wanted to hold on to it.
He had to act.
He summoned his power, rallied his will. He had to stop this avenging
soul before him. He reached out with his power to seize this other's spirit.
He felt the horrifying shock of a staggering blow against the side of his
neck.
Richard was still screaming as his sword, with every ounce of power and
speed he could put behind it, swept around, just clearing the top of
Nicholas's left shoulder.
Richard saw every detail as the blade tore through flesh and bone,
turning muscle, tendon, arteries, and windpipe inside out, following with
precision the path to which the Seeker had justly committed it. Richard had
dedicated everything to the swift journey of his sword. Now, he watched as
that journey reached its destination, as the blade cleared the neck of
Nicholas the Slide, as the man's head, its mouth still opened in the
beginning of shock not fully comprehended, his beady eyes still trying to
grasp the totality of what they were seeing, lifted into the air, beginning
to turn ever so slowly as the sword below it passed along its deadly arc, as
curved ropes of the man's blood began tracing a long wet line across the
wall behind him.
Richard's scream ended as the sword's swing reached its limit. The
world came crashing back around him.
The head hit the floor with a loud, bone-cracking thunk.
It was ended.
Richard recalled the rage. He had to get it under control immediately.
He had something yet more important to accomplish.
In one fluid motion, Richard slid the bloody blade home into its
scabbard as he turned to the second body leaned up against the wall to the
right.
The sight of her almost overcame him. To see her there, alive,
breathing, seemingly unhurt, brought a wild rush of joy. His worst fears,
fears he would not even allow into his conscious mind, evaporated in an
instant.
But then he realized that she was not all right. She could not have
slept through such an attack.
Richard fell to his knees and took her up in his arms. She felt so
light, so limp. Her face was ashen and beaded with sweat. Her eyelids were
half closed, her eyes rolled back in her head.
Richard sank back within himself, seeking strength to bring back the
one he loved more than life itself. He opened his soul to her. All he
wanted, all he needed, as he held her to him, was for her to live, to be
whole.
Instinctively, in a way he did not fully understand, he let his power
well up from a place deep inside his mind. He released himself into the
torrent as it rushed onward. He let his love of her, his need of her, flood
through their connection as he hugged her to his breast.
"Come home to where you belong," he whispered to her.
He let the core of his power course through her, intending it to be
like a beacon to light her way. It felt as if he were searching through the
dark, using the light of ability from deep within to help him. Even though
he couldn't define the precise mechanism, he could consciously focus his
purpose, his need, and what he wanted to accomplish.
"Come home to me, Kahlan. I'm here."
Kahlan gasped. Even though she hung limp, he felt the intensity of the
life in his arms. She gasped again, as if she had nearly drowned and needed
air.
At last, she stirred in his arms, her limbs moving,' groping. She
opened her eyes, blinking, and looked up. Astonished, she sank back into his
arms.
"Richard ... I heard you. I was so alone. Dear spirits, I was so alone.
I didn't know what to do.... I heard Nicholas scream. I was lost and alone.
I didn't know how to get back. And then I felt you."
She embraced him tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.
"You led me back through the darkness."
Richard smiled down at her. "I'm a guide, remember?"
She puzzled at him. "How could you do that?" Her beautiful green eyes
opened expectantly. "Richard, your gift..."
"I figured out the problem with my gift. Kaja-Rang had given me the
solution. I'd had the solution long before that, but I never realized it. My
gift is fine, now, and the sword's power works again. I was being so blind
that I will be ashamed to tell it all to you."
Richard's breath caught, and he coughed, then, unable to hold it back
any longer. Nor could he hold back grimacing at the pain.
Kahlan gripped his arms. "The antidote--what happened to the antidote!
I sent it back with Owen. Didn't you get it?"
Richard shook his head as he coughed again, the pain feeling as though
it ripped him deep inside. He finally regained his breath. "Well, now, that
is a problem. It wasn't the antidote. It was just water with a bit of
cinnamon in it."
Kahlan's face went ashen. "But. .." She looked over at Nicholas's body,
at his head lying upended at the end of a bloody trail across the floor.
"Richard, if Nicholas is dead, how are we going to get the antidote?"
"There isn't any antidote. Nicholas wanted me dead. He would have
destroyed the antidote long ago. He gave you a fake to be able to capture
you."
Her face had gone from joy to horror.
"But, without the antidote ..."
There's no time to worry about the poison just now," Richard told her
as he helped her to her feet.
No time? She watched his step falter as he made his way across the
room. He groped for the window ledge.
At the small window opening in the outer wall of the fortification he
signaled with the high, clear whistle of the common wood pewee-- the whistle
Cara thought was that of the mythical short-tailed pine hawk.
"I used a ladder pole," he explained. "Cara is on her way."
Kahlan tried to make her way over to him, but her body felt alarmingly
unfamiliar to her. She staggered a couple of steps, her legs moving
woodenly. She had the urge to get down on her hands and feet to walk. She
felt like a stranger inside her own skin. It seemed foreign to have to
breathe on her own, to have to look through her own eyes, to have to listen
through her own ears. It was a strange, haunting sensation to feel her
clothes against her skin.
Richard held out his hand to help steady her. Kahlan thought that as
wobbly as she was, she might still be more steady on her feet than Richard.
"We're going to have to fight our way out," he said, "but we'll have
some help. I'll get you the first sword I can."
" Richard blew out the flame of the single candle before a tin
reflector on a small shelf.
"Richard, I'm not yet used to being . . . back inside myself. I don't
think I'm ready to go out there. I can hardly walk."
"We don't have a lot of choice. We have to get out. Learn as you go.
I'll help you."
"You can hardly walk yourself."
Cara, at the top of a pole ladder Richard had cut, leaned forward and
wriggled in through the small window.
Halfway in, Cara gaped in delighted wonder. "Mother Confessor-- Lord
Rahl did it."
"You don't need to sound so surprised," Richard griped as he helped the
Mord-Sith the rest of the way in.
Cara only briefly took note of the dead man sprawled across the floor
before Kahlan threw her arms around the woman.
"You can't imagine how glad I am to see you," Cara said.
"Well, you can't imagine how glad I am to see you through my own eyes."
"If only the trade you made had worked," Cara added in a whisper.
"We'll find another way," Kahlan assured her.
Richard slowly drew the door open a crack and peeked out. He shut the
door and turned back.
"It's clear. Doors to the left and around the balcony are the rooms
with the women in them. Stairs to the right are the closest that lead down.
Some of the rooms at the bottom are for officers; others are barracks for
soldiers."
Cara nodded. "I'm ready."
Kahlan looked from one to the other. "Ready for what?"
Richard took her by the elbow. "I need you to help me see."
"Help you see? Is it progressing that fast?"
"Just listen. We're going to move along the balcony to the left and
open the doors. Do your best to keep the women calm. We're going to break
them out of here."
Kahlan was a bit confused by everything--it was completely different
from the plans she had been hearing along with Nicholas. She knew she would
just have to follow Richard and Cara's lead.
Outside, on the simple wooden balcony, there were no lamps or torches.
The moon was down behind the black sprawl of the mountains. Kahlan's sight
when Nicholas had controlled her had been like looking through a greasy pane
of wavy glass. The sparkling vault of stars overhead had never looked so
beautiful. In that starlight, Kahlan could see simple buildings lined up
around the outer wall of the fortification.
Richard and Cara moved along the balcony, opening doors. At each one,
Cara quickly ducked inside. Some of the women came out in their nightshirts;
some Kahlan could hear inside rushing to get dressed. In some of the rooms,
babies cried.
While Cara was in one of the rooms, Richard opened another door. He
leaned close to Kahlan and whispered, "Go in and tell the women inside that
we've come to help them escape. Tell them that their men have come to get
them out. But they must be as quiet as possible, or we'll be caught."
Kahlan rushed in, as best she could on unsteady legs, and woke the
young woman in the bed to the right. She sat up, terrified, but silent.
Kahlan reached around and shook the woman in the other bed.
"We've come to help you escape. You mustn't make any noise. Your men
are going to help. You have a chance to be free."
"Free?" the first woman asked.
"Yes. It's up to you, but I strongly advise you to take the chance, and
to hurry."
The women flew out of their beds and grabbed for clothes.
Richard, Kahlan, and Cara moved farther down the balcony, asking the
women who had already come out to help rouse the others. In a matter of a
few minutes, hundreds of women were huddled together out on the balcony.
There was no problem keeping them quiet; they were all too familiar with the
consequences of causing trouble. They didn't want to do anything to get
themselves caught trying to escape. Before long, they had made it all the
way around the fortification balcony.
Many of the women had very young babies--ones too young to be taken
away. The babies were mostly sound asleep in their mothers' arms, but some
of them started to cry. The mothers desperately tried to rock and cuddle
them into silence. Kahlan hoped that it was a common enough sound that it
wouldn't draw the attention of the soldiers.
"Wait here," Richard whispered to Kahlan. "Keep everyone up here until
we get the gate open."
With Cara right behind him, Richard slipped carefully down the steps
and started across the open yard. When one of the babies suddenly began
bawling, soldiers came out of a building to see what was going on. They
spotted Richard and Kahlan. The soldiers yelled, sounding an alarm.
Kahlan heard the distinctive ring of steel as Richard drew his sword.
Men rushed out of some of the doors, heading Richard and Cara off. Being
used to dealing with these people, the men rushing toward Richard apparently
weren't greatly concerned about violence. They were wrong, and fell as soon
as they got close enough for Richard to strike. Some Richard took down as he
ran; others Cara caught as they tried to come in from the side.
The screams of some of the men as they fell woke the whole encampment.
Men rushed out of barracks below, pulling on their trousers and shirts,
dragging weapon belts behind.
In the faint starlight, Kahlan spotted Richard by the dropgate. He took
a mighty swing. Sparks showered across the wall as the sword shattered one
of the heavy chains holding up the gate. Richard ran to the other side, to
cut the other chain. Two men caught up to him there. In one fluid movement,
Richard cut them both down.
As Cara dropped other men who were rushing in at Richard, he swung the
sword again. White-hot fragments of steel filled the air along with the
ringing sound of metal shattering. The gate groaned and slowly started to
fall outward. Richard heaved his weight against it and it picked up speed.
With a resounding crash, it came down, raising clouds of dust.
A great cry rose up as men outside, wielding swords, axes, and battle
maces, charged in across the broken bridge and into the fortification. The
soldiers rushed to meet the invasion and there was a great clash of weapons
and men.
Kahlan saw, then, that soldiers were racing up the stairway on the
opposite side of the balcony.
"Come on!" Kahlan yelled to the women. "We have to get out now!"
Holding the rail to keep her balance, Kahlan raced down the steps, all
the women pouring down behind her, a number carrying screaming babies.
Richard ran to meet her at the bottom. He tossed her a short sword with a
leather-wound grip. Kahlan caught it by the handle just in time to turn and
slash a soldier running up from beneath the balcony.
Owen made his way through the fighting and over to the women. "Come
on!" he called to them. "Get to the gate! Run!"
The women, galvanized by his command, started running across the
compound. As they reached the fighting, some of the women, instead of
running out the gate, took the opportunity to leap on the backs of soldiers
fighting Owen and his men. The women bit the men on the backs, beat at their
heads, tore at their eyes. The soldiers were not restrained in dealing with
the women, and several were brutally killed. It didn't stop others from
joining the fight.
If they would only run for the gate, they could escape, but instead,
they were attacking the soldiers with their bare hands. They had been held
in bondage to these men for a very long time. Kahlan could only imagine what
they had gone through and couldn't say she blamed them. She was still having
difficulty moving, making her body do what she wanted it to do, or she would
have joined them.
Kahlan turned at a sound only to see a man charging in at her. She
recognized his flattened nose. Najari--Nicholas's right-hand man. He was one
of the men who had carried her to the fortification. He wore a wicked grin
as he came for her.
She could have used her power on him, but she feared to trust it right
then. She instead brought the short sword out from behind her back and
slammed it through Najari's gut. He stood stiffly right in front of her, his
eyes wide. She could smell the stink of his breath. Kahlan wrenched the
handle of the sword to the side. Mouth opened wide, he panted, fearing to
draw a deep breath, fearing to move and cause any more damage. Kahlan
gritted her teeth and swept the sword's handle around in an arc, ripping his
insides apart.
She stared into his startled eyes as he slid off her sword. He grunted
in pain as he dropped to his knees, holding his wound together as best he
could. He never got what Kahlan knew he intended, what Nicholas had promised
him. He fell forward onto his face, spilling his insides across the ground
at her feet.
Kahlan turned to the attack. Richard was engaged in slashing his way
through men trying to surround him as he fought to keep the gate clear.
Others, Richard's men, came at the enemy from behind, cutting into them the
way Richard had taught them.
Kahlan saw Owen not far away. He was standing in the open, among the
fallen and the fighting, staring across the raging battle to a man just
outside one of the doors under the balcony.
The man had a thick black beard, a shaved head, and a ring through one
ear and one nostril. His arms were as big as tree limbs. His shoulders were
twice as wide as Owen's.
"Luchan." Owen said to himself.
Owen started across the open area of the fortification, past men
engaged in pitched battle, past those crying out and those falling to
blades, past swords and axes sweeping through the air, as if he didn't even
see them. His eyes were locked on the man watching him come.
The face of a young woman appeared in the dark doorway behind Luchan He
turned and growled at her to go back inside, that he was going to take care
of the little man from her village.
When Luchan turned back around, Owen was standing before him.
Luchan laughed and put his fists on his hips. "Why don't you scurry
back into your hole?"
Owen said nothing, gave no warning, made no demands. He simply lit into
Luchan with a vengeance -- just as Richard had counseled him to do --
slamming a knife into the big man's chest over and over before Luchan had a
chance to react. He had underestimated Owen. It had cost him his life.
The woman rushed out of the doorway and came to a halt over the body of
her former master. She stared down at him, at his one arm splayed out to the
side, at the other lying across his bloody chest, at the unseeing eyes. She
looked up at Owen.
Kahlan assumed that this was Marilee, and feared that she was going to
reject Owen for harming another, that she would castigate him for what be
had done.
Instead, she rushed to Owen and threw her arms around him.
The woman went to her knees beside the body and took the bloody knife
from Owen's hand. She turned to the fallen Luchan and stabbed him half a
dozen times with such force that it drove the knife in up to the hilt with
every thrust. Watching her tearful fury, Kahlan didn't have to wonder how
she had been treated by the man.
Her anger spent, she stood again and tearfully hugged Owen.
Kahlan needed to get to Richard. She was relieved that her ability to
move as she intended was returning. She started making her way around the
edge of the battle, staying close to the walls, past men who saw her and
thought she would be an easy mark. They didn't know that from a young age
she had been taught to use a sword by her father, King Wyborn, and that
Richard had later honed her skill to deadly proficiency, teaching her how to
use her lighter weight to give her lethal speed. It was the last mistake the
men made.
Off across the open area, a mob of soldiers, now fully awake and fully
prepared to engage in battle, swarmed out of the barracks. They all charged
for Richard. Kahlan knew right away that there were too many. Richard's men
couldn't stop the flood of soldiers as they streamed across the encampment.
All of them crashed in toward Richard.
Kahlan heard a deafening crack like lightning as the walls of the
fortification lit with a flash. She had to turn away and shield her eyes.
Night turned to day, and at the same time, a darkness darker than any night
was loosed.
A blazing white-hot bolt of Additive Magic twisted and coiled around
and through a crackling black void of Subtractive Magic, creating a violent
rope of twin lightning joined to a terrible purpose.
It seemed as if the noonday sun crashed down among them. The air itself
was drawn into the fierce heat and light. Try as she might, Kahlan couldn't
draw a breath against the force of it.
Richard's fury gathered it all into a single point. In an explosive
instant, the thunderous ignition of light unleashed a devastating blast of
staggering destruction radiating outward across the entire encampment,
annihilating the Imperial Order soldiers.
The night fell dark and silent.
Men and women stood stunned among the sea of blood and viscera, gazing
around at the unrecognizable remains of the enemy soldiers.
The battle was over. The people of Bandakar had carried the day. At
last, the women fell to wailing and crying, ecstatic to be free. They knew
many of the men who had come to free them, and clung to them in gratitude,
overwhelmed with joy to be reunited. They hugged friends, relatives, and
strangers alike. The men, too, wept with relief and happiness.
Kahlan rushed through the maze of rejoicing people crowded into the
open area of the fortification. Men cheered her, thrilled that she, too, had
been liberated. Many of the men wanted to talk to her, but she kept running
to get to Richard.
He stood to the side, leaning against the wall, Cara helping to hold
him up. He still gripped his blood-slicked sword in his fist, the blade's
tip resting on the ground.
Owen, too, made his way over to Richard.
"Mother Confessor! I'm so relieved and thankful to have you back!" He
looked over at a smiling Richard. "Lord Rahl, I would like you to meet
Marilee."
This woman, who only a short time ago had savagely stabbed the corpse
of her captor now seemed too shy to speak. She dipped her head in greeting.
Richard straightened and smiled that smile Kahlan so loved to see, a
smile filled with the sheer pleasure of life. "I'm very happy to meet you,
Marilee. Owen has told us all about you, and about how much you mean to him.
Through all that happened, you were always first in his mind and heart. His
love for you moved him to act to change his entire empire for the better."
She seemed to be overwhelmed by it all, and by his words.
"Lord Rahl came to us and did something more important than saving us
all," Owen told Marilee. "Lord Rahl gave me the courage to come and fight
for you, to fight to save you--for all of us to fight for our own lives and
the lives of those we love."
Beaming, Marilee leaned in and kissed Richard on the cheek. "Thank you,
Lord Rahl. I never knew my Owen could do such things."
"Believe me," Cara said, "we had our doubts about him, too." She
clapped Owen on the back of the shoulder. "But he did well."
"I, too, have come to understand the value of what he has done,"
Marilee said to Richard, "of the things you seem to have taught our people."
Richard smiled at the two of them, but then he could no longer hold
back the coughing that so hurt him. The mood of joyous liberation suddenly
changed. People rushed in around them, helping to hold him up. Kahlan saw
blood running down his chin.
"Richard," she cried. "No ..."
They eased him to the ground. He clutched at Kahlan's sleeve, wanting
to have her close. Kahlan saw tears running down Cara's cheek.
It seemed that he had spent all the strength he had left. He was
slipping into the fatal grasp of the poison, and there was nothing they
could do for him.
"Owen," Richard said, panting to catch his breath when the spell of
coughing stopped. "How far to your town?" His voice was getting hoarse.
"Not far--only hours, if we hurry."
"The man who made the poison and the antidote ... he lived there?"
"Yes. His place is still there."
"Take me there."
Owen looked puzzled, but he nodded eagerly. "Of course."
"Hurry," Richard added, trying to get up. He couldn't.
Tom appeared in the crowd. Jennsen was there, too.
"Get some poles!" Tom commanded. "And some canvas, or blankets. We'll
make a litter. Four men at a time can carry him. We can run and get him
there quickly."
Men rushed to the buildings, searching for what they would need to make
a litter.
Kahlan hurriedly pulled the tin off the shelf and opened the lid. The
tin contained a yellowish powder. It was the right color. She leaned down
and showed it to Richard as he lay in the litter. He reached in and took a
pinch.
He smelled it. He put his tongue to it and then nodded.
"Just a little," he whispered, lifting it out to her. Kahlan held out
her palm while he dribbled some of the crushed powder in her hand. He threw
the rest on the floor, too weak to bother returning it to the tin. Kahlan
added the small portion on her palm to one of the pots of boiling water.
Cloth bags of herbs steeped in other pots of hot water. Alkaloids from
dried mushrooms were soaking in oil. Richard had other people grating stalks
of plants.
"Lobelia," Richard said. His eyes were closed.
Owen bent down. "Lobelia?"
Richard nodded. "It will be a dried herb."
Owen turned to the shelves and started looking. There were hundreds of
little square cubbyholes in the wall of the place where the man who had made
Richard's poison, and the antidote, used to work. It was a small, simple,
single-room building with little light. It was not nearly as well equipped
as the herbalist places Kahlan had seen before, but the man had an extensive
collection of things. More than that, he had once made the antidote,
presumably from what was there.
"Here!" Owen said, holding a bag down for Richard to see. "It says
lobelia on the tag."
"Grind a little pile half the size of your thumbnail, sift out the
fibers and discard them, then add what's left to the bowl with the darker
oil."
Richard knew about herbs, but he didn't know anywhere near enough about
herbs to concoct the cure for the poison he had been given.
His gift seemed to be guiding him.
Richard was in a near trance, or nearly unconscious; Kahlan wasn't
exactly sure which. He was having difficulty breathing. She didn't know what
else to do to help him. If they didn't do something, he was going to die,
and soon. As long as he lay quietly on the litter he was resting more
comfortably, but that was not going to make him recover.
It had been a short run to Witherton, but it had taken too long as far
as Kahlan was concerned.
"Yarrow," Richard said.
Kahlan leaned down. "What preparation?"
"Oil," Richard said.
Kahlan fumbled through the shelves of small bottles. She found one
labeled YARROW OIL. She squatted down and held it before Richard.
"How much?"
She lifted one of his hands and put the bottle in it, closing his
fingers around it so he could tell its size. "How much?"
"Is it full?"
Kahlan hurriedly wiggled out the whittled wooden stopper. "Yes."
"Half," Richard said. "In with any of the other oils."
"I found the feverfew," Jennsen said as she hopped down from the stool.