Blood of the Fold

Chapter 29

“Please?” Cathryn whispered.

Richard stared into her soft brown eyes as he gently touched the side of her radiant face, brushing a black ringlet back from her cheek. When they looked into each other’s eyes, it was near to impossible for him to look away unless she did so first. He was having that difficulty now. Her hand on his waist sent warm sensations of longing coursing through him. He struggled desperately to put an image of Kahlan in his mind in order to resist the compulsion to take Cathryn in his arms and say yes. His body burned to do so.

“I’m tired,” he lied. Sleep was the last thing he wanted. “It’s been a long day. Tomorrow we’ll be together again.”

“But I want—”

He touched her lips to silence her. He knew that if he heard those words from her again, it would be one time too many. The implied offer of her lips as they sucked the end of his finger with a wet kiss was nearly as impossible to resist as the overt invitation of her words. In the fog of his mind, he could hardly form coherent thoughts.

He managed to form one: Dear spirits, help me. Give me strength. My heart belongs to Kahlan.

“Tomorrow,” he managed.

“You said that yesterday, and it took me hours to find you,” she whispered as she kissed his ear.

Richard had been using the mriswith cape to make himself invisible. It was just a little easier to resist when she couldn’t appeal to him directly, but it only delayed the inevitable. When he saw her frantic to find him, he couldn’t bear to see her in distress as she searched for him, and would end up going to her.

As her hand came up to his neck, he took it and administered it a quick kiss. “Sleep well, Cathryn. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Richard glanced to Egan standing ten feet away, with his back to the wall and his arms folded as he stared ahead, as if he saw nothing. Beyond, in the shadows at the end of the gloomy hall, Berdine stood guard, too. She make no pretense at not seeing him standing at the door with Cathryn pressed up against him. She observed without expression. His other guards, Ulic, Cara, and Raina were getting some sleep.

Richard slipped a hand behind his back and turned the doorknob. His weight against the door caused it to spring open, and as it did he stepped aside and Cathryn stumbled into her room. She caught herself by his hand. Looking into his eyes, she kissed his hand. His knees nearly buckled.

Knowing he could resist her no longer if he didn’t remove himself from the sight of her, he look back his hand. He was mentally making excuses to himself as to why it would be all right to give in. What could it hurt? Why was it so bad? Why did he think it would be so wrong?

It felt like there was a thick blanket over his thoughts, suffocating them before they could get to the surface.

Voices in his head tried to rationalize why he should stop this foolish resistance and simply enjoy the charms of this gorgeous creature who was making it more than stone cold obvious that she wanted him, who in fact was begging him. He felt a lump in his throat at his desire for her. He was near tears from struggling to find reasons to stop himself.

His thinking churned in a mental stupor. Part of him, the largest part, desperately struggled to make him abandon his resistance, but a small, dim part of his mind fought fiercely, trying to hold him back, trying to warn him that something was wrong. It made no sense. What could be wrong? Why was it wrong? What was it in him that was trying to stop him?

Dear spirits, help me.

An image of Kahlan came to him, and he saw her smile that smile she gave no other but him. He saw her lips moving. She said she loved him.

“I need to be alone with you, Richard,” Cathryn said. “I can’t wait any longer.”

“Good night, Cathryn. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.” He pulled the door closed.

Panting with exhaustion at the effort, he closed the door to his room after he entered. His shirt was soaked with sweat. With a weak arm, he reached up and shoved the bolt to the door into place. It broke as he drove it home. He stared at the bracket as it swung, hanging by one screw. In the dim light coming from the fire in the hearth, he couldn’t see the other screws on the ornate carpets.

He was so hot he could hardly breathe. Richard pulled the baldric over his head and dropped his sword to the floor on his way to the window. With the effort of a drowning man, he twisted the latch and threw the window open, gasping as if he couldn’t get his breath. Cold air filled his lungs, but did little to cool him.

His room was on the ground floor, and he briefly contemplated stepping over the sill and rolling in the snow. He decided against it, and settled on letting the cold air waft over him as he stared out into the night, at the moonlit, secluded garden.

Something was wrong, but he couldn’t make himself grasp it. He wanted to be with Cathryn, but something inside was fighting it. Why? He couldn’t understand why he would want to fight his desire for her.

He thought again about Kahlan. That was why.

But if he loved Kahlan, why would he be having such an intense desire for Cathryn? He could think of little but her. He was having trouble keeping the memory of Kahlan in his head. Richard shuffled to the bed. He instinctively knew that he had reached the end of his ability to resist his lust for Cathryn. He sat on the edge of the bed, in a daze as he head spun.

The door opened. Richard looked up. It was her. She was wearing something so sheer that the dim light in the hall silhouetted her body underneath. She crossed the room toward him.

“Richard, please,” she said in that soft voice that paralyzed him. “Don’t send me away this time. Please. I will die if I can’t be with you right now.”

Die? Dear spirits, he didn’t want her to die. Richard nearly burst into tears at the very thought.

She glided closer, into the firelight. The softly pleated nightdress reached the floor, but did nothing to hide what was beneath it, merely softening her body into a vision of beauty beyond anything he could have imagined. The sight ignited him. He could think of nothing but what he was seeing, and how much he wanted her. If he didn’t have her, he would die of unrealized desire.

As she stood over him, with one hand behind her back, she smiled as she stroked his face with the other. He could feel the heat of her flesh. She bent and brushed her lips against his. He thought he would die of pleasure. Her hand went to his chest.

“Lie down, my love,” Cathryn whispered as she pushed him back.

He flopped back on the bed, staring up at her through the numb agony of desire.

Richard thought of Kahlan. He was powerless. Richard dimly remembered some of the things Nathan had told him about using his gift: it was within him, and anger could bring it out. But he felt no anger. Instinct was how a war wizard used his gift, Nathan had told him. He remembered abandoning himself to that instinct when he was about to die at the hands of Liliana, a Sister of the Dark. He had given sanction to the inner power. He had let his instinctive use of need bring the power to life.

Cathryn put a knee on the bed. “At long last, my love.”

In helpless abandon, Richard gave himself over to that calm center, the instinct beyond the veil within his mind. He let himself fall into that dark void. He relinquished control of his actions to what would be. He was lost either way.

Clarity ignited, scorching the fog away in seething ripples.

He looked up to see a woman for whom he had no feelings. With cold lucidity, he understood. Richard had been touched by magic before; he knew its feel. The shroud had been shattered. There was magic about this woman. With the fog gone, he could feel its cold fingers in his mind. But why?

Then he saw the knife.

The blade glinted in the firelight as she lifted it over her head. With a wild rush of strength, he flung himself to the floor as Cathryn buried the knife in the bedding. She drew it back again as she dove toward him.

It was too late for her now. He cocked his legs to kick her back, but in a confusion of sensations and realizations, Richard felt the presence of a mriswith, and at nearly the same time, he saw it materialize as it dove through the air above him.

And then the world went red. He felt warm blood splatter his face as he saw the filmy nightdress slashed open; severed edges of diaphanous material fluttered as if in a blast of wind. The three blades ripped Cathryn nearly in two. The mriswith crashed to the floor beyond.

Richard spun out from underneath her and sprang to his feet as she toppled back, the shocking gore ot her insides sloshing across the carpet. Her terrible gasps died out in heaving pants.

Richard crouched, his feet and his hands spread, facing the mriswith on the other side of her. The mriswith had a three-bladed knife in each claw. Between them Cathryn writhed in the agony of death.

The mriswith took a step back toward the window, its beady eyes staying on Richard. It took another step, drawing its black cape over one scaled arm as its gaze swept the room.

Richard dove for his sword. He slid to a stop as the mriswith planted a clawed foot atop the scabbard, holding it to the floor.

“No,” it hissed. “She was going to killssss you.”

“The same as you!”

“No. I protectssss you, skin brother.”

Dumbfounded, Richard stared up at the dark shape. The mriswith flung the cape around itself and dove through the window into the night, vanishing as it leapt. Richard lunged toward the window to grab it. His arms caught only air as he landed across the windowsill, hanging halfway out into the night. The mriswith was gone. He could no longer feel its presence in his mind.

In the emptiness left by the departure of the mriswith, Richard’s mind filled with the mental image of Cathryn squirming in a mass of her guts. He vomited out the window.

When his racking heaves finished, and his head stopped spinning, he staggered back to where she lay to kneel beside her. He thanked the spirits that she was dead, and no longer suffered. Even if she had tried to kill him, he couldn’t stand to watch her suffering in the throes of death.

He stared at her face. He couldn’t imagine the feelings he had had for her that he now only dimly remembered. She was just an ordinary woman. But she had been shrouded in magic. It was some son of spell that had overpowered his reason. He had come to his senses with no time to spare. His gift had broken the spell.

The top half of her slashed nightdress was thrown up around her neck. A cold feeling that gave him goose bumps turned his attention to her breasts. Richard’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer, staring. He reached out and touched her right nipple. He touched the left. It wasn’t the same.

He carried a lamp to the fire and lit it with a long splinter of kindling. He returned to the body and held the lamp near her left breast. Richard wet his thumb on his tongue and rubbed the smooth nipple. It came off. With her nightdress, he cleaned the paint from her breast, to leave a smooth, unbroken mound of skin. Cathryn had no left nipple.

The calm center within radiated an aura of comprehension. This was connected to the spell she had over him. He didn’t know how, but it was.

Richard suddenly sat back on his heels. He sal a moment, wide-eyed, and then sprang up, running to the door. He stopped. Why should he be thinking this? He had to be wrong.

What if he wasn’t?

He opened the door just enough to slip through and then shut it behind himself. Egan glanced his way, his arms still folded, and resumed his stance. Richard peered down the hall, to Berdine, in her red leather, leaning against the wall. She was watching him.

Richard crooked his finger, gesturing her to come to him. She straightened and then strolled up the hall. Berdine glanced to the door as she stopped before him. She frowned up to his eyes.

“The duchess wishes to be with you. Go back to her.”

“Go get Cara and Raina, and the three of you get back here.” His voice took on the heat of his glower. “Right now.”

“Is something—”

“Right now!”

She looked to the door again and then strode off without further word. When she had disappeared around the hall at the end of the corridor, Richard turned to Egan, who was again watching him.

“Why did you let her come into my room?”

Egan’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. He lifted a hand toward the door. “Well . . . the way she is . . . dressed. She said you wanted her tonight, and that you told her to put that on and come to you.” Egan cleared his throat. “It was obvious why you wanted her. I thought you would be angry if I kept her from you after you had told her to come to you in the night.”

Richard turned the knob and flung open the door. He held his arm out in invitation. Egan hesitated and then entered.

He stiffened as he stood over her remains. “Lord Rahl, I’m sorry. I saw no mriswith. I would have stopped it if I had, or at least have tried to warn you—I swear.” He groaned. “Dear spirits, what a way to die. Lord Rahl—I’ve failed you.”

“Look in her hand, Egan.”

He glanced along the length of her arm, to see the knife still clutched in her fist. “What the . . . ?”

“I didn’t ask her to come to me. She came to my room to kill me.”

Egan’s eyes turned away. He clearly knew the implications. Any past Lord Rahl would execute a guard for such a failure.

“She fooled me too, Egan. It’s not your fault. But don’t you ever let a woman, other than my future wife, into my room again. Understand? If a woman comes to my room, you get my permission to let her in, no matter what.”

He clapped a fist to his heart. “Yes, Lord Rahl.”

“Egan, please roll her up in that carpet and get her out of here. Put her in her room for now. Take up your post in the hall, and when the three Mord-Sith return, send them in.”

Without questioning the instructions, Egan bent to the task. With his strength and size, it was only a minor effort.

After he had inspected the broken door bolt, Richard pulled out a chair from the table and turned it around, next to the fireplace, and sat facing the door. He hoped he was wrong. What was he going to do if he wasn’t? He sat in the quiet, listening to the tire crackle, and waited for the three women.

“Come,” he called out in response to the knock.

Cara entered, followed by Raina, both in their brown leather, with Berdine bringing up the rear. The first two glanced about casually as they crossed the room.

Berdine swept the room with a more focused search. The three came to a halt before him.

“Yes, Lord Rahl?” Cara asked without emotion. “You wish something?”

Richard folded his arms. “Show me your breasts. All three of you.”

Cara’s mouth opened to say something, but she closed it and, setting her jaw, started undoing the buttons running up the side of her ribs. Raina glanced to Cara and saw that she was doing as ordered. Reluctantly at first, she started undoing the buttons, too. Berdine watched the other two. Slowly, she started slipping the buttons at the side of her red leather outfit.

When finished, Cara gripped the top of the leather at the side, but didn’t open it. Smoldering resentment settled in her expression. Richard rearranged the unsheathed sword in his lap and crossed his legs.

“I’m waiting,” he said.

Cara took a final breath of resignation and pulled the front of her outfit opened. In the flickering light coming from the recently stoked fire in the hearth, Richard studied each nipple and the wavering shadow cast by each raised knob in the center. Both had the proper contour of flesh, and not the fiat profile of paint put there to mimic.

He shifted his gaze to Raina in silent command. He said nothing as he waited. He could see her fighting to keep silent, and at the same time fighting to decide what to do. She pressed her lips tight in indignation, but finally reached up and yanked the leather aside. Richard gave her breasts the same careful appraisal. Her nipples, too, were both real.

His gaze slid to Berdine. She was the one who had threatened him. She was the one who had lifted her Agiel to him.

It wasn’t humiliation, but rage that had her face as red a her outfit “You said we didn’t have to do this! You promised us! You said you would not—”

“Show me.”

Cara and Raina shifted their weight uncomfortably, not liking this one bit, as if they expected he was choosing one of them for the night, but at the same time neither was willing to do anything to go against the wishes of the Lord Rahl. Still, Berdine didn’t move.

He hardened his glare. “That’s an order. You are sworn to obey me. Do as I say.”

Tears of anger leaked from her eyes. She reached up and tore the leather aside.

She had only one nipple. Her left breast was smooth and unbroken. Her chest heaved with ire.

The other two stared at her smooth left breast in open astonishment. By the looks on their faces, Richard knew they had seen her breasts before. When their Agiel suddenly spun into their fists, he knew that this wasn’t what they had expected to see this time.

Richard came to his feet, addressing Cara and Raina. “Forgive me for doing that to you.” He gestured for all of them to cover themselves. Berdine stood shaking in rage, not moving, as the other two began to button their leather up the side.

“What’s going on?” Cara asked him, her dangerous eyes on Berdine the whole time she worked at the tight buttons.

“I’ll tell you later. You two may leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Raina said in a grave tone as her eyes, too stayed on Berdine.

“Yes you are.” Richard pointed toward the door. He lifted a finger to Berdine. “You stay right there.”

Cara stepped protectively closer to him. “We’re not—”

“Don’t argue with me, I’m not in the mood! Out!”

Cara and Raina flinched back in surprise. With a final furious sigh, Cara motioned to Raina and left the room, closing the door behind them.

Berdine’s Agiel spun up into her fist. “What did you do with her?”

“Who did this to you, Berdine?” he said in a gentle voice.

She stepped closer. “What did you do with her!”

Richard, his mind now clear, could feel the spell around her as she put herself close to him. He could feel the distinctive tingle of magic, its uncomfortable, prickling sensation in his gut. This was not benevolent magic.

In her eyes, he could see more than magic; he could see the fury of a Mord-Sith unleashed.

“She died trying to kill me.”

“I knew I should have done it myself.” She shook her head in disgust. “Kneel,” she commanded through gritted teeth.

“Berdine, I’m not—”

She lashed out with her Agiel, striking him across the shoulder, knocking him back. “Don’t you dare address me by my name!”

She had been faster than he had expected. He gasped with the pain as he clutched his shoulder. Every memory of an Agiel being used against him came stunningly fresh to his mind.

He was abruptly flushed with doubt. He didn’t know if he could do this. But his only alternative was to kill her, and he had sworn he wouldn’t do that. The bone-burning torture searing through his shoulder made his resolve falter.

Berdine stalked closer. “Pick up your sword.”

He stiffened his will as he regained his feet. Berdine laid the Agiel on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. He struggled to maintain his focus. Denna had taught him to endure this. He must now. He picked up the sword and staggered to his feet again.

“Try to use it on me,” she commanded.

Richard looked to her cold blue eyes, fighting the tug of panic within his soul. “No.” He tossed the sword on the bed. “I am the Lord Rahl. You are bonded to me.”

She screamed in fury as she drove the Agiel into his gut. The room spun as he realized he was on his back. Breathless, he again struggled to his feet when she commanded it.

“Use your knife! Fight me!”

With shaking fingers, Richard pulled his knife from the sheath at his belt and held it hilt first to her. “No. Kill me, if that’s what you really want.”

She snatched the knife from his hand. “You make this easy for me. I intended to make you suffer, but your death is all that is required.”

Richard, his insides in an agony of lingering, burning pain, used all his strength to put his chest out. He pointed. “Here is my heart, Berdine. The Lord Rahl’s heart. The Lord Rahl you are bonded to.” He tapped his chest again. “Stab me here if you wish to kill me.”

She gave him a gruesome smile. “Fine. You shall have your wish.”

“No, not my wish—yours. I don’t want you to kill me.”

She faltered. Her brow twitched. “Protect yourself.”

“No, Berdine. If this is what you wish, then you must choose it for yourself.”

“Fight me!” She struck him across the face with the Agiel.

It felt like his jaw shattered and all his teeth were knocked out. The pain stabbed into his ear, nearly blinding him with hurt. Panting, in a cold sweat, he straightened.

“Berdine, you have two magics in you. One is your bond to me, the other is what was put there when they took your nipple. You cannot continue to carry both. One has to be broken. I’m your Lord Rahl. You are bonded to me. The only way you can kill me is to break that bond. My life is in your hands.”

She lunged at him. He felt the back of his head smack against the floor. Berdine was atop him, screaming in fury.

“Fight me, you bastard!” She pounded his chest with one fist as she held the knife up in the other. Tears streamed from her eyes. “Fight me! Fight me! Fight me!”

“No. If you want to kill me, then you have to do it on your own.”

“Fight me!” She struck his face. “I can’t kill you if you don’t fight me! Defend yourself!”

Richard enfolded her in his arms and pulled her to his chest. He pushed his heels against the carpet and slid himself back, taking her with him as he sat up against the bed.

“Berdine, just as you are bonded to me, I protect you. I won’t let you die like this. I want you alive. I want you as my protector.”

“No!” she screamed. “I must kill you! You must fight me so I can! I can’t do it unless you try to kill me! You must!”

Weeping in angry exasperation, she pressed the knife against his throat. Richard did nothing to stop her.

He drew his hand down her wavy brown hair. “Berdine, I’ve sworn to fight to protect those who want to live free. That’s my bond to you. I won’t do anything to harm you. I know you don’t want to kill me; you’ve sworn on your life to protect me.”

“I’ll kill you! I will! I’ll kill you!”

“I believe in you, Berdine, in your oath to me. I put my life in your word and your bond.”

She gasped in racking sobs as she looked into his eyes. She shook as she wept uncontrollably. Richard didn’t move against the sharp blade at his throat.

“Then you must kill me,” she cried. “Please . . . I can stand it no longer. Please . . . kill me.”

“I will never do anything to harm you, Berdine. I’ve given you your freedom. You are answerable to yourself.”

Berdine let out a long wait of misery and then threw the knife across the floor. She collapsed against him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Oh, Lord Rahl,” she sobbed, “forgive me. Forgive me. Oh, dear spirits, what have I done.”

“You have proven your bond,” he whispered as he held her.

“They hurt me,” she wept, “they hurt me so much. Nothing ever hurt like that before. It hurts so to fight it now.”

He held her tight. “I know, but you must fight it.”

She put a hand to his chest and pushed back. “I can’t.” Richard didn’t think he had ever seen anyone in such misery. “Please, Lord Rahl—kill me. I can’t stand the pain. I beg you, please, kill me.”

Richard, in an agony of empathy for her suffering, drew her back to his chest and hugged her, stroking her head, trying to comfort her. It did no good; she only cried harder.

He set her back against the bed as she shook and wept. Without thinking about what he was doing, or even understanding the reason, he cupped his hand over her left breast.

Richard sought the calm center, the place without thought, the fount of peace within, and cloaked himself in instinct. He felt the searing pain seep through him. Her pain. He felt what had been done to her, and what the lingering magic was doing to her now. As he had done with the pain of the Agiel, he endured it.

In his empathy, he felt the torment of her life, the torture of what it meant to become a Mord-Sith, and the anguish of her former self lost. His eyes closed, he took it unto himself. Though he didn’t see the events involved, he understood the trail of scars they left through her soul. He hardened his will in order to endure the suffering of it. He stood, a rock, in a torrent of hurt rushing into his own soul.

He was that rock for her. He let his loving regard for this innocent, this fellow victim of suffering, flow into her. Without fully understanding the feelings he was having, he let his instinct guide him. He felt himself soaking up her suffering so that she wouldn’t have to endure it, so he could help her, and at the same time he felt an inner warmth flowing outward through his hand on her flesh. Through that hand it seemed he was connected to her spark of life, to her soul.

Berdine’s crying slowed, her breathing evened out, and her muscles went slack as she sank back against the bed.

Richard felt the pain that had come into him from her begin to dissipate. Only then did he realize he was holding his breath with the agony of it, and let the breath go.

The warmth flowing from within him began to fade, too, and at last was gone. Richard removed his hand, and brushed her wavy hair back from her face. Her eyes came open, her dazed, blue-eyed gaze meeting his.

They both looked down. She was whole again.

“I’m myself again,” she whispered. “I feel as if I have just awakened from a nightmare.”

Richard pulled the red leather up across her breasts, covering her. “Me too.”

“There has never been a Lord Rahl such as you before,” she said in wonder. “The spirits be praised, there never has.”

“Greater truth has never been spoken,” a voice behind said.

Richard turned to see the tearstained faces of the other two women kneeling behind him.

“Are you all right, Berdine?” Cara asked.

Berdine, still looking a bit stunned, nodded. “I am myself again.”

None of them was as stunned as Richard.

“You could have killed her,” Cara said. “If you had tried to use your sword she would have had your magic, but you could have used your knife. For you, it would have been easy. You didn’t have to suffer her Agiel. You could have just killed her.”

Richard nodded. “I know. But that pain would have been worse.”

Berdine tossed her Agiel to the floor before him. “I give this over to you, Lord Rahl.”

The other two pulled the gold chains down over their hands and dropped their Agiel to the floor along with Berdine’s.

“I, too, give mine over to you, Lord Rahl,” Cara said.

“And I, Lord Rahl.”

Richard stared at the red rods on the floor before him. He thought about his sword, and how much he hated the things he did with it, how he hated the killing he had done with it, and the killing he knew he would do again. But he could not yet give up the sword.

“This means more to me than you can know,” he said, unable to meet their eyes. “That you would do this is what matters. It proves your hearts and your bond. Forgive me, all of you, but I must ask you to keep them for now.” He handed back their Agiel. “When this is over, when we are free of the threat, then we can all give up the phantoms that haunt us, but for now we must fight for those who count on us. Our weapons, terrible as they are, allow us to continue the struggle.”

Cara laid a gentle hand to his shoulder. “We understand, Lord Rahl. It shall be as you say. When this is over, we can be free of not only those enemies from without, but within, too.”

Richard nodded. “Until then, we must be strong. We must be the wind of death.”

In the silence, Richard wondered what mriswith were doing in Aydindril. He thought about the one that had killed Cathryn. It was protecting him, it had said. Protecting him? Impossible.

As he thought about it, though, he couldn’t recall a mriswith actually attacking him, personally. He remembered the first attack, outside the Confessors’ Palace, with Gratch. Gratch had attacked them, and Richard had come to the aid of his friend. They had been intent of killing “green eyes,” as they had called the gar, but they never specifically attacked him.

The one tonight had had the best chance of all—Richard had been without his sword—yet it didn’t attack him, and instead escaped without a fight. It had addressed him as “skin brother.” Just to wonder what that could mean gave him goose bumps.

Richard idly scratched his neck.

Cara rubbed a finger on the back side of his neck where he had just scratched. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know. Just a spot that’s always itching.”