Witch's Oath

10

Kahlan gripped the hilt of the sword tighter in both hands even though she remembered full well that it had somehow done Richard no good. If he hadn’t been able to use the sword effectively against the witch man, she didn’t know how she would be able to do any better. Still, it did make her feel better to have a weapon in her hands. She could feel the word “TRUTH” on the hilt made out of the gold wire wound through silver wire pressing against her palm. It was a reminder of all she and Richard had gone through since they met in the Hartland woods, all because of Darken Rahl, and now, all this time later, she faced one of his henchmen. It felt almost as if Darken Rahl himself was reaching out from the grave to continue to haunt them.

And like Darken Rahl, the witch man had some kind of powers that had counteracted the power in the sword and enabled him to capture Richard. She remembered Zedd telling him that the sword wouldn’t work against Darken Rahl. She could only imagine that the same protection against the Sword of Truth might extend to Michec.

Still, it was all she had, unless she could unleash her Confessor’s power on him. Not only was he keeping his distance, but it also seemed risky to attempt such a thing on someone with abilities she had never encountered before. She knew that there were rare people on whom her power had no effect, or an unpredictable effect. It could be that Michec was like that. If she had to, though, she fully intended to attempt it.

She started circling to Michec’s left to draw his attention away from Richard, Shale, and the Mord-Sith, who were all on the floor and unresponsive. It seemed that when Shale used her ability to the extent she had against the Glee, it sapped her strength until she could recover. That was something Kahlan understood all too well. When she used her power, it took her time to recover. She didn’t know what the problem was with Richard, and that worried her greatly.

For all practical purposes, she was the only protection for the others, and she was alone with this madman. By the look on his face, he clearly relished the idea of catching her by herself. As she slowly moved to the side, she watched for any opening in case she had to try to use her power on him.

She worried, too, that Michec might have had something to do with the condition of the others. The memory of being helpless with him about to skin her alive was all too fresh in her mind. Right then she felt very alone and vulnerable.

“Again with the sword?” Michec, seeming amused, arched an eyebrow over one eye. “You think yourself better with it than your husband? Well, should we see?”

He stomped a foot in her direction, bluffing that he was going to charge at her. Kahlan didn’t flinch back. Instead she thrust the sword out at him, hoping to catch him off guard. She didn’t know if the magic of the sword would work against him, but the razor-sharp blade was in itself formidable. He easily stepped back out of range of both her and the sword. Her caution kept her from following through and pressing the attack.

He grinned with menace. “Ah, a fighter. Good for you. I enjoy skinning fighters.” He gestured at all the corpses behind him. “Makes it so much more satisfying when they finally find themselves helpless. I like to look into their eyes when I begin and they know that there will be no stopping and no rescue.”

Kahlan didn’t need to imagine such terror; she had been there. She wanted nothing more than to kill this monster.

She kept the point of the blade up and at the ready. She could feel its power singing through every nerve fiber in her body. The sword wanted the man’s blood, but not as much as Kahlan did. She resolved that when he eventually came at her, she would try to run him through or use her power. What really concerned her was that he knew she was a Confessor but that didn’t seem to bother him in the least. If both the sword and her power failed to stop him, well then, at least she would not go down without a fight.

She noticed, then, as she forced herself to look into his cruel eyes, that his face didn’t look the same as she remembered. The shape was different. His features had always looked thick and blocky, but the area around his left jaw and ear appeared even thicker. She could see traces of blood left in the folds of his ear. It looked like he had wiped off blood that had been all over the side of his face.

She also saw that the filthy white robes he was wearing were stained with fresher blood up at the neck, as if it had run down onto his robes. That blood was not from a victim. It was his.

The injury had to have been from when Richard kicked the witch man in the head. She wondered just how much damage Richard had done. A kick that hard to his head, if in the right spot and if Richard had been able to make solid contact, would likely have broken the mandible. That would certainly explain why his speech sounded a little slurred, and also why he had been gone for a while. He had probably been hiding somewhere while he did what he could to repair the damage enough with his magic to keep going. As much as he tried not to show it, she could see by the way he kept his shoulder protectively forward that it was hurting him. She realized that might give her an opportunity.

But then, on the other hand, a wounded animal was more dangerous, and Michec certainly was an animal.

Together, with Michec glaring at her and Kahlan with the sword up at the ready and glaring back, they continued slowly revolving as if locked together. Michec seemed entertained by the dance as he waited for her to make the first move, or to make a mistake so he could overwhelm her.

Of course, it was also possible that he simply enjoyed the game.

As they slowly moved in unison, his dark eyes peering out from narrowed eyelids were about as intimidating as any she had ever seen. But she also thought she saw caution there. She hoped that Richard had managed to hurt the man more than she knew.

She also felt the weight of responsibility. It wasn’t just her life she was protecting; it was the twins’ and everyone else’s. If she tried something and it turned out to be the wrong move, they would all be dead.

For the moment, as she and Michec both stared each other down, each waiting for the right moment to strike, she decided that if she saw the right opening, she would have to act.

His gaze, then, flicked down to something that caught his attention. His intimidating glare took on a hint of confusion.

Kahlan glanced down, looking for what it was that had him so distracted. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“See something you don’t like?” she asked. “Thinking twice about how this blade can cut you?”

He cocked his head as he appraised her with one eye. “I see you have managed to have your wounds healed while I was … away for a time.” He arched an eyebrow. “I will soon remedy your return to good health and have you screaming your lungs out down here where no one other than your husband can hear you and no one will ever help you.”

Her wounds? She didn’t know what he was talking about.

She glanced down again, and then she saw it.

In the heat of the confrontation, she hadn’t realized that her wrists were no longer cut up and bleeding from the manacles. They were completely healed and looked as if they had never been severely gashed. She reached up just long enough to feel that the left side of her face wasn’t bruised and swollen, nor was it throbbing in pain. The cut along the side of her neck was gone as well.

He gestured behind at all the skinless corpses without taking his eyes off her. “As you can see, I have quite a talent. The time has come for me to demonstrate.”