Faith of the Fallen

Chapter 42

Kahlan glanced over her shoulder at the Prelate bent over the map basket in the corner. It had been almost a full phase of the moon since Warren had left on the mission with captains Ryan and Zimmer. Although it was difficult to judge accurately just how long such missions would last, they should have been back by now. Kahlan knew all too well the kind of worry that had to be churning beneath the woman’s no-nonsense exterior.

“Verna,” Kahlan asked as she rubbed her arms, “on your way past, could you throw some more wood on the fire, please?”

Cara hopped down off her stool, where she was perched, watching over Kahlan’s shoulder. “I’ll do it.”

Verna pulled a map free and, on her way back to the table, thanked Cara. “Here it is, Zedd. I think this better shows the area you’re talking about.”

Zedd unfurled the new map over the top of the one already laid out on the table before Kahlan. It was a larger scale, giving a more detailed look at the southern regions of the Midlands.

“Yes,” Zedd drawled as he peered at the new map. “See here?” He tapped the Drun River. “See how narrow the lowlands are down south, through here? That’s what I was talking about. Rough country, with cliffs in places hemming the river. That’s why I don’t think they would try to go up the Drun Valley.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Verna said.

“Besides”—Kahlan waggled a finger over the area to the north on the first map—up this way is mostly only Nicobarese. They are rather isolated, and so a tempting target, but they aren’t a wealthy land. The plunder and trade goods would be slim. The Order has much more opportunity for conquest if they stay over here. Besides, can you see how difficult it would be for them to get their army back over the Rang’Shada mountains, if they went up the Drun? Strategically, it wouldn’t make as much sense for them to go up that way.”

Verna idly twiddled with a button on her blue dress as she studied the map. “Yes . . . I see what you mean.”

“But your point is well taken,” Kahlan said. “It wouldn’t be a bad idea if you sent a Sister or two to watch that area; just because it doesn’t make as much logistic sense, that doesn’t mean Jagang wouldn’t try it. Come spring, he’s bound to move on us. We wouldn’t want to be surprised to find the Imperial Order storming in the back door to Aydindril.”

Cara answered the knock at the door. It was a head scout named Hayes.

Kahlan stood when she saw through the open door and nearby trees that Captain Ryan was also making his way toward the lodge.

Hayes saluted with a fist to his heart.

“Glad to see you back, Corporal Hayes,” Kahlan said.

“Thank you, Mother Confessor. It’s good to be back.”

He looked like he could use a meal. After Captain Ryan rushed in through the door, Cara pushed it shut against the blowing snow. Hayes stepped to the side, out of the way of the captain.

Kahlan was relieved to see the young Galean officer. “How did everything go, Captain? How is everyone?”

He pulled off his scarf and wool hat as he caught his breath; Verna looked to be holding hers.

“Good,” the captain said. “We did well. The Sisters were able to heal some of our wounded. Some needed to be transported for a ways before the Sisters could see to them. That slowed us. We had a few losses, but not as many as we feared. Warren was a great help.”

“Where is Warren?” Zedd asked.

As if bidden by his name, Warren came in through the door, escorted by a swirling gust of snow. Kahlan squinted at the slash of bright light until the door was pushed shut once more. She caught the look on Verna’s face, and recalled how lighthearted she always felt to see Richard back safely when they had been separated. Warren casually kissed Verna on the cheek with a quick peck. Kahlan noticed the look they shared, even if no one else did.

She was happy for them, but still, the reminder was like a jab at the pain of her helpless heartache and worry over Richard.

“Did you tell them?” Warren asked, unbuttoning his cloak.

“No,” Captain Ryan said. “We haven’t had a chance yet.”

Zedd’s brow drew down. “Tell us what?”

Warren heaved a sigh. “Well, Verna’s special glass worked better than we thought it had. We captured several men and questioned them at length. The ones we saw dead in the valley were only the ones who died at first.”

Verna helped Warren shed his heavy, snow-crusted cloak. She put it on the floor by the fire, where Captain Ryan had laid his brown coat to dry.

“It seems,” Warren went on, “that there were a great many—maybe another sixty, seventy thousand—who didn’t go blind, but who lost the sight in one eye, or have impaired vision. The Order couldn’t very well abandon them, because they can still see well enough to stay with the rest, but more important, it’s hoped that maybe those men will heal, and regain full use of their sight—and their ability to fight.”

“Not likely,” Verna said.

“I don’t think so, either,” Warren said, “but that’s what they are thinking, anyway. Another goodly number, maybe twenty five or thirty thousand, are sick—their eyes and noses red and horribly infected.”

Verna nodded. “The glass will do that.”

“Then some more, maybe half that number, are having breathing difficulty.”

“So,” Kahlan said, “with those killed and those injured enough to keep them from being effective fighters, that makes somewhere near one hundred fifty thousand put out of the way by the glass dust. Quite an accomplishment, Verna.”

Verna looked as pleased as Kahlan. “It was worth that horse ride scaring the wits out of me. It wouldn’t have worked had you not thought of doing it that way.”

“What kind of success did you have, Captain?” Cara asked as she came to stand behind Kahlan.

“Captain Zimmer and I had the kind of success we hoped for. I’d guess we took out maybe ten thousand in the time we were down there.”

Zedd let out a slow whistle. “Pretty heavy fighting.”

“Not really. Not the way the Mother Confessor taught us to do it, and not the way Captain Zimmer works, either. Mostly we eliminate the enemy as efficiently as possible, and try to keep from having to fight at all. If you slit a man’s throat in his sleep, you can accomplish a lot more, and you’re less likely to get hurt yourself.”

Kahlan smiled. “I’m glad you were such a good student.”

Captain Ryan lifted a thumb. “Warren and the Sisters were a great help at getting us where we needed to be without being discovered. Any word about the white cloaks, yet? We could really use them. I can tell you for a fact that they would have enabled us to do more.”

“We just got in our first load the day before yesterday,” Kahlan told him. “More than enough for your men and Captain Zimmer’s. We’ll have more within a few days.”

Captain Ryan rubbed his hands, warming his fingers. “Captain Zimmer will be pleased.”

Zedd gestured to the south. “Did you find out why they withdrew so far back over ground they’d taken?”

Warren nodded. “From the men we questioned, we found out that they have fever going through their camp. Nothing we did, just your regular fever that happens in such crowded camp conditions in the field. But they’ve lost tens of thousands of men to the fever. They wanted to withdraw to put some distance between us, give themselves some breathing room. They aren’t concerned about being able to push us out of their way when they wish.”

That made sense. With their numbers, it was only natural for them to be confident, even cavalier, about dealing with any opposition. Kahlan couldn’t understand why Warren and Captain Ryan looked so downhearted. She sensed that, despite their good news, there was something amiss.

“Dear spirits,” Kahlan said, trying to give them some cheer. “Their numbers are dwindling away like snow beside the hearth. This is better than—”

Warren held up a hand. “I asked Hayes, here, to come and give you his report firsthand. I think you had better hear him out.”

Kahlan motioned the man to come forward. He stepped smartly up to her table and snapped to attention.

“Let’s hear what you have to report, Corporal Hayes.”

His face looked chalky, and despite the cold, he was sweating.

“Mother Confessor, my scout team was down to the southeast, watching the routes in from the wilds, and watching, too in case the Order tried to swing wide around us. Well, I guess the short of it is, we spotted a column making its way west to resupply and reinforce the Order.”

“They’re a big army,” Kahlan said. “They would have supplies sent from their homeland to augment what they can get as spoils. A supply column would have men guarding them.”

“I followed them for a week, just to get an accurate count.”

“How many,” Kahlan asked.

“Well over a quarter million, Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan’s flesh tingled as if icy needles were dancing over it.

“How many?” Verna asked.

“At least two hundred and fifty thousand men at arms, plus drivers and civilians with the supplies.”

Everything they had worked for, all the sacrifices, all the struggle to whittle down the Imperial Order, had just been nullified. Worse than nullified, their work had been erased, and nearly that many more had been added to the force the enemy had started with.

“Dear spirits,” Kahlan whispered, “how many men does the Old World have to throw at us?”

When she met Warren’s gaze, she knew that this number, even, was hardly surprising to him.

Warren gestured to the scout. “Hayes saw only the first group. The men we captured told us about the reinforcements. We weren’t sure they were telling us the truth—we thought they might be trying to spook us—but then we met up with Corporal Hayes, on his way back. We did some further questioning and scouting—that’s why we were delayed in returning.”

“Another quarter million . . .” Kahlan’s words trailed off. It all seemed so hopeless.

Warren cleared his throat. “That is just the first column of fresh troops. More are coming.”

Kahlan went to the hearth and warmed her hands as she stared into the flames. She was standing beneath the statue Richard had carved for her, to make her feel better. Kahlan wished that at that moment she could recall the defiant feeling Spirit portrayed. It felt as if she could only contemplate death.

The news of the Imperial Order reinforcements, just as the news of departure of the Galeans and Keltans, spread through the camp faster than a storm wind. Kahlan, Zedd, Warren, Verna, Adie, General Meiffert, and all the rest of the officers held nothing back from the men. Those men were risking their lives daily and had a right to the truth. If Kahlan was passing through the camp, and a soldier was brave enough to ask her, she told him what she knew. She tried to give them confidence, too, but she didn’t lie to them.

The men, having struggled for so long, were beyond fear. The bleak mood was a palpable pall smothering the spark of life out of them. They went about their tasks as if numb, accepting their fate, which now seemed sealed, resigned to the inevitable. The New World offered no shelter, no safe place, nowhere to hide from the boundless menace of the Imperial Order.

Kahlan showed the soldiers a determined face. She had no choice.

Captain Ryan and his men, having been through such despair before, were less troubled by the news. They couldn’t die; they were already dead. Along with Kahlan, the young Galeans had long ago taken an oath of the dead, and could only be returned to life when the Order was destroyed.

None of it mattered much to Captain Zimmer and his men. They knew what needed to be done, and they simply kept at it. Each of them now had multiple strings of ears. They began new strings at one hundred. It was a matter of honor to them that they kept only the right ear, so no two ears could be from the same man.

Representative Theriault of Herjborgue was as good as his word. The white wool cloaks, hats, and mittens arrived weekly, helping hide the men who regularly went on missions, while the weather was in their favor, to attack the Imperial Order. With the sickness in the Order’s camp leaving so many of them weak, along with so many of the enemy having impaired vision, those missions were extraordinarily successful. Troops wearing the concealing cloaks were also sent to lie in wait and intercept any supply trains, hoping to neutralize the reinforcements before they could join with the enemy’s main force.

Still, the attacks were little more than an annoyance to the Order.

Kahlan, after a meeting with a group just returned, found Zedd alone in the lodge, looking over the latest information that had been added to the maps.

“Good fortune,” she said when he looked up, watching as she removed her fur mantle. “The men who just got in had few casualties, and they caught a large group out on patrol. They were able to cut them off and take them all out, including one of Jagang’s Sisters.”

“Then why the long face?”

She could only lift her hands in a forsaken gesture of futility.

“Try not to be so disheartened,” Zedd told her. “Despair is often war’s handmaiden. I can’t tell you how many years it was, back when I was young, that everyone fighting for their lives in that war back then thought that it was only a matter of time until we were crushed. We went on to win.”

“I know, Zedd. I know.” Kahlan rubbed at the chill in her hands. She almost hated to say it, but she finally did. “Richard wouldn’t come to lead the army because he said that the way things stand now, we can’t win. He said whether or not we fight the Order, the world will fall under its shadow, and if we fight, it will only result in more death—that our side will be destroyed, the Order would still rule the world, and any chance for winning in the future would be lost.”

Zedd peered at her with one eye. “Then what are you doing here?”

“Richard said we can’t win, but, dear spirits, I can’t let myself believe that. I would rather die fighting to be free, to help keep my people free, than to live the death of a slave. Yet, I know I’m violating Richard’s wishes, his advice, and his orders. I gave him my word. . . . I feel as if I’m treading the quicksand of betrayal, and taking everyone with me.”

She searched his face for some sign that Richard might have been wrong.

“You said that he had figured out the Wizard’s Sixth Rule on his own—that we must use our minds to see the reality of the way things are. I had hopes. I thought he had to be wrong about the futility of this war, but now . . .”

Zedd smiled to himself, as if finding fancy in something she saw as only horrifying.

“This is going to be a long war. It is far from beyond hope, much less decided. This is the agony of leadership in such a struggle—the doubts, the fears, the feelings of hopelessness. Those are feelings—not necessarily reality. Not yet. We have much yet to bring to bear.

“Richard said what he believed based on the way matters stood at the time he said them. Who is to say that the people are not now prepared to prove themselves to him? Prove themselves ready to reject the Order? Perhaps what Richard needed in order for him to commit to the battle, has already come about.”

“But I know how strongly he warned me against joining this battle. He meant what he said. Still . . . I don’t have Richard’s strength, the strength to turn my back and let it happen.” Kahlan gestured to her inkstand on the table. “I’ve sent letters asking that more troops be sent down here.”

He smiled again, as if to say that proved it could be done.

“It will take continual effort to grind down the enemy’s numbers. I think we have yet to deal the Order a truly serious blow, but we will. The Sisters and I will come up with something. You never know in matters of this kind. It could be that we will suddenly do something that will send them reeling.”

Kahlan smiled and rubbed his shoulder. “Thanks, Zedd. I’m so thankful to have you with us.” Her gaze wandered to Spirit, standing proudly above the hearth. She stepped over to the mantel, as if to an altar that held the sacred carving. “Dear spirits, I miss him.”

It was a question without the words, hoping he would surprise her with something that he had thought of to help get Richard back.

“I know, dear one. I miss him, too. He’s alive—that’s the most important thing.”

Kahlan could only nod.

Zedd clapped his hands together, as if taken with a gleeful thought.

“What we need, more than anything, is something to get everyone’s mind off of the task at hand for a while. Something to give them a reason to cheer together for a while. It would do them more good than anything.”

Kahlan frowned over her shoulder. “Like what? You mean some kind of game, or something?”

His face was all screwed up in musing. “I don’t know. Something happy. Something to show them that the Order can’t stop us from living our lives. Can’t stop us from the enjoyment of life—of what life is really all about.”

He stroked a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw. “Any ideas?”

“Well, I can’t really think of—”

Just then, Warren strode in. “Just got a report from over in the Drun Valley. Our lucky day—no activity, as we expected.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, his hand still holding the door lever, looking from Kahlan to Zedd and back again.

“What’s the matter? What’s going on? Why are you two looking at me like that?”

Verna came up behind Warren and gave him a shove into the lodge. “Go on, go on, get in there. Close the door. What’s the matter with you? It’s freezing out there.”

Verna huffed and shut the door herself. When she turned around and saw Zedd and Kahlan, she backed a step.

“Verna, Warren,” Zedd said in a honeyed voice, “come on in, won’t you?”

Verna scowled. “What are you two scheming and grinning at?”

“Well,” Zedd drawled as he winked at Kahlan, “the Mother Confessor and I were just discussing the big event.”

Verna’s scowl darkened as she leaned in. “What big event? I’ve heard nothing about any big event.”

Even Warren, rarely given to scowling, was scowling now. “That’s right. What big event?”

“Your wedding,” Zedd said.

Both Verna and Warren’s scowls evaporated as they straightened. They were overcome with surprised, silly, radiant grins.

“Really?” Warren asked.

“Really?” Verna asked.

“Yes, really,” Kahlan said.