Wizard's First Rule

Chapter 30

“Kahlan,” Richard asked, “remember, when we were back with the Mud People, and that man said Rahl had come, riding a red demon? Do you know what he was talking about?”

They had traveled three days across the plains, with Savidlin and his hunters, then had bid him goodbye with a promise to his sad eyes to do whatever they could to find Siddin, and they had spent the past week climbing up into the high country, into the Rang’Shada, the vast spine of rock that Kahlan had said ran northeast across the back of the Midlands, and cradled in its mountains the remote place known as Agaden Reach. A place she said was surrounded by jagged peaks, like a wreath of thorns, meant to keep all away.

“You don’t know?” She looked a little surprised.

When he shook his head, she slumped down on a hump of rock to take a break. Richard slipped his pack off with a tired groan and flopped on the ground, leaning against a short rock, putting his arms back on it to stretch them into a different position. She looked different to him, now that the black and white mud had been washed off her face. He had gotten used to it over those three days.

“So what was it?” he asked again.

“A dragon.”

“A dragon! There are dragons in the Midlands? I didn’t think there really were such things!”

“Well, there are.” She frowned over at him. “I thought you knew.” He gave a single shake of his head. “I guess you wouldn’t, since Westland has no magic. Dragons have magic. I believe that’s how they fly, with the aid of magic.”

“I thought dragons were just legends, old tales.” He flicked a pebble between his thumb and second finger, watching it bounce off a boulder.

“Old tales of things remembered, maybe. Anyway, they are real enough.” With her thumbs, she lifted her hair away from the back of her neck, to cool it, and closed her eyes. “There are different kinds. Gray, green, red, and a few others, less common. The gray ones are the smallest, rather shy. The green are a lot bigger. The smartest and the biggest are the red ones. Some peoples of the Midlands keep the gray ones as pets, and for hunting. No one keeps green ones—they’re rather dumb, have bad tempers and can be quite dangerous.” Her eyelids slid open and she tilted her head to look up from under her arched eyebrows. “The red ones are something altogether different—they will fry you and eat you in a blink. And, they are smart.”

“They eat people!” Richard pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and gave a groan.

“Only if they are hungry enough, or angry enough. We wouldn’t make much of a meal for them.” When he took his hands away and opened his eyes, her green eyes were looking at him. “The thing I don’t understand is what Rahl was doing on one.”

Richard remembered the red thing in the sky that flew over him in the upper Ven Forest, just before he found Kahlan. He tossed another pebble at the boulder. “That must be how he covers so much territory.”

She shook her head slowly. “No, I mean I don’t understand why a red dragon would submit to it. They are fiercely independent, take no sides in human affairs, in fact, couldn’t care less. They would rather die than be subjugated. And they would make a good fight of it, believe me. As I said, they have magic, and could deal even the one from D’Hara quite a match, for a time anyway. Even if he threatened them with death from some of his own magic, they wouldn’t care—they would rather die than be ruled.

“They would simply fight until they killed, or were killed.” She leaned a little toward him and lowered her voice meaningfully. “The idea of one flying Rahl around on its back is very odd. It’s impossible for me to imagine anyone ruling a red dragon.”

She watched him a moment, then straightened and picked at the lichen on a rock.

“Are these dragons a threat to us?” He felt stupid asking if a dragon was dangerous.

“Not likely. I have only seen red ones up close a few times. Once, I was walking on a road, and one swooped down, close, in the field right next to me, and grabbed two cows. Carried them off, one in each claw. If we came upon one, a red one, and it was in a foul temper, I suppose it could be big trouble, but that is not very likely.”

“We have already come upon a red one,” he reminded her in a quiet voice, “and it was big trouble.”

She didn’t answer. By her expression, the memory obviously pained her as much as it did him.

“Well, there you two are!” a stranger’s voice called out.

They both jumped. Richard sprang to his feet with his hand on the sword—Kahlan was in a half crouch ready for anything.

“Sit, sit.” The old man motioned with both hands as he walked down the path toward them. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright!” His white beard shook when he laughed. “It’s just Old John, come looking for the two of you. Sit. Sit.”

His large round belly jiggled under his dark brown robes as he laughed. White hair was parted neatly down the middle, and long curly eyebrows and drooping lids shaded his brown eyes. His jolly round face wrinkled with a wide smile as he waited. Kahlan cautiously eased herself back down. Richard lowered himself partway, to sit lightly on the rock he had been leaning against. He kept his hand on his sword.

“What do you mean you have been looking for us?” Richard asked in a not entirely friendly tone.

“My old friend, the wizard, sent me looking for you . . .”

Richard jumped back to his feet. “Zedd! Zedd sent you?”

Old John held his stomach as he laughed. “How many old wizards do you know, my boy? Of course old Zedd.” He gripped his beard, pulling it a little as he peered at them with one eye. “He had important business to attend to, but he needs you, needs you with him, now. So he came and asked me if I’d go get you. Had nothing better to do, so I told him I’d do it. He told me where I’d find you. Looks like he was right, as usual.”

Richard smiled at that. “Well, how is he? Where is he, what’s he want us for?”

Old John pulled a little harder on his beard, nodding and smiling. “He told me. Told me you asked a lot of questions. He’s just fine. Thing is, I don’t know why he wants you. When old Zedd’s in a fret, you don’t ask questions, you just do as he asks. So I did. And here I am.”

“Where is he? How far?” Richard was excited about seeing Zedd again.

Old John scratched his chin and leaned forward a little. “Depends. How long you plan on standing there wagging your tongue?”

Richard grinned, then snatched up his pack, his weariness forgotten. Kahlan gave him one of her special tight-lipped smiles as they followed Old John up a rocky trail. Richard let Kahlan walk ahead of him as he watched the surrounding woods. She had told him that they weren’t far from the witch woman.

He was excited about seeing Zedd again. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, deep down inside, with worry about his old friend. He knew Adie would have taken good care of him, but she had made no promise that he would be all right. He hoped this meant Chase was well, too. He felt overwhelmed with cheer about seeing Zedd again. He had so much to tell him, to ask him. His mind raced.

“So he’s all right then?” Richard called ahead to Old John. “He’s recovered? He didn’t lose any weight, did he? Zedd can’t afford to lose any weight.”

“No,” Old John laughed without turning as he walked, “he looks the same as always.”

“Well, I hope he didn’t eat you out of your larder.”

“Not to worry, my boy. How much could one skinny old wizard eat?”

Richard smiled to himself. Zedd might be all right, but he couldn’t be fully recovered, or Old John wouldn’t have a scrap of food left.

After a couple of hours during which they hurried to keep pace with Old John, the woods became thicker, darker, the trees bigger and closer together. The trail was rocky, hard to walk over, especially at this pace. Calls of strange birds echoed from the murk. The three came to a fork in the trail. Old John took to the right without a pause and kept going. Kahlan followed him. Richard stopped, uncertain about something, but he couldn’t quite seem to squeeze it out of the back of his mind. Every time he tried, he found himself thinking again of Zedd. Kahlan heard him stop, and turned, then walked back.

“Which way to the witch woman?” he asked her.

“Left,” Kahlan answered, a note of relief in her voice because the old man had gone right. She hooked a thumb under the front of her pack’s shoulder strap and pointed with her chin to several stark spines of rock he could just see through the upper branches of the trees. “Those are some of the peaks that surround Agaden Reach.” The snow-covered caps shone brightly in the high thin air. He had never seen such inhospitable-looking mountains. Ring of thorns indeed.

Richard looked off down the left trail. It looked to be little traveled, and disappeared quickly into the thick forest. Old John stopped and turned, his hands on his hips.

“You two coming?”

Richard looked back down the left trail. They had to get the last box before Rahl did. Even if Zedd needed them, they had to find out where the box was. That was his first duty.

“Do you think Zedd could wait?”

Old John shrugged, then pulled on his beard. “Don’t know. But he wouldn’t have sent me if it wasn’t important. It’s up to you, my boy. But Zedd is this way.”

Richard wished he didn’t have to make this decision. He wished he knew if Zedd could wait. He wished he knew what Zedd wanted. Stop wishing and start thinking, he told himself.

He frowned up at the old man. “How far?”

Old John looked up at the late-afternoon sun off through the trees as he tugged some more on his beard. “If we don’t stop early, and don’t sleep late, we’ll be there by midday tomorrow.” He looked back to Richard, waiting.

Kahlan said nothing, but he knew what she was thinking. She would rather not go anywhere near Shota, and even if they went to Zedd first, it wasn’t that far, they could always come back if they had to. And maybe Zedd knew where the box was, maybe he even had the last box, and they wouldn’t have to go into Agaden Reach. It made more sense to go after Zedd. That was what she would say.

“You’re right,” he said to her.

She looked confused. “I said nothing.”

Richard gave her a big grin. “I could hear you thinking. You’re right. We’ll go with Old John.”

“I didn’t know my thoughts were that loud,” she muttered.

“If we don’t stop at all,” he called up to Old John, “we could be there before morning.”

“I’m an old man,” he complained, then sighed loudly. “But I know how anxious you are. And I know how badly he needs you.” He wagged his finger at Richard. “I should have listened when Zedd warned me about you.”

Richard laughed a little as he let Kahlan walk ahead of him. She strode fast to catch up with the old man, who was already on his way. He watched her absently as she walked, watched as she pulled a spiderweb off her face, spit some of it out of her mouth. Something nagged at him—something was wrong. He wished he could figure out what it was. He tried for a minute, but all he could think about was Zedd, how much he wanted to see him again, how he couldn’t wait to talk to him. He ignored the feeling that there were eyes watching him.

“Mostly, I miss my brother,” she said to her doll. She looked away. “They said he died,” she confided softly.

Rachel had been telling her doll her troubles for most of the day. All her troubles she could think of. When she got tears, the doll said she loved her, and it made her feel good. Sometimes it made her laugh.

Rachel put another small stick in the fire. It felt so good to be able to get warm, and have light. But she kept the fire small, just like Giller had told her. The fire kept her from being so afraid in the woods, especially at night. It would be night again soon. Sometimes there were noises in the woods at night that made her scared, made her cry. But being out here in the lonely woods was still better than being locked in the box.

“That was when I lived in that place I told you about. With the other children, before the Queen came and picked me. I liked it there a lot better than living with the Princess. They were nice to me there.” She looked over at the doll to see if she was listening. “There was a man, Brophy, who came sometimes. People said mean things about him, but he was nice to us children. He was nice, like Giller. He gave me a doll, too, but the Queen wouldn’t let me take it with me when I went to live at the castle. I didn’t care, though, because I was so sad my brother died. I heard some people say he got murdered. I know that means he got killed. Why do people kill children?”

The doll just smiled. Rachel smiled back.

She thought about the new little boy she had seen the Queen having locked up. He talked funny, and looked funny, but his presence still had reminded her of her brother. That was because he seemed so afraid. Her brother was always getting afraid, too. Rachel could always tell when her brother was getting afraid because he would fidget and squirm. She felt so sorry for the new boy—she wished she was important so she could help him.

Rachel put her hands toward the fire to warm them for a minute, then stuck one in her pocket. She was hungry. A few berries were all she had been able to find to eat. She held a big one out, offering it to her doll. The doll didn’t seem hungry, so she ate it herself, then a handful more, until they were gone. She was still hungry, but she didn’t want to look for more. The place where they grew wasn’t close, and it was getting dark. She didn’t want to be out in the woods when it was dark. She wanted to be in her wayward pine with her doll. By the warm fire—by the light.

“Maybe the Queen will be nicer when she gets her alliance, whatever that is. That’s all she talks about, how she wants her alliance. Maybe she’ll be happier then, and won’t say to chop off people’s heads. The Princess makes me go with her, you know, but I don’t like to watch, I close my eyes. Now even Princess Violet says to chop off people’s heads. She gets meaner every day. Now I’m afraid that she’ll say to chop off my head. I wish I could run away.” She looked over at her doll. “I wish I could run away and never come back. And I’d take you with me.”

The doll smiled. “I love you, Rachel.”

She picked up the doll and gave it a long hug, then kissed it on its head.

“But if we run away, Princess Violet would send the guards to find me, and then she would throw you in the fire. I don’t want her to throw you in the fire. I love you.”

“I love you, Rachel.”

Rachel hugged her doll tight, and crawled into the hay, with the doll next to her. Tomorrow she had to go back, and the Princess would be mean to her some more. She had to leave her doll when she went back, she knew, or it would get thrown in the fire.

“You’re the bestest friend I ever had. You and Giller.”

“I love you, Rachel.”

She started to worry, to worry what would happen to her doll, all alone here in the wayward pine. The doll would be lonely. What if the Princess never sent her out again—what if she somehow found out that she wanted to be sent out, and kept her in the castle just to be mean?

“Do you know what I should do?” she asked the doll as she looked up at the firelight flickering on the dark branches inside the tree.

“Help Giller,” the doll said.

She rolled over on one elbow and looked at the doll. “Help Giller?”

The doll nodded. “Help Giller.”

Rays from the setting sun ahead reflected off the layer of leaves, making the path bright and shiny between the dark mass of woods to each side. Richard could hear Kahlan’s boots scuffing across rocks hidden under the colorful mat. A light scent of rot was in the air: fallen leaves beginning to decompose in the low damp places and the thick piles in the laps of rocks, where the wind had collected them.

Even though it was getting cold, neither Richard nor Kahlan wore their cloaks, being warm from the exertion of the pace Old John was setting. Richard kept trying to think about Zedd, but his train of thought was constantly being interrupted by having to lope to keep up. The realization that he was getting winded finally made him push Zedd from his mind. But one thought wouldn’t leave him: something didn’t feel right.

At last, he allowed that caution to blossom in his mind. How could an old man be out walking him like this, yet look fresh and relaxed? Richard felt his forehead, wondering if he was sick, or had a fever. He did feel hot. Maybe he wasn’t well—maybe there was something wrong with him. They had been pushing hard for days, but not this hard. No, he felt fine, simply winded.

For a while, he watched Kahlan walking ahead of him. She, too, was having difficulty keeping up. She pulled another spiderweb off her face, then trotted to keep up. He could see that, like him, she was breathing hard. For some reason, Richard’s caution was igniting into foreboding.

He caught a brief glimpse of something off to the left, in the woods, keeping pace. Just a small animal, he thought. But it looked like something with long arms, skittering along the ground—then it was gone. His mouth felt dry. It must just be his imagination, he told himself.

He turned his attention back to Old John. The path was wide in some places, narrow in others with branches that reached in tight. When Kahlan and Richard went past, they both sometimes brushed against them, or simply pushed them out of the way. Not the old man. He stayed to the center of the trail, avoiding any errant limb, his arms clutching his cloak tightly to him.

Richard’s eye was caught by the strands of a spiderweb, glistening golden in the setting sun, stretched across the path in front of Kahlan. The web parted against her upper leg when she walked through it.

The sweat on his face instantly turned ice cold against his skin.

How could Old John not have broken the web?

He looked up and saw a branch, its tip sticking out in the path. The old man skirted it. But not the tip. The tip passed through his arm as it would pass through smoke.

Breathing faster, he glanced down at the footprints Kahlan made through an open patch of soft ground. There were none from Old John.

Richard’s left hand shot forward, seized a fistful of Kahlan’s shirt, and yanked her behind him, causing her to cry out in surprise. He tossed her backward as his right hand pulled the sword free.

Old John stopped and half turned at the sound of the sword’s ringing.

“What is it, my boy? See something?” His voice came like the hiss of a snake.

“Indeed.” Richard gripped the sword in both hands, his legs set in a defensive stance, his chest heaving. He felt the anger flooding his fear. “How is it that you don’t break spiderwebs when you walk through them, or leave footprints?”

Old John gave a slow, sly smile, appraising him with one eye. “Did you not expect that an old friend of a wizard would have special talents?”

“Maybe,” Richard said, his eyes darting left and right, checking. “But tell me, Old John, what is your old friend’s name?”

“Why, it’s Zedd.” His eyebrows lifted. “How else would I know, if he weren’t my old friend.” His cloak was pulled tightly around him. His head had sunken into his shoulders.

“I’m the one who foolishly told you his name was Zedd. Now, you tell me your old friend’s last name.” Old John watched him with a dark frown, his eyes moving slowly, appraising, measuring. Eyes of an animal.

With a sudden roar that made Richard flinch, the old man turned, his cloak flinging open. In the time it took to complete the turn, he mushroomed to twice his previous size.

An impossible nightmare came to life: fur and claws and fangs, where an old man had been an instant before.

A creature of snarl and snap.

Richard gasped as he looked up at the gaping maw of the beast. It roared and abruptly took a giant step forward. Richard took three back. He gripped the sword so hard it hurt. The woods echoed with the earsplitting cry of the thing, deep, savage, vicious. The mouth stretched wide with each roar. It leaned over him, deep-set red eyes glowing, snapping its huge teeth. Richard urgently backed up, retreating behind the sword. He took a quick glance, but didn’t see Kahlan behind him.

All at once, it came for him. Richard didn’t have a chance to swing the sword. He tripped on a root, falling backward, sprawling across the ground. He couldn’t get his breath. Instinctively, he brought the sword up to impale the thing, expecting it to fall on him.

Sharp, wet teeth reached over the sword, snapping viciously at his face. He drove the sword up, but the beast stayed clear. Furious red eyes glared at the sword. It backed away and looked toward the woods to its right. Its ears lay back as it snarled at something.

It picked up a rock twice the size of Richard’s head, put its blunt snout high in the air, took a deep breath, and with a roar squeezed the rock in its claw. Corded muscles tightened. The rock split with a loud crack that reverberated through the forest. Dust and flakes of rock tilled the air. The beast looked about, turned, and swiftly slipped into the trees.

Richard lay on his back, panting, watching the woods with wide eyes, expecting the beast to reappear. He called out Kahlan’s name. She didn’t answer.

Before he could scramble fully to his feet, something ashen, with long arms, leapt on him, knocking him to his back again. It screamed with rage. Powerful gnarled hands gripped his, trying to pry the sword from his grip. One of the arms backhanded him across the jaw, nearly slamming him senseless. Bloodless white lips curled back, exposing sharp teeth, as it howled. Bulging yellow eyes snatched glances back at him. It tried frantically to kick his face. Richard held on to the sword with all his strength, trying to twist away from the painful grip of the long fingers.

“My sword,” it snarled. “Gimme. Gimme my sword.”

Locked desperately together, the two of them rolled across the ground, leaves and sticks flying. One of the powerful hands reached back, grabbing Richard by the hair, whacking his head on the ground, aiming for a rock. With a grunt, suddenly it reached again for the hilt, pulling one of Richard’s sweating hands from the sword, slapping its own hand to the hilt with Richard’s other. Its shrill screams split the forest quiet. Sinewy fingers started clawing his left hand off the hilt—sharp nails dug into the flesh.

Richard knew he was losing. The wiry little creature, despite its size, was stronger than he was. He had to do something or he would soon lose the sword.

“Gimme,” it hissed, in a flash turning its pallid head back to his, snapping, trying to bite his face. Spaces between its teeth were packed with spongy, gray debris. Its heavy breath reeked of rot. Dark splotches covered the hairless, waxy head.

The next time they rolled across the ground, Richard desperately reached to his belt and pulled his knife. In a rush he had it to the folds of the thing’s neck.

“Please!” it howled. “No kill! No kill!”

“Then let go of the sword! Now!”

The thing slowly, reluctantly, released its grip. Richard was on his back, the putrid-smelling creature on his chest. It went limp against him.

“Please, no kill me,” it repeated in a whimper.

Richard untangled himself from the disgusting creature, laying it on its back. He put the point of the sword hard against its chest. Its yellow eyes went wide.

The anger from the sword, which had somehow seemed confused and lost, at last charged into him.

“If I even think you’re about to do something I don’t like”—Richard jabbed—“I’ll push. Understand?” It nodded vigorously. Richard leaned closer. “Where did your friend go?”

“Friend?”

“That big thing that almost had me before you did!”

“The Calthrop. Not friend,” it whined. “Lucky man. Calthrop kills at night. Was waiting till night. To kill you. It has power in the night. Lucky man.”

“I don’t believe you! You were with it.”

“No,” it winced. “I only followed. Till it kills you.”

“Why?”

Bulging eyes went to the sword. “My sword. Gimme. Please?”

“No!”

Richard looked around for Kahlan. Her pack lay on the ground a short distance behind him, but he didn’t see her. Suddenly Richard was cold with worry. His eyes swept the area in quick jerks. He knew the Calthrop didn’t have her—it had gone into the woods alone. He continued to hold the point of the sword against the creature on the ground while he yelled out her name, hoping she would return his desperate calls. No answer.

“Mistress has the pretty lady.”

Richard’s face snapped back to the yellow eyes. “What’re you talking about?”

“Mistress. She took pretty lady.” Richard pushed the sword harder, indicating that he wanted to hear more, and right now. “We were following you. Watching the Calthrop play with you. To see what would happen.” His bulging yellow eyes went to the sword again.

“To steal the sword,” Richard glared.

“Not steal! Mine! Gimme!” Its hands started to go for it again until Richard pushed the sword a little, making the creature freeze.

“Who’s your mistress?”

“Mistress!” it shook, pleading for rescue. “Mistress is Shota.”

Richard’s head twitched back a little. “Your mistress is the witch woman, Shota?”

The creature nodded vigorously.

His hand tightened on the hilt. “Why did she take the pretty lady?”

“Don’t know. Maybe, to play with her. Maybe, to kill her.” The thing peered up at him. “Maybe, to get you.”

“Turn over,” Richard said. The creature cringed. “Turn over, or I’ll run you through!”

It flipped over, trembling. Richard leaned his boot into the small of its back, below the sharp, raised projections of its spine. He reached in his pack, pulling out a length of rope. He ran a loop with a slip knot around its neck.

“Do you have a name?”

“Companion. I am Mistress’s companion. Samuel.”

Richard pulled him to his feet—leaves stuck to the gray skin of his chest. “Well, Samuel, we’re going after your mistress. You’re going to lead the way. If you make one wrong move, I’ll snap your neck with this rope. Understand?”

Samuel nodded quickly, then, giving a sidelong glance at the rope, nodded slowly. “Agaden Reach. Companion take you there. No kill me?”

“If you take me there, to your mistress, and if the pretty lady is all right, I won’t kill you.”

Richard put tension to the rope to let Samuel know who was in charge, then put away the sword.

“Here, you carry the pretty lady’s pack.”

Samuel snatched the pack out of Richard’s hands. “Mine! Gimme!” Big hands started rummaging through it.

Richard gave a sharp tug on the rope. “That doesn’t belong to you. Keep your hands out of it!”

Bulging yellow eyes filled with hate looked up at him. “When Mistress kills you, then Samuel eats you.”

“If I don’t eat you first,” Richard sneered. “I’m pretty hungry. Maybe I’ll have a little Samuel stew along the way?”

The look of hate changed to a look of wide, yellow-eyed terror. “Please! No kill me! Samuel take you to Mistress, to pretty lady. Promise.” He put the pack to his shoulder and took a few steps, until he ran out of slack. “Follow Samuel. Hurry,” he said, wanting to prove his worth alive. “No cook Samuel, please,” he muttered over and over as they went back down the trail.

Richard couldn’t begin to imagine what sort of creature Samuel was. There was something familiar, unsettling, about him. He wasn’t very tall, but he was powerfully strong. Richard’s jaw still throbbed from where Samuel had hit him, and his neck and head ached from having his head pounded on the ground.

Long arms nearly reached the ground as Samuel walked along in an odd waddle, muttering over and over that he didn’t want to be cooked. Short, dark pants held up with straps were all he wore. His feet were as disproportionately large as his hands and arms. His belly was round and full, with what, Richard could only wonder. There was no hair on him anywhere, and his skin looked as if it hadn’t been in the sunlight in years. From time to time, Samuel would snatch up a stick, or a rock, and say “Mine! Gimme!” to no one in particular, only to soon lose interest and drop his latest find.

Keeping a sharp eye on both the woods and Samuel, Richard followed the companion, prodding him to move faster. He was afraid for Kahlan, and he was furious at himself. Old John, or the Calthrop, whatever it was, had completely taken him in. He couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. He had fallen for the story because he had wanted to believe, had wanted so badly to see Zedd. The very thing he had always told others not to do. And there he was, giving the monster the information it then repeated back to him as proof. He was furious at how stupid he had been. He was also painfully ashamed.

People believe things because they want to, he had told Kahlan, and so had he, and now the witch woman had her. The very thing she had been so afraid of, and because he had been so stupid, had let his guard down. It seemed that every time he let his guard down, she was the one who paid the price. If the witch woman harmed Kahlan, she would find out what the wrath of a Seeker was all about, he vowed to himself.

Once again he reprimanded himself. He was letting his imagination get away from him. If Shota wanted to kill her, she would have done so on the spot. She wouldn’t be taking her back to Agaden Reach. But why take her back to the Reach? Unless, as Samuel put it, she wanted to play with her. Richard tried to put that thought out of his mind. It had to be him she wanted, not Kahlan. That was probably why the Calthrop left so quickly—the witch woman had scared it off.

When they reached the fork they had passed before, Samuel took them immediately down the left path. It was getting dark, but the companion didn’t slow. The trail started climbing up steep switchbacks, and soon they were out of the trees, onto an open trail across the rock, climbing steadily toward the jagged, snow-covered peaks.

In the moonlit snow, Richard could see two sets of footprints, one of them Kahlan’s. A good sign, he thought—she was still alive. It didn’t look like Shota intended to kill her. At least not right away.

Skirting the bottom of the snowcaps, the path led over the bottom fringes of the snow, which was wet, heavy, and hard to walk through. Without Samuel leading the way, knowing where this pass was, Richard realized it would take days to make it over these peaks. The cold wind whipped through the gaps in the rock, pulling away long thin clouds of their breath in the frigid air. Samuel was shivering. Richard put on his cloak, then pulled Kahlan’s out of the pack Samuel was carrying.

“This belongs to the pretty lady. You may wear it, for now, to keep warm.”

Samuel snatched the cloak out of his hands. “Mine! Gimme!”

“If you’re going to be like that, then I won’t let you wear it.” Richard pulled the rope taut and yanked the cloak back.

“Please! Samuel cold,” he whined. “Please? Wear the pretty lady’s cloak?”

Richard handed it back. This time the companion took it slowly, and put it around his shoulders. The little creature made Richard’s skin crawl. He took out a piece of tava bread and ate it as they walked along. Samuel kept looking over his shoulder, watching Richard eat. When he could stand it no longer, Richard offered Samuel a piece.

The big hands reached out. “Mine! Gimme!” Richard pulled the bread back, out of reach. Pleading yellow eyes looked up at him in the moonlight. “Please?” Richard carefully put the bread into his eager hands.

Samuel made small talk as he they trudged through the snow. He had eaten the bread in one bite. Richard knew if given the chance, Samuel would slit his throat without a second thought. He seemed to be a creature devoid of any redeeming qualities.

“Samuel, why does Shota keep you around?”

He looked back over his shoulder, his yellow eyes set in a puzzled frown. “Samuel companion.”

“And won’t your mistress be angry with you for leading me to her?”

Samuel made a gurgling sound that Richard took for laughter. “Mistress not afraid of Seeker.”

Near dawn, at the edge of a descent into a dark wood, Samuel’s long arm pointed downward. “Agaden Reach,” he gurgled. He looked back over his shoulder with a taunting grin. “Mistress.”

The heat was oppressive in the wood. Richard took off his cloak and put it in his pack, then stuffed Kahlan’s back in hers. Samuel watched without protest. He seemed happy, confident, to be back in the Reach. Richard pretended he could see where they were going, not wanting to give the companion any idea that he was almost blind in the thick darkness. Richard let himself be guided along by the rope, like a blind man. Samuel loped along as if it were bright as midday. Whenever he turned his hairless head back to Richard, his yellow eyes shone like twin lanterns.

As the light of dawn slowly suffused the wood, Richard could begin to see large trees all about, trailers of moss wafting down, boggy patches with vapor rising from the black, murky water, pairs of eyes that watched and blinked from the shadows. Hollow calls echoed through the mist and vapor as he stepped carefully over the tangle of roots. The place reminded him a little of the Skow Swamp. It smelled just as rank.

“How much farther?”

“Close.” Samuel grinned.

Richard took up the slack on the rope. “Just remember, if anything goes wrong, you die first.”

The grin faded from the bloodless lips.

Here and there in the mud Richard could see the same pair of footprints that he had seen in the snow. Kahlan was still walking. Dark forms followed, keeping to the shadows, the thick brush, sometimes letting out whoops and howls. Richard wondered, and worried, if they were more things like Samuel. Or worse. Some followed in the treetops, just beyond sight. Despite his best efforts to halt it, a shiver went up his spine.

Samuel skirted off the path, around the twisted roots of a squat, fat-trunked tree.

“What’re you doing?” Richard asked, pulling the companion to a halt.

Samuel grinned back at him. “Watch.” He picked up a stout stick, big as his wrist, and threw it with an underhand swing into the roots of the tree. The roots whipped out, knotting around the stick, pulling it under the tangled mass. Richard heard it snapping apart. Samuel gurgled with laughter.

As the sun climbed higher, the woods of Agaden Reach seemed to become even darker. Dead branches twisted together overhead, and mist occasionally drifted across their way. At times Richard couldn’t even see Samuel on the other end of the wet rope. But always he could hear things: scratching, clawing, whistling, things clicking at them from just out of sight. Sometimes the mist twirled and spun at the passing of creatures darting by, near but unseen.

Richard remembered what Kahlan had said: they were going to die. He tried to put the thought out of his head. She had told him she had never met the witch woman, only heard others speak of her. But what she had heard had terrified her. Those who went in never came out. Not even a wizard would go into Agaden Reach, she had said. But still, it was secondhand knowledge—she hadn’t ever met Shota. Maybe the stories were exaggerated. His eyes scanned the menacing, forbidding woods. And maybe not.

From ahead, through the tangles mass of trees, came light, sunlight, and the sound of rushing water. The farther they went, the brighter it became. Soon they reached the edge of the dark wood. The trail simply ended. Samuel gurgled with glee.

Spread out far below was a long valley, green, bright, lit by the sun. Gigantic rocky peaks soared almost straight up all around it. Fields of golden grasses among stands of oak, beech, and maple set in rich autumn colors rippled in the breeze. In the dark forest where they stood, it felt like standing in night, looking out on day. Water tumbled off the rocks beside them, down the vertical drop, disappearing soundlessly through the air until it reached the clear pools and streams below, where it made a distant roar and a hiss. Spray drifted up past them, wetting their faces.

Samuel pointed down into the valley. “Mistress.”

Richard nodded and had him move on. Samuel led them through a labyrinth of brush, tight trees, and fern-covered boulders, to a place Richard would never have found without his little guide: a trail hidden behind rocks and vines, at the edge of the precipice, leading down the wall of the valley. As they descended, the trail offered panoramic views of the beautiful country below: the trees looking small in patches over the gentle hills, the streams meandering among the fields and banks, the sky a bright blue overhead.

In the center of it all, set among a carpet of grand trees, was a beautiful palace of breathtaking grace and splendor. Delicate spires stretched into the air, wispy bridges spanned the high gaps between towers, stairs spiraled around turrets. Colorful flags and streamers atop every point snapped lightly and flew lazily in the wind. The magnificent palace seemed to be reaching joyously to the sky.

Richard stood silent for a moment, mouth agape, staring, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. He loved his home of Hartland, but there was no place there to compare to this. This was, quite simply, the most beautiful place he had ever seen. He never would have imagined that a vision of such exquisite loveliness even existed.

The two of them started off again, down the valley’s edge. In places, there were steps, thousands of them, cut from the stone of the wall, twisting, tunneling and turning downward, sometimes spiraling back on themselves, going underneath the ones above. Samuel sprang down them as if he had done it a thousand times before. He was obviously thrilled to be home again, near the protection of his mistress.

At the bottom, in the sunlight, a road led off through the tree dotted hills and warm grass fields. Samuel bounded along in his odd gait, gurgling to himself. Richard took in the slack once in a while to remind him who still held the other end of the rope.

As they crossed the valley floor, following a clear stream for a time, moving ever closer to the palace, the trees became a little thicker, closer together, each a magnificent specimen, shading road or field from the bright sun. The road took them gently uphill. At the top of a rise, the trees seemed as if they were gathered, sheltering, surrounding a place before them. Richard could see the spires of the palace off through the branches ahead.

They entered a shady, still, enveloping cathedral of trees.

Richard could hear the gentle sound of water running through mossy rock. Hazy streamers of sunlight penetrated the quiet, muted area. There was the sweet smell of grass and leaves.

Samuel’s arm stretched out. Richard looked where he pointed, to the center of the open, sheltered place. There sat a rock—water bubbling up from a spring in its center ran down the sides into a little stream dotted with rich, green, mossy rocks. A woman in a long white dress, soft brown hair, with her back to him, sat on the edge of the rock, in the dappled sunlight, running her fingers through the clear water. Even from the back, she looked somehow familiar.

“Mistress,” Samuel said, glassy-eyed. He pointed again, off to the side of the road, closer to them. “Pretty lady.”

Richard could see Kahlan standing stiffly. There was something odd about her. Something was on her, moving. Samuel turned his blotchy head back, pointing a long gray finger at the rope. He looked up at Richard with one yellow eye.

“Seeker promises,” he said in a low growl.

Richard untied the rope, took Kahlan’s pack off the companion’s shoulder, and laid it on the ground. Samuel curled his bloodless lips up at Richard, hissing, then abruptly skittered off into the shadows, sitting in a squat to watch.

Richard swallowed hard as he walked to Kahlan, a tight knot in his stomach. With a jolt, he saw at last what it was that was moving on her.

Snakes.

Kahlan was covered by a writhing mass of snakes. The ones he recognized were all poisonous. Big, fat ones were wrapped around her legs, one coiled tightly around her waist, constricting—others were wrapped around her arms, which hung at her sides.

Small snakes squiggled, tunneling through her thick hair, flicking their tongues out—others curled around her neck—still more slithered down the front of her shirt, poking their heads out between the buttons. He struggled to control his breathing as he approached her. His heart was pounding. Tears ran down Kahlan’s cheeks, and she shook the slightest bit.

“Be still,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’ll get them off.”

“No!” she whispered back. Her eyes, wide with panic, met his. “If you touch them, or if I move, they will bite me.”

“It’s all right,” he tried to reassure her, “I’ll get you out of this.”

“Richard,” she said in a pleading whisper, “I’m dead. Leave me. Get out of here. Run.”

He felt as if an invisible hand were constricting his throat. In her eyes, he could see how she was struggling to control her panic. He tried to look as calm as he could, to hearten her. “I’m not leaving you,” he breathed.

“Please, Richard,” she whispered hoarsely, “for me, before it’s too late. Run.”

A thin, poisonous banded viper, its tail coiled in her hair, dropped its head down in front of her face. The red tongue flicked at her. Kahlan closed her eyes, and another tear ran down her cheek. The snake wriggled around the side of her face, down over her collarbone. The banded body disappeared into her shirt. She gave out the slightest whimper.

“I’m going to die. You can’t save me now. Please, Richard, save yourself. Please. Run. Run while you still have a chance.”

Richard was afraid she would move deliberately, to be bitten, to try to save him, thinking he then would have no reason to stay. He had to convince her that that would do no good. He gave her a sober look.

“No. I came here to find out where the box is. I’m not leaving until I know. Now be still.”

She opened her eyes wide at what the snake was doing in her shirt. She bit her bottom lip—her eyebrows wrinkled together. Richard swallowed back dryness in his mouth.

“Kahlan, just hold on. Try to think of something else.”

In a rage, he strode over to the woman sitting on the rock with her back still to him. Something inside warned him not to pull the sword, but he could not, would not, hold back his anger at what she was doing to Kahlan. He breathed through gritted teeth.

When he reached her, she stood and gently turned to him, speaking his name in a voice he recognized.

His heart leapt into his throat when he saw the face that matched the voice.