Naked Empire

Chapter 41

“Three years ago from the coming autumn,” Richard began, “I lived in a place called Hartland. I was a woods guide. I had a peaceful life in a place I loved among those I loved. I knew very little about the places beyond my home. In some ways I was like you people before the Order came, so I can understand some of what you felt about how things changed.

“Like you, I lived beyond a boundary that protected us from those who would do us harm.”

The men broke out in excited whispering, apparently surprised and pleased that they could relate to him in this way, that they had something so basic in common with him.

“What happened, then?” one of the men asked.

Richard couldn’t help himself; he couldn’t hold back the smile that overwhelmed him.

“One day, in my woods”—he held his hand out to the side—“Kahlan showed up. Like you, her people were in desperate trouble. She needed help. Rather than poison me, though, she told me her story and how trouble was coming our way. Much like you, the boundary protecting her people had failed and a tyrant had invaded her homeland. She also came bearing a warning that this man would soon come to my homeland, too, and conquer my people, my friends, my loved ones.”

All the faces turned toward Kahlan. The men stared openly, as if seeing her for the first time. It looked to be astonishing to them that this statuesque woman before them could be a savage, as they thought of outsiders, and have the same kind of trouble they’d had. Richard was leaving out vast chunks of the story, but he wanted to keep it simple enough to be clear to these men.

“I was named the Seeker of Truth and given this sword to help me in this important struggle.” Richard lifted the hilt clear of the scabbard by half the length of the blade, letting the men all see the polished steel.

Many grimaced at seeing such a weapon.

“Together, side by side, Kahlan and I struggled to stop the man who sought to enslave or destroy us all. In a strange land, she was my guide, not only helping me to fight against those who would kill us, but helping me to come to understand the wider world I had never before considered. She opened my eyes to what was out there, beyond the boundary that had protected me and my people. She helped me to see the approaching shadow of tyranny and know the true stakes involved—life itself.

“She made me live up to the challenge. Had she not, I would not be alive today, and a great many more people would be dead or enslaved.”

Richard had to turn away, then, at the flood of painful memories, at the thought of all those lost in the struggle. At the victories so hard won.

He put his hand to the statue for support as he remembered the gruesome murder of George Cypher, the man who had raised him, the man who, until that struggle, Richard had always believed was his father. The pain of it, so distant and far away, came rushing back again. He remembered the horror of that time, of suddenly realizing that he would never again see the man he dearly loved. He had forgotten until that moment how much he missed him.

Richard gathered his composure and turned back to the men. “In the end, and only with Kahlan’s help, I won the struggle against that tyrant I had never known existed until the day she had come into my woods and warned me.

“That man was Darken Rahl, my father, a man I had never known.”

The men stared in disbelief. “You never knew?” one asked in an astonished voice.

Richard shook his head. “It’s a very long story. Maybe another time I will tell you men all of it. For now, I must tell you the important parts that are relevant to you and those you love back there in your homes.”

Richard looked at the ground before him, thinking, as he paced in front of the disorderly knot of men.

“When I killed Darken Rahl, I did it to keep him from killing me and my loved ones. He had tortured and murdered countless people and that alone earned him death, but I had to kill him or he would have killed me. I didn’t know at the time that he was my real father or that in killing him, since I was his heir, I would become the new Lord Rahl.

“Had he known who I was, he might not have been trying to kill me, but he didn’t know. I had information he wanted; he intended to torture it out of me and then kill me. I killed him first.

“Since that time, I have come to learn a great deal. What I learned connects us”—Richard gestured to the men and then placed the hand on his own chest as he met their gazes—“in ways you must come to understand, as well, if you are to succeed in this new struggle.

“The land where I grew up, Kahlan’s land, and the land of D’Hara, all make up the New World. As you have learned, this vast land down here outside where you grew up is called the Old World. After I became Lord Rahl, the barrier protecting us from the Old World failed, much as your own boundary failed. When it did, Emperor Jagang of the Imperial Order, down here in the Old World, used the opportunity to invade the New World, my home, much as he invaded your home. We’ve been fighting him and his troops for over two years, trying to defeat them or at least to drive them back to the Old World.

“The barrier that failed had protected us from the Order, or men like them, for around three thousand years, longer, even, than you were protected. Before that barrier was placed at the end of a great war, the enemy at the time, from the Old World, had used magic to create people called dream walkers.”

The men fell to whispering. They had heard the name, but they didn’t really understand it and speculated on what it could mean.

“Dream walkers,” Richard explained, when they had quieted, “could enter a person’s mind in order to control them. There was no defense. Once a dream walker took over your mind, you became his slave, unable to resist his commands. The people back then were desperate.

“A man named Alric Rahl, my ancestor, came up with a way to protect people’s minds from being taken over by the dream walkers. He was not only the Lord Rahl who ruled D’Hara at the time, but he was also a great wizard. Through his ability he created a bond that when spoken earnestly or given in a more simple form with heartfelt sincerity, protected people from dream walkers entering their minds. Alric Rahl’s link of magic to his people, through this bond, protected them.

“The devotion you men all gave is the formal declaration of that bond. It has been given by the D’Haran people to their Lord Rahl for three thousand years.”

Some of the men in front stepped forward, their faces etched with anxiety. “Are we protected, then, from the dream walkers, Lord Rahl, because we gave this oath? Are we protected from the dream walkers entering our minds and taking us?”

Richard shook his head. “You and your people need no protection. You are already protected in another way.”

Relief swept through the crowd of men. Some gripped the shoulder of another, or placed a hand in relief on a friend’s back. They looked as if they feared that dream walkers were stalking them, and they had just been spared at the last instant.

“But how is it that we can be protected?” Owen asked.

Richard took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Well, that’s the part that in a way connects us. You see, as I understand it, magic needs balance in order to function.”

There were knowing nods all around, as if these pristinely ungifted men all had an intimate understanding of magic.

“When Alric Rahl used magic to create this bond in order to protect his people,” Richard went on, “there needed to always be a Lord Rahl to complete the bond, to maintain its power. Not all wizards bear children who also possess this gifted ability, so part of what Alric Rahl did when he created this bond was to make it so that the Lord Rahl would always bear one son who had magic, who had the gift, and could complete this bond with the people of D’Hara. In this way they would always be protected.”

Richard held up a finger to make his point as he swept his gaze over the crowd of men. “What they didn’t know at the time was that this magic inadvertently created its own balance. While the Lord Rahl always produced a gifted heir—a wizard like him—it was only discovered later that he also occasionally produced offspring who were entirely without any magic.”

Richard could see by the blank looks that the men didn’t grasp what he was telling them. He imagined that for people living such isolated lives, his story must seem rather confusing, if not far-fetched. He remembered his own confusion about magic before the boundary had come down and he’d met Kahlan. He hadn’t been raised around magic and he still didn’t understand most of it himself. He’d been born with both sides of the gift, and yet he didn’t know how to control it.

“You see,” he said, “only some people have magic—are gifted, as it’s called. But all people are born with at least a very tiny spark of the gift, even though they can’t manipulate magic. Until just recently, everyone thought of these people as ungifted. You see? The gifted, like wizards and sorceresses, can manipulate magic, and the rest of the people can’t, so they were believed to be ungifted.

“But it turns out that this isn’t accurate, since there is an infinitesimal spark of the gift in everyone born. This tiny spark of the gift is actually what allows people to interact with the magic in the world around them, that is, with things and creatures that have magical properties, and with people who are gifted in a more comprehensive sense—those who do have the ability to manipulate magic.”

“Some people in Bandakar have magic, too,” a man said. “True magic. Only those who have never seen—”

“No,” Richard said, cutting him off. He didn’t want them losing track of his account. “Owen told me about what you people believe is magic. That’s not magic, that’s mysticism. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about real magic that produces real results in the real world. Forget what you’ve been taught about magic, about how faith supposedly creates what you believe in and that is real magic. It’s not real. It’s just the fanciful illusion of magic in people’s imaginations.”

“But it is real,” someone said in a respectful but firm voice. “More real than what you see and feel.”

Richard turned a harsh look on the men. “If it’s so real, then why did you have to use a known poison on me that was mixed by a man who had worked his whole life with herbs? Because you know what’s real, that’s why; when it was vital to your self-interest, to your lives, you resorted to dealing in reality, to what you know really works.”

Richard pointed back at Kahlan. “The Mother Confessor has real magic. It’s no fanciful curse put on someone and when they die ten years later people believe the curse was the cause. She has real magic that is in elemental ways linked to death, so it affects even you. She can touch someone, with this real magic, and in an instant they will be dead. Not ten years from now—right now, on the spot.”

Richard stood resolutely in front of the men, gazing from eye to eye.

“If someone doesn’t believe that is real magic, then let’s have a test. Let them perform their faith-based magic and put a spell on me—to kill me right here and now. After they’ve done that, then they will come forward and be touched by the Mother Confessor’s very real, lethal power. Then everyone else will be able to see the results and judge for themselves.” He looked from face to face. “Anyone willing to take up the test? Any magicians among all you ungifted people willing to try it?”

When the men remained silent, no one moving, Richard went on.

“So, it would seem that you men do have some understanding of what’s real and what isn’t. Keep that in mind. Learn from it.

“Now, I told you how the Lord Rahl always bore a son with magic so he could pass on the rule of D’Hara and his gifted ability in order to make the bond work. But, as I said, the bond that Alric Rahl created may have had an unintended consequence.

“Only later was it discovered that the Lord Rahl, possibly as a means of balance, also sometimes produced offspring that were entirely without any magic—not just ungifted in the way most people are, but unlike any people ever born before: they were pristinely ungifted. These pristinely ungifted people had absolutely no spark of the gift whatsoever.

“Because of that, because they were pristinely ungifted, they were unable to interact with the real magic in the world. They were unable to be touched by magic at all. For them, magic might as well not exist because they were not born with the ability to see it or to interact with it. You might say they were like a bird that could not fly. They looked like a bird, they had feathers, they ate bugs, but they couldn’t fly.

“Back then in that time, three thousand years ago, after the bond had been created to protect people from dream walkers in the war, the wizards finally succeeded in placing a barrier between the Old and the New World. Because those in the Old World could no longer come to the New World to wage war, the great war ended. Peace finally came.

“The people of the New World discovered, though, that they had a problem. These pristinely ungifted offspring of the Lord Rahl passed this trait on to their children. Every offspring of a marriage with at least one of these pristinely ungifted partners bears pristinely ungifted children—always, every time. As these offspring married and had children and then grandchildren and then great-grandchildren, as there were more and more of them, that pristinely ungifted trait began spreading throughout the population.

“People, at the time, were frightened because they depended on magic. Magic was part of their world. Magic was what had saved them from the dream walkers. Magic had created the barrier that protected them from the horde from the Old World. Magic had ended the war. Magic healed people, found lost children, produced beautiful creations of art that inspired and brought joy. Magic could help guide people in the course of future events.

“Some towns grew up around a gifted person who could serve people’s needs. Many gifted people earned a living performing such services. In some things, magic gave people control over nature and thus made the lives of everyone better. Things accomplished with the aid of magic improved the living conditions of nearly everyone. Magic was a force of individual creation and thus individual accomplishment. Nearly everyone derived some benefit from it.

“This is not to say that magic was or is indispensable, but that it was a useful aid, a tool. Magic was like their right arm. Yet it’s the mind of man, not his magic, that is indispensable—much like you could survive without your right arm, but you couldn’t survive without your mind. But magic had become intertwined in the lives of everyone, so many believed that it was absolutely indispensable.

“The people came to feel that this new threat—the pristinely ungifted trait spreading through the population—would be the end of everything they knew, everything that they thought was important, that it would be the end of their most vital protection—magic.”

Richard gazed out at all the faces, waiting to make sure that the men had grasped the essence of the story, that they understood how desperate the people must have been, and why.

“So, what did the people do about these new pristinely ungifted people among them?” a man in the back asked.

In a quiet tone, Richard said, “Something terrible.”

He pulled the book from a leather pouch on his belt and held it up for all the men to see as he again paced before them. The clouds, laden with storms of snow, rolled silently through the frigid valley pass, bound for the peaks above them.

“This book is called The Pillars of Creation. That’s what the wizards back then called these pristinely ungifted people—pillars of Creation—because they had the power, with this trait that they passed along to their offspring, to alter the very nature of mankind. They were the foundation of an entirely new kind of people—people without any connection to magic.

“I only just a short time ago came across this book. It’s meant for the Lord Rahl, and others, so that they will know about these pristinely ungifted people who are unaffected by magic. The book tells the history of how these people came about—through those born to the Lord Rahl—along with the history of what was discovered about them. It also reveals what the people back then, thousands of years ago, did about these pillars of Creation.”

Men rubbed their arms in the cold air as Richard slowly paced before them. They all looked caught up in the story.

“So,” Owen asked, “what did they do?”

Richard came to a stop and stood watching their eyes before he spoke.

“They banished them.”

Astonished whispering broke out among the men. They were stunned to hear the final solution. These people understood banishment, they understood it all too well, and they could sympathize with these banished people of so long ago.

“That’s terrible,” a man in front said, shaking his head.

Another frowned and held up a hand. “Weren’t these pillars of Creation related to some of the other people? Weren’t they part of the towns? Didn’t the people feel sorrow at banishing these ungifted people?”

Richard nodded. “Yes. They were friends and family. Those banished people were intimately intertwined in the lives of nearly everyone. The book tells how heavy hearted the people felt at the decision that had been reached about these pristinely ungifted people. It must have been an awful time, a dreadful choice that no one liked, but those in charge at the time decided that in order for them to preserve their way of life, to preserve magic and all it meant to them, to preserve that attribute of man, rather than value the lives of individuals for who they were, they had to banish these pristinely ungifted people.

“What’s more, they also decreed that all future offspring of the Lord Rahl, except his gifted heir, should be put to death to insure that no pillar of Creation ever again came among them.”

This time there was no whispering. The men looked saddened by the story of these mysterious people and the terrible solution of how to deal with them. Heads hung as the men thought about what it must have been like back in such a grim time.

Finally, a man’s head came up. His brow twitched. He finally asked the question Richard expected to be asked, the question he had been waiting for.

“But where were these pillars of Creation banished to? Where were they sent?”

Richard watched the men as other eyes turned up, curious about the historic mystery, waiting for him to go on.

“These people were not affected by magic,” Richard reminded them. “And the barrier holding back the Old World was a barrier created of magic.”

“They sent them through the barrier!” a man guessed aloud.

Richard nodded. “Many wizards had died and given their power into that barrier so that their people would be protected from those in the Old World who wanted to rule them and to end magic. That was a large part of what the war had been fought over—those in the Old World had wanted to eradicate magic from mankind.

“So, those people in the New World sent these pristinely ungifted people, these people without any magic, through the barrier to the Old World.

“They never knew what became of them, those friends and family and loved ones they had banished, because they had been sent beyond a barrier that none of them could cross. It was thought that they would establish new lives, would make a new beginning. But, because the barrier was there, and it was enemy territory beyond, the people of the New World never knew what became of those banished people.

“Finally, a few years ago, that barrier came down. If these banished people had made a life for themselves in the Old World, they would have had children and spread their pristinely ungifted attribute”—Richard lifted his arms in a shrug—“but there is no trace of them. The people down here are just the same as the people up in the New World—some born gifted but all born with at least that tiny spark of the gift that enables them to interact with magic.

“Those people from ancient times seemed just to have vanished.”

“So now we know,” Owen reasoned as he stared off in thought, “that all those people sent to the Old World so long ago tragically died out . . . or maybe were killed.”

“I had thought as much myself,” Richard said. He turned and faced the men, waiting until all eyes were on him before going on. “But then I found them. I found those long-lost people.”

Excited whispering broke out again. The men appeared inspired by the prospect of such people surviving against all odds.

“Where are they, then, Lord Rahl,” a man asked, “these people with whom you share ancestry? These people who had to endure such cruel banishment and hardship?”

Richard leveled a cutting gaze at the men. “Come with me, and I will tell you what became of these people.”

Richard led them around the statue, to the front, where, for the first time, they could see the full view of the sentinel in stone. The men were awestruck at finally seeing the statue from the front. They talked excitedly among themselves about how real it looked, about how they could clearly see the stalwart features of the man’s face.

By the utter shock in their voices and by what the men were saying, Richard got the distinct impression that they’d never seen a statue before, at least no statue as monumental as this one. It appeared that for these men the statue must be something akin to a manifestation of magic, rather than, as Richard knew it to be, a manifestation of man’s ability.

Richard placed a hand on the cold stone of the base. “This is an ancient statue of an Old World wizard named Kaja-Rang. It was carved, in part, as a tribute to the man because he was a great and powerful wizard.”

Owen lifted a hand to interrupt. “But I thought the people in the Old World wanted to be without magic? Why would they have a great wizard—and why, especially, would they pay a tribute to such a man of magic?”

Richard smiled at Owen catching the contradiction. “People don’t always act in a consistent manner. What’s more, the more irrational are your beliefs, the more glaring the inconsistencies. You men, for example, try to gloss over incongruities in your behavior by applying your convictions selectively. You claim that nothing is real, or that we cannot know the true nature of reality, and yet you fear what the Order does to you—you believe firmly enough in the reality of what they’re doing that you want it to stop.

“If nothing were real, then you would have no reason to want to stop the Imperial Order. In fact, it’s counter to your professed beliefs to try to stop them, or to even feel that their presence is real, much less detrimental, since you assert that man is inadequate at the task of knowing reality.

“Yet you grasp the reality of what’s happening at the hands of the men of the Order, and know very well that it’s abhorrent, so you selectively suspend the precepts of your beliefs in order to send Owen to poison me in an attempt to get me to rid you of your very real problem.”

Some of the men looked confused by what Richard said while others looked to be embarrassed. A few looked astonished. None looked willing to challenge him, so they let him go on without interrupting.

“The people in the Old World were the same way—they still are. They claimed they didn’t want magic, and yet when faced with that reality, they didn’t want to do without it. The Imperial Order is like this. They’ve come to the New World claiming to be a champion of freeing mankind of magic, proclaiming themselves to be noble for holding such a goal, and yet they use magic in the pursuit of this professed goal. They contend that magic is evil, and yet they embrace it.

“Their leader, Emperor Jagang, uses those with magic to help accomplish his ends, among which, he claims, is the eradication of magic. Jagang is a dream walker descended from those dream walkers of so long ago. His ability as a dream walker is magic, yet he does not disqualify himself from leading his empire. Even though he has magic, which he claims makes people unfit to have any say in the future, he calls himself Jagang the Just.

“Despite what they declare they believe, their goal is to rule people, plain and simple. They seek power but dress it up in noble-sounding robes. Every tyrant thinks he is different. They are all the same. They all rule by brute force.”

Owen was frowning, trying to grasp it all. “So, those in the Old World did not live by their word, by what they claimed they believed. They lived in conflict. They preached that man was better without magic, but they continued to want to use magic.”

“That’s right.”

Owen gestured up at the statue. “What of this man, then? Why is he here, if he is against what they preached?”

Dark clouds roiled above the towering statue. The still air hung cold, heavy, and damp. It felt as if a storm were holding back its onslaught, waiting to hear the rest.

“This man is here because he fought to save the people of the Old World from something they feared more than magic itself,” Richard said.

He gazed up at the resolute face with its eyes fixed forever on the place called the Pillars of Creation.

“This man,” Richard said in a quiet voice, “this wizard, Kaja-Rang, collected all of those pristinely ungifted people, those pillars of Creation, who had been banished down here from the New World, along with any people who while they lived here had joined with them, and he sent them all there.”

Richard pointed off into the distance behind the statue.

“He put all those people in that place, protected by the mountains all around, and then he placed a boundary of death before them, across this pass, so that they could never again come out to be among the rest of the people of the world.

“Kaja-Rang gave these people their name: the Bandakar. The name, bandakar, is from a very old language called High D’Haran. It means ‘the banished.’ This man, Kaja-Rang, is the one who sealed them in and saved his people from the pristinely ungifted, from those without magic.”

“You,” Richard said to the men before him, “are the descendants of those banished people. You are the descendants of Alric Rahl, of the people sent into exile in the Old World. You are all descendants of the House of Rahl. Your ancestors and mine are the same men. You are the banished people.”

The top of the pass before the statue of Kaja-Rang was dead silent. The men stared in shock.

And then pandemonium broke out. Richard made no effort to stop them, to bring them to be quiet. Rather, he stood close beside Kahlan as he let them take it in. He wanted to give them the time they needed to come to grasp the enormity of what he had told them.

Arms in the air, some men cried out with the outrage at what they’d heard, others wailed with the horror of the story, some wept in sorrow, many argued, a few protested various points that others answered, while yet others repeated key elements to one another almost as if to hear the words again so they could test them, agreeing finally that it might very well be so.

But through it all, they all slowly began to grasp the enormity of what they’d heard. They all began to hear the ring of truth in the story.

Chattering like magpies, all talking at once, they expressed disbelief, outrage, wonder, and even fear, as they came to the heady comprehension of who they really were.

At the whispered urging of some among the group, after having gotten over the initial shock, the men all quieted and at last turned back to Richard, hungry to know more.

“You are this gifted man, the favored heir, the Lord Rahl, and we are the ones banished by your kind,” one of the men said, expressing what looked to be a common fear, the unspoken question of what this would mean for them.

“That’s right,” Richard said. “I am the Lord Rahl, the leader of the D’Haran Empire, and you are the descendants of the pillars of Creation who were banished. I am gifted as have been my ancestors, every Lord Rahl before me. You are ungifted as were your ancestors.”

Standing before the statue of Kaja-Rang, the man who had banished them, Richard looked out at all the tense faces.

“That banishment was a grievous wrong. It was immoral. As Lord Rahl, I denounce the banishment and declare it forever ended. You are no longer the Empire of Bandakar, the banished ones, you are now once again, as you once were, D’Harans, if you choose to be.”

Every man seemed to hold his breath, waiting to see if he meant it, or would add more, or if he might even recant it.

Richard put his arm around Kahlan’s waist as he calmly gazed out at all the hopeful expressions.

Richard smiled. “Welcome home.”

And then they were all falling at his feet, kissing his boots, his pants, his hands, and, for those who couldn’t crowd in close enough, the ground before him. In short order, they were kissing the hem of Kahlan’s dress.

They had found a relation, and were in turn welcoming him among them.