The Third Kingdom

CHAPTER 72

Richard paced the length of his cell, going back and forth in the light from the soft green luminescence of the veil over the opening where he had come in. He could do nothing other than pace in frustration.

When Vika had taken him to the cell after they had cut him and used his blood to resurrect Emperor Sulachan, Richard had asked her what they were going to do with him. She had smiled in that profoundly disturbing way that only a Mord-Sith could and told him that she would be spending time with him while the others would likely be given to the half people, who were eager to devour them for their souls.

He supposed that after that, the unholy half dead would be coming for him as well. He had imagined it a thousand times over, and then another thousand. He had tried to come up with some way he might escape once they lifted the veil and came for him. He could think of nothing that had even the remotest chance to work. He knew that they would flood in and overwhelm him.

He was beyond distressed and upset waiting for the unknown. He wanted out. If he was going to die, he at least wished he could somehow recover his sword and die fighting. Better that than the end they had planned for him.

If he could get to his sword, he might be able to at least kill the newly risen dead king. He thought that, if he could get to his sword, he might even have a chance to kill Hannis Arc. He spent a lot of time trying to decide which one he would rather kill, if he could only kill one. Without his gift working, at least with his sword he wouldn’t die helpless.

But he couldn’t do anything—including trying to get to his sword—unless he could find a way to get out of the prison cell. He had thought for a time that maybe Vika would choose to help him, in some little way, at least. But he had not seen her since she had left him after the ceremony.

He wondered why. As he paced hour after hour, he was left to contemplate what Hannis Arc was really up to. He must have some grand goal in mind. Richard could understand the spirit of Sulachan wanting to come back to the world of the living in order to try to implement his plans. Naja’s account had been pretty emphatic about what he wanted to do.

Richard glanced down at the ring that Magda Searus had left for him. He knew what Sulachan wanted. He wanted to break the Grace.

Richard went back to pacing. He knew what Sulachan wanted, but what was Hannis Arc’s role? He was not the kind to be a sycophant to a spirit king. He had to have a plan of his own, something he wanted for himself. Richard knew that people like Hannis Arc only wanted one thing: power. The symbols tattooed all over the man spoke to the lengths to which he would go in order to obtain that power. He was deeply involved in the darkest of occult conjuring.

Of course, with the war ended and the world at peace—at least until the barrier containing the half people had failed and Hannis Arc brought their king back—the only real power left was the D’Haran Empire. By getting Richard out of the way, that made it pretty obvious what Bishop Arc’s intent had to be.

He wanted to be Lord Arc and rule the D’Haran Empire.

Throughout his waiting and pacing, Richard had regularly gone to every opening covered by a green veil. At each he had called out, hoping to get in contact with Zedd again, or with anyone. He wished he knew if they were still alive, still all right. He shouted until he nearly lost his voice. He never received an answer. There was no one imprisoned near him.

He tried not to take that as a bad sign.

He went back to wondering what Hannis Arc and the spirit king were doing. He wondered if they had already left. If Hannis Arc hadn’t already left, he surely would have already come down to gloat, to torment Richard.

Richard wondered if maybe he was being kept around as a source of fresh blood in case Sulachan’s corpse needed a bit of freshening from time to time. Maybe the emperor was waiting to see if he would need more blood. Maybe they didn’t know, and were keeping Richard for the time being, just in case.

Richard wanted nothing more than to have Sulachan come down to get that blood. If he got any chance at all, he was going to take it. He needed to rip that walking corpse to pieces—with his bare hands if need be, with his teeth if he had to. He might not be able to harm the spirit, but if he could rip the worldly part of him to bits that might do something.

He knew that such a battle would cost him his life, but it would be worth it if he could put a stop to what was happening. Besides, he was likely going to be fed to the half people anyway.

He could feel the sword’s magic in the distance. But even though he could feel it, it was too far away to do him any good. It was like a connection waiting to be completed, waiting for him to return. He could sense where it was, but he had no way to get to it.

If it were closer, he could summon it. He was bonded to the blade, and within a certain distance he could draw the sword to hand. He had done that before—drawn it to him. But it was too far, now. Besides, it was beyond the green boundary to the underworld. Even if it were somehow close enough, and he called it to him as he had done in the past, once it fell into the underworld it would be lost forever.

He checked his arm where he had been cut. The wound had closed and was starting to heal, but it was black under the skin. He wondered if that was from the knife, or from the poison of death inside him.

He supposed that it didn’t matter. He imagined that soon enough the Shun-tuk would finally be given permission to rip him apart. They were probably only being held at bay in case Sulachan needed any more blood. The others had probably already been sacrificed. Richard’s time would come soon enough.

They would likely feed him to the half people before the poison inside ever had the chance to kill him. With grim curiosity, he wondered if that poison might kill the half people who ate him. He supposed not. They were of the third kingdom.

As he sat back against the wall, tossing small stones out of boredom, he wondered if Samantha had gotten away. He had no idea what she could do now that she was alone and so far from her home, but at least she had escaped Hannis Arc’s clutches. Of course, there was no guarantee that she had stayed out of the drifting greenish boundaries of death, or out of the clutches of the half people.

She had wanted so much to come with him, to help him, to try to rescue her mother. She had wanted to help fight the threat descending on the world. She had wanted to carry out the duty of the gifted who had been left in Stroyza. She had shown so much resolve.

He felt guilty for abandoning her, but of course he’d had no choice in the matter. Still, he felt bad. Having her run to keep her from being captured along with him was all he had been able do.

Richard slumped back against the wall, resting his forearms over his knees. He was exhausted from the captivity, the pain of the Agiel, and with worry. He was weak from lack of food.

Worse, he was getting weaker from the inner poison.

“Lord Rahl?”

Richard’s head came up. He thought he heard a voice call his name. It was distant, and rather muffled coming through the wavering, greenish underworld wall, but he thought that it sounded like Samantha’s voice.