Stone of Tears

Chapter 2

Zedd idly fingered the stone through the coarse cloth of his robe, where it was nestled in an inner pocket, as he watched the claws pull back through the rips in the metal. He turned and watched the boundary warden carrying Rachel down the hall. They hadn’t gone more than a few dozen strides when one of the doors flew off its hinges with a horrific boom. The strong hinges shattered as if they were made of clay.

Zedd dove out of the way, the gold-clad iron door just missing him as it flew across the hall and crashed against the polished granite wall, sending shards of metal flying and stone dust boiling down the hall. Zedd rolled to his feet and ran.

The screeling bounded out of the Garden of Life and into the hall. Its body was hardly more than a squat skeleton covered in a veneer of dry, crisp, blackened skin. Like a corpse that had dried in the sun for years. White bone stuck out in places where the skin, hanging in flaps here and there, had been torn in the fight, but that didn’t seem to bother the creature; it was a thing of the underworld, and not hindered by all the frailties of life. There was no blood.

If it could be torn up enough, or hacked apart, maybe it could be stopped, but it was awfully quick. And magic certainly wasn’t doing it much harm. It was a creature of Subtractive Magic; Additive Magic was just being absorbed into it like a sponge.

Maybe it could be harmed with Subtractive Magic, but Zedd had nothing of that half of the gift. No wizard in the last few thousand years did. Some might have had the calling for the Subtractive—Darken Rahl was proof of that—but none had had the gift for it.

No, his magic wasn’t going to stop this thing. At least, the wizard thought, not directly. But maybe indirectly?

Zedd walked backward as the screeling watched with blinking, bewildered eyes. Now, he thought, while it’s standing still.

Concentrating, Zedd gathered the air, making it dense, dense enough to lift the heavy door. He was tired; it took an effort. He pushed the air with a mental grunt, crashing the door onto the back of the screeling. Dust rolled up and across the hall as the door slammed the creature to the ground. It howled. Zedd wondered if it was howling in pain, or anger.

The door lifted, stone chips sliding off. The screeling held the heavy door up with one clawed hand as it laughed, a woody tendril of the vine he had tried to strangle it with still coiled around its neck.

“Bags,” Zedd muttered. “Nothing is ever easy.”

Zedd kept walking backward. The door crashed to the floor as the screeling stepped out from underneath it and followed. It was starting to learn that the people who walked were the same ones who ran or stood still. This was an unfamiliar world to it. Zedd had to think of something before it learned any more. If only he wasn’t so tired.

Chase went down a wide marble stairway. Zedd followed him at a quick walk. If he had been sure it wasn’t Chase or Rachel the screeling was after, he would have gone a different way, drawing the danger away from them, but it could just as easily go after them, and he didn’t want to leave Chase to fight it alone.

A man and a woman, both in white robes, were coming up the stairs. Chase tried to turn them around but they slipped past him.

“Walk!” Zedd yelled at them. “Don’t run! Go back or you will be killed!” They frowned at him in confusion.

The screeling was shuffling along toward the stairs, its claws clicking and scraping on the marble floor. Zedd could hear it panting with that nerve-jarring near laughter.

The two people saw the dark thing and froze, their blue eyes going wide. Zedd shoved them, turning them around, and forced them back down the stairs. They both suddenly broke into a run, bounding down the stairs three at a time, their blond hair and white robes flying.

“Don’t run!” Zedd and Chase yelled at the same time.

The screeling rose up on its clawed toes, attracted by the sudden movement. It let out a cackling laugh and darted to the stairs. Zedd threw a fist of air, hitting it in the chest, knocking it back a pace. It hardly noticed. It peered over the carved stone railing at the top and saw the people running.

With a cackle, it grasped the railing and leapt over, dropping a good twenty feet to the two running, white-robed figures. Chase immediately put Rachel’s face to his shoulder and reversed direction, coming back up the stairs. He knew what was going to happen, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Zedd waited at the top. “Hurry, while it’s distracted.”

There was a very brief struggle, and screams that were just as brief. Howling laughter echoed in the stairwell. Blood splattered in an arc up the white marble, almost to where Chase was charging up the stairs. Rachel hid her face against him and hugged his neck tight, but didn’t make a sound.

Zedd was impressed by her. He had never seen one so young use her head as well as she did. She was smart. Smart and gutsy. He understood why Giller had used her to try to keep the last box of Orden away from Darken Rahl. The way of wizards, Zedd thought—using people to do what must be done.

The three ran down the hall until the screeling appeared at the top of stairs; then they slowed to a backward walk. The screeling grinned with bloodred teeth, its deathless black eyes momentarily reflecting golden in the sunlight coming in a tall, narrow window. It winced at the light, licked the blood off its claws, and then loped after them. They went down the next stairway. The creature followed, sometimes stopping briefly in confusion, seemingly unsure if it was them it was after.

Chase held Rachel in one arm and a sword in his other hand. Zedd stayed between them and the screeling as they backed down a small hall. The screeling climbed up the walls, scratching the smooth stone, and sprang across tapestries, tearing them with its claws as it followed the three.

Polished walnut side tables, each with three ornate legs carved in vines and dotted with gilded blossoms, tipped over into the hall as the screeling pushed at them with a claw, grinning and laughing at the sound of cut-glass vases shattering on the stone floor. Water and flowers spilled over carpets. The screeling hopped down and tore a priceless blue and yellow Tanimuran carpet to shreds as it howled in laughter and then skittered up the wall to the ceiling.

It advanced along the ceiling like a spider, head hanging down, watching them.

“How can it do that?” Chase whispered.

Zedd only shook his head as they backed into the immense central halls of the People’s Palace. The ceiling here was well over fifty feet high, a collection of four-pointed ribbed vaults held up by a column at the corner of each vault.

Suddenly the screeling sprang along the ceiling of the small hall it was in and leapt at them.

Zedd released a bolt of fire as the creature flew through the air. He missed, the fire boiling up the granite wall, leaving a trail of black soot before it dissipated.

For the first time, Chase didn’t miss. With a solid strike his sword lopped off one of the screeling’s arms. For the first time the screeling howled in pain. It tumbled around on the ground and darted behind a green-veined gray marble column. The severed arm lay on the stone floor, twitching and grasping.

Soldiers came running across the vast hall, their swords to hand, the clatter of their armor and weapons reverberating off the vaulted ceilings high overhead, their boot strikes echoing off the tiles around the devotion pool as they skirted it. D’Haran soldiers were a fierce lot, and they looked all the more so at finding there was an invader in the palace.

Zedd felt an odd sort of apprehension at the sight of them. A few days ago they would have dragged him off to the former Master Rahl to be killed; now they were the loyal followers of the new Master Rahl, Zedd’s grandson, Richard.

As Zedd saw the soldiers coming, he realized the halls were filled with people. The afternoon devotion had just ended. Even if the screeling did have only one arm, this could be a bloodbath. The screeling could kill a few dozen of them before they even thought to run. And then it would kill more when they did. They had to get all these people away.

The soldiers rushed up around the wizard, eyes hard, searching, ready, looking for the cause of the commotion. Zedd turned to the commander, a heavily muscled man in leather and a polished breastplate with the ornate letter R embossed on it: the symbol of the House of Rahl. The scars of rank were incised on upper arms covered only with coarse mail sleeves. Intense blue eyes glowered out from under his gleaming helmet.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded. “What is it?”

“Get these people out of this hall. They are all in danger.”

The commander’s face reddened behind the cheek plates of his helmet. “I’m a soldier, not a bloody sheepherder!”

Zedd gritted his teeth. “And a soldier’s first duty is to protect people. If you don’t get these people out of this hall, Commander, I will see to it you become a sheepherder!”

The commander’s fist snapped to his heart in salute, his voice suddenly controlled at realizing who he was arguing with. “By your command, Wizard Zorander.” He turned his anger instead on his men. “Get everyone back! Right bloody now! Spread rank! Sweep the hall!”

The soldiers fanned out, pushing a wave of startled people before them. Zedd hoped they could get them all clear, and then maybe, with the soldiers’ help, they could bottle up the screeling and hack it to pieces.

But then the screeling launched itself from behind the column, a black streak tearing across the floor. It tumbled into a bunched knot of onlookers the soldiers were herding back, toppling many over one another to the floor. Shrieks and wails and the screeling’s hideous laughter erupted from across the hall.

Soldiers fell upon the creature and were flung back, bloodied, as more came to their aid. In the panicked clump of people, the soldiers couldn’t swing a sword or axe with any effect as the screeling tore a bloody path through the bodies. It had no more caution for the armed soldiers than unarmed innocents. It simply ripped at anyone close enough.

“Bags!” Zedd cursed. He turned to Chase. “Stick close to me. We have to draw it away.” He looked around. “Over there. The devotion pool.”

They ran to the square pool of water that was situated under an opening in the roof. Sunlight streamed down, reflecting in rippling patterns on the column at one of its corners. A bell perched on the dark pitted rock that sat off-center in the water. Orange fish glided through the shallow pool, unconcerned with the mayhem above.

Zedd was getting an idea. The screeling certainly wasn’t bothered by fire; the most it did when hit with it was steam a little. He ignored the sounds of pain and dying and stretched his hands out over the water, gathering its warmth, preparing it for what he was going to do. He could see shimmering waves of heat just above the surface of the water. He held the rising heat at that point, just below ignition.

“When it comes,” he told Chase, “we have to get it in the water.”

Chase nodded. Zedd was glad the boundary warden wasn’t one who always needed to have things explained to him, and knew better than to waste precious seconds with questions. Chase set Rachel on the floor. “Stay behind me,” he told her.

She, too, asked no questions. She nodded and hugged her doll close. Zedd saw she was clutching the fire stick in her other hand. Gutsy indeed. He turned to the uproar across the hall, lifted a hand, and sent tickling tongues of flame into the flailing dark thing in its center. The soldiers fell back.

The screeling straightened, turning, dropping a disembodied arm from its teeth as it did so. Steam rose where the flames had licked it. It hissed a cackling laugh at the wizard standing still in the sunlight by the pool.

The soldiers were pushing the remaining people down the halls, although the people no longer needed the encouragement. Zedd rolled balls of fire across the floor. The screeling batted them out of the way and they sparked out. Zedd knew the fire wouldn’t harm it; he only wanted to draw its attention. It worked.

“Don’t forget,” he said to Chase, “in the water.”

“You don’t mind if it’s dead when it goes in, do you?”

“All the better.”

With a clatter of claws against stone, the screeling charged across the hall. The tips of the claws scratched into the floor, sending little spurts of stone dust behind along with flakes and chips. Zedd hit it with compacted knots of air, hammering it down, keeping its attention, trying to slow it down enough so they might be able to handle it. It came to its feet in a rush each time, charging onward. Chase crouched a little lower in readiness, now holding a six-bladed mace in his fist instead of the sword.

The screeling made an impossible leap through the air at the wizard, landing on him with a howl before he had a chance to turn it aside. As he was thrown to the floor, Zedd wove webs of air to keep the thrashing claw at bay. Teeth snapped viciously at his throat.

Man and beast rolled over once, and when the screeling came up on top, Chase swung the mace at its head, hitting a glancing blow. It spun to him and he slammed it square in the chest, knocking it off the wizard. Zedd could hear bones snapping with the blow. The screeling seemed hardly to notice.

Its one arm swept out, yanking Chase’s legs out from under him, and then sprang on his chest as he hit the floor with a hard grunt. Zedd struggled to regain his wits. Rachel laid the fire stick on the screeling’s back, and flames burst up. Zedd pushed it with air, trying to knock it in the water, but the screeling held on to Chase tenaciously. Angry black eyes glared out from behind the fire. Lips curled back in a snarl.

Chase brought the mace up with both hands, catching the powerful creature square in the back. The impact knocked the screeling into the pool. Hissing steam rose upon the contact of flame and water.

Instantly, Zedd ignited the air above the water, using the heat in the water to feed it. The wizard’s fire sucked all warmth from the water. The entire pool froze into a solid block of ice. The screeling was encased. The fire sputtered out when the heat feeding it was exhausted. There was sudden quiet, except for the moans from the injured across the hall.

Rachel fell on Chase, her voice choked with tears. “Chase, Chase, are you all right?”

He put an arm around her as he levered himself, into a sitting position. “That I am, little one.”

Zedd could see that that wasn’t entirely true. “Chase, go sit on that bench. I have to help those people, and I don’t want little eyes to see what’s over there.”

He knew this appeal would work better than telling Chase he didn’t want him walking around with his injuries until they could be seen to. Still, Zedd was a little surprised when Chase nodded without protest.

The commander and eight of his men rushed up. A few of them were bloody; one had ragged claw cuts right through the metal of his breastplate. They all cast an eye to the screeling frozen in the pool. “Nice bit of work, Wizard Zorander.” The commander gave a small nod and smile of respect. “There are a few over there who are still alive. Is there anything you can do for them?”

“I’ll have a look. Commander, have your men use their battle-axes to hack that thing to pieces before it figures out how to melt the ice.”

His eyes went wide. “You mean it’s still alive?”

Zedd grunted to indicate that it was so. “The sooner the better, Commander.”

The men already had their crescent axes unhooked from their belts, waiting for the order. The commander gave them a nod and they charged onto the ice, swinging before they slid to a stop.

He lowered his voice. “Wizard Zorander, what is that thing?”

Zedd looked from the man’s face over to Chase, who was listening intently. He held the boundary warden’s gaze. “It’s a screeling.” Chase didn’t show any reaction; the boundary warden rarely did. Zedd turned back to the commander.

The big man’s blue eyes were wide. “The screelings are loose?” he whispered. “Wizard Zorander . . . you can’t be serious.”

Zedd studied the man’s face seeing scars he hadn’t seen before, scars earned in battles to the death. For a D’Haran soldier, there rarely was any other kind. This was a man not used to letting fear show in his eyes. Even in the face of death.

Zedd sighed. He hadn’t slept in days. After the quads had come and tried to capture Kahlan, and she thought Richard had been killed, she had gone into the Con Dar, the blood rage, killing their attackers. She, Chase, and Zedd had walked for three days and nights to reach the palace, for her to extract vengeance. There was no stopping a Confessor in the grip of the Con Dar, that ancient mix of magics. Then they had been captured, and discovered Richard alive. That was only yesterday, but it seemed forever ago.

Darken Rahl had worked all night drawing forth the Magic of Orden from the three boxes as they had watched, helpless, and only this morning was he killed by opening the wrong box. Killed by the Wizard’s First Rule, wielded by Richard. Proof that Richard had the gift, even if Richard didn’t believe it, for only one with the gift could use the Wizard’s First Rule on a wizard of Darken Rahl’s talent.

Zedd glanced over momentarily at the men hacking at the screeling in the ice. “What is your name, Commander?”

The man stiffened proudly to attention. “Commander General Trimack, First File of the Palace Guard.”

“First File? What are they?”

Pride stiffened the man’s jaw even more. “We are the ring of steel around Lord Rahl himself, Wizard Zorander. Two thousand strong. We fall to a man before harm gets a glance at Lord Rahl.”

Zedd nodded. “Commander General Trimack, a man in your position knows that one of the responsibilities of rank is to bear the burden of knowledge in silence and solitude.”

“I do.”

“Your knowledge that this creature is a screeling is one of those burdens. For the time being anyway.”

Trimack let out a heavy breath. “I understand.” He looked over to the people on the floor across the hall. “About the injured, Wizard Zorander?”

Zedd had respect for a soldier who held concern for wounded innocents. His disregard before had been duty, not callousness. His instinct had been to meet the attack.

Zedd started across the hall with Trimack at his side. “You know Darken Rahl is dead?”

“Yes. I was in the grand courtyard earlier today. I saw the new Lord Rahl before he flew away on the red dragon.”

“And you will serve Richard as loyally as you have served in the past?”

“He is a Rahl, is he not?”

“He is a Rahl.”

“And he has the gift?”

“He does.”

Trimack nodded. “To the last man. Before harm gets a glance at him.”

Zedd glanced over. “He will not be an easy man to serve under. He’s headstrong.”

“He is a Rahl. That says the same thing.”

Zedd smiled in spite of himself. “He is also my grandson, although he doesn’t know it yet. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t even know he is a Rahl. Or the Lord Rahl. Richard might not take well to the position he finds himself in. But someday, he is going to need you. I would take it as a personal favor, Commander General Trimack, if you would give him a little understanding.”

Trimack’s eyes surveyed the area, ever ready for any new danger. “I would give him my life.”

“I think understanding would serve him better in the beginning. He thinks of himself as nothing more than a woods guide. He is a leader by nature and by birth, but not by his own appraisal. He will not want anything to do with it, but it has come to him nonetheless.”

At last a smile came to Trimack’s face. “Done.” He stopped and turned to the wizard. “I am a D’Haran soldier. I serve the Lord Rahl. But the Lord Rahl must also serve us. I am the steel against steel. He must be the magic against magic. Without the steel, he may still survive, but without the magic, we will not. Now tell me what a screeling is doing out of the underworld.”

Zedd sighed and at last nodded. “Your former Lord Rahl was meddling with dangerous magic. Underworld magic. He tore the veil between this world and the underworld.”

“Bloody fool. He’s supposed to serve us, not take us into eternal night. Someone should have killed him.”

“Someone did. Richard.”

Trimack grunted. “Then Lord Rahl is already serving us.”

“A few days ago, some would have viewed that thought as treason.”

“It is a greater treason to deliver the living to the dead.”

“Yesterday you would have killed Richard to keep him from harming Darken Rahl.”

“And yesterday he would have killed me to get at his foe. But now we serve each other. Only a fool walks into the future backward.”

Zedd nodded and offered a small, but warm, smile of respect, but then his eyes narrowed as he leaned closer. “If the veil is not closed, Commander, and the Keeper is loosed on the world, everyone will share the same fate. It won’t be just D’Hara, but the whole of the world that is consumed. From what I have read of the prophecies, Richard may be the only one who can close the veil. You just remember that, if harm tries to get a glance at Richard.”

Trimack’s eyes were ice. “Steel against steel, that he may be the magic against magic.”

“Good. You have it right.”