Wizard's First Rule

Chapter 40

Richard touched the hilt of the sword for reassurance as he watched the four horses raising a cloud of dust that turned golden in the setting sun. Soon the sound of thundering hooves reached him. The lone rider bent over his mount, urging him on. Richard lifted the sword a little in its scabbard, checking that it was clear, then let it drop back. As the darkly clad rider approached, Richard realized he looked familiar.

“Chase!”

The boundary warden brought the horses to a skidding halt in front of them. He looked down as the dust drifted away. “You all look to be well.”

“Chase, it is ever good to see you!” Richard grinned. “How did you find us?”

He looked insulted. “I’m a boundary warden.” He thought that was explanation enough. “Find what you were after?”

“No,” Richard admitted with a sigh. He saw little arms clutching at Chase’s sides. A little face peeked around the black cloak. “Rachel? Is that you?”

Her face came farther out, a grin spreading on it. “Richard! I’m so happy to see you again. Isn’t Chase wonderful? He fought a gar and saved me from being eaten.”

“Didn’t fight him,” Chase grumbled. “Just put a bolt through his head, that’s all.”

“But you would have. You’re the bravest man I ever saw.”

With a pained frown, Chase rolled his eyes. “Isn’t she just about the ugliest child you have ever seen?” He leaned around and looked at her. “I can’t believe a gar would even want to eat you.”

Rachel giggled and hugged her arms to his sides. “Look, Richard.” She put a foot out toward him, showing off a shoe. “Chase brought down a buck. He said it was a mistake, because it was too big, so he traded it to a man, but all the man had to trade were these shoes, and this cloak. Aren’t they wonderful? And Chase says I can keep them.”

Richard grinned at her. “Yes, that is indeed wonderful.” He noticed Rachel’s doll and the bundle with the bread nestled between her and Chase. He also noticed her eyes going to Siddin, as if she had seen him before.

Kahlan put a hand on Rachel’s leg. “Why did you run off? You scared us with worry for you.”

Rachel flinched at Kahlan’s touch. She hugged one arm to Chase and thrust a hand in her pocket. She didn’t answer Kahlan’s question, but looked instead toward Siddin. “Why do you have him?”

“Kahlan rescued him,” Richard said. “The Queen had him locked up in the dungeon. That’s no place for a child, so she took him out.”

Rachel looked down at Kahlan. “Wasn’t the Queen mad?”

“I don’t allow anyone to hurt children,” Kahlan said. “Not even a queen.”

“Well, don’t just stand there staring. I brought you all horses. Mount up. I figured I’d catch you today. I have a wild boar roasting back at the place you stayed last night, just this side of the Callisidrin.”

With one hand on the saddle and the other arm holding Siddin, Zedd leapt to a horse. “Wild boar! What kind of fool are you? Leaving a wild boar roasting unprotected! Anyone could just come along and take it!”

“Why do you think I want you to hurry? The place is filthy with wolf tracks, though I doubt they’d come near a fire.”

“Don’t you dare hurt that wolf,” Zedd warned. “He’s a friend of the Mother Confessor.”

Chase cast an eye to Kahlan, then to Richard, before turning his horse and leading them into the setting sun. Richard was heartened by having Chase back. It made him feel, once again, that anything was possible. After she had mounted, Kahlan took Siddin, the two of them talking and laughing as they rode.

At the camp, Zedd wasted no time before checking the roasting boar, and pronounced it fit to eat. He shifted his robes and sat down, waiting with a grin on his wrinkled face for someone with a knife to carve dinner. Siddin, with a grin frozen on his face, too, leaned against Kahlan after she sat down. Richard and Chase started carving up the boar. Rachel sat close to Chase’s side, watching him, keeping an eye to Kahlan, her doll in her lap, and the loaf of bread, wrapped in the cloth, at her hip.

Richard cut a big piece and handed it to Zedd. “So, what happened? With my brother, I mean.”

Chase grinned. “When I told him the things you told me to tell him, he said that if you were in trouble, he was going to help. He pulled together the army, and we sent most of them into defensive positions along the boundary, with the wardens commanding them. After the boundary came down he refused to wait behind. He led a thousand of his best men into the Midlands. They’re all bivouacked up in the Rang’Shada right now, waiting to help you.”

Richard had stopped carving, frozen in astonishment. “Really? My brother said that? He came to help? And with an army?”

Chase nodded. “He said if you’re in this, then he is too.”

Richard felt a pang of regret that he had doubted Michael, and elation that his brother would drop everything to come help. “He wasn’t angry?”

“I thought sure he would be, and give me grief over this, but he only wanted to know about you, what risk you were at, and where you were. He said he knew you, and if you thought it was this important, then he did too. He offered to come along, but I wouldn’t let him. He’s with his men, probably waiting in his tent right now, pacing back and forth. I have to tell you, it surprised me too.”

Richard’s eyes were wide in wonder. “My brother and a thousand of his men, in the Midlands, come to help me.” He looked at Kahlan. “Isn’t that wonderful?” She only smiled at him.

Chase gave him a stern look while he carved. “For a while, I thought you were finished, when I saw your trail going into Agaden Reach.”

Richard looked up. “You went into the Reach?”

“Do I look stupid? You don’t become head of the boundary wardens by being stupid. I started thinking of how I was going to tell Michael you were dead. Then I found your trail coming out of the Reach.” His brow wrinkled together. “How did you manage to come out of the Reach alive?”

Richard gave him a grin. “I think the good spirits . . .”

Rachel screamed.

Richard and Chase spun with their knives. Before Chase could use his knife, Richard stopped him.

It was Brophy. “Rachel? Is that you, Rachel?”

She took her doll’s foot from her mouth. Her eyes were wide. “You sound like Brophy.”

The wolf’s tail swished back and forth. “That’s because I am Brophy!” He trotted over to her.

“Brophy, how come you’re a wolf?”

He sat on his haunches in front of her. “Because a kind wizard changed me into a wolf. That was what I wanted to be, and he changed me.”

“Giller changed you into a wolf?”

The breath caught in Richard’s throat.

“That’s right. It’s a wonderful new life I have.”

She threw her arms around the wolf’s neck. Brophy licked her face as she giggled.

“Rachel,” Richard said, “you know Giller?”

Rachel hugged an arm around Brophy’s neck. “Giller’s a nice man. He gave me Sara.” She gave a fearful look to Kahlan. “You want to hurt him. You’re the Queen’s friend. You’re mean.” She pushed against Brophy for protection.

Brophy gave her face a long lick. “You’re wrong, Rachel. Kahlan is my friend. She is one of the nicest people in the world.”

Kahlan smiled and held her hands out to Rachel. “Come here.”

Rachel looked to Brophy, who gave her a nod that it was all right. She went with a pout on her face.

Kahlan took Rachel’s hands in hers. “You heard me say something mean about Giller, didn’t you?” Rachel nodded. “Rachel, the Queen is a bad person. I didn’t know how bad until today. Giller used to be my friend. When he went to live with the Queen, I thought it was because he was bad too, and was on her side. I was wrong. I would never hurt Giller, now that I know he is still my friend.”

Rachel turned her eyes up to Richard.

“She’s telling you the truth. We’re on the same side as Giller.”

Rachel turned to Brophy. He nodded, too, that it was the truth.

“You and Richard aren’t friends of the Queen?”

Kahlan laughed a little. “No. If I have my way, she will not be the queen much longer. And as for Richard, well, he drew his sword and threatened to kill the Princess. I don’t think that makes him friends with the Queen.”

Rachel’s eyes got big. “Princess Violet? You did that to Princess Violet?”

Richard nodded to her. “She said some bad things to Kahlan, and I told her that if she did it again, I’d cut off her tongue.”

Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “And she didn’t say to chop off your head?”

“We are not going to let them chop off any more heads,” Kahlan said.

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears as she looked to Kahlan. “I thought you were mean, and that you would hurt Giller. I’m so happy you’re not mean.” She put her arms around Kahlan’s neck, hugging her tight. Kahlan hugged her back just as tight.

Chase leaned toward Richard. “You pulled a sword on a Princess? Do you know that’s a capital offense?”

Richard gave him a cool look. “If I had had the time, I would have put her over my knee and spanked her too.” Rachel giggled at that. Richard smiled at her. “You know the Princess, don’t you?”

The laughter left her. “I’m her playmate. I lived in a nice place with other children, but after my brother died, the Queen came and picked me out, to be the Princess’s playmate.”

Richard turned to Brophy. “He was the one?” The wolf nodded solemnly. “So you lived with the Princess. She’s the one who cut your hair all crooked, isn’t she? She hits you.”

Rachel nodded with a pout. “She’s mean to people. She’s starting to say to chop off people’s heads. I was afraid she would chop off my head too, so I ran away.”

Richard eyed the loaf of bread she kept at her hip. He squatted down next to her. “Giller helped you run away, didn’t he?”

She was near tears. “Giller gave me Sara. He wanted to run away with me. But then a mean man came. Father Rahl. He looked real mad at Giller. Giller told me to run, and to hide until winter, then to find a new family to live with.” A tear ran down her cheek. “Sara told me he couldn’t come with me anymore.”

Richard glanced again at the loaf of bread. It was about the right size. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Rachel. Zedd, and Kahlan, and Chase, and I, are fighting against Darken Rahl, so that he won’t be able to hurt people anymore.”

She turned her head back to Chase.

Chase nodded. “He’s telling you the truth, child. You tell him the truth too.”

He tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Rachel, did Giller give you that loaf of bread?” She nodded. “Rachel, we were going to Giller to get a box, a box to help us stop Darken Rahl from hurting people. Will you give it to us? Will you help us stop Rahl?”

Her watery eyes looked at him—then with a brave smile, she picked up the bread and handed it to him. “It’s in the loaf of bread. Giller hid it in there with magic.”

Richard threw his arms around her, nearly hugging the breath out of her. He stood, hugging her to him, and spun in circles until she giggled. “Rachel, you are the bravest, smartest, prettiest girl I have ever known!” When he set her down, she ran to Chase and crawled into his lap. He mussed her hair and put his big arms around her as she smiled and hugged him.

Richard picked up the loaf of bread in both hands. He held it out to Kahlan. She smiled and shook her head. He held it to Zedd.

“The Seeker found it,” Zedd smiled. “The Seeker should open it.”

Richard broke the bread open, and there inside was the jeweled box of Orden. He wiped his hands on his pants, pulled the box out, and held it up to the firelight. He knew from the Book of Counted Shadows that the glittering box they saw was only a covering for the real box underneath. He even knew from the book how to remove the cover.

He put the box in Kahlan’s lap. As she picked it up, she gave him the biggest smile he had ever seen. Before he even knew what he had done, he had leaned over and given Kahlan a quick kiss. Her eyes went wide, and she didn’t kiss him back, but the feel of her lips shocked him into realizing what he had done.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

She laughed. “Forgiven.”

Richard hugged Zedd as they both laughed. Chase laughed watching him. Richard could hardly believe that just a short time ago, he had almost given up, had no idea what to do next, where to go, or how to stop Rahl. And now they had the box.

He set it on a rock where they could all see it in the firelight while they had the best dinner Richard could ever remember. Richard and Kahlan told Chase some of what they had been through. To Richard’s delight, Chase was disturbed to learn that he owed his life to Bill, back at Southaven. Chase told them some of his own stories of bringing an army of a thousand men across the Rang’Shada. He enjoyed telling drawn-out tales of the foolishness of bureaucracy in the field.

Rachel cuddled in Chase’s lap while she ate and he talked. Richard thought it was interesting that she chose the most fearsome among them for comfort. When at last he finished his story, she looked up and asked, “Chase, where should I go, to hide until winter?”

He regarded her with a glower. “You’re too ugly to be left to wander about. A gar would eat you sure.” That made her laugh. “I have other children, they’re all ugly too. You’ll fit right in. I guess I’ll take you to live at my house.”

“Really, Chase?” Richard asked.

“I’ve come home enough times and had my wife present me with a new child. I think it’s about time I turned affairs about on her.” He looked down at Rachel, who clung to him as if he might float away. “But I have rules, you know. You have to follow my rules.”

“I’ll do anything you say, Chase.”

“Well, there you go, that’s the first rule. I don’t allow any of my children to call me Chase. If you want to be a member of my family, you have to call me Father. And about your hair, it’s too short. My children all have long hair and I like it that way. You’ll have to let your hair grow out some. And you’ll have a mother. You’ll have to mind her. And you’ll have to play with your new brothers and sisters. Do you think you can do all that?”

She nodded against him, unable to talk as she hugged him, tears glistening in her eyes.

They all excitedly ate their fill. Even Zedd seemed to have had enough. Richard felt exhausted, and at the same time full of energy, to finally have the box in their hands. They had done the hard part, they had found the box before Rahl. Now they had only to keep it from him until winter.

“We have been weeks in this quest,” Kahlan said. “The first day of winter is a month away. Earlier today, that seemed scarcely enough time to get the box. Now that we have it, it seems forever. What shall we do until it is finished?”

Chase spoke up first. “We have all of us to protect the box, and we have a thousand men to protect us. When we get back across the border, we will have many times that.”

She looked at Zedd. “Do you think that’s wise? We would be easy to find, a thousand men, I mean. Would it not be better to hide somewhere, by ourselves?”

Zedd leaned back and rubbed his full stomach. “We could hide better by ourselves, but we would also be more vulnerable, if discovered. Perhaps Chase is correct. There would be a lot of protection among a force that large, and if we had to, we could still leave them and go to cover.”

“We better get an early start,” Richard said.

It was barely light when they were off, the horses to the road, Brophy to woods, shadowing them, or at times scouting ahead. Chase, bristling with weapons, led them at a trot, Rachel holding him tight. Kahlan, back in her forest garb, and with Siddin sitting at her lap, rode next to Zedd. Richard had insisted that Zedd carry the box—it was wrapped in the cloth that held the bread before, and tied to the horn of his saddle. Richard followed behind, watching everything as they rode quickly into the cold morning air. Now that they had the box, he felt suddenly vulnerable, as if somehow everyone would know, just by looking at them.

Richard could hear the waters of the Callisidrin before they rounded the curve to the bridge. He was glad to see the road deserted. Chase spurred his horse to a gallop as he approached the big wooden bridge, the rest of them giving a heel to their horses to keep pace. Richard knew what Chase was doing. The boundary warden had always told him that bridges were the bane of the unwary. Richard watched in every direction as the other three galloped across in front of him. He saw nothing.

In the exact center of the bridge, at a full gallop, he ran solidly into something that wasn’t there.

Stunned, Richard sat up, dumbfounded at finding himself on the ground, and seeing his big roan running with the other horses, then stopping with them as they halted and turned. The others looked back in confusion as Richard, still dazed and bewildered, rose painfully to his feet. He brushed himself off and started limping to retrieve his horse. Before he reached the center of the bridge, he smacked into it again. It felt like walking into a stone wall, but there was nothing there. He found himself sitting on the ground again. The others were around him this time as he got to his feet.

Zedd was off his horse, holding its reins in one hand, and helping Richard with the other. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know,” Richard managed. “It felt like I ran into a wall, right in the center of the bridge. I must have just fallen off, that’s all. I think I’m all right now.”

Zedd looked around and led him forward with a hand on his elbow. Before going far, he hit it again, but this time he had been moving slowly and wasn’t knocked from his feet, only back a few steps. He took one slow step forward, and came in contact with it again. Zedd gave a serious frown. Richard put his hands out, feeling the solid form of the smooth wall that wouldn’t let him pass but would let the rest of them through. The touch of it made him feel dizzy and sick. Zedd walked back and forth through the invisible barrier.

The wizard stood where the unseen wall stood. “Walk back to the end of the bridge, then walk to me.”

Richard felt the lump on his forehead as he walked back to the end of the bridge. Kahlan jumped off her horse, next to Zedd. Brophy came up beside her, to see what the trouble was. This time, as he walked, Richard held his hands out in front of himself.

Before he was halfway back, he made solid contact, and could go no farther, having to back away from the sickening feeling at its touch.

Zedd rubbed his chin. “Bags!”

The rest of them came to Richard, since he couldn’t come to them. Zedd led him forward again. When he made contact, he backed away a little.

Zedd took Richard’s left hand. “Touch it, with your other hand.”

Richard did as he was told until the sick feeling made him withdraw his hand. Zedd seemed to feel it, through Richard. By now, they were at the foot of the bridge. Every touch of the thing had made it move back the way they had come.

“Bags! And double bags!”

“What is it?” Richard demanded.

Zedd took a glance to Kahlan and Chase before he spoke. “It’s a keeper spell.”

“What’s a keeper spell?”

“It’s a spell drawn by that filthy artist, James. He’s drawn it around you, and then when you touched it the first time, it activated the spell. Once you touch it, it pulls tighter, like a trap. If we don’t get it off you, it will shrink until you are all that’s in it, and then you won’t be able to move.”

“Then what?”

Zedd straightened. “The touch of it is poison. When it finishes closing around you, like a cocoon, it will crush you, or the poison of it will kill you.”

Kahlan grabbed the sleeve of Zedd’s robes, panic in her eyes. “We have to go back! We have to get it off him!”

Zedd pulled his arm free. “Well, of course we do. We’ll find the drawing and erase it.”

“I know where the sacred caves are,” Kahlan offered as she grabbed hold of her saddle and put a foot in the stirrup.

The wizard turned to retrieve his horse. “We don’t have any time to waste. Let’s go.”

“No,” Richard said.

They all turned back to stare at him.

“Richard, we have to,” Kahlan said.

“She’s right, my boy. There’s no other way.”

“No.” He looked at their startled faces. “That’s what they want us to do. You said the artist couldn’t spell you or Kahlan, so he did it to me, thinking that would get us all back. The box is too important. We can’t take the risk.” He looked to Kahlan. “You just tell me where these caves are, and Zedd, you tell me how to erase the spell.”

Kahlan grabbed the reins of her horse and Richard’s, pulling them forward. “Zedd and Chase can protect the box, I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not! I’m going alone. I have the sword to protect me. The box is all that matters, it is our first responsibility. We must protect it above all else. Just tell me where the caves are, and how to fix the spell. When I’m finished, I’ll catch up with you.”

“Richard, I think . . .”

“No! This is about stopping Darken Rahl, not about any one of us. This is not a request, it’s an order!”

They straightened, Zedd turning to Kahlan. “Tell him where the caves are.”

Kahlan angrily handed the reins of her horse to Zedd and snatched up a stick. She drew a map in the dirt of the road, pulling the stick along one of the lines she had drawn. “This is the Callisidrin, and here, the bridge. This is the road, and here, Tamarang and the castle.” She drew the line of a road to the north of the city. “Here, in these hills northeast of the city, there is a stream that runs between twin hills. They’re about a mile south of a small bridge that crosses the stream. The twin hills have cliffs on the sides toward the stream. The sacred caves are in the cliff on the northeast side of the stream. That is where the artist draws his spells.”

Zedd took the stick from her and broke off two finger-length pieces. He rolled one between his palms. “Here. This will erase the curse. Without seeing it, I can’t tell you what part you must erase, but you should be able to figure it out. It’s a drawing and you will be able to make some sense of it. That is the whole purpose of a drawn spell—you must be able to make sense of it, or it won’t work.”

The stick Zedd had rolled in his palms no longer felt like wood. It felt soft and tacky. Richard put it in his pocket. Zedd rolled the other piece in his palms. He handed it to Richard, it too no longer a stick. This time it was black, almost like charcoal, but hard.

“With this,” the wizard said, “you can draw on the spell, and change it if you have to.”

“Change it how?”

“I can’t tell you without seeing it. You’ll have to use your own judgment. Now, hurry. But I still think we should . . .”

“No, Zedd. We all know what Darken Rahl is capable of. The box is all that is important, not any one of us.” He shared a deep look with his old friend. “Take care of yourself. And Kahlan.” He looked up to Chase. “Get them to Michael. Michael will be able to protect the box better than we can alone. And don’t hold back, waiting for me. I’ll catch up.” Richard gave him a hard stare. “If I don’t, I don’t want any of you coming back for me. You just get the box away from here. Understand?”

Chase gave him a serious look. “On my life.” He gave Richard brief instructions to find the Westland army, up in the Rang’Shada.

Richard looked to Kahlan. “Take care of Siddin. Don’t worry, I’ll be back with you soon enough. Now get going!”

Zedd mounted his horse. Kahlan handed Siddin over to the wizard. She gave Chase and Zedd a nod. “Go on, get started. I will catch up in a few minutes.”

Zedd started to protest, but she cut him off and told him again to start ahead. She watched the two horses and the wolf gallop across the bridge and down the road before she turned back to Richard.

Concern cut deeply into her features. “Richard, please, let me . . .”

“No.”

She nodded and handed him the reins to his horse. Tears were filling her green eyes. “There are dangers in the Midlands you know nothing about. Be careful.” A tear ran down her cheek.

“I’ll be back with you before you have time to miss me.”

“I’m afraid for you.”

“I know. But I’ll be all right.”

She looked up at him with eyes he could lose himself in. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.

Kahlan threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Hard, fast, desperate.

For a moment as he reached his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, the touch of her lips on his, the little moan that came from her, and the feeling of her fingers through the back of his hair made him forget his own name.

He was in a daze as he watched her put a boot in the stirrup and throw her other leg over the saddle. She pulled the reins, bringing her horse around close to him.

“Don’t you dare do anything stupid, Richard Cypher. Promise me.”

“I promise.” He didn’t tell her that he thought letting harm reach her was what he considered stupid above all else. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back with you just as soon as I get rid of this spell. Protect the box. Rahl must not get it. That’s what matters. Now, get going.”

He stood holding the reins of his horse, watching her gallop across the bridge and disappear into the distance.

“I love you, Kahlan Amnell,” he whispered.

With an encouraging pat to the splotch of gray on the roan’s neck, Richard headed the big horse off the road after crossing the small bridge, and spurred it along the bank of the stream. The horse ran with ease, splashing its hooves in the shallow water when the brush blocked the way along the bank. Sunlit hills, mostly barren of trees, rose up around the stream. As the banks became steeper, he led the horse up along the higher ground, where it could make easier progress. Richard kept a watch for anyone following, or observing, but saw no one. The hills seemed deserted.

Chalk white cliffs rose up to either side of the stream, cleft faces on identical hills straddling the water. Richard was off the horse before it stopped. Looking about, he tethered it to a sumac whose red fruit were already dried and shriveled. His boots slid on the loose ground as he descended the steep bank. There was a narrow foot trail through the slide of rock and dirt. Following it brought him to the tall mouth of a cave.

With a hand on the hilt of the sword, he peeked around the opening, checking for the artist, or anyone else. There was no one. Immediately inside the cave were drawings on the walls. They covered every surface, and continued back into the darkness.

Richard was overwhelmed. There were hundreds of drawings, maybe thousands. Some were little, no bigger than his hand—some were larger, tall as he. Each depicted a different scene. Most had only one person in them, but a few had many people. It was obvious that they had been drawn by different hands. Some were delicately rendered, rich in detail, with shading and highlights, depicting people with broken limbs, or drinking from cups with skulls and crossed bones on them, or standing next to fields of withered crops. Others were done by someone with little talent for the task: their figures were drawings of people made of simple lines. But the scenes in these were similarly gruesome. Richard guessed that the talent of the artist was of little importance—it was the message that counted.

Richard found drawings done by different hands but of the same subject. These people might have a map of some sort around them, but around each was a line drawn in a circle, the circle having a skull and crossed bones on it somewhere.

Keeper spells.

But how was he to find his? There were drawings everywhere. He didn’t know what the drawing of his spell looked like. He searched the walls with growing panic, moving deeper into the darkness. He ran his hands over the pictures as he moved, trying to look at each, so as not to miss his. His eyes darted everywhere, overwhelmed by the number of spells, searching for something familiar, not knowing exactly what to look for, or where.

Richard worked his way back into the darkness, reasoning that maybe there was an end to the drawings, and maybe the latest were at the end. It was too dark to see. He went toward the mouth of the cave to retrieve reed cane torches he had seen there.

Before he had gone far, he ran smack into the invisible wall. With rising panic, he realized that he was trapped in the cave. He was running out of time. The torches were out of reach.

He ran back into the darkness, searching. He had trouble seeing the spells, and still there was no end to them. A thought he definitely didn’t like came to him.

If there be need enough. The night stone.

With no time to lose, he pulled the leather pouch from his pack. He looked at it in his hand, trying to decide if this would be a help, or simply more trouble. Trouble he couldn’t handle. He thought about the times he had seen the stone out of the pouch. Each time, it had taken a while for the shadow things to come. Maybe if he just pulled it out for a short time, had a look into the darkness, and then put the stone back—he would have the time he needed before the shadows found him. He didn’t know if it was a good idea.

If there be need enough.

He dumped the stone into his hand. Light filled the cave. Richard wasted no time looking at individual drawings, but instead quickly went deeper, looking for where they ended. From the corner of his eye, he saw the first shadow materialize. It was still a ways off. He kept going.

At last, he came to the end of the drawings. The shadows were almost upon him. He thrust the stone back in the leather pouch. In the darkness, he held his breath, eyes wide, expecting the painful touch of death. It didn’t come. The only light was a dim glow with a bright spot in the center, the entrance, but it didn’t provide enough light to see the drawings. He knew he would have to take out the stone again.

First, with his fingers, he searched through his pocket, and found the soft, tacky piece of stick Zedd had given him. With it firmly in hand, he pulled the stone out again. The light blinded him for a second. His head swiveled around, looking.

Then he saw it. The man in the drawing was as tall as he, but the rest of the drawing was larger still. It was crude, but he knew it was him. The sword held in the right hand had the word Truth written on it. There was a map around the figure, similar to the one Kahlan had drawn on the ground. On one side, the line around the outside edges went down the Callisidrin and across the center of the bridge. That was where he had run into it.

The shadows called his name. He looked up to see hands reaching for him. He thrust the stone into the pouch and pressed his back against the wall, over his drawing, listening to his heart pounding in his ears. In dismay, he realized that the drawing was too large for him to erase the entire circle around him. If he only erased part of it, he had no way of knowing where the gap would be, or how to make the gap where he was in the cave.

He backed away, to prepare himself to get a better look the next time he pulled the stone out. He bumped into the invisible wall. His heart felt as if it skipped a beat. The wall was almost around him. He had no time.

He pulled the stone out and immediately started erasing the sword, hoping that would take away his identity, take the spell off him. The lines erased only with great difficulty. He backed away a step, to look, and hit the wall. The shadows reached for him, calling his name seductively.

He dumped the stone back into the pouch and stood in the blackness, breathing hard, near panic at the feeling of being trapped. He knew he couldn’t use the sword to fight the shadow things while he worked on the drawing—he had fought the shadows before and it took everything he had. His mind raced. He couldn’t think of what to do. He had erased the sword, and that didn’t work. The spell must still recognize him. He knew there wasn’t enough time to erase the line all the way around him. His breath came in a desperate pant.

There was flickering light. He spun around. A man holding one of the reed torches came closer, an oily smile on his face. It was James, the artist.

“I thought I might find you here. I came to watch. Anything I can do to help?”

By his laugh, Richard knew James wasn’t about to help him. James also knew that with the wall between them Richard couldn’t use the sword on him. He laughed at Richard’s helplessness.

Richard cast a quick glance sideways. The torch gave enough light for him to see the drawing. The invisible wall pushed at his shoulder, pushed him toward the wall. A wave of nausea and dizziness went through him at the touch. He was only a step away from the cave wall as it was. In moments, he would be encased, crushed, or poisoned.

Richard spun to the drawing. While he worked with one hand, he searched his pocket with the other. He pulled out the stick Zedd had told him he could use to alter the drawing.

James leaned forward with a chuckle, watching him work.

The chuckle stopped. “What are you doing there?”

Richard didn’t answer as he erased the right hand on the figure.

“Stop that!” James yelled.

Richard ignored him and kept erasing. James threw the torch on the ground and pulled out a drawing stick of his own. The artist started drawing in fast slashing strokes, strands of his greasy hair whipping around as he worked. He was drawing a figure. He was drawing another spell. Richard knew that if James finished first, there would be no second chance.

“Stop that, you fool!” James yelled as he raced to complete his drawing.

The unseen wall pressed up against Richard’s back, forcing him against the wall of the cave. He barely had room to move his arms. James was drawing a sword, starting to write the word Truth.

Richard took his drawing stick and, with a line, connected the sides of the wrist on the figure, making a stump. Just like the one James had.

As he finished it, the pressure on his back lifted, and the sick feeling left.

James screamed.

Richard turned to see him writhing on the floor of the cave, folding himself into a ball as he vomited. Richard shuddered and picked up the torch.

The artist’s pleading eyes came up to him. “I . . . wasn’t going to let it kill you . . . only trap you . . .”

“Who had you do this spell on me?”

James gave a wicked little smile. “The Mord-Sith,” he whispered. “You are going to die . . .”

“What’s a Mord-Sith?”

Richard heard the breath being squeezed from him, bones snapping. James was dead. Richard couldn’t say he was sorry.

Richard didn’t know what a Mord-Sith was, but he didn’t want to wait around to find out. Suddenly he felt alone and vulnerable. Zedd and Kahlan both had warned him that there were many things in the Midlands, many creatures of magic, that were dangerous, that he knew nothing about. He hated the Midlands, the magic. He just wanted to get back to Kahlan.

Richard ran toward the cave entrance, dropping the torch along the way. Running out into the bright sunlight, shielding his eyes, he came to a halt. Squinting, he saw a ring of people around him. Soldiers. They wore uniforms of dark leather and mail, swords over their shoulders, battle axes at their wide belts.

At their lead, facing the cave, facing him, was someone different, a woman, with long auburn hair pulled back into a loose braid. She was sheathed in leather from neck to ground, cut to fit like a glove. Blood-red leather. The only deviation from the blood red of it was a yellow crescent and star across her stomach. Richard saw that the men wore the same crescent and star on their chests, only theirs was red. She watched him with no emotion except the slightest wisp of a smile.

Richard stood with his feet spread defensively, his hand on the hilt of the sword, not knowing what to do, without a clue to their intent. Her eyes gave a little flick, looking above and behind him. Richard heard two men drop from the cliff wall to the ground behind him. He could feel the anger of the sword racing urgently into him through his hand on the hilt. He held it at full rage as he gritted his teeth.

The woman snapped her fingers at the men behind him, then pointed at him. “Take him.” He heard the sound of steel being drawn.

That was everything Richard needed to know. The commitment had been made.

Bringer of death.

His sword came out in an arc as he spun. He let the anger loose with a vengeance. It exploded through him. His eyes met those of the two men. Their jaws were set in a rage of their own as their swords cleared the scabbards over their shoulders.

Richard kept the Sword of Truth low. Waist height, with all his weight and strength behind it. Their swords came down defensively. He screamed with lethal rage. Lethal hate. Lethal need. He gave himself completely over to the lust to kill, knowing anything less would be the end of him. His sword tip whistled.

Bringer of death.

Shards of hot, shattered steel spiraled through the clear, morning air.

Twin grunts. At impact, twin, wet thwacks, like ripe melons hitting the ground. Insides turned out in long red ropes. The top halves of their bodies tumbled as the legs collapsed.

The sword continued around, tracing its route with strings of blood. He refocused the rage, the hate, the need. She commanded them. Richard wanted her lifeblood. The magic surged through him unhindered. He was still screaming. She stood with a hand on her hip.

Richard met her eyes, made a slight alteration to the course of the sword so it too would meet them. Her widening smile only fed the violent fire of his wrath. Their eyes locked together. The sword tip whistled around toward her head. His need to kill was beyond retrieval.

Bringer of death.

The pain of the sword’s magic hit him like a waterfall of icy water on naked flesh. The blade never reached her. The sword clattered to the ground as the pain took him to his knees, ripping through him, doubling him over.

Hand still on her hip, smile still on her face, she stood over him, watching as he clutched his arms across his abdomen, vomiting blood, choking on it. Fire burned through every inch of him. The pain of the magic consumed him, took his breath from his lungs. Desperately, he tried to get a grip on the magic, tried to put away the pain as he had learned to do before. It did not respond to his will. With rising panic, he realized he no longer had control of it.

She did.

He collapsed to his face in the dirt, trying to scream, to breathe, but couldn’t. He thought about Kahlan for an instant—then the pain took even that from him.

Not one of the men moved from the circle. The woman put a boot on the back of his neck and an elbow on her knee as she leaned over. With her other hand she grabbed a fistful of his hair and lifted his head. She leaned closer, the leather creaking.

“My, my,” she hissed. “And here I thought I was going to have to torture you for days and days before I finally made you angry enough to use your magic against me. Well, not to worry, I have other reasons to torture you.”

Through his pain, Richard realized he had made a fearful mistake. He had somehow given her the control of the sword’s magic. He knew he was in more trouble than he had ever been in in his life. Kahlan was safe, he told himself—that was all that mattered.

“Do you want the pain to stop, my pet?”

The question enraged him. His anger at her, his want to kill her, twisted the pain tighter. “No,” he managed with all of his strength.

She shrugged, dropping his head. “Fine by me. But when you decide you want the pain of the magic to stop, all you have to do is stop thinking those nasty thoughts about me. From now on, I control the magic of your sword. If you so much as think of lifting a finger against me, the pain of the magic will take you down.” She smiled. “That is the only pain you will have any control over. Just think something pleasant about me, and it will stop.

“Of course, I too will have control over the pain of the magic, and can bring it to you any time I choose, and I can bring you other pain too, as you will learn.” She frowned. “Tell me, my pet, did you try to use the magic on me because you are a fool, or because you fancy yourself as brave?”

The pain let up the smallest bit. He gasped for air. She had relaxed it just enough to allow him to answer.

“Who . . . are . . . you?”

She took a fistful of his hair again, lifted his head, twisted it around to look into his eyes. As she leaned over, the boot on his neck sent a shard of pain through his shoulders. He couldn’t move his arms. Her face was wrinkled in a frown of curiosity.

“You don’t know who I am? Everyone in the Midlands knows me.”

“I’m . . . Westland.”

Her eyebrows lifted in delight. “Westland! My, my. How delicious. This is going to be fun.” Her smile widened. “I am Denna. Mistress Denna to you, my pet. I am a Mord-Sith.”

“I’ll not . . . tell you . . . where Kahlan is. You might as well . . . kill me . . . now.”

“Who? Kahlan?”

“The . . . Mother Confessor.”

“Mother Confessor,” she said with distaste. “Why in the world would I want a Confessor? It is you, Richard Cypher, that Master Rahl sent me for, no one else. One of your friends has betrayed you to him.” She twisted his head up harder, pushed her boot down harder. “And now I have you. I had thought it might be difficult, but you hardly made it any fun at all. I’m to be in charge of your training. But then you wouldn’t know about that, since you are from Westland. You see, a Mord-Sith always wears red when she’s to train someone. That’s so your blood won’t show so much. I have a wonderful feeling I’m going to have a lot of your blood on me before I have you trained.”

She dropped his head, and leaned her full weight on her boot, holding her hand out in front of his face. He could see that the back of her gloved hand was armored, even the fingers. A blood red leather rod, about a foot long, hung loosely from her wrist by an elegant gold chain. It swung back and forth in front of his eyes. “This is the Agiel. This is part of what I will use to train you.” She gave him a smooth smile, arching an eyebrow. “Curious? Want to see how it works?”

Denna pressed the Agiel against his side. The shock of the pain made him cry out, even though he had had no intention of giving her the satisfaction of seeing how much it hurt. Every muscle in his body locked rigid with the agony of the thing against his side. His mind was filled with the want of having it off him. Denna pushed the slightest bit harder, making him scream louder. He heard a pop, and felt a rib crack.

She took the Agiel away—warm blood oozed down his side. Richard was covered in sweat as he lay in the dirt, panting, tears running from his eyes. He felt as if the pain were pulling every muscle in his body apart. There was dirt in his mouth, and blood.

Denna gave him a cruel sneer. “Now, my pet, say ‘Thank you, Mistress Denna, for teaching me.’ ” Her face came closer. “Say it.”

With all his mental strength, Richard focused his hunger to kill her, and envisioned the sword exploding through her head. “Die, bitch.”

Denna shuddered and half closed her eyes, running her tongue over her lip in ecstasy. “Oh, that was a deliciously naughty vision, my pet. Of course, you will learn to be seriously sorry you did it. Training you is going to be exquisite fun. Too bad you don’t know what a Mord-Sith is. If you did, you would be very afraid. I would enjoy that.” Her smile showed her perfect teeth. “But I think I’m going to delight in surprising you even more.”

Richard maintained the vision of killing her until he was unconscious.