Chainfire: Chainfire Trilogy Part 1

Chapter 13

It was late afternoon by the time Victor, Nicci, Cara, and Richard passed through the long shadows among the olive groves covering the southern hills outside of Altur’Rang. Richard had never eased the pace and they were all tired from the arduous, if relatively short, journey. The chill rain had moved on, pushed away by the oppressive weight of heat and humidity. With as much as they were all sweating, it might as well have still been raining.

Even though he was bone-weary, Richard felt better than he had only a couple of days before. Despite the exertion, his strength was gradually returning.

He was also relieved that they had seen no sign of the beast. Several times he had let the others go on while he checked their backtrail to see if they were being followed. He had never seen any sign of anyone or anything following behind them and so he was starting to breathe a little easier. He also had to consider the possibility that Nicci’s information about Jagang creating such a monster was not the explanation for what had killed Victor’s men. Even if, as Nicci said, Jagang had succeeded in creating such a beast, that didn’t mean that it was the explanation for the violent and deadly attack or even that this beast had yet begun to hunt Richard. But if that wasn’t it, then he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it could have been.

Carts, wagons, and people moved at a brisk pace along the crowded roads around the city. Commerce seemed to be flourishing even more than the last time Richard had been in Altur’Rang. Some of the people recognized Victor, and some Nicci. Since the revolt, both of them had played important roles in Altur’Rang. A good number of the people recognized Richard, either because they had been there the night the revolution for their liberty had begun, or because they recognized his sword. It was a unique weapon and the polished silver and gold scabbard was hard to miss, especially in the Old World under the drab rule of the Order.

People smiled at the four of them as they passed, or lipped a hat, or gave them a friendly nod. Cara eyed every passing smile with suspicion.

Richard would have been pleased to see the emerging vitality in Altur’Rang had his mind not been on things far more important to him. And to deal with those important matters, he needed horses. Since it was so late in the day, it would be dark before he could hope to have horses and supplies collected and ready for a journey. He was reluctantly reconciled to spending the night in Altur’Rang.

Many of the people on the bustling country lanes and roads around the city seemed to be traveling to and from nearby towns, or possibly even places much farther. Whereas people once came to the city in the desperate hope of finding work at building the emperor’s palace, they now arrived filled with optimism that they would be able to find a new life, a free life.

Every one of the people traveling away from the city, besides carrying foods for trade, also carried word of the profound changes since the revolt. They were an army carrying the bright shining weapon of an idea. In Altur’Rang they no longer had to mold their lives around their fear of the order; they could now shape their lives to their own needs and aspirations made possible by personal liberty and their own enterprise. They owed their lives to no one. Swords could enforce tyranny, but only if it relentlessly crushed such ideas.

Ultimately, only brutality could enforce the irrationality and dead end of self-sacrifice.

That was why the Order would have to send its most savage troops to crush the very idea of liberty. If they didn’t, then liberty would spread and people would prosper. If that came to be, then liberty would triumph.

Richard noticed that new market stands seemed to have sprung up at junctions of what had once been little more than rutted paths and lanes but were now active byways. The stands sold goods of every sort, from a variety of vegetables to stacks of firewood to rows of jewelry. Merchants at the outskirts of the city eagerly offered travelers a variety of cheeses, sausages, and breads. Closer to the city, people milled about, scrutinizing bolts of cloth or inspecting the quality of an array of leather goods.

Richard remembered how when Nicci had first brought him to Altur’Rang they’d had to stand in lines all day for a loaf of bread and often the store would run out before they ever got anywhere near the front of the line. So that everyone could afford bread, bakeries had been strictly regulated and prices had been fixed by a whole variety of committees, boards, and layers of ordinances. No consideration was given to the cost of ingredients or labor, only to what was judged to be the price people could afford to pay. The price of bread had seemed cheap, but there was never enough bread, nor any other foodstuff. Richard considered it a perversion of logic to call something unavailable inexpensive. Laws that the hungry be fed had only resulted in widespread hunger haunting the streets and dark homes of the city. The true cost of the altruistic ideas that spawned such laws was starvation and death. Those who championed the lofty notions of the Order were indignantly blind to the endless misery and death they caused.

Now, at stands on almost every corner, bread was plentiful and starvation looked to have receded into nothing more than a horrific memory. It was amazing to see how freedom had made everything so plentiful. It was amazing to see so many people in Altur’Rang smiling.

The revolt had been opposed by a good number of people who supported the Imperial Order, who wanted things to continue the way they were. There were many who believed that people were wicked and deserved no more out of their lives than misery. Such people believed that happiness and accomplishment were sinful, that individuals, on their own, could not make their own lives better without causing harm to others. Such people scorned the very idea of individual liberty.

For the most part, those people had been defeated—either killed in the fighting or driven away. Those who had fought for and won their liberty had fierce reasons to value it. Richard hoped that they would have the will to hang on to what they had won.

As they passed into the older sections of the city, he noticed that many of the dingy brick buildings had been cleaned so that they almost looked new. Shutters were painted bright colors that actually looked cheerful in the hazy, late-afternoon sun. A number of the buildings that had been burned down in the revolt were already being rebuilt. Richard thought it a wonder, after the way it used to be, that Altur’Rang could look cheerful. It gave him a flutter of excitement to see a place so alive.

He knew, too, that it was the simple, sincere happiness of people pursuing their own interests and living their lives for the sake of themselves that would draw the hate and wrath of some. The followers of the Order believed that mankind was inherently evil. Such people would stop at nothing to suffocate the blasphemy of happiness.

As they turned onto a broader street that led deeper into the city, Victor came to a stop at a corner of major thoroughfares.

“I need to go see Ferran’s family and the families of some of the other men. If it’s all right with you, Richard, I think I should speak with them alone, for now at least. The grief of sudden loss and important visitors are a confusing mix.”

Richard felt awkward being viewed as an important visitor, especially by people who had just lost loved ones, but in the midst of such bad news it was not the time for him to try to soften that view.

“I understand, Victor.”

“But I was hoping that maybe later you could say some words to them. It would be a comfort if you told them how brave their men had been. Your words would honor their loved ones.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“There are others who will need to know that I’ve returned. They will be eager to see you.”

Richard gestured to Cara and Nicci. “I want to show them something”—he pointed toward the center of the city—“down this way.”

“You mean Liberty Square?”

Richard nodded.

“Then I will meet you there as soon as I can manage it.”

Richard briefly watched as Victor vanished down a narrow cobbled street to the right.

“What do you want to show us?” Cara asked.

“Something that I’m hoping may help jog your memory.”

The first sight of the majestic statue carved from the finest white Cavatura marble, glowing in the amber light of the late-day sun, nearly buckled Richard’s knees.

He knew every intimate curve of the figure, every fold of the flowing robes. He knew because he had carved the original.

“Richard?” Nicci said as she clasped his arm. “Are you all right?”

He could manage hardly more than a whisper as he stared at the statue off across the green sweep of lawns. “I’m fine.”

The vast open expanse had been the site of thee construction of the former palace that was to be the seat of rule for the Imperial Order. It had been where Nicci has brought Richard to toil for the greater glory of the cause of the Order in the hope that he would learn the importance of self sacrifice and the corrupt nature of mankind. Instead, in the process, she had learned the value of life.

But while he’d still been Nicci’s captive, he had worked for months in the construction of the emperor’s palace. That palace was gone, now, erased from the face of the ground. Only a semicircle of columns from the main entrance remained to stand watch around the proud statue in while marble that marked the place where the flame of freedom had first ignited in the heart of darkness.

After the revolt against the rule of the Order, the statue had been carved and dedicated to the free people of Altur’Rang and the memory of those who had given their lives for that freedom. This place, where people had first spilled blood to gain their liberty, was now hallowed ground. Victor had named the place Liberty Square.

Lit by the warm light of the low sun, the statue shone like a beacon.

“What do you two see?” Richard asked.

Cara, too, had a hand on his arm. “Lord Rahl, it’s the same statue we saw the last time we were here.”

Nicci nodded her agreement. “The statue that the carvers created after the revolt.”

The sight of the statue made Richard ache. The feminity of its exquisite shape, the curves, the bone and muscle, were clearly evident beneath the flowing robes of stone. The woman in marble almost looked alive.

“And where did the carvers get the model for this statue?” Richard asked the two women.

Both gave him a blank look.

With a hooked finger, Nicci pulled back a strand of hair that the humid breeze had lifted across her face. “What do you mean?”

“To carve such a statue, expert carvers typically scale it up from a model. What do you recall about that model?”

“Yes,” Cara said as her face brightened in recollection, “it was something you carved.”

“That’s right,” he said to Cara. “You and I searched together for the wood for the small statue. You were the one who found the walnut tree I used. It had been growing on a slope just above a broad valley. The tree had been knocked over by a windblown spruce. You were there when I cut the wood from that fallen, weathered walnut tree. You were there when I curved that small statue. We sat together on the banks of the stream and talked the hours away as I worked on it.”

“Yes, I remember you carving while we sat in the countryside.” A hint of a smile ghosted across Cara’s face. “What of it?”

“We were at the home I built in the mountains. Why were we there?”

Cara looked up at him, puzzled by the question, as if it seemed too obvious to warrant the effort of retelling. “After the people of Anderith voted to side with the Imperial Order, rather than with you and D’Hara, we gave up on trying to lead people against the Order. You said that you couldn’t force people to want to be free, but that they must choose it for themselves before you could lead them.”

It was difficult for Richard to calmly tell things to a woman who should know them as well as he did, but he knew that reproach wouldn’t help to spark her memory. Besides, whatever was going on, he knew it wasn’t a willfull deception on the part of Nicci and Cara.

“That was part of it,” he said. “But there was a much more important reason why we were there in those trackless mountains.”

“A more important reason?”

“Kahlan had been beaten nearly to death. I took her there so that she would be safe while she recovered. You and I spent months caring for her, trying to nurse her back to health.

“But she wasn’t getting better. She sank into a deep despondency. She had despaired of ever recovering, of ever being whole again.”

He couldn’t bring himself to say that part of the reason Kahlan had nearly given up was because when those men had beaten her nearly to death, it had caused her to lose her child.

“And so you carved this statue of her?” Cara asked.

“Not exactly.”

He stared off at the proud figure in white stone rising up against the deep blue sky. He had not intended the little statue he’d carved to look like Kahlan. Through this figure, her robes flowing as she faced into a wind, as she stood with her head thrown back, her chest out, her hands fisted at her silk’s, her back arched and strong as if in opposition to an invisible power trying to subdue her, Richard had conveyed not what Kahlan looked like, but rather a sense of her inner nature.

This was not a statue of Kahlan, but of her living force, her soul. The magnificent statue before them was her spirit encased in stone.

“It’s Kahlan’s courage, her heart, her valor, her determination. That’s why I named this statue Spirit.

“When she saw it, she understood what she was seeing. It made her hunger to be well again, to be strong and independent again. It made her want to be fully alive again. That was when she started to get well.”

Both women looked more than simply dubious, but they didn’t dispute his story.

“The thing is,” Richard said as he started out across the broad stretch of grass, “if you were to ask the men who carved this statue where that small statue is, that statue I carved and which they used as a model to scale up this one, they would not be able to find it or tell you what happened to it.”

Nicci hurried to keep up with him. “So where is it, then?”

“That little statue I carved for her out of walnut wood that summer in the mountains meant a great deal to Kahlan. She was eager to have it back after the men were finished using it. Kahlan has it.”

Nicci let out a sigh as she returned her gaze to where she was walking. “Of course she does.”

He frowned over at the sorceress. “And what does that mean?”

“Richard, when a person is suffering delirium, their mind works to come up with things to fill in the blank places, to knit together the tattered fabric of that delirium. It’s a way for them to try to make sense out of their confusion.”

“Then where is the statue?” he asked both women.

Cara shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened to it. There is this big one now, in marble. That’s the one that seems important.”

“I don’t know, either, Richard,” Nicci said when he looked her way. “Maybe if the carvers look around they will be able to come up with it.”

It seemed like she was missing the purpose of his story and that they only thought that he was interested in finding his carving.

“No, they won’t be able to come up with it. That’s the whole point. That’s what I’m trying to make you understand. Kahlan has it. I remember her pleasure the day she got it back. Don’t you see? No one will be able to find it or remember what happened to it. Don’t you see how things don’t fit? Don’t you see that something strange is going on? Don’t you see that something is wrong?”

They paused at the base of the broad expanse of steps.

“The truth? Not really.” Nicci gestured up at the statue standing before the semicircle of pillars. “After this statue was finally finished and the model was no longer needed it was probably lost or destroyed. As Cara said, we now have the statue here in stone.”

“But don’t you see the importance of the small carving? Don’t you see the importance of what I’m telling you? I remember what happened to it, and no one else will. I’m tying to prove a point—to show you something, to show you that I’m not dreaming up Kahlan, to show you that things just don’t add up and you need to believe me.”

Nicci slipped a thumb under the strap of her pack in an effort to ease the ache caused by the burden of its weight.

“Richard, your subconscious mind in all likelihood recalls what happened to the carving—that it was lost or destroyed after this statue was finished—and so it uses that small detail to try to patch in one of the holes in the insubstantial story you dreamed up in your delirium. It’s just your inner mind trying to make things seem like it all makes sense for you.”

So that was it. It wasn’t that they didn’t get his point, it was that they got it all too well and simply didn’t believe it. Richard took a deep breath. He still hoped to be able to convince them that they were the ones who were mistaken, who weren’t taking everything into account.

“But why would I invent such a story?”

“Richard,” Nicci said as she gently gripped his arm, “please, let’s just drop it. I’ve said enough. I’m only making you angry.”

“I asked you a question. What possible reason would I have for creating such a story?”

Nicci cast a sidelong glance at Cara before finally giving in. “If you want to know the truth, Richard, I think you recalled this statue here—partly because it was only recently carved after the revolt and it was fresh in your memory—and when you were hurt, when you were at the brink of death, because this was fresh in your mind you wove it into your dream. It became part of this woman you dreamed up—part of the story. You linked it all together and used it to help create something meaningful for yourself, something you could hang on to. Your mind used this statue because it serves to connect your dream to something in the real world. In that way, it serves to help make your dream more real for you.”

“What?” Richard was stunned. “Why would . . .”

“Because,” Nicci said, lists at her sides, “It makes it look as if you can point to something solid in the real world and say ‘this is her.’ ”

Richard blinked, unable to speak.

Nicci glanced away. Her voice lost its heat and dropped to a near whisper. “Forgive me, Richard.”

He withdrew his glare from her. How could he forgive her for what she sincerely believed? How could he forgive himself for not being able to make her understand?

Fearing to test his voice just then, he started up the expanse of steps. He couldn’t look into her eyes, couldn’t look into the eyes of someone who thought he was mad. He was hardly aware of the effort of climbing the hill of steps.

At the top, as he crossed the expansive marble platform he could hear Nicci and Cara rushing up the steps after him. For the first time, he noticed that there seemed to be quite a few people on the grounds of the former palace. From the height of the platform he could see the river that cut through the city. Flocks of birds wheeled above the swirling water. Beyond the towering columns behind the statue, green hills and trees wavered in the heat.

The proud figure of Spirit rose up before him, glorious in the golden late-day sunlight. He laid a hand against the cool, smooth stone for support. He could hardly endure the pain of what he felt at that moment.

When Cara came close he looked up into her blue eyes. “Is that what you believe, too? That I’m just inventing in my head that Kahlan was hurt and you and I cared for her? This statue doesn’t spark any memory? It doesn’t help you recall anything?”

Cara gazed up at the mute statue. “Now that you brought it up, Lord Rahl, I remember when I found the tree. I remember you smiling at me when I showed it to you. I remember that you were pleased with me. I also remember some of the stories you told me when you carved, and I remember you listening to some of my stories. But you carved a lot of things that summer.”

“That summer before Nicci came and took me away,” he added.

“Yes.”

“And if I’m only dreaming, and Kahlan doesn’t exist, then how did Nicci manage to capture me and take me away if you were there to protect me?”

Cara paused, taken abuck by the culling tone of the question. “She used magic.”

“Magic. Mord-Sith are the counter to magic, remember? That’s their whole reason for their existence—to protect the Lord Rahl from those with magic who would do him harm. The day Nicci showed up she intended to do me harm. You were there. Why didn’t you stop her?”

Terror crept incrementally into Cara’s blue eyes. “Because I failed you. I should have stopped her, but I failed. A day does not go by that I don’t wish you would punish me for failing in my duty to protect you.” Her face stood out crimson against her blond hair as her sudden confession burst forth. “Because I failed you, you were captured by Nicci and taken away for nearly a year—all because of me. If it had been your father I failed in such a fashion he would have executed me, but only after making me beg for death until I was hoarse. And he would have been right to do so; I deserve no less. I failed you.”

Richard stared in shock. “Cara—it wasn’t your fault. That’s the whole point of my question. You should remember that you could have done nothing to stop Nicci.”

Cara’s hands fisted. “I should have, but I didn’t. I failed you.”

“Cara, that’s not true. Nicci used a spell on Kahlan. Had either of us done anything to stop her, Nicci would have killed Kahlan.”

“What!” Nicci objected. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“You captured Kahlan with a spell. That spell connected you to Kahlan and was directly controlled by your intent. If I hadn’t gone with you, you could have killed Kahlan at any time with no more than a thought. That, for the most part, was why Cara and I could do nothing.”

Nicci planted her hands on her hips. “And just what kind of a spell do you think could accomplish such a thing?”

“A maternity spell.”

Nicci regarded him with a blank look. “A what?”

“A maternity spell. It created a connection that made anything that happened to you happen to her. If Cara or I had harmed or killed you, the same fate would have befallen Kahlan. We were helpless. I had to do what you wanted. I had to go with you or Kahlan would have died. I had to do as you wished or you could have taken her life through the link of that spell. I had to make sure nothing happened to you or the same fate would befall Kahlan.”

Nicci shook her head with incredulity and then, without comment, turned to stare off at the hills beyond the statue.

“It wasn’t your fault, Cara.” He lifted her chin to make her wet eyes look up at him. “Neither of us could have done anything. You didn’t fail me.”

“Don’t you think that I would like to believe you? Don’t you think that I would, if it were true?”

“If you don’t remember what I’m telling you really happened,” Richard said, “then just how do you think Nicci managed to capture me?”

“She used magic.”

“What kind of magic?”

“I don’t know what kind of magic it was—I’m no expert on how magic works. She just used magic, that’s all.”

He turned to Nicci. “What magic? How did you capture me? What spell did you use? Why didn’t I stop you? Why didn’t Cara stop you?”

“Richard, that was—what, a year and a half ago? I don’t remember exactly what spell I used that day to capture you. It wasn’t all that hard. You don’t have the ability to control your gift or mount a defense against someone experienced with it. I could have tied you up in knots of magic and had you over the back of a horse without working up a sweat.”

“And why didn’t Cara try to stop you?”

“Because,” Nicci said, gesturing in exasperation at having to try to recall the irksome details, “I had you hobbled under my ability and she knew that if she made a move I would have killed you first. It’s no more complicated than that.”

“That’s right,” Cara said. “Nicci spelled you, just as she says. I couldn’t do anything because it was you she attacked. If she would have used her power against me I could have turned her gift against her, but she used it instead on you, so I could do nothing.”

With a finger, Richard wiped sweat from his brow. “You’re trained to kill with your bare hands. If nothing else why wouldn’t you have hit her over the head with a rock?”

“I would have hurt you,” Nicci said, answering for Cara, “or possibly even killed you, had she even looked like she was going to try anything.”

“And then Cara would have had you,” Richard reminded the sorceress.

“Back then I was willing to forfeit my life—I just didn’t care. You know that.”

Richard did indeed know that that much of it was true. At the time.

Nicci did not value life, not even her own. That had made her dangerous in the extreme.

“My mistake was in not attacking Nicci before she could get to you,” Cara said. “If I had made her strike out at me with magic, I would have get her. That is what a Mord-Sith is supposed to do. But I failed you.”

“You couldn’t,” Nicci said. “I surprised you both. You didn’t fail, Cara. Sometimes there simply isn’t any chance to succeed. Sometimes there is no solution. For the two of you, that was one of those situations. I was in control.”

It was hopeless. Every time he backed them into a corner they seemed in he able to effortlessly slither out.

Richard laid a hand against the smooth marble as his mind raced, trying in think of how this could be happening—what could be causing them to forget. He reasoned that maybe he could remedy the problem if he only knew what was causing it.

And then, something about that story he had told them in the shelter a couple of nights back suddenly sprang to mind.