Faith of the Fallen

Chapter 27

Kahlan yawned as she rubbed her eyes. Squinting, she arched her back and stretched her sore muscles. The terrible desperate memories swooped in from the sleep-darkened corners of her mind, leaving little chance for any other thoughts to long survive.

She was beyond the realm of merciless anguish and crying; she had entered the sovereign dominion of unbridled anger.

Her fingers found the cold steel scabbard of his sword lying at her side. It felt alive with icy rage. That, the carving of Spirit, and her memories were about all she had of him.

There wasn’t a lot of firewood, but since they wouldn’t be needing much more anyway, Kahlan put another stick of what was left into the fire. She squatted, holding her hands close over the top of the feeble flames, hoping to bring feeling to her numb fingers. The wind shifted a little. Pungent smoke billowed up into her face, making her cough. The smoke rolled past her face and followed the rock overhang up and out from their shelter.

Cara was gone, so Kahlan pushed the little pot of water back onto the fire to warn it for tea for when the Mord-Sith returned. Cara was probably visiting their makeshift privy. Or maybe she was checking the traps they’d set the night before for rabbits. Kahlan didn’t hold out any real hope that they would catch a rabbit for their breakfast. Not in this weather. They had brought enough provisions, in any event.

Through slits in the clouds, the crimson light of a cold crisp dawn penetrated gaps in the snowcrusted limbs of trees to slant in under the rock overhang, casting everything in their little campsite in a blush glow. The two of them had tried without avail to find a wayward pine. The screen of trees, along with a short wall of boughs she and Cara had cut and placed the night before to protect them from the wind, as Richard had taught them to do, shielded the secluded spot. With their improvements it had proven a fit shelter. They had been lucky to find it in the driving snow. Outside, the snow was fairly deep, but in the shelter they had had a relatively dry, if cold, night. Kahlan and Cara had huddled together under blankets and their thick wolf fur mantles to keep each other warm.

Kahlan wondered where Richard was, and if he was cold, too. She hoped not. Probably, since he had started out a few days sooner, he had been lucky and had made it down to the lowlands already, avoiding the snow.

Cara and Kahlan had stayed in their home, as he had asked, for three days. Snow had arrived the morning after he’d left. Kahlan had been tempted to wait for a break in the weather before they started out, but she had learned a bitter lesson from Sister Nicci: don’t wait, act. When Richard didn’t return, Kahlan and Cara had immediately struck out.

It was hard going at first. They struggled through the drifts, leading the horses at times, riding them occasionally. They couldn’t see very far, and most of the time had to keep the wind from the west at their right shoulder as their only clue as to which direction they faced. It was dangerous traveling over the passes in such conditions. For a time, they feared that they had made a terrible mistake leaving the safety of their house.

Through a break in the clouds just before dark the night before, as they were gathering boughs for their shelter, they’d caught a glimpse of the lower hills; they were green and brown, not white. They would be below the snow line before long. Kahlan was confident that they were through the worst of it.

As she stuffed an arm into a sleeve, pulling another shirt on over the top of the two she was wearing, Kahlan heard the crunch of snow underfoot.

When she realized it was more than one pair of footsteps, she stood up in a rush.

Cara pushed her way through the boughs of the sheltering trees. “We have company,” she announced in a grim voice. Kahlan saw that Cara’s fist held her Agiel.

A bundled up squat woman came through the trees, following in Cara’s footsteps. Under layers of cloaks, scarves, and other dangling corners of thick cloth, Kahlan was surprised to recognize Ann, the old Prelate of the Sisters of the Light.

Behind Ann came a taller woman, her scarves pushed back to reveal graying brown hair loose to her shoulders. She had an intense, steady, calculating gaze that had earned her an enduring network of fine wrinkles radiating out from the corners of her deep-set eyes. Her brow was less steady, twitching down several times toward her prominent nose. She looked like a woman who used a switch to teach children.

“Kahlan!” Ann rushed forward, seizing Kahlan’s arms. “Oh, my dear, it’s so good to see you!” She looked back when Kahlan glanced up behind her.

“This is one of my Sisters, Alessandra. Alessandra, may I introduce the Mother Confessor—and Richard’s wife.”

The woman stepped forward and smiled. The pleasant grin completely altered her face, instantly erasing the severity of it with open good nature. It was a somewhat disorienting transformation, making her seem like two different people sharing one face. Or, Kahlan thought, perhaps one person with two faces.

“Mother Confessor, it’s so good to meet you. Ann has told me all about you, and what a wonderful person you are.” Her eyes took in the campsite with a quick glance. “I’m so happy for you and Richard.”

Ann’s eyes turned left and right, searching. Her gaze snagged on the sword.

“Where’s Richard? Cara wouldn’t say a word.” She looked up into Kahlan’s eyes. “Dear Creator,” she whispered. “What’s wrong? What’s happened? Where’s Richard?”

Kahlan finally managed to unclench her teeth. “One of your Sisters took him.”

Ann pushed her scarves back off her gray hair and took ahold of Kahlan’s arm again. The top of Ann’s head came up only to Kahlan’s chest, but she looked at least twice as wide.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean, a Sister took him? Which Sister?”

“Nicci,” Kahlan growled.

Ann pulled back. “Nicci . . .”

Sister Alessandra gasped. “Sister Nicci?” She crossed both hands over her heart. “Sister Nicci isn’t one of Ann’s. Nicci is a Sister of the Dark.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” Kahlan said.

“We have to go get him back,” Ann said. “At once. He’s not safe with her.”

“There’s no telling what Nicci might—” Sister Alessandra’s mouth snapped shut.

The wind carried a sparkling gust into their faces, momentarily whiting out the red dawn. Kahlan blinked the snow away. Cara, in her red leather with both a cloak and her heavy fur mantle over top, ignored it. The other two women brushed their heavy woolen mittens across their eyes.

“Kahlan, everything will be all right,” Ann said in a reassuring voice. “Tell us, now, what’s happened? Tell us everything. Is he hurt?”

Kahlan swallowed against her rising rage. “Nicci used what she called a maternity spell on me.”

Ann’s mouth fell open. Sister Alessandra gasped again.

“Are you sure?” Ann asked in a careful tone. “Are you sure that was what it was? How do you know for sure?”

“She slammed some kind of magic into me. I’ve never heard of such a spell. All I know is that it was definitely powerful magic and she said it was called a maternity spell. She said that it connects us, somehow, through that magic.”

Alessandra took a step forward. “That doesn’t make it a maternity spell.”

“When Cara used her Agiel on Nicci,” Kahlan said, “it dropped me to my knees just the same as if Cara had used the Agiel on me.”

Ann and Alessandra shared a silent look.

“But . . . but, if she were to . . .” Ann stammered.

Kahlan voiced what Ann was trying to say without saying it. “If she were to desire it, Nicci could snip that cord of magic, and I would die. That was the means by which she captured Richard. She promised I would live if Richard went with her. Richard surrendered himself into slavery to save my life.”

“It can’t be,” Ann said, touching mitten-covered fingers to her chin. “Nicci wouldn’t know how to use such an unusual spell—she’s too young. Besides, such a rare spell requires great power. She must have done something else and just said that it was a maternity spell. Nicci couldn’t do a maternity spell.”

“Yes, she could,” Sister Alessandra said in reluctant disagreement. “She has the power and ability. It would only have required someone with the specialized knowledge teaching her. Nicci doesn’t have any great passion for magic, but she is as able as they come.”

“Lidmila . . .” Ann whispered to Alessandra in sudden realization. “Jagang has Lidmila.”

Kahlan turned a suspicious glare on Sister Alessandra. “And how do you know so much more about Nicci’s ability than the Prelate herself?”

Sister Alessandra gathered her open cloak back together. Her face lost its warmth and reverted to a scowl—this time, though, with bitterness in the set of her mouth.

“I brought Nicci in to the Palace of the Prophets when she was but a child. I was responsible for her upbringing, and I guided her training in the use of her gift; I know her better than anyone. I know her darker powers because I, too, was a Sister of the Dark. I’m the one who brought her to the Keeper.”

Kahlan could feel herself rocking with the force of her hammering heart. “So, you, too, are a Sister of the Dark.”

“Was,” Ann said, lifting a cautionary hand before Kahlan.

“The Prelate came into Jagang’s camp and rescued me. Not just from Jagang, but from the Keeper, too. I once again serve the Light.” The incandescent smile again transformed Alessandra’s face. “Ann brought me back to the Creator.”

As far as Kahlan was concerned, the claim was not worth the effort of confirmation. “How did you find us?”

Ann ignored the terse question. “We must hurry. We must get Richard away from Nicci before she delivers him to Jagang.”

Kahlan kept her glare on Alessandra while she answered Ann. “She isn’t taking him to Jagang. She said she isn’t acting on behalf of His Excellency, but on behalf of herself. Those were her words. She said she had removed Jagang’s ring from her lip and that she wasn’t afraid of him.”

“Did she say why, then, she was taking Richard?” Ann asked. “Or, at least, where?”

Kahlan moved her scrutiny back to Ann. “She said she was taking him into oblivion.”

“Oblivion!” Ann gasped.

“I asked you a question,” Kahlan said, anger seeping into her voice. “How did you find us?”

Ann tapped her waist. “I have a journey book. I used it to communicate with Verna, back with our forces. Verna told me about the messengers coming to see you. That’s how I knew where to find you. Lucky I came as soon as I did; we nearly missed you. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you have recovered, Kahlan. We were so worried.”

Kahlan saw that Cara, standing behind the two women, still had her Agiel clenched in her fist. Kahlan didn’t need an Agiel; her Confessor’s power boiled but an impulse away. She wouldn’t again make an error for the sake of caution.

“The journey book. Of course. Then Verna would have told you about Richard’s vision that he must not lead our troops against the Order.”

Ann nodded reluctantly, apparently not eager to discuss such a vision.

“Then, a few days ago, Verna sent a message when we were almost here, that the D’Harans are in quite a state because they suddenly lost their sense of direction to Richard. She said they are still protected from the dream walker by the bond to their Lord Rahl, but they suddenly lost their sense of where he is.”

“Nicci cloaked his bond from us,” Cara said in a growl.

“Well, we have to find him,” Ann said. “We have to get him away from Nicci. He’s our only chance. Whatever he’s thinking, it’s nonsense and we will have to set him straight, but first we must get him back. He has to lead our forces against the Imperial Order. He is the one named in prophecy.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Kahlan whispered to herself. “You heard from Verna about his declining to lead the army or even to give orders. You journeyed here in hopes of forcing him to fight.”

“He must,” Ann insisted.

“He must not,” Kahlan said. “He has come to realize that if he leads us into battle, we will lose the cause of liberty for generations to come. He said he came to realize that people don’t yet understand freedom and won’t fight for it.”

“He must simply prove himself to the people.” Ann’s scowl reddened. “He must prove himself their leader, which he has already begun to do, and they will follow him.”

“Richard says that he has come to understand that it is not he who must prove himself to the people, but the people who must now prove themselves to him.”

Ann blinked in astonishment. “Why, that’s nonsense.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is. The boy was named in prophecy centuries ago. I’ve been waiting hundreds of years for him to be born in order for him to lead us in this struggle.”

“Really. Then who are you to try to countermand Richard’s decision—if you are so set on following him? He has come to his decision. If he is the leader you want, then you must abide by his lead, and therefore his decision.”

“But this is not what prophecy demands!”

“Richard doesn’t believe in prophecy. He believes we make our own destiny. I’m coming to see the grounds of his assertion that the belief in prophecy artificially alters events. It is the misplaced faith in prophecy itself—in some mystical outcome—that harms people’s lives.”

Ann’s eyes grew round with dismay, and then narrowed. “Richard is the one named in prophecy to lead us against the Imperial Order. This is a struggle for the very existence of magic in this world—don’t you understand that! Richard was born to fight this fight. We have to get him back!”

“This is all your fault,” Kahlan whispered.

“What?” Ann’s frown changed to a tolerant smile. “Kahlan, what are you talking about?” Her voice backslid to genial. “You know me, you know our struggle for the survival of freedom of magic. If Richard does not lead us, we have no chance.”

Kahlan threw her arm out and seized a startled Sister Alessandra by the throat. The woman’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t move,” Kahlan said through gritted teeth, “or I will unleash my Confessor’s power.”

Ann held her hands up, imploring. “Kahlan, have you lost your mind? Let her be. Calm down.”

With her other hand, Kahlan pointed down at the fire. “The journey book. Throw it in the fire.”

“What? I’m not going to do any such thing!”

“Now,” Kahlan said through her clenched teeth. “Or Sister Alessandra will be mine. When I finish with her, Cara will see to it you throw that journey book in the fire, if you have to do so with broken fingers.”

Ann glanced at the Mord-Sith towering over her shoulder.

“Kahlan, I know you’re upset, and I completely understand, but we’re on the same side in this. We love Richard, too. We, too, wish to stop the Imperial Order from taking the whole world. We—”

“We? If it wasn’t for you and your Sisters, none of this would be happening. This is all your fault. Not Jagang’s fault, not the Imperial Order’s fault, but yours.”

“Have you lost your—”

“You alone bear responsibility for what is befalling the world. Just as Jagang has his ring through the lip of his slaves, you’ve had yours through the nose of yours—Richard! You alone bear responsibility for the lives already lost, and those yet to be lost in bloody slaughters that will sweep across the land. You, not Jagang, are the one who has brought it!”

Despite the cold, beads of sweat dotted Ann’s brow. “What in the name of Creation are you talking about? Kahlan, you know me. I was at your wedding. I have always been on your side. I have only followed the prophecies to help people.”

“You create the prophecies! Without your help they would not have come to pass! They only come about because you have fulfilled them! You pull the ring through Richard’s nose!”

Ann presented a face of calm to the stone of Kahlan’s rage.

“Kahlan, I can only imagine how you must feel, but now you are truly losing all sense of reason.”

“Am I? Am I, Prelate? Why does Sister Nicci have my husband? Answer me. Why!”

Ann’s expression drew tight in a darkening glower. “Because she is evil.”

“No.” Kahlan’s grip tightened on Alessandra’s throat. “It’s because of you. Had you not sent Verna into the New World in the first place, ordering her to take Richard back across the barrier into the Old World—”

“But the prophecies say the Order will rise up to take the world and extinguish magic if we fail to stop them! The prophecies say Richard is the only one to lead us! That Richard is the only one with a chance!”

“And you brought that dead prophecy to life. All by yourself. All because of your faith in bloodless words rather than your own reasoned choices. You’re here today not to back the choices of your proclaimed leader, not to reason with him but to enforce prophecy upon him—to give that ring a tug. Had you not sent Verna to recover Richard, what would have happened, Prelate?”

“Why, why, the Order—”

“The Order? The Order would still be trapped back in the Old World, behind the barrier. Wouldn’t they! For three thousand years that wizard-created barrier has stood invincible against the pressure of the Order—or those like them—and their wish to swarm up here into the New World, bent on conquest.

“Because you had Richard captured, against his will, and ordered him brought back to the Old World, all in slavish homage to dead words in dusty old books, he was forced to destroy the barrier, and thus the Order now can flood into the New World, into the Midlands, my Midlands, slaughtering my people, taking my husband, all because of you and your meddling!

“Without you, none of this would be happening! No war, no mounds of butchered people in cities of the New World, no thousands of dead men, women, and children slaughtered at the hands of Imperial Order thugs—none of it!

“Because of you and your precious prophecies, the veil was breached and a plague was unleashed on the world. It would never have happened without your actions to ‘save’ us all from prophecy. I don’t even dare to recall all the children I saw suffering and dying from the black death because of you. Children who looked up into my eyes and asked if they would be all right, and I had to say yes when I knew they would not survive the night.

“No one will ever know the tally of the dead. No one is left to remember all the small places wiped out of existence by that plague. Without your meddling, those children would be alive, their mothers would be smiling to themselves as they watched them play, their fathers would be teaching them the ways of the world—a world denied them by you for the sake of your faith in prophecy!

“You say this is a battle for the very existence of magic in this world—yet your work to fulfill prophecy may have already doomed magic. Without your intervention, the chimes would never have come to be loosed upon the world. Yes, Richard managed to banish them, but what irreversible harm was done? We may have our power back, bent during the time the chimes withdrew magic from this world, creatures of magic, things dependent on magic for their very existence, surely died out. Magic requires balance to exist. The balance of magic in this world was disturbed. The irrevocable destruction of magic may have already begun. All because of your slavish service to prophecy.

“If not for you, Prelate, Jagang, the Imperial Order’s army, and all your Sisters would be back there, behind the barrier, and we would be here, safe and at peace. You cast blame everywhere but where it belongs. If freedom, if magic, if the world itself is destroyed, it will all be by your hand, Prelate.”

The low moan of the wind was the only sound and made the sudden silence all that much more agonizing. Ann stared with tear-filled eyes up at Kahlan.

Snow sparkled in the rays of a cold dawn.

“It isn’t like that, Kahlan. It only seems that way to you in your pain.”

“It is that way,” Kahlan said with finality.

Ann’s mouth worked, but this time no words came out.

Kahlan thrust out her hand, palm up.

“The journey book. If you think I would not destroy this woman’s life, then you don’t know the first thing about me. She’s one of your Sisters, helping to destroy the world in the name of good, or else she is still one of the Keeper’s Sisters, helping to destroy the world in the name of death. Either way, if you don’t give me the journey book, and right now, her life is forfeit.”

“What do you think this will accomplish?” Ann whispered in despair.

“It will be a start at halting your meddling in the lives of the people of the Midlands, and the rest of the New World—in my life, in Richard’s life. It’s the only beginning I can think to make, short of killing you both; you would not like to know how close I am to that alternative. Now, give me the journey book.”

Ann stared down at Kahlan’s hand open before her. She blinked at her tears. Finally, she pulled off a woolen mitten and worked the little book out from behind her belt. She paused a moment, reverently gazing at it, but in the end laid it on Kahlan’s palm.

“Dear Creator,” Ann whispered, “forgive this poor hurting child of yours for what she is about to do.”

Kahlan tossed the book in the fire.

With ashen faces, Ann and Sister Alessandra stood staring at the book in the hissing flames.

Kahlan snatched up Richard’s sword. “Cara, let’s get going.”

“The horses are ready. I was saddling them when these two showed up.”

Kahlan dumped the hot water to the side while Cara started quickly collecting their belongings. They both stuffed items in the saddlebags.

Other gear they slung over their shoulders and carried to the horses to be strapped back on the saddles.

Without looking back at Ann or Alessandra, Kahlan swung up into her cold saddle. With a grim Cara at her side, she turned her mount and cantered off into the swirling snow.