Chainfire: Chainfire Trilogy Part 1

Chapter 4

With two fingers, Nicci pushed a wet balsam bough out of her way as she followed several of the men through the dense woods. At the edge of a thickly forested ridge they headed down a trail that switched back and forth in order to negotiate the steep descent. Slippery rocks made the climb down treacherous. It was a shorter route than the one they had used to carry Richard back to the deserted farmhouse after he’d been hurt. At the bottom they picked their way over exposed fractured rock and boulders, skirting the fringe of a boggy area guarded by a towering cluster of silvered skeletons of cedars standing vigil in the stagnant water.

Runnels pouring down mossy banks carved deep cuts through the forest loam to expose speckled granite beneath. Several days of steady rain had left standing ponds in a number of low places. For the most part the rain filled the woods with the pleasing fragrance of damp soil, but in low places and crannies the damp, decomposing vegetation smelled of rot.

Even though she was warm from the short, arduous trek, the damp, cool air still left Nicci’s fingers and ears numb with cold. She knew that this far south in the Old World the heat and humidity would soon return with such vengeance that it would make her long for the unusual spell of cool weather.

Having grown up in a city, Nicci had spent little time outdoors. At the Palace of the Prophets, where she had lived most of her life, outdoors meant the manicured lawns and gardens of the grounds covering Halsband Island. The countryside had always seemed vaguely hostile to her, an obstacle between one city and another, something to be avoided. Cities and buildings were a refuge from the inscrutable dangers of the wilderness.

More than that, though, cities had been where she toiled for the betterment of mankind. That work had had no end. Forests and fields had not been any of her concern.

Nicci had never appreciated the beauty of hills, trees, streams, lakes, and mountains until she had come to know Richard. Even cities were new to her eyes after Richard. Richard made all of life a wonder.

Carefully making her way up the slippery, dark rock of a brief rise, she finally spotted the rest of the men quietly waiting under the outstretched limbs of an ancient maple. Farther away, Richard crouched, studying a patch of ground. He finally rose to stare off into the dark expanse of woods beyond. Cara, his ever-present shadow, waited near him. Under the dense vault of soothing green, the Mord-Sith’s red leather outfit stood out like a clot of blood on a tablecloth at tea.

Nicci understood Cara’s fierce and passionate protection of Richard. Cara, too, had once been his enemy. Richard had not simply gained Cara’s blind allegiance by virtue of becoming the Lord Rahl; he had, far more importantly, earned her respect, trust, and loyalty. Her red leather outfit was intimidating by design, a promise of violence should anyone even think of causing him harm. It was not an empty promise. Mord-Sith had been trained since they were young to be absolutely ruthless. While their primary purpose had been to capture the gifted and use their power against them, they were perfectly capable of using their ability against any opposition. Men who knew and trusted Cara, without realizing they were doing it, kept more distance from her when she wore her red leather.

Nicci knew how it felt for Cara to be brought back from the numb madness of mindless duty, to come to again value life.

Off in the distance, through the gloom and shadows and dripping leaves, the hoarse croak of ravens echoed through the forest. Nicci caught the sickening stench of rotting carrion. Looking around for landmarks as Richard had taught her, she spotted, at the base of a rocky outcropping, a pine that she remembered because it had a secondary trunk that curved out low to the ground almost like a seat. She recognized the spot; beyond the screen of vines and brush lay the scene of the battle.

Before Nicci could get to Richard, he ducked under low-hanging branches and started into the underbrush. Rising up on the far side, he waved his arms over his head and yelled like a lunatic. The deep shade among towering spruce erupted with the flapping of wings as, all at once, hundreds of the huge black birds bounded into the air, shrieking with indignation at having their feast interrupted. At first it looked as if the birds might contest the field of battle, but when the air sang with the unique sound of Richard’s sword being drawn, they fled into the darkness back among the trees almost as if they knew what a weapon was and feared this one in particular. Their deep, angry croaking receded into the hazy mist. Richard, the triumphant scarecrow, glowered after them for a time before sliding his sword back into its scabbard.

He finally turned to the men. “All of you, please stay out of this area for now.” His voice echoed off through the tall pines. “Just wait back there.”

Considering herself sovereign in matters of Richard’s safety, Cara paid no heed to his request. Instead, she followed him as he made his way into the small clearing beyond, staying close but out of his way. Nicci wove her way among the saplings and wet ferns, moving past silent men, until she reached a thin patch of white birch topping a hillock that edged one side of the clearing. Hundreds of black eyes set in the white bark watched as she made her way among them to finally halt at the brow of the bank. When she rested her hand on the peeling papery bark of one, she noticed the bolt from a crossbow stuck in the tree. Arrows jutted from other trees as well.

Beyond, dead soldiers lay sprawled everywhere. The stench staggered her. The ravens had been driven off, but the flies, fearing no sword, remained to feast and breed. The first hatch of blowfly maggots were already hard at work.

A good number of men were headless or were missing limbs. Some lay partly submerged in the stagnant pools of water. The ravens, along with other animals, had been at many of them, taking advantage of the opportunity afforded by gaping wounds. The thick leather armor, heavy hides, studded belts, chain mail, and wicked assortment of weapons no longer did these men any good. Here and there the clothes around bloated bodies strained to remain buttoned, as if trying to maintain dignity where there could be none.

Everything—from the men’s flesh and bone to their fanatical beliefs—would lie here and rot in this forgotten patch of forest.

Waiting in the trees, Nicci watched as Richard briefly inspected the corpses. That first morning he’d already killed a great many of the soldiers before Victor and his men arrived and charged in to help him. She didn’t know how long Richard had been fighting with that arrow in his chest, but it wasn’t the kind of injury that anyone could endure for long.

Huddled back under the partial shelter of the huge maple, the nearly two dozen men pulled cloaks tight against the chill and settled in to wait.

Everywhere in the hushed forest, boughs of pine and spruce hung heavy and wet, quietly dripping water to the sodden ground. Here and there the drooping branches of maple, oak, and elm lifted whenever a breath of breeze relieved them of their heavy load of water, making it appear as if the trees were gently waving. The humid air dampened what the drizzle didn’t reach, making everyone miserable.

Beyond the standing water, Richard crouched again, studying the ground. Nicci couldn’t imagine what he was looking for.

None of the men waiting back under the tree appeared at all interested in revisiting the site of the pitched battle or seeing the dead. They were content to wait back where they were. Killing was unnatural and difficult for these men. They fought for what was right and they did what they had to do, but they didn’t relish it. That in itself spoke to their values. They had buried three of their own dead, but they had not buried the bodies of close to a hundred soldiers who would have eagerly killed them had Richard not intervened.

Nicci remembered her surprise, the morning of the battle, coming upon Richard among all the dead and not at first understanding what had felled so many of them. Then she’d seen Richard slipping among those brutes, his sword moving with the fluid grace of a dance. It had been spellbinding to watch. With every thrust or slice, a man died. There had been a thick swarm of the soldiers—many bewildered by seeing so many of their fellows crashing to the ground. Most had been burly young men who always dominated because of their muscle—the type who enjoyed intimidating people. The soldiers moved in jerks and fits, chopping and lurching at Richard, but they always seemed to strike just after he had already gone. His flowing movement didn’t fit the blundering attack they were looking for. They began to fear that the spirits themselves had set upon them. In a way, perhaps they had.

Still, their numbers were too great for one man, even if that one man was Richard and he wielded the Sword of Truth. Just one of those ignorant, lumbering, brawny men connecting with a lucky swing of his axe would be all it took. Or one arrow finding its mark. Richard was neither invincible nor immortal.

Victor and the rest of his men had arrived just in time—a few moments before Nicci, too, made it to the scene. Victor’s men had flown into the fray, drawing the attention away from Richard. Once Nicci arrived, she had ended it in a blinding flash as she unleashed her power against the soldiers still standing.

Fearful of being exposed not only to the impending storm but, far more troubling, to potentially untold numbers of enemy soldiers who could appear on the scene at any moment, Nicci had instructed the men to carry Richard back through the woods to the secluded farmhouse. The most she had been able to do for him on that terrible race to cover had been to trickle a thread of her Han into him, hoping it would help keep him alive until she was able to do more. Nicci swallowed back the anguish of the ghastly memory.

From a distance, she watched as Richard continued his meticulous inspection of the scene of the battle, ignoring the fallen soldiers, for the most part, and paying particular attention to the surrounding area. She couldn’t imagine what he hoped to discover. As he searched, he had begun moving in a back-and-forth pattern, progressing steadily outward from the small clearing, circling the scene in ever-widening arcs. At times he inched along the ground on all fours.

By late in the morning Richard had vanished into the woods.

Victor finally tired of the silent vigil and marched through a bed of ferns nodding under the gentle fall of rain to where Nicci waited.

“What’s going on?” he asked her in a low voice.

“He’s looking for something.”

“I can see that. I mean what’s going on with this business about a wife?”

Nicci let out a tired sigh. “I don’t know.”

“But you have an idea.”

Nicci spotted Richard, briefly, moving among the trees some distance away. “He was seriously wounded. People in that state sometimes suffer delirium.”

“But he’s healed, now. He doesn’t look or act feverish. He sounds normal enough in everything else, not like a person suffering visions and such. I’ve never seen Richard behave like this.”

“Nor have I,” Nicci admitted. She knew that Victor would never voice to her such concerns about Richard unless he was deeply worried. “I would suggest we try to be as understanding as possible of what he’s gone through and see if he doesn’t soon start to get his thoughts sorted out. He was unconscious for days. He’s only been awake for a few hours. Let’s give him some time to clear his head.”

Victor considered her words before finally sighing and giving his nod of agreement. She was relieved that he didn’t ask what they would do if Richard didn’t soon get over his delirium.

She saw Richard, then, returning through the shadows and drizzle. Nicci and Victor crossed the field of battle to meet him. On the surface his face seemed to show only stony intensity, but, as well as she knew him, Nicci could read in his expression that something was seriously wrong.

Richard brushed leaves, moss, and twigs from the knees of his trousers as he finally reached them. “Victor, these soldiers weren’t coming to take back Altur’Rang.”

Victor’s eyebrows went up. “They weren’t?”

“No. They would need thousands of men for such a task—maybe tens of thousands. This many soldiers certainly weren’t going to accomplish any such thing. And besides, if that was their intent, then what would be the point to slogging through the bush this far away from Altur’Rang?”

Victor made a sour face in admission that it had to be that Richard was right. “Then what do you think they were doing?”

“It wasn’t yet dawn when they were out here moving through the woods. That suggests to me that they might have been reconnoitering.” Richard gestured off through the woods. “There’s a road in that direction. We’d been using it to travel up from the south. I had thought we would be camped far enough off it for the night to avoid trouble. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“We last heard that you were to the south,” Victor said. “The road makes for quicker traveling, so we were using the trails to cut cross-country so we could catch the road and take it south.”

“It’s an important road,” Nicci added. “It’s one of the main arteries—one of the first—that Jagang built. It allowed him to move soldiers swiftly. The roads he built enabled him to subdue all of the Old World under the rule of the Imperial Order.”

Richard gazed off in the direction of the road, almost as if he could see through the wall of trees and vines. “Such a well-made road also allows him to move supplies. I think that’s what was happening here. Being this close to Altur’Rang, and being well aware of the revolt that had taken place there, they were probably concerned about the possibility of an attack as they passed through the area. Since these soldiers weren’t massing for an attack on Altur’Rang, I’d guess they had something more important going on: watching over supplies moving north for Jagang’s army. He needs to crush the last of the resistance in the New World before the revolution at home burns his tail.”

Richard’s gaze returned to Victor. “I think these soldiers were reconnoitering—clearing the countryside in advance of a supply convoy. They were most likely scouting in the predawn in the hopes of catching any insurgents asleep.”

“As we were.” Victor folded his muscular arms in obvious discontent. “We never expected there would be any soldiers out here in these woods. We were sleeping like babies. If you hadn’t been here and intercepted them, they would have soon snuck up on us where we slept. Then we’d likely be the ones feeding the flies and ravens, instead of them.”

Everyone fell silent as they considered the might-have-been.

“Have you been hearing any news of supplies moving north?” Richard asked.

“Sure,” Victor said. “There’s a lot of talk about large quantities of goods going north. Some convoys are accompanied by new troops being sent to the war. What you say about these men scouting for such a convoy makes sense.”

Richard squatted down and pointed. “See these tracks? These are a little more recent than the battle. It was a large contingent—most likely more soldiers who came looking for these dead men. This was as far as they came. These side ridges in the prints show where they turned around, here. It looks like they came in, spotted the dead soldiers, and left. You can see by their tracks as they left that they were in a hurry.”

Richard stood and rested his left hand on the pommel of his sword. “Had you not taken me away right after the battle, these soldiers would have been on us. Fortunately they went back rather than search the woods.”

“Why do you suppose that they would do that?” Victor asked. “Why would they see these men freshly killed and then leave?”

“They probably feared that a large force was lying in wait, so they rushed back to raise an alarm and insure that the supply column was well protected. Since they didn’t even take the time to bury their fellow soldiers, I’d guess that their most urgent concern was getting their convoy out of the area.”

Victor scowled at the tracks and then back in the direction of the dead soldiers. “Well,” he said as he ran his hand back over his head, wiping away beads of water, “at least we can take advantage of the situation. While Jagang is preoccupied with the war that gives us time down here to work to knock support for the Order’s rule right out from under them.”

Richard shook his head. “Jagang may be preoccupied with the war, but that won’t stop him from moving to restore his authority back here. If there’s one thing we’ve learned about the dream walker, it’s that he’s methodical about annihilating any and all opposition.”

“Richard is right,” Nicci said. “It’s a dangerous error to dismiss Jagang as a mere brute. While he is indeed brutal, he is also a highly intelligent individual and a brilliant tactician. He’s had a lot of experience over the years. It’s nearly impossible to goad him into acting impulsively. He can be bold—when he has good reason to believe boldness will win the day—but he’s more given to calculated campaigns. He acts out of firm convictions, not bruised pride. He’s content to let you think you’ve won—to let you think whatever you want, for that matter—while he methodically plans how he will gut you. His patience is his most deadly quality.

“When he attacks, he is indifferent to how many casualties his army takes, as long as he knows he will have more than enough men left to win. But over the course of his career—until his campaign to take the New World, anyway—he’s tended to experience far fewer casualties than his enemies. That’s because he holds no favor with naive notions of classic battle, of troops clashing on a field of honor. His way is usually to attack with such overwhelming numbers as to grind to dust the bones of his opposition.

“What his horde does to the vanquished is legend. For those in their path, the terror of the wait is unbearable. No sane person would want to be left alive to be captured by Jagang’s men.

“For that reason, many welcome him with open arms, with blessings for their liberation, with supplications to be allowed to convert and join the Order.”

The only sound under the embracing shelter of the trees was the gentle patter of the light rain. Victor did not doubt her word; she had been witness to such events.

At times, the knowledge that she had been a part of that perverted cause, that she had been a party to irrational beliefs that reduced men to nothing more than savages, made Nicci long for death. Certainly she deserved no less. But she was now in the unique position of having the opportunity and ability to help reverse the success of the Order. Setting matters right had become the cause that now drove her, sustained her, gave her purpose.

“It’s only a matter of time before Jagang moves to retake Altur’Rang,” Richard said into the silence.

Victor nodded. “Yes, if Jagang thought the revolution was confined to Altur’Rang then he would logically put all his efforts into taking back the city and being as ruthless about it as Nicci says, but we’re making sure that doesn’t happen.” He showed Richard a grim smile. “We’re lighting fires in cities and towns wherever we can, wherever people are ready to cast off their chains. We’re pumping the bellows and spreading the flames of rebellion and freedom far and wide so that Jagang can’t confine and crush it.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” Richard said. “Altur’Rang is his home city. It’s where the revolt against the Order began. A popular uprising in the very city where Jagang was building his grand palace undermines everything the Imperial Order teaches. It was to be the city, the palace, from where Jagang and the high priests of the Fellowship of Order were for all time to rule over mankind in the name of the Creator. The people destroyed that palace and instead embraced freedom.

“Jagang will not allow such subversion of his authority to stand. He must crush the rebellion there if the Order is to survive to rule the Old World—and the New. It will be a matter of principled belief for him; he considers opposition to the ways of the Fellowship of Order to be blasphemy against the Creator. He will not be shy about throwing his most brutal and experienced soldiers into the task. He will want to make a bloody example of you. I’d expect such an attack sooner rather than later.”

Victor looked unsettled but not entirely surprised.

“And don’t forget,” Nicci added, “the Brothers of the Fellowship of Order who escaped will be among those working to help to reestablish the Order’s authority. Such gifted men are no ordinary foe. We’ve hardly begun to root them out.”

“All true enough, but you can’t work iron to your will until you get it good and hot.” Victor tightened a defiant fist before them. “At least we’ve begun to do what must be done.”

Nicci conceded that much with a nod and a small smile to soften the dark picture she had helped paint. She knew that Victor was right, that the task had to begin somewhere and at some point. He had already helped ring the hammer of freedom for a people who had all but given up hope. She just didn’t want him to lose sight of the reality of the difficulty that lay ahead.

Nicci would have been relieved to hear Richard dealing logically with the important matters at hand, but she knew better. When Richard locked on to something vital to him, he might address peripheral issues when necessary but it would be a grave mistake to think that it diminished in the least his focus on his objective. In fact, he had delivered his warnings to Victor in swift summary—a mere matter to be gotten out of the way. She could see in his eyes that he was preoccupied with matters of far more importance to him.

Richard finally turned his riveting gray eyes on Nicci.

“You weren’t with Victor and his men?”

In a sudden flash of comprehension, Nicci realized why the matter of the soldiers and their supply convoy was important to him: It was a mere element of a greater equation. He was trying to unravel how and if the convoy figured into the illusion he still clung to. It was that calculation he was working to resolve.

“No,” Nicci said. “We’d had no word and didn’t know what had happened to you. In my absence, Victor left to begin searching for you. Not long after, I returned to Altur’Rang. I found out where Victor had gone and set out to join him. I was still some distance behind at the end of my second day of travel, so the third day I started out before dawn, hoping to catch up with him. I’d been traveling for almost two hours when I arrived nearby and heard the battle. I reached the fighting right at the end.”

Richard nodded thoughtfully. “I woke and Kahlan was gone. Since we were close to Altur’Rang, my first thought was that if I could find you, then maybe you could help me find Kahlan. That’s when I heard the soldiers coming through the woods.”

Richard gestured up a rise. “I heard them coming through those trees, there. I had darkness on my side. They hadn’t seen me yet, so I was able to surprise them.”

“Why didn’t you hide?” Victor asked.

“More were coming down from that way, and others were coming in from that direction. I didn’t know how many there were, but the way they were fanned out suggested to me that they were searching the woods. That made hiding risky. As long as there was any possibility that Kahlan might be close and maybe hurt, I couldn’t run. If I hid and waited until the soldiers had a chance to find me then I would lose the element of surprise. Worse yet, dawn was approaching. Darkness and surprise worked to my advantage. With Kahlan missing I didn’t have a moment to lose. If they had her, I had to stop them.”

No one commented.

Richard turned to Cara, next. “And where were you?”

Cara blinked in surprise. She had to think a moment before she could answer. “I—I’m not exactly sure.”

Richard frowned. “You’re not sure? What do you remember?”

“I was on watch. I was checking some distance out from our camp. I guess something must have aroused my concern and so I was making sure the area was clear. I caught a whiff of smoke and was starting to investigate that when I heard battle cries.”

“So you rushed back?”

Cara idly pulled her braid forward over her shoulder. She looked to be having difficulty remembering clearly. “No . . .” She frowned in recollection. “No, I knew what was happening—that you were being attacked—because I heard the clash of steel and men dying. I had only just realized that it was Victor and his men camped off in that direction, that it was the smoke from their campfire I smelled. I knew that I was much closer to them than you, so I thought that the smartest thing to do would be to rouse them and bring their help with me.”

“That makes sense,” Richard said. He wearily wiped beads of rain from his face.

“That’s right,” Victor said. “Cara was right there close when I heard the clash of steel as well. I remember because I was lying awake in the quiet.”

Richard’s brow drew together. He looked up. “You were awake?”

“Yes. The howl of a wolf woke me.”