Faith of the Fallen

Chapter 22

As she watched Nicci turn her dappled mare toward the pass and the distant blue mountains beyond, Kahlan was still struggling to overcome her dizziness from what the woman had done to her. Off near the distant trees, a doe and her nearly grown fawn, two of the small herd of deer that frequented the meadow, stood at alert, their ears perked, watching Nicci, waiting to see if she might be a threat. Spooked by what they saw when Nicci turned their way, both deer flicked their tails straight up and bounded for the trees.

Kahlan refused to allow herself to give in to the disorientation. But for Richard’s iron arms around her waist, she would have thrown herself at the Sister of the Dark. Kahlan had desperately wanted to unleash her Confessor’s power. No one had ever deserved it more.

Had her senses not still been floundering in a daze, she might have been able to invoke her power through the Con Dar, the Blood Rage of an ancient ability she possessed. Such rare magic would have bridged the relatively small distance, but, reeling from the lingering force of Nicci’s conjuring, the attempt had been futile. It was all Kahlan could do to keep her feet under her and her last meal in her stomach.

It was frustrating, infuriating, and humiliating, but Nicci had surprised her and with magic as swift as Kahlan’s Confessor’s power had taken her before she could react. Once Nicci’s talons clutched her, Kahlan had been powerless.

She had grown up being trained not to be taken by surprise. Confessors were always targets; she knew better. Any number of times in similar situations she had prevailed. Lulled by months of tranquillity, Kahlan had lost her edge. She vowed never to let it happen again, but that would do her no good now.

She could still feel Nicci’s vital magic sizzling through her, as if her soul itself had been scorched in the heat of the ordeal. Her insides roiled as waves of the onslaught had yet to settle down. The cold air rushing across the meadow, bending the brown grass, swept up to chill her burning face. The wind carried an unfamiliar scent into the valley, something that her jumbled senses perceived as vaguely portentous. The big pines behind the house bowed and twisted but stood tall as the wind broke against them with a sound not unlike waves rushing against stone cliffs.

Whatever sort of magic had been unleashed in her, Kahlan was convinced Nicci had told the truth about its consequence. Despite how much she hated the woman, because of the maternity spell Kahlan felt a connection to her, a connection that she could only interpret as . . . affection. It was a bewildering sensation. While positively disturbing, it was also, in a way, a comforting connection to the woman beyond her vile magic and twisted purpose. There seemed to be something deep within Nicci worth loving.

Regardless of Kahlan’s far-fetched feelings, her perception and reasoning told her the truth of the matter: such impressions were illusion. If she got the opportunity, she would not again hesitate for an instant to kill Nicci.

“Cara,” Richard said, glaring at Nicci’s back as she walked her horse across the meadow, “I don’t want you even thinking about trying to stop her.”

“I’m not going to allow—”

“I mean it. I mean it more than any order I’ve ever given you. If you ever brought Kahlan to harm in such a way . . . well, I trust you’d never do such an evil thing to me. Why don’t you go get dressed.”

Cara growled a curse under her breath. Richard turned to Kahlan as the Mord-Sith marched off into the house. Kahlan only then really noticed that Cara was naked. She must have been interrupted in her bath. The magic Nicci used had fogged Kahlan’s mind, blurring her memory of recent events.

Kahlan did recall quite clearly, though, the feel of the Agiel. The shattering torture of the Mord-Sith’s weapon had spiked through Nicci’s magic like a lance through straw. Even though Cara had used her Agiel on Nicci, Kahlan felt it as if it had been used directly against the side of her own neck.

Kahlan gently touched Richard’s jaw in sympathy, then took hold of his upper arms instead when he gave her a look that suggested no need for sympathy. His big hands closed on her waist. She stepped into his embrace and rested her forehead against his cheek.

“This can’t be,” she whispered. “It just can’t.”

“But it is.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“That I let her take me by surprise.” Kahlan trembled with anger at herself. “I should have been alert. If I’d done as I should have, and killed her first, it would never have come to this.”

Richard ran a hand gently down the back of her head, holding her to his shoulder.

“Remember how you killed me in a sword fight the other day?” She nodded against him. “We all make mistakes, get caught off guard. Don’t blame yourself. No one is perfect. It could even be that she cast a web of magic to dull your awareness so she could slip up to you like . . . like some silent unseen mosquito.”

Kahlan had never considered that. Caught off guard or not, though, it made her furious with herself. If only she had not been paying attention to the stupid chipmunk. If only she had looked up sooner. If only she had acted without waiting a split second to analyze the true nature of the threat to decide if it warranted the unleashing of her devastating magic.

Almost from birth, Kahlan had been instructed in the use of her power, with the mandate of unleashing it only upon being certain of the need. Much like killing, a Confessor’s power was the destruction of who a person was.

Afterward, the person acted exclusively on behalf of the Confessor, and at the direction of the Confessor. It was as final as death.

Kahlan looked up into Richard’s gray eyes. They looked all the more gray with the gray sky behind him.

“My life is a precious and sacred thing to me,” she said. “Yours is no less to you. Don’t throw yours away to be a slave to mine. I couldn’t stand it.”

“It’s not come to that yet. I’ll figure something out. But for now, I have to go with her.”

“We’ll follow, but stay well back.”

He was already shaking his head.

“But, she won’t even be aware—”

“No. For all we know, she could have others with her. They could be waiting to catch you if you follow. I couldn’t bear the thought of knowing that at any moment she could use magic or somehow find out you were following. If that happened, you would die for nothing.”

“You mean you think she could . . . hurt you to make you tell her I planned to follow.”

“Let’s not let our imaginations get the better of us.”

“But I should be close, for when you make a move—for when you figure a way to stop her.”

Richard cupped her face tenderly in his hands. He had a strange look in his eyes, a look she didn’t like.

“Listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on, but you mustn’t die just to free me.”

Tears of desperation stung her eyes. She blinked them away. She fought to keep her voice from becoming a wail.

“Don’t go, Richard. I don’t care what it means for me, as long as you can be free. I would die happy if doing so would keep you from the enemy’s cruel hands. I can’t allow the Order to have you. I can’t allow you to endure the slow grinding death of a slave in exchange for my life. I can’t allow them to—”

She bit off the words of what she feared most; she couldn’t bear the thought of him being tortured. It made her even more dizzy and sick to think of him being maimed and mutilated, of him suffering all alone and forgotten in some distant stinking dungeon with no hope of help.

But Nicci said they wouldn’t. Kahlan told herself that, for her own sanity, she had to believe Nicci’s word.

Kahlan realized Richard was smiling to himself, as if trying to commit to memory every detail of her face while at the same time running a thousand other things through his thoughts.

“There’s no choice,” he whispered. “I must do this.”

She clutched his shirt in her fist. “You’re doing just as Nicci wants—she knows you’ll want to save me. I can’t allow you to make that sacrifice!”

Richard looked up briefly, gazing out at the trees and mountains behind their house, taking it all in, like a condemned man savoring his last meal.

His gaze, more earnest, settled once more on hers.

“Don’t you see? I am making no sacrifice. I am making a fair trade. The reality that you exist is my basis for joy and happiness.

“I make no sacrifice,” he repeated, stressing each word. “To be a slave, even if that is what happens to me, and yet know you’re alive, is my choice over being free in a world in which you don’t exist. I can live with the first. I can’t, with the second. The first is painful, the second unbearable.”

Kahlan beat a fist against his chest. “But you will be a slave or worse and I can’t bear that!”

“Kahlan, listen to me. I will always have freedom in my heart because I understand what it is. Because I do, I can work toward it. I will find a way to be free.

“I cannot find a way to bring you back to life.

“The spirits know that in the past I’ve been willing to forfeit my life for a just cause and if my life would truly make a difference. In the past, I have knowingly imperiled both our lives, been willing to sacrifice both our lives—but not in return for nothing. Don’t you see? This would be a fool’s bargain. I’ll not do it.”

Kahlan pulled her breaths in small gasps, trying to told back the tears as well as her rising sense of panic. “You’re the Seeker. You must find a way to freedom. Of course you will. You will, I know.” She forced a swallow past the constriction in her throat as she tried to reassure Richard, or perhaps herself. “You’ll find a way. I know you will. You’ll find a way and you’ll come back. You did before. You will this time.”

The shadows of Richard’s features seemed dark and severe, cast as they were in a mask of resignation.

“Kahlan, you must be prepared to go on.”

“What do you mean?”

“You must find joy in the fact that I, too, live. You must be prepared to go on with that knowledge and nothing else.”

“What do you mean, nothing else?”

He had a terrible look in his eyes—some kind of sad, grim, tragic acceptance. She didn’t want to look into his eyes, but, standing there with her hand against his chest, feeling the warmth of him, the life within him, she couldn’t make herself look away as he spoke.

“I think it’s different this time.”

Kahlan pulled her hair back when the wind dragged it over her eyes.

“Different?”

“There’s something very different about the feel of this. It doesn’t make sense in the way things in the past have made sense. There’s something deadly serious about Nicci. Something singular. She’s planned this out and she’s prepared to die for it. I can’t lie to you to deceive you. Something tells me that, this time, I may never be able to find a way to come back.”

“Don’t say that.” In weak fingers trembling with dread, Kahlan gathered his dark shirt into a wrinkled knot. “Please don’t say that, Richard. You must try. You must find a way to come back to me.”

“Don’t ever think I won’t be doing my best.” His voice was impassioned, almost to the point of sounding angry. “I swear to you, Kahlan, that as long as there is a breath in my lungs, I’ll never give up; I’ll always try to find a way. But we can’t ignore the possibility just because it’s painful to contemplate: I may never be back.

“You must face the fact that it looks like you must go on without me, but with the knowledge that I’m alive, just as I will have that awareness of you in my heart where no one can touch it. In our hearts, we have each other and always will. That was the oath we swore when we were married—to love and honor each other for all time. This can’t change it. Distance can’t change it. Time can’t change it.”

“Richard . . .” She choked back her wail, but she couldn’t keep the tears from coursing down her face. “I can’t stand the thought of you being a slave because of me. Don’t you see that? Don’t you see what that would do to me? I’ll kill myself if I must so that she can’t do this to you. I must.”

He shook his head, the wind ruffling his hair. “Then I would have no reason to escape her. Nothing to escape for.”

“You won’t need to escape, that’s just it she won’t be able to hold you.”

“She’s a Sister of the Dark.” He threw open his hands. “She will simply use another means I won’t know how to counter—and if you’re dead, I won’t care to.”

“But—”

“Don’t you see?” He seized her by her shoulders. “Kahlan, you must live to give me a reason to try to escape her.”

“Your own life is your reason,” she said. “To be free to help people will be your reason.”

“The people be cursed.” He released her and gestured angrily. “Even people where I grew up turned against us. They tried to murder us. Remember? The lands that have surrendered into the union with D’Hara will likely not remain loyal, either, when they see the reality of the Imperial Order’s army moving up into the Midlands. Eventually, D’Hara will stand alone.

“People don’t understand or value freedom. The way it now stands, they won’t fight for it. They’ve proven it in Anderith, and in Hartland, where I grew up. What more clear evidence could be seen? I hold out no false hope. Most of the rest of the Midlands will quail when it comes time to fight against the Imperial Order. When they see the size of the Order’s army and their brutality with those who resist, they will surrender their freedom.”

He looked away from her, as if regretting his flash of anger in their last moments together. His tall form, so stalwart against the sweep of mountains and sky, sagged a little, seeming to huddle closer to her as if seeking comfort.

“The only thing I have to hope for is to get away so I can come back to you.” His voice had lost all traces of heat as he spoke in a near whisper.

“Kahlan, please don’t take that hope from me—it’s all I have.”

In the distance she could see the fox trotting across the meadow. Its thick, white-tipped tail followed out straight behind as the fox made its inspection for any rodents that might be about. As Kahlan’s gaze tracked its movement, from the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Spirit standing proud and free in the window. How could she lose the man who had carved that for her when she needed it most?

She could, she knew, because now he needed what only she could give him. Looking back up into his intense gray eyes, she realized she could not hope to deny him his earnest plea and only request, not at a time like this.

“All right, Richard. I won’t do anything rash to free you. I’ll wait for you. I’ll endure it.

“I know you. I know you won’t ever give up. You know I expect no less from you. When you get away—and you will—I’ll be waiting for you, and then we’ll be together again. We’ll never be apart in our hearts. As you said, our oath of love is timeless.”

Richard closed his eyes with relief. He tenderly kissed her brow. He lifted her hand from his chest and pressed soft kisses to her knuckles. She saw then how much her pledge meant to him.

Kahlan pulled her hand back and quickly removed her necklace, the one Shota had given her as a wedding gift. It was meant to prevent her from getting pregnant. She turned Richard’s hand over and pushed the necklace into his palm. He frowned in confusion at the small, dark stone hanging from the gold chain draped over his fingers.

“What’s this about?”

“I want you to take it.” Kahlan cleared her throat to keep her voice.

She could only manage a whisper. “I know what she wants of you—what she will make you do.”

“No, that’s not what . . .” He shook his head. He said, “I’m not taking this,” as if turning it away would somehow deny the possibility.

Kahlan put her hand to the side of his face. His face wavered before her in a watery blur.

“Please, Richard. Please take it. For me. I couldn’t bear the thought of another woman having your child.” Or even the thought of the attempt at its creation—but she didn’t say that part of it. “Especially not after mine . . .”

He looked away from her eyes. “Kahlan . . .” Words failed him.

“Just do it for me. Take it. Please, Richard. I’m doing as you ask and will endure your captivity; please honor my request in return. I couldn’t stand the thought of that bewitching blond beast having your child—the child that should be mine. Don’t you see? How could I ever love something I hated? And how could I ever hate something that was part of you? Please, Richard, don’t let it come to that.”

The cold wind lifted and twisted her hair. Her whole life, it seemed, was twisting out of her control. She could hardly believe that this place of such joy, peace, and redemption, a place where she had come to live again, could be a place where it would all be taken away.

Richard held the necklace out to her, as if it were a thing that might bite him. The dark stone swung under his fingers, gleaming in the gloom.

“Kahlan, I don’t think that’s what this is about. I really don’t. But anyway, she could simply refuse to wear it and threaten your life if I didn’t . . .”

Kahlan pulled the gold chain from his fingers and laid it all in a small neat mound in his palm. The dark stone glimmered from its imprisonment behind the veil of tiny gold links. She closed his fingers around the necklace and held his fist shut with both of her hands.

“You’re the one who demands we not ignore those things that are painful to contemplate.”

“But if she refuses . . .”

Kahlan gripped his fist tighter in her trembling fingers. “If it comes to a time when she makes that demand of you, you must convince her to wear the necklace. You must. For me. It’s bad enough for me to think she might take my love, my husband, from me like that, but to also fear . . .”

His big hand felt so warm and familiar and comforting to her. Her words came choked with desperate tears. She could do no more than beg. “Please, Richard.”

He pressed his lips tight, then nodded and stuffed the necklace in a pocket. “I don’t believe those are her intentions, but if it should turn out to be so, you have my word: she will wear the necklace.”

Kahlan sagged against him with a sob.

He took her by the arm. “Come on. Hurry. I have to get whatever I need to take. I’ve only got a few minutes, or all this will be for nothing. I can take the shorter trail and still catch up with her at the top of the pass, but I don’t have much time.”