Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

Chapter 58

“Before we start a war,” Richard said in a near whisper, “I need to get into the place where I hid the book. I have to get it back first, in case anything goes wrong.”

Kahlan let out a breath as she appraised the look of determination in his eyes. “All right, but I don’t like it. It just feels like a trap. Once we get in there we’re liable to be snared. We may have to fight a war to get out.”

“If we have to, we will.”

Kahlan remembered the way Richard fought with a sword—or with a broc, for that matter. But this was different.

“And if we get caught in here do you think that sword of yours is going to be any good against a witch woman who could be lurking anywhere?”

He looked away from her eyes to check the hallway again. “The world is about to end for a great many good people who love life and just want to live it. That includes you, and me. I don’t have any choice. I have to get that book.”

He leaned out to check the other direction down the dimly lit hallway. Kahlan could hear the approaching echo of boots as soldiers patrolled. So far they had been able to evade a number of them. Richard was very good at moving in dark passages and hiding in plain sight.

They pressed back into the shallow shadow of the recessed doorway, trying to make themselves as flat as possible. The four guards, talking about the women in town, rounded the nearby corner and strolled by, too eager to brag about their conquests to notice Richard and Kahlan hiding in the dark doorway. Kahlan, holding her breath, could hardly believe that they hadn’t been spotted. She kept a tight grip on the handle of her knife. As soon as the guards turned the far corner Richard grabbed her hand and pulled her after him into the hallway.

Down another dark corridor he came to an abrupt halt before a heavy door. The hasp had a lock in it.

Richard, his sword already in his hand, slipped the blade through the bar. Pressing his lips tight, he strained to twist the sword. With a muffled metallic pop the lock broke. Pieces of steel bounced across the stone floor. Kahlan winced at the sound, sure that it would bring guards running. They heard nothing.

Richard slipped in through the doorway.

“Zedd!” she heard him call in a loud whisper.

Kahlan stuck her head into the room. There were three people inside the small stone cell: an old man with disheveled white hair, a big blond-headed man, and a woman with her blond hair in the single braid of a Mord-Sith.

“Richard!” the old man shouted. “Dear spirits—you’re alive!”

Richard crossed his lips with a finger as he pulled Kahlan in behind him. He quietly shut the door. The three people looked tired and bedraggled. It looked to have been a harsh confinement.

“Keep your voice down,” Richard whispered. “There are guards all over this place.”

“How in the world did you know we were here?” the old man asked.

“I didn’t,” Richard said.

“Well, I can tell you, my boy, that we have a great many things to—”

“Zedd, be quiet and listen to me.”

The old man’s mouth snapped shut. Then he pointed. “How did you get your sword back?”

“Kahlan gave it back to me.”

Zedd’s bushy brow drew down. “You saw her?”

Richard nodded. He held out his sword. “Put your hand around the hilt.”

Zedd’s frown grew. “Why? Richard, there are a great many more important—”

“Do it!” Richard growled.

Zedd blinked at the command. He straightened and he did as Richard had told him to do.

Zedd’s gaze shot to Kahlan. A light seemed to come on in his hazel eyes as they went wide.

“Dear spirits . . . Kahlan.”

As Zedd stood frozen in shock, Richard held the sword out to the woman. She touched the handle. Recognition dawned in her eyes as she stared at Kahlan, who had just suddenly seemed to magically appear before her. The big man, when he touched the hilt, was no less astonished.

“I know you,” Zedd said to her. “I can see you.”

“Do you remember me?” Kahlan asked.

Zedd shook his head. “No. The sword must interrupt the ongoing nature of the Chainfire event. It can’t restore my lost memory—that’s gone—but it stops the ongoing effect. I can see you. I recognize who you are. I don’t recall you, but I know you. It’s rather like seeing a face you know but not being able to place it.”

“Same with me,” the big man said.

The woman nodded her agreement.

Zedd grabbed Richard’s sleeve. “We have to get out of here. Six will be back. We dare not get caught here and have to tangle with her. She’s more than a handful.”

Richard started across the room. “I have to get something first.”

“The book?” Zedd asked.

Richard stopped and turned back. “You saw it?”

“I should say I did. Where in the world did you ever come across such a thing?”

Richard climbed up on the chair and pulled down a pack stuffed up behind a beam. “First Wizard Baraccus—”

“From the great war? That Baraccus?”

“That’s right.” Richard hopped down from the chair. “He wrote the book and then had it hidden for me to find. He is responsible for me being born with both sides of the gift, so he wanted to help me with my abilities. He had his wife, Magda Searus, hide it after he came back from the Temple of the Winds. It’s a long story, but the book has been waiting for me for three thousand years.”

Zedd appeared dumbfounded. They gathered around the table as Richard dug around in the pack until he found the book and pulled it out. He held up the book for Zedd to see.

“The problem was, at the time I was cut off from my gift, so I couldn’t read it. It just looked like blank pages. I don’t know what Baraccus wanted to tell me about my ability.”

Zedd shared a look with the other two captives. “Richard, I need to talk to you about what Baraccus left for you.”

“Yes, in a moment.”

A frown grew on Richard’s face as he thumbed through the book. “It’s still blank.” He looked up in confusion. “Zedd, it’s still blank. The block on my gift was broken—I know it was. Why would this still appear blank to me?”

Zedd laid a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Because it is blank.”

“To me. But you can read it.” He held the book open before the old man. “What does it say?”

“It’s blank,” Zedd repeated. “There is no writing at all in the book—only the title on the cover.”

Richard puzzled at the old man. “What do you mean it’s blank? It can’t be blank. It’s supposed to be the Secrets of a War Wizard’s Power!”

“It is,” Zedd said in a grave tone.

Richard looked heartbroken, angry, and puzzled all at once. “I don’t understand.”

“Wizard Baraccus left you a wizard’s rule.”

“What wizard’s rule?”

“The rule of all rules. The rule unwritten. The rule unspoken since the dawn of history.”

Richard ran his fingers back through his hair. “We don’t have time for riddles. What did he want me to know? What is the rule!”

Zedd shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s never been spoken, and has never been written.

“But Baraccus wanted you to know that it’s the secret to using a war wizard’s power. The only way to express it, to make sure that you would grasp what he was intending to tell you, was to give you a book unwritten to signify the rule unwritten.”

“How am I supposed to use it if I don’t know what it is?”

“That’s a question for yourself, Richard. If you are the one Baraccus thought you were, then you will know how to use what he left for you. He obviously thought it was exceptionally important and worth all the trouble he went to, so I would say that it must be what you need.”

Richard took a deep breath to steady himself. Kahlan felt so sorry for him. He looked at his wits’ end. He looked on the verge of tears.

“My, my, my,” came a voice from behind.

They all spun around.

A reed-thin woman in black smiled a sly smile. Her hair was a tangled nest of black. Her bloodless flesh and blanched eyes made her look ca­daverous.

“Six . . .” Zedd said.

“What do you know, if it isn’t the Mother Confessor. And won’t the em­peror be pleased when I bring him Lord Rahl as well, all tied up in a nice bundle.”

Kahlan saw Zedd press his hands to his head, in obvious pain. He stag­gered back and crumpled to the ground. Richard’s sword made a ringing sound as he drew it. He charged the woman but was stopped short and driven back by forces Kahlan couldn’t see. His sword clattered across the stone floor.

The woman held out a thin finger toward Kahlan. “Not a good idea, Mother Confessor. Not that I care if you fry your own brain trying to turn mine to mush, but you are much more valuable to me alive.”

Kahlan felt the pain of the unseen power forcing her back, just as Richard had been forced back. The debilitating agony was something like the pain from the collar, but sharper, deeper down in her ears. It made the back of her jaw hurt so much that she had to open her mouth. All five of them were cringing back, holding their ears with the pain of it.

“This is going to make things so much easier,” Six said in a self-satisfied manner as she glided toward them, like death itself.

“Six,” a stern voice called from the doorway.

Six spun to a voice she obviously recognized. The pain lifted from Kahlan’s head. She saw the others recovering as well.

“Mother . . . ?” Six said in emotional confusion.

“You have disappointed me, Six,” the old woman said as she stepped forward into the room. “Disappointed me greatly.”

She was slender, much like Six, but stooped with age. Her black hair flared out from her face in much the same way, but it was streaked with white. Her eyes, too, were a blanched blue.

Six backed up a couple of steps. “But I, I . . .”

“You what?” the old woman demanded in a venomous tone of displea­sure. This woman was a commanding presence who feared nothing, least of all Six.

Six cowered back a step. “I don’t understand . . .”

Kahlan’s jaw dropped as she saw the tight, pale flesh of Six’s face and hands begin to move, as if bubbling from beneath.

Six started screaming in pain, her bony hands groping the crawling flesh of her face.

“Mother, what do you want!”

“It’s quite simple,” the old woman said, stepping closer yet to the witch woman as she shrank away. “I want you to die.”

At that, Six’s whole body jerked about violently as her skin convulsed and churned, looking like it was separating from the turbulent muscle and sinew beneath. She almost looked like she was boiling from within.

The old woman grabbed the suddenly slack skin at the back of Six’s neck. As Six began to crumple downward the old woman gave a mighty pull.

The skin, mostly in one piece, pulled right off the stricken witch woman. She collapsed, a bloody, unrecognizable mess barely contained by the sack of a black dress, to the stone floor. It was about as sickening a sight as Kahlan could imagine.

The old woman, holding the sagging remains of Six’s skin, smiled at them.

They all stood frozen in shock as the old woman seemed to shimmer, her appearance wavering and flickering. Kahlan stared in astonishment. The old woman was no longer old, but young and beautiful, with long, wavy, auburn hair. Her variegated gray dress did little to conceal her sensuous figure. Points of the airy fabric floated as if in a gentle breeze.

“Shota . . .” Richard said, a grin splitting his face.

She dropped the bloody hide in a sloppy pile, then smiled a coy, teasing smile as she stepped forward and tenderly cupped his cheek with her other hand. Kahlan could feel her own face going red.

“Shota, what are you doing here?” Richard asked.

“Saving your hide, obviously.” She smiled even wider as she glanced down to the remains in the black dress. “I guess it cost Six hers.”

“But, but I don’t understand.”

“Neither did Six,” Shota said. “She expected me to scurry away with my tail between my legs to forever hide in trembling fear that she might find me, so she never expected a visit from her mother. Such a thing was not among her otherwise considerable talents, or her limited imagination, since she had no comprehension of the value of a mother and no empathy with those who do. She could not imagine the power and meaning of such a bond, so such a thing blinded her. Her connection to her mother was loathing schooled by fear.”

Kahlan could feel her face heating even more as she watched Shota run a long lacquered fingernail down the front of Richard’s shirt.

“I don’t like it when someone takes what I have worked for and created,” Shota said to Richard in an intimate voice. “She had no right to what is mine. It took me a great deal of time and effort to reverse all that she had done to sink her treacherous tentacles into my domain, but I did.”

“I think there was more to it, Shota. I think you wanted to help us all.”

Shota stepped away, flicking a hand in acknowledgment as she turned her back on Richard. “The boxes are in play. If the Sisters of the Dark open them a great many people who have done no wrong will die. I, too, will be cast to the Keeper like a scrap of meat.”

Richard could only nod at the truth of that. He bent and picked up his sword. He held the hilt out. “Here.”

“My dear boy, I’ve no need for a sword.”

Kahlan didn’t know how anyone could have such a beautiful, silken voice. Shota didn’t act like she even knew that there was anyone else in the room. Except when she cast a brief, warning glare at Zedd, her almond eyes rarely left Richard.

“Just humor me and touch it.”

Her whole face softened with a flirtatious smile. “If you say so.”

Her graceful fingers curled around the hilt. Her eyes suddenly turned to see Kahlan standing right there beside him.

“The sword interrupts the ongoing effect of the Chainfire spell,” Richard explained. “It doesn’t reverse it, but it enables you to now see what is before you.”

Her gaze lingered a moment before returning to Richard. “So it does.” Her voice turned serious. “Right now, though, all of us in this room are about to be taken by the power of Orden and given over for all eternity to the Keeper of the dead in the underworld.” Her fingers touched the side of Richard’s face. “As I’ve told you before, you need to stop that from happening.”

“And how am I to do that?”

Shota gave him a scolding look. “We’ve had this discussion before, Richard. You are the player. It is up to you to put the boxes in play.”

Richard heaved a sigh. “We’re a long way from the boxes. Jagang will have them in play long before we can get back.”

Shota smiled at him. “I have a way for you to get back.”

“How?”

Shota pointed a finger skyward. “You can fly.”

Richard cocked his head. “Fly?”

“The dragon that Six had bewitched and was using is up on the rampart.”

“A dragon!” Zedd exclaimed. “You expect Richard to fly on a dragon? What sort of dragon?”

“An angry one.”

“Angry?” Richard asked.

“I’m afraid that I’m not very good at appearing as a dragon’s mother, but I’ve gentled it.” Shota shrugged. “A little, anyway.”

Richard had them all wait in the hallway as he quickly changed into the things from his pack. When he emerged, Kahlan’s breath was taken by what she saw.

Over a black shirt he wore a black, open-sided tunic decorated with strange symbols snaking along a wide gold band running all the way around its squared edges. A wide, multilayered leather belt bearing more of the emblems cinched the magnificent tunic at his waist. The ancient, tooled-leather baldric holding the gold- and silver-wrought scabbard for the Sword of Truth crossed over his right shoulder. At each wrist was a wide, leather-padded silver band bearing linked rings encompassing more of the strange symbols. Black boots over his black trousers also had pins with yet more of the rounded designs. His broad shoulders bore a cape that appeared to be made of spun gold.

He looked like Kahlan’s idea of what a war wizard should look like. He looked like a commander of kings. He looked like Lord Rahl.

Kahlan had no trouble at all understanding why Nicci was in love with him. She was just about the luckiest woman in the world. She was also a woman worthy of this man.

“Let’s hurry,” he said to Shota.

Shota, strolling at a steady pace down the center of the halls, her filmy gray dress flowing out behind, led them through secondary, unadorned passageways in the castle as if it were deserted. From time to time she waved a hand toward a door or a passageway, as if to ward off anyone from bothering them. That must have been exactly what she was doing, because no one intercepted the small company of people hurrying through the hallways.

They all paused behind the witch woman when she finally stopped at a heavy oak door. She gave them all a look as if to ask if they were ready, then threw open the heavy oak door. When they went through the doorway into the overcast day, Richard’s cape billowed out behind. Out on the rampart they were confronted by a huge beast with glossy red scales and a forest of black-tipped spikes on its back.

Flame roared across the rampart, kicking dirt and gravel in every direction. They all shrank back.

“That’s not Scarlet,” Richard said. “I thought it might be Scarlet.”

“You know a dragon?” Kahlan asked.

“Yes, so do you, but not this one. This one is bigger, and a whole lot meaner-looking.’’

The heat from rolling flames again drove them back. Shota, unconcerned, singing a soft song, casually walked forward. The flames stopped. The dragon brought its head floating downward toward her, tilting it to the side, as if curious. As Shota whispered things Kahlan couldn’t hear, the dragon snorted softly in a contented manner.

Shota, stroking her fingers under the dragon’s chin, turned back to them. “Richard, come speak with this handsome fellow.”

The dragon almost sounded like it was purring at her words.

Richard hurried forward. “I have a dragon friend,” he said up to the beast. “Maybe you know her. Her name is Scarlet.”

The massive creature threw its head back and fired a column of flame skyward. Its spiked tail swished across the rampart, knocking large blocks off the stone wall over the side.

The red head swung back down. The lips drew back in a snarl to reveal wicked-looking fangs.

“Scarlet is my mother,” the dragon growled.

Richard looked pleasantly surprised. “Scarlet is your mother? Are you Gregory?”

The dragon drew closer yet, sniffing at Richard as it frowned. Richard’s cape billowed up with each puff of air.

“Who are you, little man?”

“I’m Richard Rahl. The last time I saw you, you were an egg.” Richard, as if talking to an old friend, made a half circle with his arms. “You were this big.”

“Richard Rahl.” Gregory grinned, its hostility evaporating. “My mother has told me of you.”

Richard laid a hand on Gregory’s snout. His voice turned gentle with concern. “Is she all right? Magic is failing. I’ve been worried how it might harm her.”

Gregory snorted a puff of smoke. “She is very sick. She grows weaker by the day. I am stronger and still able to fly. I bring her food, but the witch woman kept me from being able to do so. I don’t know how to help her. I worry that she will be lost to me.”

Richard nodded sadly. “It’s the taint caused by the chimes having been in this world. That taint is destroying all magic.”

Gregory nodded his huge head. “Then the red dragons are doomed.”

“As are we all. Unless I can stop that taint.”

The big head cocked to the side so that Gregory could peer at Richard with one yellow eye. “You can do that?”

“Possibly, but I’m not sure how, yet. I do know that I need to get to the People’s Palace if I am to try.”

“The People’s Palace? Where the dark army waits?”

Richard nodded. “That’s right. I may be the only one who can stop that taint. Will you take us there?”

“I am free, now. A free dragon does not serve man.”

“I’m not asking you to be my servant, only to fly us to D’Hara so that I can try to save all of us who want to live free, including you and your mother.”

Gregory’s head glided closer to Zedd, Tom, and Rikka. He thought it over briefly, looking back at Richard.

“All of you?”

“All of us,” Richard said. “I need the help of my friends, here. It’s our only chance to stop all the terrible things that are about to happen.”

Gregory’s head came down close until his snout nudged Richard’s chest, pushing him back a half step. “My mother told me the story of how you saved me when I was but an egg. If I do this, we will be even.”

“Even,” Richard agreed.

Gregory lowered his body down onto the rampart as much as possible. “Let us be off, then.”

Richard told the rest of them how to get up and how to hold on to the spikes and projections. He went up first, settling himself astride the dragon’s back at the base of its long neck, then helped pull Zedd, Tom, and Rikka up behind him. Zedd muttered under his breath the whole time. Richard told him to stop cursing.

Kahlan was last. Richard leaned down, took her hand, and pulled her up behind him. As she adjusted herself on the dragon’s back behind him, she saw him pull a white cloth out of his pocket, looking at it.

Kahlan, her arms around him, whispered in his ear. “I’m afraid.”

He smiled over his shoulder. “You get dizzy flying on dragons, but you don’t get sick. Just hold on tight and close your eyes if you want.”

It struck her how easy it was being close to him, and how gentle and natural he was with her. He seemed to come alive when she was near him.

“What’s that you have?” she asked, tilting her head toward the white cloth. It had an ink spot on one side and another just like it on the opposite side.

“Something from before,” he said in a distracted sort of way. He was obviously not thinking about her question. He was thinking about the white cloth with the two ink spots.

He stuffed the cloth back in his pocket and looked down at the rampart. “Shota, are you coming?”

“No. I’m returning to Agaden Reach, to my home. I will wait there for the end, or for you to stop that end from coming.”

Richard nodded. Kahlan didn’t think that he looked at all confident. “Thank you for all you’ve done, Shota.”

“Make me proud, Richard.”

He smiled at her briefly. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all any of us can do,” she said.

Richard patted the dragon’s glossy red scales. “Gregory, let’s get going. We don’t have much time.”

Gregory let out a brief blast of flame. As it curled away into black smoke, the dragon’s immense wings lifted and then snapped down with tremendous yet graceful force. Kahlan felt them lift into the air. It felt like her stomach turned upside down.