Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

Chapter 20

Having been in countless deadly confrontations, Nicci knew that running right then would be a fatal mistake. Instead, she fell back on instinct and lifted a hand over Ann’s shoulder, summoning every bit of dark power she possessed. Nicci fully committed herself to visiting unrestrained violence upon the three women down the hall.

In the same bewildering instant that she felt the failure of that dynamic connection—and nothing happened—she realized that within the People’s Palace her power was, for the most part, useless. The dead weight of dread descended on her.

From down the corridor lightning ignited. The sudden sound within the confines of the hall was deafening. The blazing light of it arcing through the white passageway nearly blinded her.

Dark ropes of inky blackness tangled with the flare of lightning, creating a snarling mix that cracked and popped where it touched. Sparks flew. The air burned. So black was the Subtractive element that it seemed like a void in existence. In effect, it was.

Marble covering the floor, ceiling, and walls ripped open in ragged rifts at the contact. Stone chips shot through the hall, ricocheting everywhere. Marble dust billowed as the air itself convulsed with the violence of the discharge of power. The concussion snuffed the light of several of the closer torches.

Despite her power being so diminished that the commitment of force failed, in that instant of connecting with her Han, Nicci still had enough use of her gift to feel the familiar shift in her perception of time.

Her arms and legs felt like lead. The world, within the tunnel of her vision, seemed to slow almost to a stop.

She could see every bit of stone tumbling as it flew toward her through the smoky passageway. She would have had ample time to have counted them all while suspended in midair. She could see each chip, flake, and speck rotating as it flew. All the while the lightning thrashed wildly, lashing ever so slowly back and forth, leaving a dazzling tracing of afterglow in Nicci’s vision. The lightning blasted through stone wherever it touched.

At the same time as the world slowed, her mind raced, trying to think of a way to stop what was inexorably coming toward them. But there was nothing within her ability to conjure that could stop Additive and Subtractive Magic laced together in such a violent mix. The power of it cut through stone down to bedrock. The air itself sizzled.

As the rope of liquid light twisted unchecked across the passageway, Ann dove in front of Nicci. Nicci knew all too well what was coming. She knew the nature of the three woman facing them. She knew the sort of lethal power they had invoked.

With no time to scream a command, Nicci instead stretched out to grab the Prelate and throw her down out of harm’s way. She caught the gray dress. Her fingers started the ever so slow labor of closing.

It was a race between getting a firm grip and the flickering lightning that seemed to be raging out of control. But Nicci knew that it wasn’t really out of control.

The crackling discharge of power jumped sideways and slammed squarely into the short woman. The blinding flash ripped right through her, coming out her back. The impact was of such power that it yanked the Prelate from Nicci’s tenuous grasp.

Ann’s squat body crashed into the wall with enough force to crack the marble slab. Such an impact would certainly have broken nearly every bone in her body.

Nicci could see, though, that Annalina Aldurren had been dead before she’d hit the wall.

The lightning abruptly cut off. The clap of thunder left Nicci’s ears ringing. The afterglow burned in her vision.

Ann, her dead eyes staring, slid to the floor and fell over face-first. A pool of blood grew under her, flooding across the white marble.

The three woman down the hall, like three vultures perched on a dead limb, stood shoulder-to-shoulder, watching Nicci.

Nicci knew how they had just accomplished what she could not: they had linked their power. She herself, when they had first been captured by Jagang, had linked her ability with Sisters of the Dark. The three of them had acted as one and by that means had just managed to use their power inside the palace.

What Nicci didn’t know was how they had gotten in.

She expected that at any second the lightning would again ignite and she would suffer the same fate as Ann. There had been a time when she hadn’t cared one way or the other if she died. Now she cared. She cared greatly. She regretted that she would not have the opportunity to fight back before the end. At least it would be swift.

Sister Armina smiled a wicked smile. “Nicci, dear. How good to see you again.”

“Bad company you keep,” said Sister Julia, standing close on Sister Armina’s right.

A stocky Sister Greta, close on her left, glared.

All three were Sisters of the Dark. Sister Armina had been free of Jagang, along with Ulicia, Cecilia, and Tovi. On their own those four had ignited Chainfire, captured Kahlan, and put the boxes of Orden in play.

But Sisters Julia and Greta, whom Nicci also knew well, had long been captives of Jagang. Sister Armina being with the other two made no sense.

Without having the time to consider the implications of those three being together, Nicci decided that if she was to die, she would at least try to fight. She abruptly flung an arm around in an arc, casting the strongest shield she could summon, knowing how weak it would be but hoping it might hold long enough. She bolted in the opposite direction—back toward the stairs.

She hadn’t gone three steps when a rope of compacted air whipped around, sweeping her feet out from under her. She smacked the floor hard. Her shield had proven useless against the power of those three linked.

She was somewhat startled that they had not used the same kind of deadly power that they had on Ann. Not waiting to contemplate why, or for what might follow, Nicci rolled to the left and then scrambled to her feet. She dove through an opening into another hallway. Behind, she could hear the three Sisters running toward her.

With simple, empty halls made of smooth marble, there was no place to hide. Nicci knew that if she ran they would simply ignite a bolt of power to take her down. She had no real chance to outrun them and escape the reach of their power. But, since they were already running after her, they would probably be expecting her to run, so Nicci instead pressed her back up against the wall just around the corner of the next intersection, on the side closest to the three coming for her.

She panted, catching her breath, trying to keep as quiet as possible. From where she waited she couldn’t see Ann’s body, but she could see the bright stain of blood running across the white marble floor.

It was hard to believe that Ann was dead. She had been witness to the rise and fall of kingdoms and the passing of countless generations over a vast march of time. It seemed she had been alive forever. It was numbing to try to imagine a world without Annalina Aldurren.

Although the Prelate had not been beloved by Nicci, she still felt a pang of grief for her. The woman had finally seemed to come to terms with some of her mistakes. After all this time, after such a long life, she had finally come to have real love in her life.

As Nicci heard the footsteps rushing close she gathered her wits. This was no time to grieve.

Nicci was hardly a stranger to violence and death, but she was not at all used to this manner of combat. As Death’s Mistress she had been witness to thousands of deaths, and had killed more people than she could count or recall, but she had never done it with her bare hands. Now, without her power, that was her only option. She tried to think of how Richard would do such a thing.

As the three Sisters charged around the corner, Nicci used all her strength to ram her elbow into the face of the closest woman. She heard teeth snap. Her heart was pumping so fast she didn’t even feel the blow in her elbow. Sister Julia was knocked sprawling on her back.

Without pause, even as Sister Julia was still sliding across the floor, Nicci sprang at Sister Armina, grabbing her by the hair. She used the women’s forward momentum to propel her across the hall and slam her head into the wall. Her skull made a sickening thwack against the stone. Nicci hoped to at least knock the woman out, if not kill her. If there was only one Sister left standing she wouldn’t be able to use her power any better than Nicci could.

But Sister Armina was still very conscious. She screamed curses as she struggled to get free. Nicci pulled her back, while she had the initiative, lifting her by the hair in order to get another swing to bash her face against the wall.

Before she could accomplish the task, the stout Sister Greta crashed into Nicci’s middle, knocking her to the side, off Sister Armina. The flying weight of the Sister whacked Nicci against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of her. She blindly clawed at the woman tackling her, trying to get her off.

Sister Greta, holding Nicci tightly around the middle, twisted to the side, easily throwing her face-first to the ground. Nicci flipped over to kick Sister Greta away.

Sister Armina, blood running down her face, planted a boot on Nicci’s chest. Sister Greta rose up next to her, catching her breath.

Before Nicci could struggle to get up, a jolt of pain seared up through her body, exploding at the base of her skull. The shock of it drove the air from her lungs. The two of them joining their gift was enough to incapacitate Nicci.

“Not a very gracious way to greet your Sisters,” Sister Greta said.

Nicci tried to ignore the pain. Her arms flailed as she tried to get up, but Sister Armina put more weight on her foot and at the same time expanded the sharp barbs of pain. Nicci’s vision blurred down to a small spot at the center of a dark tunnel of blackness, her back arched as her muscles convulsed into knots. Her fingers clawed at the floor. She thought that she might do anything to make it stop.

“I suggest that you stay where you are,” Sister Armina said, “or, if you prefer, we’ll remind you just how much more agony we can deliver.” She arched an eyebrow at Nicci. “Hmm?”

Nicci couldn’t speak. Tears of torment streaming from her eyes, she instead nodded.

Sister Julia stumbled close, both hands held tightly over her mouth as she bawled in pain and anger. Blood hung in strings from her chin, covered the front of her faded blue dress, and dripped from her elbows.

Sister Armina, her foot still on Nicci’s chest, leaned down, resting an arm across her knee.

In a voice only partly her own, she said, “Returned to us at long last, darlin?”

Nicci’s blood flashed icy cold.

She realized that it was Jagang’s gaze looking down at her.

Had she not been in such agony, had it not been all she could do just to breath, she surely would have run, even if it would have meant sudden death. Sudden death would be preferable.

Unable to run, she instead envisioned gouging out Sister Armina’s eyes—Jagang’s window.

“I’m going to kick your teeth in for this!” Sister Julia said in a muffled voice from behind the hands clamped over her mouth. “I’m going to—”

“Shut up,” Sister Armina said in that terrible voice only half her own, “or I’ll not allow them to heal you.”

Sister Julia’s eyes flashed with terror at recognizing Jagang addressing her. She fell silent.

Sister Armina held a hand out to her. “Give it to me.”

Sister Julia slipped bloody fingers into a pocket and brought out something unexpected, something that made Nicci’s breath catch with fright. Sister Julia handed it to Sister Armina.

Sister Armina removed her foot and went down on one knee, leaning over a prostrated Nicci. Nicci knew what was coming. She struggled with all her might, all her panic, but she couldn’t manage to make her body respond. Her muscles were locked rigid with the tingling power searing through her nerves.

Sister Armina bent forward and forced the blood-slicked collar around Nicci’s neck.

Nicci felt the Rada’Han snap closed.

In the same instant, she lost the link to her Han.

She had been born with the gift. Most of the time she never gave it any thought. Now she was cut completely off from her ability. Like her eyesight or hearing, it had always been there, always been something she used without thought. Now there was only a terrifyingly unfamiliar void.

Such an abrupt separation from her gift stunned her. To be without it was to be without a part of her, without the very core of her, of who she was, of what she was.

“On your feet,” Sister Armina said.

When the pain at last eased off, Nicci’s whole body sagged against the floor. She didn’t know if her muscles would work, or if she would have the strength to get up, but she knew Sister Armina well enough not to hesitate. She flopped over and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. When she didn’t move fast enough for Sister Armina, a stunning shock of pain slammed into the small of Nicci’s back. She sucked back a scream. Her arms and legs shot out straight involuntarily and she dropped flat to the floor.

Sister Greta chuckled.

“Get up,” Sister Armina said, “or I will show you some real pain.”

Nicci pushed herself up on her hands and knees again. She gasped, getting her breath. Tears dripped onto the dusty floor. Knowing better than to delay, she struggled to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but she managed to stay upright.

“Just kill me,” Nicci said. “I’m not going to cooperate, no matter how much you make it hurt.”

Sister Armina cocked her head, peering closely at Nicci with one eye. “Oh, darlin, I think you’re wrong about that.”

It was once again Jagang speaking.

A blinding shimmer of agony, delivered by the collar around her neck, cascaded down through Nicci’s core. The pain was so stunning that it dropped her to her knees.

She had endured pain from Jagang before, when he had been able to enter her mind, before she learned how to stop him. It was her devotion to Richard—the bond—that had protected her just as it protected those from D’Hara and those who followed the Lord Rahl. But before that, when he had been able to enter her mind, just as he could enter the minds of these Sisters, now, he had been able to make it feel like he was pushing thin iron spikes deep into Nicci’s ears, then send the pain ripping downward through her insides.

This was worse.

She stared at the floor, fully expecting blood to run from her ears and nose and begin carpeting the stone. She blinked as she gasped in utter agony, but she saw no blood. She wished she did. If she bled enough she would die.

She knew Jagang well enough, though, to know that he would not allow her to die. Not yet, anyway.

The dream walker didn’t like a swift death for people who angered him. Nicci knew that there was probably no one Jagang wanted to make suffer more than her. He would eventually kill her, of course, but he would extract his vengeance first. He would no doubt give her to his men for a time, just to humiliate her, then send her to the torture tents. That part of it, she knew, would last a very long time. When he eventually became bored with her suffering, she would spend her final days having her intestines pulled slowly out of a slit in her belly. He would want to be there to see her finally die, to make sure that the last thing she saw before the end was him smiling in triumph.

The one thing that she regretted at that moment, in the realization of what was about to befall her, was that she would never see Richard again. She thought that if she could only see him one more time she could endure what was to come.

Sister Armina stepped closer, close enough to be sure that Nicci could see her superior smile. She was now in control of the collar around Nicci’s neck. Jagang, too, could now dominate her through that connection as well.

The Rada’Han was meant to control young wizards. It acted on the gift. Though the People’s Palace diminished her gift—prevented the projection of power—it would not impede the collar, because the Rada’Han worked internally. The device could cause unimaginable pain—enough pain that a boy would do anything to make it stop.

Nicci, on her knees, trembled as she gasped in agony. Her vision went darker and darker until she could hardly see anything. Her ears rang.

“Do you now fully understand what will happen should you disobey us?” Sister Armina asked.

Nicci couldn’t answer. She had no voice. She managed a slight nod.

Sister Armina leaned down. The blood had finally stopped running from her scalp. “Then get to your feet, Sister.”

The pain finally lifted enough for Nicci to be able to stand.

She didn’t want to stand. She wanted them to kill her. Jagang was not going to allow that, though. Jagang wanted to get his hands on her.

As her vision began to clear, she saw that Sister Greta was back across the hall, rummaging through Ann’s pockets. She pulled something from a pocket hidden under Ann’s belt. She looked it over and then held it up.

“Guess what I found,” she said, waving it for the other two to see. “Should we take it?”

“Yes,” Sister Armina said, “but be quick about it.”

Sister Greta shoved the small item in her pocket and returned to the other two. “There’s nothing else on her.”

Sister Armina nodded. “We’d best be quick.”

The three stood shoulder to shoulder, facing back down the hall toward Ann. Nicci could tell that, even with the link, they were still having difficulty using their power. Without the spell of the People’s Palace draining their Han, any of the three of them, by herself, could have easily wielded the kind of power that had killed Ann.

The air cracked with the ignition of Subtractive Magic. The hallways dimmed as several more torches were blown out by the blast. Inky darkness undulated through the passageway, back toward the Prelate, finally enveloping the dead woman. The hum of power made Nicci again momentarily lose her vision under the oppressive blanket of blackness.

When her sight returned, Ann was gone. Even her blood was gone. Every trace of her existence had been wiped away by Subtractive Magic. It seemed impossible that nearly a thousand years of life could be gone in an instant.

No one would ever know what had happened to her.

While the body and the blood had been eliminated, the shattered marble was not so easily fixed. The Sisters didn’t seem to care.

To Nicci, it felt as if everything, even all hope, had just died.

Sister Armina seized Nicci under the arm and shoved her down the passageway. Nicci stumbled but regained her footing before she fell. She walked woodenly ahead of the three, prodded to keep moving by sharp reminders the collar sent into her tender kidneys.

They hadn’t gone far before Nicci was directed to turn down a hallway to the left. She numbly followed their orders, making turns and taking several smaller passageways when told to until at the end of a lesser hallway they ended at an entrance to a tomb. Rather simple brass-clad doors stood closed. They weren’t nearly as massive, or ornately decorated, as some of the others she’d seen when she’d visited the tomb of Richard’s grandfather, Panis Rahl, located in a distant area.

Nicci thought that it was odd to be going to a tomb. She wondered if the Sisters were intending to hide until they could think of a way to make good their escape from the heavily guarded palace. Since it was night, perhaps they intended to wait until a busier time of day so they wouldn’t be as easily noticed. How they had gotten in, Nicci couldn’t imagine.

Each door was embossed with a simple circle-within-a-circle motif. Sister Greta pulled one door open and ushered the others in, Nicci in the lead.

Inside, the Sisters used a spark of power to light a single torch. An ornately decorated coffin rested on a raised floor in the center of the small room. The walls above the height of the coffin were covered in stone of swirling browns and tans. Black granite that in the torchlight sparkled with copper flakes covered the lower portion of the walls.

It was an odd arrangement, almost making the upper portion, above coffin height, seem like the world of life, while the area below covered in black stone was reminiscent of the underworld.

Cut into the upper, lighter stone were the primary invocations in High D’Haran. They ran in bands around the room. Nicci scanned the script, seeing that it appeared to be rather common appeals to the good spirits to welcome this Rahl leader into the ranks of the good spirits along with others who had come before him. It spoke of the man’s life and the things he had done for his people.

Nothing of any particular significance in the writing stood out to Nicci. It seemed to be the tomb of a Lord Rahl from the distant past who had served his people by ruling during a rather peaceful time in D’Haran history. The words called it a time of “transition.”

Inscribed in the black granite covering the lower walls was a rather odd admonition to remember the foundation that made all that lay above them possible. That foundation, it said, had been laid by all the countless souls long forgotten.

The coffin itself, made of smooth stone in a simple shape, was covered with inscriptions advising those who visited to keep in mind all those who had passed from this life and into the next.

Sister Armina, surprisingly, put her weight against one end of the coffin. With a grunt of effort, she pushed, and the coffin moved a few inches, exposing a lever. She reached down into the narrow slot, grasped the lever, and pulled it up until it clicked into place.

The coffin pivoted, making only a whisper of sound.

Once the coffin had turned aside, Nicci was surprised to see a dark opening. This was no tomb. It was a hidden entrance to whatever lay below.

When Sister Julia shoved her, Nicci stepped forward onto the raised platform until she saw stairs, roughly hewn from rock, descending into darkness.

Sister Greta stepped down into the opening. She lit one of a dozen torches stuck in a row of holes in the rough stone wall and then took it with her as she started down. Sister Julia went next, also taking a torch.

“Well,” Sister Armina said, “what are you waiting for? Get going.”