The Third Kingdom
The Third Kingdom
Terry Goodkind
From the internationally bestselling author of the Sword of Truth series, comes a new Richard and Kahlan novel, sequel to The Omen Machine.The bloodthirsty Jit is dead, and against all odds Richard and Kahlan have survived. But a new menace has attacked them in the Dark Lands. Infected with the essence of death itself, robbed of his power as a war wizard, Richard must race against time to uncover and stop the infernal conspiracy assembling itself behind the wall far to the north. His friends and allies are already captives of this fell combination, and Kahlan, also touched by death's power, will die completely ifRichard fails.Bereft of magic, Richard has only his sword, his wits, his capacity for insight – and an extraordinary companion, the young Samantha, a healer just coming into her powers.Compelling, fast-moving, and intense, The Third Kingdom is a powerful tale that welcomes new readers to Terry Goodkind's world, while opening up new vistas of worldbuilding for longtime readers of the adventures of Richard Rahl and Kahlan Amnell.
THE THIRD KINGDOM
Terry Goodkind
Copyright (#ulink_a6b7b7ae-2b4f-5b23-be4e-6c8622a5ef4e)
HarperVoyager an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2013
Copyright © Terry Goodkind 2013
Jacket art and design © Rob Anderson at Revel Studios 2013
Terry Goodkind asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007303717
Ebook Edition © August 2013 ISBN: 9780007493760
Version: 2016-08-31
Contents
Cover (#u09868720-a998-5fac-ab8e-e46dd1c365b8)
Title Page (#u71c1ac0a-852d-5f9c-ac85-cf5d374d765b)
Copyright (#ucefa9e12-3f1a-5c3f-b935-fa71adbb19ba)
Chapter 1 (#u1a629497-0e78-511e-bdb6-131003828828)
Chapter 2 (#ue98f0c7b-e971-5e5c-b267-977d6698aa82)
Chapter 3 (#u8192650b-31c0-5b5e-9483-fbf8b5ea15c4)
Chapter 4 (#u21b5e654-e837-524d-93a1-1ed750fae648)
Chapter 5 (#uf1a012b1-6059-5e4e-823a-5ee568cccfba)
Chapter 6 (#u5315e43f-c8e4-5787-8168-9c14adb82c40)
Chapter 7 (#u5fdc4803-48c8-5d6b-9b1c-27281a026509)
Chapter 8 (#ua5ca60c0-1d82-5709-9956-ace4ac1c20f7)
Chapter 9 (#u5a363ac4-188c-5159-b251-779f2af31bbc)
Chapter 10 (#u0c82c784-fa66-5b37-a400-cf4878ca72fd)
Chapter 11 (#u9c814479-26e7-5b3d-96e7-579a0cdbb0bd)
Chapter 12 (#u1fbbc0b9-6a35-5d98-8fcc-7b9eddf5e280)
Chapter 13 (#udc34c04e-6f8f-5c6d-98d7-071df6428ab6)
Chapter 14 (#u7865aabb-5313-528a-be1f-0778208333b5)
Chapter 15 (#uce8e83e8-841a-59bd-886c-93469c7bdc99)
Chapter 16 (#u48def74b-c515-50d8-bd34-8db9d7071a4f)
Chapter 17 (#ue26038a8-d21c-50f8-8928-2cdaf3dd79c0)
Chapter 18 (#u403ee03c-d011-511a-b18b-57ec4c43be7a)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 47 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 48 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 49 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 50 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 51 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 52 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 53 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 54 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 55 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 56 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 57 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 58 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 59 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 60 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 61 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 62 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 63 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 64 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 65 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 66 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 67 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 68 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 69 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 70 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 71 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 72 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 73 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 74 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 75 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 76 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 77 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 78 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 79 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 80 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 81 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 82 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 83 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 84 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 85 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 86 (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Terry Goodkind (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER (#ulink_09f76478-013b-50d0-a6c1-ad103ffa14d8)
1 (#ulink_09f76478-013b-50d0-a6c1-ad103ffa14d8)
We should eat them now, before they die and go bad,” a gruff voice said.
Richard was only distantly aware of the low buzz of voices. Still only half conscious, he wasn’t able to figure out who was talking, much less make sense of what they were talking about, but he was aware enough to be disturbed by their predatory tone.
“I think we should trade them,” a second man said as he tightened the knot in the rope he had looped around Richard’s ankles.
“Trade them?” the first asked in a heated voice. “Look at the bloody blankets they were wrapped in and the blood all over the floor of the wagon. They’d likely die before we could ever trade them, and then they’d go to waste. Besides, how could we carry them both? The horses for their soldiers and the wagon are all gone, along with anything else of value.”
The second man let out an unhappy sigh. “Then we should eat the big one before anyone else shows up. We could carry the smaller one easier and then trade her.”
“Or save her and eat her later.”
“We’d be better off trading her. When else would we ever get a chance like this to get as much as she would fetch?”
As the two men argued, Richard tried to reach out to the side to touch Kahlan lying close up against him, but he couldn’t. He realized that his wrists were bound tightly together with a coarse rope. He instead pushed at her with his elbow. She didn’t respond.
Richard knew that he needed to do something, but he also knew that he would first need to summon not just his senses, but his strength, or he would have no chance. He felt worse than weak. He felt feverish with an inner sickness that had not only drained his strength but left his mind in a numb fog.
He lifted his head a little and squinted in the dim light, trying to see, trying to get his bearings, but he couldn’t really make out much of anything. When his head pushed up against something, he realized that he and Kahlan were covered with a stiff tarp. Out under the bottom edge he could see a pair of vague, dark silhouettes at the end of the wagon beyond his feet. One man stepped closer and lifted the bottom of the tarp while the other looped a rope around Kahlan’s ankles and tied it tight, the way they had done with Richard.
Through that opening Richard could see that it was night. The full moon was up, but its light had a muted quality to it that told him the sky was overcast. A slow drizzle drifted through the still air. Beyond the two figures a murky wall of spruce trees rose up out of sight.
Kahlan didn’t move when Richard pushed his elbow a little more forcefully against her ribs. Her hands, like his, lay nested at her belt line. His worry about what might be wrong with her had him struggling to gather his senses. He could see that she was at least breathing, although each slow breath was shallow.
As he gradually regained consciousness, Richard realized that besides feeling weak with fever of some sort, he hurt all over from hundreds of small wounds. Some of them still oozed blood. He could see that Kahlan was covered with the same kinds of cuts and puncture wounds. Her clothes were soaked in blood.
But it was not only the blood on the two of them that worried him. Damp air rolling in under the tarp carried an even heavier smell of blood from out beyond the men. There had been people with them, people who had come to help them. His level of alarm rose past his ability to gather his strength.
Richard could feel the lingering effects of being healed, and he recognized the shadowy touch of the woman who had been healing him, but since he still ached from cuts and bruises, he knew that while the healing had been started, it hadn’t gone beyond that start, much less been completed.
He wondered why.
On his other side, the side away from Kahlan, he heard something dragged across the floor of the wagon.
“Look at this,” the man with the gruff voice said as he pulled it out. For the first time, Richard could see the size of the man’s muscled arms as he reached in and lifted the object he had dragged closer.
The other man let out a low whistle. “How could they have missed that? For that matter, how could they have missed these two?”
The bigger man glanced around. “Messy as everything looks, it must have been the Shun-tuk.”
The other’s voice lowered with sudden concern. “Shun-tuk? You really think so?”
“From what I know of their ways, I’d say it was them.”
“What would the Shun-tuk be doing out here?”
The big man leaned toward his companion. “Same as us. Hunting for those with souls.”
“This far from their homeland? That seems unlikely.”
“With the barrier wall now breached, what better place to hunt for people with souls? The Shun-tuk would go anywhere, do anything, to find such people. Same as us.” He lifted an arm around in a quick gesture. “We came out to hunt these new lands, didn’t we? So would the Shun-tuk.”
“But they have a vast domain. Are you sure they would venture out?”
“Their domain may be vast and they may be powerful, but the thing they want most they don’t have. With the barrier wall breached they can hunt for it, now, the same as us, the same as others.”
The other man’s gaze darted about. “Even so, their domain is distant. Do you really think it could be them? This far out from their homeland?”
“I’ve never encountered the Shun-tuk myself, and I hope not to.” The big man raked his thick fingers back through his wet, stringy hair as he scanned the dark line of trees. “But I’ve heard that they hunt other half people just for the practice until they can find those with souls.
“This looks like their way. They usually hunt at night. With prey out in the open like this, they strike fast and hard with overwhelming numbers. Before anyone has time to see them coming, or to react, it’s over. They usually eat some of those they fall upon, but they take most for later.”
“Then what about these two? Why would they leave them?”
“They wouldn’t. In their rush to eat some of those they captured and to take the rest back with them, they must have missed these two hidden under the tarp.”
The smaller man picked at a splinter at the end of the wagon bed for a moment as he carefully scanned the countryside. “I hear it told that Shun-tuk often come back to check for returning stragglers.”
“You heard true.”
“Then we should be away from here in case they come back. Once they are overcome with the blood lust, they would devour us without hesitation.”
Richard felt powerful fingers grip his ankle. “I thought you wanted to eat this one before he dies and his soul can leave him.”
The other man took hold of Richard’s other ankle. “Maybe we should take him to a safe place, first, where the Shun-tuk wouldn’t be so likely to come across us and interfere. I would hate to be surprised once we get started. We can get a good price for the other. There be those who would pay anything for one with a soul. Even the Shun-tuk would bargain for such a person.”
“That’s a dangerous idea.” He thought it over briefly. “But you’re right, the Shun-tuk would pay a fortune.” The wolfish hunger was back in the bigger man’s voice. “This one, though, is mine.”
“There’s plenty for both of us.”
The other grunted. He seemed already lost in private cravings. “But only one soul.”
“It belongs to the one who devours it.”
“Enough talk,” the big man growled. “I want at him.”
As Richard was dragged out of the wagon, he was still struggling to gather his wits in order to make some kind of sense of the strange things he was hearing. He remembered well the warnings about the dangers of the Dark Lands. He was aware enough to realize that for the moment his life depended on not letting the two men know that he was beginning to come around.
As he was swiftly dragged by his ankles clear of the wagon bed, his upper body dropped to the ground. Even though he tried to round his shoulders, with his hands tied he couldn’t use them or his arms effectively to keep his head from whacking the rocky ground. The pain was shockingly sharp, followed by an enveloping, inviting blackness that he knew would be fatal if he couldn’t fight it off.
He focused on the surroundings, looking for an escape route, to try to keep his mind engaged. From what he was able to see in the murky moonlight, the wagon sat alone and desolate in the wilderness. The horses were gone.
While he didn’t see anyone else about, he did spot bones nearby. The bones were not bleached by weather, but stained dark with dried blood and bits of flesh. He could see gouges where teeth tried to scrape every bit of tissue from the bones.
The bones were human.
He recognized, too, shreds of uniforms. They were the uniforms of the First File, his personal bodyguards. Some of them, at least, had apparently given their lives defending Richard and Kahlan.
The smaller man still had hold of Richard’s ankle, apparently unwilling to let go of his prize. The other man stood to the side, looking at the thing he had pulled across the floor and out of the wagon.
Richard realized that it was his sword.
The man holding the sword pulled Kahlan partway out from under the tarp. Her lower legs bent at the knees and swung lifelessly from the end of the wagon bed.
While the man was distracted looking at her, Richard used the opportunity to sit up and lunge, trying to snatch his sword. The man yanked it back out of the way before Richard could get his fingers around the hilt. With his hands and feet tied, he hadn’t been free enough to grab it in time.
Both men stepped back. They hadn’t thought he was conscious. Richard had lost the advantage of surprise and gained nothing in return.
In reaction to seeing him awake, both men decided not to waste any more time. Snarling like hungry wolves, they descended on him, attacking him like animals in a feeding frenzy. The situation was so bizarre that it was difficult to believe.
The smaller of the two pulled Richard’s shirt open. Richard could see a glaze of ferocious savagery in the man’s eyes. The bigger one, teeth bared with a feral fury, dove straight for the side of Richard’s neck. Richard reflexively drew his shoulder up, deflecting the lunge at the last instant. In protecting his exposed neck, the move instead presented his shoulder to the attack.
Richard screamed out in pain as teeth sank into his upper arm. He knew that he had to do something, and do it quick.
He could think of only one thing: his gift. He mentally reached down deep within, desperately summoning deadly forces, urgently calling on the power that was his birthright.
Nothing happened.
With his level of anger and desperation, along with his fear for Kahlan, the essentials were there for his gift to respond. In the past it had answered such critical need. The power of it should have come roaring forth.
It was as if there was no gift there to summon.
Unable to call it forth, with his wrists and ankles bound, he had no effective way to fight off the two men.
CHAPTER (#ulink_e12a42bf-4c73-5be8-a901-322468504c65)
2 (#ulink_e12a42bf-4c73-5be8-a901-322468504c65)
Frustrated and angry that he couldn’t get the mysteries of his gift to respond in order to help himself and Kahlan, Richard knew that he didn’t have the time to try to figure it out. Instead, he resorted to using what he could depend on—his instincts and experience.
As the men lunged for him, Richard thrashed wildly, trying to prevent them from being able to hold on to him and muscle him under control. Being on the ground with the weight of his attackers above him left him at a decided disadvantage, but he knew that he couldn’t let that stop him from doing everything he could to fight them off.
Their eyes wild, both men threw themselves over the top of him to hold him down. At the same time they tried to rip into him with their teeth. Richard had heard stories of people being attacked and eaten by bears. The two men piling onto him reminded him of the helplessness that came across in those stories, but with the frightening new dimension of human malevolence behind it.
Several times their teeth began to sink into his flesh, but each time Richard managed to jerk, twist, or elbow them away before they were able to get a good enough bite to rip off pieces of him. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t simply stab him to death. They were both carrying knives, and they had his sword.
It was almost as if they knew what they wanted to do, but their inexperience was making them less effective than they might have otherwise been. Still, the partially successful attempts left gaping, horrifically painful wounds that gushed blood. With Richard quickly tiring from fighting under the weight of the two men, to say nothing of losing blood, he knew it was inevitable that they were going to succeed in what they intended.
Incomprehensibly, between trying to bite off pieces of him, the men paused to lap at the blood as if they were dying of thirst and didn’t want to let a drop of it get away and run into the ground. The interruption from biting to go after all the blood at least gave Richard time to get a breath.
Frustrated by not being able to get him under their control, the bigger man pressed a muscular forearm against Richard’s throat and leaned his weight on it. Richard fought to breathe as he tried to squirm out from under the pressure of the arm compressing his throat. It was terrifying to have both men on top of him, trying to tear him apart with their teeth, and not be able to move, much less get them off.
Pressed down with all his weight, the man’s arm abruptly slipped on all the blood. As he fell forward he had to throw a hand out onto the ground for balance. In a flash, with strength powered by fear and desperation, Richard pulled his own blood-slicked arms up from under the man stretched out over him and looped one arm over the man’s head.
Richard elbowed the man’s arm, knocking it aside. Without a hand on the ground, he lost his balance and fell farther forward. Richard arched his back, at the same time blocking with his knees, forcing the man around onto his back. Finally in a position to apply leverage, Richard pulled the rope binding his wrists together tight across the man’s throat.
Straining with every ounce of strength, Richard hauled back on the coarse rope binding his wrists, using it as a garrote to choke the big man.
Surprised, the man hadn’t had time to draw a breath before Richard had control of him. He gasped, straining for urgently needed air as he desperately clawed at Richard’s forearms. His fingernails ripped gashes across Richard’s flesh, but all the blood made for a greasy grip on Richard’s arms and the man couldn’t get himself free. Not able to escape the hold, he reached back, trying to claw Richard’s face or gouge out his eyes, but Richard’s face was out of reach and the man’s fingers caught only empty air.
The second man rushed in to help. He, too, tried to lever Richard’s arms away from his companion, but could find no spot to get his fingers under for a solid hold. Richard, fighting for his life, kept the first man locked in a death grip.
Not able to break Richard’s hold, the second man hammered his fists against Richard arms, trying to make him let go of his companion. Lost in rage, Richard hardly felt the blows.
Seeing that his efforts were doing no good, the man quickly realized that he had to try something else. Yelling for his companion not to give up, he struck out with a fist at Richard’s face, trying to get him to let go. With the way Richard had the big man pulled in tight against himself, the blows weren’t direct enough. Several times the man’s fist glanced off Richard’s jaw as he screamed for Richard to let go.
Richard had no intention of letting go. To let go would mean certain death.
The big man Richard was choking squirmed frantically, his arms flailing as he desperately reached for something, anything, that would help him escape or at least get a breath. He kicked with his heels, aiming for Richard’s shins. Richard pulled his knees up to keep his lower legs out of range. Most of the blind kicks landed on the ground and the ones that did connect weren’t direct enough. Gritting his teeth with the effort, Richard tipped the man back even farther just to make sure that he couldn’t do any damage with his heels.
Richard saw a knife blade rising in a bloody fist of the second man. He pulled the man he was strangling over on top of himself as best he could to shield himself against a knife attack. He didn’t know how effective it would be, but it was the only thing he could do.
Suddenly, there was a loud, bone-cracking thump. The man faltered as he tried to turn. Another, sharper thump swiftly followed. With the third blow, blood rained down.
The man dropped the knife as he collapsed in a limp heap across the top of the man Richard was choking.
Richard wasn’t sure what had happened, but he was not about to let go to find out. Without the second man fighting him, he was able to focus all his strength on the task at hand. The big man’s movements had already become slow and weak as not only his wind was being cut off, but also the blood to his brain.
Richard screamed with rage to power his own aching muscles. As the man’s struggling became sluggish, Richard swiftly changed his hold, throwing an arm around the man’s neck, getting him in a headlock. Hard as he could, he twisted the man’s head. In the quiet drizzle, when he reached the point of resistance, he pulled back a bit to gather more force, then slammed the man’s head over even harder. When he did, he finally felt the neck snap. The man’s whole body immediately went slack.
Powered by fury, Richard continued strangling the man even though he was no longer fighting.
A hand gently reached down with a reassuring touch to Richard’s bulging biceps.
“It’s all right. He’s dead. They’re both dead.” It was a woman’s voice he didn’t recognize. “You’re safe,” she said. “You can let go now.”
Still panting from the effort and the rage, Richard blinked as he looked up into several shadowed faces crowded in over him.
They were not soldiers. From their simple clothes, they appeared to be country folk. Two women and two men leaned in, looking down at him. Back beyond those four, a handful of other men crowded in closer. They, too, looked like country folk.
CHAPTER (#ulink_f83c4ed0-545c-5d10-9628-300f79e7af59)
3 (#ulink_f83c4ed0-545c-5d10-9628-300f79e7af59)
Richard gradually released the pressure on the dead man’s neck. As the remaining air hissed from his lifeless lungs, his head flopped crookedly to one side.
One of the men standing above him lifted the limp arm of the other, smaller of the two dead men atop Richard and pulled him off to the side. Even in death, there was still a bloody snarl frozen on the face.
A mask of blood had run down to cover the side of the man’s face. Fragments of bone stuck up from his matted hair. Richard saw that the back of his head had been bashed in with a large rock that one of the other men crowded in close still held in a tight grip.
As the man with the broken neck began to slowly slip off to the side, one of the women, the one who had touched Richard’s arm, used a foot to shove the bigger of the two dead men aside. It was a relief to have the suffocating weight finally off.
The woman picked up the bloody knife that the second attacker had dropped when his skull had been crushed in. Leaning close, she sliced at the rope binding Richard’s hands and they at last parted. She moved down and cut the rope tying his ankles together.
“Thank you,” Richard said. He was more than relieved to at last be free. “You saved my life.”
“For the moment,” a man in the shadows said.
“We hope you will return the favor,” another added.
Richard didn’t know what he meant, but he had bigger worries at the moment.
With an angry gesture, the woman with the knife hushed the men before turning her attention back to Richard.
He saw in the weak light of the full moon that illuminated the cloud cover that she was middle-aged. Fine lines creased her face in an agreeable way. It was too dark to tell the color of her eyes, but not the determination in them. Her expression, too, was one of grim resolve.
The woman leaned closer to press a hand to the bite wound on the side of his upper arm to try to stop the bleeding. Her gaze turned up to his as she held pressure in the wound.
“Are you the one who killed Jit, the Hedge Maid?” she asked.
Surprised by the question, Richard nodded as he looked around at all the stony faces watching him. “How do you know that?”
With her free hand, the woman pulled stray strands of her straight, shoulder-length hair back from her face. “A boy, Henrik, came to us a little while ago. He told us that he had been her captive, and that she intended to kill him like all the others she had killed. He said that two people rescued him and killed the Hedge Maid, but now they were in trouble and needed help.”
Richard leaned forward. “Was there anyone else with him?”
“I’m afraid not. Just the boy.”
Even though Richard had killed the Hedge Maid, he and Kahlan had both been grievously hurt. Their friends had brought a small army to get the two of them out of the Hedge Maid’s lair and take them home. Now, those friends were all missing. He knew that none of them would have willingly left Kahlan and him alone like this.
“Henrik was the one who told my friends what had happened and where they could find us,” Richard said. “They should have been with him.”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, but he was alone. Terrified, and alone.”
“Did he tell you what happened, here?” Richard asked. “Did he tell you where those who were with us are now?”
“He was winded and in a panic to find help. He said there was no time to explain. He said we had to hurry and help you. We came right away.”
Now that Richard was free and the rush of the fight was over, the shock of pain had begun to bear down on him in earnest. He touched his forehead with trembling fingers.
“But did he say anything else at all?” Richard asked. “It’s important.”
The woman glanced around in the darkness as she shook her head. “He said that you had been attacked and needed help. We knew that we had to hurry. Henrik is back at our village. When we get back you can question him yourself. For now, we must get in out of the night.” She gestured urgently to the woman behind her. “Give me your scarf.”
The woman immediately pulled it off her head and handed it over. The woman kneeling beside Richard used the scarf as a bandage, wrapping it high around his upper arm several times. She swiftly knotted it, then stuck the knife handle under the knot and twisted it around to tighten the tourniquet. Richard gritted his teeth against the pain.
He couldn’t seem to slow his racing heart. He was worried about all those who had been with him, worried as to what could have happened to them. He needed to get to Henrik and find out what was going on. More than that, though, he was worried about getting help for Kahlan.
“We shouldn’t be out here any longer,” one of the men in back quietly cautioned, trying to hurry the woman.
“Almost done,” she said as she quickly appraised some of his more obvious injuries. “You need these wounds sewn closed and treated with poultice or they will be infected by morning,” she told Richard. “Bites like this are not to be ignored.”
“Please,” Richard said as he gestured with his other arm toward the wagon. “Help my wife? I fear that she is hurt worse.”
With a quick gesture from the woman, two of the men hurried to the wagon.
“Is she the Mother Confessor?” one of the men called back as he checked on her.
Richard’s sense of caution rose. “Yes.”
“I don’t think that we can do anything for her here,” he said.
The other man spotted the sword and picked it up from the ground. His gaze glided over the ornately wrought gold and silver scabbard before taking in the word TRUTH made of gold wire woven through the silver wire wrapping the hilt.
“Then you would be the Lord Rahl?”
“That’s right,” Richard said.
“Then there is no doubt. You are the ones we came looking for,” the man said. “The boy, Henrik, told us who you were. We came to find you.”
Richard’s concern eased at hearing that it was Henrik who had told them exactly who he and Kahlan were.
“Enough,” the woman said. She quickly turned back to Richard. “Glad we were in time, Lord Rahl. I’m Ester. Now we have to get you both back to safety.”
“Richard will do.”
“Yes, Lord Rahl,” she said absently, as if no longer listening as she pressed at wounds, checking their depth.
Ester motioned to some of the other men behind her. “You will need to help him. He’s badly hurt. We have to get out of here before those who did this come back.”
Several men, relieved to hear that she was finally ready to leave, rushed in to help Richard to his feet. Once up, Richard insisted on going to Kahlan. The men steadied him when he staggered to the wagon.
Richard saw that Kahlan was still unconscious, but breathing. He laid a hand on her, aching with fear over her condition. Her clothes were soaked in blood from the ordeal with the Hedge Maid. The thought of that vile creature and what she had been doing to Kahlan again awakened Richard’s anger.
The Hedge Maid had been drinking Kahlan’s blood.
He slid his hand through the long slit in her shirt, feeling where Jit’s familiars had slashed open Kahlan’s abdomen to bleed her and collect her blood for the Hedge Maid to drink. He was worried not only about the severity of the terrible wound, but how much blood she had lost. To his astonishment, he found only a few swollen ripples in her skin where the long wound had been nearly healed.
Richard recalled, then, the touch he had felt—the touch of a healing begun, but not finished. Zedd or Nicci must have healed the deep wound on Kahlan, but from the rest of the wounds still evident on her, Richard could see that, as with him, they hadn’t finished what they had started. Because he remembered that it had been Nicci’s healing touch on him, he suspected that it would have been Zedd who had started healing Kahlan.
Richard was thankful that Zedd had managed to heal the terrible gash in Kahlan’s abdomen, but he hadn’t had time to heal everything. She had a number of wounds that still bled. He knew, too, that she must have other serious injuries or she would not be unconscious.
“Do you have someone who can help her?” Richard asked. “A gifted person?”
Ester hesitated. “We have someone gifted who may be able to help,” she finally said.
One of the men behind leaned close, taking hold of Ester’s dress at her shoulder to pull her back a bit as he whispered in her ear. “Do you think that wise?”
The woman turned an angry look on the man. “What choice is there? Should we instead let them die?”
He straightened, his only answer a sigh.
“But we must hurry,” Ester said. “She can’t heal them if they’re dead.”
“Besides that,” another man reminded her, “we need to get all of us in out of the night.”
At his words, others glanced around in the darkness. Richard noted that they all seemed terrified of being out after dark. Having once been a woods guide, he had often visited country folk. It was a relatively common attitude among them to want to shut themselves in when the sun went down. People in more remote places tended to be more superstitious than most, and the one common thing they all feared was darkness.
Although, he had to admit that these people certainly had real things to fear.
Richard watched as several men gently lifted Kahlan and then placed her over the shoulder of the biggest man. Richard wanted to carry her himself, but he knew that he couldn’t even walk by himself. He reluctantly let two of the men put their shoulders under his arms to help him stay upright.
In the faint moonlight and soft golden glow of lanterns that several of the people carried, Richard looked back beyond the wagon. For the first time, he saw countless bodies. They weren’t the men of the First File. Strange, pale, half-naked people lay sprawled across the ground everywhere. Given their gaping wounds, it looked like the First File had fought a fierce battle. Given the numbers of the dead, it was no wonder that the damp air smelled of blood and gore.
Nearby, just beyond the corner of the wagon, one of the dead men lay sprawled on his back, mouth agape. His dead eyes stared up at the dark sky.
The man’s teeth had been filed to points.
Richard’s grandfather Zedd and the sorceress Nicci had brought elite soldiers with them to see Richard and Kahlan safely back to the People’s Palace. None of them would have abandoned the two of them. Richard scanned the scattered bones among pieces of uniforms, insignias, and the weapons of the First File lying scattered across the ground. It was a horrifying sight. But he didn’t see anything that looked like it belonged to Zedd or Nicci or Cara.
Cara, his and Kahlan’s personal bodyguard, was Mord-Sith. She would not have left him for any reason short of death, and he’d always suspected that even then Cara would come back from the world of the dead to protect him.
He feared that out there in the darkness where he couldn’t see them, the bones of all those he cared so much about were among the dead. Panic at the thought of losing those so close to him tightened his chest.
“Hurry now,” Ester said, pushing at the men helping to hold Richard up. “He’s bleeding badly. We have to get back.”
The others were more than happy to start away from the sight of so much death and head back to safety.
Richard let the men half carry him onto a narrow path through the wall of trees and into the night.
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4 (#ulink_3cf1f4d0-1d05-54a1-a410-8085fa4438b9)
On their swift journey through a forest so dense that the floor of the trail remained nearly untouched by moonlight, all of the people around him kept a wary watch of the surrounding darkness. Richard, too, scanned the woods, but he could see little beyond the weak lantern light. There was no way of telling what might be back in the black depths of the woods, no way of telling if the mysterious, half-naked people who had slaughtered his friends might be following him.
Every sound caught his attention and drew his eye. Every branch that brushed against him or snagged on his pant leg elevated his heart rate.
From what he could see, the people he was with carried nothing more than utilitarian knives. They had used a rock to dispatch the man attacking Richard. He would hate to encounter the hordes of killers on the dark trail and have to fight them off with little more than rocks.
He was glad to have the tooled leather baldric back over his right shoulder and his sword again at his left hip. From time to time he absently touched the familiar hilt of his sword for reassurance. He knew, though, that he was in little condition to fight.
Still, just touching the ancient weapon stirred its latent power and the silent storm of rage it held within it, stirring its twin within him and enticing him to call it forth. It was reassuring to have that faithful weapon and its attendant power at his beck and call.
Because some of the people had lanterns, Richard scanned the blackness for eye shine that would reveal the presence and position of animals beyond the limited range of the lantern light. While he did see some small creatures like frogs, a raccoon, and some night birds, he didn’t see any eyes of larger animals watching them.
Of course, it was always possible that something larger could have been hidden among the dense clusters of ferns and shrubs or back among the tree trunks so that Richard wouldn’t have seen them.
And, of course, there would have been no eye shine if the eyes watching them were human.
Since he couldn’t really see anything in the black depths of the woods, he depended instead on sounds and smells that might tip him off to a threat. The only thing he smelled, though, was the familiar scent of balsam, ferns, and the mat of pine needles, dried leaves, and forest litter covering the ground. The only sounds he heard were the buzz of insects and sometimes the sharp call of night birds. Distant, faint cries of coyotes occasionally echoed through the mountains.
All of the people taking Richard and Kahlan to the safety of their village refrained from talking on the journey. The wary group walked swiftly but nearly silently, the way only those who had spent a lifetime in the woods were able to do. Even the man ahead who was carrying Kahlan made little noise as he moved along the trail. Richard, unable to walk very well and sometimes dragging his feet as the men on either side helped him, was making more noise than any of the rest of them, but there was little he could do about it.
With all the bodies of strange people he had seen back near the wagon, to say nothing of the two men who had attacked him and the things he had overheard, as well as all the warnings he’d previously gotten about venturing into the Dark Lands, Richard could easily see why these people were nervous and being so careful. The two men who had attacked him had looked nothing like the bodies he had seen. If those two men had been right, then the dead were the mysterious people they had mentioned, the Shun-tuk.
It seemed that unlike other country folk Richard knew back home, the people with him had more reason for their fears than simple superstition.
He appreciated it when people took real dangers seriously. The people who most often invited trouble were the willfully ignorant who didn’t want to believe trouble was possible, so they dismissed the potential for it. You couldn’t be ready for what you never considered or were unwilling to consider. Worry was sometimes a valuable survival tool, so Richard thought it foolish to ignore it. But still, since they were so lightly armed, he didn’t think these people took the threats seriously enough.
Either that, or perhaps the threats they faced were something new to them.
It wasn’t long before they abruptly emerged from the confining, oppressive darkness of the forest into the open. A light mist borne on cooler air dampened Richard’s face.
In the distance across the slightly rolling ground out ahead of them, lit by the muted moonlight, Richard saw a sheer rock wall rising up. Partway up the cliff face he could see faint, flickering light, probably from candles and lanterns, in passageways that looked to go back into the rock.
Making its way ever onward toward the cliff, the trail passed between large fields, some planted with grain, others with vegetables. Once among the fields spreading out from the foot of the soaring cliff, the people with him finally felt safe enough to start whispering among themselves.
As they got closer to the rock wall, they came upon pens made of split rails. Some of the pens held sheep, others rather skinny hogs. A few milk cows stood together in a tight cluster in the corner of one pen. Long coops set among boulders fallen from the mountain towering over them looked like they were for chickens that were no doubt roosting for the night. Richard saw a few men tending to the animals.
One of the men was checking on the sheep, patting their backs to make them move aside as he wove his way back through the small but dense flock crowded together in a large pen.
“What is it, Henry?” Ester asked as she got closer. “What are you men doing down here at this time of night?”
The man couldn’t help staring for a brief moment at the strangers being carried in, one being helped on foot and a woman with a long fall of hair draped over a man’s shoulders. He lifted a hand out, gesturing to the neat grid of pens.
“The animals are restless.”
Richard looked back over a shoulder. The palm of his left hand rested on the familiar hilt of his sword as his gaze swept the fields between them and the dark mass of woods. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“I think you had better leave the animals and get inside,” Richard said as he scanned the dark tree line.
The man frowned as he lifted his knit cap to scratch his thinning white hair. “And who might you be to tell me what to do with our animals?”
Richard looked back at the man and shrugged, but then, feeling his legs about to give out, he put his left arm back around the shoulder of one of the two men standing beside him. “I’m just someone who doesn’t like it when animals are restless, and I’ve seen a lot of frightening things this night not all that far behind us.”
“He’s right,” Ester said as she started out again toward the rock wall. “You’d best get up inside with the rest of us.”
Henry replaced his cap on his head as he cast a worried frown toward the silent wall of the woods hard against the far edge of the fields. The tall spruce looked like sentinels keeping the moonlight from entering.
Henry conceded with a nod. “I’ll bring the others up right behind you.”
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With the help of the men to either side, Richard followed behind Ester, who in turn followed behind the man carrying Kahlan. Out at the head of the small group making their way toward the cliff, a man with a lantern looked back from time to time, making sure everyone was still accounted for.
Kahlan, her long hair matted with blood, her arms dangling, hung limp and unconscious over the shoulder of the man carrying her. In the moonlight Richard could see the wounds from the thorny vines the Hedge Maid had used to bind and imprison her. From time to time blood from those and other wounds dripped from her fingertips.
Richard had the same kinds of cuts, but not as many as Kahlan. The thorn vines must have had a substance on them that kept wounds from closing up properly because his, too, still oozed blood. At least he had managed to kill the Hedge Maid before she could completely drain Kahlan of all her blood. Although seriously hurt, at least she was still alive.
As they had made their way through the forest on their way toward the village, he had ached to stop and heal her himself, but he knew that he was in no condition to be able to accomplish such a task. It took a variety of strengths on the part of the one doing the healing to be effective, strengths he didn’t have right then. It made more sense to get help for her.
Once he knew that Kahlan was safe, he needed to find out what had happened to the soldiers of the First File and the friends who had been with them. He refused to believe that those he cared so much about were already dead. He remembered all too vividly, though, the human bones he had seen. He was distressed that any of his people had died, but especially in such a horrific fashion.
As they approached the base of the cliff, the small group made their way through a sprawling boulder field of broken rock built up over time as rock cleaved from the cliff face to accumulate below. In some places those with Richard, making their way single-file among the boulders, had to duck under massive slabs of stone that had fallen from the face of the mountain and now rested atop the jumble of rock slabs.
Richard was surprised to see the people ahead of him start up a narrow path right up against the face of the rock wall. Set back in a tangle of scrub, it would have been easy to miss, had he not seen people ahead beginning to climb upward.
He had thought that maybe they had ladders going up to the inhabited caves, or even an interior passage, but it appeared that the only way up was along the path made up of natural crags and ledges of the rock face. Where there were no natural footholds, the rock looked to have been laboriously cut away to create a trail. In the weak yellow light of the lanterns carried by some of those ahead, he could see that the rock underfoot had been smoothed by people treading across it to ascend the cliff wall for what had to be thousands of years.
“What is this place?” Richard asked in a whisper.
Ester looked back over her shoulder. “Our village, Stroyza.”
Richard missed a step. He wondered if she knew what the name meant. Few people still alive understood High D’Haran. Richard was one of those who did.
“Why do you live up there? Why not build down among the fields and then you wouldn’t have to climb up and down this treacherous trail all the time?”
“It is where our people have always lived.” When that seemed not to be reason enough for him, she showed him a patient smile. “Don’t you think that it would also be treacherous for anyone who would come to attack us in the night?”
Richard glanced to the bobbing dots of lantern light out ahead as people carefully made their way ever upward. “I suppose you’re right. A single person up top could easily hold off an army trying to make their way up this trail.” His brow twitched. “Do you have a lot of trouble with people attacking your village?”
“This is the Dark Lands,” she said, as if that was explanation enough.
With the drizzle making the rock slick, Richard stepped carefully as they made their way up the narrow ledge of a path. The path wasn’t anywhere near wide enough for a man to walk on either side of him to help him walk, so one of the men instead followed close behind, ready to steady him if he faltered. Fortunately, there were iron handholds pinned into the face of the rock in particularly narrow spots.
Unfortunately, the handholds were on the left side, and his bandaged left arm was the one most severely injured. He was in so much pain that his fingers could barely grip the iron holds, so he sometimes had to cross his right hand over to grip the bars. It made it more difficult to climb, but kept him from falling. The man following close behind held on to the iron bars with one hand and from time to time used his other to help prop Richard up and to keep him from falling. Glancing downward in the faint moonlight revealed a dizzying drop.
When they finally reached the top, a small cluster of people waited to greet them. As Richard stepped onto the open area the crowd moved back to give the arriving party room. He could see that the naturally formed, broad cavity narrowed down in places into several cavelike, wide passageways going deeper back into the mountain. Concern masked the faces of the people watching the injured strangers being brought in.
Several cats emerged from the darkness to greet the returning people from the village. Richard spotted several more of the cautious creatures back in the passageways. Most of them were black.
“We’re thankful to see you all safely back,” one of the waiting men said. “With you out after dark for so long, we were worried.”
Ester was nodding. “I know. It couldn’t be helped. Fortunately, we found them.”
Before Ester could introduce him, Henrik spotted them from the shelter of the shadows and ran out to greet them.
“Lord Rahl! Lord Rahl! You’re alive!”
Whispered astonishment swept back through the small assemblage of villagers. Apparently, not everyone in the village had been informed who the party had gone out to rescue.
“Lord Rahl … leader of the D’Haran Empire?” one man asked as whispers continued to spread among those gathered.
Through his pain, Richard nodded. “That’s right.”
They all started going to a knee. Richard hurriedly waved away the show of deference. “None of that, please.”
As they all hesitantly returned to their feet, Richard managed a smile for the boy. “Henrik, I’m relieved to see that you are all right.”
The man holding Kahlan eased her limp form down off his shoulder. Several people rushed in to help.
Ester quickly introduced a few of the people gathered around, but then cut it short. “We need to get them inside. They are both badly hurt. We need to see to their injuries.”
The small crowd, shadowed by several cats, followed behind as Ester hurriedly led them back into one of the broader tunnels. There were a number of rooms built into natural clefts and crags along the way back into the cavern. Many of the rooms and network of tunnels had been excavated from the semisoft rock. The faces of some of the rooms had mortared stone walls filling in the gaps. Some places had wooden doors while others were covered with animal skins to create what looked to be a community of small homes.
The honeycomb of dwellings throughout the warren of burrows looked like a grim existence, but Richard supposed that the safety of the place high up within the mountain was comfort enough. The clothes worn by the people around him also spoke to the austere nature of existence in their small village. They all wore similar types of crudely made fabric that blended in with the color of the stone.
Ester snatched the sleeve of a woman ahead of her and leaned closer. “Get Sammie.”
The woman frowned back over her shoulder. “Sammie?”
Ester confirmed it with a firm nod. “These two need to be healed.”
“Sammie?” the woman repeated.
“Yes, hurry. There is no time to waste.”
“But—”
“Go,” Ester commanded with a flick of her hand. “Hurry. I will take them to my place.”
As the woman rushed off to get the help Ester had called for, the crowd all funneled into a smaller passageway. Finally arriving at a doorway covered over with a heavy hanging made of sheepskin, Ester and several of the people with them ducked inside. Once inside the small room one of the men hurried to light dozens of candles. In contrast to the simple wooden table, three chairs, and chest to the side, crude but colorful carpets covered the floor. Pillows made of unadorned material similar to the material their clothes were made from provided the only other seating.
Ester directed the men carrying Kahlan to the side of the room, where they gently laid her down on a lambskin backed with a row of plain, well-used pillows. The men with Richard helped ease him down to sit on the floor against several pillows.
“We need to tend to your wounds right away,” Ester told Richard. She turned to some of the women who had followed them in. “Get some warm water and rags. We will need a poultice made up. Bring bandages as well as needle and thread.”
As the small cluster of the women hurried back out of the modest quarters to do her bidding, Ester knelt beside Richard. With a gentle hand she carefully lifted his arm and loosened the tourniquet so she could look under the blood-soaked bandage.
“I don’t like the color of your arm,” she said. “These bite wounds must be washed out. Some of them need to be stitched up.” She glanced up at his eyes. “You also need more talented help.”
Richard knew that she meant he needed a gifted person to heal him. He nodded as he leaned to the side, carefully pulling strands of hair back from Kahlan’s face so that he could press the inside of his wrist against her forehead. She felt feverish.
“I can wait,” he said. “I want you to take care of the Mother Confessor first.”
When he looked back at Ester, apprehension tightened her features. She was clearly worried that he was the one who needed the immediate help.
Richard softened his tone. “I’m grateful for all you and your people have done, but please, I want you to help my wife first. You’re right that my bite wounds need to be tended to, but she’s unconscious and obviously in worse trouble. Maybe my wounds could be sewn and bandaged while your gifted person sees to helping the Mother Confessor first. Please, I’m worried about her condition. I need to know that she will be all right.”
Ester studied his eyes briefly and then smiled a bit. “I understand.” She turned and flicked a hand. “Peter, please go make sure that Sammie is on her way.”
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Richard turned from Kahlan when he heard people approaching out in the corridors. The first woman who ducked in under the sheepskin covering the doorway was carrying a bucket of water. A few of the other women brought in another bucket of water along with bandages and other supplies.
He was surprised to see some older women enter next, ushering in a wisp of a girl only beginning to blossom into womanhood. A long mass of black hair framed her small face. Her dark eyes were wide with wonder as she stood stiffly among the sheltering cluster of women. The smooth skin of her narrow face set back in among the dark mass of curly locks looked pale in the candlelight.
Ester rose up and held a hand back down toward Richard. “Sammie, this is Lord Rahl. The woman lying there is his wife, the Mother Confessor. They’ve both been badly hurt and need your help.”
The girl’s dark eyes briefly turned down to take a look at Kahlan before they turned back up at Ester. At Ester’s urging, the girl hesitantly stepped forward. She lifted out the sides of her long skirt and performed an awkward curtsy before Richard.
Richard could easily see that she was not simply shy; she was terrified of him. Being from such a small, isolated place, she probably rarely saw strangers, much less strangers such as this. Despite the pain he was in and his worry for Kahlan, he made himself smile warmly to reassure her.
“Thank you for coming, Sammie.”
She nodded as she hugged her slender arms to herself. Without answering, she moved back against the shelter of the older women.
“Sammie, would you excuse us for just a moment, please?” He looked up at Ester. “May I speak with you privately?”
Ester apparently knew why he wanted to talk to her alone. She forced a quick smile in answer before shepherding the small group to the doorway. They paused, looking confused, but finally obliged as Ester gently shooed them out. Once they were gone, Ester pulled the sheepskin down across the doorway.
“Lord Rahl, I know that—”
“She’s a child.”
The woman straightened her back and clasped her hands as she took a deep breath. She stepped closer and chose her words carefully.
“Yes, Lord Rahl, and though she is only just fifteen years, she’s a gifted child. Right now that’s what you both need. I can tend to cuts and scrapes, treat fevers with herbs, sometimes I can even set a broken bone”—she gestured to Kahlan—“but I don’t know how to help her. I don’t even have any idea what’s wrong with her. Yes, Sammie is young, but she is not without knowledge and abilities.”
Richard remembered when he had been as young as Sammie. He had thought that he was all grown up and had the world mostly figured out. While he had known more than most adults gave him credit for, as he had grown older he had come to realize that despite how much he did know, he knew less than he thought he did, mostly because he never appreciated how much more there was to learn. Now, as an adult looking back on someone that age, despite how much they might know, he understood how limited a young person’s scope of the world really was.
That age of early confidence was something like a false dawn. The real thing was coming, yet despite being close at hand it was still not quite there. And even when it did begin to arrive, there was always more to learn. He remembered Zedd telling him that old age meant that the only thing he really knew was that he would never know it all, much less know enough.
Putting Kahlan’s life into the hands of someone with such limited experience was more than a little disconcerting to him.
“But she’s a child,” Richard said softly so that those outside wouldn’t hear. “This is a difficult and complex task even for someone experienced in such things.”
Ester bowed her head respectfully. “Lord Rahl, if you don’t want Sammie to try, that is of course your decision and I will abide by it. I will do my best to sew up the worst of your wounds and tend to other injuries as I know how. I can try to guess at what the Mother Confessor might need and prepare some herbs and such that might help her.”
The woman lifted her head to look him in the eye. “But I think you know as well as I do that it isn’t going to be enough. You both need gifted healing.
“If you don’t want Sammie to try to do that bigger task of what is needed, then all I can suggest is that you will have to travel elsewhere in the hope of finding someone more to your liking. It would be a difficult journey. In the Dark Lands there is no telling how far you will have to go to find such a person. I can tell you that there are not many with such abilities as you need. Not many I would trust, anyway.
“Because of that, Jit was able to prey on those desperate to find help. Occasionally she would help someone in need so as to create hope among other desperate people and in that way draw in more victims.
“Do you think you have the ability to undertake a journey to find someone trustworthy who could help you? Do you think the Mother Confessor can make such a journey? Are you willing to risk her life on waiting until you can find someone else? If you become desperate will you risk her life on someone with veiled motives and perhaps end up in the hands of someone like Jit?
“You have already seen that we are willing to help you, even at the risk of danger to ourselves.”
“And why would you do that?” Richard asked.
Ester shrugged. “We help because we would want someone to help us if we were in danger. It is our way. It has always been our way, handed down from generations long forgotten. We teach our children to help those in need because one day we might be the ones in need, and we can only hope to earn such help if we are worthy, if we are the kind who would give it and not just receive it. We believe in treating others as we would want to be treated.”
“I guess that’s the way I’ve always tried to live my life as well,” Richard said.
“Lord Rahl, I am telling you that Sammie may be only fifteen, but she is gifted and has a good heart. That is all we are able to offer. That is the best we can offer. Are you so sure that you want to turn down our help, such as it is?”
Richard knew that he was in no condition to heal Kahlan himself. Worse, though, he didn’t think that he could. Back at the wagon he had tried to summon his gift to save her life, and his gift had not responded. It was evident that there was something seriously wrong with his gift. If it wouldn’t save her from being murdered, it would not respond to heal her, either.
He didn’t know what could be wrong with his gifted ability. He knew only that it wasn’t working. They both needed help.
He also knew that in his present condition he couldn’t make it far. He remembered that Zedd and Nicci had started healing them even as they lay in the back of the moving wagon. They wouldn’t have been doing that if it wasn’t urgent.
Still, he didn’t entirely trust the motives of these people.
If he wasn’t willing to accept the girl’s gifted help, then having Ester tend to their wounds with needle and thread, herbs, and poultices was the only other choice. He knew that Ester was right that such help wasn’t enough, especially for Kahlan.
Richard had been wounded in the past. This time, though, he felt something different, something more than simple injuries. He wanted to ignore the way he felt, but he knew he couldn’t, at least not for long. He knew, too, that whatever the grim shadow of affliction he felt within himself was, Kahlan was suffering from it far worse than he was.
Zedd and Nicci had been trying to heal him and Kahlan, but they hadn’t been able to finish that work. Now they were missing. Richard knew that the lives of not only Kahlan but also his friends depended on him making the right decision. He didn’t think that there was any time to waste.
But gift or no gift, he didn’t know if he dared to trust Kahlan’s life to such a young and inexperienced girl. Where the gift was concerned, a mistake could be fatal.
“Do you trust her abilities?”
Ester hiked up her gray dress and again knelt beside him. “Sammie is an earnest girl. Her mother was a sorceress. That may account for Sammie seeming to be grown beyond what her years would otherwise suggest. Being ungifted myself, I don’t know much about such abilities, but I do know that her mother passed the gift on to Sammie. There is no doubt about that much of it.”
“Where is her mother?”
Ester’s gaze fell away. “Not long ago we found the remains of Sammie’s father, but not her mother. We think that her mother was captured and taken. Though Sammie holds out hope, I don’t think she is still alive.”
“Taken?”
Ester’s gaze rose to meet his. “As your people were. As nearly happened to the Mother Confessor.
“The Dark Lands have always been a dangerous place. We have long lived with those dangers and know how to remain fairly safe. But now, terrible things are happening that we don’t understand and can’t fight. We need help.”
Richard wiped a hand across his mouth. As he had thought, this was what the men who had helped save him back at the wagon had meant. Although they might have always lived their lives by the code of helping others as they would want to be helped, in this case they needed help that they thought only one such as the Lord Rahl could provide. Considering the frightful things he had seen, it wasn’t hard to see why they were desperate for help. He couldn’t blame them for their motives.
His gaze turned to Kahlan. He briefly watched her shallow breathing. Did he dare to risk her life on such an inexperienced girl?
What choice did he have?
“All right,” he finally said with a sigh of resignation.
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As soon as she had Richard’s agreement to let Sammie help, Ester sprang up. She pulled back the thick covering over the doorway and ducked under it to rush out into the hall. Richard could hear her asking the others to please give the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor privacy. The people murmured their understanding.
In short order Ester ushered the girl back in, leaving all the others to wait down the corridor. With a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder, Ester steered her into the room as she once again let the heavy sheepskin fall across the doorway.
A black cat ducked in under the sheepskin and casually followed the girl into the room. The cat sat off to the side, lifting a hind leg as it licked the glossy fur on its tummy.
Sammie stood stiffly just inside the room, looking too fearful to approach. Her flawless skin laid over her immature features not yet fully emerged made her almost look like a statue carved of the smoothest marble.
Richard held out his good hand and waggled his fingers in invitation. “Please, Sammie, come sit here beside me.”
When Sammie shuffled closer, he gently took her hand and urged her to kneel down beside him. She sat back on her heels, wary to get too close. Her big eyes sparkled in the candlelight as they remained fixed on him. If she only knew that he probably had more to fear than she did.
Once Ester saw that the girl was in his hands, she used her foot to slide the bucket of water across the floor with her as she carried the bandages and other supplies over to Kahlan, where she squatted down and hurriedly began cleaning the worst of Kahlan’s wounds.
“I’m very sorry to hear about your father and that your mother is missing,” Richard said.
Sammie’s eyes welled up with tears at the mention of her parents. “Thank you, Lord Rahl.” Her voice was as thin and timid as the rest of her, and it carried the lonely, painful tone of inconsolable grief.
“Maybe if you can help us, then when I’m able to, I can help find your mother.”
Sammie’s brow twitched. She looked confused. “You are the ruler of the D’Haran Empire.” She wiped the tears from under her eyes. “Why would you be concerned with helping someone from the little village of Stroyza?”
Richard shrugged. “I didn’t become a leader because I wanted to rule people. I became a leader because I wanted to help protect our people from harm. If one of the people I’m sworn to protect is hurt or in danger, no matter who they are, then that is my concern.”
She looked perplexed. “Hannis Arc rules all the Dark Lands, including our village. I’ve never met him, but I’ve never heard anyone say that he is concerned about protecting us. Far from it; I’ve heard that he only cares about prophecy.”
“I’ve heard the same thing,” Richard said. “I don’t share his concern for prophecy. I believe we make our own future. In part that’s what brought me here. The Mother Confessor and I were both hurt while making sure that a terrible prophecy did not come true and harm our people. Our free will, not prophecy, made the ultimate difference in what happened.”
The girl glanced at Kahlan out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry about your wife being hurt.” Her big eyes turned back to Richard. “My mother often said that I was gifted, but it was up to me, not fate, to make something of it.”
“Wise advice. And did she teach you about using your gift?”
A bit of the tension went out of the girl’s bony shoulders. “All my life she taught me things about my gift, but mostly in little ways.”
“Little things are a good place to start. Larger understanding is built on little things. We put those little things we learn together into larger concepts.”
With a thumb, Sammie smoothed a fold in her dress along the length of her thigh. “She was just starting to teach me more, to teach me about using our calling to heal. She said that I was old enough to start learning more. But I’m still only a young sorceress. My ability is nothing compared to my mother’s gift, and especially nothing compared to one such as yours must be, Lord Rahl.”
Richard couldn’t help but to smile. “I didn’t even find out that I had the gift until I was a lot older than you are now. No one taught me about it as I was growing up. I imagine that with all your mother taught you, you must know more about the gift than even I do.”
Her smooth brow bunched skeptically. “Really?”
“Really. I’ve since used my ability, but in a different way than most gifted people. I’ve both destroyed and healed with my ability, but I’ve done it through instinct and desperate need, through letting my gift guide me, rather than from anything I was taught.”
Sammie sat over on her hip as she thought it over. The black cat strolled over to rub against the girl before padding on silent paws toward Kahlan.
“That must be frightening to have the gift and not know how to use it, not know how to control it.”
Despite the pain he was in and his worry for Kahlan, he couldn’t help letting out a small ripple of laughter. “You don’t know the half of it.”
She regarded him with an unreadable look. “But still, you must be able to use your power well enough. After all, you are the Lord Rahl. I’ve heard it said that the people of D’Hara are the steel against steel so that you might be the magic against magic.”
Richard didn’t tell her that at the moment his power didn’t work.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cat cautiously stretched forward to smell Kahlan’s boot. The little black nose glided along, hovering just above her leg and then up along her arm, not quite touching her skin. The cat abruptly drew back. Its lips curled with a hiss that bared sharp little teeth. Richard thought that it must not like a stranger who smelled of blood being among them.
“Are all the cats that live here black?” Richard asked Sammie.
She looked up at him from under her brow. “They are when they need to be.”
Richard frowned. “What does that mean?”
“In the dark they are all black,” she said, cryptically.
Ester, kneeling beside Kahlan, flapped her rag at the cat, chasing it away. Ears laid back, the cat scurried out of the room.
Richard looked back at Sammie. He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he had more important things on his mind. He turned the conversation to the matter at hand. “So what do you know about healing?”
Sammie’s brow twitched as she considered her answer. “My mother was just starting to teach me how to heal people. She talked to me about the fundamentals and then had me help with small things. I’ve only done simple healing—cuts and scrapes, a sick stomach, headaches, rashes. Things like that. She guided me in how to let my ability go down into a person to feel the trouble within them.”
Richard nodded. “I’ve experienced that when I’ve healed people.” He stared off into grim memories. “On occasion, because the need was so great, I’ve had to let myself go so far down into a person that it felt as if I lost who I was as I sank into their soul to lift their pain away and take it into myself.”
“I’ve never gone that deep.” Sammie looked uneasy. “I don’t know that I’d ever be able to go down into a person’s soul.”
“If you’ve healed people then I suspect you have, even if you didn’t realize it,” Richard said. “That’s how it works. While healing, you are venturing down into the essence, in other words the soul, of who they are. At least, that’s how it works for me.”
“That sounds … frightening.”
“Not if you really care about helping them.”
She watched his eyes for a moment as if they held some deep secret. “If you say so, Lord Rahl.”
Richard looked over at Kahlan lying not far away. Ester, her face set in a frown of focused concentration, carefully cleaned and inspected cuts along Kahlan’s arms.
“I’ve healed Kahlan before,” Richard said, “but I’m not strong enough to do it now and I’m terribly worried for her.”
Sammie’s gaze left Kahlan to wander over some of his more serious bite wounds. Her worry about the task he was asking of her was clearly evident in her tense expression.
“I don’t know how deeply I may have gone into a person’s essence, but I do know that I’ve never healed such terrible injuries. I’ve only healed small things. I’ve never tried to heal anything so grievous.”
“Well, from my experiences I can tell you that, to a certain extent, anyway, the severity of the injuries is irrelevant. Of course, in some cases it isn’t, such as when the person is near the veil and in the process of crossing over from the world of life into the world of the dead. That’s different.”
Sammie’s eyes widened. “You mean as the person is crossing the boundaries of the Grace?”
Richard regarded her more seriously. “Your mother taught you about the Grace?”
Sammie nodded. “The symbol that represents the spark of creation, the world of life, the world of the dead, and the way the gift crosses those boundaries to link everything. Those with the gift, she told me, must know about the Grace so as not to violate it. It defines how the gift flows and how it works—its capability and its limits—as well as the order of creation, life, and death. All our work, my mother said, is represented by the Grace, guided by it, and ultimately must be governed by it.”
“That’s what I learned as well,” Richard said. “By allowing myself to flow along those lines of the gift as represented by the Grace, I’ve found that healing most injuries is basically the same process. If you let the person’s need guide you, then through your gift you can feel what is necessary. Through your empathy you lift away the hurt and hold it within yourself so that the healing power of your gift can then flow into the person you’re helping. I have always found that the person’s need actually guides me, draws me onward toward it.”
Except that for some reason his gift had stopped working.
The girl frowned. “I think I know what you mean. My mother had me feel deep down into people, feel the trouble within them.”
“And did she teach you to lift that pain out of them and take it into yourself?”
Sammie hesitated. “Yes. But I was afraid. It’s hard when you can feel the pain they feel. I’ve done that. I’ve felt what they felt, though it was for smaller injuries. Then I try to lift it away from them and, like you say, let the warmth of the gift flow from me and into them to heal them.”
Richard was nodding as she spoke. “That’s been my experience as well.”
“But you said that you have healed people when they have been at the boundaries of the Grace, when they have been crossing over into the world of the dead. You have flowed along those lines of the Grace that flow into the world of the dead.”
It didn’t sound at all like a question so much as a lecture for doing things she had been taught were forbidden.
“You would be surprised, Sammie, what you would do for ones you love.” He again looked over at Kahlan. “I love her very much and I’m afraid for her, but this time I don’t have the strength for the sustained effort needed to heal her. Can you do that for her?”
Sammie’s gaze glided over to watch Ester gently cleaning blood from Kahlan’s face. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know for sure. A Hedge Maid had captured her and was starting to drink her blood and—”
“Jit?” Sammie abruptly leaned toward him, her eyes intent. “Are you talking about Jit?” When Richard nodded she asked, “How did you ever manage to get away from the Hedge Maid?”
“I killed her.”
“Indeed he did,” Ester said back over her shoulder. She dipped the cloth in the bucket and then wrung red water out of it. “That’s how they were both hurt,” she said with a last look before going back to her work cleaning Kahlan’s wounds.
Sammie seemed not to notice Ester. She instead stared in wonder at Richard.
“Then you really are a protector of your people.” She caught herself, glanced at Ester busy with her work, then leaned closer to Richard and spoke confidentially. “You are the one.”
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Richard didn’t know what she meant about him being the one. He was having enough trouble remaining upright and besides, he had far greater concerns at the moment.
“Will you help Kahlan, then? I need you to help us both, but I want you to help Kahlan first. I need to know that she’s out of danger.”
Anxiety tightened the gentle features of Sammie’s face. “She’s the Mother Confessor.”
Richard wasn’t sure exactly what she was getting at. “That’s right.”
Sammie winced a little with a sideways look, apparently fearful of posing the question. “Won’t I, well, you know, won’t I be harmed by her power? When I go down into the essence of who she is, won’t I be taken by her Confessor power?”
Richard was shaking his head even before she had finished the question.
“No, it doesn’t work that way.”
“How can you be sure? You said that you don’t know a lot about magic.”
“Because besides me, both a wizard and a sorceress have healed her before. None of us were harmed. In fact, a sorceress was in the process of healing her earlier today, but we were attacked before she was able to finish.
“Kahlan’s power won’t harm you. It’s not a danger for you to heal her. So, will you do it?”
Sammie pressed her lips tight. Her mouth contorted as she weighed her inner doubts. She finally nodded.
“I’ll try, Lord Rahl. I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
Sammie squatted down beside Ester and leaned in over Kahlan. She turned her head to get a better view as she looked down at Kahlan’s still face.
“She’s very beautiful,” Sammie said back over her shoulder.
Richard nodded, trying to be understanding of Sammie’s young age and not show his tense impatience. He was afraid that if he wasn’t careful he might frighten her and then she wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly on the job ahead of her. With his stomach in knots and Kahlan’s life hanging in the balance, it wasn’t easy to show the girl a calm expression.
“She is beautiful on the inside, too,” he said. “Right now she needs help. It’s up to us to give her that help.
“Maybe you should start out with the small things, first. Maybe concentrate on healing some of the cuts on her arms. That way you will be doing what you know. After you get comfortable with what it feels like to be healing her, then you can move on and deal with her bigger problem.”
Sammie nodded, liking the suggestion. “That sounds like the guidance my mother would give.”
She gently took hold of the older woman’s elbow and urged her back. Ester moved out of the way, pulling the bucket of bloody water with her.
“Take your time and think it through, child,” Ester told her. “Your mother taught you well. I know that you can do it.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” Sammie said as she rested a hand on Kahlan’s abdomen, feeling her slow breathing. “I hope it’s enough,” she whispered to herself.
Ester stood off to the side, watching nervously. “Your mother would be proud of you, Sammie. She would say that you can do it, and that it’s in your hands now.”
Sammie, already concentrating on what she needed to do, answered with an absent nod. She momentarily touched various wounds along Kahlan’s arms, evaluating them with her gift. Her fingers tested the place on Kahlan’s stomach that had already been mostly healed by Zedd. Her hand lingered there, as if inspecting the work, perhaps hoping to learn from it.
Finally, Sammie scooted around so that she was kneeling above Kahlan’s head. Leaning in, Sammie pulled wet strands of Kahlan’s hair aside and then pressed her hands to Kahlan’s temples. Her splayed fingers lying along Kahlan’s cheeks were so small and frail-looking that Richard feared she didn’t have the strength needed for such a difficult task, to say nothing of the experience to accomplish it.
He reminded himself that he had healed people without any experience or training. He supposed that in that respect Sammie was more knowledgeable than he was. Still, it was Kahlan, and he couldn’t seem to quiet his worry, or his racing heart.
The girl’s eyes rolled back in her head as her eyelids slid closed. Still holding Kahlan between her hands, Sammie stretched her arms out straight as her head tilted back in the effort of calling for the needed strength.
Richard had learned some time back that he had the unique ability to see the gift radiating power around sorceresses. He could see that aura of power around Sammie as she opened herself up to her gift. The aura looked like shimmering, colored distortions to the air around her, something like the heat waves above a campfire.
Richard had seen the auras of gifted people before. It was reassuring to see such a marker of gifted power glimmering in the air around Sammie. While Sammie’s aura wasn’t nearly as strong as many he had seen, and especially not as powerful as that of a sorceress such as Nicci, it was definitely the gift he was seeing warming the glow around the girl.
He hoped that power would be enough.
Richard listened to the soft hiss of the candles as Sammie leaned forward again and bowed her head in concentration. He knew what she was experiencing, what it felt like to let yourself dissolve down into the person you were trying to help, to immerse yourself in their being, to be intimately close to their innermost self. He watched as the flames of the candles slowly wavered and the wax dripped down from time to time as they burned. He wondered all the while what Sammie was experiencing, what she was feeling within Kahlan.
Several of the candles in the room abruptly extinguished at the exact same instant. Richard’s gaze darted around the small room, searching shadows.
Sammie shrieked and leaped to her feet.
Richard sprang up in surprise. Ester shrank back.
Before he could ask her what was wrong, Sammie began screaming in a high-pitched shriek born of what looked to be unbridled panic. Arms flailing, she retreated blindly until her back smacked into the stone wall. In the grip of terror, still screaming, unable to back away any farther, she clawed at the air while shrieking in fright. Her head twisted from side to side as if she did not want to look at what she was seeing.
The shrill screech was painful. Ester fearfully backed away as far as she could. As Sammie turned to run for the doorway, Richard caught her, closing his arms tightly around her slender body to keep her from getting away. Her spindly arms thrashed frantically, as if she was trying to escape something only she could see. She screamed in unbridled terror the whole time, twisting madly in Richard’s arms as she fought to escape.
Richard cocooned the squirming girl until he finally gathered her wildly flailing arms and pinned them to her sides.
“Sammie, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I saw it in her …”
“It’s all right. You’re safe, now. What did you see?”
When she turned in his arms and pushed at him, crying hysterically as she again tried to get away, Richard grabbed her firmly by the sides of her shoulders to keep her right where she was. Despite his injuries, she was no match for his muscle.
“Sammie, tell me what you saw!”
“I saw …” was all she could get out between sobs.
Richard shook her. “Sammie, stop it. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you.” He shook her again. “Stop it now. Lives are at stake—your mother’s life could very well be at stake. You need to get control of yourself and tell me what’s going on. I can’t help fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong. Now tell me what you saw in Kahlan.”
Sammie, tears coursing down her face, shook from head to toe.
“I saw what is in her,” she sobbed.
“What do you mean? What did you see in her?”
Sammie’s face contorted in horror. “I saw death.”
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Again Sammie tried to turn away. Again Richard turned her back.
“What do you mean, you saw death? You need to get yourself under control and talk to me. What do you mean?”
Panting in fear, Sammie swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. She gulped a few quick breaths and pointed, as if it was plain as day, as if he should be able to see it, too.
“She has death in her.”
As she again tried to twist away, Richard tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Calm down. Take a deep breath. Kahlan is unconscious. She can’t hurt you. I’m here with you. I need you to explain what you’re talking about so that we can figure out what you saw. Kahlan is alive. She’s not dead.”
Sammie’s face wrinkled up as tears sprang anew. “But I saw—”
“You’re a sorceress,” he said in a firm voice. “Act like one. Your mother is gone. She may need help, too. This is important. She would want you to stand in her place and do what is needed. You can do that, I know you can.”
Sammie sniffled, trying her best to hold back her tears. She finally nodded.
Ester laid a hand on the girl’s back. “You’re safe, Sammie. Do as Lord Rahl says, now.”
Sammie’s lower lip trembled. She looked from Ester back to Richard.
“Is that what my father saw when he died? Is that what it’s like? Did he have to face that? Did my mother see that too? Is that what we all face when we die?”
Richard squeezed her shoulders in sympathy and spoke softly. “I’m sorry, Sammie, but I can’t answer that. I don’t know what we see when we die. I don’t know what you saw in Kahlan. Now, take a deep breath.”
She took two.
“Better?”
She nodded as she pushed her thatch of dark hair back from the sides of her face.
“All right,” Richard said, “now explain to me what happened.”
Sammie took another steadying breath and then flicked a hand toward Kahlan. “I was connected to her, feeling her pain—you know, the pain of her smaller injuries, like you suggested. I was, well, I was trying to gather up a lot of that pain, collect it, and take it into myself.”
“I understand,” Richard said as he cautiously released her shoulders. “Then what?”
Sammie put one hand on a hip as she pressed the trembling fingers of her other hand to her forehead, trying to remember what had happened. “Well, I don’t know exactly. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Do your best, child,” Ester urged.
Sammie glanced at her and then looked up at Richard’s eyes. “Do you know the way the sensation of beginning to do a healing is like being caught up in a flow that draws you in, draws you deeper, seeking more of the trouble within the person?”
“Yes, I know what you mean,” Richard said. “It’s like you lose your sense of who you are as you become more and more focused on them and their pain. It feels like you are dissolving into the other person, losing yourself as you slip down into who they are. It seems to gather power from you and in that way pulls you onward.”
Sammie was nodding as he spoke. “That’s what it felt like. When I’ve healed other people, though, I wasn’t pulled in like that. This was stronger than I’ve ever felt before.”
“That’s most likely because they weren’t as badly hurt. It’s the need that draws you toward it. The more serious the trouble, the stronger the need, so the more powerfully it pulls you in. You don’t need to be afraid of that sensation. From what I know, that’s not unusual.”
“That wasn’t the frightening part,” Sammie said as she cast a worried look at Kahlan. Her lower lip started quivering again. She seemed transfixed, unable to look away from Kahlan lying so still on the lambskin.
Richard put a finger under Sammie’s chin and turned her face back toward his. “Go on. Tell me what you saw.”
Sammie knitted her fingers together as she frowned while recalling the experience. “When I started slipping down into her, I began to be drawn in faster and faster. It took me deeper than I had expected. I realized that I wasn’t trying to go down into her, it was just that something kept pulling me down. It was like losing my footing as I slid down a steep, slippery slope.”
“I told you, that’s pretty normal.”
“That’s what I thought at first. But I soon realized that I wasn’t simply going down into her need the way I have with others I’ve healed. I wasn’t just being pulled in. I was being drawn toward something.”
“Toward something? Toward what?” Richard asked.
“Something dark. Something dark and sinister. As I got closer, I heard voices.”
That was something Richard had not expected. “Voices? What kind of voices?”
“At first I didn’t know what the sound was. At first it was a distant buzzing. As I sank ever faster toward the darkness within her, I realized that what I was hearing were screams.”
Richard frowned. “Screams? I don’t understand. What do you mean, you were hearing screams? How could you hear screams?”
Sammie stared off, as if experiencing it again. “It was like a thousand screams all melted together.” She shook her head at her own description, or maybe in an effort to escape the memory. She looked back up at him. “No, not like a thousand. Like a million. Like a million million. It was like an infinite number of screams welling up from a dark place. They were the most horrific, terrifying, anguished screams you can imagine. The kind of screams that seemed as if they might sear the flesh from your bones.”
Richard couldn’t help glancing back down at Kahlan. “Did you see anything?” he asked. “Did you see where these screams were coming from?”
Sammie twisted her hands, bending her fingers as she tried to find words. “I, I was being pulled toward darkness. But then I saw that it wasn’t darkness, exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was more like a writhing mass of forms. That was where the screams were coming from. A turning, churning, tumbling mass of spirits that were all wriggling, struggling, squirming, and screaming at once.”
Richard stood stunned, unable to imagine what was going on.
Sammie looked frustrated trying to come up with the right words for what she had seen. “I’m sorry that I can’t explain it very well, but when I saw it, felt it, I knew that it was death I was seeing. It was death itself. I knew it, that’s all.”
Richard made himself take a breath. “That certainly sounds frightening, and while I can’t explain it, that doesn’t mean that it was death you were seeing.”
Sammie tilted her head to the side as she frowned up at him. “But it was, Lord Rahl. I know it was.”
Richard was impatient to get the young sorceress back to the task of healing Kahlan, but he reminded himself that he had to be understanding of not only her age and inexperience, but her fears. This was all new to her, and her mother was not there to help her. He suspected that she was simply misinterpreting the pain resulting from the seriousness of Kahlan’s injuries.
“Sammie, it was probably the terrible pain, the profound hurt within Kahlan, that you were encountering. I’ve healed grievously injured people before, so I know how frightening it can be. Being immersed in their suffering is a dark and daunting experience. Time seems to stop. The world of life can seem distant. Lost in that strange place with their pain, you know that what is hurting them could kill them, and only you can stop it. You know that they’re facing death if you can’t help them.”
“No,” Sammie insisted as she shook her head. “When I looked through that shimmering green curtain, I knew I was looking beyond the veil into the world of the dead.”
Richard froze still as stone. The room seemed too quiet, too small, too hot.
“What did you say?”
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “When I looked beyond that curtain, I knew that I was looking beyond the veil into—”
“You said it was green.”
Sammie’s brow bunched as she fought back new tears. “That’s right.”
“Why would you say it’s green?”
Perplexed, she frowned up at him. “Because it was. It was like a shimmering green curtain of fog. It rippled, brighter and darker, something like a wispy, sheer, transparent green curtain moving in a breath of breeze. It’s kind of hard to describe.
“Beyond that awful veil of green I saw what looked to me like a churning mass of spirits. They were all screaming as if in terrible agony. That was the sound I heard. Some of the forms ripped apart as they screamed, while yet more of them constantly boiled up from the blackness below to take the place of those that disintegrated, in turn adding their ghastly screams to the sea of souls, all fusing into one, long, hopeless cry.
“Some of them saw me and tried to grab for me, but they couldn’t reach through that green veil. Others beckoned me to come to them instead. It was death calling to me, trying to pull me in.”
Richard turned and stared down at Kahlan. He had encountered the underworld a number of times. The veil before the world of the dead was always an eerie green color.
He slowly sank to his knees beside the unconscious form of the woman he loved more than life itself. “Dear spirits, what is going on?”
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What is it?” Ester looked back and forth between Sammie and Kahlan. “Lord Rahl, what is it? Do you know what it means? Do you know what’s wrong with her?”
Instead of answering, Richard laid a hand on Kahlan’s shoulder, feeling her warmth, her breathing, the life in her. Despite how sick he felt, he ignored his own pain. She was in grave trouble and needed help. She needed gifted help.
She needed more help than Sammie was able to give.
He shut himself off from everything around him as he retreated into the calm center within himself. The people outside in the corridors and rooms of the cliff dwelling no longer seemed at all close. The faint undertone of their voices gradually faded away. Ester’s and Sammie’s voices became distant murmurs as he focused on what needed to be done, on what Kahlan needed done.
In that inner silence, he sought to release himself into Kahlan to heal her, or at least to try to sense what the problem was. He wanted to see it for himself. He wanted to deal with it himself. He wanted to extinguish that hidden terror. Most of all, he wanted to take away her pain. He ached to see her open her eyes and smile up at him.
Even though he had healed Kahlan before when she had been grievously hurt, this time as he tried desperately to call forth that healing ability within himself, he couldn’t seem to find the way to do it. It didn’t exactly feel as if he was having difficulty recalling how to heal—it felt more like he had never known how to do it. It was maddening to feel like he knew where he wanted to go, to know that he had been there before, but not to be able to find the path back.
Whatever he had done in the past to heal people seemed simply to no longer be there. If he didn’t know better, he would think that he had never healed anyone before. He couldn’t imagine what component was missing, or how to find it.
Where he should have felt his inner empathy coming to the surface to take him into Kahlan’s suffering, he felt nothing.
As desperate as he was to help her, he realized that wasn’t the only trouble on his hands.
He knew without a doubt that he should have at least felt something, but he didn’t. He remembered all too well that it had been much the same back at the wagon when he had reached down inside himself to call on his gift to help him protect Kahlan from those men. Nothing had happened then, either. If there was ever a case where his gift should have worked, it would be to protect her and to heal her.
It wasn’t that he was simply too injured himself or too weak to heal her. He knew now that something more was going on. Whatever the problem, he didn’t know how to compensate for it.
His level of fear and alarm rose as he wondered if his gift was gone.
In place of the healing power of his gift that he should have felt, he realized that he could hear the slightest of sounds. As he concentrated on listening, trying to hear what it was, his blood ran cold as he realized that it sounded like distant screams.
He didn’t know if those screams were coming from something he felt in Kahlan … or in himself. He wondered if he might be imagining it. He couldn’t help feeling haunted by the things Sammie had told him she had experienced.
He fought back a rising sense of panic. He had told Sammie to calm down, that panic wouldn’t help. He knew that he had to take his own advice. He had to think if he was to act effectively.
For whatever reason, what he was doing to try to heal Kahlan was not working. He opened his eyes, rose up, and took a long stride back to the girl.
“Did you sense it in her, too?” Sammie asked.
Richard shook his head. “What else did you sense in her?”
Sammie looked confused by the question and intimidated by him towering over her. “Nothing. I was afraid. I drew back out of her.”
Richard turned to look down at Kahlan, pinching his lower lip as he thought it through.
Whatever was wrong with Kahlan, it had to have happened in the Hedge Maid’s lair. Whatever was wrong with him had started there as well. He and Kahlan had both been unconscious when Zedd, Nicci, and Cara found them.
Richard remembered killing the Hedge Maid. He had been warned that his sword, and his gift, would not work against her. The Omen machine, though, had given him a prophecy: Your only chance is to let the truth escape.
With that clue, he had realized that the way to stop that vile creature was to cut the leather strips sewing her mouth closed. Doing so had caused her to release an inner scream held back for most of her life by those leather strips. It had brought about the release of the corruption and death that had been contained and festering within her.
First, though, knowing what he had been about to do, Richard had wadded up small pieces of cloth and stuffed them in Kahlan’s and his own ears to keep both of them from hearing that malevolent cry born in the world of the dead—to prevent them from hearing the call of death itself.
At least, he thought it had kept them from hearing it.
He turned back to Sammie. “I need you to use your gift on me, the way you did when you tried to heal Kahlan. I need to know if you can sense that same thing in me that you sensed in her.”
Sammie shook her head as she shrank back.
“Listen to me!” he yelled, freezing her in her tracks. “Lives are at stake. I’m not asking you to go beyond that green veil and cross over into what you sensed as death, but I need to know if the same thing you sensed in Kahlan is within me as well.”
When she again started backing away he grabbed her slender wrist. “Listen to me, Sammie. You were able to back out of Kahlan, weren’t you?”
Her eyes turned fearfully toward Kahlan. “Yes.”
“So then it can’t pull you in. Whatever you sensed in her doesn’t have the power to do that. You are in control. Even though you went down deep into her you pulled yourself back out, didn’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Didn’t you?” he repeated.
He knew that he was frightening her, but it couldn’t be helped.
“I suppose so,” she finally said.
“Then you are the one in control, not what you saw in her. That evil may try to pull you toward it, but you have free will and are able to resist that dark call. You make the choice not to be pulled in by evil.”
Sammie let her arm drop when he released her wrist. “I guess you’re right.”
“I know I am,” Richard said. “I know because you came back of your own free will. But I also know because others were healing Kahlan and me when we were attacked. They both have vast experience and know a great deal more about healing than either you or I will likely ever know. They would have sensed what was in her and they wouldn’t have been trying to heal her if it was a lethal trap.”
“But how can you be sure that they were healing her?”
“They healed the wound on her stomach.”
Sammie thought it over for a moment. “You’re right,” she finally admitted. “I felt that healing. I could tell that it was fresh, that not long before me someone else had been there healing her.”
“And they came back. You were able to come back, too. That means you are in control. You aren’t helpless to that call of death.”
She looked considerably more calm, even if she didn’t look at ease. “That makes sense.”
Richard took a step closer to her. “I need you to check me. I need to know if that same sickness is in me.”
She appraised his eyes for a moment with a look that was well beyond her years.
“You suspect that you have the same thing in you that she has in her, and you think that may be what’s keeping your gift from working,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
Richard arched an eyebrow, then sat on the floor and crossed his legs. “Come on. Do it now. I need to know.”
Sammie let out a frustrated sigh, then gave in and sat before him. She followed Richard’s gaze to see a cat that had just sauntered into the room, peeking in the dark places behind the pillows against the far wall the way cats liked to do.
“I think that the cat sensed what I saw in the Mother Confessor,” Sammie said.
“The cat?”
She nodded as she crossed her legs, the way he had done. “My mother says that cats are sensitive to spirits, to things from the world of the dead.”
Richard looked at the girl for a moment without saying anything, then held his hands out. “Take my hands. Try to heal a few of my wounds. Do what you did with Kahlan.”
Sammie gave in with a sigh and finally took his hands. Richard, having trouble holding his left arm up, rested his forearms across his knees. His bite wound had started bleeding again.
Her hands looked tiny holding his. It occurred to him that right then, despite her young age and her inexperience, she wielded more power than he did. Not a comforting thought.
The girl closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. Richard did the same, hoping to help her do her job. Ester stood off to the side wringing her hands as she watched.
Richard tried not to think about what Sammie was doing, about what she might find. Instead, he thought about Zedd, Nicci, Cara, and Cara’s husband, Ben, the general who had led the troops to come find Richard and Kahlan. Richard needed to know what had happened to them. They would never have willingly left him and Kahlan to their fate.
He remembered the bones and remnants of uniforms. He remembered what the two men had said, that those with Richard and Kahlan had been attacked by people called the Shun-tuk. He remembered seeing masses of dead attackers. He remembered the vulgar visage of one of those dead whose bloodstained teeth had all been filed to points to better rip into flesh.
With the Hedge Maid dead, he had thought that the battle was over. It appeared that it had only just begun. Something more was going on. Something more than he understood.
He needed to find answers and he knew that time was working against everyone. If those people he cared so much about were in the hands of the Shun-tuk, then every day that went by made their survival less likely. The longer Kahlan went without gifted help, the worse he feared she was going to get. He was not much better off himself.
These people, too, the people of Stroyza, were in trouble, probably a great deal more trouble than they realized. They were used to the harsh conditions and dangers of the Dark Lands, but these savages who ate human flesh appeared to be something new.
Sammie gasped suddenly and yanked her hands back, releasing his as if they had burst into flames.
Richard leaned in. “What did you see?”
Sammie’s eyes were wide with terror and brimming with tears. Her breathing was ragged and quick.
“I felt your pain,” she whispered. “Dear spirits, how can you stand it?”
“I don’t have a choice. The lives of those I love and the people I am sworn to protect are at stake. That’s what matters to me the most at the moment. Now, what else did you feel?”
Sammie swiped tears from under her eyes. “I felt the same thing, Lord Rahl. You have the same thing in you as the Mother Confessor. Death, behind the veil of green. You both have death in you.”
Richard couldn’t say that he was surprised. He hadn’t really expected anything different. Both he and Kahlan had been exposed to the Hedge Maid’s screams, screams that had been unleashed from the underworld itself.
He looked up at Ester’s ashen face. “Bring Henrik to me.”
“You want the boy?” she looked confused. “Now? Lord Rahl, your wounds must be tended to. Your arm is bleeding again and it must—”
“Now,” Richard said.
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Richard turned from Kahlan’s unconscious form when he heard the sound of feet shuffling out in the passageway. Ester lifted the sheepskin out of the way for Henrik to duck in under it. When the boy saw Richard, he smiled, but the smile clearly betrayed his worry.
Richard returned the smile, trying to convey a sense of his own worry. “Thanks for coming, Henrik. Come, sit by me.”
Henrik cautiously sat on the floor, close to Richard and Sammie. His eyes, reflecting points of candlelight, lingered on Kahlan. He would be dead if not for her coming into Jit’s lair and freeing him.
“Is the Mother Confessor going to be all right, Lord Rahl?”
Richard shook his head. “I don’t know yet. We don’t know enough about exactly what’s wrong with her. I’m hoping that you can fill in some of the blanks and tell me something that will help us to know how to heal her.”
“I don’t know much about sickness and such, but I don’t think you can heal her.”
Richard was taken by surprise. “Why do you say that?”
“Because of what I overheard Zedd and Nicci talking about. They said that they could only hope to help both of you temporarily, until they could get you back to the People’s Palace.”
Puzzled, Sammie scooted a little closer. “The People’s Palace? Really? A palace? Did you hear why?”
Henrik nodded.
Seeing that they would be busy in conversation, Ester took the opportunity to pull the bucket of water and the bandages closer so that she could go back to her work on Kahlan’s wounds.
Richard lifted a hand, stopping Henrik from answering Sammie’s question. “I need you to start at the beginning. Tell me everything that happened. It’s important that we know all the details. Don’t leave anything out. Sometimes the little details have meaning that you may not realize are important, but I would.”
Richard couldn’t help thinking of all the times Zedd had told him the same thing. Zedd always wanted every little detail. Richard felt a little uncomfortable finding himself repeating those same things that he used to find so frustrating when Zedd had insisted on them.
Henrik pushed his disorderly fall of hair back from his eyes. “Well, the Mother Confessor came in and cut me out of the walls made of thorny vines that the Hedge Maid had used to imprison me, but then Jit showed up and captured her right as I was able to escape—but you already know that much of it because I ran into you as I was running out of Jit’s lair.
“You told me that your friends were on their way from the People’s Palace to help you, and you asked me to go and tell them where you and the Mother Confessor were. So I kept running and not too long after that I found the whole column of cavalry accompanying Zedd, Nicci, and Cara. They were pretty impatient to find you both. I told them where you were, and that Jit had the Mother Confessor. I told them that you were going to go in to save her.
“I went with them so I could show them the way. When we finally got to the Hedge Maid’s place we found you and the Mother Confessor inside. Jit was dead. She looked like her whole body had been torn apart from the inside. There was blood everywhere. It was a frightful sight.
“You and the Mother Confessor were both unconscious and bleeding badly. After Cara and the soldiers cut you out of the thorny vines where the Hedge Maid had you both trapped, Zedd burned that awful place to the ground. It was strange seeing such a fire burning in the middle of a watery swamp. It was a fierce fire. It lit the bottoms of the clouds. There’s not a scrap of Jit’s place left.”
“I’m glad to hear that much of it,” Richard said half to himself. “Then what?”
Henrik’s mouth twisted a little as he frowned in recollection. “The soldiers laid you both in the back of a wagon. Cara was so angry that you and the Mother Confessor were hurt that she looked ready to spit fire herself.”
Richard couldn’t help smiling. “I can only imagine.” His smile faded when he thought about the danger Cara and the rest of them were in. He needed to find them, and soon.
“Go on.”
“With the cavalry leading, we started back, headed for the People’s Palace,” Henrik said. “Zedd and Nicci were tending to the both of you. At first, Zedd was really upset about how badly you were both hurt.
“As they were walking along beside the wagon, Zedd found a little wad of rolled-up cloth in your ear. Nicci found the same thing in Kahlan’s ears. She said ‘No wonder they’re alive.’
“Zedd didn’t understand. Nicci told him that it was said that the scream of a Hedge Maid, if she were ever to open her mouth all the way and let it out, was the sound of the Keeper of the underworld himself. Nicci said that the sound of such a scream would pull the Hedge Maid and anyone who hears it into the underworld. She said that the unleashed scream of a Hedge Maid is death, even to herself, so at a young age, before they can fully develop a voice capable of calling death into the world of life, a Hedge Maid’s mother sews her lips shut with leather strips imbued with occult powers that hold death back.
“Nicci said that she suspected that you both were alive because you stuffed those wads of cloth in your ears and that shielded you from the full power of that scream.
“Zedd wanted to know how she knew so much about such things. Nicci said that she knew because she had once been a Sister of the Dark serving the Keeper of the underworld. She said that Hedge Maids were vile creatures who use a kind of occult conjuring that is directly linked to the world of the dead.
“She said that such powers were a perversion of the Grace and as such not able to be touched by regular gifted ability. She said that was what made a Hedge Maid so dangerous, that Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor would have no power against her.
“Nicci explained to them, then, how you both were touched not just by the Hedge Maid’s occult conjuring and the things she was doing to you, but more importantly you were both touched by her scream. She said that through that scream you both were touched by death itself and therefore infected with it.”
Sammie gave Richard a look, as if to say “I told you so.”
Richard rolled his hand for Henrik to go on.
“Well, Zedd didn’t exactly believe everything Nicci was telling him about the power of such a scream born in the underworld and death infecting you both.”
“Sound familiar?” Sammie asked under her breath.
Richard gave her a sideways look but didn’t say anything.
Henrik was involved in his story and didn’t hear her. “So Nicci put two fingers on Kahlan’s head. She told Zedd, ‘Here, see for yourself.’ He leaned in and put two fingers on Kahlan’s head next to Nicci’s fingers. She asked if he felt it.
“Zedd said that he felt some kind of frightening, deathly darkness. Nicci told him that what he was feeling was the touch of death from the Hedge Maid that you both carried in you.”
“Just like I said,” Sammie noted.
Richard nodded. “You were right.”
She smiled at the triumph as Henrik continued his story.
“Zedd was really afraid because of what he’d felt in Kahlan. Cara got scared, too. She asked if you both were going to die because you had death hiding in you. Nicci said not if she had anything to do with it.
“Nicci said that you both were only alive because the wads of cloth you had stuffed in your ears blunted the full sounds of death’s call, but it still had infected you both.”
“Did they say how to heal them?” Sammie asked, suddenly excited about the possibility of having an answer to the riddle.
“Nicci said that she thought she could do it, but that it had to be done in something called a containment field.”
Richard felt as if the floor fell out from under him. It was no longer a simple matter of being healed by a gifted person. This was no simple injury. It was going to take more than a simple healing if the real threat within them was to be addressed.
“A containment field?” Sammie’s nose wrinkled up. “What’s a containment field?”
Henrik shrugged with the discomfort of not having the answer for her.
“It’s a place that keeps any foreign spells out while you work on or open up dangerous forms of magic,” Richard told her. “More importantly, though, it also keeps contained those things you unleash—either intentionally or accidentally. Things you wouldn’t want escaping.”
Sammie looked stunned by the description. “Where can we get one of these containment fields? How do you make one?”
“They’re ancient,” Richard said. “As far as I know, they were made ages ago by powerful wizards. I only know of a few, and they’re thousands of years old.”
“There’s one at the People’s Palace,” Henrik said.
“That’s right,” Richard said as he nodded. “The Garden of Life is a containment field.”
Henrik squinted as he tried to recount it all accurately. “Nicci told Zedd that she needed a containment field to shield you and the Mother Confessor while she did what was needed. She said that she had to remove the touch of death lodged within you both.
“She said that because the Grace was corrupted and twisted within you both by that infection, if they tried to remove it outside a containment field, then the call of death would draw the Keeper of the dead to you and both of you would die. She said that they could heal your other injuries, though, and they should do that right away to keep you alive until they could get back to the containment field.”
Sammie was astonished by such exotic tales. “I would love to see a palace. I bet it’s magnificent. I never heard of a containment field before. What does it look like?”
Richard gestured overhead. “This particular one at the People’s Palace is a beautiful garden with a glass roof and—”
“Glass roof!” Sammie’s jaw fell open. “I’ve never even dreamed of such an incredible thing. I’d give anything to see such a grand palace.”
“Maybe someday you can,” Richard said. He was impatient for Henrik to go on with the story. “Then what?”
“Zedd said that they needed to hurry back to the palace, because you were both hurt so bad. He bent in over Kahlan, worried about the terrible wound on her stomach. Bouncing in the wagon made it open up and it was bleeding a lot. While he started to heal her, Nicci walked along on the other side of the wagon and reached down to start healing you, Lord Rahl.
“Cara was relieved to see that Zedd and Nicci were finally working on healing you both, so she got up into the wagon’s seat and sat next to her husband, General Meiffert. She helped pull me up to sit next to her while Zedd and Nicci worked.”
“So why didn’t they finish healing us?” Richard asked. “What happened to everyone?”
Henrik looked like he wished he didn’t have to tell that part of the story.
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Henrik’s face turned grim as he stared off into his memories.
“Well,” he said at last as he went on with the account, “we were going as fast as General Meiffert said he dared push the horses. Everyone was worried about you and the Mother Confessor and they all wanted to get you out of the Dark Lands and back to the palace.
“Zedd and Nicci both had to climb up in the wagon so they could work on healing you. Zedd cursed, then, and told them that they were going to have to slow down because the Mother Confessor was hurt bad and he needed to close up the wound, but he couldn’t do it when the wagon was bouncing around.”
“Did they say anything at all about what they were going to do to heal them?” Sammie asked the boy as she eagerly leaned in. “Did they say how they were able to do it with that touch of death in them?”
Henrik shook his head. “I don’t know anything about healing or how magic works. I only know that I heard Nicci say to Zedd that they could heal the injuries, but would have to leave the touch of death in them until they got to the palace and the containment field.”
“That much of it is good news,” Richard told Sammie. “It confirms what I thought, that you can do a healing of the other problems even with what you saw in us.”
She nodded in thought as she listened to Henrik go on.
“It was getting dark. Zedd and Nicci bent over you both, using their gift to heal you.” As he stared off into his memories again, his voice occasionally broke. “As they worked, everyone else was keeping a close watch on the surrounding countryside. The Dark Lands are a dangerous enough place in the daylight, but everyone knows that out here you don’t want to be outside at night if you can help it.”
Henrik idly fingered the edge of the coarse carpet they were sitting on. “I guess we couldn’t help it.”
“I guess not,” Richard said, feeling guilty for being the one responsible for bringing his friends into the Dark Lands to help him.
“We were going along for a while without talking, going pretty slow as Zedd had instructed so he and Nicci could concentrate on trying to heal both of you. Then, all of a sudden, they both looked up.”
“At the same time?” Sammie asked.
Henrik nodded.
“If they both looked up at the same time it must be because they sensed something through their gift,” Sammie said to Richard.
Richard only nodded, not wanting to interrupt Henrik’s story.
“Zedd whispered to the general, up on the wagon seat on the other side of Cara from me, that there were people out there in the darkness. The general asked how many people. Zedd paused a moment, and then said, ‘A lot of people.’ I looked around but I couldn’t see anyone.”
Henrik stared off into the distance, as if seeing it in his mind’s eye again. “Even though I couldn’t see them, it seemed as though I could feel their eyes watching us from back in the darkness of the trees. There was forest all around, and it gave whatever Zedd and Nicci sensed plenty of places to hide.
“With the clouds, the moon didn’t provide much light. It was hard to see much of anything. Whoever was back in those dark woods, we couldn’t see them.”
Henrik swallowed. “I was afraid. Really afraid. I think everyone kind of knew that we might be in some kind of trouble, but no one knew what to expect. I saw some of the soldiers get a better grip on their lances while others touched their swords, all of them making sure that their weapons were ready.
“Then, all of a sudden, we saw movement off at the tree line to the right. Even as dark as it was, there was still enough light that we were able to see masses of people as they poured out of the woods. None of them made a sound as they came rushing out of the trees. They weren’t yelling battle cries or anything. That silence from those people made it even more frightening to watch them coming. There were so many that it looked like the ground was moving. I was scared to death.
“Cara asked her husband if we shouldn’t try running with the wagon. Before the general could answer, Zedd spoke up to say that we couldn’t outrun them. He said that they were out ahead of us as well as behind. He said we were surrounded.
“The soldiers pulled their horses around to shield the wagon. All the lancers formed an outer ring and lowered their lances toward the advancing horde. It was hard to imagine anyone trying to run up on those lancers.
“At the same time, other men, in an inner ring behind the lancers, drew their swords. Yet others pulled battle-axes from hooks on their weapon belts. There weren’t a lot of soldiers with us and seeing how many people were rushing in toward us I wished there were more, but they were D’Haran soldiers, after all. Seeing all those big men draw their weapons made me think that maybe we had a chance.”
They would not have been regular D’Haran soldiers. Richard knew that the men who had come from the palace with Zedd, Nicci, and Cara would have been men of the First File. The First File, led by General Meiffert, were the Lord Rahl’s personal guards at the People’s Palace. They weren’t simply the biggest and best of the D’Haran troops, they were the elite fighters. They were disciplined, skilled in combat, and prepared to fight. They lived for just this sort of duty. They had competed all their lives to earn their place at the point of the spear.
“Zedd stood up in the wagon trying to see better,” Henrik said. “Nicci stood up too, growling in anger over having to stop working on healing you, Lord Rahl, saying that she needed more time. As people kept streaming out of the woods, all of them running toward us, Zedd told her that it looked to him like their time had run out.
“General Meiffert told his men that he didn’t want to stand and fight, but it looked like they were going to have to. Cara suggested putting you and the Mother Confessor over the back of horses. She said she and a couple soldiers could run for safety while the rest of the soldiers held the horde at bay. Zedd said in a low voice that it was a bad idea. When she asked why, he said that the worst thing you could do was run from predators because it excited them to chase. He said that there were people coming in from all directions and they would run down anyone who tried to get away.”
The room was dead silent except for the soft, sputtering hiss of the candle flames. Sammie sat frozen, wide-eyed as she waited to hear what had happened next. Even Ester had stopped working. Her hand, holding a poultice, floated frozen above Kahlan.
“Then Zedd threw his hands toward the sky, sending up a flare of light,” Henrik said. “At first, as it rose high up into the air, it was only a spark, but then it exploded into a bright, sparkling fire that lit the countryside all around.”
Henrik’s eyes brimmed with tears. “In that flare of light, we could finally see the thousands and thousands coming for us. I saw not only men racing toward us, but women, too. Most of the men had no shirts and were bare-legged. I didn’t see any of them with swords or spears or shields. A lot of them had knives, though. So did the women. Our men were on horseback and had much better weapons. I would have felt better about that were we not so overwhelmingly outnumbered.
“The fire that Zedd had sent up started to die out, and it was getting harder to see all the people racing toward us. As they got even closer, he tried to send up another flare of fire to replace the one that was fading, but nothing happened. Nicci asked what was wrong. Zedd looked confused. He stammered and said that he didn’t know. So Nicci tried then, but it didn’t work for her, either.”
Henrik swallowed again and looked down for a moment. Richard put a hand on the boy’s shoulder but didn’t say anything, instead giving him the time to find his words.
Henrik cleared his throat. “When they were close enough that they would be able to hear him, the commander of the cavalry stood in his stirrups and yelled at the people running in toward us, warning them to stop, to stay back, or they would die. It didn’t do any good.
“All the people had been silent up till then, but after the general told them to stay back or they would die, they started yelling battle cries, like they were eager for such a fight. It wasn’t the battle cries of soldiers, but some kind of shrill shrieks. It sounded to me like they were evil spirits charging out from the world of the dead. Their yells all jumbled together into an eerie howl that made my hair stand on end.
“When General Meiffert saw that they weren’t going to stop, and we could see the knives raised, there was no doubt that they intended to attack us, so he ordered the cavalry to cut them down before they could get too close. About half the men raced away across the open ground while the other half shielded the wagon.
“The cavalry sliced into the leading edge of the swarm, cutting them down like scything down a wheat field at harvest. Even though it was dark, there was enough light from the moon that I could see people falling in great numbers.
“I was relieved, thinking that such powerful cavalrymen would cause the attackers to break and flee in fright. But then I saw that the enemy didn’t fear the men on horseback. Most didn’t even cry out as they were cut down. Even though the cavalry was slicing down hundreds of enemy, it seemed that for every one that fell ten more appeared out of the trees.
“Then I saw the first man unhorsed. He was a big man, fighting fiercely, cutting down attackers by the dozens as he charged through the leading edge of the enemy. Unafraid, the people paid no attention to the danger and swarmed in around him as he was attacking. He hacked them to pieces as they came. His horse trampled a number of them. But he was overwhelmed by the incredible numbers pressing in on him.
“There were so many people piling in that there was no room for all those who were trying to get at him. They swarmed in, climbing over the backs of others both living and dead, trying to be the first to get at him. People were trampled and crushed by their own kind. None of them seemed to care about the dead and dying. They only cared about getting at the man on horseback.
“Despite how the soldier and his powerful horse struggled and fought, the weight of all the people finally dragged the big animal to a stop. Even as other soldiers raced to try to help him, hacking at the enemy to get through, I saw dozens and dozens of arms flailing, stabbing at the horse until it went down.”
Henrik swallowed again, and again wiped at his eyes. “Then they all piled on the man like a pack of wolves. The thing was, they weren’t stabbing at him, like they had been stabbing at the horse.”
Sammie frowned when Henrik fell silent for a time. “What were they doing, then?”
Richard knew the answer. It had almost happened to him.
“The throng seized his arms, legs, even his hair, and from what I could see it looked like they were all ripping into him with their teeth. They were tearing into him like a pack of wolves on a lamb.”
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Sammie glanced at the bleeding bite wound on Richard’s arm. “Just like the way they were starting to use their teeth when they attacked you, Lord Rahl.”
“It would seem so,” Richard said, waiting for Henrik to gather his thoughts and go on.
Richard knew that what he was hearing from Henrik about the bizarre attack fit with what he had overheard from the two men who had attacked him. As he had been waking up, he heard them talking about the Shun-tuk eating people. He remembered all too well seeing human bones and parts of D’Haran uniforms not far from the wagon. He didn’t know how many more such remains there might have been out in the darkness. He feared to imagine.
From what Richard knew, as crazy as it sounded, the two men had thought they could somehow capture his soul by eating him. Had it not been for the people of Stroyza, they surely would have killed him in the attempt.
“I saw more of our men going down,” Henrik said, his jaw trembling. “I heard some of those men scream in pain as they were pulled from their horses and torn apart while they were still alive and struggling.”
“What about Zedd and Nicci?” Richard asked. “Weren’t they using their gift to try to stop this horde of people? I’ve seen Zedd use wizard’s fire on enemy troops. It’s devastating, even when the enemy was coming in great numbers like you describe. The two of them should have been able to do something.”
Henrik wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Zedd was trying, Lord Rahl. As the charge of all those people got closer, more of our men joined the battle to try to fight them back and keep them away from you and the Mother Confessor in the wagon. The soldiers fought fiercely but the swarm of people were all howling like demons that had escaped the underworld and they just kept coming.
“With all the yelling and screaming, it was hard to hear. But I did hear Zedd and Nicci talking. The two of them were pretty frantic to do something that would help keep the advancing people away. I don’t know much about such things and I didn’t hear all of what they were saying, but I could tell that they were both trying their best to conjure things and cast their power out to fight back the waves of people charging toward us. It seemed that nothing they were doing, though, was working the way they expected. I don’t know what was wrong, but I can tell you that as hard as they were trying, if their gift would have been working right they might have been able to stop the enemy.
“Sometimes, though, something they did would work. At least, it worked to a degree. When nothing else seemed to work, I saw both Zedd and Nicci push their arms out together, with their palms raised, as if pushing against an invisible wall. When they did that, occasionally groups of people were thrown back and tumbled across the ground, knocking down others behind them. It blew them back like leaves in a gust of wind. While it did work, it only worked against small numbers at a time. It was taking them a lot of effort to do that much but it wasn’t nearly enough to cope with the endless numbers that were racing toward us across the open ground.
“Zedd looked over at Cara, then, and told her what even I could see, that something was wrong with their abilities and it wasn’t going to be enough. The general said that above all else they had to protect you, Lord Rahl, and the Mother Confessor. He told Zedd, then, that if they all took a stand to defend the wagon, the people coming for them would know that we were protecting something important.
“Nicci asked what he was proposing. The general said that they had to abandon the wagon.
“I thought Cara might break his neck for saying that. She yelled at him, saying that as long as she was alive and could fight, she wouldn’t leave you for anything. He shouted her down, saying that if they left the wagon, like it didn’t mean anything to them, and instead made it look like they were running to try to escape, then the enemy would come after them and leave the wagon, thinking it was unimportant. He said that they appeared to want to attack and kill them. He said that they weren’t dying by the hundreds just to steal what looked to be nothing more than an empty wagon.
“Nicci said that he was right. Zedd said that he hated to admit it, but he agreed. He also said that they had better hurry and decide or it was going to be too late for the plan to do any good.
“Cara’s jaw was clenched so tight she couldn’t speak. Her face was as red as her leather outfit. Finally, she growled and leaped down into the bed of the wagon. She hurried to unfurl an old tarp that was shoved in the corner and with Nicci’s help pulled it out and along the wagon bed, covering up the both of you so that it looked like it was just a mostly empty supply wagon.”
Richard finally understood the mystery of why he and Kahlan were all alone in the back of the wagon, unconscious, lying under a tarp.
“I don’t know that I would have thought of doing that,” Richard said. “Ben is a general for good reason. So what happened next?”
“Cara lifted me off the wagon seat and set me down in the bed of the wagon with her. While her husband, Zedd, and Nicci jumped to the ground, she bent close and pointed her Agiel at my face. She told me to listen, and listen close. She quickly glanced toward a spot in the woods to the other side from most of the attackers, to where I didn’t see anyone.
“She leaned close again and asked if I saw the path into the woods. I didn’t see it, but I was afraid to say so. She said that she wanted me to run for that path and get away.”
“Run?” Sammie asked. “If there was a place where there were no people, then why didn’t all of you go that way and try to escape?”
“I asked her that. I begged her to come with me. She said that carrying Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor would slow them down and not only that, but they couldn’t see to run fast enough in the woods. She said that with that many of them running to try to escape they would be spotted and chased. She said they would be caught in there, and then the enemy would have Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor.
“She said that above all, saving you, Lord Rahl, and the Mother Confessor was what mattered to D’Hara and to the future of everyone.
“She told me that Benjamin was right, that this was the only chance they had to save you both, but they had to act fast. She said they would run in another direction making it look like they were trying to get away so that the people would chase after them and hopefully not even realize that the two of you had been left hidden in the abandoned wagon.
“I asked what was going to happen to her and the general, and Zedd and Nicci, and all the rest of the men.” Henrik paused briefly to choke back a sob. “Cara gritted her teeth and said they were doing what they had to do to protect you.”
Henrik dissolved into tears, choking back sobs. Sammie put a hand over his and softly told him that she understood. Her eyes, too, brimmed with tears. She told the boy that the same thing had happened to her father, and that her mother was missing. She told him that she knew what it felt like to hurt inside from losing people you loved.
Henrik was surprised to hear about her parents. He told her that he was sorry. Sammie squeezed his hand and told him that there was grave trouble at hand, and they all had to be brave.
When she asked, Henrik finally went on with the story. “Cara lifted me down over the side of the wagon and set me on the ground. The general yelled back to her from the other side of the wagon, telling her to hurry. She nodded then turned back to me.
“She pointed her Agiel at my face again and told me to run like the wind and get away. She told me that I had to get away so that I could find help for Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor. She said that they were all counting on me. She said that they would try to lead the enemy in the other direction to buy me time so that I could slip away through the woods and find help.
“I was terrified. I didn’t want to leave them. I asked what was going to happen to her and the others.
“She said not to worry about them. She said that my job was to run, to get away, and to find help. I stood there trembling, staring at her, unable to believe it was happening. Cara grabbed my jaw and said, ‘Run. Don’t look back. Don’t stop for anything. Get help for them. Understand?’ I nodded that I did. I couldn’t answer because I was too afraid to talk.
“Cara pointed off into the darkness with her Agiel and said, ‘Go!’ I turned to go, but then she grabbed my arm.
“I turned back and she was real close, looking right into my eyes. She said, ‘Don’t let us die for nothing, Henrik. Find them help no matter what. Make our lives count for something. Get them help.’ I said, ‘I promise, Cara.’
“As I turned to run, I saw her race around the wagon to join the others. And then they all ran, the howling enemy right on their heels.”
Henrik’s words dissolved into sobs.
Richard was in so much pain that his hands shook. His breathing was ragged. But the pain seemed distant in the numb haze of his grief.
He rubbed the boy’s shoulder, understanding his emotions, feeling great sorrow for his ordeal. His own heartache felt as if it would crush his chest.
“As I ran toward the woods, I finally spotted the trail,” Henrik said, trying mightily to pull himself together enough to finish the story. “I heard the howls around me. I raced onto the trail without slowing to look back. Before I had taken ten strides down the dark trail, I saw someone moving back in the trees. I froze. They didn’t spot me. I saw dark shapes moving through the brush. I realized that the enemy was in the woods and remembered that Zedd had said that they were all around us. They had been lying in wait in case anyone tried to escape in that direction.”
“It was a trap,” Richard said. “They made it look empty and inviting as an escape route to draw people in. They were waiting in ambush.”
Henrik nodded. “I guess. Because I’m small, or maybe it was because I was alone there in the dark and there was so much noise going on back the way I’d come, they didn’t spot me. Once they realized that the cavalry and the others were running to try to escape in the other direction they all went crazy, howling as they raced out of the cover of the woods to join the chase.
“When I saw them coming I knew that if I kept going down the trail they would soon have me. I was trapped and there was nowhere to run, so I dove behind a fallen tree. I clawed through the soft moss and decayed wood to squeeze in under the trunk.
“I lay as still as I could, holding my breath where I hid. I could just make out dark shapes moving through the trees. Closer in a lot of legs ran past me. More and more people kept running by all the time. Thousands, it seemed, ran past. I could hear the sound of all their feet rumbling through the forest.
“I was terrified that any moment one of them would spot me and then reach down and pull me out. I knew that if they did, they would tear me apart with their teeth the way they had the man I saw pulled off his horse and killed.
“I stayed hidden a long time, too afraid to move. I could hear them making that awful shrieking sound as they charged through the trees like a pack of wild animals on the scent of blood.”
Henrik looked up at Richard. “The general and the others were right not to have tried to take you and the Mother Confessor back through those woods. If they had, you would be dead now.”
Richard knew that he owed his life, Kahlan’s life, to his friends. It didn’t seem fair that he should live at the cost of their lives. He desperately wanted to find a way to help them … if they were still alive.
“Finally,” Henrik said, “after what seemed forever, I didn’t hear any more people running past. I could hear all the howls and cries from them as they went after Cara and the others. That noise kept getting farther away.
“After it was quiet in the woods for a time, I finally dared to crawl out and take a careful look around. The woods were dead still and I didn’t see anyone. I started running.”
“So then, as you were running along the trail, you came to this place?” Richard asked.
Henrik nodded. “I found people here caring for their animals. I begged them to come help you. Thankfully, they did.”
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After Cara told me to run, I never saw what happened to all of them.” Henrik’s head hung as he cried quietly in sorrow for those he had left behind to their fate.
Sammie put a comforting arm around Henrik’s shoulders. Her eyes glistened with tears as well. With her father murdered in the same way as Henrik described and her mother missing, very possibly a victim of the same grim end, she clearly empathized with Henrik’s misery.
Ester turned to Richard as she spoke into the silence, taking up the rest of the story. “When the boy showed up here we couldn’t understand what he was talking about. He wasn’t making much sense. He was frantic to get help, that much was clear, but we were having a hard time of getting him to slow down enough so we could understand what kind of help he needed. He kept pointing and telling us to hurry.
“When we began to grasp that he had been with people who had been attacked, and that there were two injured people who needed help, we knew that we couldn’t wait for him to tell the whole story. It’s dangerous in the Dark Lands at night, and it was evident that your party had somehow fallen victim to something awful. We knew that we had to go right away to find you and get you both out of danger. We figured we could get all the details later.
“As reluctant as we were to venture out into the wilderness at night, we also feared what would happen if we didn’t help. The Dark Lands are sparsely populated. There are dangers, to be sure, and it can be especially dangerous at night, but we had never heard of so many people as it seemed Henrik was describing attacking them.
“We thought that maybe he was imagining things because he was so afraid. It was not only difficult for us to believe what we thought he was telling us, he was having trouble telling us the whole story because he was frantically concerned with us hurrying to go help you. We had no trouble believing, though, because of his panicked state, that you had been attacked by someone and the situation was serious.
“Henrik didn’t know where you were, exactly. We finally got it out of him that you had come from Kharga Trace, from the Hedge Maid. That was enough to tell us what we needed to know. There is only one, seldom-used road that goes in the direction of that swampy place, so we had a good idea where to look. We left the boy up here where it was safe while we went out to look for you.”
“You did good, Henrik,” Richard told the boy. “You saved our lives.”
Henrik managed a small smile. “Just returning the favor, Lord Rahl. You and the Mother Confessor saved my life.” He gestured toward Kahlan. “The Hedge Maid had me. Jit would have bled me dry like the other poor souls who were trapped like I was, but had no one come in time to help save them. They died in her lair. The Mother Confessor got me out.”
Richard nodded. “That’s the kind of person she is. She has always fought for life.” He rubbed his forehead as his gaze sank. “Now she’s fighting for hers.”
He was feeling dizzy, both from his injuries and from fear for his friends and loved ones after what Henrik had told him about the mysterious attack. The long war had ended. He had thought they were finally at peace and that life was returning to normal. He guessed that there was no such thing as normal out in the Dark Lands. He knew, though, that even for the Dark Lands this was out of the ordinary.
Sick with worry for the fate of his friends, his bite wound throbbing painfully, and his head pounding with what might be a developing fever, he needed to lie down.
After learning a little more about Zedd and Nicci beginning to heal them despite the Hedge Maid’s vile touch of death, he needed to have Sammie see to helping Kahlan. He needed help as well, but he knew that he could wait a bit. He didn’t know if she could.
Richard was about to ask Ester if she knew anything at all about the people who had attacked his friends, when he saw the cat across the room suddenly turn to the doorway and arch its back.
Teeth bared, the cat hissed. Its dark gray fur lifted until it was all standing on end.
Richard felt the hair on his own neck stiffen.
“Does it do that often?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Sammie pulled a long lock of curly black hair back from her face as she frowned at the cat. “No. Just when it’s frightened for some reason.”
The flames of several candles withered and died out, leaving a wisp of smoke to curl up into the still air.
Richard heard other cats out in the corridors beyond the doorway let out feral yowls.
Ester started to get up. “What in the world …”
Richard caught her arm, pulling her back, keeping her from going to the door. Henrik’s eyes widened at the chorus of feline screeches. Sammie’s frown deepened.
And then, someone in the distance let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Richard sprang up. Dizzy and light-headed, he struggled to keep from falling over as he focused his attention on the sounds outside in the corridors.
His hand instinctively found the hilt of his sword resting in its sheath at his hip. His fingers tightened around the wire-wound hilt as sudden cries of terror and pain rang out and echoed through the halls. At first there was only one scream, but others soon joined in a chorus of terror.
The sword’s anger instantly inundated him. The suddenness of it felt like being abruptly dropped into an icy river. The shock of it made him draw a sharp breath.
His own anger rose up out of those dark waters to join with the rage spiraling up from the ancient weapon. The icy shock turned hot with rage as a storm of power from the sword called forth its twin from somewhere deep within him.
With his hand on the hilt of that ancient weapon, whatever sickness he felt, whatever pain, whatever exhaustion and weakness weighed on him, it melted before the heat of rage that had sparked to life. The sword’s power, its anger, crackled within him, hungry for violence in reaction to the screams of terror and pain he was hearing from out in the passageways.
The unique sound of steel rang through the room as Richard drew his sword.
It felt exhilarating having it out, intoxicating to hold it in his fist. With the blade free, with the sword’s anger awakened, the Seeker and the Sword of Truth were now forged together in purpose and fierce intent.
They were now a singular weapon.
Ester shrank back at seeing him with his sword to hand. Distantly, Richard realized that his grim expression, and especially the look in his eyes, was probably frightening her.
Henrik scooted back toward the wall, wanting to be out of his way.
Sammie crouched protectively over Kahlan, ready to protect her from whatever might come through the door.
Richard didn’t intend to let anything come through the door.
He pointed the sword back at Kahlan as he spoke with quiet fury to Sammie. “Stay here and protect her.”
Looking determined, Sammie nodded.
Richard flipped the sheepskin covering up out of the way as he ducked under it and out into the hallway, headed toward the sound of the screams.
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As Richard raced out into the hallway, he heard not only terrified screams, but a kind of animalistic growl that could not have sounded more out of place in the world of life. The malevolent roar, a manifest threat to the living, reverberated through the dark passageways.
Richard didn’t know the layout of the labyrinth of corridors excavated through the soft rock of the mountain, or where all the passageways led and connected, but he knew the direction the screams were coming from, so he raced to follow the sound. He knew that the kind of cries he was hearing only came from people in mortal terror. Other screams he recognized as coming from those who were grievously injured or dying. He had heard those dreadful, primal shrieks before. With the war over, he had hoped never again to hear such gut-wrenching cries.
As he raced down the passageways, he began encountering clumps of people racing away from the screams of the injured and bone-chilling bellows of the attackers. Many of the people he ran past were screaming as well, but they were crying out in panic, not the kind of screams that people let out in the throes of death.
As he ran, Richard realized that he was getting lost in the confusing maze of passageways, but it wasn’t hard to follow the agonized cries toward their source. It didn’t really matter if he knew where he was, only that he knew where he was going, and the screams marked the route all too clearly. With his own pain and sickness forgotten for the moment—a distant concern banished by the rage of the sword—his only need was to get to those being hurt.
The part of the rage that came from his sword wanted to get at the ones doing the hurting. That part of the rage wanted the blood of the attacker.
Some of the people saw him coming with his sword to hand and flattened themselves against a wall to stay out of his way, but many others didn’t see him coming and he had to shove them aside. Women hurriedly herded children past, paying attention only to their charges. A few men helped older people. At times, as people desperate to escape the threat came racing past Richard, he had to use an arm to shield them from running into his sword. Other people, men and women, old and young alike, stampeded through, too terrorized by what was behind them to care about what was in front of them.
Before he saw the threat, he encountered a smell that was alien to the cavelike village of Stroyza. It was the unmistakable stench of decomposing flesh, a smell so sickening, so repulsive, that it made his throat clench shut to lock his breath in his lungs. He had to force himself to breathe.
As he rounded a curve in the passageway, Richard saw a broad open area out ahead. It was the entrance cavern of the village, the place where he first came in after he had climbed the narrow trail up the side of the mountain. Out the opening a gentle rain fell through the dark night.
A few lamps hung on pegs in the walls to one side and a fire burning in a pit to the other side provided the only light. In that dim, flickering light he could see people trying to stay out of the clutches of two big men. Both of the dark shapes stormed clumsily around the room, charging first one way, then another, swiping at people trapped in the room. Both of the big attackers glistened in the lamplight, wet from the climb up in the rain.
Some of the people cornered in nooks and crannies around the broad cavern pressed themselves back against the walls, hoping not to be noticed. Others inched toward openings, hoping for a chance to escape. Men keeping what they hoped was a safe distance waved their arms and threw stones, trying to distract and confuse the attackers.
In the center of the chamber the two figures, like bears in a cage, raged at the people around them, their thunderous roars echoing off the domed ceiling of rock. The smell of death and decay was overpowering.
Men popped out of dark passageways from time to time to pelt the attackers with rocks, trying to keep them from attacking. Most of the rocks missed or glanced off, though sometimes it did distract one of the two into taking a swing at the stones. A man on the right side raced in closer to heave a good-sized rock at one of the intruders. The rock hit the big man in the back of the head and bounced off, but it sounded like it had succeeded in cracking the man’s skull, yet the man wasn’t slowed and didn’t show any evidence of being harmed by the blow.
The other shadowy shape roared and rushed to intercept people trying to escape into a passageway. The two big men couldn’t control everyone, though, and when they turned away a few people managed to slip away into the dark opening. A few others sprang suddenly, ducking under the outstretched arms as the big men tried to snatch them. The lucky ones managed to dash into a corridor or over the edge and down the treacherous trail that came up the side of the mountain.
Not everyone was lucky enough to escape, though. Richard saw several broken bodies sprawled in a way that suggested that they had been killed and then thrown to the side. The floor of the cave glistened not only with rainwater but with pools of blood.
Even as Richard was racing across the room toward the dark shapes, one of them lunged and took a sudden swipe, catching a woman pressed back against a wall. With that one powerful blow, his clawlike hand ripped open her soft middle, splattering blood across the wall. Frozen in panic, the woman seemed unable to believe what had just happened. Richard knew that she did not yet feel the full pain of it. Stunned, eyes wide, she let out only small, panting cries as the realization of what had just happened began to sink in.
In that moment of frozen shock, the big man who had done the damage leaned in and snatched the stunned woman’s wrist. With frightening speed, the other dove in and grabbed the cornered woman’s ankle, pulling her feet out from under her. She hit the floor hard, letting out a grunt on impact.
As Richard charged across the cavern toward the two attackers, several cats leaped out of the darkness and onto the man holding the woman’s leg. He swiped one cat off his shoulder. The other clawed at his face. The man held on to the woman’s ankle, not seeming to be hurt by the cat’s claws. He swatted at the cat, trying to get it off his face, as if it were merely an annoyance.
At the same time, the other man twisted the woman’s arm around, ripping it away from her shoulder. With her remaining arm, she struggled weakly, clawing at the ground, trying to escape a fate past changing. The other man still had a firm grip on her ankle, keeping her from squirming away. Her screams lost their power as she mercifully lost consciousness.
As Richard charged in, screaming in rage, his sword flashed through the dim night air, coming down with lightning speed to sever the arm of the big man holding the woman’s disembodied arm. With a cracking sound, the bone splintered. Both disembodied arms, that of the woman and the other holding it in a death grip, tumbled to the floor.
Unconcerned with Richard, the man clutching the woman’s ankle turned toward the cave opening, swinging the woman around and up into the air. She sailed in an arc out into the rainy night, streaming blood and viscera behind her as she silently sailed out over the side of the cliff and down toward the rocks below.
Richard saw the point of a sword blade sticking out from between the man’s shoulder blades. He spun back toward Richard after throwing the woman out of the opening, ready to attack. It seemed impossible, but the man looked unaffected by the broken blade that had impaled him through the chest.
It was then, in the weak light from the fire pit off to the side, that Richard got his first good look at the killer.
Three knives were buried up to their brass cross guards in the man’s chest. Only the handles were showing. Richard saw, too, the broken end of a sword blade jutting out from the center of the man’s chest. The point of that same blade stuck out from the man’s back.
Richard recognized the knife handles. All three were the style carried by the men of the First File.
He looked from those blades that should have killed the big man, up into his face.
That was when he realized the true horror of the situation, and the reason for the unbearable stench of death.
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Richard found himself staring into the face of a corpse.
But it wasn’t the broken sword blade or the knives buried in his chest that had killed him.
It was all too obvious that the man had been dead long before he had ever been stabbed.
The man standing before him looked like a corpse that had been freshly dug up from a grave. The repulsive stink of death was as singular as it was overpowering. The smell alone was enough to drive Richard back a step.
The man’s outfit was so moldered and filthy that it was unrecognizable as to what it might once have looked like. In places the dark tatters of cloth were stained and discolored by bodily fluids that had oozed out during decay. As it had eventually dried, the cloth had stuck to the rotting flesh so that it became almost one with the body.
The lips had shriveled back to reveal the skull’s death grin of broken, blackened teeth. A thin veneer of dark, blotchy skin with a few sparse patches of pale hair covered the crown of the skull. The taut hide had rotted and parted in a few places—on one cheek, on the forehead, and in a long split over the top of the skull—allowing the stained bone beneath to show through.
Although he clearly looked cadaverous, the eyes were something altogether different. The man’s eyes momentarily stopped Richard cold in his tracks.
Richard had seen the indistinct but unmistakable glow of inherent power in the eyes of gifted people before, a glow that he had learned most others didn’t see. Such a light had always seemed to him to be too ethereal to be real, something he saw only through the eyes of his own gift. This man’s eyes also clearly carried a glow fired by the gift, yet that inner light was unlike any light of the gift he had ever seen before, and he didn’t need his own gift to see it. Rather than the transcendent light he had seen in the gifted, this was a fiery luminosity that everyone could see, an announcement to all of the evil lurking behind those eyes.
It was at once dead and empty, but at the same time alive with menace.
In the near darkness, the penetrating reddish glow of those eyes sent ripples of goose bumps up Richard’s arms.
Although he wasn’t an expert on the gift, he had read a great many historical documents on those ancient times when both sides of the gift were common. From what he had learned from the gifted he knew, and from those historical accounts, he had never heard of the gift being able to reanimate the dead.
He knew that those glowing eyes betrayed what animated this man—not life, not the gift, but some kind of occult sorcery.
Even though the dead condition of the man, the stench, and the glow in his eyes had stopped Richard in his tracks for an instant, there had never been any doubt of the man’s malevolent intent. Already Richard’s sword, in full fury, was arcing around toward the threat.
It was apparent from the three knives and the sword broken off in the man’s chest that he didn’t bleed any more than any long-dead, desiccated corpse could bleed, but that didn’t stop the anger storming through Richard from wanting to destroy this killer among them.
With lightning speed the blade came around and with one stroke cleanly beheaded the man before he could take another step toward Richard.
When the tumbling head hit the ground with a heavy thud, Richard saw that the glow was still there in the eyes. Before the rest of the body could fall he crushed in the face with a quick strike from his sword and then kicked the head out of the cave opening. Richard saw the reddish glow in the eyes fade away as the head sailed out into the rainy night.
But the headless body didn’t collapse. It took a step forward. As it took another step and kept coming, the arms reached out for Richard. Hands clawed, one arm swung at him. Richard lopped off the arm before it could be withdrawn. With two more quick slices from the razor-sharp blade he took off the other hand and then the arm it belonged to at the shoulder.
The armless, headless body kept coming, as if unaware that it was missing anything. With a scream of rage Richard brought his sword around again, slicing through the middle of the body. The blade shattered bone and crusted, dried skin. Bits of flesh with shredded cloth stuck to it and jagged bony pieces flew across the broad cavern.
As the disintegrating body was finally falling, the other man, the one with only one arm left, stalked resolutely toward Richard to continue the attack, roaring as he came. He looked to be fresher dead than the first man, and the stink of death and rotting flesh from him was even worse. Although he was clearly a walking corpse as well, he was not dried and shriveled like the other. Instead, the second man glistened with slimy decay. Places on the flesh of his bloated body had split open and oozed liquid. His swollen tongue protruded partway from his mouth, to an extent muffling his angry growls. Like the first man’s, his joints occasionally cracked and popped as he moved, yet it didn’t much hinder or slow him.
Richard instinctively thrust his sword through the killer’s chest. Much like the sword that had been run through the first man and then broke off, Richard’s sword didn’t appear to do any harm with this man, either. As he yanked his sword back out of the man’s chest, Richard took a step back. The man kept coming.
This second corpse had the same reddish glow to his dead eyes, like a window into the inferno of black art burning within him and powering his movements.
One of the men off to the side rushed up and in an attempt to help rammed a knife through the attacker’s neck. It did no more good than Richard’s sword had. The dead man staggered to a stop and with his one remaining arm backhanded the man who had come to Richard’s aid. The man cried out as he tumbled back across the cavern floor.
In that opening, Richard’s blade came around again. This time, Richard didn’t want to merely decapitate him like the first man. As the dead man turned back he was just in time to see the blade right as it met the side of his head. With an awful sound, the sword shattered the killer’s skull. Gooey chunks smacked the rock walls and stuck while bits of bone bounced off. Unlike the first man, this time there was nothing left of the head.
Without waiting to see if it would stop or slow the man, in quick succession Richard rained more blows down on the invader, taking off his other arm, then swiftly hacking his body into several pieces, finally taking the legs that were still standing before him down at the knees.
The roars of both attackers were finally ended. Injured people around the cavernous room screamed or moaned in pain. Others wept in terror. Many of those not hurt rushed out of hiding places to help those who were.
Richard nodded his thanks to the man who had tried to help by stabbing the attacker through the neck. Now back on his feet, the man stood wide-eyed at all that had just happened.
Panting from the effort and repulsed by the nauseating smell, Richard covered his mouth as he turned to the group of men who had been throwing rocks to try to stop the attack.
He took his hand away from his mouth. “What happened? Why wasn’t anyone watching? Didn’t you see these men coming up to your home?”
The men blinked in surprise and confusion, still clearly startled from the unexpected attack and stupefied by the bloody consequences.
“I’m sorry, Lord Rahl,” the man with the knife said. “We do keep a watch, but I guess not a very good one. With as dark as it is, and the rain, and with the dark clothing the men were wearing, we didn’t see them coming or even realize they were here until we heard the screams. Some of us came out to see what the trouble was but by then they were among us and it was already too late. That’s when we found ourselves in the middle of a fight for our lives.”
Richard clenched his jaw with the anger of the sword raging through him. He supposed that with the darkness and rain it would have been difficult to have seen the men or hear them coming.
“If someone had done a better job of standing watch,” he said, “all they would have had to do would have been to put a boot to these men as they tried to climb into here and that would have sent them crashing down the mountain.”
With sheepish expressions their gazes sank to the ground.
“You’re right, Lord Rahl,” another man said. “But nothing like this has ever happened before. I’m afraid that we weren’t expecting such an attack.”
Richard pointed his sword out into the night. “With that attack earlier tonight that Henrik came here and told you about, you should have been alert for trouble. Nothing like that has happened, either. You should have known that something was going on and been prepared, or at least on alert.”
The men hung their heads but said nothing.
“I’m sorry,” Richard said as he took a deep breath and tried to cool his anger. “I shouldn’t blame the victims.”
Some of the men nodded before moving off to help those who were down.
“Nothing like this has ever happened before, Lord Rahl,” the man with the knife said. He looked grief-stricken. “We just weren’t …” He swallowed back his heartache as his eyes wandered among the dead and injured.
With one hand, Richard gripped the man’s shoulder in sympathy. “I know. I’m sorry to sound so angry. These dead men were obviously being driven by some sort of occult conjuring. It could even be that whatever magic was animating them hid them from you so they could get up here. But you need to be on the alert and ready next time.”
The men brightened a bit at Richard’s suggestion that the attackers might have been hidden at first by magic.
The man with the knife used it to gesture toward the cavern opening. “I’ll make sure that there is a watch from now on, Lord Rahl. It won’t happen again.” His haunted gaze swept over the carnage. “I promise, we at least won’t be caught unaware again.”
Richard nodded as he turned back to the dead and injured, making sure that people who could be helped, were being helped.
He spotted an arm of one of the dead attackers nearby. The fingers were still moving, closing and opening, as if still trying to get hold of someone, still trying to attack.
Richard picked up the still-moving, desiccated arm and tossed it into the fire pit, where flames flared up as it caught fire.
As he looked around, it occurred to Richard that with so many people injured, Sammie was going to need to help them before tending to Richard and Kahlan. A number of people were dead. While a few weren’t badly hurt, some of the others had been seriously injured. They needed to be healed by a gifted person, and Sammie was the only one around.
He hoped the girl was up to the challenge. He knew that it would be difficult work even for an experienced sorceress.
As he was about to sheath his sword, he heard screaming break out farther back in the passageways.
When he heard the roar, he realized that there had been more than two invaders come to attack the village of Stroyza.
CHAPTER (#ulink_5864d228-4953-56db-b799-2cd65404749a)
17 (#ulink_5864d228-4953-56db-b799-2cd65404749a)
Richard stood stock-still for an instant, appraising which direction the sounds were coming from. Once he had the direction and approximate distance fixed in his mind, he raced into a passageway, following the sound of the screams. At least a dozen men followed close on his heels.
This time the men all had their knives out instead of bringing rocks. This time they would have a better understanding of what they faced and what they would need to do. Nothing less than hacking the attacker to pieces was going to stop him.
Richard knew that he was going in the right direction because the screams were getting steadily louder. Yet as he ran through the hallways, he occasionally had to pause briefly at intersections to listen again. The tricky way that sound echoed through the passageways made it difficult to tell right away which he needed to take. He ran as fast as he could through the confining, honeycombed network of rooms and passageways, knowing that any delay meant that more people would be hurt or killed. It was frustrating to have to stop at intersections to check for the sound of cries for help so that he could be sure to go in the right direction.
As he got closer to the screams, he realized that they were coming from the direction of where he had left Kahlan.
That realization would have spurred him to run even faster, but he was already going as fast as possible, racing with wild abandon down halls and flashing through intersections without slowing.
Coming around a dark corner, he ran square into a big man. He was as hard as an oak tree and barely moved when Richard crashed into him. Richard hadn’t seen him because he was dark and dried-out like the first of the two dead men he had fought. He stank of death like the others. The walking corpse was so blackened with decay that he blended right into the shadows.
As he staggered back, Richard saw that he had interrupted the invader as he was strangling a woman. As the lanterns from the men coming up from behind threw light on the attacker and his victim, Richard saw that the woman’s face was blue and her wide eyes were fixed and still. She would do no more screaming.
The attacker had both hands around the woman’s throat, holding her off the ground as he crushed her throat. Bone and dried tissue cracked and popped as his head turned. He glared at Richard with glowing red eyes as he bellowed in threat.
As Richard’s sword came down, the powerful blow severed both of the man’s arms at the crook in his elbows. The woman dropped to the ground like a sack of grain, slumping in a lifeless heap. The man roared again as he charged Richard, the stumps of arms held up, his jaws open wide, prepared to attack with his teeth since most of his arms were gone.
A swift blow cut the man’s head in half right across his open mouth. The skull shattered into fragments. Sinew and flesh crumbled under the powerful blow. Two more swings of the sword chopped the man apart. Richard saw the fingers of the disembodied arms on the floor grasping, trying to attack but unable to find or reach a victim.
Richard, still hot with rage from his sword, turned back to the men. “You need to burn all the pieces of these men to ashes. Collect it all and burn it.”
The men looked down, watching the fingers of one of the hands trying to pull its way across the floor toward Richard.
Richard crushed the still-moving hand under a boot heel, grinding the fingers to dust.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” Richard said, “but it seems pretty obvious that some kind of occult conjuring is involved. I don’t want any part of that conjuring left among you. Burn it all. Understand?”
The men all nodded earnestly, fearful of the heat in Richard’s voice even if they knew it wasn’t directed at them.
Hearing yet more screams, Richard turned to the sound. He realized that there were yet more than three of the dead men among them.
He again sprang into a dead run, headed toward the sound. He wondered how many attackers had made it up into the cave. If there were many more, they could wipe out half the village before Richard could find and destroy them all.
As he made his way down narrow passages, he had to squeeze past men, women, and children frantically trying to escape the threat. Some of them cried as they ran, some of them screamed, but they were all panic-stricken, not knowing what to do except run from the danger.
At an intersection of several halls, Richard followed the chilling roars into a broader corridor. He recognized it as the passageway to Ester’s small home. The monster was near. He was getting close. As he panted from the run, he drew in the putrid stench of death. It was like a reminder of the touch of death from the Hedge Maid that lurked within him.
In the distance he saw a flash of movement as a dark shape disappeared around a corner. As Richard ran he stopped suddenly at a doorway with a sheepskin covering. He ducked inside and in the candlelight saw Kahlan on the lambskin rug where he had left her. Ester was there, a knife in her fist as she stood protectively over Kahlan. Richard knew that she had no chance of stopping one of the walking dead, yet she was prepared to try.
Sammie was gone.
Richard let the covering drop back over the doorway as he started out again in pursuit of the threat. He raced toward the screams of startled people apparently awakened in the middle of the night by the attack. He had to shove some of the sleepy people aside when they stood dumbly in the dark passageway.
Out ahead, he saw a blur of movement again as a small figure darted across an intersection only to vanish down a side hall. A dark shape roared as it chased after her. A second shape entered the tunnel, following behind the first and Sammie.
It paused momentarily and turned to look in Richard’s direction. Back in that dark tunnel, Richard couldn’t make out much of the walking corpse, but he could see the piercing reddish glow of its eyes. It was like it was glaring out from the darkness of not only the tunnel, but death itself. And then it was gone, vanishing into the shadows of a side passageway, chasing after Sammie.
Richard ran after them, racing as fast as he could. He ran so fast that the men following behind him couldn’t keep up. As Richard chased after the threat, and put distance on the men behind, he was losing the help of the light from their lanterns. He kept running despite how hard it was to see. Occasionally a room to one side or the other was lit with candles so that their faint light spilled out into the hallway, giving him enough of a glimpse of the tunnel to keep from having to slow.
In the dark, he came upon the second of the two men running after his companion and Sammie. It was hard to see, but he could see well enough to tell that this man, too, was a walking dead man. Even without a good look, the smell alone was unmistakable.
As the man stopped and turned back to see who was behind him, Richard was already there, swinging his sword down with all his might. The ceiling wasn’t very high, so he couldn’t put as much power into a full swing as he would have liked. Still, it was a blade powered by more than mere muscle, the same as these men were powered by more than life.
As the man opened his mouth to bellow a threat at Richard, the sword came down with all Richard’s force and strength behind it. The blade cleaved the man from the top of his head down to the center of his chest. Parts of the head and neck fragmented off the corpse.
Richard didn’t wait to see if it was enough. He hacked furiously at the man, screaming in rage the entire time, cutting the threat to bits. As the men with the lanterns caught up from behind, Richard could finally see that the threat from this particular intruder was no more than rubble in the hallway.
With that one threat ended, Richard looked up. In the distance, faint candlelight came from a room to the right. Richard saw the silhouetted shape of the other man headed for that light. In that light, Richard could see that the hallway was a dead end beyond the room. Sammie was trapped down there. She had nowhere left to run, no way to escape.
Richard charged down the passageway, knowing that he was in a race to kill the man before he could kill Sammie. He yelled as he ran, trying to distract the killer. The man paid no attention to Richard. His attention was on his prey.
The hulking corpse stood just outside the doorway, looking in. Richard wasn’t close enough. The dark shape glanced Richard’s way with glowing eyes, then turned back to the room. He roared with menace as he stormed into the room.
Richard ran with all his strength. The dark shape disappeared into the room at the dead end of the hall. Richard wasn’t close enough. He wasn’t going to make it in time. He knew that Sammie didn’t stand a chance.
Just as he was about to reach the doorway, the big, dark shadow of the man flew backward out of the room and crashed into the wall on the opposite side of the tunnel. Dust billowed up from the impact.
The man was clearly stunned but he recovered quickly. As he regained his footing, Sammie appeared in the doorway.
Richard was almost there, but he wasn’t yet close enough. Sammie and her attacker were too far away for Richard to help her.
The man again let out a thunderous roar of rage as he rushed the girl. Sammie lifted both arms out straight, with her palms up, as if she actually thought she could stop the charge of the big man.
To Richard’s surprise, the man flew backward again, again slamming into the wall.
This time, as he came off the wall, flying toward the girl, she shrieked when she tried a third time to stop him and it didn’t work.
But this time Richard was there. With one mighty blow, the sword cleaved away the monster’s head and one shoulder. A second strike came like lightning, severing the other arm as it tried to strike at Richard. With quick swings, Richard hacked the body down to the waist, and then chopped the legs down at mid-thigh.
The head, with the neck, a shoulder, and one arm still attached, lay on the ground, looking up with menacing, glowing red eyes. The hand reached out and snatched Richard’s ankle. Richard brought the sword down a half-dozen times in quick succession, hacking the arm and head apart. He crushed the hand with his boot after smashing the head to bits.
Richard stood panting, sword in his fist, feeling the rage of it storm through him, drawing yet more of his own rage forth. He cocked his head, listening, but he didn’t hear any other screams or roars. It seemed that this was the last one.
Sammie stared up at him.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
She nodded as she let out a deep sigh of relief.
He pulled her to him and with his sword arm, embraced her around her small shoulders, thankful that he had been in time. She had managed to buy a few precious seconds until he could get to her and end the threat for good.
“You’re sure you are all right?” he asked again. “You’re sure that he didn’t hurt you?”
She held some of her dusty, frizzy black hair back out of the way as she looked down, taking a good look at the remains.
“No, I’m fine,” she assured him. She sounded remarkably calm.
“Then do you mind telling me what you were doing?” Richard gritted his teeth as his fist tightened around the hilt of his sword. He leaned down toward her. “I told you to protect the Mother Confessor. When I left, I clearly told you to stay there and watch over her.”
“I was watching over her.”
“Until you ran. I trusted you to protect her, and instead you ran. I can’t fault you for being afraid, but I was counting on you and you didn’t stay there and protect her.”
Sammie shook her head. “I was protecting her—”
“They came back in the caves after her. You ran.”
Sammie folded her spindly arms and glared up at him. “They weren’t after the Mother Confessor. They were after me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do.” She was still glaring from under a lowered brow. “That’s why I ran—to protect her by drawing the attackers away from her. That was the best way to keep her safe.”
Richard straightened. “What are you talking about?”
“Is she hurt? No. Are there monsters back there ripping her to pieces? No. Why do you suppose that is?”
When Richard didn’t answer, she leaned toward him. “They aren’t back there killing her because they were after me. When they came into the room they didn’t even look at her. They were both looking at me with those glowing red eyes. As they came toward me I moved to the side of the room to see what they would do. Their gazes stayed locked on me. Do you know what they did then?”
“They came after you instead of her,” Richard guessed in a considerably quieter voice.
“That’s right. They didn’t even seem to see her. They were focused only on me. They came after me. I tried every bit of magic I knew to stop them. I admit that I don’t know a lot about such things or have much experience, but I tried everything I know. Nothing worked.
“Then I remembered what Henrik said about what your friends did, so I threw a fist of air like they had done. It didn’t harm those two the way it should have, but it did knock them back just long enough for me to get to the door. When I did that, they left the Mother Confessor and came after me. Once I saw that they really were after me and not her, I ran to get them to chase after me so I could lead them away from her. They weren’t interested in the Mother Confessor. They both came after me.”
She tapped her chest. “Me, not her. Me. So yes, I ran, but I ran to protect her the only way I could—by getting those monsters to chase me so I could lead them away from her.
“I was afraid. Even though I was afraid, I knew that I had to think of something. I wondered if I could somehow trap them in a dead-end tunnel. Then, when I got down here, I had the idea to get them into that room and slip past them like I had before, and then I would collapse the hallway in to bury them down here in this room.”
In the light from the lanterns carried by the men waiting back a ways up the passageway, Richard looked around. It was indeed a dead end, with only the one room at the end. If he hadn’t gotten there in time her plan might have worked. Of course, it might not have. She very easily could have been slaughtered.
Yet, of all the people in the small village, she was the only one who had thought of something to stop the threat. She was the only one with a plan and she acted on it.
Richard ran his fingers back through his hair as he let out a sigh. “Sammie, I’m sorry. You’re right. You did a very brave thing. Thank you for doing what you did to protect Kahlan.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” she said as she showed him a small smile. “I can see in your eyes that you are in the grip of the magic of the sword. I can also see that its anger is all that’s keeping you on your feet. I need to heal you. It can’t wait any longer.”
As he nodded, he realized that his wounds had opened back up in all the fighting. The blood running down his arms dripped off his fingers. Now that the urgent demand of fighting off the attack was over, he was feeling increasingly light-headed and the pain was again pressing in on him.
“Listen, Sammie, there are a lot of your people back there who are hurt. Some are hurt pretty badly. They need your help. Please, tend to them first.”
He was frantic to have help for Kahlan, but he knew that helping some of the others was more urgent. Without help, many would die. He thought he could wait.
Sammie’s gaze swept over the remains on the floor outside the room where she had intended to trap her pursuers. She didn’t merely look worried for her people who were injured; Richard thought that she looked somehow older than she had earlier.
She started back out of the dead-end tunnel. “We’d better hurry, then,” she said back over her shoulder.
“Right,” Richard said as he sheathed his sword.
When the blade slid home, the anger from it extinguished. His own rage went out with it.
In that instant, the entire weight of the ordeal and the staggering pain of all his wounds set in with a vengeance. The sword had been all that had been holding it back.
He couldn’t feel his fingers.
It felt like the tunnel was collapsing in on him and the suffocating weight of it was crushing him.
He managed to take one step, and as he did the world tilted as the floor began rushing toward him. Everything seemed strangely distant, as if he were looking through a long, dark tube at the world off in the distance. The concerned shouts he heard somewhere around him sounded eerily muffled.
Before the floor reached him, the blackness closed in and shut the world away.
CHAPTER (#ulink_83f50cdd-1744-55e5-b801-78128e702b8f)
18 (#ulink_83f50cdd-1744-55e5-b801-78128e702b8f)
When Richard woke, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He was lying on a woven straw mat in a windowless room softly lit by candles clustered along recessed shelves that had been meticulously carved into walls of the same stone as the rest of the cave village of Stroyza. The surface of the walls themselves had been flattened and finely smoothed, mimicking the look of plaster. From what he had seen of the rest of the excavated cave system, these were luxurious quarters.
Kahlan lay on another mat close beside him. She was still unconscious and didn’t respond when he touched her shoulder. To his relief, he saw that she was breathing more evenly and easily than she had been before.
He was surprised to see that her clothes were no longer soaked with blood. Not only were her clothes clean, the rips, tears, and cuts in them had been carefully sewn up so that it almost looked like the shirt had an embroidered design on it. Most importantly, though, she was no longer covered with cuts and hundreds of puncture wounds. From what he could see, it appeared that they had all been healed.
He was relieved by that much of it, if not by the fact that she was still unconscious.
He looked down, then, and saw that his own clothes were just as clean as Kahlan’s. Checking his arm confirmed his suspicion that the horrific bite wound had been healed. Running his fingers over the spot revealed only a slight swelling where the wound had been. A great deal of the pain, too, was gone, though he could still feel a lingering ache in the muscle. He was able to sense a hint of a tingling sensation that he recognized as the residual effect of having been healed.
Even though his outward wounds seemed to all have been healed, he could still feel the awful, dark weight of a grim, inner sickness that was the touch of death left there by the Hedge Maid. That merciless weight was always there, trying to pull him down into its darkness. He knew that the same call of death itself still lay within Kahlan as well.
Richard sat up, looking around. The place was bigger than Ester’s place, where they had been at first. The carpets were thicker, better made, and the colors in them were a little brighter than others he had seen. There were a few chairs and a table that, while not fancy, were well made. The door was wooden rather than a simple hanging. By the way the walls looked square and true, as well as the way they had been smoothed, he suspected that it was the home of someone important.
When she saw him sit up, realizing that he was awake, Ester rose from a bench to the side. “Don’t try to stand, yet, Lord Rahl. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Richard blinked up at her in confusion. “What’s going on? Where are we?”
“We’re in the home of our sorceress.” She pressed her lips tight with grief. “Well, it used to be her home, before …” She reconsidered and then swept a hand around. “Actually, I guess it still is the home of a sorceress. Sammie still lives here, and she is the only sorceress we have left. It was her parents’ home, but now I suppose it’s her home.”
Richard looked around. “Where is she?”
Ester gestured to a door to the back of the room. A few simple designs carved around the outside of the door were a luxury in a village that existed in such a harsh place.
Carved in the center of the door, though, was a Grace, the design that represented Creation, life, and out beyond the bounds of the world of life the eternity of the underworld. Radiating out through the world of life and the underworld beyond were lines representing the gift.
Such a design would not be a luxury, especially not in the home of a sorceress. A Grace was often used as a serious tool of the gifted, and often served as a symbolic reminder to the gifted of their duty, their purpose, their calling. It was never drawn or used merely for the purpose of decoration.
“Sammie is resting. Poor girl, she was exhausted.”
“Exhausted? Then she helped the injured people? She healed all the people who had been hurt?”
“Yes, yes, she worked hard healing people,” Ester said as she waved off his concern, seeming eager to change the subject. “Then she said that she needed to heal you both, as best she could, anyway. I told her that she needed to rest before she took up such a demanding task, but she insisted that it couldn’t wait any longer. She said that she had to do what she could for you and the Mother Confessor right away or you both would slip beyond what help she would be able to give.”
Richard glanced over at Kahlan. He had known that she was in grave trouble. He also knew that Sammie couldn’t heal everything that was wrong with her. That healing would take someone with more ability and experience than Sammie, and it would take a containment field. He was thankful, though, for what Sammie had been able to do to help Kahlan.
He knew that he needed to find Zedd and Nicci, and then they had to get back to the People’s Palace before it was too late if death’s touch was to be removed from both him and Kahlan.
What he didn’t know was how much longer they could survive with that poison inside them. Kahlan, especially, was in urgent need of such help. She wouldn’t be able to survive in this unconscious state for long. Without food and water her condition would only worsen.
Richard was about to ask Ester about the people who had been hurt, and if there had been any more trouble, when the door to the rear of the room swung open. Sammie stood in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes, before peering out into the candlelit room.
“Lord Rahl—you’re awake.” Her initial surprise quickly turned to relief.
Richard nodded. “I am, but Kahlan still isn’t.”
Sammie briefly glanced Kahlan’s way. “I know.”
Before he could say anything else, Sammie bowed her head to Ester. “Thanks for watching over them for me, Ester. I’m awake now. You can go get some rest. You look like you need it.”
Ester yawned. “You sure? You’ve only been asleep for a few hours. After all the long and difficult work you’ve done, don’t you think you need to get some more rest?”
Sammie smoothed back her disheveled black hair. “You’ve been working hard to help people, too, and you, too, have been up for two nights, now. At least I got a little sleep. Lord Rahl is still going to need to rest so his body can finish healing. I can watch over them as they rest. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”
Ester let out a heavy sigh. “All right. I admit that I could use it, but I want to go check on some of the others, first.” Ester flashed a quick smile at Richard. “I’ll be off, then.” She lifted a cloth bag from beside the bench. “Come get me, Sammie, if you need my help for anything.”
Sammie nodded as she saw the woman to the door.
Richard held his knot of questions for the time being as Ester bid him a quick farewell and left. Once the door closed, Sammie promptly returned to put two fingers on his forehead, testing with her gift.
“Well?” he asked after a moment of silence in which she showed no sign of what she might be detecting.
Sammie took her hand back, rubbing her fingers as if she had touched something wholly unpleasant. “Hard to tell for sure, Lord Rahl, but the healing that I was able to do, such as it was, seems to be holding.”
Richard knew that she meant that it was hard to tell much of anything with death’s touch still in him. “You were afraid to heal us before,” he said. He thought it a little strange that she had gotten past her fear of healing them both without him having to do any more convincing.
“Henrik’s story about how the wizard you know—”
“My grandfather, Zedd.”
Sammie nodded. “Yes, him and the sorceress. Once I knew that they were healing you even though they saw the same thing in you both that I saw, I knew that I could at least try to do the same.”
Richard was still suspicious. “You weren’t afraid?”
Sammie’s little nose scrunched up. “Yes, but I knew that it had to be done, so I tried not to think about how afraid I was and just concentrate on what I needed to do.”
“What about Kahlan. Why isn’t she awake like I am, if her injuries are healed?”
Sammie cast a brief, worried glance at Kahlan. “I’m sorry, Lord Rahl, but I did everything I could. The presence of death seems to be stronger in her. That’s something I can’t heal and it was harder to get around it in her in order to work on what I could heal. Death is casting a darker shadow over her than you.”
Richard nodded as he heaved a worried sigh. Even Zedd and Nicci had said that they couldn’t remove that dark force within her without being back at the palace. Considering the difficulty, Sammie had done well to be able to do as much as she had done.
“Thank you for doing what you did for her.” He hoped it would be enough to keep Kahlan alive until he could find Zedd and Nicci, and then get them all back to the palace.
“Keep in mind that I’m not an expert in such things, Lord Rahl, but I think that with her injuries healed as best as I could do, and her not losing any more blood, it may just take some more rest for the healing to complete enough for her to wake. You’ve been asleep a long time. I’m hoping that she, too, will wake up once she has had some more rest. She was hurt worse than you, so she may just need some more sleep before she wakes.”
Richard wanted to believe that was true, but he didn’t know if it was just wishful thinking. “What about the others? All the people who were hurt. Did you heal them first?”
Sammie was a long moment in answering. “Some of them.”
Richard looked up. “Why didn’t you heal them all, all the ones who could be healed, anyway?”
“Because had I not stopped so that I could heal you, you would have died. The Mother Confessor is in more serious trouble because that awful shadow of death is a lot stronger in her, but you were in more immediate danger from your injuries and loss of blood. You were in danger of dying from the things that I could heal. I had to make a choice.”
Richard’s heart sank. “You mean, you had to let some of your people die to instead save me?”
Sammie swallowed. “Yes.”
Richard’s brow drew tight with concern. “Those were your people, Sammie. Why would you abandon them to heal us? To heal strangers?”
Sammie sat on the chair close beside him. She put some of her weight on her hands beside her small hips and rocked a little at the thought of how to answer his question.
“I’m only one person,” she said in a quiet tone. “I worked on those I could save, worked as fast as I could, did what I could. Some people were going to die no matter what. I knew that if I spent the night trying to save some of those, they would still die in the end and then others that I might have saved would also die.
“There were many people needing healing. There wasn’t enough time to heal all of them, even if I would not have healed you. I was never going to be able to save them all.
“This is the second night since the attack. You slept that night of the attack, all day yesterday, and most of last night. It will be dawn soon. That first night, after you had ended the threat and the battle was over, you passed out.
“I had you brought here while I stayed out there and healed a number of people. More needed healing. Some people died as they waited, died while I healed others that I thought had a better chance. Some had wounds that are beyond my skill. I knew I had to leave them. Ester and others comforted them as best they could.
“Throughout the night, between healing people, I checked on you and the Mother Confessor to make sure that you both hadn’t gotten any worse and that you could wait a little longer for me. There were so many who were hurt. Some not badly, so I left them to people like Ester to help with what they could do. I worked on those in more need for as long as I could. But then it could wait no longer.
“I had to choose who I was going to help, you and the Mother Confessor, or some of the others still waiting. I knew that if I helped you, then some of those I couldn’t get to would die. But I also knew that if I didn’t do what I could for you and the Mother Confessor, you both would die that night.
“I had to decide. I decided to heal you while I still could.”
Richard ran a hand back over his face, distressed to hear that she had been faced with such a choice, that saving his and Kahlan’s life had cost others theirs.
“I never had to make a decision like that before,” she said. “My mother never talked to me about how to make such a choice. Such a thing never came up. I don’t know—maybe she wouldn’t have known what to do, either. There was no one else who could tell me what to do. All I knew was that I had to figure it out on my own.”
Richard had made such gut-wrenching decisions before. They left scars that never entirely healed.
“I decided that I had to heal you while I still could,” she finally said. “You saved a lot of people that night. I know that, in reality, you saved us all. Most of the people here would have been killed that night—we all could have been killed—if not for you being here. You are the one. You need to live. By helping you, I am helping many more people here to live than just those I could have healed.”
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Terry Goodkind
From the internationally bestselling author of the Sword of Truth series, comes a new Richard and Kahlan novel, sequel to The Omen Machine.The bloodthirsty Jit is dead, and against all odds Richard and Kahlan have survived. But a new menace has attacked them in the Dark Lands. Infected with the essence of death itself, robbed of his power as a war wizard, Richard must race against time to uncover and stop the infernal conspiracy assembling itself behind the wall far to the north. His friends and allies are already captives of this fell combination, and Kahlan, also touched by death's power, will die completely ifRichard fails.Bereft of magic, Richard has only his sword, his wits, his capacity for insight – and an extraordinary companion, the young Samantha, a healer just coming into her powers.Compelling, fast-moving, and intense, The Third Kingdom is a powerful tale that welcomes new readers to Terry Goodkind's world, while opening up new vistas of worldbuilding for longtime readers of the adventures of Richard Rahl and Kahlan Amnell.
THE THIRD KINGDOM
Terry Goodkind
Copyright (#ulink_a6b7b7ae-2b4f-5b23-be4e-6c8622a5ef4e)
HarperVoyager an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2013
Copyright © Terry Goodkind 2013
Jacket art and design © Rob Anderson at Revel Studios 2013
Terry Goodkind asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780007303717
Ebook Edition © August 2013 ISBN: 9780007493760
Version: 2016-08-31
Contents
Cover (#u09868720-a998-5fac-ab8e-e46dd1c365b8)
Title Page (#u71c1ac0a-852d-5f9c-ac85-cf5d374d765b)
Copyright (#ucefa9e12-3f1a-5c3f-b935-fa71adbb19ba)
Chapter 1 (#u1a629497-0e78-511e-bdb6-131003828828)
Chapter 2 (#ue98f0c7b-e971-5e5c-b267-977d6698aa82)
Chapter 3 (#u8192650b-31c0-5b5e-9483-fbf8b5ea15c4)
Chapter 4 (#u21b5e654-e837-524d-93a1-1ed750fae648)
Chapter 5 (#uf1a012b1-6059-5e4e-823a-5ee568cccfba)
Chapter 6 (#u5315e43f-c8e4-5787-8168-9c14adb82c40)
Chapter 7 (#u5fdc4803-48c8-5d6b-9b1c-27281a026509)
Chapter 8 (#ua5ca60c0-1d82-5709-9956-ace4ac1c20f7)
Chapter 9 (#u5a363ac4-188c-5159-b251-779f2af31bbc)
Chapter 10 (#u0c82c784-fa66-5b37-a400-cf4878ca72fd)
Chapter 11 (#u9c814479-26e7-5b3d-96e7-579a0cdbb0bd)
Chapter 12 (#u1fbbc0b9-6a35-5d98-8fcc-7b9eddf5e280)
Chapter 13 (#udc34c04e-6f8f-5c6d-98d7-071df6428ab6)
Chapter 14 (#u7865aabb-5313-528a-be1f-0778208333b5)
Chapter 15 (#uce8e83e8-841a-59bd-886c-93469c7bdc99)
Chapter 16 (#u48def74b-c515-50d8-bd34-8db9d7071a4f)
Chapter 17 (#ue26038a8-d21c-50f8-8928-2cdaf3dd79c0)
Chapter 18 (#u403ee03c-d011-511a-b18b-57ec4c43be7a)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 47 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 48 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 49 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 50 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 51 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 52 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 53 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 54 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 55 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 56 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 57 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 58 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 59 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 60 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 61 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 62 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 63 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 64 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 65 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 66 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 67 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 68 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 69 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 70 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 71 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 72 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 73 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 74 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 75 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 76 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 77 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 78 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 79 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 80 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 81 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 82 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 83 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 84 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 85 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 86 (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by Terry Goodkind (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER (#ulink_09f76478-013b-50d0-a6c1-ad103ffa14d8)
1 (#ulink_09f76478-013b-50d0-a6c1-ad103ffa14d8)
We should eat them now, before they die and go bad,” a gruff voice said.
Richard was only distantly aware of the low buzz of voices. Still only half conscious, he wasn’t able to figure out who was talking, much less make sense of what they were talking about, but he was aware enough to be disturbed by their predatory tone.
“I think we should trade them,” a second man said as he tightened the knot in the rope he had looped around Richard’s ankles.
“Trade them?” the first asked in a heated voice. “Look at the bloody blankets they were wrapped in and the blood all over the floor of the wagon. They’d likely die before we could ever trade them, and then they’d go to waste. Besides, how could we carry them both? The horses for their soldiers and the wagon are all gone, along with anything else of value.”
The second man let out an unhappy sigh. “Then we should eat the big one before anyone else shows up. We could carry the smaller one easier and then trade her.”
“Or save her and eat her later.”
“We’d be better off trading her. When else would we ever get a chance like this to get as much as she would fetch?”
As the two men argued, Richard tried to reach out to the side to touch Kahlan lying close up against him, but he couldn’t. He realized that his wrists were bound tightly together with a coarse rope. He instead pushed at her with his elbow. She didn’t respond.
Richard knew that he needed to do something, but he also knew that he would first need to summon not just his senses, but his strength, or he would have no chance. He felt worse than weak. He felt feverish with an inner sickness that had not only drained his strength but left his mind in a numb fog.
He lifted his head a little and squinted in the dim light, trying to see, trying to get his bearings, but he couldn’t really make out much of anything. When his head pushed up against something, he realized that he and Kahlan were covered with a stiff tarp. Out under the bottom edge he could see a pair of vague, dark silhouettes at the end of the wagon beyond his feet. One man stepped closer and lifted the bottom of the tarp while the other looped a rope around Kahlan’s ankles and tied it tight, the way they had done with Richard.
Through that opening Richard could see that it was night. The full moon was up, but its light had a muted quality to it that told him the sky was overcast. A slow drizzle drifted through the still air. Beyond the two figures a murky wall of spruce trees rose up out of sight.
Kahlan didn’t move when Richard pushed his elbow a little more forcefully against her ribs. Her hands, like his, lay nested at her belt line. His worry about what might be wrong with her had him struggling to gather his senses. He could see that she was at least breathing, although each slow breath was shallow.
As he gradually regained consciousness, Richard realized that besides feeling weak with fever of some sort, he hurt all over from hundreds of small wounds. Some of them still oozed blood. He could see that Kahlan was covered with the same kinds of cuts and puncture wounds. Her clothes were soaked in blood.
But it was not only the blood on the two of them that worried him. Damp air rolling in under the tarp carried an even heavier smell of blood from out beyond the men. There had been people with them, people who had come to help them. His level of alarm rose past his ability to gather his strength.
Richard could feel the lingering effects of being healed, and he recognized the shadowy touch of the woman who had been healing him, but since he still ached from cuts and bruises, he knew that while the healing had been started, it hadn’t gone beyond that start, much less been completed.
He wondered why.
On his other side, the side away from Kahlan, he heard something dragged across the floor of the wagon.
“Look at this,” the man with the gruff voice said as he pulled it out. For the first time, Richard could see the size of the man’s muscled arms as he reached in and lifted the object he had dragged closer.
The other man let out a low whistle. “How could they have missed that? For that matter, how could they have missed these two?”
The bigger man glanced around. “Messy as everything looks, it must have been the Shun-tuk.”
The other’s voice lowered with sudden concern. “Shun-tuk? You really think so?”
“From what I know of their ways, I’d say it was them.”
“What would the Shun-tuk be doing out here?”
The big man leaned toward his companion. “Same as us. Hunting for those with souls.”
“This far from their homeland? That seems unlikely.”
“With the barrier wall now breached, what better place to hunt for people with souls? The Shun-tuk would go anywhere, do anything, to find such people. Same as us.” He lifted an arm around in a quick gesture. “We came out to hunt these new lands, didn’t we? So would the Shun-tuk.”
“But they have a vast domain. Are you sure they would venture out?”
“Their domain may be vast and they may be powerful, but the thing they want most they don’t have. With the barrier wall breached they can hunt for it, now, the same as us, the same as others.”
The other man’s gaze darted about. “Even so, their domain is distant. Do you really think it could be them? This far out from their homeland?”
“I’ve never encountered the Shun-tuk myself, and I hope not to.” The big man raked his thick fingers back through his wet, stringy hair as he scanned the dark line of trees. “But I’ve heard that they hunt other half people just for the practice until they can find those with souls.
“This looks like their way. They usually hunt at night. With prey out in the open like this, they strike fast and hard with overwhelming numbers. Before anyone has time to see them coming, or to react, it’s over. They usually eat some of those they fall upon, but they take most for later.”
“Then what about these two? Why would they leave them?”
“They wouldn’t. In their rush to eat some of those they captured and to take the rest back with them, they must have missed these two hidden under the tarp.”
The smaller man picked at a splinter at the end of the wagon bed for a moment as he carefully scanned the countryside. “I hear it told that Shun-tuk often come back to check for returning stragglers.”
“You heard true.”
“Then we should be away from here in case they come back. Once they are overcome with the blood lust, they would devour us without hesitation.”
Richard felt powerful fingers grip his ankle. “I thought you wanted to eat this one before he dies and his soul can leave him.”
The other man took hold of Richard’s other ankle. “Maybe we should take him to a safe place, first, where the Shun-tuk wouldn’t be so likely to come across us and interfere. I would hate to be surprised once we get started. We can get a good price for the other. There be those who would pay anything for one with a soul. Even the Shun-tuk would bargain for such a person.”
“That’s a dangerous idea.” He thought it over briefly. “But you’re right, the Shun-tuk would pay a fortune.” The wolfish hunger was back in the bigger man’s voice. “This one, though, is mine.”
“There’s plenty for both of us.”
The other grunted. He seemed already lost in private cravings. “But only one soul.”
“It belongs to the one who devours it.”
“Enough talk,” the big man growled. “I want at him.”
As Richard was dragged out of the wagon, he was still struggling to gather his wits in order to make some kind of sense of the strange things he was hearing. He remembered well the warnings about the dangers of the Dark Lands. He was aware enough to realize that for the moment his life depended on not letting the two men know that he was beginning to come around.
As he was swiftly dragged by his ankles clear of the wagon bed, his upper body dropped to the ground. Even though he tried to round his shoulders, with his hands tied he couldn’t use them or his arms effectively to keep his head from whacking the rocky ground. The pain was shockingly sharp, followed by an enveloping, inviting blackness that he knew would be fatal if he couldn’t fight it off.
He focused on the surroundings, looking for an escape route, to try to keep his mind engaged. From what he was able to see in the murky moonlight, the wagon sat alone and desolate in the wilderness. The horses were gone.
While he didn’t see anyone else about, he did spot bones nearby. The bones were not bleached by weather, but stained dark with dried blood and bits of flesh. He could see gouges where teeth tried to scrape every bit of tissue from the bones.
The bones were human.
He recognized, too, shreds of uniforms. They were the uniforms of the First File, his personal bodyguards. Some of them, at least, had apparently given their lives defending Richard and Kahlan.
The smaller man still had hold of Richard’s ankle, apparently unwilling to let go of his prize. The other man stood to the side, looking at the thing he had pulled across the floor and out of the wagon.
Richard realized that it was his sword.
The man holding the sword pulled Kahlan partway out from under the tarp. Her lower legs bent at the knees and swung lifelessly from the end of the wagon bed.
While the man was distracted looking at her, Richard used the opportunity to sit up and lunge, trying to snatch his sword. The man yanked it back out of the way before Richard could get his fingers around the hilt. With his hands and feet tied, he hadn’t been free enough to grab it in time.
Both men stepped back. They hadn’t thought he was conscious. Richard had lost the advantage of surprise and gained nothing in return.
In reaction to seeing him awake, both men decided not to waste any more time. Snarling like hungry wolves, they descended on him, attacking him like animals in a feeding frenzy. The situation was so bizarre that it was difficult to believe.
The smaller of the two pulled Richard’s shirt open. Richard could see a glaze of ferocious savagery in the man’s eyes. The bigger one, teeth bared with a feral fury, dove straight for the side of Richard’s neck. Richard reflexively drew his shoulder up, deflecting the lunge at the last instant. In protecting his exposed neck, the move instead presented his shoulder to the attack.
Richard screamed out in pain as teeth sank into his upper arm. He knew that he had to do something, and do it quick.
He could think of only one thing: his gift. He mentally reached down deep within, desperately summoning deadly forces, urgently calling on the power that was his birthright.
Nothing happened.
With his level of anger and desperation, along with his fear for Kahlan, the essentials were there for his gift to respond. In the past it had answered such critical need. The power of it should have come roaring forth.
It was as if there was no gift there to summon.
Unable to call it forth, with his wrists and ankles bound, he had no effective way to fight off the two men.
CHAPTER (#ulink_e12a42bf-4c73-5be8-a901-322468504c65)
2 (#ulink_e12a42bf-4c73-5be8-a901-322468504c65)
Frustrated and angry that he couldn’t get the mysteries of his gift to respond in order to help himself and Kahlan, Richard knew that he didn’t have the time to try to figure it out. Instead, he resorted to using what he could depend on—his instincts and experience.
As the men lunged for him, Richard thrashed wildly, trying to prevent them from being able to hold on to him and muscle him under control. Being on the ground with the weight of his attackers above him left him at a decided disadvantage, but he knew that he couldn’t let that stop him from doing everything he could to fight them off.
Their eyes wild, both men threw themselves over the top of him to hold him down. At the same time they tried to rip into him with their teeth. Richard had heard stories of people being attacked and eaten by bears. The two men piling onto him reminded him of the helplessness that came across in those stories, but with the frightening new dimension of human malevolence behind it.
Several times their teeth began to sink into his flesh, but each time Richard managed to jerk, twist, or elbow them away before they were able to get a good enough bite to rip off pieces of him. He couldn’t understand why they didn’t simply stab him to death. They were both carrying knives, and they had his sword.
It was almost as if they knew what they wanted to do, but their inexperience was making them less effective than they might have otherwise been. Still, the partially successful attempts left gaping, horrifically painful wounds that gushed blood. With Richard quickly tiring from fighting under the weight of the two men, to say nothing of losing blood, he knew it was inevitable that they were going to succeed in what they intended.
Incomprehensibly, between trying to bite off pieces of him, the men paused to lap at the blood as if they were dying of thirst and didn’t want to let a drop of it get away and run into the ground. The interruption from biting to go after all the blood at least gave Richard time to get a breath.
Frustrated by not being able to get him under their control, the bigger man pressed a muscular forearm against Richard’s throat and leaned his weight on it. Richard fought to breathe as he tried to squirm out from under the pressure of the arm compressing his throat. It was terrifying to have both men on top of him, trying to tear him apart with their teeth, and not be able to move, much less get them off.
Pressed down with all his weight, the man’s arm abruptly slipped on all the blood. As he fell forward he had to throw a hand out onto the ground for balance. In a flash, with strength powered by fear and desperation, Richard pulled his own blood-slicked arms up from under the man stretched out over him and looped one arm over the man’s head.
Richard elbowed the man’s arm, knocking it aside. Without a hand on the ground, he lost his balance and fell farther forward. Richard arched his back, at the same time blocking with his knees, forcing the man around onto his back. Finally in a position to apply leverage, Richard pulled the rope binding his wrists together tight across the man’s throat.
Straining with every ounce of strength, Richard hauled back on the coarse rope binding his wrists, using it as a garrote to choke the big man.
Surprised, the man hadn’t had time to draw a breath before Richard had control of him. He gasped, straining for urgently needed air as he desperately clawed at Richard’s forearms. His fingernails ripped gashes across Richard’s flesh, but all the blood made for a greasy grip on Richard’s arms and the man couldn’t get himself free. Not able to escape the hold, he reached back, trying to claw Richard’s face or gouge out his eyes, but Richard’s face was out of reach and the man’s fingers caught only empty air.
The second man rushed in to help. He, too, tried to lever Richard’s arms away from his companion, but could find no spot to get his fingers under for a solid hold. Richard, fighting for his life, kept the first man locked in a death grip.
Not able to break Richard’s hold, the second man hammered his fists against Richard arms, trying to make him let go of his companion. Lost in rage, Richard hardly felt the blows.
Seeing that his efforts were doing no good, the man quickly realized that he had to try something else. Yelling for his companion not to give up, he struck out with a fist at Richard’s face, trying to get him to let go. With the way Richard had the big man pulled in tight against himself, the blows weren’t direct enough. Several times the man’s fist glanced off Richard’s jaw as he screamed for Richard to let go.
Richard had no intention of letting go. To let go would mean certain death.
The big man Richard was choking squirmed frantically, his arms flailing as he desperately reached for something, anything, that would help him escape or at least get a breath. He kicked with his heels, aiming for Richard’s shins. Richard pulled his knees up to keep his lower legs out of range. Most of the blind kicks landed on the ground and the ones that did connect weren’t direct enough. Gritting his teeth with the effort, Richard tipped the man back even farther just to make sure that he couldn’t do any damage with his heels.
Richard saw a knife blade rising in a bloody fist of the second man. He pulled the man he was strangling over on top of himself as best he could to shield himself against a knife attack. He didn’t know how effective it would be, but it was the only thing he could do.
Suddenly, there was a loud, bone-cracking thump. The man faltered as he tried to turn. Another, sharper thump swiftly followed. With the third blow, blood rained down.
The man dropped the knife as he collapsed in a limp heap across the top of the man Richard was choking.
Richard wasn’t sure what had happened, but he was not about to let go to find out. Without the second man fighting him, he was able to focus all his strength on the task at hand. The big man’s movements had already become slow and weak as not only his wind was being cut off, but also the blood to his brain.
Richard screamed with rage to power his own aching muscles. As the man’s struggling became sluggish, Richard swiftly changed his hold, throwing an arm around the man’s neck, getting him in a headlock. Hard as he could, he twisted the man’s head. In the quiet drizzle, when he reached the point of resistance, he pulled back a bit to gather more force, then slammed the man’s head over even harder. When he did, he finally felt the neck snap. The man’s whole body immediately went slack.
Powered by fury, Richard continued strangling the man even though he was no longer fighting.
A hand gently reached down with a reassuring touch to Richard’s bulging biceps.
“It’s all right. He’s dead. They’re both dead.” It was a woman’s voice he didn’t recognize. “You’re safe,” she said. “You can let go now.”
Still panting from the effort and the rage, Richard blinked as he looked up into several shadowed faces crowded in over him.
They were not soldiers. From their simple clothes, they appeared to be country folk. Two women and two men leaned in, looking down at him. Back beyond those four, a handful of other men crowded in closer. They, too, looked like country folk.
CHAPTER (#ulink_f83c4ed0-545c-5d10-9628-300f79e7af59)
3 (#ulink_f83c4ed0-545c-5d10-9628-300f79e7af59)
Richard gradually released the pressure on the dead man’s neck. As the remaining air hissed from his lifeless lungs, his head flopped crookedly to one side.
One of the men standing above him lifted the limp arm of the other, smaller of the two dead men atop Richard and pulled him off to the side. Even in death, there was still a bloody snarl frozen on the face.
A mask of blood had run down to cover the side of the man’s face. Fragments of bone stuck up from his matted hair. Richard saw that the back of his head had been bashed in with a large rock that one of the other men crowded in close still held in a tight grip.
As the man with the broken neck began to slowly slip off to the side, one of the women, the one who had touched Richard’s arm, used a foot to shove the bigger of the two dead men aside. It was a relief to have the suffocating weight finally off.
The woman picked up the bloody knife that the second attacker had dropped when his skull had been crushed in. Leaning close, she sliced at the rope binding Richard’s hands and they at last parted. She moved down and cut the rope tying his ankles together.
“Thank you,” Richard said. He was more than relieved to at last be free. “You saved my life.”
“For the moment,” a man in the shadows said.
“We hope you will return the favor,” another added.
Richard didn’t know what he meant, but he had bigger worries at the moment.
With an angry gesture, the woman with the knife hushed the men before turning her attention back to Richard.
He saw in the weak light of the full moon that illuminated the cloud cover that she was middle-aged. Fine lines creased her face in an agreeable way. It was too dark to tell the color of her eyes, but not the determination in them. Her expression, too, was one of grim resolve.
The woman leaned closer to press a hand to the bite wound on the side of his upper arm to try to stop the bleeding. Her gaze turned up to his as she held pressure in the wound.
“Are you the one who killed Jit, the Hedge Maid?” she asked.
Surprised by the question, Richard nodded as he looked around at all the stony faces watching him. “How do you know that?”
With her free hand, the woman pulled stray strands of her straight, shoulder-length hair back from her face. “A boy, Henrik, came to us a little while ago. He told us that he had been her captive, and that she intended to kill him like all the others she had killed. He said that two people rescued him and killed the Hedge Maid, but now they were in trouble and needed help.”
Richard leaned forward. “Was there anyone else with him?”
“I’m afraid not. Just the boy.”
Even though Richard had killed the Hedge Maid, he and Kahlan had both been grievously hurt. Their friends had brought a small army to get the two of them out of the Hedge Maid’s lair and take them home. Now, those friends were all missing. He knew that none of them would have willingly left Kahlan and him alone like this.
“Henrik was the one who told my friends what had happened and where they could find us,” Richard said. “They should have been with him.”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, but he was alone. Terrified, and alone.”
“Did he tell you what happened, here?” Richard asked. “Did he tell you where those who were with us are now?”
“He was winded and in a panic to find help. He said there was no time to explain. He said we had to hurry and help you. We came right away.”
Now that Richard was free and the rush of the fight was over, the shock of pain had begun to bear down on him in earnest. He touched his forehead with trembling fingers.
“But did he say anything else at all?” Richard asked. “It’s important.”
The woman glanced around in the darkness as she shook her head. “He said that you had been attacked and needed help. We knew that we had to hurry. Henrik is back at our village. When we get back you can question him yourself. For now, we must get in out of the night.” She gestured urgently to the woman behind her. “Give me your scarf.”
The woman immediately pulled it off her head and handed it over. The woman kneeling beside Richard used the scarf as a bandage, wrapping it high around his upper arm several times. She swiftly knotted it, then stuck the knife handle under the knot and twisted it around to tighten the tourniquet. Richard gritted his teeth against the pain.
He couldn’t seem to slow his racing heart. He was worried about all those who had been with him, worried as to what could have happened to them. He needed to get to Henrik and find out what was going on. More than that, though, he was worried about getting help for Kahlan.
“We shouldn’t be out here any longer,” one of the men in back quietly cautioned, trying to hurry the woman.
“Almost done,” she said as she quickly appraised some of his more obvious injuries. “You need these wounds sewn closed and treated with poultice or they will be infected by morning,” she told Richard. “Bites like this are not to be ignored.”
“Please,” Richard said as he gestured with his other arm toward the wagon. “Help my wife? I fear that she is hurt worse.”
With a quick gesture from the woman, two of the men hurried to the wagon.
“Is she the Mother Confessor?” one of the men called back as he checked on her.
Richard’s sense of caution rose. “Yes.”
“I don’t think that we can do anything for her here,” he said.
The other man spotted the sword and picked it up from the ground. His gaze glided over the ornately wrought gold and silver scabbard before taking in the word TRUTH made of gold wire woven through the silver wire wrapping the hilt.
“Then you would be the Lord Rahl?”
“That’s right,” Richard said.
“Then there is no doubt. You are the ones we came looking for,” the man said. “The boy, Henrik, told us who you were. We came to find you.”
Richard’s concern eased at hearing that it was Henrik who had told them exactly who he and Kahlan were.
“Enough,” the woman said. She quickly turned back to Richard. “Glad we were in time, Lord Rahl. I’m Ester. Now we have to get you both back to safety.”
“Richard will do.”
“Yes, Lord Rahl,” she said absently, as if no longer listening as she pressed at wounds, checking their depth.
Ester motioned to some of the other men behind her. “You will need to help him. He’s badly hurt. We have to get out of here before those who did this come back.”
Several men, relieved to hear that she was finally ready to leave, rushed in to help Richard to his feet. Once up, Richard insisted on going to Kahlan. The men steadied him when he staggered to the wagon.
Richard saw that Kahlan was still unconscious, but breathing. He laid a hand on her, aching with fear over her condition. Her clothes were soaked in blood from the ordeal with the Hedge Maid. The thought of that vile creature and what she had been doing to Kahlan again awakened Richard’s anger.
The Hedge Maid had been drinking Kahlan’s blood.
He slid his hand through the long slit in her shirt, feeling where Jit’s familiars had slashed open Kahlan’s abdomen to bleed her and collect her blood for the Hedge Maid to drink. He was worried not only about the severity of the terrible wound, but how much blood she had lost. To his astonishment, he found only a few swollen ripples in her skin where the long wound had been nearly healed.
Richard recalled, then, the touch he had felt—the touch of a healing begun, but not finished. Zedd or Nicci must have healed the deep wound on Kahlan, but from the rest of the wounds still evident on her, Richard could see that, as with him, they hadn’t finished what they had started. Because he remembered that it had been Nicci’s healing touch on him, he suspected that it would have been Zedd who had started healing Kahlan.
Richard was thankful that Zedd had managed to heal the terrible gash in Kahlan’s abdomen, but he hadn’t had time to heal everything. She had a number of wounds that still bled. He knew, too, that she must have other serious injuries or she would not be unconscious.
“Do you have someone who can help her?” Richard asked. “A gifted person?”
Ester hesitated. “We have someone gifted who may be able to help,” she finally said.
One of the men behind leaned close, taking hold of Ester’s dress at her shoulder to pull her back a bit as he whispered in her ear. “Do you think that wise?”
The woman turned an angry look on the man. “What choice is there? Should we instead let them die?”
He straightened, his only answer a sigh.
“But we must hurry,” Ester said. “She can’t heal them if they’re dead.”
“Besides that,” another man reminded her, “we need to get all of us in out of the night.”
At his words, others glanced around in the darkness. Richard noted that they all seemed terrified of being out after dark. Having once been a woods guide, he had often visited country folk. It was a relatively common attitude among them to want to shut themselves in when the sun went down. People in more remote places tended to be more superstitious than most, and the one common thing they all feared was darkness.
Although, he had to admit that these people certainly had real things to fear.
Richard watched as several men gently lifted Kahlan and then placed her over the shoulder of the biggest man. Richard wanted to carry her himself, but he knew that he couldn’t even walk by himself. He reluctantly let two of the men put their shoulders under his arms to help him stay upright.
In the faint moonlight and soft golden glow of lanterns that several of the people carried, Richard looked back beyond the wagon. For the first time, he saw countless bodies. They weren’t the men of the First File. Strange, pale, half-naked people lay sprawled across the ground everywhere. Given their gaping wounds, it looked like the First File had fought a fierce battle. Given the numbers of the dead, it was no wonder that the damp air smelled of blood and gore.
Nearby, just beyond the corner of the wagon, one of the dead men lay sprawled on his back, mouth agape. His dead eyes stared up at the dark sky.
The man’s teeth had been filed to points.
Richard’s grandfather Zedd and the sorceress Nicci had brought elite soldiers with them to see Richard and Kahlan safely back to the People’s Palace. None of them would have abandoned the two of them. Richard scanned the scattered bones among pieces of uniforms, insignias, and the weapons of the First File lying scattered across the ground. It was a horrifying sight. But he didn’t see anything that looked like it belonged to Zedd or Nicci or Cara.
Cara, his and Kahlan’s personal bodyguard, was Mord-Sith. She would not have left him for any reason short of death, and he’d always suspected that even then Cara would come back from the world of the dead to protect him.
He feared that out there in the darkness where he couldn’t see them, the bones of all those he cared so much about were among the dead. Panic at the thought of losing those so close to him tightened his chest.
“Hurry now,” Ester said, pushing at the men helping to hold Richard up. “He’s bleeding badly. We have to get back.”
The others were more than happy to start away from the sight of so much death and head back to safety.
Richard let the men half carry him onto a narrow path through the wall of trees and into the night.
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4 (#ulink_3cf1f4d0-1d05-54a1-a410-8085fa4438b9)
On their swift journey through a forest so dense that the floor of the trail remained nearly untouched by moonlight, all of the people around him kept a wary watch of the surrounding darkness. Richard, too, scanned the woods, but he could see little beyond the weak lantern light. There was no way of telling what might be back in the black depths of the woods, no way of telling if the mysterious, half-naked people who had slaughtered his friends might be following him.
Every sound caught his attention and drew his eye. Every branch that brushed against him or snagged on his pant leg elevated his heart rate.
From what he could see, the people he was with carried nothing more than utilitarian knives. They had used a rock to dispatch the man attacking Richard. He would hate to encounter the hordes of killers on the dark trail and have to fight them off with little more than rocks.
He was glad to have the tooled leather baldric back over his right shoulder and his sword again at his left hip. From time to time he absently touched the familiar hilt of his sword for reassurance. He knew, though, that he was in little condition to fight.
Still, just touching the ancient weapon stirred its latent power and the silent storm of rage it held within it, stirring its twin within him and enticing him to call it forth. It was reassuring to have that faithful weapon and its attendant power at his beck and call.
Because some of the people had lanterns, Richard scanned the blackness for eye shine that would reveal the presence and position of animals beyond the limited range of the lantern light. While he did see some small creatures like frogs, a raccoon, and some night birds, he didn’t see any eyes of larger animals watching them.
Of course, it was always possible that something larger could have been hidden among the dense clusters of ferns and shrubs or back among the tree trunks so that Richard wouldn’t have seen them.
And, of course, there would have been no eye shine if the eyes watching them were human.
Since he couldn’t really see anything in the black depths of the woods, he depended instead on sounds and smells that might tip him off to a threat. The only thing he smelled, though, was the familiar scent of balsam, ferns, and the mat of pine needles, dried leaves, and forest litter covering the ground. The only sounds he heard were the buzz of insects and sometimes the sharp call of night birds. Distant, faint cries of coyotes occasionally echoed through the mountains.
All of the people taking Richard and Kahlan to the safety of their village refrained from talking on the journey. The wary group walked swiftly but nearly silently, the way only those who had spent a lifetime in the woods were able to do. Even the man ahead who was carrying Kahlan made little noise as he moved along the trail. Richard, unable to walk very well and sometimes dragging his feet as the men on either side helped him, was making more noise than any of the rest of them, but there was little he could do about it.
With all the bodies of strange people he had seen back near the wagon, to say nothing of the two men who had attacked him and the things he had overheard, as well as all the warnings he’d previously gotten about venturing into the Dark Lands, Richard could easily see why these people were nervous and being so careful. The two men who had attacked him had looked nothing like the bodies he had seen. If those two men had been right, then the dead were the mysterious people they had mentioned, the Shun-tuk.
It seemed that unlike other country folk Richard knew back home, the people with him had more reason for their fears than simple superstition.
He appreciated it when people took real dangers seriously. The people who most often invited trouble were the willfully ignorant who didn’t want to believe trouble was possible, so they dismissed the potential for it. You couldn’t be ready for what you never considered or were unwilling to consider. Worry was sometimes a valuable survival tool, so Richard thought it foolish to ignore it. But still, since they were so lightly armed, he didn’t think these people took the threats seriously enough.
Either that, or perhaps the threats they faced were something new to them.
It wasn’t long before they abruptly emerged from the confining, oppressive darkness of the forest into the open. A light mist borne on cooler air dampened Richard’s face.
In the distance across the slightly rolling ground out ahead of them, lit by the muted moonlight, Richard saw a sheer rock wall rising up. Partway up the cliff face he could see faint, flickering light, probably from candles and lanterns, in passageways that looked to go back into the rock.
Making its way ever onward toward the cliff, the trail passed between large fields, some planted with grain, others with vegetables. Once among the fields spreading out from the foot of the soaring cliff, the people with him finally felt safe enough to start whispering among themselves.
As they got closer to the rock wall, they came upon pens made of split rails. Some of the pens held sheep, others rather skinny hogs. A few milk cows stood together in a tight cluster in the corner of one pen. Long coops set among boulders fallen from the mountain towering over them looked like they were for chickens that were no doubt roosting for the night. Richard saw a few men tending to the animals.
One of the men was checking on the sheep, patting their backs to make them move aside as he wove his way back through the small but dense flock crowded together in a large pen.
“What is it, Henry?” Ester asked as she got closer. “What are you men doing down here at this time of night?”
The man couldn’t help staring for a brief moment at the strangers being carried in, one being helped on foot and a woman with a long fall of hair draped over a man’s shoulders. He lifted a hand out, gesturing to the neat grid of pens.
“The animals are restless.”
Richard looked back over a shoulder. The palm of his left hand rested on the familiar hilt of his sword as his gaze swept the fields between them and the dark mass of woods. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“I think you had better leave the animals and get inside,” Richard said as he scanned the dark tree line.
The man frowned as he lifted his knit cap to scratch his thinning white hair. “And who might you be to tell me what to do with our animals?”
Richard looked back at the man and shrugged, but then, feeling his legs about to give out, he put his left arm back around the shoulder of one of the two men standing beside him. “I’m just someone who doesn’t like it when animals are restless, and I’ve seen a lot of frightening things this night not all that far behind us.”
“He’s right,” Ester said as she started out again toward the rock wall. “You’d best get up inside with the rest of us.”
Henry replaced his cap on his head as he cast a worried frown toward the silent wall of the woods hard against the far edge of the fields. The tall spruce looked like sentinels keeping the moonlight from entering.
Henry conceded with a nod. “I’ll bring the others up right behind you.”
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5 (#ulink_58a928b7-e94f-5716-bd53-75971a437851)
With the help of the men to either side, Richard followed behind Ester, who in turn followed behind the man carrying Kahlan. Out at the head of the small group making their way toward the cliff, a man with a lantern looked back from time to time, making sure everyone was still accounted for.
Kahlan, her long hair matted with blood, her arms dangling, hung limp and unconscious over the shoulder of the man carrying her. In the moonlight Richard could see the wounds from the thorny vines the Hedge Maid had used to bind and imprison her. From time to time blood from those and other wounds dripped from her fingertips.
Richard had the same kinds of cuts, but not as many as Kahlan. The thorn vines must have had a substance on them that kept wounds from closing up properly because his, too, still oozed blood. At least he had managed to kill the Hedge Maid before she could completely drain Kahlan of all her blood. Although seriously hurt, at least she was still alive.
As they had made their way through the forest on their way toward the village, he had ached to stop and heal her himself, but he knew that he was in no condition to be able to accomplish such a task. It took a variety of strengths on the part of the one doing the healing to be effective, strengths he didn’t have right then. It made more sense to get help for her.
Once he knew that Kahlan was safe, he needed to find out what had happened to the soldiers of the First File and the friends who had been with them. He refused to believe that those he cared so much about were already dead. He remembered all too vividly, though, the human bones he had seen. He was distressed that any of his people had died, but especially in such a horrific fashion.
As they approached the base of the cliff, the small group made their way through a sprawling boulder field of broken rock built up over time as rock cleaved from the cliff face to accumulate below. In some places those with Richard, making their way single-file among the boulders, had to duck under massive slabs of stone that had fallen from the face of the mountain and now rested atop the jumble of rock slabs.
Richard was surprised to see the people ahead of him start up a narrow path right up against the face of the rock wall. Set back in a tangle of scrub, it would have been easy to miss, had he not seen people ahead beginning to climb upward.
He had thought that maybe they had ladders going up to the inhabited caves, or even an interior passage, but it appeared that the only way up was along the path made up of natural crags and ledges of the rock face. Where there were no natural footholds, the rock looked to have been laboriously cut away to create a trail. In the weak yellow light of the lanterns carried by some of those ahead, he could see that the rock underfoot had been smoothed by people treading across it to ascend the cliff wall for what had to be thousands of years.
“What is this place?” Richard asked in a whisper.
Ester looked back over her shoulder. “Our village, Stroyza.”
Richard missed a step. He wondered if she knew what the name meant. Few people still alive understood High D’Haran. Richard was one of those who did.
“Why do you live up there? Why not build down among the fields and then you wouldn’t have to climb up and down this treacherous trail all the time?”
“It is where our people have always lived.” When that seemed not to be reason enough for him, she showed him a patient smile. “Don’t you think that it would also be treacherous for anyone who would come to attack us in the night?”
Richard glanced to the bobbing dots of lantern light out ahead as people carefully made their way ever upward. “I suppose you’re right. A single person up top could easily hold off an army trying to make their way up this trail.” His brow twitched. “Do you have a lot of trouble with people attacking your village?”
“This is the Dark Lands,” she said, as if that was explanation enough.
With the drizzle making the rock slick, Richard stepped carefully as they made their way up the narrow ledge of a path. The path wasn’t anywhere near wide enough for a man to walk on either side of him to help him walk, so one of the men instead followed close behind, ready to steady him if he faltered. Fortunately, there were iron handholds pinned into the face of the rock in particularly narrow spots.
Unfortunately, the handholds were on the left side, and his bandaged left arm was the one most severely injured. He was in so much pain that his fingers could barely grip the iron holds, so he sometimes had to cross his right hand over to grip the bars. It made it more difficult to climb, but kept him from falling. The man following close behind held on to the iron bars with one hand and from time to time used his other to help prop Richard up and to keep him from falling. Glancing downward in the faint moonlight revealed a dizzying drop.
When they finally reached the top, a small cluster of people waited to greet them. As Richard stepped onto the open area the crowd moved back to give the arriving party room. He could see that the naturally formed, broad cavity narrowed down in places into several cavelike, wide passageways going deeper back into the mountain. Concern masked the faces of the people watching the injured strangers being brought in.
Several cats emerged from the darkness to greet the returning people from the village. Richard spotted several more of the cautious creatures back in the passageways. Most of them were black.
“We’re thankful to see you all safely back,” one of the waiting men said. “With you out after dark for so long, we were worried.”
Ester was nodding. “I know. It couldn’t be helped. Fortunately, we found them.”
Before Ester could introduce him, Henrik spotted them from the shelter of the shadows and ran out to greet them.
“Lord Rahl! Lord Rahl! You’re alive!”
Whispered astonishment swept back through the small assemblage of villagers. Apparently, not everyone in the village had been informed who the party had gone out to rescue.
“Lord Rahl … leader of the D’Haran Empire?” one man asked as whispers continued to spread among those gathered.
Through his pain, Richard nodded. “That’s right.”
They all started going to a knee. Richard hurriedly waved away the show of deference. “None of that, please.”
As they all hesitantly returned to their feet, Richard managed a smile for the boy. “Henrik, I’m relieved to see that you are all right.”
The man holding Kahlan eased her limp form down off his shoulder. Several people rushed in to help.
Ester quickly introduced a few of the people gathered around, but then cut it short. “We need to get them inside. They are both badly hurt. We need to see to their injuries.”
The small crowd, shadowed by several cats, followed behind as Ester hurriedly led them back into one of the broader tunnels. There were a number of rooms built into natural clefts and crags along the way back into the cavern. Many of the rooms and network of tunnels had been excavated from the semisoft rock. The faces of some of the rooms had mortared stone walls filling in the gaps. Some places had wooden doors while others were covered with animal skins to create what looked to be a community of small homes.
The honeycomb of dwellings throughout the warren of burrows looked like a grim existence, but Richard supposed that the safety of the place high up within the mountain was comfort enough. The clothes worn by the people around him also spoke to the austere nature of existence in their small village. They all wore similar types of crudely made fabric that blended in with the color of the stone.
Ester snatched the sleeve of a woman ahead of her and leaned closer. “Get Sammie.”
The woman frowned back over her shoulder. “Sammie?”
Ester confirmed it with a firm nod. “These two need to be healed.”
“Sammie?” the woman repeated.
“Yes, hurry. There is no time to waste.”
“But—”
“Go,” Ester commanded with a flick of her hand. “Hurry. I will take them to my place.”
As the woman rushed off to get the help Ester had called for, the crowd all funneled into a smaller passageway. Finally arriving at a doorway covered over with a heavy hanging made of sheepskin, Ester and several of the people with them ducked inside. Once inside the small room one of the men hurried to light dozens of candles. In contrast to the simple wooden table, three chairs, and chest to the side, crude but colorful carpets covered the floor. Pillows made of unadorned material similar to the material their clothes were made from provided the only other seating.
Ester directed the men carrying Kahlan to the side of the room, where they gently laid her down on a lambskin backed with a row of plain, well-used pillows. The men with Richard helped ease him down to sit on the floor against several pillows.
“We need to tend to your wounds right away,” Ester told Richard. She turned to some of the women who had followed them in. “Get some warm water and rags. We will need a poultice made up. Bring bandages as well as needle and thread.”
As the small cluster of the women hurried back out of the modest quarters to do her bidding, Ester knelt beside Richard. With a gentle hand she carefully lifted his arm and loosened the tourniquet so she could look under the blood-soaked bandage.
“I don’t like the color of your arm,” she said. “These bite wounds must be washed out. Some of them need to be stitched up.” She glanced up at his eyes. “You also need more talented help.”
Richard knew that she meant he needed a gifted person to heal him. He nodded as he leaned to the side, carefully pulling strands of hair back from Kahlan’s face so that he could press the inside of his wrist against her forehead. She felt feverish.
“I can wait,” he said. “I want you to take care of the Mother Confessor first.”
When he looked back at Ester, apprehension tightened her features. She was clearly worried that he was the one who needed the immediate help.
Richard softened his tone. “I’m grateful for all you and your people have done, but please, I want you to help my wife first. You’re right that my bite wounds need to be tended to, but she’s unconscious and obviously in worse trouble. Maybe my wounds could be sewn and bandaged while your gifted person sees to helping the Mother Confessor first. Please, I’m worried about her condition. I need to know that she will be all right.”
Ester studied his eyes briefly and then smiled a bit. “I understand.” She turned and flicked a hand. “Peter, please go make sure that Sammie is on her way.”
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6 (#ulink_9ebf8377-1490-533a-b7d5-c7392ffc37d7)
Richard turned from Kahlan when he heard people approaching out in the corridors. The first woman who ducked in under the sheepskin covering the doorway was carrying a bucket of water. A few of the other women brought in another bucket of water along with bandages and other supplies.
He was surprised to see some older women enter next, ushering in a wisp of a girl only beginning to blossom into womanhood. A long mass of black hair framed her small face. Her dark eyes were wide with wonder as she stood stiffly among the sheltering cluster of women. The smooth skin of her narrow face set back in among the dark mass of curly locks looked pale in the candlelight.
Ester rose up and held a hand back down toward Richard. “Sammie, this is Lord Rahl. The woman lying there is his wife, the Mother Confessor. They’ve both been badly hurt and need your help.”
The girl’s dark eyes briefly turned down to take a look at Kahlan before they turned back up at Ester. At Ester’s urging, the girl hesitantly stepped forward. She lifted out the sides of her long skirt and performed an awkward curtsy before Richard.
Richard could easily see that she was not simply shy; she was terrified of him. Being from such a small, isolated place, she probably rarely saw strangers, much less strangers such as this. Despite the pain he was in and his worry for Kahlan, he made himself smile warmly to reassure her.
“Thank you for coming, Sammie.”
She nodded as she hugged her slender arms to herself. Without answering, she moved back against the shelter of the older women.
“Sammie, would you excuse us for just a moment, please?” He looked up at Ester. “May I speak with you privately?”
Ester apparently knew why he wanted to talk to her alone. She forced a quick smile in answer before shepherding the small group to the doorway. They paused, looking confused, but finally obliged as Ester gently shooed them out. Once they were gone, Ester pulled the sheepskin down across the doorway.
“Lord Rahl, I know that—”
“She’s a child.”
The woman straightened her back and clasped her hands as she took a deep breath. She stepped closer and chose her words carefully.
“Yes, Lord Rahl, and though she is only just fifteen years, she’s a gifted child. Right now that’s what you both need. I can tend to cuts and scrapes, treat fevers with herbs, sometimes I can even set a broken bone”—she gestured to Kahlan—“but I don’t know how to help her. I don’t even have any idea what’s wrong with her. Yes, Sammie is young, but she is not without knowledge and abilities.”
Richard remembered when he had been as young as Sammie. He had thought that he was all grown up and had the world mostly figured out. While he had known more than most adults gave him credit for, as he had grown older he had come to realize that despite how much he did know, he knew less than he thought he did, mostly because he never appreciated how much more there was to learn. Now, as an adult looking back on someone that age, despite how much they might know, he understood how limited a young person’s scope of the world really was.
That age of early confidence was something like a false dawn. The real thing was coming, yet despite being close at hand it was still not quite there. And even when it did begin to arrive, there was always more to learn. He remembered Zedd telling him that old age meant that the only thing he really knew was that he would never know it all, much less know enough.
Putting Kahlan’s life into the hands of someone with such limited experience was more than a little disconcerting to him.
“But she’s a child,” Richard said softly so that those outside wouldn’t hear. “This is a difficult and complex task even for someone experienced in such things.”
Ester bowed her head respectfully. “Lord Rahl, if you don’t want Sammie to try, that is of course your decision and I will abide by it. I will do my best to sew up the worst of your wounds and tend to other injuries as I know how. I can try to guess at what the Mother Confessor might need and prepare some herbs and such that might help her.”
The woman lifted her head to look him in the eye. “But I think you know as well as I do that it isn’t going to be enough. You both need gifted healing.
“If you don’t want Sammie to try to do that bigger task of what is needed, then all I can suggest is that you will have to travel elsewhere in the hope of finding someone more to your liking. It would be a difficult journey. In the Dark Lands there is no telling how far you will have to go to find such a person. I can tell you that there are not many with such abilities as you need. Not many I would trust, anyway.
“Because of that, Jit was able to prey on those desperate to find help. Occasionally she would help someone in need so as to create hope among other desperate people and in that way draw in more victims.
“Do you think you have the ability to undertake a journey to find someone trustworthy who could help you? Do you think the Mother Confessor can make such a journey? Are you willing to risk her life on waiting until you can find someone else? If you become desperate will you risk her life on someone with veiled motives and perhaps end up in the hands of someone like Jit?
“You have already seen that we are willing to help you, even at the risk of danger to ourselves.”
“And why would you do that?” Richard asked.
Ester shrugged. “We help because we would want someone to help us if we were in danger. It is our way. It has always been our way, handed down from generations long forgotten. We teach our children to help those in need because one day we might be the ones in need, and we can only hope to earn such help if we are worthy, if we are the kind who would give it and not just receive it. We believe in treating others as we would want to be treated.”
“I guess that’s the way I’ve always tried to live my life as well,” Richard said.
“Lord Rahl, I am telling you that Sammie may be only fifteen, but she is gifted and has a good heart. That is all we are able to offer. That is the best we can offer. Are you so sure that you want to turn down our help, such as it is?”
Richard knew that he was in no condition to heal Kahlan himself. Worse, though, he didn’t think that he could. Back at the wagon he had tried to summon his gift to save her life, and his gift had not responded. It was evident that there was something seriously wrong with his gift. If it wouldn’t save her from being murdered, it would not respond to heal her, either.
He didn’t know what could be wrong with his gifted ability. He knew only that it wasn’t working. They both needed help.
He also knew that in his present condition he couldn’t make it far. He remembered that Zedd and Nicci had started healing them even as they lay in the back of the moving wagon. They wouldn’t have been doing that if it wasn’t urgent.
Still, he didn’t entirely trust the motives of these people.
If he wasn’t willing to accept the girl’s gifted help, then having Ester tend to their wounds with needle and thread, herbs, and poultices was the only other choice. He knew that Ester was right that such help wasn’t enough, especially for Kahlan.
Richard had been wounded in the past. This time, though, he felt something different, something more than simple injuries. He wanted to ignore the way he felt, but he knew he couldn’t, at least not for long. He knew, too, that whatever the grim shadow of affliction he felt within himself was, Kahlan was suffering from it far worse than he was.
Zedd and Nicci had been trying to heal him and Kahlan, but they hadn’t been able to finish that work. Now they were missing. Richard knew that the lives of not only Kahlan but also his friends depended on him making the right decision. He didn’t think that there was any time to waste.
But gift or no gift, he didn’t know if he dared to trust Kahlan’s life to such a young and inexperienced girl. Where the gift was concerned, a mistake could be fatal.
“Do you trust her abilities?”
Ester hiked up her gray dress and again knelt beside him. “Sammie is an earnest girl. Her mother was a sorceress. That may account for Sammie seeming to be grown beyond what her years would otherwise suggest. Being ungifted myself, I don’t know much about such abilities, but I do know that her mother passed the gift on to Sammie. There is no doubt about that much of it.”
“Where is her mother?”
Ester’s gaze fell away. “Not long ago we found the remains of Sammie’s father, but not her mother. We think that her mother was captured and taken. Though Sammie holds out hope, I don’t think she is still alive.”
“Taken?”
Ester’s gaze rose to meet his. “As your people were. As nearly happened to the Mother Confessor.
“The Dark Lands have always been a dangerous place. We have long lived with those dangers and know how to remain fairly safe. But now, terrible things are happening that we don’t understand and can’t fight. We need help.”
Richard wiped a hand across his mouth. As he had thought, this was what the men who had helped save him back at the wagon had meant. Although they might have always lived their lives by the code of helping others as they would want to be helped, in this case they needed help that they thought only one such as the Lord Rahl could provide. Considering the frightful things he had seen, it wasn’t hard to see why they were desperate for help. He couldn’t blame them for their motives.
His gaze turned to Kahlan. He briefly watched her shallow breathing. Did he dare to risk her life on such an inexperienced girl?
What choice did he have?
“All right,” he finally said with a sigh of resignation.
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As soon as she had Richard’s agreement to let Sammie help, Ester sprang up. She pulled back the thick covering over the doorway and ducked under it to rush out into the hall. Richard could hear her asking the others to please give the Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor privacy. The people murmured their understanding.
In short order Ester ushered the girl back in, leaving all the others to wait down the corridor. With a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder, Ester steered her into the room as she once again let the heavy sheepskin fall across the doorway.
A black cat ducked in under the sheepskin and casually followed the girl into the room. The cat sat off to the side, lifting a hind leg as it licked the glossy fur on its tummy.
Sammie stood stiffly just inside the room, looking too fearful to approach. Her flawless skin laid over her immature features not yet fully emerged made her almost look like a statue carved of the smoothest marble.
Richard held out his good hand and waggled his fingers in invitation. “Please, Sammie, come sit here beside me.”
When Sammie shuffled closer, he gently took her hand and urged her to kneel down beside him. She sat back on her heels, wary to get too close. Her big eyes sparkled in the candlelight as they remained fixed on him. If she only knew that he probably had more to fear than she did.
Once Ester saw that the girl was in his hands, she used her foot to slide the bucket of water across the floor with her as she carried the bandages and other supplies over to Kahlan, where she squatted down and hurriedly began cleaning the worst of Kahlan’s wounds.
“I’m very sorry to hear about your father and that your mother is missing,” Richard said.
Sammie’s eyes welled up with tears at the mention of her parents. “Thank you, Lord Rahl.” Her voice was as thin and timid as the rest of her, and it carried the lonely, painful tone of inconsolable grief.
“Maybe if you can help us, then when I’m able to, I can help find your mother.”
Sammie’s brow twitched. She looked confused. “You are the ruler of the D’Haran Empire.” She wiped the tears from under her eyes. “Why would you be concerned with helping someone from the little village of Stroyza?”
Richard shrugged. “I didn’t become a leader because I wanted to rule people. I became a leader because I wanted to help protect our people from harm. If one of the people I’m sworn to protect is hurt or in danger, no matter who they are, then that is my concern.”
She looked perplexed. “Hannis Arc rules all the Dark Lands, including our village. I’ve never met him, but I’ve never heard anyone say that he is concerned about protecting us. Far from it; I’ve heard that he only cares about prophecy.”
“I’ve heard the same thing,” Richard said. “I don’t share his concern for prophecy. I believe we make our own future. In part that’s what brought me here. The Mother Confessor and I were both hurt while making sure that a terrible prophecy did not come true and harm our people. Our free will, not prophecy, made the ultimate difference in what happened.”
The girl glanced at Kahlan out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry about your wife being hurt.” Her big eyes turned back to Richard. “My mother often said that I was gifted, but it was up to me, not fate, to make something of it.”
“Wise advice. And did she teach you about using your gift?”
A bit of the tension went out of the girl’s bony shoulders. “All my life she taught me things about my gift, but mostly in little ways.”
“Little things are a good place to start. Larger understanding is built on little things. We put those little things we learn together into larger concepts.”
With a thumb, Sammie smoothed a fold in her dress along the length of her thigh. “She was just starting to teach me more, to teach me about using our calling to heal. She said that I was old enough to start learning more. But I’m still only a young sorceress. My ability is nothing compared to my mother’s gift, and especially nothing compared to one such as yours must be, Lord Rahl.”
Richard couldn’t help but to smile. “I didn’t even find out that I had the gift until I was a lot older than you are now. No one taught me about it as I was growing up. I imagine that with all your mother taught you, you must know more about the gift than even I do.”
Her smooth brow bunched skeptically. “Really?”
“Really. I’ve since used my ability, but in a different way than most gifted people. I’ve both destroyed and healed with my ability, but I’ve done it through instinct and desperate need, through letting my gift guide me, rather than from anything I was taught.”
Sammie sat over on her hip as she thought it over. The black cat strolled over to rub against the girl before padding on silent paws toward Kahlan.
“That must be frightening to have the gift and not know how to use it, not know how to control it.”
Despite the pain he was in and his worry for Kahlan, he couldn’t help letting out a small ripple of laughter. “You don’t know the half of it.”
She regarded him with an unreadable look. “But still, you must be able to use your power well enough. After all, you are the Lord Rahl. I’ve heard it said that the people of D’Hara are the steel against steel so that you might be the magic against magic.”
Richard didn’t tell her that at the moment his power didn’t work.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cat cautiously stretched forward to smell Kahlan’s boot. The little black nose glided along, hovering just above her leg and then up along her arm, not quite touching her skin. The cat abruptly drew back. Its lips curled with a hiss that bared sharp little teeth. Richard thought that it must not like a stranger who smelled of blood being among them.
“Are all the cats that live here black?” Richard asked Sammie.
She looked up at him from under her brow. “They are when they need to be.”
Richard frowned. “What does that mean?”
“In the dark they are all black,” she said, cryptically.
Ester, kneeling beside Kahlan, flapped her rag at the cat, chasing it away. Ears laid back, the cat scurried out of the room.
Richard looked back at Sammie. He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he had more important things on his mind. He turned the conversation to the matter at hand. “So what do you know about healing?”
Sammie’s brow twitched as she considered her answer. “My mother was just starting to teach me how to heal people. She talked to me about the fundamentals and then had me help with small things. I’ve only done simple healing—cuts and scrapes, a sick stomach, headaches, rashes. Things like that. She guided me in how to let my ability go down into a person to feel the trouble within them.”
Richard nodded. “I’ve experienced that when I’ve healed people.” He stared off into grim memories. “On occasion, because the need was so great, I’ve had to let myself go so far down into a person that it felt as if I lost who I was as I sank into their soul to lift their pain away and take it into myself.”
“I’ve never gone that deep.” Sammie looked uneasy. “I don’t know that I’d ever be able to go down into a person’s soul.”
“If you’ve healed people then I suspect you have, even if you didn’t realize it,” Richard said. “That’s how it works. While healing, you are venturing down into the essence, in other words the soul, of who they are. At least, that’s how it works for me.”
“That sounds … frightening.”
“Not if you really care about helping them.”
She watched his eyes for a moment as if they held some deep secret. “If you say so, Lord Rahl.”
Richard looked over at Kahlan lying not far away. Ester, her face set in a frown of focused concentration, carefully cleaned and inspected cuts along Kahlan’s arms.
“I’ve healed Kahlan before,” Richard said, “but I’m not strong enough to do it now and I’m terribly worried for her.”
Sammie’s gaze left Kahlan to wander over some of his more serious bite wounds. Her worry about the task he was asking of her was clearly evident in her tense expression.
“I don’t know how deeply I may have gone into a person’s essence, but I do know that I’ve never healed such terrible injuries. I’ve only healed small things. I’ve never tried to heal anything so grievous.”
“Well, from my experiences I can tell you that, to a certain extent, anyway, the severity of the injuries is irrelevant. Of course, in some cases it isn’t, such as when the person is near the veil and in the process of crossing over from the world of life into the world of the dead. That’s different.”
Sammie’s eyes widened. “You mean as the person is crossing the boundaries of the Grace?”
Richard regarded her more seriously. “Your mother taught you about the Grace?”
Sammie nodded. “The symbol that represents the spark of creation, the world of life, the world of the dead, and the way the gift crosses those boundaries to link everything. Those with the gift, she told me, must know about the Grace so as not to violate it. It defines how the gift flows and how it works—its capability and its limits—as well as the order of creation, life, and death. All our work, my mother said, is represented by the Grace, guided by it, and ultimately must be governed by it.”
“That’s what I learned as well,” Richard said. “By allowing myself to flow along those lines of the gift as represented by the Grace, I’ve found that healing most injuries is basically the same process. If you let the person’s need guide you, then through your gift you can feel what is necessary. Through your empathy you lift away the hurt and hold it within yourself so that the healing power of your gift can then flow into the person you’re helping. I have always found that the person’s need actually guides me, draws me onward toward it.”
Except that for some reason his gift had stopped working.
The girl frowned. “I think I know what you mean. My mother had me feel deep down into people, feel the trouble within them.”
“And did she teach you to lift that pain out of them and take it into yourself?”
Sammie hesitated. “Yes. But I was afraid. It’s hard when you can feel the pain they feel. I’ve done that. I’ve felt what they felt, though it was for smaller injuries. Then I try to lift it away from them and, like you say, let the warmth of the gift flow from me and into them to heal them.”
Richard was nodding as she spoke. “That’s been my experience as well.”
“But you said that you have healed people when they have been at the boundaries of the Grace, when they have been crossing over into the world of the dead. You have flowed along those lines of the Grace that flow into the world of the dead.”
It didn’t sound at all like a question so much as a lecture for doing things she had been taught were forbidden.
“You would be surprised, Sammie, what you would do for ones you love.” He again looked over at Kahlan. “I love her very much and I’m afraid for her, but this time I don’t have the strength for the sustained effort needed to heal her. Can you do that for her?”
Sammie’s gaze glided over to watch Ester gently cleaning blood from Kahlan’s face. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know for sure. A Hedge Maid had captured her and was starting to drink her blood and—”
“Jit?” Sammie abruptly leaned toward him, her eyes intent. “Are you talking about Jit?” When Richard nodded she asked, “How did you ever manage to get away from the Hedge Maid?”
“I killed her.”
“Indeed he did,” Ester said back over her shoulder. She dipped the cloth in the bucket and then wrung red water out of it. “That’s how they were both hurt,” she said with a last look before going back to her work cleaning Kahlan’s wounds.
Sammie seemed not to notice Ester. She instead stared in wonder at Richard.
“Then you really are a protector of your people.” She caught herself, glanced at Ester busy with her work, then leaned closer to Richard and spoke confidentially. “You are the one.”
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Richard didn’t know what she meant about him being the one. He was having enough trouble remaining upright and besides, he had far greater concerns at the moment.
“Will you help Kahlan, then? I need you to help us both, but I want you to help Kahlan first. I need to know that she’s out of danger.”
Anxiety tightened the gentle features of Sammie’s face. “She’s the Mother Confessor.”
Richard wasn’t sure exactly what she was getting at. “That’s right.”
Sammie winced a little with a sideways look, apparently fearful of posing the question. “Won’t I, well, you know, won’t I be harmed by her power? When I go down into the essence of who she is, won’t I be taken by her Confessor power?”
Richard was shaking his head even before she had finished the question.
“No, it doesn’t work that way.”
“How can you be sure? You said that you don’t know a lot about magic.”
“Because besides me, both a wizard and a sorceress have healed her before. None of us were harmed. In fact, a sorceress was in the process of healing her earlier today, but we were attacked before she was able to finish.
“Kahlan’s power won’t harm you. It’s not a danger for you to heal her. So, will you do it?”
Sammie pressed her lips tight. Her mouth contorted as she weighed her inner doubts. She finally nodded.
“I’ll try, Lord Rahl. I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
Sammie squatted down beside Ester and leaned in over Kahlan. She turned her head to get a better view as she looked down at Kahlan’s still face.
“She’s very beautiful,” Sammie said back over her shoulder.
Richard nodded, trying to be understanding of Sammie’s young age and not show his tense impatience. He was afraid that if he wasn’t careful he might frighten her and then she wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly on the job ahead of her. With his stomach in knots and Kahlan’s life hanging in the balance, it wasn’t easy to show the girl a calm expression.
“She is beautiful on the inside, too,” he said. “Right now she needs help. It’s up to us to give her that help.
“Maybe you should start out with the small things, first. Maybe concentrate on healing some of the cuts on her arms. That way you will be doing what you know. After you get comfortable with what it feels like to be healing her, then you can move on and deal with her bigger problem.”
Sammie nodded, liking the suggestion. “That sounds like the guidance my mother would give.”
She gently took hold of the older woman’s elbow and urged her back. Ester moved out of the way, pulling the bucket of bloody water with her.
“Take your time and think it through, child,” Ester told her. “Your mother taught you well. I know that you can do it.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” Sammie said as she rested a hand on Kahlan’s abdomen, feeling her slow breathing. “I hope it’s enough,” she whispered to herself.
Ester stood off to the side, watching nervously. “Your mother would be proud of you, Sammie. She would say that you can do it, and that it’s in your hands now.”
Sammie, already concentrating on what she needed to do, answered with an absent nod. She momentarily touched various wounds along Kahlan’s arms, evaluating them with her gift. Her fingers tested the place on Kahlan’s stomach that had already been mostly healed by Zedd. Her hand lingered there, as if inspecting the work, perhaps hoping to learn from it.
Finally, Sammie scooted around so that she was kneeling above Kahlan’s head. Leaning in, Sammie pulled wet strands of Kahlan’s hair aside and then pressed her hands to Kahlan’s temples. Her splayed fingers lying along Kahlan’s cheeks were so small and frail-looking that Richard feared she didn’t have the strength needed for such a difficult task, to say nothing of the experience to accomplish it.
He reminded himself that he had healed people without any experience or training. He supposed that in that respect Sammie was more knowledgeable than he was. Still, it was Kahlan, and he couldn’t seem to quiet his worry, or his racing heart.
The girl’s eyes rolled back in her head as her eyelids slid closed. Still holding Kahlan between her hands, Sammie stretched her arms out straight as her head tilted back in the effort of calling for the needed strength.
Richard had learned some time back that he had the unique ability to see the gift radiating power around sorceresses. He could see that aura of power around Sammie as she opened herself up to her gift. The aura looked like shimmering, colored distortions to the air around her, something like the heat waves above a campfire.
Richard had seen the auras of gifted people before. It was reassuring to see such a marker of gifted power glimmering in the air around Sammie. While Sammie’s aura wasn’t nearly as strong as many he had seen, and especially not as powerful as that of a sorceress such as Nicci, it was definitely the gift he was seeing warming the glow around the girl.
He hoped that power would be enough.
Richard listened to the soft hiss of the candles as Sammie leaned forward again and bowed her head in concentration. He knew what she was experiencing, what it felt like to let yourself dissolve down into the person you were trying to help, to immerse yourself in their being, to be intimately close to their innermost self. He watched as the flames of the candles slowly wavered and the wax dripped down from time to time as they burned. He wondered all the while what Sammie was experiencing, what she was feeling within Kahlan.
Several of the candles in the room abruptly extinguished at the exact same instant. Richard’s gaze darted around the small room, searching shadows.
Sammie shrieked and leaped to her feet.
Richard sprang up in surprise. Ester shrank back.
Before he could ask her what was wrong, Sammie began screaming in a high-pitched shriek born of what looked to be unbridled panic. Arms flailing, she retreated blindly until her back smacked into the stone wall. In the grip of terror, still screaming, unable to back away any farther, she clawed at the air while shrieking in fright. Her head twisted from side to side as if she did not want to look at what she was seeing.
The shrill screech was painful. Ester fearfully backed away as far as she could. As Sammie turned to run for the doorway, Richard caught her, closing his arms tightly around her slender body to keep her from getting away. Her spindly arms thrashed frantically, as if she was trying to escape something only she could see. She screamed in unbridled terror the whole time, twisting madly in Richard’s arms as she fought to escape.
Richard cocooned the squirming girl until he finally gathered her wildly flailing arms and pinned them to her sides.
“Sammie, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I saw it in her …”
“It’s all right. You’re safe, now. What did you see?”
When she turned in his arms and pushed at him, crying hysterically as she again tried to get away, Richard grabbed her firmly by the sides of her shoulders to keep her right where she was. Despite his injuries, she was no match for his muscle.
“Sammie, tell me what you saw!”
“I saw …” was all she could get out between sobs.
Richard shook her. “Sammie, stop it. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you.” He shook her again. “Stop it now. Lives are at stake—your mother’s life could very well be at stake. You need to get control of yourself and tell me what’s going on. I can’t help fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong. Now tell me what you saw in Kahlan.”
Sammie, tears coursing down her face, shook from head to toe.
“I saw what is in her,” she sobbed.
“What do you mean? What did you see in her?”
Sammie’s face contorted in horror. “I saw death.”
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Again Sammie tried to turn away. Again Richard turned her back.
“What do you mean, you saw death? You need to get yourself under control and talk to me. What do you mean?”
Panting in fear, Sammie swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. She gulped a few quick breaths and pointed, as if it was plain as day, as if he should be able to see it, too.
“She has death in her.”
As she again tried to twist away, Richard tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Calm down. Take a deep breath. Kahlan is unconscious. She can’t hurt you. I’m here with you. I need you to explain what you’re talking about so that we can figure out what you saw. Kahlan is alive. She’s not dead.”
Sammie’s face wrinkled up as tears sprang anew. “But I saw—”
“You’re a sorceress,” he said in a firm voice. “Act like one. Your mother is gone. She may need help, too. This is important. She would want you to stand in her place and do what is needed. You can do that, I know you can.”
Sammie sniffled, trying her best to hold back her tears. She finally nodded.
Ester laid a hand on the girl’s back. “You’re safe, Sammie. Do as Lord Rahl says, now.”
Sammie’s lower lip trembled. She looked from Ester back to Richard.
“Is that what my father saw when he died? Is that what it’s like? Did he have to face that? Did my mother see that too? Is that what we all face when we die?”
Richard squeezed her shoulders in sympathy and spoke softly. “I’m sorry, Sammie, but I can’t answer that. I don’t know what we see when we die. I don’t know what you saw in Kahlan. Now, take a deep breath.”
She took two.
“Better?”
She nodded as she pushed her thatch of dark hair back from the sides of her face.
“All right,” Richard said, “now explain to me what happened.”
Sammie took another steadying breath and then flicked a hand toward Kahlan. “I was connected to her, feeling her pain—you know, the pain of her smaller injuries, like you suggested. I was, well, I was trying to gather up a lot of that pain, collect it, and take it into myself.”
“I understand,” Richard said as he cautiously released her shoulders. “Then what?”
Sammie put one hand on a hip as she pressed the trembling fingers of her other hand to her forehead, trying to remember what had happened. “Well, I don’t know exactly. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Do your best, child,” Ester urged.
Sammie glanced at her and then looked up at Richard’s eyes. “Do you know the way the sensation of beginning to do a healing is like being caught up in a flow that draws you in, draws you deeper, seeking more of the trouble within the person?”
“Yes, I know what you mean,” Richard said. “It’s like you lose your sense of who you are as you become more and more focused on them and their pain. It feels like you are dissolving into the other person, losing yourself as you slip down into who they are. It seems to gather power from you and in that way pulls you onward.”
Sammie was nodding as he spoke. “That’s what it felt like. When I’ve healed other people, though, I wasn’t pulled in like that. This was stronger than I’ve ever felt before.”
“That’s most likely because they weren’t as badly hurt. It’s the need that draws you toward it. The more serious the trouble, the stronger the need, so the more powerfully it pulls you in. You don’t need to be afraid of that sensation. From what I know, that’s not unusual.”
“That wasn’t the frightening part,” Sammie said as she cast a worried look at Kahlan. Her lower lip started quivering again. She seemed transfixed, unable to look away from Kahlan lying so still on the lambskin.
Richard put a finger under Sammie’s chin and turned her face back toward his. “Go on. Tell me what you saw.”
Sammie knitted her fingers together as she frowned while recalling the experience. “When I started slipping down into her, I began to be drawn in faster and faster. It took me deeper than I had expected. I realized that I wasn’t trying to go down into her, it was just that something kept pulling me down. It was like losing my footing as I slid down a steep, slippery slope.”
“I told you, that’s pretty normal.”
“That’s what I thought at first. But I soon realized that I wasn’t simply going down into her need the way I have with others I’ve healed. I wasn’t just being pulled in. I was being drawn toward something.”
“Toward something? Toward what?” Richard asked.
“Something dark. Something dark and sinister. As I got closer, I heard voices.”
That was something Richard had not expected. “Voices? What kind of voices?”
“At first I didn’t know what the sound was. At first it was a distant buzzing. As I sank ever faster toward the darkness within her, I realized that what I was hearing were screams.”
Richard frowned. “Screams? I don’t understand. What do you mean, you were hearing screams? How could you hear screams?”
Sammie stared off, as if experiencing it again. “It was like a thousand screams all melted together.” She shook her head at her own description, or maybe in an effort to escape the memory. She looked back up at him. “No, not like a thousand. Like a million. Like a million million. It was like an infinite number of screams welling up from a dark place. They were the most horrific, terrifying, anguished screams you can imagine. The kind of screams that seemed as if they might sear the flesh from your bones.”
Richard couldn’t help glancing back down at Kahlan. “Did you see anything?” he asked. “Did you see where these screams were coming from?”
Sammie twisted her hands, bending her fingers as she tried to find words. “I, I was being pulled toward darkness. But then I saw that it wasn’t darkness, exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was more like a writhing mass of forms. That was where the screams were coming from. A turning, churning, tumbling mass of spirits that were all wriggling, struggling, squirming, and screaming at once.”
Richard stood stunned, unable to imagine what was going on.
Sammie looked frustrated trying to come up with the right words for what she had seen. “I’m sorry that I can’t explain it very well, but when I saw it, felt it, I knew that it was death I was seeing. It was death itself. I knew it, that’s all.”
Richard made himself take a breath. “That certainly sounds frightening, and while I can’t explain it, that doesn’t mean that it was death you were seeing.”
Sammie tilted her head to the side as she frowned up at him. “But it was, Lord Rahl. I know it was.”
Richard was impatient to get the young sorceress back to the task of healing Kahlan, but he reminded himself that he had to be understanding of not only her age and inexperience, but her fears. This was all new to her, and her mother was not there to help her. He suspected that she was simply misinterpreting the pain resulting from the seriousness of Kahlan’s injuries.
“Sammie, it was probably the terrible pain, the profound hurt within Kahlan, that you were encountering. I’ve healed grievously injured people before, so I know how frightening it can be. Being immersed in their suffering is a dark and daunting experience. Time seems to stop. The world of life can seem distant. Lost in that strange place with their pain, you know that what is hurting them could kill them, and only you can stop it. You know that they’re facing death if you can’t help them.”
“No,” Sammie insisted as she shook her head. “When I looked through that shimmering green curtain, I knew I was looking beyond the veil into the world of the dead.”
Richard froze still as stone. The room seemed too quiet, too small, too hot.
“What did you say?”
Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “When I looked beyond that curtain, I knew that I was looking beyond the veil into—”
“You said it was green.”
Sammie’s brow bunched as she fought back new tears. “That’s right.”
“Why would you say it’s green?”
Perplexed, she frowned up at him. “Because it was. It was like a shimmering green curtain of fog. It rippled, brighter and darker, something like a wispy, sheer, transparent green curtain moving in a breath of breeze. It’s kind of hard to describe.
“Beyond that awful veil of green I saw what looked to me like a churning mass of spirits. They were all screaming as if in terrible agony. That was the sound I heard. Some of the forms ripped apart as they screamed, while yet more of them constantly boiled up from the blackness below to take the place of those that disintegrated, in turn adding their ghastly screams to the sea of souls, all fusing into one, long, hopeless cry.
“Some of them saw me and tried to grab for me, but they couldn’t reach through that green veil. Others beckoned me to come to them instead. It was death calling to me, trying to pull me in.”
Richard turned and stared down at Kahlan. He had encountered the underworld a number of times. The veil before the world of the dead was always an eerie green color.
He slowly sank to his knees beside the unconscious form of the woman he loved more than life itself. “Dear spirits, what is going on?”
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What is it?” Ester looked back and forth between Sammie and Kahlan. “Lord Rahl, what is it? Do you know what it means? Do you know what’s wrong with her?”
Instead of answering, Richard laid a hand on Kahlan’s shoulder, feeling her warmth, her breathing, the life in her. Despite how sick he felt, he ignored his own pain. She was in grave trouble and needed help. She needed gifted help.
She needed more help than Sammie was able to give.
He shut himself off from everything around him as he retreated into the calm center within himself. The people outside in the corridors and rooms of the cliff dwelling no longer seemed at all close. The faint undertone of their voices gradually faded away. Ester’s and Sammie’s voices became distant murmurs as he focused on what needed to be done, on what Kahlan needed done.
In that inner silence, he sought to release himself into Kahlan to heal her, or at least to try to sense what the problem was. He wanted to see it for himself. He wanted to deal with it himself. He wanted to extinguish that hidden terror. Most of all, he wanted to take away her pain. He ached to see her open her eyes and smile up at him.
Even though he had healed Kahlan before when she had been grievously hurt, this time as he tried desperately to call forth that healing ability within himself, he couldn’t seem to find the way to do it. It didn’t exactly feel as if he was having difficulty recalling how to heal—it felt more like he had never known how to do it. It was maddening to feel like he knew where he wanted to go, to know that he had been there before, but not to be able to find the path back.
Whatever he had done in the past to heal people seemed simply to no longer be there. If he didn’t know better, he would think that he had never healed anyone before. He couldn’t imagine what component was missing, or how to find it.
Where he should have felt his inner empathy coming to the surface to take him into Kahlan’s suffering, he felt nothing.
As desperate as he was to help her, he realized that wasn’t the only trouble on his hands.
He knew without a doubt that he should have at least felt something, but he didn’t. He remembered all too well that it had been much the same back at the wagon when he had reached down inside himself to call on his gift to help him protect Kahlan from those men. Nothing had happened then, either. If there was ever a case where his gift should have worked, it would be to protect her and to heal her.
It wasn’t that he was simply too injured himself or too weak to heal her. He knew now that something more was going on. Whatever the problem, he didn’t know how to compensate for it.
His level of fear and alarm rose as he wondered if his gift was gone.
In place of the healing power of his gift that he should have felt, he realized that he could hear the slightest of sounds. As he concentrated on listening, trying to hear what it was, his blood ran cold as he realized that it sounded like distant screams.
He didn’t know if those screams were coming from something he felt in Kahlan … or in himself. He wondered if he might be imagining it. He couldn’t help feeling haunted by the things Sammie had told him she had experienced.
He fought back a rising sense of panic. He had told Sammie to calm down, that panic wouldn’t help. He knew that he had to take his own advice. He had to think if he was to act effectively.
For whatever reason, what he was doing to try to heal Kahlan was not working. He opened his eyes, rose up, and took a long stride back to the girl.
“Did you sense it in her, too?” Sammie asked.
Richard shook his head. “What else did you sense in her?”
Sammie looked confused by the question and intimidated by him towering over her. “Nothing. I was afraid. I drew back out of her.”
Richard turned to look down at Kahlan, pinching his lower lip as he thought it through.
Whatever was wrong with Kahlan, it had to have happened in the Hedge Maid’s lair. Whatever was wrong with him had started there as well. He and Kahlan had both been unconscious when Zedd, Nicci, and Cara found them.
Richard remembered killing the Hedge Maid. He had been warned that his sword, and his gift, would not work against her. The Omen machine, though, had given him a prophecy: Your only chance is to let the truth escape.
With that clue, he had realized that the way to stop that vile creature was to cut the leather strips sewing her mouth closed. Doing so had caused her to release an inner scream held back for most of her life by those leather strips. It had brought about the release of the corruption and death that had been contained and festering within her.
First, though, knowing what he had been about to do, Richard had wadded up small pieces of cloth and stuffed them in Kahlan’s and his own ears to keep both of them from hearing that malevolent cry born in the world of the dead—to prevent them from hearing the call of death itself.
At least, he thought it had kept them from hearing it.
He turned back to Sammie. “I need you to use your gift on me, the way you did when you tried to heal Kahlan. I need to know if you can sense that same thing in me that you sensed in her.”
Sammie shook her head as she shrank back.
“Listen to me!” he yelled, freezing her in her tracks. “Lives are at stake. I’m not asking you to go beyond that green veil and cross over into what you sensed as death, but I need to know if the same thing you sensed in Kahlan is within me as well.”
When she again started backing away he grabbed her slender wrist. “Listen to me, Sammie. You were able to back out of Kahlan, weren’t you?”
Her eyes turned fearfully toward Kahlan. “Yes.”
“So then it can’t pull you in. Whatever you sensed in her doesn’t have the power to do that. You are in control. Even though you went down deep into her you pulled yourself back out, didn’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Didn’t you?” he repeated.
He knew that he was frightening her, but it couldn’t be helped.
“I suppose so,” she finally said.
“Then you are the one in control, not what you saw in her. That evil may try to pull you toward it, but you have free will and are able to resist that dark call. You make the choice not to be pulled in by evil.”
Sammie let her arm drop when he released her wrist. “I guess you’re right.”
“I know I am,” Richard said. “I know because you came back of your own free will. But I also know because others were healing Kahlan and me when we were attacked. They both have vast experience and know a great deal more about healing than either you or I will likely ever know. They would have sensed what was in her and they wouldn’t have been trying to heal her if it was a lethal trap.”
“But how can you be sure that they were healing her?”
“They healed the wound on her stomach.”
Sammie thought it over for a moment. “You’re right,” she finally admitted. “I felt that healing. I could tell that it was fresh, that not long before me someone else had been there healing her.”
“And they came back. You were able to come back, too. That means you are in control. You aren’t helpless to that call of death.”
She looked considerably more calm, even if she didn’t look at ease. “That makes sense.”
Richard took a step closer to her. “I need you to check me. I need to know if that same sickness is in me.”
She appraised his eyes for a moment with a look that was well beyond her years.
“You suspect that you have the same thing in you that she has in her, and you think that may be what’s keeping your gift from working,” she said.
It wasn’t a question.
Richard arched an eyebrow, then sat on the floor and crossed his legs. “Come on. Do it now. I need to know.”
Sammie let out a frustrated sigh, then gave in and sat before him. She followed Richard’s gaze to see a cat that had just sauntered into the room, peeking in the dark places behind the pillows against the far wall the way cats liked to do.
“I think that the cat sensed what I saw in the Mother Confessor,” Sammie said.
“The cat?”
She nodded as she crossed her legs, the way he had done. “My mother says that cats are sensitive to spirits, to things from the world of the dead.”
Richard looked at the girl for a moment without saying anything, then held his hands out. “Take my hands. Try to heal a few of my wounds. Do what you did with Kahlan.”
Sammie gave in with a sigh and finally took his hands. Richard, having trouble holding his left arm up, rested his forearms across his knees. His bite wound had started bleeding again.
Her hands looked tiny holding his. It occurred to him that right then, despite her young age and her inexperience, she wielded more power than he did. Not a comforting thought.
The girl closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. Richard did the same, hoping to help her do her job. Ester stood off to the side wringing her hands as she watched.
Richard tried not to think about what Sammie was doing, about what she might find. Instead, he thought about Zedd, Nicci, Cara, and Cara’s husband, Ben, the general who had led the troops to come find Richard and Kahlan. Richard needed to know what had happened to them. They would never have willingly left him and Kahlan to their fate.
He remembered the bones and remnants of uniforms. He remembered what the two men had said, that those with Richard and Kahlan had been attacked by people called the Shun-tuk. He remembered seeing masses of dead attackers. He remembered the vulgar visage of one of those dead whose bloodstained teeth had all been filed to points to better rip into flesh.
With the Hedge Maid dead, he had thought that the battle was over. It appeared that it had only just begun. Something more was going on. Something more than he understood.
He needed to find answers and he knew that time was working against everyone. If those people he cared so much about were in the hands of the Shun-tuk, then every day that went by made their survival less likely. The longer Kahlan went without gifted help, the worse he feared she was going to get. He was not much better off himself.
These people, too, the people of Stroyza, were in trouble, probably a great deal more trouble than they realized. They were used to the harsh conditions and dangers of the Dark Lands, but these savages who ate human flesh appeared to be something new.
Sammie gasped suddenly and yanked her hands back, releasing his as if they had burst into flames.
Richard leaned in. “What did you see?”
Sammie’s eyes were wide with terror and brimming with tears. Her breathing was ragged and quick.
“I felt your pain,” she whispered. “Dear spirits, how can you stand it?”
“I don’t have a choice. The lives of those I love and the people I am sworn to protect are at stake. That’s what matters to me the most at the moment. Now, what else did you feel?”
Sammie swiped tears from under her eyes. “I felt the same thing, Lord Rahl. You have the same thing in you as the Mother Confessor. Death, behind the veil of green. You both have death in you.”
Richard couldn’t say that he was surprised. He hadn’t really expected anything different. Both he and Kahlan had been exposed to the Hedge Maid’s screams, screams that had been unleashed from the underworld itself.
He looked up at Ester’s ashen face. “Bring Henrik to me.”
“You want the boy?” she looked confused. “Now? Lord Rahl, your wounds must be tended to. Your arm is bleeding again and it must—”
“Now,” Richard said.
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Richard turned from Kahlan’s unconscious form when he heard the sound of feet shuffling out in the passageway. Ester lifted the sheepskin out of the way for Henrik to duck in under it. When the boy saw Richard, he smiled, but the smile clearly betrayed his worry.
Richard returned the smile, trying to convey a sense of his own worry. “Thanks for coming, Henrik. Come, sit by me.”
Henrik cautiously sat on the floor, close to Richard and Sammie. His eyes, reflecting points of candlelight, lingered on Kahlan. He would be dead if not for her coming into Jit’s lair and freeing him.
“Is the Mother Confessor going to be all right, Lord Rahl?”
Richard shook his head. “I don’t know yet. We don’t know enough about exactly what’s wrong with her. I’m hoping that you can fill in some of the blanks and tell me something that will help us to know how to heal her.”
“I don’t know much about sickness and such, but I don’t think you can heal her.”
Richard was taken by surprise. “Why do you say that?”
“Because of what I overheard Zedd and Nicci talking about. They said that they could only hope to help both of you temporarily, until they could get you back to the People’s Palace.”
Puzzled, Sammie scooted a little closer. “The People’s Palace? Really? A palace? Did you hear why?”
Henrik nodded.
Seeing that they would be busy in conversation, Ester took the opportunity to pull the bucket of water and the bandages closer so that she could go back to her work on Kahlan’s wounds.
Richard lifted a hand, stopping Henrik from answering Sammie’s question. “I need you to start at the beginning. Tell me everything that happened. It’s important that we know all the details. Don’t leave anything out. Sometimes the little details have meaning that you may not realize are important, but I would.”
Richard couldn’t help thinking of all the times Zedd had told him the same thing. Zedd always wanted every little detail. Richard felt a little uncomfortable finding himself repeating those same things that he used to find so frustrating when Zedd had insisted on them.
Henrik pushed his disorderly fall of hair back from his eyes. “Well, the Mother Confessor came in and cut me out of the walls made of thorny vines that the Hedge Maid had used to imprison me, but then Jit showed up and captured her right as I was able to escape—but you already know that much of it because I ran into you as I was running out of Jit’s lair.
“You told me that your friends were on their way from the People’s Palace to help you, and you asked me to go and tell them where you and the Mother Confessor were. So I kept running and not too long after that I found the whole column of cavalry accompanying Zedd, Nicci, and Cara. They were pretty impatient to find you both. I told them where you were, and that Jit had the Mother Confessor. I told them that you were going to go in to save her.
“I went with them so I could show them the way. When we finally got to the Hedge Maid’s place we found you and the Mother Confessor inside. Jit was dead. She looked like her whole body had been torn apart from the inside. There was blood everywhere. It was a frightful sight.
“You and the Mother Confessor were both unconscious and bleeding badly. After Cara and the soldiers cut you out of the thorny vines where the Hedge Maid had you both trapped, Zedd burned that awful place to the ground. It was strange seeing such a fire burning in the middle of a watery swamp. It was a fierce fire. It lit the bottoms of the clouds. There’s not a scrap of Jit’s place left.”
“I’m glad to hear that much of it,” Richard said half to himself. “Then what?”
Henrik’s mouth twisted a little as he frowned in recollection. “The soldiers laid you both in the back of a wagon. Cara was so angry that you and the Mother Confessor were hurt that she looked ready to spit fire herself.”
Richard couldn’t help smiling. “I can only imagine.” His smile faded when he thought about the danger Cara and the rest of them were in. He needed to find them, and soon.
“Go on.”
“With the cavalry leading, we started back, headed for the People’s Palace,” Henrik said. “Zedd and Nicci were tending to the both of you. At first, Zedd was really upset about how badly you were both hurt.
“As they were walking along beside the wagon, Zedd found a little wad of rolled-up cloth in your ear. Nicci found the same thing in Kahlan’s ears. She said ‘No wonder they’re alive.’
“Zedd didn’t understand. Nicci told him that it was said that the scream of a Hedge Maid, if she were ever to open her mouth all the way and let it out, was the sound of the Keeper of the underworld himself. Nicci said that the sound of such a scream would pull the Hedge Maid and anyone who hears it into the underworld. She said that the unleashed scream of a Hedge Maid is death, even to herself, so at a young age, before they can fully develop a voice capable of calling death into the world of life, a Hedge Maid’s mother sews her lips shut with leather strips imbued with occult powers that hold death back.
“Nicci said that she suspected that you both were alive because you stuffed those wads of cloth in your ears and that shielded you from the full power of that scream.
“Zedd wanted to know how she knew so much about such things. Nicci said that she knew because she had once been a Sister of the Dark serving the Keeper of the underworld. She said that Hedge Maids were vile creatures who use a kind of occult conjuring that is directly linked to the world of the dead.
“She said that such powers were a perversion of the Grace and as such not able to be touched by regular gifted ability. She said that was what made a Hedge Maid so dangerous, that Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor would have no power against her.
“Nicci explained to them, then, how you both were touched not just by the Hedge Maid’s occult conjuring and the things she was doing to you, but more importantly you were both touched by her scream. She said that through that scream you both were touched by death itself and therefore infected with it.”
Sammie gave Richard a look, as if to say “I told you so.”
Richard rolled his hand for Henrik to go on.
“Well, Zedd didn’t exactly believe everything Nicci was telling him about the power of such a scream born in the underworld and death infecting you both.”
“Sound familiar?” Sammie asked under her breath.
Richard gave her a sideways look but didn’t say anything.
Henrik was involved in his story and didn’t hear her. “So Nicci put two fingers on Kahlan’s head. She told Zedd, ‘Here, see for yourself.’ He leaned in and put two fingers on Kahlan’s head next to Nicci’s fingers. She asked if he felt it.
“Zedd said that he felt some kind of frightening, deathly darkness. Nicci told him that what he was feeling was the touch of death from the Hedge Maid that you both carried in you.”
“Just like I said,” Sammie noted.
Richard nodded. “You were right.”
She smiled at the triumph as Henrik continued his story.
“Zedd was really afraid because of what he’d felt in Kahlan. Cara got scared, too. She asked if you both were going to die because you had death hiding in you. Nicci said not if she had anything to do with it.
“Nicci said that you both were only alive because the wads of cloth you had stuffed in your ears blunted the full sounds of death’s call, but it still had infected you both.”
“Did they say how to heal them?” Sammie asked, suddenly excited about the possibility of having an answer to the riddle.
“Nicci said that she thought she could do it, but that it had to be done in something called a containment field.”
Richard felt as if the floor fell out from under him. It was no longer a simple matter of being healed by a gifted person. This was no simple injury. It was going to take more than a simple healing if the real threat within them was to be addressed.
“A containment field?” Sammie’s nose wrinkled up. “What’s a containment field?”
Henrik shrugged with the discomfort of not having the answer for her.
“It’s a place that keeps any foreign spells out while you work on or open up dangerous forms of magic,” Richard told her. “More importantly, though, it also keeps contained those things you unleash—either intentionally or accidentally. Things you wouldn’t want escaping.”
Sammie looked stunned by the description. “Where can we get one of these containment fields? How do you make one?”
“They’re ancient,” Richard said. “As far as I know, they were made ages ago by powerful wizards. I only know of a few, and they’re thousands of years old.”
“There’s one at the People’s Palace,” Henrik said.
“That’s right,” Richard said as he nodded. “The Garden of Life is a containment field.”
Henrik squinted as he tried to recount it all accurately. “Nicci told Zedd that she needed a containment field to shield you and the Mother Confessor while she did what was needed. She said that she had to remove the touch of death lodged within you both.
“She said that because the Grace was corrupted and twisted within you both by that infection, if they tried to remove it outside a containment field, then the call of death would draw the Keeper of the dead to you and both of you would die. She said that they could heal your other injuries, though, and they should do that right away to keep you alive until they could get back to the containment field.”
Sammie was astonished by such exotic tales. “I would love to see a palace. I bet it’s magnificent. I never heard of a containment field before. What does it look like?”
Richard gestured overhead. “This particular one at the People’s Palace is a beautiful garden with a glass roof and—”
“Glass roof!” Sammie’s jaw fell open. “I’ve never even dreamed of such an incredible thing. I’d give anything to see such a grand palace.”
“Maybe someday you can,” Richard said. He was impatient for Henrik to go on with the story. “Then what?”
“Zedd said that they needed to hurry back to the palace, because you were both hurt so bad. He bent in over Kahlan, worried about the terrible wound on her stomach. Bouncing in the wagon made it open up and it was bleeding a lot. While he started to heal her, Nicci walked along on the other side of the wagon and reached down to start healing you, Lord Rahl.
“Cara was relieved to see that Zedd and Nicci were finally working on healing you both, so she got up into the wagon’s seat and sat next to her husband, General Meiffert. She helped pull me up to sit next to her while Zedd and Nicci worked.”
“So why didn’t they finish healing us?” Richard asked. “What happened to everyone?”
Henrik looked like he wished he didn’t have to tell that part of the story.
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Henrik’s face turned grim as he stared off into his memories.
“Well,” he said at last as he went on with the account, “we were going as fast as General Meiffert said he dared push the horses. Everyone was worried about you and the Mother Confessor and they all wanted to get you out of the Dark Lands and back to the palace.
“Zedd and Nicci both had to climb up in the wagon so they could work on healing you. Zedd cursed, then, and told them that they were going to have to slow down because the Mother Confessor was hurt bad and he needed to close up the wound, but he couldn’t do it when the wagon was bouncing around.”
“Did they say anything at all about what they were going to do to heal them?” Sammie asked the boy as she eagerly leaned in. “Did they say how they were able to do it with that touch of death in them?”
Henrik shook his head. “I don’t know anything about healing or how magic works. I only know that I heard Nicci say to Zedd that they could heal the injuries, but would have to leave the touch of death in them until they got to the palace and the containment field.”
“That much of it is good news,” Richard told Sammie. “It confirms what I thought, that you can do a healing of the other problems even with what you saw in us.”
She nodded in thought as she listened to Henrik go on.
“It was getting dark. Zedd and Nicci bent over you both, using their gift to heal you.” As he stared off into his memories again, his voice occasionally broke. “As they worked, everyone else was keeping a close watch on the surrounding countryside. The Dark Lands are a dangerous enough place in the daylight, but everyone knows that out here you don’t want to be outside at night if you can help it.”
Henrik idly fingered the edge of the coarse carpet they were sitting on. “I guess we couldn’t help it.”
“I guess not,” Richard said, feeling guilty for being the one responsible for bringing his friends into the Dark Lands to help him.
“We were going along for a while without talking, going pretty slow as Zedd had instructed so he and Nicci could concentrate on trying to heal both of you. Then, all of a sudden, they both looked up.”
“At the same time?” Sammie asked.
Henrik nodded.
“If they both looked up at the same time it must be because they sensed something through their gift,” Sammie said to Richard.
Richard only nodded, not wanting to interrupt Henrik’s story.
“Zedd whispered to the general, up on the wagon seat on the other side of Cara from me, that there were people out there in the darkness. The general asked how many people. Zedd paused a moment, and then said, ‘A lot of people.’ I looked around but I couldn’t see anyone.”
Henrik stared off into the distance, as if seeing it in his mind’s eye again. “Even though I couldn’t see them, it seemed as though I could feel their eyes watching us from back in the darkness of the trees. There was forest all around, and it gave whatever Zedd and Nicci sensed plenty of places to hide.
“With the clouds, the moon didn’t provide much light. It was hard to see much of anything. Whoever was back in those dark woods, we couldn’t see them.”
Henrik swallowed. “I was afraid. Really afraid. I think everyone kind of knew that we might be in some kind of trouble, but no one knew what to expect. I saw some of the soldiers get a better grip on their lances while others touched their swords, all of them making sure that their weapons were ready.
“Then, all of a sudden, we saw movement off at the tree line to the right. Even as dark as it was, there was still enough light that we were able to see masses of people as they poured out of the woods. None of them made a sound as they came rushing out of the trees. They weren’t yelling battle cries or anything. That silence from those people made it even more frightening to watch them coming. There were so many that it looked like the ground was moving. I was scared to death.
“Cara asked her husband if we shouldn’t try running with the wagon. Before the general could answer, Zedd spoke up to say that we couldn’t outrun them. He said that they were out ahead of us as well as behind. He said we were surrounded.
“The soldiers pulled their horses around to shield the wagon. All the lancers formed an outer ring and lowered their lances toward the advancing horde. It was hard to imagine anyone trying to run up on those lancers.
“At the same time, other men, in an inner ring behind the lancers, drew their swords. Yet others pulled battle-axes from hooks on their weapon belts. There weren’t a lot of soldiers with us and seeing how many people were rushing in toward us I wished there were more, but they were D’Haran soldiers, after all. Seeing all those big men draw their weapons made me think that maybe we had a chance.”
They would not have been regular D’Haran soldiers. Richard knew that the men who had come from the palace with Zedd, Nicci, and Cara would have been men of the First File. The First File, led by General Meiffert, were the Lord Rahl’s personal guards at the People’s Palace. They weren’t simply the biggest and best of the D’Haran troops, they were the elite fighters. They were disciplined, skilled in combat, and prepared to fight. They lived for just this sort of duty. They had competed all their lives to earn their place at the point of the spear.
“Zedd stood up in the wagon trying to see better,” Henrik said. “Nicci stood up too, growling in anger over having to stop working on healing you, Lord Rahl, saying that she needed more time. As people kept streaming out of the woods, all of them running toward us, Zedd told her that it looked to him like their time had run out.
“General Meiffert told his men that he didn’t want to stand and fight, but it looked like they were going to have to. Cara suggested putting you and the Mother Confessor over the back of horses. She said she and a couple soldiers could run for safety while the rest of the soldiers held the horde at bay. Zedd said in a low voice that it was a bad idea. When she asked why, he said that the worst thing you could do was run from predators because it excited them to chase. He said that there were people coming in from all directions and they would run down anyone who tried to get away.”
The room was dead silent except for the soft, sputtering hiss of the candle flames. Sammie sat frozen, wide-eyed as she waited to hear what had happened next. Even Ester had stopped working. Her hand, holding a poultice, floated frozen above Kahlan.
“Then Zedd threw his hands toward the sky, sending up a flare of light,” Henrik said. “At first, as it rose high up into the air, it was only a spark, but then it exploded into a bright, sparkling fire that lit the countryside all around.”
Henrik’s eyes brimmed with tears. “In that flare of light, we could finally see the thousands and thousands coming for us. I saw not only men racing toward us, but women, too. Most of the men had no shirts and were bare-legged. I didn’t see any of them with swords or spears or shields. A lot of them had knives, though. So did the women. Our men were on horseback and had much better weapons. I would have felt better about that were we not so overwhelmingly outnumbered.
“The fire that Zedd had sent up started to die out, and it was getting harder to see all the people racing toward us. As they got even closer, he tried to send up another flare of fire to replace the one that was fading, but nothing happened. Nicci asked what was wrong. Zedd looked confused. He stammered and said that he didn’t know. So Nicci tried then, but it didn’t work for her, either.”
Henrik swallowed again and looked down for a moment. Richard put a hand on the boy’s shoulder but didn’t say anything, instead giving him the time to find his words.
Henrik cleared his throat. “When they were close enough that they would be able to hear him, the commander of the cavalry stood in his stirrups and yelled at the people running in toward us, warning them to stop, to stay back, or they would die. It didn’t do any good.
“All the people had been silent up till then, but after the general told them to stay back or they would die, they started yelling battle cries, like they were eager for such a fight. It wasn’t the battle cries of soldiers, but some kind of shrill shrieks. It sounded to me like they were evil spirits charging out from the world of the dead. Their yells all jumbled together into an eerie howl that made my hair stand on end.
“When General Meiffert saw that they weren’t going to stop, and we could see the knives raised, there was no doubt that they intended to attack us, so he ordered the cavalry to cut them down before they could get too close. About half the men raced away across the open ground while the other half shielded the wagon.
“The cavalry sliced into the leading edge of the swarm, cutting them down like scything down a wheat field at harvest. Even though it was dark, there was enough light from the moon that I could see people falling in great numbers.
“I was relieved, thinking that such powerful cavalrymen would cause the attackers to break and flee in fright. But then I saw that the enemy didn’t fear the men on horseback. Most didn’t even cry out as they were cut down. Even though the cavalry was slicing down hundreds of enemy, it seemed that for every one that fell ten more appeared out of the trees.
“Then I saw the first man unhorsed. He was a big man, fighting fiercely, cutting down attackers by the dozens as he charged through the leading edge of the enemy. Unafraid, the people paid no attention to the danger and swarmed in around him as he was attacking. He hacked them to pieces as they came. His horse trampled a number of them. But he was overwhelmed by the incredible numbers pressing in on him.
“There were so many people piling in that there was no room for all those who were trying to get at him. They swarmed in, climbing over the backs of others both living and dead, trying to be the first to get at him. People were trampled and crushed by their own kind. None of them seemed to care about the dead and dying. They only cared about getting at the man on horseback.
“Despite how the soldier and his powerful horse struggled and fought, the weight of all the people finally dragged the big animal to a stop. Even as other soldiers raced to try to help him, hacking at the enemy to get through, I saw dozens and dozens of arms flailing, stabbing at the horse until it went down.”
Henrik swallowed again, and again wiped at his eyes. “Then they all piled on the man like a pack of wolves. The thing was, they weren’t stabbing at him, like they had been stabbing at the horse.”
Sammie frowned when Henrik fell silent for a time. “What were they doing, then?”
Richard knew the answer. It had almost happened to him.
“The throng seized his arms, legs, even his hair, and from what I could see it looked like they were all ripping into him with their teeth. They were tearing into him like a pack of wolves on a lamb.”
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Sammie glanced at the bleeding bite wound on Richard’s arm. “Just like the way they were starting to use their teeth when they attacked you, Lord Rahl.”
“It would seem so,” Richard said, waiting for Henrik to gather his thoughts and go on.
Richard knew that what he was hearing from Henrik about the bizarre attack fit with what he had overheard from the two men who had attacked him. As he had been waking up, he heard them talking about the Shun-tuk eating people. He remembered all too well seeing human bones and parts of D’Haran uniforms not far from the wagon. He didn’t know how many more such remains there might have been out in the darkness. He feared to imagine.
From what Richard knew, as crazy as it sounded, the two men had thought they could somehow capture his soul by eating him. Had it not been for the people of Stroyza, they surely would have killed him in the attempt.
“I saw more of our men going down,” Henrik said, his jaw trembling. “I heard some of those men scream in pain as they were pulled from their horses and torn apart while they were still alive and struggling.”
“What about Zedd and Nicci?” Richard asked. “Weren’t they using their gift to try to stop this horde of people? I’ve seen Zedd use wizard’s fire on enemy troops. It’s devastating, even when the enemy was coming in great numbers like you describe. The two of them should have been able to do something.”
Henrik wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Zedd was trying, Lord Rahl. As the charge of all those people got closer, more of our men joined the battle to try to fight them back and keep them away from you and the Mother Confessor in the wagon. The soldiers fought fiercely but the swarm of people were all howling like demons that had escaped the underworld and they just kept coming.
“With all the yelling and screaming, it was hard to hear. But I did hear Zedd and Nicci talking. The two of them were pretty frantic to do something that would help keep the advancing people away. I don’t know much about such things and I didn’t hear all of what they were saying, but I could tell that they were both trying their best to conjure things and cast their power out to fight back the waves of people charging toward us. It seemed that nothing they were doing, though, was working the way they expected. I don’t know what was wrong, but I can tell you that as hard as they were trying, if their gift would have been working right they might have been able to stop the enemy.
“Sometimes, though, something they did would work. At least, it worked to a degree. When nothing else seemed to work, I saw both Zedd and Nicci push their arms out together, with their palms raised, as if pushing against an invisible wall. When they did that, occasionally groups of people were thrown back and tumbled across the ground, knocking down others behind them. It blew them back like leaves in a gust of wind. While it did work, it only worked against small numbers at a time. It was taking them a lot of effort to do that much but it wasn’t nearly enough to cope with the endless numbers that were racing toward us across the open ground.
“Zedd looked over at Cara, then, and told her what even I could see, that something was wrong with their abilities and it wasn’t going to be enough. The general said that above all else they had to protect you, Lord Rahl, and the Mother Confessor. He told Zedd, then, that if they all took a stand to defend the wagon, the people coming for them would know that we were protecting something important.
“Nicci asked what he was proposing. The general said that they had to abandon the wagon.
“I thought Cara might break his neck for saying that. She yelled at him, saying that as long as she was alive and could fight, she wouldn’t leave you for anything. He shouted her down, saying that if they left the wagon, like it didn’t mean anything to them, and instead made it look like they were running to try to escape, then the enemy would come after them and leave the wagon, thinking it was unimportant. He said that they appeared to want to attack and kill them. He said that they weren’t dying by the hundreds just to steal what looked to be nothing more than an empty wagon.
“Nicci said that he was right. Zedd said that he hated to admit it, but he agreed. He also said that they had better hurry and decide or it was going to be too late for the plan to do any good.
“Cara’s jaw was clenched so tight she couldn’t speak. Her face was as red as her leather outfit. Finally, she growled and leaped down into the bed of the wagon. She hurried to unfurl an old tarp that was shoved in the corner and with Nicci’s help pulled it out and along the wagon bed, covering up the both of you so that it looked like it was just a mostly empty supply wagon.”
Richard finally understood the mystery of why he and Kahlan were all alone in the back of the wagon, unconscious, lying under a tarp.
“I don’t know that I would have thought of doing that,” Richard said. “Ben is a general for good reason. So what happened next?”
“Cara lifted me off the wagon seat and set me down in the bed of the wagon with her. While her husband, Zedd, and Nicci jumped to the ground, she bent close and pointed her Agiel at my face. She told me to listen, and listen close. She quickly glanced toward a spot in the woods to the other side from most of the attackers, to where I didn’t see anyone.
“She leaned close again and asked if I saw the path into the woods. I didn’t see it, but I was afraid to say so. She said that she wanted me to run for that path and get away.”
“Run?” Sammie asked. “If there was a place where there were no people, then why didn’t all of you go that way and try to escape?”
“I asked her that. I begged her to come with me. She said that carrying Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor would slow them down and not only that, but they couldn’t see to run fast enough in the woods. She said that with that many of them running to try to escape they would be spotted and chased. She said they would be caught in there, and then the enemy would have Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor.
“She said that above all, saving you, Lord Rahl, and the Mother Confessor was what mattered to D’Hara and to the future of everyone.
“She told me that Benjamin was right, that this was the only chance they had to save you both, but they had to act fast. She said they would run in another direction making it look like they were trying to get away so that the people would chase after them and hopefully not even realize that the two of you had been left hidden in the abandoned wagon.
“I asked what was going to happen to her and the general, and Zedd and Nicci, and all the rest of the men.” Henrik paused briefly to choke back a sob. “Cara gritted her teeth and said they were doing what they had to do to protect you.”
Henrik dissolved into tears, choking back sobs. Sammie put a hand over his and softly told him that she understood. Her eyes, too, brimmed with tears. She told the boy that the same thing had happened to her father, and that her mother was missing. She told him that she knew what it felt like to hurt inside from losing people you loved.
Henrik was surprised to hear about her parents. He told her that he was sorry. Sammie squeezed his hand and told him that there was grave trouble at hand, and they all had to be brave.
When she asked, Henrik finally went on with the story. “Cara lifted me down over the side of the wagon and set me on the ground. The general yelled back to her from the other side of the wagon, telling her to hurry. She nodded then turned back to me.
“She pointed her Agiel at my face again and told me to run like the wind and get away. She told me that I had to get away so that I could find help for Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor. She said that they were all counting on me. She said that they would try to lead the enemy in the other direction to buy me time so that I could slip away through the woods and find help.
“I was terrified. I didn’t want to leave them. I asked what was going to happen to her and the others.
“She said not to worry about them. She said that my job was to run, to get away, and to find help. I stood there trembling, staring at her, unable to believe it was happening. Cara grabbed my jaw and said, ‘Run. Don’t look back. Don’t stop for anything. Get help for them. Understand?’ I nodded that I did. I couldn’t answer because I was too afraid to talk.
“Cara pointed off into the darkness with her Agiel and said, ‘Go!’ I turned to go, but then she grabbed my arm.
“I turned back and she was real close, looking right into my eyes. She said, ‘Don’t let us die for nothing, Henrik. Find them help no matter what. Make our lives count for something. Get them help.’ I said, ‘I promise, Cara.’
“As I turned to run, I saw her race around the wagon to join the others. And then they all ran, the howling enemy right on their heels.”
Henrik’s words dissolved into sobs.
Richard was in so much pain that his hands shook. His breathing was ragged. But the pain seemed distant in the numb haze of his grief.
He rubbed the boy’s shoulder, understanding his emotions, feeling great sorrow for his ordeal. His own heartache felt as if it would crush his chest.
“As I ran toward the woods, I finally spotted the trail,” Henrik said, trying mightily to pull himself together enough to finish the story. “I heard the howls around me. I raced onto the trail without slowing to look back. Before I had taken ten strides down the dark trail, I saw someone moving back in the trees. I froze. They didn’t spot me. I saw dark shapes moving through the brush. I realized that the enemy was in the woods and remembered that Zedd had said that they were all around us. They had been lying in wait in case anyone tried to escape in that direction.”
“It was a trap,” Richard said. “They made it look empty and inviting as an escape route to draw people in. They were waiting in ambush.”
Henrik nodded. “I guess. Because I’m small, or maybe it was because I was alone there in the dark and there was so much noise going on back the way I’d come, they didn’t spot me. Once they realized that the cavalry and the others were running to try to escape in the other direction they all went crazy, howling as they raced out of the cover of the woods to join the chase.
“When I saw them coming I knew that if I kept going down the trail they would soon have me. I was trapped and there was nowhere to run, so I dove behind a fallen tree. I clawed through the soft moss and decayed wood to squeeze in under the trunk.
“I lay as still as I could, holding my breath where I hid. I could just make out dark shapes moving through the trees. Closer in a lot of legs ran past me. More and more people kept running by all the time. Thousands, it seemed, ran past. I could hear the sound of all their feet rumbling through the forest.
“I was terrified that any moment one of them would spot me and then reach down and pull me out. I knew that if they did, they would tear me apart with their teeth the way they had the man I saw pulled off his horse and killed.
“I stayed hidden a long time, too afraid to move. I could hear them making that awful shrieking sound as they charged through the trees like a pack of wild animals on the scent of blood.”
Henrik looked up at Richard. “The general and the others were right not to have tried to take you and the Mother Confessor back through those woods. If they had, you would be dead now.”
Richard knew that he owed his life, Kahlan’s life, to his friends. It didn’t seem fair that he should live at the cost of their lives. He desperately wanted to find a way to help them … if they were still alive.
“Finally,” Henrik said, “after what seemed forever, I didn’t hear any more people running past. I could hear all the howls and cries from them as they went after Cara and the others. That noise kept getting farther away.
“After it was quiet in the woods for a time, I finally dared to crawl out and take a careful look around. The woods were dead still and I didn’t see anyone. I started running.”
“So then, as you were running along the trail, you came to this place?” Richard asked.
Henrik nodded. “I found people here caring for their animals. I begged them to come help you. Thankfully, they did.”
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After Cara told me to run, I never saw what happened to all of them.” Henrik’s head hung as he cried quietly in sorrow for those he had left behind to their fate.
Sammie put a comforting arm around Henrik’s shoulders. Her eyes glistened with tears as well. With her father murdered in the same way as Henrik described and her mother missing, very possibly a victim of the same grim end, she clearly empathized with Henrik’s misery.
Ester turned to Richard as she spoke into the silence, taking up the rest of the story. “When the boy showed up here we couldn’t understand what he was talking about. He wasn’t making much sense. He was frantic to get help, that much was clear, but we were having a hard time of getting him to slow down enough so we could understand what kind of help he needed. He kept pointing and telling us to hurry.
“When we began to grasp that he had been with people who had been attacked, and that there were two injured people who needed help, we knew that we couldn’t wait for him to tell the whole story. It’s dangerous in the Dark Lands at night, and it was evident that your party had somehow fallen victim to something awful. We knew that we had to go right away to find you and get you both out of danger. We figured we could get all the details later.
“As reluctant as we were to venture out into the wilderness at night, we also feared what would happen if we didn’t help. The Dark Lands are sparsely populated. There are dangers, to be sure, and it can be especially dangerous at night, but we had never heard of so many people as it seemed Henrik was describing attacking them.
“We thought that maybe he was imagining things because he was so afraid. It was not only difficult for us to believe what we thought he was telling us, he was having trouble telling us the whole story because he was frantically concerned with us hurrying to go help you. We had no trouble believing, though, because of his panicked state, that you had been attacked by someone and the situation was serious.
“Henrik didn’t know where you were, exactly. We finally got it out of him that you had come from Kharga Trace, from the Hedge Maid. That was enough to tell us what we needed to know. There is only one, seldom-used road that goes in the direction of that swampy place, so we had a good idea where to look. We left the boy up here where it was safe while we went out to look for you.”
“You did good, Henrik,” Richard told the boy. “You saved our lives.”
Henrik managed a small smile. “Just returning the favor, Lord Rahl. You and the Mother Confessor saved my life.” He gestured toward Kahlan. “The Hedge Maid had me. Jit would have bled me dry like the other poor souls who were trapped like I was, but had no one come in time to help save them. They died in her lair. The Mother Confessor got me out.”
Richard nodded. “That’s the kind of person she is. She has always fought for life.” He rubbed his forehead as his gaze sank. “Now she’s fighting for hers.”
He was feeling dizzy, both from his injuries and from fear for his friends and loved ones after what Henrik had told him about the mysterious attack. The long war had ended. He had thought they were finally at peace and that life was returning to normal. He guessed that there was no such thing as normal out in the Dark Lands. He knew, though, that even for the Dark Lands this was out of the ordinary.
Sick with worry for the fate of his friends, his bite wound throbbing painfully, and his head pounding with what might be a developing fever, he needed to lie down.
After learning a little more about Zedd and Nicci beginning to heal them despite the Hedge Maid’s vile touch of death, he needed to have Sammie see to helping Kahlan. He needed help as well, but he knew that he could wait a bit. He didn’t know if she could.
Richard was about to ask Ester if she knew anything at all about the people who had attacked his friends, when he saw the cat across the room suddenly turn to the doorway and arch its back.
Teeth bared, the cat hissed. Its dark gray fur lifted until it was all standing on end.
Richard felt the hair on his own neck stiffen.
“Does it do that often?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Sammie pulled a long lock of curly black hair back from her face as she frowned at the cat. “No. Just when it’s frightened for some reason.”
The flames of several candles withered and died out, leaving a wisp of smoke to curl up into the still air.
Richard heard other cats out in the corridors beyond the doorway let out feral yowls.
Ester started to get up. “What in the world …”
Richard caught her arm, pulling her back, keeping her from going to the door. Henrik’s eyes widened at the chorus of feline screeches. Sammie’s frown deepened.
And then, someone in the distance let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Richard sprang up. Dizzy and light-headed, he struggled to keep from falling over as he focused his attention on the sounds outside in the corridors.
His hand instinctively found the hilt of his sword resting in its sheath at his hip. His fingers tightened around the wire-wound hilt as sudden cries of terror and pain rang out and echoed through the halls. At first there was only one scream, but others soon joined in a chorus of terror.
The sword’s anger instantly inundated him. The suddenness of it felt like being abruptly dropped into an icy river. The shock of it made him draw a sharp breath.
His own anger rose up out of those dark waters to join with the rage spiraling up from the ancient weapon. The icy shock turned hot with rage as a storm of power from the sword called forth its twin from somewhere deep within him.
With his hand on the hilt of that ancient weapon, whatever sickness he felt, whatever pain, whatever exhaustion and weakness weighed on him, it melted before the heat of rage that had sparked to life. The sword’s power, its anger, crackled within him, hungry for violence in reaction to the screams of terror and pain he was hearing from out in the passageways.
The unique sound of steel rang through the room as Richard drew his sword.
It felt exhilarating having it out, intoxicating to hold it in his fist. With the blade free, with the sword’s anger awakened, the Seeker and the Sword of Truth were now forged together in purpose and fierce intent.
They were now a singular weapon.
Ester shrank back at seeing him with his sword to hand. Distantly, Richard realized that his grim expression, and especially the look in his eyes, was probably frightening her.
Henrik scooted back toward the wall, wanting to be out of his way.
Sammie crouched protectively over Kahlan, ready to protect her from whatever might come through the door.
Richard didn’t intend to let anything come through the door.
He pointed the sword back at Kahlan as he spoke with quiet fury to Sammie. “Stay here and protect her.”
Looking determined, Sammie nodded.
Richard flipped the sheepskin covering up out of the way as he ducked under it and out into the hallway, headed toward the sound of the screams.
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As Richard raced out into the hallway, he heard not only terrified screams, but a kind of animalistic growl that could not have sounded more out of place in the world of life. The malevolent roar, a manifest threat to the living, reverberated through the dark passageways.
Richard didn’t know the layout of the labyrinth of corridors excavated through the soft rock of the mountain, or where all the passageways led and connected, but he knew the direction the screams were coming from, so he raced to follow the sound. He knew that the kind of cries he was hearing only came from people in mortal terror. Other screams he recognized as coming from those who were grievously injured or dying. He had heard those dreadful, primal shrieks before. With the war over, he had hoped never again to hear such gut-wrenching cries.
As he raced down the passageways, he began encountering clumps of people racing away from the screams of the injured and bone-chilling bellows of the attackers. Many of the people he ran past were screaming as well, but they were crying out in panic, not the kind of screams that people let out in the throes of death.
As he ran, Richard realized that he was getting lost in the confusing maze of passageways, but it wasn’t hard to follow the agonized cries toward their source. It didn’t really matter if he knew where he was, only that he knew where he was going, and the screams marked the route all too clearly. With his own pain and sickness forgotten for the moment—a distant concern banished by the rage of the sword—his only need was to get to those being hurt.
The part of the rage that came from his sword wanted to get at the ones doing the hurting. That part of the rage wanted the blood of the attacker.
Some of the people saw him coming with his sword to hand and flattened themselves against a wall to stay out of his way, but many others didn’t see him coming and he had to shove them aside. Women hurriedly herded children past, paying attention only to their charges. A few men helped older people. At times, as people desperate to escape the threat came racing past Richard, he had to use an arm to shield them from running into his sword. Other people, men and women, old and young alike, stampeded through, too terrorized by what was behind them to care about what was in front of them.
Before he saw the threat, he encountered a smell that was alien to the cavelike village of Stroyza. It was the unmistakable stench of decomposing flesh, a smell so sickening, so repulsive, that it made his throat clench shut to lock his breath in his lungs. He had to force himself to breathe.
As he rounded a curve in the passageway, Richard saw a broad open area out ahead. It was the entrance cavern of the village, the place where he first came in after he had climbed the narrow trail up the side of the mountain. Out the opening a gentle rain fell through the dark night.
A few lamps hung on pegs in the walls to one side and a fire burning in a pit to the other side provided the only light. In that dim, flickering light he could see people trying to stay out of the clutches of two big men. Both of the dark shapes stormed clumsily around the room, charging first one way, then another, swiping at people trapped in the room. Both of the big attackers glistened in the lamplight, wet from the climb up in the rain.
Some of the people cornered in nooks and crannies around the broad cavern pressed themselves back against the walls, hoping not to be noticed. Others inched toward openings, hoping for a chance to escape. Men keeping what they hoped was a safe distance waved their arms and threw stones, trying to distract and confuse the attackers.
In the center of the chamber the two figures, like bears in a cage, raged at the people around them, their thunderous roars echoing off the domed ceiling of rock. The smell of death and decay was overpowering.
Men popped out of dark passageways from time to time to pelt the attackers with rocks, trying to keep them from attacking. Most of the rocks missed or glanced off, though sometimes it did distract one of the two into taking a swing at the stones. A man on the right side raced in closer to heave a good-sized rock at one of the intruders. The rock hit the big man in the back of the head and bounced off, but it sounded like it had succeeded in cracking the man’s skull, yet the man wasn’t slowed and didn’t show any evidence of being harmed by the blow.
The other shadowy shape roared and rushed to intercept people trying to escape into a passageway. The two big men couldn’t control everyone, though, and when they turned away a few people managed to slip away into the dark opening. A few others sprang suddenly, ducking under the outstretched arms as the big men tried to snatch them. The lucky ones managed to dash into a corridor or over the edge and down the treacherous trail that came up the side of the mountain.
Not everyone was lucky enough to escape, though. Richard saw several broken bodies sprawled in a way that suggested that they had been killed and then thrown to the side. The floor of the cave glistened not only with rainwater but with pools of blood.
Even as Richard was racing across the room toward the dark shapes, one of them lunged and took a sudden swipe, catching a woman pressed back against a wall. With that one powerful blow, his clawlike hand ripped open her soft middle, splattering blood across the wall. Frozen in panic, the woman seemed unable to believe what had just happened. Richard knew that she did not yet feel the full pain of it. Stunned, eyes wide, she let out only small, panting cries as the realization of what had just happened began to sink in.
In that moment of frozen shock, the big man who had done the damage leaned in and snatched the stunned woman’s wrist. With frightening speed, the other dove in and grabbed the cornered woman’s ankle, pulling her feet out from under her. She hit the floor hard, letting out a grunt on impact.
As Richard charged across the cavern toward the two attackers, several cats leaped out of the darkness and onto the man holding the woman’s leg. He swiped one cat off his shoulder. The other clawed at his face. The man held on to the woman’s ankle, not seeming to be hurt by the cat’s claws. He swatted at the cat, trying to get it off his face, as if it were merely an annoyance.
At the same time, the other man twisted the woman’s arm around, ripping it away from her shoulder. With her remaining arm, she struggled weakly, clawing at the ground, trying to escape a fate past changing. The other man still had a firm grip on her ankle, keeping her from squirming away. Her screams lost their power as she mercifully lost consciousness.
As Richard charged in, screaming in rage, his sword flashed through the dim night air, coming down with lightning speed to sever the arm of the big man holding the woman’s disembodied arm. With a cracking sound, the bone splintered. Both disembodied arms, that of the woman and the other holding it in a death grip, tumbled to the floor.
Unconcerned with Richard, the man clutching the woman’s ankle turned toward the cave opening, swinging the woman around and up into the air. She sailed in an arc out into the rainy night, streaming blood and viscera behind her as she silently sailed out over the side of the cliff and down toward the rocks below.
Richard saw the point of a sword blade sticking out from between the man’s shoulder blades. He spun back toward Richard after throwing the woman out of the opening, ready to attack. It seemed impossible, but the man looked unaffected by the broken blade that had impaled him through the chest.
It was then, in the weak light from the fire pit off to the side, that Richard got his first good look at the killer.
Three knives were buried up to their brass cross guards in the man’s chest. Only the handles were showing. Richard saw, too, the broken end of a sword blade jutting out from the center of the man’s chest. The point of that same blade stuck out from the man’s back.
Richard recognized the knife handles. All three were the style carried by the men of the First File.
He looked from those blades that should have killed the big man, up into his face.
That was when he realized the true horror of the situation, and the reason for the unbearable stench of death.
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Richard found himself staring into the face of a corpse.
But it wasn’t the broken sword blade or the knives buried in his chest that had killed him.
It was all too obvious that the man had been dead long before he had ever been stabbed.
The man standing before him looked like a corpse that had been freshly dug up from a grave. The repulsive stink of death was as singular as it was overpowering. The smell alone was enough to drive Richard back a step.
The man’s outfit was so moldered and filthy that it was unrecognizable as to what it might once have looked like. In places the dark tatters of cloth were stained and discolored by bodily fluids that had oozed out during decay. As it had eventually dried, the cloth had stuck to the rotting flesh so that it became almost one with the body.
The lips had shriveled back to reveal the skull’s death grin of broken, blackened teeth. A thin veneer of dark, blotchy skin with a few sparse patches of pale hair covered the crown of the skull. The taut hide had rotted and parted in a few places—on one cheek, on the forehead, and in a long split over the top of the skull—allowing the stained bone beneath to show through.
Although he clearly looked cadaverous, the eyes were something altogether different. The man’s eyes momentarily stopped Richard cold in his tracks.
Richard had seen the indistinct but unmistakable glow of inherent power in the eyes of gifted people before, a glow that he had learned most others didn’t see. Such a light had always seemed to him to be too ethereal to be real, something he saw only through the eyes of his own gift. This man’s eyes also clearly carried a glow fired by the gift, yet that inner light was unlike any light of the gift he had ever seen before, and he didn’t need his own gift to see it. Rather than the transcendent light he had seen in the gifted, this was a fiery luminosity that everyone could see, an announcement to all of the evil lurking behind those eyes.
It was at once dead and empty, but at the same time alive with menace.
In the near darkness, the penetrating reddish glow of those eyes sent ripples of goose bumps up Richard’s arms.
Although he wasn’t an expert on the gift, he had read a great many historical documents on those ancient times when both sides of the gift were common. From what he had learned from the gifted he knew, and from those historical accounts, he had never heard of the gift being able to reanimate the dead.
He knew that those glowing eyes betrayed what animated this man—not life, not the gift, but some kind of occult sorcery.
Even though the dead condition of the man, the stench, and the glow in his eyes had stopped Richard in his tracks for an instant, there had never been any doubt of the man’s malevolent intent. Already Richard’s sword, in full fury, was arcing around toward the threat.
It was apparent from the three knives and the sword broken off in the man’s chest that he didn’t bleed any more than any long-dead, desiccated corpse could bleed, but that didn’t stop the anger storming through Richard from wanting to destroy this killer among them.
With lightning speed the blade came around and with one stroke cleanly beheaded the man before he could take another step toward Richard.
When the tumbling head hit the ground with a heavy thud, Richard saw that the glow was still there in the eyes. Before the rest of the body could fall he crushed in the face with a quick strike from his sword and then kicked the head out of the cave opening. Richard saw the reddish glow in the eyes fade away as the head sailed out into the rainy night.
But the headless body didn’t collapse. It took a step forward. As it took another step and kept coming, the arms reached out for Richard. Hands clawed, one arm swung at him. Richard lopped off the arm before it could be withdrawn. With two more quick slices from the razor-sharp blade he took off the other hand and then the arm it belonged to at the shoulder.
The armless, headless body kept coming, as if unaware that it was missing anything. With a scream of rage Richard brought his sword around again, slicing through the middle of the body. The blade shattered bone and crusted, dried skin. Bits of flesh with shredded cloth stuck to it and jagged bony pieces flew across the broad cavern.
As the disintegrating body was finally falling, the other man, the one with only one arm left, stalked resolutely toward Richard to continue the attack, roaring as he came. He looked to be fresher dead than the first man, and the stink of death and rotting flesh from him was even worse. Although he was clearly a walking corpse as well, he was not dried and shriveled like the other. Instead, the second man glistened with slimy decay. Places on the flesh of his bloated body had split open and oozed liquid. His swollen tongue protruded partway from his mouth, to an extent muffling his angry growls. Like the first man’s, his joints occasionally cracked and popped as he moved, yet it didn’t much hinder or slow him.
Richard instinctively thrust his sword through the killer’s chest. Much like the sword that had been run through the first man and then broke off, Richard’s sword didn’t appear to do any harm with this man, either. As he yanked his sword back out of the man’s chest, Richard took a step back. The man kept coming.
This second corpse had the same reddish glow to his dead eyes, like a window into the inferno of black art burning within him and powering his movements.
One of the men off to the side rushed up and in an attempt to help rammed a knife through the attacker’s neck. It did no more good than Richard’s sword had. The dead man staggered to a stop and with his one remaining arm backhanded the man who had come to Richard’s aid. The man cried out as he tumbled back across the cavern floor.
In that opening, Richard’s blade came around again. This time, Richard didn’t want to merely decapitate him like the first man. As the dead man turned back he was just in time to see the blade right as it met the side of his head. With an awful sound, the sword shattered the killer’s skull. Gooey chunks smacked the rock walls and stuck while bits of bone bounced off. Unlike the first man, this time there was nothing left of the head.
Without waiting to see if it would stop or slow the man, in quick succession Richard rained more blows down on the invader, taking off his other arm, then swiftly hacking his body into several pieces, finally taking the legs that were still standing before him down at the knees.
The roars of both attackers were finally ended. Injured people around the cavernous room screamed or moaned in pain. Others wept in terror. Many of those not hurt rushed out of hiding places to help those who were.
Richard nodded his thanks to the man who had tried to help by stabbing the attacker through the neck. Now back on his feet, the man stood wide-eyed at all that had just happened.
Panting from the effort and repulsed by the nauseating smell, Richard covered his mouth as he turned to the group of men who had been throwing rocks to try to stop the attack.
He took his hand away from his mouth. “What happened? Why wasn’t anyone watching? Didn’t you see these men coming up to your home?”
The men blinked in surprise and confusion, still clearly startled from the unexpected attack and stupefied by the bloody consequences.
“I’m sorry, Lord Rahl,” the man with the knife said. “We do keep a watch, but I guess not a very good one. With as dark as it is, and the rain, and with the dark clothing the men were wearing, we didn’t see them coming or even realize they were here until we heard the screams. Some of us came out to see what the trouble was but by then they were among us and it was already too late. That’s when we found ourselves in the middle of a fight for our lives.”
Richard clenched his jaw with the anger of the sword raging through him. He supposed that with the darkness and rain it would have been difficult to have seen the men or hear them coming.
“If someone had done a better job of standing watch,” he said, “all they would have had to do would have been to put a boot to these men as they tried to climb into here and that would have sent them crashing down the mountain.”
With sheepish expressions their gazes sank to the ground.
“You’re right, Lord Rahl,” another man said. “But nothing like this has ever happened before. I’m afraid that we weren’t expecting such an attack.”
Richard pointed his sword out into the night. “With that attack earlier tonight that Henrik came here and told you about, you should have been alert for trouble. Nothing like that has happened, either. You should have known that something was going on and been prepared, or at least on alert.”
The men hung their heads but said nothing.
“I’m sorry,” Richard said as he took a deep breath and tried to cool his anger. “I shouldn’t blame the victims.”
Some of the men nodded before moving off to help those who were down.
“Nothing like this has ever happened before, Lord Rahl,” the man with the knife said. He looked grief-stricken. “We just weren’t …” He swallowed back his heartache as his eyes wandered among the dead and injured.
With one hand, Richard gripped the man’s shoulder in sympathy. “I know. I’m sorry to sound so angry. These dead men were obviously being driven by some sort of occult conjuring. It could even be that whatever magic was animating them hid them from you so they could get up here. But you need to be on the alert and ready next time.”
The men brightened a bit at Richard’s suggestion that the attackers might have been hidden at first by magic.
The man with the knife used it to gesture toward the cavern opening. “I’ll make sure that there is a watch from now on, Lord Rahl. It won’t happen again.” His haunted gaze swept over the carnage. “I promise, we at least won’t be caught unaware again.”
Richard nodded as he turned back to the dead and injured, making sure that people who could be helped, were being helped.
He spotted an arm of one of the dead attackers nearby. The fingers were still moving, closing and opening, as if still trying to get hold of someone, still trying to attack.
Richard picked up the still-moving, desiccated arm and tossed it into the fire pit, where flames flared up as it caught fire.
As he looked around, it occurred to Richard that with so many people injured, Sammie was going to need to help them before tending to Richard and Kahlan. A number of people were dead. While a few weren’t badly hurt, some of the others had been seriously injured. They needed to be healed by a gifted person, and Sammie was the only one around.
He hoped the girl was up to the challenge. He knew that it would be difficult work even for an experienced sorceress.
As he was about to sheath his sword, he heard screaming break out farther back in the passageways.
When he heard the roar, he realized that there had been more than two invaders come to attack the village of Stroyza.
CHAPTER (#ulink_5864d228-4953-56db-b799-2cd65404749a)
17 (#ulink_5864d228-4953-56db-b799-2cd65404749a)
Richard stood stock-still for an instant, appraising which direction the sounds were coming from. Once he had the direction and approximate distance fixed in his mind, he raced into a passageway, following the sound of the screams. At least a dozen men followed close on his heels.
This time the men all had their knives out instead of bringing rocks. This time they would have a better understanding of what they faced and what they would need to do. Nothing less than hacking the attacker to pieces was going to stop him.
Richard knew that he was going in the right direction because the screams were getting steadily louder. Yet as he ran through the hallways, he occasionally had to pause briefly at intersections to listen again. The tricky way that sound echoed through the passageways made it difficult to tell right away which he needed to take. He ran as fast as he could through the confining, honeycombed network of rooms and passageways, knowing that any delay meant that more people would be hurt or killed. It was frustrating to have to stop at intersections to check for the sound of cries for help so that he could be sure to go in the right direction.
As he got closer to the screams, he realized that they were coming from the direction of where he had left Kahlan.
That realization would have spurred him to run even faster, but he was already going as fast as possible, racing with wild abandon down halls and flashing through intersections without slowing.
Coming around a dark corner, he ran square into a big man. He was as hard as an oak tree and barely moved when Richard crashed into him. Richard hadn’t seen him because he was dark and dried-out like the first of the two dead men he had fought. He stank of death like the others. The walking corpse was so blackened with decay that he blended right into the shadows.
As he staggered back, Richard saw that he had interrupted the invader as he was strangling a woman. As the lanterns from the men coming up from behind threw light on the attacker and his victim, Richard saw that the woman’s face was blue and her wide eyes were fixed and still. She would do no more screaming.
The attacker had both hands around the woman’s throat, holding her off the ground as he crushed her throat. Bone and dried tissue cracked and popped as his head turned. He glared at Richard with glowing red eyes as he bellowed in threat.
As Richard’s sword came down, the powerful blow severed both of the man’s arms at the crook in his elbows. The woman dropped to the ground like a sack of grain, slumping in a lifeless heap. The man roared again as he charged Richard, the stumps of arms held up, his jaws open wide, prepared to attack with his teeth since most of his arms were gone.
A swift blow cut the man’s head in half right across his open mouth. The skull shattered into fragments. Sinew and flesh crumbled under the powerful blow. Two more swings of the sword chopped the man apart. Richard saw the fingers of the disembodied arms on the floor grasping, trying to attack but unable to find or reach a victim.
Richard, still hot with rage from his sword, turned back to the men. “You need to burn all the pieces of these men to ashes. Collect it all and burn it.”
The men looked down, watching the fingers of one of the hands trying to pull its way across the floor toward Richard.
Richard crushed the still-moving hand under a boot heel, grinding the fingers to dust.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” Richard said, “but it seems pretty obvious that some kind of occult conjuring is involved. I don’t want any part of that conjuring left among you. Burn it all. Understand?”
The men all nodded earnestly, fearful of the heat in Richard’s voice even if they knew it wasn’t directed at them.
Hearing yet more screams, Richard turned to the sound. He realized that there were yet more than three of the dead men among them.
He again sprang into a dead run, headed toward the sound. He wondered how many attackers had made it up into the cave. If there were many more, they could wipe out half the village before Richard could find and destroy them all.
As he made his way down narrow passages, he had to squeeze past men, women, and children frantically trying to escape the threat. Some of them cried as they ran, some of them screamed, but they were all panic-stricken, not knowing what to do except run from the danger.
At an intersection of several halls, Richard followed the chilling roars into a broader corridor. He recognized it as the passageway to Ester’s small home. The monster was near. He was getting close. As he panted from the run, he drew in the putrid stench of death. It was like a reminder of the touch of death from the Hedge Maid that lurked within him.
In the distance he saw a flash of movement as a dark shape disappeared around a corner. As Richard ran he stopped suddenly at a doorway with a sheepskin covering. He ducked inside and in the candlelight saw Kahlan on the lambskin rug where he had left her. Ester was there, a knife in her fist as she stood protectively over Kahlan. Richard knew that she had no chance of stopping one of the walking dead, yet she was prepared to try.
Sammie was gone.
Richard let the covering drop back over the doorway as he started out again in pursuit of the threat. He raced toward the screams of startled people apparently awakened in the middle of the night by the attack. He had to shove some of the sleepy people aside when they stood dumbly in the dark passageway.
Out ahead, he saw a blur of movement again as a small figure darted across an intersection only to vanish down a side hall. A dark shape roared as it chased after her. A second shape entered the tunnel, following behind the first and Sammie.
It paused momentarily and turned to look in Richard’s direction. Back in that dark tunnel, Richard couldn’t make out much of the walking corpse, but he could see the piercing reddish glow of its eyes. It was like it was glaring out from the darkness of not only the tunnel, but death itself. And then it was gone, vanishing into the shadows of a side passageway, chasing after Sammie.
Richard ran after them, racing as fast as he could. He ran so fast that the men following behind him couldn’t keep up. As Richard chased after the threat, and put distance on the men behind, he was losing the help of the light from their lanterns. He kept running despite how hard it was to see. Occasionally a room to one side or the other was lit with candles so that their faint light spilled out into the hallway, giving him enough of a glimpse of the tunnel to keep from having to slow.
In the dark, he came upon the second of the two men running after his companion and Sammie. It was hard to see, but he could see well enough to tell that this man, too, was a walking dead man. Even without a good look, the smell alone was unmistakable.
As the man stopped and turned back to see who was behind him, Richard was already there, swinging his sword down with all his might. The ceiling wasn’t very high, so he couldn’t put as much power into a full swing as he would have liked. Still, it was a blade powered by more than mere muscle, the same as these men were powered by more than life.
As the man opened his mouth to bellow a threat at Richard, the sword came down with all Richard’s force and strength behind it. The blade cleaved the man from the top of his head down to the center of his chest. Parts of the head and neck fragmented off the corpse.
Richard didn’t wait to see if it was enough. He hacked furiously at the man, screaming in rage the entire time, cutting the threat to bits. As the men with the lanterns caught up from behind, Richard could finally see that the threat from this particular intruder was no more than rubble in the hallway.
With that one threat ended, Richard looked up. In the distance, faint candlelight came from a room to the right. Richard saw the silhouetted shape of the other man headed for that light. In that light, Richard could see that the hallway was a dead end beyond the room. Sammie was trapped down there. She had nowhere left to run, no way to escape.
Richard charged down the passageway, knowing that he was in a race to kill the man before he could kill Sammie. He yelled as he ran, trying to distract the killer. The man paid no attention to Richard. His attention was on his prey.
The hulking corpse stood just outside the doorway, looking in. Richard wasn’t close enough. The dark shape glanced Richard’s way with glowing eyes, then turned back to the room. He roared with menace as he stormed into the room.
Richard ran with all his strength. The dark shape disappeared into the room at the dead end of the hall. Richard wasn’t close enough. He wasn’t going to make it in time. He knew that Sammie didn’t stand a chance.
Just as he was about to reach the doorway, the big, dark shadow of the man flew backward out of the room and crashed into the wall on the opposite side of the tunnel. Dust billowed up from the impact.
The man was clearly stunned but he recovered quickly. As he regained his footing, Sammie appeared in the doorway.
Richard was almost there, but he wasn’t yet close enough. Sammie and her attacker were too far away for Richard to help her.
The man again let out a thunderous roar of rage as he rushed the girl. Sammie lifted both arms out straight, with her palms up, as if she actually thought she could stop the charge of the big man.
To Richard’s surprise, the man flew backward again, again slamming into the wall.
This time, as he came off the wall, flying toward the girl, she shrieked when she tried a third time to stop him and it didn’t work.
But this time Richard was there. With one mighty blow, the sword cleaved away the monster’s head and one shoulder. A second strike came like lightning, severing the other arm as it tried to strike at Richard. With quick swings, Richard hacked the body down to the waist, and then chopped the legs down at mid-thigh.
The head, with the neck, a shoulder, and one arm still attached, lay on the ground, looking up with menacing, glowing red eyes. The hand reached out and snatched Richard’s ankle. Richard brought the sword down a half-dozen times in quick succession, hacking the arm and head apart. He crushed the hand with his boot after smashing the head to bits.
Richard stood panting, sword in his fist, feeling the rage of it storm through him, drawing yet more of his own rage forth. He cocked his head, listening, but he didn’t hear any other screams or roars. It seemed that this was the last one.
Sammie stared up at him.
“Are you all right?” he asked her.
She nodded as she let out a deep sigh of relief.
He pulled her to him and with his sword arm, embraced her around her small shoulders, thankful that he had been in time. She had managed to buy a few precious seconds until he could get to her and end the threat for good.
“You’re sure you are all right?” he asked again. “You’re sure that he didn’t hurt you?”
She held some of her dusty, frizzy black hair back out of the way as she looked down, taking a good look at the remains.
“No, I’m fine,” she assured him. She sounded remarkably calm.
“Then do you mind telling me what you were doing?” Richard gritted his teeth as his fist tightened around the hilt of his sword. He leaned down toward her. “I told you to protect the Mother Confessor. When I left, I clearly told you to stay there and watch over her.”
“I was watching over her.”
“Until you ran. I trusted you to protect her, and instead you ran. I can’t fault you for being afraid, but I was counting on you and you didn’t stay there and protect her.”
Sammie shook her head. “I was protecting her—”
“They came back in the caves after her. You ran.”
Sammie folded her spindly arms and glared up at him. “They weren’t after the Mother Confessor. They were after me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do.” She was still glaring from under a lowered brow. “That’s why I ran—to protect her by drawing the attackers away from her. That was the best way to keep her safe.”
Richard straightened. “What are you talking about?”
“Is she hurt? No. Are there monsters back there ripping her to pieces? No. Why do you suppose that is?”
When Richard didn’t answer, she leaned toward him. “They aren’t back there killing her because they were after me. When they came into the room they didn’t even look at her. They were both looking at me with those glowing red eyes. As they came toward me I moved to the side of the room to see what they would do. Their gazes stayed locked on me. Do you know what they did then?”
“They came after you instead of her,” Richard guessed in a considerably quieter voice.
“That’s right. They didn’t even seem to see her. They were focused only on me. They came after me. I tried every bit of magic I knew to stop them. I admit that I don’t know a lot about such things or have much experience, but I tried everything I know. Nothing worked.
“Then I remembered what Henrik said about what your friends did, so I threw a fist of air like they had done. It didn’t harm those two the way it should have, but it did knock them back just long enough for me to get to the door. When I did that, they left the Mother Confessor and came after me. Once I saw that they really were after me and not her, I ran to get them to chase after me so I could lead them away from her. They weren’t interested in the Mother Confessor. They both came after me.”
She tapped her chest. “Me, not her. Me. So yes, I ran, but I ran to protect her the only way I could—by getting those monsters to chase me so I could lead them away from her.
“I was afraid. Even though I was afraid, I knew that I had to think of something. I wondered if I could somehow trap them in a dead-end tunnel. Then, when I got down here, I had the idea to get them into that room and slip past them like I had before, and then I would collapse the hallway in to bury them down here in this room.”
In the light from the lanterns carried by the men waiting back a ways up the passageway, Richard looked around. It was indeed a dead end, with only the one room at the end. If he hadn’t gotten there in time her plan might have worked. Of course, it might not have. She very easily could have been slaughtered.
Yet, of all the people in the small village, she was the only one who had thought of something to stop the threat. She was the only one with a plan and she acted on it.
Richard ran his fingers back through his hair as he let out a sigh. “Sammie, I’m sorry. You’re right. You did a very brave thing. Thank you for doing what you did to protect Kahlan.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” she said as she showed him a small smile. “I can see in your eyes that you are in the grip of the magic of the sword. I can also see that its anger is all that’s keeping you on your feet. I need to heal you. It can’t wait any longer.”
As he nodded, he realized that his wounds had opened back up in all the fighting. The blood running down his arms dripped off his fingers. Now that the urgent demand of fighting off the attack was over, he was feeling increasingly light-headed and the pain was again pressing in on him.
“Listen, Sammie, there are a lot of your people back there who are hurt. Some are hurt pretty badly. They need your help. Please, tend to them first.”
He was frantic to have help for Kahlan, but he knew that helping some of the others was more urgent. Without help, many would die. He thought he could wait.
Sammie’s gaze swept over the remains on the floor outside the room where she had intended to trap her pursuers. She didn’t merely look worried for her people who were injured; Richard thought that she looked somehow older than she had earlier.
She started back out of the dead-end tunnel. “We’d better hurry, then,” she said back over her shoulder.
“Right,” Richard said as he sheathed his sword.
When the blade slid home, the anger from it extinguished. His own rage went out with it.
In that instant, the entire weight of the ordeal and the staggering pain of all his wounds set in with a vengeance. The sword had been all that had been holding it back.
He couldn’t feel his fingers.
It felt like the tunnel was collapsing in on him and the suffocating weight of it was crushing him.
He managed to take one step, and as he did the world tilted as the floor began rushing toward him. Everything seemed strangely distant, as if he were looking through a long, dark tube at the world off in the distance. The concerned shouts he heard somewhere around him sounded eerily muffled.
Before the floor reached him, the blackness closed in and shut the world away.
CHAPTER (#ulink_83f50cdd-1744-55e5-b801-78128e702b8f)
18 (#ulink_83f50cdd-1744-55e5-b801-78128e702b8f)
When Richard woke, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. He was lying on a woven straw mat in a windowless room softly lit by candles clustered along recessed shelves that had been meticulously carved into walls of the same stone as the rest of the cave village of Stroyza. The surface of the walls themselves had been flattened and finely smoothed, mimicking the look of plaster. From what he had seen of the rest of the excavated cave system, these were luxurious quarters.
Kahlan lay on another mat close beside him. She was still unconscious and didn’t respond when he touched her shoulder. To his relief, he saw that she was breathing more evenly and easily than she had been before.
He was surprised to see that her clothes were no longer soaked with blood. Not only were her clothes clean, the rips, tears, and cuts in them had been carefully sewn up so that it almost looked like the shirt had an embroidered design on it. Most importantly, though, she was no longer covered with cuts and hundreds of puncture wounds. From what he could see, it appeared that they had all been healed.
He was relieved by that much of it, if not by the fact that she was still unconscious.
He looked down, then, and saw that his own clothes were just as clean as Kahlan’s. Checking his arm confirmed his suspicion that the horrific bite wound had been healed. Running his fingers over the spot revealed only a slight swelling where the wound had been. A great deal of the pain, too, was gone, though he could still feel a lingering ache in the muscle. He was able to sense a hint of a tingling sensation that he recognized as the residual effect of having been healed.
Even though his outward wounds seemed to all have been healed, he could still feel the awful, dark weight of a grim, inner sickness that was the touch of death left there by the Hedge Maid. That merciless weight was always there, trying to pull him down into its darkness. He knew that the same call of death itself still lay within Kahlan as well.
Richard sat up, looking around. The place was bigger than Ester’s place, where they had been at first. The carpets were thicker, better made, and the colors in them were a little brighter than others he had seen. There were a few chairs and a table that, while not fancy, were well made. The door was wooden rather than a simple hanging. By the way the walls looked square and true, as well as the way they had been smoothed, he suspected that it was the home of someone important.
When she saw him sit up, realizing that he was awake, Ester rose from a bench to the side. “Don’t try to stand, yet, Lord Rahl. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Richard blinked up at her in confusion. “What’s going on? Where are we?”
“We’re in the home of our sorceress.” She pressed her lips tight with grief. “Well, it used to be her home, before …” She reconsidered and then swept a hand around. “Actually, I guess it still is the home of a sorceress. Sammie still lives here, and she is the only sorceress we have left. It was her parents’ home, but now I suppose it’s her home.”
Richard looked around. “Where is she?”
Ester gestured to a door to the back of the room. A few simple designs carved around the outside of the door were a luxury in a village that existed in such a harsh place.
Carved in the center of the door, though, was a Grace, the design that represented Creation, life, and out beyond the bounds of the world of life the eternity of the underworld. Radiating out through the world of life and the underworld beyond were lines representing the gift.
Such a design would not be a luxury, especially not in the home of a sorceress. A Grace was often used as a serious tool of the gifted, and often served as a symbolic reminder to the gifted of their duty, their purpose, their calling. It was never drawn or used merely for the purpose of decoration.
“Sammie is resting. Poor girl, she was exhausted.”
“Exhausted? Then she helped the injured people? She healed all the people who had been hurt?”
“Yes, yes, she worked hard healing people,” Ester said as she waved off his concern, seeming eager to change the subject. “Then she said that she needed to heal you both, as best she could, anyway. I told her that she needed to rest before she took up such a demanding task, but she insisted that it couldn’t wait any longer. She said that she had to do what she could for you and the Mother Confessor right away or you both would slip beyond what help she would be able to give.”
Richard glanced over at Kahlan. He had known that she was in grave trouble. He also knew that Sammie couldn’t heal everything that was wrong with her. That healing would take someone with more ability and experience than Sammie, and it would take a containment field. He was thankful, though, for what Sammie had been able to do to help Kahlan.
He knew that he needed to find Zedd and Nicci, and then they had to get back to the People’s Palace before it was too late if death’s touch was to be removed from both him and Kahlan.
What he didn’t know was how much longer they could survive with that poison inside them. Kahlan, especially, was in urgent need of such help. She wouldn’t be able to survive in this unconscious state for long. Without food and water her condition would only worsen.
Richard was about to ask Ester about the people who had been hurt, and if there had been any more trouble, when the door to the rear of the room swung open. Sammie stood in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes, before peering out into the candlelit room.
“Lord Rahl—you’re awake.” Her initial surprise quickly turned to relief.
Richard nodded. “I am, but Kahlan still isn’t.”
Sammie briefly glanced Kahlan’s way. “I know.”
Before he could say anything else, Sammie bowed her head to Ester. “Thanks for watching over them for me, Ester. I’m awake now. You can go get some rest. You look like you need it.”
Ester yawned. “You sure? You’ve only been asleep for a few hours. After all the long and difficult work you’ve done, don’t you think you need to get some more rest?”
Sammie smoothed back her disheveled black hair. “You’ve been working hard to help people, too, and you, too, have been up for two nights, now. At least I got a little sleep. Lord Rahl is still going to need to rest so his body can finish healing. I can watch over them as they rest. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”
Ester let out a heavy sigh. “All right. I admit that I could use it, but I want to go check on some of the others, first.” Ester flashed a quick smile at Richard. “I’ll be off, then.” She lifted a cloth bag from beside the bench. “Come get me, Sammie, if you need my help for anything.”
Sammie nodded as she saw the woman to the door.
Richard held his knot of questions for the time being as Ester bid him a quick farewell and left. Once the door closed, Sammie promptly returned to put two fingers on his forehead, testing with her gift.
“Well?” he asked after a moment of silence in which she showed no sign of what she might be detecting.
Sammie took her hand back, rubbing her fingers as if she had touched something wholly unpleasant. “Hard to tell for sure, Lord Rahl, but the healing that I was able to do, such as it was, seems to be holding.”
Richard knew that she meant that it was hard to tell much of anything with death’s touch still in him. “You were afraid to heal us before,” he said. He thought it a little strange that she had gotten past her fear of healing them both without him having to do any more convincing.
“Henrik’s story about how the wizard you know—”
“My grandfather, Zedd.”
Sammie nodded. “Yes, him and the sorceress. Once I knew that they were healing you even though they saw the same thing in you both that I saw, I knew that I could at least try to do the same.”
Richard was still suspicious. “You weren’t afraid?”
Sammie’s little nose scrunched up. “Yes, but I knew that it had to be done, so I tried not to think about how afraid I was and just concentrate on what I needed to do.”
“What about Kahlan. Why isn’t she awake like I am, if her injuries are healed?”
Sammie cast a brief, worried glance at Kahlan. “I’m sorry, Lord Rahl, but I did everything I could. The presence of death seems to be stronger in her. That’s something I can’t heal and it was harder to get around it in her in order to work on what I could heal. Death is casting a darker shadow over her than you.”
Richard nodded as he heaved a worried sigh. Even Zedd and Nicci had said that they couldn’t remove that dark force within her without being back at the palace. Considering the difficulty, Sammie had done well to be able to do as much as she had done.
“Thank you for doing what you did for her.” He hoped it would be enough to keep Kahlan alive until he could find Zedd and Nicci, and then get them all back to the palace.
“Keep in mind that I’m not an expert in such things, Lord Rahl, but I think that with her injuries healed as best as I could do, and her not losing any more blood, it may just take some more rest for the healing to complete enough for her to wake. You’ve been asleep a long time. I’m hoping that she, too, will wake up once she has had some more rest. She was hurt worse than you, so she may just need some more sleep before she wakes.”
Richard wanted to believe that was true, but he didn’t know if it was just wishful thinking. “What about the others? All the people who were hurt. Did you heal them first?”
Sammie was a long moment in answering. “Some of them.”
Richard looked up. “Why didn’t you heal them all, all the ones who could be healed, anyway?”
“Because had I not stopped so that I could heal you, you would have died. The Mother Confessor is in more serious trouble because that awful shadow of death is a lot stronger in her, but you were in more immediate danger from your injuries and loss of blood. You were in danger of dying from the things that I could heal. I had to make a choice.”
Richard’s heart sank. “You mean, you had to let some of your people die to instead save me?”
Sammie swallowed. “Yes.”
Richard’s brow drew tight with concern. “Those were your people, Sammie. Why would you abandon them to heal us? To heal strangers?”
Sammie sat on the chair close beside him. She put some of her weight on her hands beside her small hips and rocked a little at the thought of how to answer his question.
“I’m only one person,” she said in a quiet tone. “I worked on those I could save, worked as fast as I could, did what I could. Some people were going to die no matter what. I knew that if I spent the night trying to save some of those, they would still die in the end and then others that I might have saved would also die.
“There were many people needing healing. There wasn’t enough time to heal all of them, even if I would not have healed you. I was never going to be able to save them all.
“This is the second night since the attack. You slept that night of the attack, all day yesterday, and most of last night. It will be dawn soon. That first night, after you had ended the threat and the battle was over, you passed out.
“I had you brought here while I stayed out there and healed a number of people. More needed healing. Some people died as they waited, died while I healed others that I thought had a better chance. Some had wounds that are beyond my skill. I knew I had to leave them. Ester and others comforted them as best they could.
“Throughout the night, between healing people, I checked on you and the Mother Confessor to make sure that you both hadn’t gotten any worse and that you could wait a little longer for me. There were so many who were hurt. Some not badly, so I left them to people like Ester to help with what they could do. I worked on those in more need for as long as I could. But then it could wait no longer.
“I had to choose who I was going to help, you and the Mother Confessor, or some of the others still waiting. I knew that if I helped you, then some of those I couldn’t get to would die. But I also knew that if I didn’t do what I could for you and the Mother Confessor, you both would die that night.
“I had to decide. I decided to heal you while I still could.”
Richard ran a hand back over his face, distressed to hear that she had been faced with such a choice, that saving his and Kahlan’s life had cost others theirs.
“I never had to make a decision like that before,” she said. “My mother never talked to me about how to make such a choice. Such a thing never came up. I don’t know—maybe she wouldn’t have known what to do, either. There was no one else who could tell me what to do. All I knew was that I had to figure it out on my own.”
Richard had made such gut-wrenching decisions before. They left scars that never entirely healed.
“I decided that I had to heal you while I still could,” she finally said. “You saved a lot of people that night. I know that, in reality, you saved us all. Most of the people here would have been killed that night—we all could have been killed—if not for you being here. You are the one. You need to live. By helping you, I am helping many more people here to live than just those I could have healed.”
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Terry Goodkind
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Зарубежное фэнтези
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: From the internationally bestselling author of the Sword of Truth series, comes a new Richard and Kahlan novel, sequel to The Omen Machine.The bloodthirsty Jit is dead, and against all odds Richard and Kahlan have survived. But a new menace has attacked them in the Dark Lands. Infected with the essence of death itself, robbed of his power as a war wizard, Richard must race against time to uncover and stop the infernal conspiracy assembling itself behind the wall far to the north. His friends and allies are already captives of this fell combination, and Kahlan, also touched by death′s power, will die completely ifRichard fails.Bereft of magic, Richard has only his sword, his wits, his capacity for insight – and an extraordinary companion, the young Samantha, a healer just coming into her powers.Compelling, fast-moving, and intense, The Third Kingdom is a powerful tale that welcomes new readers to Terry Goodkind′s world, while opening up new vistas of worldbuilding for longtime readers of the adventures of Richard Rahl and Kahlan Amnell.