Chainfire: Chainfire Trilogy Part 1

Chapter 52

In the plush library, Richard stood behind Zedd, watching over his grandfather’s bony shoulder as he flipped open a thick book bound in tattered, tan leather. The room was rather dimly lit by a number of silver reflector lamps on all four sides of five thick mahogany posts standing in a line down the center of the room. They held up the leading edge of a balcony running the length of the room. Heavy, dark wooden tables with polished tops lined the center of the room down the line of posts. Wooden chairs were spaced around the outside of the tables. Opulent carpets with elaborately woven patterns felt soft and quiet underfoot. Perpendicular to the long walls on each side were aisles of shelves packed with books. Above, the balcony held closely spaced shelves filled with yet more volumes.

A gray-blue shaft of sunlight slanting in from the single window up high at the very end of the room lit the dust floating in the stuffy air. The freshly lit lamps added an oily smell. The room had a vaultlike quiet about it.

Cara and Rikka stood off by themselves in the darker area beneath the window at the end of the room, arms folded, heads together, talking in low voices. Nicci stood beside Zedd along one edge of a table lit in a glowing rectangle of sunlight while Ann and Nathan stood impatiently on the opposite side, waiting for Zedd’s explanation of how prophecy had vanished. Standing there, in the island of light, the rest of the room faded away into gloomy shadows around them.

“This book was compiled, I believe, sometime not long after the great war had ended,” Zedd told them as he tapped the open cover near the title: Continuum Ratios and Viability Predictions. “The gifted back then had discovered that, for whatever reason, fewer and fewer wizards were being born and the ones who were being born were not being born with both sides of the gift, as had almost always been the case before. What’s more, the ones who were being born with the gift were all being born with only the Additive side. Subtractive Magic was vanishing.”

Ann looked up from under her brow. “It is hardly a novice and a boy wizard standing before you, old man. We know all this. We have spent our lives devoted to this very problem. Get on with it.”

Zedd cleared his throat. “Yes, well, as you may know, this also meant that there were fewer and fewer prophets being born.”

“How remarkably fascinating,” Ann mocked. “I, for one, would never have guessed such a thing.”

Nathan irritably hushed her. “Go on, Zedd.”

Zedd pushed back his sleeves, briefly casting a scowl Ann’s way. “They realized that, with ever fewer wizards born to prophecy, the body of work of prophecy was of course going to cease to grow. In order to understand what the consequences of this might mean, they decided that they needed to do an intensive investigation of the entire subject of prophecy while they still could, while they still had prophets and other wizards with both sides of the gift.

“They approached the problem with the gravest of concern, realizing that with them, this might very well be mankind’s last opportunity to comprehend the future of prophecy itself, and to offer future generations an insight to understanding what these wizards were increasingly coming to believe would one day be seriously corrupted or even lost.”

Zedd glanced up to see if Ann looked like she intended to offer anymore disparaging comments. She did not. This was apparently something she hadn’t known.

“Now,” he said, “to their work.”

Richard moved up to the table beside Nicci and with a finger turned over pages as he listened to Zedd. He quickly noticed that the book was written in such strange technical jargon having to do with the intricacies of not only magic but prophecy as well that it was nearly incomprehensible to him. It might as well have been a different language.

One of the surprises was that the book contained a series of complex mathematical formulas. These were interrupted by diagrams of the moon and stars marked with angles of declination. Richard had never before seen a book about magic that contained such equations, celestial observations, and measurements—not that he had actually seen that many books about magic. Although, he recalled, The Book of Counted Shadows that he had memorized as a boy did have a number of sun and star angles that were necessary to know in order to open the boxes of Orden.

Yet more formulas were scratched in the margins, but by different hands, as if someone had come along and done the sums to check the work in the book, or perhaps approached it with updated information. In one instance, several of the numbers in an elaborate table were crossed out, with arrows pointing from new numbers scribbled in the margins to the stricken numbers in the tables. Zedd occasionally stopped Richard from turning pages in order to point out an equation and explain the symbols involved in the calculation.

Like a dog watching a bone, Nathan’s dark azure eyes tracked the pages as Richard slowly turned each over, idly looking for anything that made sense to him as Zedd droned on about overlapping transpositional forks and triple duplexes bound to conjugated roots compromised by precession and sequential, proportional, binary inversions shrouding flawed bifurcations that the formulas revealed which could only be detected through Subtractive levorotatory.

Nathan and Ann stared without blinking. Once, Nathan even gasped. Ann incrementally went ashen. Even Nicci seemed to be listening with uncharacteristic attention.

The unfathomable concepts made Richard’s head spin. He hated that feeling of drowning in incomprehensible information, of trying to keep his head above the dark waters of complete confusion. It made him feel dumb.

Intermittently, Zedd referred to numbers and equations from the book. Nathan and Ann acted like they thought Zedd was on the verge of revealing not only how the world was going to end but the precise hour.

“Zedd,” Richard finally asked, interrupting his grandfather in the middle of a sentence that showed no signs of ever coming to an end, “is there any way you can boil this stew down to some meat that I can chew?”

Mouth agape, Zedd regarded Richard for a moment before pushing the book across the table to Nathan. “I’ll let you read it for yourself.”

Nathan cautiously picked up the book as if the Keeper himself might pop out at him.

Zedd turned back to Richard. “Basically, to put it in terms you might better grasp, and at great risk of oversimplifying it, imagine that prophecy is like a tree, with roots and branches. Like a tree, prophecy was continually growing. What these wizards were basically saying was that the tree of prophecy behaved as if there were a kind of life to it. They weren’t saying that it was alive, mind you, only that in a number of ways it mimicked—not duplicated—some attributes of a living organism. It was this property that allowed them to come up with their theory and from that run their calculations—in much the way there are parameters by which you can judge the age and health of a tree and from that extrapolate about its future.

“During a previous time when there had been a great many prophets and wizards around, the works of prophecy and its many branches grew quite rapidly. With all the prophets who had contributed, it had solid, fertile ground in which to grow, and deep roots. With new prophets constantly bringing new vision to the collected works, new forks of prophecy sprouted continuously and those new branches, over time as other prophets added to them, grew thick and strong. As it grew, prophets continually examined, observed, and interpreted events, enabling them to tend the living stock and prune the deadwood.

“But then, the birthrate of prophets began to plummet and with each passing year there were fewer and fewer of them to attend to such duties. Because of this, the growth of the tree of prophecy began to slow.

“In essence, to explain it in simple terms you can understand, the tree of prophecy had in a way matured. Like an old monarch oak in a forest, these wizards knew that the vast tree of prophecy had many years of life ahead of it as a mature entity, but they also knew what the future eventually held in store.

“Like all things, the existence of prophecy could not be eternal. As time passed, prophetic events came to pass, becoming outdated. These no longer served any use. In this fashion, if nothing else, the passage of time would eventually supersede all the predictions dealt with in the work. In other words, without new prophecy, all the existing prophecy, whether or not they turned out to be true forks, nonetheless would eventually reach their chance in the chronological flux. As they did, their time passed—they would be used up.

“Thus, the commission studying the problem came to realize that the tree of prophecy, without the growth and life that it drew from prophets, from the constant stream of prophecy feeding the many branches, would eventually die. Their task, and the purpose of this book, Continuum Ratios and Viability Predictions, was to try to predict how and when this would happen.

“The best minds in prophecy studied the problem, took a measure of the health of the tree of prophecy. Through known formulas and predictions based on not only observed patterns in the decline of growth in prophecy, but a decline in prophets to sustain it, they determined how this particular tree of knowledge would become heavy with the deadwood of false and expired prophecy as prophetic forks were reached and chronology moved on down the sections of branches still viable. As this happened—as the tree of prophecy grew thick with age and deadwood that could no longer be culled by true prophets—they predicted how it would become susceptible to, to, well, a kind of malady, a decay, much like an old tree in the forest will eventually become susceptible to disease.

“That decline in viability, they found, would, over time, leave prophecy vulnerable to any number of ever growing problems. The infirmity that they concluded would be the most likely to strike first would come in a form they described as wormlike. They thought that it would begin to infest and destroy the living portions of the tree of prophecy itself, meaning the branches that are contemporary at the time of this wormlike infestation. In fact, they called it just that—a prophecy worm.”

The air felt heavy in the thick silence.

Hands in his back pockets, Richard shrugged. “So what’s the cure?”

Astonished by the question, Zedd stared at Richard as if he’d just asked how to heal a thunderstorm. “Cure? Richard, these experts who wrote this book predicted that there wasn’t any cure, as such. They concluded, in the end, that without the vitality provided by new prophets, the tree of prophecy would eventually rot and die.

“They said that prophecy would only come back strong and healthy when new prophets returned to the world—in effect, when a seed of new prophecy sprouted and flourished. Old trees die and make room for the new shoots. It was determined by these learned wizards that the fate of prophecy as we know it is also doomed to aging, infirmity, and eventual death.”

Richard had had to deal with any number of problems caused by prophecy, but the gloomy expressions around the table were infectious. It almost felt like a healer had come out of a back room to announce that an aging relative was near to passing on.

He thought about all the gifted prophets, devoted to their calling, who had worked all of their lives to contribute to this great body of work that was now withering and dying. He thought about the statue he himself had worked so hard to create and how it made him feel when it was destroyed.

He thought, too, that it might simply be the concept of death itself, in any form, that was so dismal because it reminded him of his own mortality—and of Kahlan’s mortality.

He also thought that it might be the best thing that could happen. After all, if people no longer believed that prophecy had foreordained what would become of them, then maybe they would realize that they had to think for themselves and decide what was in their own best interest. Maybe, if unchained from a deterministic mindset, people would realize that it was they themselves who actually controlled their own destiny. If people comprehended what was really at stake, maybe they would come to realize the value of reason in the choices they made, instead of mindlessly just waiting for what was to happen, to happen.

“From what Ann and I have discovered,” Nathan said into the still, stale air of the library, “the branch of prophecy that is vanishing is that which refers to times roughly since Richard was born. That, of course, makes the most sense because temporal souls nourish the active, living tissue of prophecy upon which this prophecy worm would feed. But I was able to determine that it hasn’t all simply vanished, yet.”

Zedd nodded. “It’s dying back, but from the root, so some of it is still alive. I’ve found pockets of it alive and well.”

“That’s right—especially the portions from the present on into the future. As you suggest, it seems that the scourge has attacked the core of these branches, which began two or three decades back and so far have not extensively eaten their way into future events.

“That leaves sections of this prophetic branch—the branch involving you—that are still alive,” the prophet said as he leaned on his hands toward Richard, “but once it dies, we will then lose even those prophecies, along with the memory of how profoundly important they are.”

Richard glanced from Nathan’s grim expression to Ann’s equally serious face. He knew they had arrived at last at the heart of their purpose.

“That is why we’ve come looking for you, Richard Rahl,” Ann said with grave intonation, “before it’s too late. We have come about prophecy that so far is still alive and has warned us of the most serious crisis to face us since the great war.”

Richard frowned, already unhappy that prophecy once again seemed about to cause him trouble. “What prophecy?”

Nathan pulled a small book out of a pocket and flipped it open. As he held it in both hands, he fixed Richard with a steady gaze to make sure he looked like he was going to listen carefully.

When Nathan was at last sure he had everyone’s attention, he began. “ ‘In the year of the cicadas, when the champion of sacrifice and suffering, under the banner of both mankind and the Light’ ”—he glanced up from under his bushy eyebrows—“that would be Emperor Jagang—‘finally splits his swarm, thus shall be the sign that prophecy has been awakened and the final and deciding battle is upon us. Be cautioned, for all true forks and their derivatives are tangled in this mantic root. Only one trunk branches from this conjoined primal origin. If fuer grissa ost drauka does not lead this final battle, then the world, already standing at the brink of darkness, will fall under that terrible shadow.’ ”

“Dear spirits,” Zedd whispered. “Fuer grissa ost drauka is a cardinal link to a prophecy founding a principal fork. Conjoining it with this prophecy establishes a conjugate bifurcation.”

Nathan arched an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

Richard didn’t fully understand what Zedd had said, but he caught the drift. And he didn’t need them to tell him who fuer grissa ost drauka, the bringer of death, was; it was him.

“Jagang has split his forces,” Ann said with quiet power as she fixed Richard in her steady gaze. “He brought his army up near to Aydindril, hoping to finish it, but the D’Haran forces, along with the people of the city, made use of winter to escape over the passes to D’Hara and out of Jagang’s clutches.”

“I know,” Richard said. “That escape over the passes in winter was by Kahlan’s orders. She’s the one who told me about it.”

Cara looked up in surprise, apparently intending to dispute his account, but after a glance at Nicci she decided to remain silent—at least for the moment.

“At any rate,” Ann said, sounding annoyed by the interruption, “Jagang, unable to effectively use his vastly superior numbers to break through those heavily defended, very narrow passes, has finally decided to split his forces. Leaving an army to watch the passes, the emperor himself took the main element of his army south, headed all the way back down through the Midlands to skirt around the barrier of mountains and then hook around and make his way up into D’Hara.

“Our forces are headed south, down through D’Hara, to meet them. That was why when we were able to get a message from Verna about the condition of the books of prophecy at the People’s Palace in D’Hara; she was able to ride south ahead of our army and go look them over herself.”

“This is the year that the cicadas are returning,” Nicci said, sounding alarmed. “I’ve seen them.”

“That’s right,” Nathan said, still leaning forward on both hands. “That means the chronology is now fixed. The prophecies have all made their connections and have tumbled into place. Events are marked.” In turn, he met the gaze of everyone in the room. “The end is upon us.”

Zedd let out a low whistle.

“More importantly,” Ann said in an authoritative tone, “it means that it is time for Lord Rahl to join the D’Haran forces and lead them in the final battle. Without you there, Richard, prophecy is quite clear; all will be lost. We have come to escort you to your forces, to help insure that you make it. We dare not risk delay; we must leave at once.”

For the first time since they started talking about prophecy, Richard’s knees felt weak.

“But I can’t,” he said. “I have to find Kahlan.”

It sounded to him like a plea into a gale.

Ann took a deep breath, as if to bite her tongue while she searched for some urgently needed patience, or maybe words that would persuade him and finally settle the matter once and for all. The two Mord-Sith shared a look. Zedd pressed his thin lips tight while he considered. In frustration Nathan tossed the book he was holding on the table and wiped his hand across his face as he planted his left fist on a hip.

Richard didn’t know what he could say to them all that would have any chance of making them understand that something profoundly serious was wrong in the world and Kahlan was only a piece of the puzzle—by far the most important piece, but still a part of something much larger. Ever since the morning when she had disappeared, he had argued himself sick about the urgent need to find her and it never seemed to do any good at convincing anyone that he knew what he was talking about. He had no interest in yet again wasting his energy on the same fruitless explanations.

“You what?” Ann said, her displeasure bubbling up to the surface like dross in a cauldron. At that moment, she was very much again the Prelate, a squat woman who somehow managed to seem towering.

“I have to find Kahlan,” Richard repeated.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We simply don’t have time for any of this nonsense.” Ann had dismissed his wants, interests, and needs out of hand, to say nothing of what he believed were his rational and important reasons. “We have come to see to it that you get to the D’Haran army immediately. Everyone is waiting on you. Everyone is depending on you. The time has come when you must lead our forces in the final battle that is now rapidly descending upon us.”

“I can’t,” Richard said in a quiet but firm voice.

“Prophecy demands it!” Ann shouted.

Richard realized that Ann had changed. Everyone had changed in little ways since Kahlan had disappeared, but Ann had changed in more overt ways. The last time she had come, with the very same purpose, to demand that Richard go with her to lead the war, Kahlan had thrown Ann’s journey book in a fire, telling the former Prelate that prophecy was not driving events, but rather Ann was by trying to make people follow prophecy in an effort to make it come true, that she was acting as prophecy’s enforcer. Kahlan had shown Ann how she herself, as the Prelate, by being prophecy’s handmaiden, might very well have actually been the one who’d brought the world to the brink of cataclysm. Because of Kahlan’s words, Ann had done some deep soul-searching that had eventually helped make her more rational, and more understanding of how Richard was the one who had to choose to do what was right.

Now, with the memory of Kahlan gone, everything that had happened with Kahlan was also wiped away. Ann, like everyone else, had reverted to the disposition she’d shown before Kahlan’s influence. It made Richard’s head hurt, sometimes, just trying to recall exactly what Kahlan had done with everyone that they wouldn’t now remember so that he could take that into account when he dealt with them. With some people, like Shota, it had actually in some ways helped him. Shota, for instance, because of losing her memory of Kahlan, hadn’t recalled that she told Richard that if he ever returned to Agaden Reach she would kill him. With other people, like Ann, it was proving to make matters much more difficult.

“Kahlan threw your journey book in a fire,” he told her. “She was fed up with you trying to control my life, as am I.”

Ann frowned. “I accidentally dropped my journey book in the fire myself.”

Richard sighed. “I see.” He didn’t want to argue because he knew it would do no good. No one in the room believed him. Cara would do whatever he wanted her to do, but she didn’t believe him. Nicci didn’t believe him, but wanted him to act as he believed he must. Nicci was the one who had actually given him the most encouragement he had gotten since Kahlan had disappeared.

“Richard,” Nathan said in a gentler, more benevolent voice, “this is not some simple little thing. You have been born to prophecy. The world stands at the brink of a great dark age. You hold the key to preventing a slide into that long, terrible night. You are the one prophecy says can save our cause—the cause you yourself believe in. You must do your duty. You can’t let us down.”

Richard was sick and tired of being driven by events. He was at his wits end with not understanding what was going on, with always feeling like he was one step behind the rest of the world and two steps behind whatever had happened to Kahlan. He was getting angry that everyone was telling him what to do and no one was interested in what was of paramount importance to him. They didn’t even want to let him decide his own fate. They thought prophecy had already decided for him.

It had not.

He needed to find out the truth of what had happened to Kahlan. He needed to find Kahlan, period. He was fed up with wasting time on what prophecy, along with any number of people, thought he ought to be doing. Anyone who was not helping him was, in reality, holding him back from something vitally important.

“I have no responsibility to live up to what anyone else expects of me,” he said to Ann as he picked up the small book Nathan had brought with him.

Ann and Nathan stared in surprise.

He felt Nicci’s reassuring hand on the small of his back. She may not believe in his memory of Kahlan, but at least she had helped him see that he had to be true to his principles. She wouldn’t allow him to lose by default. She had been a valued friend when he needed one the most.

The only other person he knew who would stand by him in that way, stand up to him in that way, was Kahlan.

He thumbed past all the blank pages in the book Nathan had brought. Richard was curious to see if there was more that might change the picture, if they were only telling him what they wanted him to believe. He also would like to find something—anything—that would help him understand what was going on.

And something was going on. Zedd’s explanation of the prophecy worm sounded airtight, but something about it bothered Richard. It explained the missing text in the books of prophecy in a way that suited what these people wanted to believe. It was too convenient and, worse, it was too much of a coincidence.

Coincidence always made Richard suspicious.

Nicci had a good point as well; it seemed just a little too convenient that the body buried down at the Confessors’ Palace would have a ribbon with Kahlan’s name embroidered on it—Just in case there was any doubt, should someone dig up the body?

After blank page upon blank page, Richard found the writing. It was exactly as Nathan had read it.

There were several things about the passage that puzzled Richard. For one thing, the reference to cicadas. It seemed a lowly creature to be worthy of prophetic mention, to say nothing of such a central role in the—purportedly—most important prophecy in three thousand years. He supposed that it could make sense that it was a key that helped set the chronology, but, from what others had told him, prophecy never went out of its way to set chronology, making it one of prophecy’s most difficult issues.

It also troubled him that this prophecy, so distant in so many ways from the other he had read at the Palace of the Prophets, would also refer to him in High D’Haran as fuer grissa ost drauka. He supposed that it could be, as Zedd had suggested, that such a linkage meant it was important.

But the link to the prophecy Richard had seen at the Palace of the Prophets with the reference to fuer grissa ost drauka was strongly connected to something else: the boxes of Orden.

In the old prophecy that named Richard the bringer of death, the word death meant three different things, depending on how it was used: the bringer of the underworld, the world of the dead; the bringer of spirits, spirits of the dead; and the bringer of death, meaning to kill. Each meaning was different, but all three were intended.

The second meaning had to do with how he used the Sword of Truth, and the third simply that he’d had to kill people. But the first meaning involved the boxes of Orden.

He supposed that in the context of the prophecy at hand, the third meaning seemed the obvious, that he had to lead the army and kill the enemy, so calling him fuer grissa ost drauka did make sense. Yet again, things seemed awfully convenient.

All the convenient explanations and coincidences were making Richard more than just a little suspicious. With Kahlan’s disappearance involved, he felt that there had to be more to what was going on.

He turned to the page ahead of the passage, and then the one preceding it, checking. They were blank.

“I have a problem with this,” he said, looking up at all the eyes watching him.

“And what would that be?” Ann asked as she folded her arms. She used the same tone of voice she would have if she’d been talking to an inexperienced, untrained, ignorant boy freshly brought to the Palace of the Prophets to be trained in the use of his gift.

“Well, there’s nothing around it,” he said. “It’s all blank.”

Nathan covered his face with a hand while Ann threw her arms in the air in a gesture of baffled outrage. “Of course not! They’ve vanished, along with a great deal more. That’s what we’ve just been talking about. That’s why this one is so important!”

“But without knowing the context, you can’t really say that this one is important, now, can you? To understand any information one must know the context.”

Contrary to Ann and Nathan’s agitation, Zedd smiled to himself at lessons taught long ago and remembered.

Nathan looked up. “What does that have to do with this prophecy?”

“Well, for all we know, there might have been mitigating text right before this, or something right after that went on to dismiss this. With the copy missing how are we to know? This prophecy could have been superseded by just about anything.”

Zedd smiled. “The boy has a point.”

“He’s not a boy,” Ann growled. “He’s a man, and the Lord Rahl, the head of the D’Haran Empire that he himself pulled together to fight the Imperial Order, and he’s supposed to lead those forces. All of our lives depend on him doing so.”

As Richard flipped back through the book, he saw writing that he hadn’t seen the first time. He paged back to it.

“Here’s something else that didn’t vanish,” he said.

“What?” Nathan asked with incredulity as he twisted around to look. “There was nothing else. I’m sure of it.”

“Right here,” Richard said, tapping a finger on the words. “It says, ‘Here we come.’ What could that mean? And why did it not vanish?”

“ ‘Here we come’?” Nathan’s face distorted in a look of confusion. “I never saw that before.”

Richard turned back more pages. “Look. Here it is again. Same thing. ‘Here we come.’ ”

“I could have missed it once, perhaps,” Nathan said, “but there is no way I could have missed a second one. You must be wrong.”

“No, look,” Richard said, turning the book to show the prophet. He went backward through the book, turning blank pages until he came to writing. “Here it is again. A whole page of the same thing written over and over.”

Nathan’s jaw hung in speechless astonishment. Nicci peered over Richard’s shoulder. Zedd rushed around next to him to see the writing in the book. Even the two Mord-Sith came to have a look.

Richard turned a page forward, to what a moment before had been blank. There, down the page, was the same sentence written over and over and over.

“I watched you turning it back.” Nicci’s silken voice carried a clear undertone of disquiet. “I know that page was blank an instant ago.”

Goose bumps prickled up Richard’s arms. The hair at the nape of his neck lifted.

He looked up and saw something dark coalescing out of the deep shadows beneath the beam of sunlight coming from the high window at the end of the room.

Too late, he remembered Shota’s warning not to read prophecy, that if he did the blood beast would be able to find him.

He reached for his sword.

His sword wasn’t there.