Faith of the Fallen (5 page)

“Before they came, he had told me that he was going to make them all chase after him. As Lord Rahl ran, the one who thought he would cut your throat yelled at the others to ‘get Richard, and finish him this time.’ Lord Rahl had hoped he would draw them all away from you, but when that one went after you instead, Lord Rahl gave me a look and I knew what he wanted me to do.”

Cara clasped her hands behind her back as she scrutinized the gathering darkness, keeping watch, should anyone try to surprise them. Kahlan’s thoughts turned to Richard, and what it must have been like, all alone as they chased him.

“How many men?”

“I didn’t count them.” Cara shrugged. “Maybe two dozen.”

“And you left Richard alone with two dozen men chasing after him? Two dozen men intent on killing him?”

Cara shot Kahlan an incredulous look. “And leave you unprotected? When I knew that toothless brute was going after you? Lord Rahl would have skinned me alive if I had left you.”

Tall and lean, shoulders squared and chin raised, Cara looked as pleased as a cat licking mouse off its whiskers. Kahlan suddenly understood: Richard had entrusted Cara with Kahlan’s life; the Mord-Sith had proven that faith justified.

Kahlan felt a smile stretch the partly healed cuts on her lips. “I just wish I’d known you were standing there the whole time. Now, thanks to you, I won’t need the wooden bowl.”

Cara didn’t laugh. “Mother Confessor, you should know that I would never let anything happen to either of you.”

Richard appeared out of the shadows as suddenly as he had vanished. He stroked the horses reassuringly. As he moved down beside them, he quickly checked the neck collars, the trace chains, and the breaching to make sure it was all secure.

“Anything?” he asked Cara.

“No, Lord Rahl. Quiet and clear.”

He leaned in the carriage and smiled. “Well, as long as you’re awake, how about I take you for a romantic moonlight ride?”

She rested her hand on his forearm. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Not a scratch.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His smile vanished. “They tried to kill us. Westland has just suffered its first casualties because of the influence of the Imperial Order.”

“But you knew them.”

“That doesn’t entitle them to misplaced sympathy. How many thousands have I seen killed since I left here? I couldn’t even convince men I grew up with of the truth. I couldn’t even get them to listen fairly. All the death and suffering I’ve seen is ultimately because of men like this—men who refuse to see.

“Their willful ignorance does not entitle them to my blood or life. They picked their own path. For once, they paid the price.”

He didn’t sound to her like a man who was quitting the fight. He still held the sword, was still in the grip of its rage. Kahlan caressed his arm, letting him know that she understood. It was clear to her that even though he’d been justly defending himself, and though he was still filled with the sword’s rage, he keenly regretted what he’d had to do. The men, had they been able to kill Richard instead, would have regretted nothing. They would have celebrated his death as a great victory.

“That was still perilous—making them all chase after you.”

“No, it wasn’t. It drew them out of the open and into the trees. They had to dismount. It’s rocky and the footing is poor, so they couldn’t rush me together or with speed, like they could out here on the road.

“The light is failing; they thought that was to their advantage. It wasn’t. In the trees it was even darker. I’m wearing mostly black. It’s warm, so I’d left my gold cape behind, here in the carriage. The little bit of gold on the rest of the outfit only serves to break up the shape of a man’s figure in the near-dark, so they had an even harder time seeing me.

“Once I took down Albert, they stopped thinking and fought with pure anger—until they started seeing blood and death. Those men are used to brawls, not battles. They had expected an easy time murdering us—they weren’t mentally prepared to fight for their own lives. Once they saw the true nature of what was happening, they ran for their lives. The ones left, anyway. These are my woods. In their panic, they became confused and lost their way in the trees. I cut them off and ended it.”

“Did you get them all?” Cara asked, worried about any who might escape and bring more men after them.

“Yes. I knew most of them, and besides, I had their number in my head. I counted the bodies to make sure I got them all.”

“How many?” Cara asked.

Richard turned to take up the reins. “Not enough for their purpose.” He clicked his tongue and started the horses moving.

Richard rose up and drew his sword. This time, when its distinctive sound rang out in the night, Kahlan was awake. Her first instinct was to sit up. Before she even had time to think better of it, Richard had crouched and gently restrained her with a reassuring hand. She lifted her head just enough to see that it was Cara, leading a man into the harsh, flickering light of the campfire. Richard sheathed his sword when he saw who Cara had with her: Captain Meiffert, the D’Haran officer who had been with them back in Anderith.

Before any other greeting, the man dropped to his knees and bent forward, touching his forehead to the soft ground strewn with pine needles.

“Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us,” Captain Meiffert beseeched in sincere reverence. “In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

When he had gone to his knees to recite the devotion, as it was called, Kahlan saw Cara almost reflexively go to her knees with him, so ingrained was the ritual. The supplication to their Lord Rahl was something all D’Harans did. In the field they commonly recited it once or, on occasion, three times. At the People’s Palace in D’Hara, most people gathered twice a day to chant the devotion at length.

When he’d been a captive of Darken Rahl, Richard, often in much the same condition as Tommy Lancaster just before he died, had himself been forced to his knees by Mord-Sith and made to perform the devotion for hours at a time. Now, the Mord-Sith, like all D’Harans, paid that same homage to Richard. If the Mord-Sith saw such a turn of events as improbable, or even ironic, they never said as much. What many of them had found improbable was that Richard hadn’t had them all executed when he became their Lord Rahl.

It was Richard, though, who had discovered that the devotion to their Lord Rahl was in fact a surviving vestige of a bond, an ancient magic invoked by one of his ancestors to protect the D’Haran people from the dream walkers. It had long been believed that the dream walkers—created by wizards to be weapons during that ancient and nearly forgotten great war—had vanished from the world. The conjuring of strange and varied abilities—of instilling unnatural attributes in people—willing or not, had once been a dark art, the results always being at the least unpredictable, often uncertain, and sometimes dangerously unstable. Somehow, some spark of that malignant manipulation had been passed down generation after generation, lurking unseen for three thousand years—until it rekindled in the person of Emperor Jagang.

Kahlan knew something about the alteration of living beings to suit a purpose—Confessors were such people, as had been the dream walkers. In Jagang, Kahlan saw a monster created by magic. She knew many people saw the same in her. Much as some people had blond hair or brown eyes, she had been born to grow tall, with warm brown hair, and green eyes—and the ability of a Confessor. She loved and laughed and longed for things just the same as those born with blond hair or brown eyes, and without a Confessor’s special ability.

Kahlan used her power for valid, moral reasons. Jagang, no doubt, believed the same of himself, and even if he didn’t, most of his followers certainly did.

Richard, too, had been born with latent power. The ancient, adjunct defense of the bond was passed down to any gifted Rahl. Without the protection of the bond to Richard—the Lord Rahl—whether formally spoken or a silent heartfelt affinity, anyone was vulnerable to Jagang’s power as a dream walker.

Unlike most other permutations conjured by wizards in living people, the Confessor’s ability had always remained vital; at least it had until all the other Confessors had been murdered by order of Darken Rahl. Now, without such wizards and their specialized conjuring, only if Kahlan had children would the magic of the Confessors live on.

Confessors usually bore girls, but not always. A Confessor’s power had originally been created for, and had been intended to be used by, women. Like all other conjuring that introduced unnatural abilities in people, this, too, had had unforeseen consequences: a Confessor’s male children, it turned out, also bore the power. After it had been learned how treacherous the power could be in men, all male children were scrupulously culled.

Kahlan bearing a male child was precisely what the witch woman, Shota, feared. Shota knew very well that Richard would never allow his and Kahlan’s son to be slain for the past evils of male Confessors. Kahlan, too, could never allow Richard’s son to be killed. In the past, a Confessor’s inability to marry out of love was one of the reasons she could emotionally endure the practice of infanticide. Richard, in discovering the means by which he and Kahlan could be together, had altered that equation, too.

But Shota didn’t simply fear Kahlan giving birth to a male Confessor; she feared something of potentially far greater magnitude—a male Confessor who possessed Richard’s gift. Shota had foretold that Kahlan and Richard would conceive a male child. Shota viewed such a child as an evil monster, dangerous beyond comprehension, and so had vowed to kill their offspring. To prevent such a thing from being required, she had given them the necklace to keep Kahlan from becoming pregnant. They had taken it reluctantly. The alternative was war with the witch woman.

It was for reasons such as this that Richard abhorred prophecy.

Kahlan watched as Captain Meiffert spoke the devotion a third time, Cara’s lips moving with his. The soft chant was making Kahlan sleepy.

It was a luxury for Kahlan to be able to be down with Richard and Cara in the sheltered camp, beside the warmth of the fire, rather than having to stay in the carriage, especially since the night had turned chilly and damp. With the litter they could move her more easily and without causing her much pain. Richard would have made the litter sooner, but he hadn’t expected to have to abandon the house he had started to build.

They were far off the narrow, forsaken road, in a tiny clearing concealed in a cleft in a steep rock wall behind a dense expanse of pine and spruce. A small meadow close by provided a snug paddock for the horses. Richard and Cara had pulled the carriage off the road, behind a mass of deadfall, and hidden it with spruce and balsam boughs. No one but a D’Haran bonded to their Lord Rahl had much of a chance of ever finding them in the vast and trackless forest.

The secluded spot had a fire pit Richard had dug and ringed with rocks during a previous stay, nearly a year before. It hadn’t been used since. A protruding shelf of rock about seven or eight feet above them prevented the light of the campfire from shining up the rock wall, helping keep the camp hidden. Its slope also kept them snug and dry in the drizzle that had begun to fall. With a fog closing in, too, it was as protected and secure a campsite as Kahlan had ever seen. Richard had been true to his word.

It had taken more like six hours than four to reach the campsite. Richard had proceeded slowly for Kahlan’s sake. It was late and they were all tired from a long day of traveling, to say nothing of the attack. Richard had told her that it looked like it might rain for a day or two, and they would stay in the camp and rest up until the weather cleared. There was no urgency to get where they were going.

After the third devotion, Captain Meiffert came haltingly to his feet. He clapped his right fist to the leather over his heart in salute. Richard smiled and the two men clasped forearms in a less formal greeting.

“How are you doing, Captain?” Richard grasped the man’s elbow. “What’s the matter? Did you fall off your horse, or something?”

The captain glanced at Cara, to his side. “Ah, well, I’m fine, Lord Rahl. Really.”

“You look hurt.”

“I just had my ribs…tickled, by your Mord-Sith, that’s all.”

“I didn’t do it hard enough to break them,” Cara scoffed.

“I’m truly sorry, Captain. We had a bit of trouble earlier today. Cara was no doubt worried for our safety when she saw you approaching in the dark.” Richard’s eyes turned toward Cara. “But she still should have been more careful before risking injuring people. I’m sure she’s sorry and will want to apologize.”

Cara made a sour face. “It was dark. I’m not about to take any foolish chances with the life of our Lord Rahl just so—”

“I would hope not,” Captain Meiffert put in before Richard could reprimand her. He smiled at Cara. “I was once kicked by a stalwart warhorse. You did a better job of putting me down, Mistress Cara. I’m gratified to find Lord Rahl’s life is in capable hands. If sore ribs are the price, I willingly accept it.”

Cara’s face brightened. The captain’s simple concession disarmed a potentially nettlesome situation.

“Well, if the ribs bother you, let me know,” Cara said dryly, “and I’ll kiss them and make them better.” In the silence, as Richard glowered at her, she scratched her ear and finally added, “Anyway, sorry. But I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“As I said, a price I willingly pay. Thank you for your vigilance.”

“What are you doing here, Captain?” Richard asked. “General Reibisch send you to see if the Lord Rahl is crazy?”

Although it was impossible to tell in the firelight, Kahlan was sure that the man’s face turned scarlet. “No, of course not, Lord Rahl. It’s just that the general wanted you to have a full report.”

“I see.” Richard glanced down at their dinner pot. “When’s the last time you ate, Captain? You look a little drawn, besides having sore ribs.”

“Well, ah, I’ve been riding hard, Lord Rahl. I guess yesterday I must have eaten something. I’m fine, though. I can have something after—”

“Sit down, then.” Richard gestured. “Let me get you something hot to eat. It will do you good.”

As the man reluctantly settled down on the mossy ground beside Kahlan and Cara, Richard scooped some rice and beans into a bowl. He cut a big piece of bannock from what he’d left to cool on the griddle off to the side of the fire. He held the bowl out to the man. Captain Meiffert saw no way to prevent it, and was now mortified to find himself being served by none other than the Lord Rahl himself.

Richard had to lift the food toward him a second time before he took it. “It’s only some rice and beans, Captain. It’s not like I’m giving you Cara’s hand in marriage.”

Cara guffawed. “Mord-Sith don’t marry. They simply take a man for a mate if they wish him—he gets no say in it.”

Richard glanced up at her. Kahlan knew by Richard’s tone that he hadn’t meant anything by the comment—but he didn’t laugh with Cara. He knew all too well the truth of her words. Such an act was not an act of love, but altogether the opposite. In the uncomfortable silence, Cara realized what she’d said, and decided to break some branches down and feed them to the fire.

Kahlan knew that Denna, the Mord-Sith who had captured Richard, had taken him for her mate. Cara knew it, too. When Richard would sometimes wake with a start and cling to her, Kahlan wondered if his nightmares were of things imaginary or real. When she kissed his sweat-slicked brow and asked what he had dreamed, he never remembered. She was thankful for that much of it.

Richard retrieved a long stick that had been propped against one of the rocks ringing the fire. With his finger, he slid several sizzling pieces of bacon off the stick and into the captain’s bowl, and then set the big piece of bannock on top. They had with them a variety of food. Kahlan shared the carriage with all the supplies Richard had picked up along their journey north to Hartland. They had enough staples to last for a good long time.

“Thank you,” Captain Meiffert stammered. He brushed back his fall of blond hair. “It looks delicious.”

“It is,” Richard said. “You’re lucky: I made dinner tonight, instead of Cara.”

Cara, proud of being a poor cook, smiled as if it were an accomplishment of note.

Kahlan was sure it was a story that would be repeated to wide eyes and stunned disbelief: the Lord Rahl himself serving food to one of his men. By the way the captain ate, she guessed it had been longer than a day since he had eaten. As big as he was, she figured he had to need a lot of food.

He swallowed and looked up. “My horse.” He began to stand. “When Mistress Cara… I forgot my horse. I need—”

“Eat your food.” Richard stood and clapped Captain Meiffert’s shoulder to keep him seated. “I was going to check on our horses anyway. I’ll see to yours as well. I’m sure it would like some water and oats, too.”

“But, Lord Rahl, I can’t allow you to—”

“Eat. This will save time; when I get back, you’ll be done and then you can give me your report.” Richard’s shape became indistinct as he dissolved into the shadows, leaving only a disembodied voice behind. “But I’m afraid I still won’t have any orders for General Reibisch.”

In the stillness, crickets once again took up their rhythmic chirping. Some distance away, Kahlan heard a night bird calling. Beyond the nearby trees, the horses whinnied contentedly, probably when Richard greeted them. Every once in a while a feather of mist strayed in under the overhang to dampen her cheek. She wished she could turn on her side and close her eyes. Richard had given her some herb tea and it was beginning to make her drowsy. At least it dulled the pain, too.

“How are you, Mother Confessor?” Captain Meiffert asked. “Everyone is terribly worried about you.”

A Confessor wasn’t often confronted with such honest and warm concern. The young man’s simple question was so sincere it almost brought Kahlan to tears.

“I’m getting better, Captain. Tell everyone I’ll be fine after I’ve had some time to heal. We’re going someplace quiet where I can enjoy the fresh air of the arriving summer and get some rest. I’ll be better before autumn, I’m sure. By then, I hope Richard will be…less worried about me, and be able to put his mind to the needs of the war.”

The captain smiled. “Everyone will be relieved to know you’re healing. I can’t tell you how many people told me that when I return they want to hear how you’re doing.”

“Tell them I said I’ll be fine and I asked for them not to worry anymore about me, but to take care of themselves.”

He ate another spoonful. Kahlan saw in his eyes that there was more to the man’s anxiety. It took him a moment before he addressed it.