Severed Souls

CHAPTER 75

Richard’s head jerked up. He realized that he must have nodded off briefly. Blood had puddled on the floor in front of him from the iron collar cutting into his neck. The way the rough iron ring dug into the fresh wound stung.

He was exhausted from the grueling effort of trekking through trackless wilderness to reach the citadel, from whatever sort of power had been used to render them unconscious, and also from the relentless weight of darkness within trying to pull him into the forever of death.

Trying to think clearly, trying to come up with some solution, was also sapping his strength. He could barely form a thought, and what thoughts he could form weren’t helping.

He looked over and saw that Kahlan hadn’t moved. She still hung unconscious. He remembered Nicci telling him that if either of them lost consciousness again from the poison inside them, it would be the last time and they wouldn’t wake again. He didn’t know why she was unconscious, but if it was from the sickness she carried, then it was possible she had already slipped away and would never wake again. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, but he would rather she died that way, than from a long ordeal of torture.

The thought of her dying made him want to scream. He couldn’t endure to contemplate Kahlan being dead. He couldn’t stand the thought of life without her. He would do anything to save her life. Anything.

But it didn’t seem likely that either of them had any life to look forward to.

He had been so confident that they had been close to the resolution to their sickness, that Nicci would be able to heal them, and that they would then be able to collect the horses they needed to make it back to the palace in time. Not only that, but he had been positive that once Kahlan was herself again, she would also recover her strength of spirit and the commitment to what they were fighting for. That dedication to truth and the well-being of good people was so much a part of her, a part of her that he loved. It was her.

Now, those hopes had been crushed.

It had seemed within their grasp. They had worked so hard to get there, only to discover that there was no containment field. He felt cheated. It seemed so unfair.

Richard’s head came up when he heard something out beyond the door. Nicci’s head rose as well. They shared a look.

“Be strong, Richard. Be strong.”

“You too,” he told her.

“Always. We’ve both faced worse than this and survived.”

She actually gave him a smile, then. He actually found himself returning it. She was a rare woman.

He felt a great sadness, then, at the thought of Nicci dying in this miserable dungeon out in the middle of the Dark Lands. Samantha, too, was going to have her life snuffed out before she could live it. It didn’t seem fair.

He knew, though, that there was no such thing as fair in life. Existence had no agenda. Life simply existed. It was up to them to fight for life to be worthwhile and good if that was what they wanted. If they didn’t, evil would flourish unopposed and have its way. And now, that evil was going to win.

The door squealed in protest when it was pulled open.

Richard stared in disbelief when Ludwig Dreier strolled in. The man wore a smirk that widened as his gaze met Richard’s. Rather than the black clothes Richard was used to seeing the man wear, he now had on rather royal-looking purple-and-gold robes that swished around his legs as he walked.

Behind him was a Mord-Sith wearing black leather. Even through his pain, Richard found himself astonished to see the woman. Kahlan had told him about her, but it was puzzling as to why there were Mord-Sith other than the ones he knew at the People’s Palace. The Mord-Sith, after all, were a creation of Richard’s more ruthless ancestors.

“Well, well, Lord Rahl, how nice to see you again.”

Again, a flip answer sprang to mind, but instead of giving voice to it, Richard didn’t say anything. This was all part of Ludwig Dreier’s elaborate scheme and nothing Richard could do or say was going to change the man’s plans.

The abbot walked to Samantha first, leaning down a little in order to look up into her face. “A sorceress, I see. How lovely. In the past I have been able to get useful prophecy from the gifted.” He tweaked her nose. “I believe you might come in handy, little one.”

“Let us go,” Samantha said, nearly in tears, “we’ve done nothing to you.”

“That’s a matter open to debate, but perhaps another time. It’s the middle of the night and I’m not in the mood for it.”

The Mord-Sith gave Samantha a cold, meaningful look as Ludwig Dreier moved on to Nicci.

“Another sorceress, I see,” he said. “But not merely a sorceress. A woman with skills and talents beyond those she was born with.”

Nicci glared at the man, and like Richard didn’t waste any effort in answering him. Nicci had grown up and spent most of her life in the clutches of sadistic men. She knew not to waste her time trying to talk reason to madness.

“Again, a gifted woman who I believe will be able to provide remarkable prophecy once properly prepared. I am sure her living entrails will reveal great secrets.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t you think?”

The Mord-Sith showed him a cunning smile. “I believe you may be correct, Lord Dreier.”

“Lord Dreier!” Richard said. “You have got to be kidding me. Why didn’t you just skip right to Emperor Dreier?”

The man’s intense focus turned to Richard. He moved closer. “An excellent suggestion, now that you mention it. I like the sound of that. Ah, but first I have work to do before that day comes.”

“What kind of work?” Richard asked before he remembered that he had planned on remaining silent.

“Well, you see, Hannis Arc has awakened the spirit king—with the aid of your gifted blood, no less—and that has made things more … chaotic, more complicated. I am going to need to use prophecy to help me overcome the obstacle of that remarkable event and such powerful men.” He held up a finger as he leaned closer. “But I assure you, I will.”

“You don’t have a clue as to what you’re up against,” Richard said as he glared.

Ludwig Dreier smiled as if it were a joke only he understood. “Actually, I do.”

“And what is it you want from us?” Richard asked.

The man flicked a hand as he walked on to Kahlan. “Many things. All in due time. We will start on that tomorrow. Tonight you can stand there as you wait until after I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I want to be well rested so that I can fully enjoy overseeing what is to come.”

He lifted Kahlan’s chin. When he withdrew his hand, Kahlan’s head flopped back down. Richard could see it reopen the wound across the front of her throat where the iron collar was cutting into her flesh from the weight of her head.

“Erika, be a dear and wake her for me, would you please?”

For the first time, the Mord-Sith, standing in front of Richard, staring at him the way Mord-Sith liked to do to intimidate a helpless victim, smiled. He understood all too well the meaning in that smile. She was telling him that she knew that she was really hurting him more than she could ever hurt Kahlan.