Witch's Oath

6

Just before he reached the broad opening back out to the corridor, Richard paused, sword in hand, to carefully lean out and look in both directions. He could feel the word “TRUTH” formed by the gold and silver wire-wound hilt pressing into his palms. Blood ran down from the painful, throbbing wounds on his wrists, onto the hilt of the sword, and then down the blade to drip from the tip. His blood always made the sword’s magic lust to meet the enemy. He had often used his blood to give the sword even more motivation.

Looking out, he didn’t see any sign of the witch man. He worried how Michec might be able to hide himself in plain sight. After all, the first time Richard had seen him he had seemed to materialize out of smoke. Fortunately Richard didn’t see any smoke, either. But he had no way of knowing what other powers Michec might be able to use to hide himself.

Richard had kicked the man in the head pretty hard, but he didn’t know exactly where his boot had connected or how much damage it had done. All he knew was that he had used all his strength to do it. With the way it had knocked the man out cold, it had to have done some damage, but Richard didn’t know if it was enough.

Michec was most likely hiding somewhere nursing his injuries. Richard knew nothing about witch men and wondered if it was possible for him to heal himself. Unless the kick had done serious damage, it wouldn’t keep him down.

Someone that filled with hate and a lust for power wasn’t about to let his prey slip away, so Richard knew it wouldn’t be long before the witch man came out of nowhere to attack them. When he did, Richard knew, the man would be out for blood. But until then, he had at least a small window of opportunity to try to save Vika.

The other five Mord-Sith were still kneeling in a line in the broad opening, hands held out, their Agiel, still attached by the fine gold chains around their wrists, resting across their upturned palms. They all stared blankly ahead. Richard knew that despite their lifeless appearance, they would all feel the pain of those Agiel.

Richard didn’t believe it had been a trick that put the Mord-Sith into such a state of oblivion. This was a result of Michec’s abilities both as a witch man and as a trainer of Mord-Sith. Richard didn’t know what those abilities entailed or how he had come by them, but he knew they were very real. It was just one more cause for concern. While young women were chosen for their innocence and compassion, he suspected that trainers of future Mord-Sith were chosen for their obsession with cruelty.

All he knew for sure was that he had to get the five Mord-Sith back from that lost place before he tried to heal Vika, and he needed to hurry; Vika couldn’t last much longer.

He put his hand on the red leather on Berdine’s shoulder. She didn’t respond. She had belonged to Michec once, so his control over her would be the strongest. Through his hand on her shoulder Richard could feel the painful hum of power coursing through her from her Agiel. That power was fueled by their bond to the Lord Rahl, not Michec, and therein lay the source of his hope.

He could also sense, through that connection, that she was in pain. That pain was likely worsened by the block. It saddened him, too, to feel her hopelessness.

Richard squatted down, keeping his hand in contact with her shoulder. He knew how to heal with his gift. He had, a number of times, connected to people who were injured or sick and let his ability flow into them. He began to open that same mental gateway deep within himself.

“I am here with you, Berdine,” he said into her ear. “As Mord-Sith, your loyalty and bond are to me as the Lord Rahl for as long as you wish to serve me. No other may claim dominion or authority over you. No one. Not now, not ever. Moravaska Michec is an enemy of the D’Haran Empire and I am the leader of that empire. I now dissolve any block he placed in you and place instead the protection of my gift to block him from ever again using his power over you.”

Richard removed the rest of his own internal restraints to let the full healing force of his power rush into her so she would not only hear him, but feel him, feel his gift, feel his bond to her and hers to him, and be able to feel the raw pain of the block the witch man had left in her mind melt away into nothingness.

He stood, then, and held the point of the sword over her upturned hands to let some of his blood drip from the tip of the blade onto her palms.

“With my bond and blood oath I reclaim you from that witch.”

Berdine gasped. Her head jerked up. Her eyes came open. She blinked a moment and then shook her head as if gathering her senses, trying to understand where she was. Finally, she stared at the blood on her palms and then looked up at Richard.

“Lord Rahl …”

When Richard smiled, she suddenly shot to her feet and threw her arms around him in relief.

“You saved me! You came for me and you saved me! I knew you would.”

Richard patted her back and then pushed away. “We don’t have much time. I need to get the others back as well.”

He went to each Mord-Sith in turn and repeated the procedure until all five of them were jolted out from behind that block Michec had put in their minds. None of the others hugged him the way Berdine had, but they were all clearly thankful that he had come for them and succeeded in breaking the witch man’s hold over them.

“Where is Michec?” Rikka asked as she stood and looked both ways down the corridor.

“I don’t know,” Richard said. “We are going to need to hunt him down, but first I have to help Vika.”

“You found her, then?” Nyda asked, expectantly.

Richard nodded. “I’m afraid that the news is not good, though. He hurt her bad.”

Richard hurriedly led them back through the forest of nearly skinless corpses. The Mord-Sith all looked about dispassionately, taking in the exposed red muscles, white ligaments, and faces frozen in horror and agony. They were all familiar with Michec’s work. When they spotted Vika, though, they were clearly angry.

“Michec did this to her?” Cassia asked in a whisper as she leaned in close.

Richard nodded. “We need to help her.”

Nyda turned an incredulous look back over her shoulder at him. “Help her?” A look of sudden understanding came over her. She lowered her voice. “Oh, I see now what you mean. Lord Rahl … would you rather one of us do it, then? She is a sister of the Agiel, after all.”

Richard cocked his head. “Do what?”

Nyda looked clearly uncomfortable. “You know. End it. A quick twist of my Agiel and her suffering will be forever over.”

Richard held out his hands, forestalling any such idea. “No, no. You don’t understand. We have to heal her.”