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would have to let Adie know. He doubted, though, that with her gifted sight
she would need the warning. He was sure that with her blind eyes she could
see better than anyone.
Following the wonderful aroma of ham stew, Zedd made his way to the
comfortable room lined with bookshelves they used most of the time. Adie had
hung spices to dry from the low beams carved with ancient designs. A leather
couch sat before a broad fireplace and comfortable chairs beside a
silver-inlaid table placed in front of a diamond-patterned leaded window
with a breathtaking view overlooking Aydindril.
The sun was setting, leaving the city below bathed in a warm light. It
almost looked like it always did, except there was no telltale smoke curling
up from cooking fires.
Zedd set his burlap sack loaded with his harvest on piles of books atop
a round mahogany table behind the couch. He shuffled closer to the fire, all
the while taking deep breaths to inhale the intoxicating aroma of the stew.
"Adie," he called, "this smells delightful! Have you looked outside
today? I saw the oddest birds."
He smiled as he inhaled another whiff.
"Adie--I think it must be done by now," he called toward the doorway to
the side pantry room. "I think we ought to taste it, at least. Can't hurt to
check, you know."
Zedd glanced back over his shoulder. "Adie? Are you listening to me?"
He went to the doorway and peered into the pantry, but it was empty.
"Adie?" he called down the stairs at the back of the pantry. "Are you
down there?"
Zedd's mouth twisted with discontentment when she didn't answer.
"Adie?" he called again. "Bags, woman, where are you?"
He turned back, peering at the stew bubbling in the kettle hung on the
crane over the fire. Zedd scooped up a long wooden spoon from a pantry
cupboard.
Spoon in hand, he stopped and leaned back toward the stairs. "Take your
time, Adie. I'll just be up here . .. reading."
Zedd grinned and hurried for the stew.
Richard rose up in a rush when he saw Cara marching up a ravine toward
camp, pushing ahead of her a man Richard vaguely recognized. In the failing
light, he couldn't make out the man's face. Richard scanned the surrounding
flat washes, rocky hills, and steep tree-covered slopes beyond, but didn't
see anyone else.
Friedrich was off to the south and Tom to the west, checking the
surrounding country, as Cara had been, to be sure there was no one about and
that it was a safe place to spend the night; they were exhausted from
picking a sinuous route through the increasingly rugged country. Cara had
been checking north--the direction they were headed and the direction
Richard considered potentially the most dangerous. Jennsen turned from the
animals, waiting to see who the Mord-Sith had with her.
Once on his feet, Richard wished he hadn't gotten up quite so
quickly--doing so made him light-headed. He couldn't seem to shake the odd,
disconnected sensation he felt, as if he were watching someone else react,
talk, move. When he concentrated, forcing himself to focus his attention,
the feeling would sometimes drift at least partly away and he would begin to
wonder if it was only his imagination.
Kahlan's hand slipped up on his arm, gripping him as if she thought he
might fall.
"Are you all right?" she whispered.
He nodded as he watched Cara and the man as he also kept an eye on the
surrounding countryside. By the end of their ride earlier that afternoon to
discuss the book, Kahlan had become even more worried about him. They were
both troubled about what he'd read, but Kahlan was far more concerned, at
the moment, anyway, about him.
Richard suspected that he might be coming down with a slight fever.
That would explain why he was feeling so cold when everyone else was hot.
From time to time, Kahlan would feel his forehead or place the back of her
hand against his cheek. Her touch warmed his heart; she ignored his smiles
as she fretted over him. She thought that he might be slightly feverish.
Once she had Jennsen feel his forehead to see if she thought he might be
warmer than he should be. Jennsen, too, thought that, if he did have a
fever, it was minor. Cara, so far, had been satisfied by Kahlan's report
that he didn't feel feverish, and hadn't deemed it necessary to see for
herself.
A fever was just about the last thing Richard needed. There were
important... important, something. He couldn't seem to recall at the moment.
He concentrated on trying to remember the young man's name, or at least
where he'd seen him before.
The last rays of the setting sun cast a pink glow across the mountains
to the east. The closer hills were dimming to a soft gray in the gathering
dusk. As darkness approached, the low fire was beginning to tint everything
close around it a warm yellow-orange. Richard had kept the cook fire small,
not wanting it to signal their location any more than necessary.
"Lord Rahl," the man said in a reverent tone as he stepped into camp.
He dipped his head forward in a hesitant bow, apparently not sure if it was
proper to bow or not. "It's an honor to see you again."
He was perhaps a couple of years younger than Richard, with curly black
hair that brushed the broad shoulders of his buckskin tunic. He wore a long
knife at his belt but no sword. His ears stuck out to the sides of his head
as if he were straining to listen to every little sound. Richard imagined
that as a boy he'd probably endured a lot of taunts about his ears, but now
that he was a man his ears made him look rather intent and serious. As
muscular as the man was, Richard doubted that he still had to contend with
taunts.
"I'm . .. I'm sorry, but I can't quite seem to recall..."
"Oh, no, you wouldn't remember me, Lord Rahl. I was only--"
"Sabar," Richard said as it came to him. "Sabar. You loaded the
furnaces in Priska's foundry, back in Altur'Rang."
Sabar beamed. "That's right. I can't believe you remember me."
Sabar had been one of the men at the foundry able to have work because
of the supplies Richard hauled to Priska when no one else could. Sabar had
understood how hard Priska worked just to keep his foundry alive under the
oppressive, endless, and contradictory mandates of the Order. Sabar had been
there the day the statue Richard carved had been unveiled; he had seen it
before it was destroyed. He had been there at the beginning of the
revolution in Altur'Rang, fighting close alongside Victor, Priska, and all
the others who had seized the moment when it was upon them. Sabar had fought
to help gain freedom for himself, his friends, and for his city.
That had been a day everything had changed.
Even though this man, like many others, had been a subject of the
Imperial Order--one of the enemy--he wanted to live his own life under just
laws, rather than under the dictates of despots who extinguished any hope of
bettering oneself under the crushing burden of the cruel illusion of a
greater good.
Richard noticed, then, that everyone was standing in tense
anticipation, as if they had expected this to be trouble.
Richard smiled at Cara. "It's all right. I know him."
"So he told me," Cara said. She put a hand on Sabar's shoulder and
pushed him down. "Have a seat."
"Yes," Richard said, glad to see that Cara had been fairly amiable
about it. "Sit down and tell us why you're here."
"Nicci sent me."
Richard rose again in a rush, Kahlan coming up right beside him.
"Nicci? We're on our way to meet her."
Sabar nodded, rising into a half crouch, seeming not to be sure if he
was supposed to stand, since Richard and Kahlan had, or stay seated
Cara hadn't sat down; she stood behind Sabar like an executioner. Cara
had been there when the revolution in Altur'Rang had started and might
remember Sabar, but that would make no difference. Cara trusted no one where
the safety of Richard and Kahlan was concerned.
Richard gestured for Sabar to remain seated. "Where is she," Richard
asked as he and Kahlan sat down again, sharing a seat on a bedroll. "Is she
coming soon?"
"Nicci said to tell you that she waited as long as she could, but there
have been some urgent developments and she could wait no longer."
Richard let out a disappointed sigh. "Some things came up for us, too."
Kahlan had been captured and taken to the Pillars of Creation as bait to
lure Richard into a trap. Rather than go into all that, he kept the story
short and to the point. "We were trying to get to Nicci, but needed to go
elsewhere. It was unavoidable."
Sabar nodded. "I was worried when she returned to us and said that you
had not shown up at your meeting place, but she told us that she was sure
you were busy taking care of something important and that was the reason you
had not come.
"Victor Cascella, the blacksmith, was very worried, too, when Nicci
told us this. He was thinking you would be returning with Nicci. He said
that other places he knows, places he and Priska have dealings with for
supplies and such, are on the verge of revolt. These people have heard about
Altur'Rang, how the Order has been overthrown there, and how people are
beginning to prosper. He said that he knows free men in these places who
struggle to survive under the oppression of the Order as we once did, and
they hunger to be free. They want Victor's help.
"Some of the Brothers in the Fellowship of Order who escaped from
Altur'Rang have gone to these other places to insure that such revolt does
not spread there. Their cruelty in punishing any they suspect of
insurrection is costing the lives of many people, both the innocent and
those valuable to the cause of overthrowing the Imperial Order.
"In order to insure their control of the gears of governance and to
ready the Order's defense against the spread of the revolt, Brothers of the
Order have gone to all the important cities, Surely, some of these priests
have also gone to report to Jagang the fall of Altur'Rang, of the loss of so
many officials in the fighting there, and of the deaths of Brothers Narev
and many of his close circle of disciples."
"Jagang already knows of the death of Brother Narev," Jennsen said,
offering him a cup of water.
Sabar smiled his satisfaction at her news. He thanked her for the
water, then leaned forward toward Richard and Kahlan as he went on with his
story.
"Priska thinks the Order will want to sweep away the success of the
revolt in Altur'Rang--that they can't afford to let it stand. He said that
instead of worrying about spreading the revolt, we must prepare, make
defenses, and have every man stand ready because the Order will return with
the intent of slaughtering every last person in Altur'Rang."
Sabar hesitated, clearly worried about Priska's warning. "Victor,
though, said we should hammer the iron while it is hot and create a just and
secure future for ourselves, rather than wait for the Order to gather their
strength to deny us that future. He says that if the revolt is spreading
everywhere, the Order will not so easily stamp it out."
Richard ran a weary hand across his face. "Victor is right. If those in
Altur'Rang try to sit alone as a singular place of freedom in the heart of
hostile enemy territory, the Order will sweep in and cut out that heart. The
Order can't survive on its perverted ideals and they know it; that's why
they must use force to sustain their beliefs. Without that bully of force,
the Order will crumble.
"Jagang spent twenty years creating a system of roads to knit a diverse
and fractured Old World together into the Imperial Order. That was but part
of the means of how he succeeded. Many resisted the rantings of his priests.
With roads to swiftly respond to any dissent, though, Jagang was able to
react quickly, to sweep in and kill those who openly opposed his new Order.
"More importantly, after eliminating those who resisted the Order's
teachings, he filled the minds of children, who didn't know any better, with
blind faith in those teachings, turning them into zealots eager to die for
what they were taught was a noble cause--sacrifice to some all-consuming
greater good.
"Those young men, their minds twisted with the teachings of the Order,
are now off to the north conquering the New World, butchering any who will
not take up their altruistic tenets.
"But while Jagang and that vast army are to the north, that strength
there leaves the Order weak here. That weakness is our opportunity and we
must capitalize on it. Now, while Jagang and his men are absent, those same
roads he built down here will be our means of rapidly spreading the struggle
for freedom far and wide.
"The torch of freedom has been lit by the will of those like you, those
in Altur'Rang who seized liberty for themselves. The flames of that torch
must be held high, giving others the chance to see its light. If hidden and
insulated, such flames will be extinguished by the Order. There may never be
another chance in our lifetimes, or our children's lifetimes, to seize
control of our own lives. That torch must be carried to other places."
Sabar smiled, filled with quiet pride that he had been a part of it all
coming to be. "I know that Victor would like for others, like Priska, to be
reminded of such things, of what the Lord Rahl would say about what we must
do. Victor wants to talk to you before he goes to these places to 'pump the
bellows,' as he put it. Victor said that he awaits your word on how you
would move next, on how best to 'put the white-hot iron to them'--again, his
words."
"So Nicci sent you to find me."
"Yes. I was happy to go to you when she asked me. Victor will be happy,
too, not only that you are well but to hear what the Lord Rahl would say to
him."
While Victor was awaiting word, Richard also knew that absent such
word, Victor would act. The revolution did not revolve around Richard--it
couldn't to be successful--but around the hunger of people to have their
lives back. Still, Richard needed to help coordinate the spreading revolt in
order to be sure it was as effective as possible, not just at bringing
freedom to those who sought it, but at crumbling the foundation of the Order
in the Old World. Only if they were successful in toppling the rule of the
Order in the Old World would Jagang's attention--and many of his men--be
pulled away from conquering the New World.
Jagang intended to conquer the New World by first dividing it. Richard
had to do the same if he was to succeed. Only dividing the Order's forces
could defeat it.
Richard knew that with everyone evacuated from Aydindril, the Imperial
Order would now turn its swords on D'Hara. Despite the competence of the
D'Haran troops, they would be overwhelmed by the numbers that Jagang would
throw at them. If the Order was not diverted from its cause, or at least
divided into smaller forces, D'Hara would fall under the shadow of the
Order. The D'Haran Empire, forged to unite the New World against tyranny,
would end before it had really gotten started.
Richard had to get back to Victor and Nicci so that they could all
continue what they had begun--devising the most effective strategy to
overthrow the Imperial Order.
But they were running out of time to resolve another problem, a problem
they didn't yet understand.
"I'm glad you found us, Sabar. You can tell Victor and Nicci that we
need to see to something first, but as soon as we do, we'll be able to help
them with their plans."
Sabar looked relieved. "Everyone will be happy to hear this."
Sabar hesitated, then tilted his head, gesturing north. "Lord Rahl,
when I came to find you, following the directions Nicci gave me, I went past
the area where she was to meet with you, and then I continued coming south."
Worry stole into his expression. "Not many days ago, I came to a place,
miles wide, that was dead."
Richard looked up. He realized that his headache seemed to be suddenly
gone. "What do you mean, dead?"
Sabar waved his hand out toward the evening gloom. "The area where I
was traveling was much like this place; there were some trees, clumps of
grass, thickets of brush." His voice lowered. "But then I came to a place
where everything that grew ended. All at the same place. There was nothing
but rock beyond. Nicci had not told me that I would come to such a place. I
admit, I was afraid."
Richard glanced to his right--to the east--to the mountains that lay
beyond. "How long did this dead place last?"
"I walked, leaving life behind, and I thought I might be walking into
the underworld itself." Sabar looked away from Richard's eyes. "Or into the
jaws of some new weapon the Order had created to destroy us all.
"I came to be very afraid and I was going to turn back. But then I
thought about how the Order made me afraid my whole life, and I didn't like
that feeling. Worse, I thought about how I would stand before Nicci and tell
her I turned around rather than go to Lord Rahl as she asked of me, and that
thought made me ashamed, so I went on. In several miles I came again to
growing things." He let out a breath. "I was greatly relieved, and then I
felt a little foolish that I had been afraid."
Two. That now made two of the strange boundaries.
"I've been to places like that, Sabar, and I can tell you that I, too,
have been afraid."
Sabar broke into a grin. "Then I was not so foolish to be afraid."
"Not foolish at all. Could you tell if this dead area was extensive?
Could you tell if it was more than just a patch of open rock in that one
place? Could you see if it ran in a line, ran in any direction in
particular?"
"It was like you say, like a line." Sabar flicked his hand toward the
east. "It came down out of the far mountains, north of that depression." He
held his hand flat like a cleaver, and sliced it downward in the other
direction. "It ran off to the southwest, into that wasteland."
Toward the Pillars of Creation.
Kahlan leaned close and spoke under her breath. "That would be almost
parallel to the boundary we crossed not far back to the south. Why would
there be two boundaries so close together? That makes no sense."
"I don't know," Richard whispered to her. "Maybe whatever the boundary
was protecting was so dangerous that whoever placed it feared that one might
not be enough."
Kahlan rubbed her upper arms but didn't comment. By the look on her
face, Richard knew how she felt about such a notion--especially considering
that those boundaries were now down.
"Anyway," Sabar said with a self-conscious shrug, "I was happy I did
not turn back, or I would have had to face Nicci after she had asked me to
help Lord Rahl--my friend Richard."
Richard smiled. "I'm glad, too, Sabar. I don't think that place you
went through is a danger any longer, at least not a danger the way it was
once."
Jennsen could contain her curiosity no longer. "Who is this Nicci?"
"Nicci is a sorceress," Richard said. "She used to be a Sister of the
Dark."
Jennsen's eyebrows went up. "Used to?"
Richard nodded. "She worked to further Jagang's cause, but she finally
came to see how wrong she had been and joined our side." It was a story he
didn't really feel like going into. "She now fights for us. Her help has
been invaluable."
Jennsen leaned in, even more astonished. "But can you trust someone
like that, someone who had labored on behalf of Jagang? Worse, a Sister of
the Dark? Richard, I've been with some of those women, I know how ruthless
they are. They may have to do as Jagang makes them, but they're devoted to
the Keeper of the underworld. Do you really think you can trust with your
life that she will not betray you?"
Richard looked Jennsen in the eye. "I trust you with a knife while I
sleep."
Jennsen sat back up. She smiled, more out of embarrassment than
anything else, Richard thought. "I guess I see your point."
"What else did Nicci say," Kahlan asked, keen to get back to the matter
at hand.
"Only that I must go in her place and meet you," Sabar said.
Richard knew that Nicci was being cautious. She didn't want to tell the
young man too much in case he was caught.
"How did she know where I was?"
"She said that she was able to tell where you were by magic. Nicci is
as powerful with magic as she is beautiful."
Sabar said this in a tone of awe. He didn't know the half of it. Nicci
was one of the most powerful sorceresses ever to have lived. Sabar didn't
know that when Nicci was laboring toward the ends sought by the Order, she
was known as Death's Mistress.
Richard surmised that Nicci had somehow used the bond to the Lord Rahl
to find him. That bond was loyalty sworn in the heart, not by rote, and its
power protected those so sworn from the dream walker entering their minds.
Full-blooded D'Harans, like Cara, could tell through the bond where the Lord
Rahl was. Kahlan had confided to him that she found it unnerving the way
Cara always knew where Richard was. Nicci wasn't D'Haran, but she was a
sorceress and she was bonded to Richard, so she might have been able to
manipulate that bond to tell where he was.
"Sabar, Nicci must have sent you to us for a reason," Richard said,
"other than to say that she couldn't wait for us at our meeting place."
"Yes, of course," Sabar said as he nodded hastily, as if chagrined to
have to be reminded. "When I asked her what I was to say to you, she told me
that she had put it all in a letter." Sabar opened the leather flap of the
pouch at his belt. "She said that when she realized how far away you really
were, she was distraught and couldn't take the time to journey to you. She
told me that it was important for me to be sure I found you and gave you her
letter. She said the letter would explain why she could not wait."
With one finger and a thumb, Sabar lifted out the letter, looking as if
he were handling a deadly viper instead of a small roll sealed with red wax.
"Nicci told me that this is dangerous," he explained, looking up into
Richard's eyes. "She said that if anyone but you opened it, I should not be
standing too close or I would die with them."
Sabar carefully laid the rolled letter on Richard's palm. It warmed
appreciably in his hand. The red wax brightened, as if lit by a ray of
sunlight even though it was getting dark. The glow spread from the wax to
envelop the whole length of the rolled letter. Fine cracks raced all across
the red wax, like autumn ice on a pond breaking up under the weight of a
foot placed on it. The wax suddenly shattered and crumbled away.
Sabar swallowed. "I hate to think of what would have happened had
anyone but you tried to open it."
Jennsen leaned in again. "Was that magic?"
"Must have been," Richard told her as he started to unroll the letter.
"But I saw it fall apart," she said in a confidential tone.
"Did you see anything else?"
"No, it just all of a sudden crumbled."
With a thumb and finger, Richard lifted some of the disintegrated wax
from his palm. "She probably put a web of magic around the letter and keyed
that spell to my touch. If anyone else had tried to break that web to open
the letter it would have ignited the spell. I guess that my touch unlocked
the seal. You saw the result of the magic--the broken seal--not the magic
itself."
"Oh, wait!" Sabar smacked his forehead with the flat of his palm. "What
am I thinking? I'm supposed to give you this, too."
Shrugging the straps off his shoulders and down his arms, he pulled his
pack around onto his lap. He quickly undid the leather thongs and reached
inside, then carefully lifted out something wrapped in black quilted
material. It was only about a foot tall but not very big around. By the way
Sabar handled it, it appeared to be somewhat heavy.
Sabar set the wrapped object on the ground, upright, in front of the
fire. "Nicci told me that I should give this to you, that the letter would
explain it."
Jennsen leaned in a little, fascinated by the mystery of the tightly
wrapped object. "What is it?"
Sabar shrugged. "Nicci didn't tell me." He made a face that suggested
he was somewhat uncomfortable with the way he was in the dark about much of
the mission he'd been sent on. "When Nicci looks at you and tells you to do
something, it goes out of your head to ask questions."
Richard smiled to himself as he began to unroll the letter. He knew all
too well what Sabar meant.
"Did Nicci say anything about who could unwrap that thing?"
"No, Lord Rahl. She just said to give it to you, that the letter would
explain it."
"If it had a web around it, like the letter, she would have warned
you." Richard looked up. "Cara," he said, gesturing at the bundled package
sitting before the fire, "why don't you unwrap it while Kahlan and I read
the letter."
As Cara sat cross-legged on the ground and started working on the knots
in the leather thongs around the black quilted wrap, Richard held the letter
sideways a bit so that Kahlan could read it silently along with him.
Dear Richard and Kahlan,
I am sorry that I cannot tell you everything right now that I would
have you know, but there are urgent matters I must see to and I dare not
delay. Jagang has initiated something I considered impossible. Through his
ability as a dream walker, he has forced Sisters of the Dark he controls to
attempt to create weapons out of people, as was done during the great war.
This is dangerous enough in itself, but because Jagang does not have the
gift, his understanding of such things is very crude. He is a blundering
bull trying to use his horns to knit lace. They are using the lives of
wizards as the fodder for his experiments. I don't yet know the exact extent
of their success, but I fear to discover the results. More of this in a
moment.
First, the object I sent. When 1 picked up your trail and began
tracking it to where we were to meet, I discovered this. I believe you have
already come across it because it has been touched by a principal involved
in the matter or involved with you.
The object is a warning beacon. It has been activated--not by this
touch, but by events. I cannot overstate the danger it represents.
Such objects could only be made by the wizards of ancient times; the
creation of such an object required both Additive and Subtractive Magic, and
required the gift of both to be innate. Even then, they are so rare that I
have never actually seen one.
I have, however, read about them down in the vaults at the Palace of
the Prophets. Such warning beacons are kept viable by a link to the dead
wizard who created them.
Richard sat back and let out a troubled breath. "How can such a link be
possible?" Kahlan asked.
He hardly had to read between the lines to be able to tell that Nicci
was warning him in the gravest possible terms.
"It has to be linked somehow to the underworld," Richard whispered
back.
Little points of firelight danced in her green eyes as she stared at
him.
Kahlan glanced again at Cara as she worked at the knots, pulling off
one of the leather thongs around an object linked to a dead wizard in the
underworld. Kahlan held up the edge of the letter as she urgently read along
with him.
From what I know of such warning beacons, they monitor powerful and
vital protective shields created to seal away something profoundly
dangerous. They are paired. The first beacon is always amber. It is meant to
be a warning to the one who caused the breach of the seal. The touch of a
principal or one involved with a principal kindles it so it may be
recognized for what it is and serve as it was intended--as a warning to
those involved. Only after alerting the one it is meant to warn can it be
destroyed. I send it to be absolutely certain you have seen it.
The precise nature of the second beacon is unknown to me, but that
beacon is meant for the one able to replace the seal.
I don't know the nature of the seal or what it was protecting. Without
doubt, though, the seal has been breached.
The source of the breach, while not the specific cause activating this
beacon, is self-evident.
"Oh, now wait a minute," Cara said, standing, backing away as if she
had released a deadly plague from the black quilting, "it isn't my fault
this time." She pointed down at it. "You told me to, this time."
The translucent statue Cara had touched before now stood in the center
of its unfolded black quilted wrapping.
It was the same statue: a statue of Kahlan.
The statue's left arm was pressed to its side, the right arm was
raised, pointing. The statue, in an hourglass shape, looked as if it were
made of transparent amber, allowing them to see inside.
Sand trickled out of the top half of the hourglass, through the
narrowed waist, into the bottom of the full dress of the Mother Confessor.
The sand was still trickling down, just as it had been the last time
Richard had seen the thing. At that time, the top half had been more full
than the bottom half. Now, the top held less sand than the bottom.
Kahlan's face had gone ashen.
When he'd first seen it, Richard wouldn't have needed Nicci to tell him
how dangerous such a thing was. He hadn't wanted any of them to touch it.
When they had first come across it, in a recess of rock beside the trail,
looking almost like part of the rock itself, the thing was opaque, with a
dull, dark surface, yet it was clearly recognizable as Kahlan. It was lying
on its side.
Cara wasn't pleased to find such a thing and didn't want to leave a
representation of Kahlan lying about for anyone to find and to pick up for
who-knew-what. Cara snatched it up, then, even though Richard started to
yell at her to leave such a thing be.
When she picked it up, it started turning translucent.
In a panic, Cara set it back down.
That was when the right arm had lifted and pointed east.
That was when they could begin to see through the thing, to see the
sand inside trickling down.
The implied danger of the sand running out had them all upset. Cara
wanted to pick it up again and turn it over, to stop the sand from falling.
Richard, not knowing anything about such an object and doubting that so
simple a solution would have any beneficial effect, hadn't allowed Cara to
touch it again. He had piled rocks and brush around it so no one else would
know it was there. Obviously, that hadn't worked.
He knew now that Cara's touch had nothing to do with what was
happening, except to initiate the warning, so he thought to confirm his
original belief. "Cara, put it down."
"Down?"
"On its side--like you wanted to do the last time--to see if that will
stop the sand."
Cara stared at him for a moment and then used the toe of her boot to
tip the figure over on its side.
The sand continued to run as if it still stood upright.
"How can the sand do that?" Jennsen asked, sounding quite shaken. "How
can the sand still fall--how can it fall sideways?"
"You can see it?" Kahlan asked. "You can see the sand falling?"
Jennsen nodded. "I sure can, and I have to tell you, it's giving my
goose bumps goose bumps."
Richard could only stare at her staring at the statue of Kahlan lying
on its side. If nothing else, the sand running sideways through the statue
had to be magic. Jennsen was a pillar of Creation, a hole in the world, a
pristinely ungifted offspring of Darken Rahl. She should not be able to see
magic.
And yet, she was seeing it.
"I have to agree with the young lady," Sabar said. "That's even more
frightening than those big black birds that I've seen circling for the last
week."
Kahlan straightened. "You been seeing--"
When he heard Tom's urgent warning yell, Richard rose up in a rush,
drawing his sword in one swift movement. The unique sound of ringing steel
filled the night air.
The magic did not come out with the sword.
KahIan ducked to the side, out of harm's way, as Richard pulled his
sword free. The distinctive ring of steel being drawn in anger fused with
Tom's warning yell still echoing through the surrounding hills to send a
flash of fright tingling across her flesh. As she stared out into the empty
blackness of the surrounding night, her instinct was to reach for her own
sword, but she had packed it in the wagon rather than wear it, so as not to
raise suspicions about who they might be--women in the Old World did not
carry weapons.
By the light of the fire, Kahlan could clearly see Richard's face. She
had seen him draw the Sword of Truth countless times and in a variety of
situations, from that very first time when Zedd, after giving him the sword,
commanded him to draw it and Richard tentatively pulled it from its
scabbard, to times he pulled it free in the heat of battle, to times like
this when he drew it suddenly in defense.
When Richard drew the sword, he was also drawing its attendant magic.
That was the function of the weapon; the magic had not been created simply
to defend the sword's true owner, but, more importantly, to be a projection
of his intent. The Sword of Truth was not even really a talisman, but rather
a tool, of the Seeker of Truth.
The true weapon was the rightly named Seeker who wielded the sword. The
sword's magic answered to him.
Each and every one of the times Richard had drawn the sword, Kahlan had
seen that magic dancing dangerously in his gray eyes.
This was the first time he had drawn the sword that she didn't see the
magic in his eyes; the raptor's glare was pure Richard.
While seeing him draw the sword without seeing its concomitant magic
evident in his eyes shocked her, it seemed to surprise Richard even more.
For an instant he hesitated, as if mentally stumbling.
Before they had time to even wonder what had prompted Tom's warning
yell, shadowy shapes slipping through the cover of the nearby trees suddenly
stormed out of the darkness and into their midst. The sudden sound and fury
of bloodcurdling cries filled the night air as men rampaged into the camp,
lit at last by firelight.
They didn't appear to be soldiers--they weren't wearing uniforms-- and
they weren't attacking as soldiers would, with weapons drawn. Kahlan didn't
see any of the men brandishing swords or axes or even knives.
Weapons or not, there were a lot of men and they yelled fierce battle
cries as if they intended nothing short of bloody murder. She knew, though,
that the sudden shock of deafening noise was a tactic designed to render the
intended target powerless with fright, making them easier to cut down. She
knew because she used such tactics herself.
Blade in hand, Richard was fully in his element; focused, resolute,
ruthlessly committed--even without his sword's attendant magic.
As assailants charged in, the sword, driven by Richard's own wrath,
flashed through the air, a flash of crimson light from the fire's flames
reflected along the blade's length, lending it a fleeting stain of red. In
that charged moment of attack met, there was a split second when Kahlan
feared that without the sword's magic, it all might go terribly wrong.
In an instant, the camp that had been so quietly tense became
pandemonium. Although the attackers weren't dressed like soldiers, they were
all big and as they swept in there was no doubt whatsoever as to their
hostile intent.
A man rushing onward threw his arms up to seize Richard before his
sword could be brought to bear. The sword's tip whistled as it came around,
driven by deadly commitment. The blade severed one of the man's raised arms
before exploding through his skull. The air above the fire filled with a
spray of blood, bone, and brain. Another man lunged. Richard's sword ripped
through his chest. In the space of two blinks, two men were dead.
The magic at last seemed to slam into Richard's eyes, as if finally
catching up with his intent.
Kahlan couldn't make sense of what the men were doing. They attacked
without weapons drawn, but they seemed no less fierce for it. Their speed,
numbers, and size, and the angry look of them, were enough to make most
anyone tremble in fright.
From the darkness, more men rushed in on them. Cara stepped into the
path of the attack, lashing out with her Agiel. Men cried out in horrifying
pain when her weapon made contact, causing hesitation among the attackers.
Sabar, knife to hand, tumbled to the ground with one of the men who had
seized him from behind. Jennsen ducked away from another man snatching for
her hair. As she spun away from him, she slashed his face with her knife.
His cries joined a strident chorus of others.
Kahlan realized that it wasn't just men yelling, but the horses were
also screaming in fright. Cara's Agiel against a bull neck brought a
terrifying shriek. Men yelled with effort and shouted orders that were cut
off abruptly as Richard's sword tore through them. All the yelling seemed
directed at the task of overwhelming the four of them.
Kahlan understood, then, what was going on. This was not an attempt to
kill, but to capture. For these men, killing would be a great mercy compared
to what they intended.
Two of the burly men dove across the fire, arms spread wide as if to
tackle Richard and Kahlan. Cara reached out and seized a fistful of shirt,
abruptly spinning one of the two around. She drove her Agiel into his gut,
dropping him to his knees. The other man unexpectedly encountered Richard's
sword thrust straight in with formidable muscle driving it. The scream of
mortal pain was brief before the sword slashed his throat. Cara, standing
above the man on his knees, pressed her Agiel to his chest and gave it a
twist that dropped him instantly.
Already, Richard was leaping over the fire to penetrate into the brunt
of the attack. As his boots landed with a thud, his sword cut the man atop
Sabar nearly in two, spilling his viscera across the ground.
The man Jennsen had slashed rose up only to be met by her knife driven
by desperate fright. She jumped back as he tumbled forward, clutching the
base of his throat where she had severed his windpipe. Cara snagged the man
Jennsen didn't see going for her back. The Mord-Sith, her face a picture of
savage resolve, held her Agiel to his throat, following him to the ground as
he choked on his own blood.
Then, among the men Richard ripped into, Kahlan saw the knives coming
out. The men abandoned their failed attempt to bring him down by grabbing
and overpowering him, and decided, instead, to knife him. If anything, the
threat of the knives served only to further unleash Richard's fury. By the
look in his eyes, the sword's magic seemed to be fully engaged in the
battle.
For an instant, Kahlan stood transfixed by the sight of Richard so
ruthlessly committed to self-defense that the act of killing became a
graceful manifestation of art--a dance with death. Compared with Richard's
fluid movements, the men blundered like bulls. Without wasted motion,
Richard slipped among them as if they were statues, his sword delivering
unrestrained violence. Each thrust met a vital area of the enemy. Each swing
sliced through flesh and bone. Each turn met an attack and crushed it. There
was no lost opportunity, no slash that missed, no thrust gone wide, no
bobble that only slightly wounded. Each time he spun past the thrust of a
blade, met a rush, or turned to a new attack, he cut without mercy.
Kahlan was furious that she didn't have her sword. There was no telling
how many more men there were. She knew all too well what it was like to be
helpless and overwhelmed by a gang of men. She started edging toward the
wagon.
Jennsen and Sabar were both tackled by a burly man diving in out of the
darkness. As they hit the ground, the man landed atop them, knocking the
wind from them. His big hands pinned their wrists to the ground, keeping
their knives at bay.
Richard's blade swept past with lightning speed, slicing across the
man's back, severing his spine. Richard went to a knee as he turned,
whipping the sword around to impale another attacker rushing in at a dead
run, trying to get to Richard before he could recover. The look on the man's
face was a picture of horrified surprise as he ran instead onto Richard's
sword, running it into his own chest up to the hilt. The heavy man atop
Jennsen and Sabar convulsed, unable to draw a breath, as they threw him off.
Richard, still on one knee, yanked the sword free as the mortally wounded
man fell past him.
As another man rushed into camp, looking around, trying to get his
bearings, Cara slammed her Agiel against his neck. As he crumbled, she drove
her elbow up to smash the face of a man following the first in, trying to
grab her from behind while she was occupied. Crying out, his hands covered
crushed bone and gushing blood. She spun and kicked him between the legs. As
he fell forward, his hands going to his groin, she broke his jaw with her
knee, turned, and dropped a third man by slamming her Agiel to his chest.
Another attacker threw himself at Sabar, knocking him back. Sabar
lashed out with his knife, making solid contact. Another man saw the opening
and snatched up Nicci's letter lying on the ground. Kahlan dove for the
letter in his fist, but missed as he yanked his hand back before dashing
away. Jennsen blocked his escape. He straight-armed her as he charged past.
Jennsen was knocked reeling, but came around to bury her knife between his
shoulder blades.
Jennsen managed to keep hold of her knife, twisting it forcefully, as
the man arched his back with a gasp of pain and then a bellow of anger that
withered to a wet burble before it was fully out of his lungs. Jenn-sen's
knife had found his heart. He staggered, stumbled, and fell onto the fire.
The flames whooshed to life as his clothing ignited. Kahlan tried to snatch
the letter from his fist as he writhed in horrifying pain, but, with the
intensity of the heat, she couldn't get close enough.
It was already too late, though; the letter she and Richard had only
had a chance to partially read flared briefly before transforming to black
ash that disintegrated and lifted skyward in the roar of flames.
Kahlan covered her mouth and nose, gagging on the stench of burning
hair and flesh as she was driven back by the heat. Though it seemed like
hours of fighting, the assault had only just begun and already men lay dead
everywhere as yet more of the big men joined the attack.
As she recoiled from the flames and her futile attempt to recover the
lost letter, Kahlan turned again toward the wagon, toward her sword.
She looked up and saw a man who seemed as big as a mountain charging
right at her, blocking her way. He grinned at seeing that he had run down a
woman without a weapon.
Beyond the man, Kahlan saw Richard. Their eyes met. He had taken his
sword to the bulk of the attack, trying to cut it down before it could get
to the rest of them, trying to end it before harm could get to any of the
rest of them.
He couldn't be everywhere at once.
He wasn't close enough to get to her in time. That didn't stop him from
trying. Even as he did, Kahlan discounted the attempt. He was too far away.
The effort was futile.
Looking into the eyes of the man she loved more than life itself, she
saw his pure rage; she knew that Richard was seeing a face that showed
nothing: a Confessor's face, as her mother had taught her. And then the
racing enemy came between them, blocking their sight of one another.
Kahlan's vision focused on the man bearing down on her. His arms lifted
like a bear lost in a mad charge. His teeth were gritted with determination.
A grimace twisted his face in his wild effort to reach her before she could
dodge to the side, before she had a chance to escape.
She knew he was too close for her to have that chance and so she didn't
waste any effort in a useless attempt.
This one had made it past the killing. He had avoided Jennsen and
Sabar. He had figured his attack to skirt Richard's blade while making it
past Cara's Agiel as she turned to another man. He hadn't charged in madly
like the rest; he had delayed just enough to time his onslaught perfectly.
she would need the warning. He was sure that with her blind eyes she could
see better than anyone.
Following the wonderful aroma of ham stew, Zedd made his way to the
comfortable room lined with bookshelves they used most of the time. Adie had
hung spices to dry from the low beams carved with ancient designs. A leather
couch sat before a broad fireplace and comfortable chairs beside a
silver-inlaid table placed in front of a diamond-patterned leaded window
with a breathtaking view overlooking Aydindril.
The sun was setting, leaving the city below bathed in a warm light. It
almost looked like it always did, except there was no telltale smoke curling
up from cooking fires.
Zedd set his burlap sack loaded with his harvest on piles of books atop
a round mahogany table behind the couch. He shuffled closer to the fire, all
the while taking deep breaths to inhale the intoxicating aroma of the stew.
"Adie," he called, "this smells delightful! Have you looked outside
today? I saw the oddest birds."
He smiled as he inhaled another whiff.
"Adie--I think it must be done by now," he called toward the doorway to
the side pantry room. "I think we ought to taste it, at least. Can't hurt to
check, you know."
Zedd glanced back over his shoulder. "Adie? Are you listening to me?"
He went to the doorway and peered into the pantry, but it was empty.
"Adie?" he called down the stairs at the back of the pantry. "Are you
down there?"
Zedd's mouth twisted with discontentment when she didn't answer.
"Adie?" he called again. "Bags, woman, where are you?"
He turned back, peering at the stew bubbling in the kettle hung on the
crane over the fire. Zedd scooped up a long wooden spoon from a pantry
cupboard.
Spoon in hand, he stopped and leaned back toward the stairs. "Take your
time, Adie. I'll just be up here . .. reading."
Zedd grinned and hurried for the stew.
Richard rose up in a rush when he saw Cara marching up a ravine toward
camp, pushing ahead of her a man Richard vaguely recognized. In the failing
light, he couldn't make out the man's face. Richard scanned the surrounding
flat washes, rocky hills, and steep tree-covered slopes beyond, but didn't
see anyone else.
Friedrich was off to the south and Tom to the west, checking the
surrounding country, as Cara had been, to be sure there was no one about and
that it was a safe place to spend the night; they were exhausted from
picking a sinuous route through the increasingly rugged country. Cara had
been checking north--the direction they were headed and the direction
Richard considered potentially the most dangerous. Jennsen turned from the
animals, waiting to see who the Mord-Sith had with her.
Once on his feet, Richard wished he hadn't gotten up quite so
quickly--doing so made him light-headed. He couldn't seem to shake the odd,
disconnected sensation he felt, as if he were watching someone else react,
talk, move. When he concentrated, forcing himself to focus his attention,
the feeling would sometimes drift at least partly away and he would begin to
wonder if it was only his imagination.
Kahlan's hand slipped up on his arm, gripping him as if she thought he
might fall.
"Are you all right?" she whispered.
He nodded as he watched Cara and the man as he also kept an eye on the
surrounding countryside. By the end of their ride earlier that afternoon to
discuss the book, Kahlan had become even more worried about him. They were
both troubled about what he'd read, but Kahlan was far more concerned, at
the moment, anyway, about him.
Richard suspected that he might be coming down with a slight fever.
That would explain why he was feeling so cold when everyone else was hot.
From time to time, Kahlan would feel his forehead or place the back of her
hand against his cheek. Her touch warmed his heart; she ignored his smiles
as she fretted over him. She thought that he might be slightly feverish.
Once she had Jennsen feel his forehead to see if she thought he might be
warmer than he should be. Jennsen, too, thought that, if he did have a
fever, it was minor. Cara, so far, had been satisfied by Kahlan's report
that he didn't feel feverish, and hadn't deemed it necessary to see for
herself.
A fever was just about the last thing Richard needed. There were
important... important, something. He couldn't seem to recall at the moment.
He concentrated on trying to remember the young man's name, or at least
where he'd seen him before.
The last rays of the setting sun cast a pink glow across the mountains
to the east. The closer hills were dimming to a soft gray in the gathering
dusk. As darkness approached, the low fire was beginning to tint everything
close around it a warm yellow-orange. Richard had kept the cook fire small,
not wanting it to signal their location any more than necessary.
"Lord Rahl," the man said in a reverent tone as he stepped into camp.
He dipped his head forward in a hesitant bow, apparently not sure if it was
proper to bow or not. "It's an honor to see you again."
He was perhaps a couple of years younger than Richard, with curly black
hair that brushed the broad shoulders of his buckskin tunic. He wore a long
knife at his belt but no sword. His ears stuck out to the sides of his head
as if he were straining to listen to every little sound. Richard imagined
that as a boy he'd probably endured a lot of taunts about his ears, but now
that he was a man his ears made him look rather intent and serious. As
muscular as the man was, Richard doubted that he still had to contend with
taunts.
"I'm . .. I'm sorry, but I can't quite seem to recall..."
"Oh, no, you wouldn't remember me, Lord Rahl. I was only--"
"Sabar," Richard said as it came to him. "Sabar. You loaded the
furnaces in Priska's foundry, back in Altur'Rang."
Sabar beamed. "That's right. I can't believe you remember me."
Sabar had been one of the men at the foundry able to have work because
of the supplies Richard hauled to Priska when no one else could. Sabar had
understood how hard Priska worked just to keep his foundry alive under the
oppressive, endless, and contradictory mandates of the Order. Sabar had been
there the day the statue Richard carved had been unveiled; he had seen it
before it was destroyed. He had been there at the beginning of the
revolution in Altur'Rang, fighting close alongside Victor, Priska, and all
the others who had seized the moment when it was upon them. Sabar had fought
to help gain freedom for himself, his friends, and for his city.
That had been a day everything had changed.
Even though this man, like many others, had been a subject of the
Imperial Order--one of the enemy--he wanted to live his own life under just
laws, rather than under the dictates of despots who extinguished any hope of
bettering oneself under the crushing burden of the cruel illusion of a
greater good.
Richard noticed, then, that everyone was standing in tense
anticipation, as if they had expected this to be trouble.
Richard smiled at Cara. "It's all right. I know him."
"So he told me," Cara said. She put a hand on Sabar's shoulder and
pushed him down. "Have a seat."
"Yes," Richard said, glad to see that Cara had been fairly amiable
about it. "Sit down and tell us why you're here."
"Nicci sent me."
Richard rose again in a rush, Kahlan coming up right beside him.
"Nicci? We're on our way to meet her."
Sabar nodded, rising into a half crouch, seeming not to be sure if he
was supposed to stand, since Richard and Kahlan had, or stay seated
Cara hadn't sat down; she stood behind Sabar like an executioner. Cara
had been there when the revolution in Altur'Rang had started and might
remember Sabar, but that would make no difference. Cara trusted no one where
the safety of Richard and Kahlan was concerned.
Richard gestured for Sabar to remain seated. "Where is she," Richard
asked as he and Kahlan sat down again, sharing a seat on a bedroll. "Is she
coming soon?"
"Nicci said to tell you that she waited as long as she could, but there
have been some urgent developments and she could wait no longer."
Richard let out a disappointed sigh. "Some things came up for us, too."
Kahlan had been captured and taken to the Pillars of Creation as bait to
lure Richard into a trap. Rather than go into all that, he kept the story
short and to the point. "We were trying to get to Nicci, but needed to go
elsewhere. It was unavoidable."
Sabar nodded. "I was worried when she returned to us and said that you
had not shown up at your meeting place, but she told us that she was sure
you were busy taking care of something important and that was the reason you
had not come.
"Victor Cascella, the blacksmith, was very worried, too, when Nicci
told us this. He was thinking you would be returning with Nicci. He said
that other places he knows, places he and Priska have dealings with for
supplies and such, are on the verge of revolt. These people have heard about
Altur'Rang, how the Order has been overthrown there, and how people are
beginning to prosper. He said that he knows free men in these places who
struggle to survive under the oppression of the Order as we once did, and
they hunger to be free. They want Victor's help.
"Some of the Brothers in the Fellowship of Order who escaped from
Altur'Rang have gone to these other places to insure that such revolt does
not spread there. Their cruelty in punishing any they suspect of
insurrection is costing the lives of many people, both the innocent and
those valuable to the cause of overthrowing the Imperial Order.
"In order to insure their control of the gears of governance and to
ready the Order's defense against the spread of the revolt, Brothers of the
Order have gone to all the important cities, Surely, some of these priests
have also gone to report to Jagang the fall of Altur'Rang, of the loss of so
many officials in the fighting there, and of the deaths of Brothers Narev
and many of his close circle of disciples."
"Jagang already knows of the death of Brother Narev," Jennsen said,
offering him a cup of water.
Sabar smiled his satisfaction at her news. He thanked her for the
water, then leaned forward toward Richard and Kahlan as he went on with his
story.
"Priska thinks the Order will want to sweep away the success of the
revolt in Altur'Rang--that they can't afford to let it stand. He said that
instead of worrying about spreading the revolt, we must prepare, make
defenses, and have every man stand ready because the Order will return with
the intent of slaughtering every last person in Altur'Rang."
Sabar hesitated, clearly worried about Priska's warning. "Victor,
though, said we should hammer the iron while it is hot and create a just and
secure future for ourselves, rather than wait for the Order to gather their
strength to deny us that future. He says that if the revolt is spreading
everywhere, the Order will not so easily stamp it out."
Richard ran a weary hand across his face. "Victor is right. If those in
Altur'Rang try to sit alone as a singular place of freedom in the heart of
hostile enemy territory, the Order will sweep in and cut out that heart. The
Order can't survive on its perverted ideals and they know it; that's why
they must use force to sustain their beliefs. Without that bully of force,
the Order will crumble.
"Jagang spent twenty years creating a system of roads to knit a diverse
and fractured Old World together into the Imperial Order. That was but part
of the means of how he succeeded. Many resisted the rantings of his priests.
With roads to swiftly respond to any dissent, though, Jagang was able to
react quickly, to sweep in and kill those who openly opposed his new Order.
"More importantly, after eliminating those who resisted the Order's
teachings, he filled the minds of children, who didn't know any better, with
blind faith in those teachings, turning them into zealots eager to die for
what they were taught was a noble cause--sacrifice to some all-consuming
greater good.
"Those young men, their minds twisted with the teachings of the Order,
are now off to the north conquering the New World, butchering any who will
not take up their altruistic tenets.
"But while Jagang and that vast army are to the north, that strength
there leaves the Order weak here. That weakness is our opportunity and we
must capitalize on it. Now, while Jagang and his men are absent, those same
roads he built down here will be our means of rapidly spreading the struggle
for freedom far and wide.
"The torch of freedom has been lit by the will of those like you, those
in Altur'Rang who seized liberty for themselves. The flames of that torch
must be held high, giving others the chance to see its light. If hidden and
insulated, such flames will be extinguished by the Order. There may never be
another chance in our lifetimes, or our children's lifetimes, to seize
control of our own lives. That torch must be carried to other places."
Sabar smiled, filled with quiet pride that he had been a part of it all
coming to be. "I know that Victor would like for others, like Priska, to be
reminded of such things, of what the Lord Rahl would say about what we must
do. Victor wants to talk to you before he goes to these places to 'pump the
bellows,' as he put it. Victor said that he awaits your word on how you
would move next, on how best to 'put the white-hot iron to them'--again, his
words."
"So Nicci sent you to find me."
"Yes. I was happy to go to you when she asked me. Victor will be happy,
too, not only that you are well but to hear what the Lord Rahl would say to
him."
While Victor was awaiting word, Richard also knew that absent such
word, Victor would act. The revolution did not revolve around Richard--it
couldn't to be successful--but around the hunger of people to have their
lives back. Still, Richard needed to help coordinate the spreading revolt in
order to be sure it was as effective as possible, not just at bringing
freedom to those who sought it, but at crumbling the foundation of the Order
in the Old World. Only if they were successful in toppling the rule of the
Order in the Old World would Jagang's attention--and many of his men--be
pulled away from conquering the New World.
Jagang intended to conquer the New World by first dividing it. Richard
had to do the same if he was to succeed. Only dividing the Order's forces
could defeat it.
Richard knew that with everyone evacuated from Aydindril, the Imperial
Order would now turn its swords on D'Hara. Despite the competence of the
D'Haran troops, they would be overwhelmed by the numbers that Jagang would
throw at them. If the Order was not diverted from its cause, or at least
divided into smaller forces, D'Hara would fall under the shadow of the
Order. The D'Haran Empire, forged to unite the New World against tyranny,
would end before it had really gotten started.
Richard had to get back to Victor and Nicci so that they could all
continue what they had begun--devising the most effective strategy to
overthrow the Imperial Order.
But they were running out of time to resolve another problem, a problem
they didn't yet understand.
"I'm glad you found us, Sabar. You can tell Victor and Nicci that we
need to see to something first, but as soon as we do, we'll be able to help
them with their plans."
Sabar looked relieved. "Everyone will be happy to hear this."
Sabar hesitated, then tilted his head, gesturing north. "Lord Rahl,
when I came to find you, following the directions Nicci gave me, I went past
the area where she was to meet with you, and then I continued coming south."
Worry stole into his expression. "Not many days ago, I came to a place,
miles wide, that was dead."
Richard looked up. He realized that his headache seemed to be suddenly
gone. "What do you mean, dead?"
Sabar waved his hand out toward the evening gloom. "The area where I
was traveling was much like this place; there were some trees, clumps of
grass, thickets of brush." His voice lowered. "But then I came to a place
where everything that grew ended. All at the same place. There was nothing
but rock beyond. Nicci had not told me that I would come to such a place. I
admit, I was afraid."
Richard glanced to his right--to the east--to the mountains that lay
beyond. "How long did this dead place last?"
"I walked, leaving life behind, and I thought I might be walking into
the underworld itself." Sabar looked away from Richard's eyes. "Or into the
jaws of some new weapon the Order had created to destroy us all.
"I came to be very afraid and I was going to turn back. But then I
thought about how the Order made me afraid my whole life, and I didn't like
that feeling. Worse, I thought about how I would stand before Nicci and tell
her I turned around rather than go to Lord Rahl as she asked of me, and that
thought made me ashamed, so I went on. In several miles I came again to
growing things." He let out a breath. "I was greatly relieved, and then I
felt a little foolish that I had been afraid."
Two. That now made two of the strange boundaries.
"I've been to places like that, Sabar, and I can tell you that I, too,
have been afraid."
Sabar broke into a grin. "Then I was not so foolish to be afraid."
"Not foolish at all. Could you tell if this dead area was extensive?
Could you tell if it was more than just a patch of open rock in that one
place? Could you see if it ran in a line, ran in any direction in
particular?"
"It was like you say, like a line." Sabar flicked his hand toward the
east. "It came down out of the far mountains, north of that depression." He
held his hand flat like a cleaver, and sliced it downward in the other
direction. "It ran off to the southwest, into that wasteland."
Toward the Pillars of Creation.
Kahlan leaned close and spoke under her breath. "That would be almost
parallel to the boundary we crossed not far back to the south. Why would
there be two boundaries so close together? That makes no sense."
"I don't know," Richard whispered to her. "Maybe whatever the boundary
was protecting was so dangerous that whoever placed it feared that one might
not be enough."
Kahlan rubbed her upper arms but didn't comment. By the look on her
face, Richard knew how she felt about such a notion--especially considering
that those boundaries were now down.
"Anyway," Sabar said with a self-conscious shrug, "I was happy I did
not turn back, or I would have had to face Nicci after she had asked me to
help Lord Rahl--my friend Richard."
Richard smiled. "I'm glad, too, Sabar. I don't think that place you
went through is a danger any longer, at least not a danger the way it was
once."
Jennsen could contain her curiosity no longer. "Who is this Nicci?"
"Nicci is a sorceress," Richard said. "She used to be a Sister of the
Dark."
Jennsen's eyebrows went up. "Used to?"
Richard nodded. "She worked to further Jagang's cause, but she finally
came to see how wrong she had been and joined our side." It was a story he
didn't really feel like going into. "She now fights for us. Her help has
been invaluable."
Jennsen leaned in, even more astonished. "But can you trust someone
like that, someone who had labored on behalf of Jagang? Worse, a Sister of
the Dark? Richard, I've been with some of those women, I know how ruthless
they are. They may have to do as Jagang makes them, but they're devoted to
the Keeper of the underworld. Do you really think you can trust with your
life that she will not betray you?"
Richard looked Jennsen in the eye. "I trust you with a knife while I
sleep."
Jennsen sat back up. She smiled, more out of embarrassment than
anything else, Richard thought. "I guess I see your point."
"What else did Nicci say," Kahlan asked, keen to get back to the matter
at hand.
"Only that I must go in her place and meet you," Sabar said.
Richard knew that Nicci was being cautious. She didn't want to tell the
young man too much in case he was caught.
"How did she know where I was?"
"She said that she was able to tell where you were by magic. Nicci is
as powerful with magic as she is beautiful."
Sabar said this in a tone of awe. He didn't know the half of it. Nicci
was one of the most powerful sorceresses ever to have lived. Sabar didn't
know that when Nicci was laboring toward the ends sought by the Order, she
was known as Death's Mistress.
Richard surmised that Nicci had somehow used the bond to the Lord Rahl
to find him. That bond was loyalty sworn in the heart, not by rote, and its
power protected those so sworn from the dream walker entering their minds.
Full-blooded D'Harans, like Cara, could tell through the bond where the Lord
Rahl was. Kahlan had confided to him that she found it unnerving the way
Cara always knew where Richard was. Nicci wasn't D'Haran, but she was a
sorceress and she was bonded to Richard, so she might have been able to
manipulate that bond to tell where he was.
"Sabar, Nicci must have sent you to us for a reason," Richard said,
"other than to say that she couldn't wait for us at our meeting place."
"Yes, of course," Sabar said as he nodded hastily, as if chagrined to
have to be reminded. "When I asked her what I was to say to you, she told me
that she had put it all in a letter." Sabar opened the leather flap of the
pouch at his belt. "She said that when she realized how far away you really
were, she was distraught and couldn't take the time to journey to you. She
told me that it was important for me to be sure I found you and gave you her
letter. She said the letter would explain why she could not wait."
With one finger and a thumb, Sabar lifted out the letter, looking as if
he were handling a deadly viper instead of a small roll sealed with red wax.
"Nicci told me that this is dangerous," he explained, looking up into
Richard's eyes. "She said that if anyone but you opened it, I should not be
standing too close or I would die with them."
Sabar carefully laid the rolled letter on Richard's palm. It warmed
appreciably in his hand. The red wax brightened, as if lit by a ray of
sunlight even though it was getting dark. The glow spread from the wax to
envelop the whole length of the rolled letter. Fine cracks raced all across
the red wax, like autumn ice on a pond breaking up under the weight of a
foot placed on it. The wax suddenly shattered and crumbled away.
Sabar swallowed. "I hate to think of what would have happened had
anyone but you tried to open it."
Jennsen leaned in again. "Was that magic?"
"Must have been," Richard told her as he started to unroll the letter.
"But I saw it fall apart," she said in a confidential tone.
"Did you see anything else?"
"No, it just all of a sudden crumbled."
With a thumb and finger, Richard lifted some of the disintegrated wax
from his palm. "She probably put a web of magic around the letter and keyed
that spell to my touch. If anyone else had tried to break that web to open
the letter it would have ignited the spell. I guess that my touch unlocked
the seal. You saw the result of the magic--the broken seal--not the magic
itself."
"Oh, wait!" Sabar smacked his forehead with the flat of his palm. "What
am I thinking? I'm supposed to give you this, too."
Shrugging the straps off his shoulders and down his arms, he pulled his
pack around onto his lap. He quickly undid the leather thongs and reached
inside, then carefully lifted out something wrapped in black quilted
material. It was only about a foot tall but not very big around. By the way
Sabar handled it, it appeared to be somewhat heavy.
Sabar set the wrapped object on the ground, upright, in front of the
fire. "Nicci told me that I should give this to you, that the letter would
explain it."
Jennsen leaned in a little, fascinated by the mystery of the tightly
wrapped object. "What is it?"
Sabar shrugged. "Nicci didn't tell me." He made a face that suggested
he was somewhat uncomfortable with the way he was in the dark about much of
the mission he'd been sent on. "When Nicci looks at you and tells you to do
something, it goes out of your head to ask questions."
Richard smiled to himself as he began to unroll the letter. He knew all
too well what Sabar meant.
"Did Nicci say anything about who could unwrap that thing?"
"No, Lord Rahl. She just said to give it to you, that the letter would
explain it."
"If it had a web around it, like the letter, she would have warned
you." Richard looked up. "Cara," he said, gesturing at the bundled package
sitting before the fire, "why don't you unwrap it while Kahlan and I read
the letter."
As Cara sat cross-legged on the ground and started working on the knots
in the leather thongs around the black quilted wrap, Richard held the letter
sideways a bit so that Kahlan could read it silently along with him.
Dear Richard and Kahlan,
I am sorry that I cannot tell you everything right now that I would
have you know, but there are urgent matters I must see to and I dare not
delay. Jagang has initiated something I considered impossible. Through his
ability as a dream walker, he has forced Sisters of the Dark he controls to
attempt to create weapons out of people, as was done during the great war.
This is dangerous enough in itself, but because Jagang does not have the
gift, his understanding of such things is very crude. He is a blundering
bull trying to use his horns to knit lace. They are using the lives of
wizards as the fodder for his experiments. I don't yet know the exact extent
of their success, but I fear to discover the results. More of this in a
moment.
First, the object I sent. When 1 picked up your trail and began
tracking it to where we were to meet, I discovered this. I believe you have
already come across it because it has been touched by a principal involved
in the matter or involved with you.
The object is a warning beacon. It has been activated--not by this
touch, but by events. I cannot overstate the danger it represents.
Such objects could only be made by the wizards of ancient times; the
creation of such an object required both Additive and Subtractive Magic, and
required the gift of both to be innate. Even then, they are so rare that I
have never actually seen one.
I have, however, read about them down in the vaults at the Palace of
the Prophets. Such warning beacons are kept viable by a link to the dead
wizard who created them.
Richard sat back and let out a troubled breath. "How can such a link be
possible?" Kahlan asked.
He hardly had to read between the lines to be able to tell that Nicci
was warning him in the gravest possible terms.
"It has to be linked somehow to the underworld," Richard whispered
back.
Little points of firelight danced in her green eyes as she stared at
him.
Kahlan glanced again at Cara as she worked at the knots, pulling off
one of the leather thongs around an object linked to a dead wizard in the
underworld. Kahlan held up the edge of the letter as she urgently read along
with him.
From what I know of such warning beacons, they monitor powerful and
vital protective shields created to seal away something profoundly
dangerous. They are paired. The first beacon is always amber. It is meant to
be a warning to the one who caused the breach of the seal. The touch of a
principal or one involved with a principal kindles it so it may be
recognized for what it is and serve as it was intended--as a warning to
those involved. Only after alerting the one it is meant to warn can it be
destroyed. I send it to be absolutely certain you have seen it.
The precise nature of the second beacon is unknown to me, but that
beacon is meant for the one able to replace the seal.
I don't know the nature of the seal or what it was protecting. Without
doubt, though, the seal has been breached.
The source of the breach, while not the specific cause activating this
beacon, is self-evident.
"Oh, now wait a minute," Cara said, standing, backing away as if she
had released a deadly plague from the black quilting, "it isn't my fault
this time." She pointed down at it. "You told me to, this time."
The translucent statue Cara had touched before now stood in the center
of its unfolded black quilted wrapping.
It was the same statue: a statue of Kahlan.
The statue's left arm was pressed to its side, the right arm was
raised, pointing. The statue, in an hourglass shape, looked as if it were
made of transparent amber, allowing them to see inside.
Sand trickled out of the top half of the hourglass, through the
narrowed waist, into the bottom of the full dress of the Mother Confessor.
The sand was still trickling down, just as it had been the last time
Richard had seen the thing. At that time, the top half had been more full
than the bottom half. Now, the top held less sand than the bottom.
Kahlan's face had gone ashen.
When he'd first seen it, Richard wouldn't have needed Nicci to tell him
how dangerous such a thing was. He hadn't wanted any of them to touch it.
When they had first come across it, in a recess of rock beside the trail,
looking almost like part of the rock itself, the thing was opaque, with a
dull, dark surface, yet it was clearly recognizable as Kahlan. It was lying
on its side.
Cara wasn't pleased to find such a thing and didn't want to leave a
representation of Kahlan lying about for anyone to find and to pick up for
who-knew-what. Cara snatched it up, then, even though Richard started to
yell at her to leave such a thing be.
When she picked it up, it started turning translucent.
In a panic, Cara set it back down.
That was when the right arm had lifted and pointed east.
That was when they could begin to see through the thing, to see the
sand inside trickling down.
The implied danger of the sand running out had them all upset. Cara
wanted to pick it up again and turn it over, to stop the sand from falling.
Richard, not knowing anything about such an object and doubting that so
simple a solution would have any beneficial effect, hadn't allowed Cara to
touch it again. He had piled rocks and brush around it so no one else would
know it was there. Obviously, that hadn't worked.
He knew now that Cara's touch had nothing to do with what was
happening, except to initiate the warning, so he thought to confirm his
original belief. "Cara, put it down."
"Down?"
"On its side--like you wanted to do the last time--to see if that will
stop the sand."
Cara stared at him for a moment and then used the toe of her boot to
tip the figure over on its side.
The sand continued to run as if it still stood upright.
"How can the sand do that?" Jennsen asked, sounding quite shaken. "How
can the sand still fall--how can it fall sideways?"
"You can see it?" Kahlan asked. "You can see the sand falling?"
Jennsen nodded. "I sure can, and I have to tell you, it's giving my
goose bumps goose bumps."
Richard could only stare at her staring at the statue of Kahlan lying
on its side. If nothing else, the sand running sideways through the statue
had to be magic. Jennsen was a pillar of Creation, a hole in the world, a
pristinely ungifted offspring of Darken Rahl. She should not be able to see
magic.
And yet, she was seeing it.
"I have to agree with the young lady," Sabar said. "That's even more
frightening than those big black birds that I've seen circling for the last
week."
Kahlan straightened. "You been seeing--"
When he heard Tom's urgent warning yell, Richard rose up in a rush,
drawing his sword in one swift movement. The unique sound of ringing steel
filled the night air.
The magic did not come out with the sword.
KahIan ducked to the side, out of harm's way, as Richard pulled his
sword free. The distinctive ring of steel being drawn in anger fused with
Tom's warning yell still echoing through the surrounding hills to send a
flash of fright tingling across her flesh. As she stared out into the empty
blackness of the surrounding night, her instinct was to reach for her own
sword, but she had packed it in the wagon rather than wear it, so as not to
raise suspicions about who they might be--women in the Old World did not
carry weapons.
By the light of the fire, Kahlan could clearly see Richard's face. She
had seen him draw the Sword of Truth countless times and in a variety of
situations, from that very first time when Zedd, after giving him the sword,
commanded him to draw it and Richard tentatively pulled it from its
scabbard, to times he pulled it free in the heat of battle, to times like
this when he drew it suddenly in defense.
When Richard drew the sword, he was also drawing its attendant magic.
That was the function of the weapon; the magic had not been created simply
to defend the sword's true owner, but, more importantly, to be a projection
of his intent. The Sword of Truth was not even really a talisman, but rather
a tool, of the Seeker of Truth.
The true weapon was the rightly named Seeker who wielded the sword. The
sword's magic answered to him.
Each and every one of the times Richard had drawn the sword, Kahlan had
seen that magic dancing dangerously in his gray eyes.
This was the first time he had drawn the sword that she didn't see the
magic in his eyes; the raptor's glare was pure Richard.
While seeing him draw the sword without seeing its concomitant magic
evident in his eyes shocked her, it seemed to surprise Richard even more.
For an instant he hesitated, as if mentally stumbling.
Before they had time to even wonder what had prompted Tom's warning
yell, shadowy shapes slipping through the cover of the nearby trees suddenly
stormed out of the darkness and into their midst. The sudden sound and fury
of bloodcurdling cries filled the night air as men rampaged into the camp,
lit at last by firelight.
They didn't appear to be soldiers--they weren't wearing uniforms-- and
they weren't attacking as soldiers would, with weapons drawn. Kahlan didn't
see any of the men brandishing swords or axes or even knives.
Weapons or not, there were a lot of men and they yelled fierce battle
cries as if they intended nothing short of bloody murder. She knew, though,
that the sudden shock of deafening noise was a tactic designed to render the
intended target powerless with fright, making them easier to cut down. She
knew because she used such tactics herself.
Blade in hand, Richard was fully in his element; focused, resolute,
ruthlessly committed--even without his sword's attendant magic.
As assailants charged in, the sword, driven by Richard's own wrath,
flashed through the air, a flash of crimson light from the fire's flames
reflected along the blade's length, lending it a fleeting stain of red. In
that charged moment of attack met, there was a split second when Kahlan
feared that without the sword's magic, it all might go terribly wrong.
In an instant, the camp that had been so quietly tense became
pandemonium. Although the attackers weren't dressed like soldiers, they were
all big and as they swept in there was no doubt whatsoever as to their
hostile intent.
A man rushing onward threw his arms up to seize Richard before his
sword could be brought to bear. The sword's tip whistled as it came around,
driven by deadly commitment. The blade severed one of the man's raised arms
before exploding through his skull. The air above the fire filled with a
spray of blood, bone, and brain. Another man lunged. Richard's sword ripped
through his chest. In the space of two blinks, two men were dead.
The magic at last seemed to slam into Richard's eyes, as if finally
catching up with his intent.
Kahlan couldn't make sense of what the men were doing. They attacked
without weapons drawn, but they seemed no less fierce for it. Their speed,
numbers, and size, and the angry look of them, were enough to make most
anyone tremble in fright.
From the darkness, more men rushed in on them. Cara stepped into the
path of the attack, lashing out with her Agiel. Men cried out in horrifying
pain when her weapon made contact, causing hesitation among the attackers.
Sabar, knife to hand, tumbled to the ground with one of the men who had
seized him from behind. Jennsen ducked away from another man snatching for
her hair. As she spun away from him, she slashed his face with her knife.
His cries joined a strident chorus of others.
Kahlan realized that it wasn't just men yelling, but the horses were
also screaming in fright. Cara's Agiel against a bull neck brought a
terrifying shriek. Men yelled with effort and shouted orders that were cut
off abruptly as Richard's sword tore through them. All the yelling seemed
directed at the task of overwhelming the four of them.
Kahlan understood, then, what was going on. This was not an attempt to
kill, but to capture. For these men, killing would be a great mercy compared
to what they intended.
Two of the burly men dove across the fire, arms spread wide as if to
tackle Richard and Kahlan. Cara reached out and seized a fistful of shirt,
abruptly spinning one of the two around. She drove her Agiel into his gut,
dropping him to his knees. The other man unexpectedly encountered Richard's
sword thrust straight in with formidable muscle driving it. The scream of
mortal pain was brief before the sword slashed his throat. Cara, standing
above the man on his knees, pressed her Agiel to his chest and gave it a
twist that dropped him instantly.
Already, Richard was leaping over the fire to penetrate into the brunt
of the attack. As his boots landed with a thud, his sword cut the man atop
Sabar nearly in two, spilling his viscera across the ground.
The man Jennsen had slashed rose up only to be met by her knife driven
by desperate fright. She jumped back as he tumbled forward, clutching the
base of his throat where she had severed his windpipe. Cara snagged the man
Jennsen didn't see going for her back. The Mord-Sith, her face a picture of
savage resolve, held her Agiel to his throat, following him to the ground as
he choked on his own blood.
Then, among the men Richard ripped into, Kahlan saw the knives coming
out. The men abandoned their failed attempt to bring him down by grabbing
and overpowering him, and decided, instead, to knife him. If anything, the
threat of the knives served only to further unleash Richard's fury. By the
look in his eyes, the sword's magic seemed to be fully engaged in the
battle.
For an instant, Kahlan stood transfixed by the sight of Richard so
ruthlessly committed to self-defense that the act of killing became a
graceful manifestation of art--a dance with death. Compared with Richard's
fluid movements, the men blundered like bulls. Without wasted motion,
Richard slipped among them as if they were statues, his sword delivering
unrestrained violence. Each thrust met a vital area of the enemy. Each swing
sliced through flesh and bone. Each turn met an attack and crushed it. There
was no lost opportunity, no slash that missed, no thrust gone wide, no
bobble that only slightly wounded. Each time he spun past the thrust of a
blade, met a rush, or turned to a new attack, he cut without mercy.
Kahlan was furious that she didn't have her sword. There was no telling
how many more men there were. She knew all too well what it was like to be
helpless and overwhelmed by a gang of men. She started edging toward the
wagon.
Jennsen and Sabar were both tackled by a burly man diving in out of the
darkness. As they hit the ground, the man landed atop them, knocking the
wind from them. His big hands pinned their wrists to the ground, keeping
their knives at bay.
Richard's blade swept past with lightning speed, slicing across the
man's back, severing his spine. Richard went to a knee as he turned,
whipping the sword around to impale another attacker rushing in at a dead
run, trying to get to Richard before he could recover. The look on the man's
face was a picture of horrified surprise as he ran instead onto Richard's
sword, running it into his own chest up to the hilt. The heavy man atop
Jennsen and Sabar convulsed, unable to draw a breath, as they threw him off.
Richard, still on one knee, yanked the sword free as the mortally wounded
man fell past him.
As another man rushed into camp, looking around, trying to get his
bearings, Cara slammed her Agiel against his neck. As he crumbled, she drove
her elbow up to smash the face of a man following the first in, trying to
grab her from behind while she was occupied. Crying out, his hands covered
crushed bone and gushing blood. She spun and kicked him between the legs. As
he fell forward, his hands going to his groin, she broke his jaw with her
knee, turned, and dropped a third man by slamming her Agiel to his chest.
Another attacker threw himself at Sabar, knocking him back. Sabar
lashed out with his knife, making solid contact. Another man saw the opening
and snatched up Nicci's letter lying on the ground. Kahlan dove for the
letter in his fist, but missed as he yanked his hand back before dashing
away. Jennsen blocked his escape. He straight-armed her as he charged past.
Jennsen was knocked reeling, but came around to bury her knife between his
shoulder blades.
Jennsen managed to keep hold of her knife, twisting it forcefully, as
the man arched his back with a gasp of pain and then a bellow of anger that
withered to a wet burble before it was fully out of his lungs. Jenn-sen's
knife had found his heart. He staggered, stumbled, and fell onto the fire.
The flames whooshed to life as his clothing ignited. Kahlan tried to snatch
the letter from his fist as he writhed in horrifying pain, but, with the
intensity of the heat, she couldn't get close enough.
It was already too late, though; the letter she and Richard had only
had a chance to partially read flared briefly before transforming to black
ash that disintegrated and lifted skyward in the roar of flames.
Kahlan covered her mouth and nose, gagging on the stench of burning
hair and flesh as she was driven back by the heat. Though it seemed like
hours of fighting, the assault had only just begun and already men lay dead
everywhere as yet more of the big men joined the attack.
As she recoiled from the flames and her futile attempt to recover the
lost letter, Kahlan turned again toward the wagon, toward her sword.
She looked up and saw a man who seemed as big as a mountain charging
right at her, blocking her way. He grinned at seeing that he had run down a
woman without a weapon.
Beyond the man, Kahlan saw Richard. Their eyes met. He had taken his
sword to the bulk of the attack, trying to cut it down before it could get
to the rest of them, trying to end it before harm could get to any of the
rest of them.
He couldn't be everywhere at once.
He wasn't close enough to get to her in time. That didn't stop him from
trying. Even as he did, Kahlan discounted the attempt. He was too far away.
The effort was futile.
Looking into the eyes of the man she loved more than life itself, she
saw his pure rage; she knew that Richard was seeing a face that showed
nothing: a Confessor's face, as her mother had taught her. And then the
racing enemy came between them, blocking their sight of one another.
Kahlan's vision focused on the man bearing down on her. His arms lifted
like a bear lost in a mad charge. His teeth were gritted with determination.
A grimace twisted his face in his wild effort to reach her before she could
dodge to the side, before she had a chance to escape.
She knew he was too close for her to have that chance and so she didn't
waste any effort in a useless attempt.
This one had made it past the killing. He had avoided Jennsen and
Sabar. He had figured his attack to skirt Richard's blade while making it
past Cara's Agiel as she turned to another man. He hadn't charged in madly
like the rest; he had delayed just enough to time his onslaught perfectly.