Faith of the Fallen (79 page)

Kahlan fell back, writhing in the darkness. She clawed at her throat. He could hear her choking.

“Mother Confessor! Mother Confessor! What’s wrong?”

Richard reached up and seized Cara behind her head. He pulled her face close.

“Someone has Nicci. They’re choking her. Cara—you have to go save Nicci, or Kahlan will die. And Nicci is the only one who can heal me. Go. Hurry.”

He felt Cara nodding before he released her head.

“I understand” was all she said as she gently, but swiftly, laid him back on the cold stone.

And then she was gone.

It was wet. He didn’t know if it was blood, or water. They were underground, in the nether reaches of the Retreat. Through open beams where the flooring above hadn’t been laid, moonlight flooded down to light Kahlan struggling not far away. He could see, then, as she fought an invisible foe, that it was water. That’s what it was. Not blood. Water. The palace was next to the river. It was wet in the little rooms and halls down in the bottom.

“Kahlan,” he murmured. She didn’t respond. “Hold on…”

Gripping his abdomen, holding the wound closed lest his insides burst out, he inched his way through the water, across the cold stone. The pain had finally and firmly arrived. He could feel the terrible damage inside. He tried to blink away the tears of hot agony. He had to hold on. Icy sweat drenched his face. Kahlan had to hold on.

His hand, covered in blood, reached out to her. His fingers found hers. She hardly responded, but at least her fingers moved. He was thankful beyond words that her fingers moved.

It had been a good plan. He was sure it was. It would have worked, if only someone hadn’t snatched Nicci. Would have worked.

It seemed a stupid way to die, really. He thought it should be somehow more…grand.

Not in a dark, cold, wet palace underground.

He wished he could tell Kahlan that he loved her, and that she hadn’t killed him but that he had done it. It was his doing, not hers. He’d just used her in his plan. It would have worked.

“Kahlan,” he whispered, not knowing if in her stillness she could hear him any longer. “I love you. No one else. Just you. I’m glad we had our time together. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Richard opened his eyes and groaned in agony. He wanted it to end. It hurt too much. Now, he just wanted it to end. It hadn’t worked. He would have to pay the price. But he wanted the sickening, ripping, terrifying pain to end.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. He looked and saw Kahlan sprawled on the wet floor. She wasn’t moving.

A shadow fell across him.

“Well, well. Richard Cypher.” Neal chuckled. “Imagine that.” He chuckled again as he glanced at Kahlan. “Who’s the woman?”

Richard could sense the Sword of Truth, sense its magic. It wasn’t far from his fingers.

“Don’t know. She’s killed me. Must be one of yours.”

Richard’s fingers found the sword. They curled around the wire-wound hilt.

Neal stepped on the blade. “Can’t have any of that. You’ve caused enough trouble.”

A glow ignited around Neal’s fingers. He was conjuring magic. Lethal magic. Richard, in his barely conscious condition, despite his need, could not focus his mind, could not call forth his own ability to do anything to stop Neal. At least, the pain would end. At least, Kahlan wouldn’t think it was she who had killed him.

Richard heard a sudden, terrible, bone-snapping crack. Neal dropped heavily to his knees.

Richard, his hand already around the hilt, pulled the sword from underneath the man’s legs and in one mighty lunge, ran it through Neal’s heart.

Neal looked up in surprise, his eyes glassy. Richard saw then that the man was as good as dead before the blade had run him through. Neal’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the side as Richard yanked the sword free.

Standing behind Neal was the woman Richard had helped. She had bandaged her leg. In both hands, she held the marble hand of the woman Richard had carved. She had crushed Neal’s skull with her keepsake of the statue.

Richard heard footfalls splashing toward him down the wet hallway. The woman had gone to find help. Maybe she had found it.

In the rooms and hallways in the distance, Richard could hear occasional screams as blasts of magic exploded through the night, as people were injured and killed.

A woman appeared in the moonlight. “Richard? Richard?”

Richard squinted in the darkness. “Who are you?” he managed to whisper.

She rushed to his side and fell to her knees. She gasped at seeing Kahlan sprawled on the floor close to him.

“What happened to the Mother Confessor?”

Richard frowned. She knew Kahlan.

“Who are you?”

She looked back at him. “I’m a Sister. Sister Alessandra. I’ve been in the city for a while, looking for Nicci, and—never mind. A woman found me—just down the hall—and said you were hurt. The man who carved the statue. I was trying desperately to get to you earlier, but I couldn’t get near—there I go again. Tell me where you’re hurt. I can try to heal you.”

“I was run through with a sword.”

She was still and silent for a moment.

“Under my hands.”

She looked then, and spoke a prayer under her breath. “I think I can help. I feared—”

“I need Nicci to do it.”

Sister Alessandra glanced about. “Nicci? Where is she, then? I’ve been searching for her. Ann sent me to find her.”

Richard’s eyes fell on the still form of Kahlan. “Can you help her?”

He could see the woman’s eyes look away from his. “No, I can’t. She’s linked by magic to Nicci. I met her before, and she told me about it. I can do nothing through the shield of Nicci’s link.”

“Is she…is she still…”

The woman looked and then leaned back over him. “She’s alive, Richard.”

He closed his eyes in relief, and in pain.

“Lie still,” she said.

“But I need Nicci to—”

“You’re bleeding. This is bad, Richard. In a short time more, you will have lost too much blood. If I wait, no one will be able to heal you. You will have slipped too far beyond this world for any gift to help you. I can’t wait.

“Besides, I came to try to stop Nicci. I know her better than anyone. You can’t put your life in her hands. You can’t put your faith in her.”

“It’s not faith. I know—”

“She’s a Sister of the Dark. I’m the one who led her down that dark road. I came to try to lead her back. Until and unless that time comes, you can’t trust her. Now, you’ve not much time. Do you want to live, or not?”

It had all gone for nothing. He felt a tear run from the corner of his eye and across his cheek.

“I choose life,” he said.

“I know,” she whispered with a smile. “I saw the statue. Now, move your hands for me. I need to have mine there.”

Richard let his hands slip to his sides as hers covered his wound. He felt helpless. He could focus on nothing but the searing pain.

He felt magic tingle into him, following the damage down deep inside him. He clenched his teeth as he held in a cry.

“Hold on,” she whispered. “This is bad. It will hurt, but then in a while it will be all right.”

“I understand,” he said. He gasped sharply. “Do it, then.”

The pain of her magic seared into him like white-hot coals thrown on bare flesh. He almost cried out, but then the pain abruptly ceased. Richard lay with his eyes closed, panting, waiting for it to start again. He felt her hands slip from him.

Richard opened his eyes and saw that Sister Alessandra’s eyes were opened wide. For an instant, he wondered why.

And then he saw a foot of steel jutting from her chest. Her fingers went to her throat as blood gushed from her open mouth. A silent scream formed on her lips.

A bony hand shoved her aside.

She had been impaled on the sword Richard had used to fight Kahlan. His hand blindly went for the hilt he knew was there, but a foot kicked the Sword of Truth aside.

Death’s own skull grinned down at him.

“You are a troublesome man, Richard Cypher,” came the grating voice from the darkness above. “But at last, that trouble is ended.”

The tall angular figure in robes and a creased cap towered above him as he lay helpless on the cold wet floor.

“This little rebellion of yours will be crushed, I can promise you that much, before you die. Their foolish little tantrum will be brought to an end. The people will soon come to their senses. Your kind appeals only to the extremist fringe. Most people see their duty to their fellow man. Your efforts have been for nothing.”

Brother Narev swept his arm around, as if in introduction.

“An appropriate place for you to die, don’t you think, Richard? These rooms are the future questioning chambers. You eluded the chambers once, but not this time. You will die in one as you should have died in one before.

“I, on the other hand, will live here a long, long time, and see the Order bring morality to the world. Down here, in these chambers, radicals like you will confess their wickedness. I just wanted you to know, before you are embraced in the Keeper’s cold arms for all eternity.”

Brother Narev’s skeletal hands clawed as he called forth his magic. Richard saw white-hot light blossom around the high priest’s hands and expand downward. Richard squeezed Kahlan’s hand as he watched the white light of death come for him.

The bloom of light turned a honey color. As if the air had thickened, the light slumped off to the sides.

A howl of fury grew in Narev’s throat. His shook his fists in rage.

“You have the gift of a wizard! Who are you?”

“I am your worst nightmare. I am a thinking man who can’t be deluded by your lies, any more than I can be burned by your foul magic.”

Brother Narev tried to smash his foot down on Richard’s face, but Richard was able to deflect the blow. He seized Narev’s ankle. The man caught his balance and pulled madly to get free. The effort of holding on felt as if it ripped the wound through Richard’s insides. He tried to hold on, but his fingers slipped from the wet leather.

Once free, and out of Richard’s reach, Narev bent and seized the hilt of the sword lodged in the Sister’s back. He tugged but it didn’t come completely out. He growled in fury, his boots slipping on the slimy floor, as he yanked on the sword.

Richard knew that, once armed, Narev would be a swift executioner.

With all his strength, Richard lunged at the man’s legs. Brother Narev toppled back onto the wet floor. Richard, his middle wrenched in torture, threw himself atop Narev’s legs to hold him down. Bony fingers clawed at Richard’s face, trying to gouge his eyes. Richard turned his head away. With fierce effort, he clutched at the heavy robes, dragging himself up the man’s body, ignoring the blows to his face as he did so.

He seized Brother Narev by the throat. Brother Narev’s bony fingers closed savagely around Richard’s throat. Both men growled with the effort of trying to strangle each other to death. Richard twisted his head, trying to prevent Narev from getting a death grip, while at the same time trying to get his own thumbs over Narev’s windpipe so he could choke off his air.

Narev tried to roll, to throw Richard off. Richard spread his legs to make it harder for Narev to flip him over, and held tight as the man twisted and fought. He could feel his insides tearing.

Richard had wielded a chisel and hammer for the Order for months. He was stronger, but he was also losing a lot of blood, and that strength was fading. He squeezed with all his might. The fingers at his throat loosened a little.

The man’s eyes bulged as Richard finally managed to start to choke the life out of him. Bony hands thumped at Richard’s shoulders.

The hands suddenly and fiercely seized Richard by his hair.

Narev freed a leg and brought his knee up into Richard’s wound.

The world went white with pain.

Nicci woke, dazed, to the sound of a low, wicked laugh. She knew the voice. She knew the smell. Kadar Kardeef.

She heard a snapping, popping, hissing sound. A torch, she realized. He whipped it around in front of her face, so close she could feel the terrible heat against her flesh. Burning pitch dripped off, falling on her leg.

Nicci screamed in pain as the pitch burned into the flesh of her thigh.

“What goes around, comes around,” Kadar said in her ear.

“I don’t care what you do to me,” Nicci cried in rage. “I’m glad I burned you. I’m glad you’ve had to beg.”

“Oh you’ll be begging, too, before long. You may not think so, but you’ll be surprised what fire makes a person do. You will yet know what it was like. You will yet beg.”

With all her might, Nicci struggled against him. She could undo the spell, if only Kahlan were closer. So near, but so far.

The fire before her eyes sent terror scorching through her. She had only to snip the cord linking her to Kahlan. She could break the link. She didn’t have to undo it in order to have her power back. Nicci could escape, then. It would cost Kahlan her life, but Nicci would have her power, and she could escape the flames.

But she would have to kill Kahlan to do it.

“Shall I burn your face, first, Nicci? Your lovely face? Or maybe I should start with your legs. Which shall it be? You pick.”

Nicci panted as she struggled, trying to back away from the heat on her flesh. The hissing torch waved in front of her face. She knew she deserved such a fate, but she was driven to wild panic by the fear of it.

She didn’t want to snip the link, to kill Kahlan, but she didn’t want to die this way. She didn’t want her flesh to burn.

“I say we start at the bottom, so we can hear your screams.”

Kadar brought the torch down and touched it to the hem of her dress. Nicci screamed as the black cloth caught flame. Such fear was a new sensation for her; for the first time since she was very small, she had something she cared about, and didn’t want to lose: life.

In a moment of stark terror, Nicci knew that no matter how much it was to hurt, no matter how frightening it was to be, she would not take Kahlan’s life. Richard had given her the answer she had sought. She had taken too much already. In return for that lesson, she could not now violate it.

Even though Kahlan, linked to Nicci, was to suffer the same fate, would die the same agonizing death, Nicci would not be the one who inflicted it. She would not take Kahlan’s life from her. Kadar would be bringing their death, but Nicci would not. She would not kill Kahlan to save herself.

Kadar Kardeef laughed as he watched her dress ignite. He held her in a firm grip Nicci could not escape.

Just then, a dark shape flew at her from midair, crashing into them both. They tumbled back, the air all around filled with fire. As Nicci rolled, it put the flaming dress out in the water.

The one who had crashed into them was just getting up, shaking her head as if to clear it. Nicci recognized her. It was the Mord-Sith, Cara.

Kadar sat up, saw the woman, and lunged at her with the torch.

Nicci threw herself at Kadar, grabbing the torch in both hands as she pushed it into the big man’s face. The pitch splashed against his mask of rags. The cloth on his chest and around his head ignited with a loud
whoosh
.

Kadar screamed as the flames burned into his already melted flesh. Nicci had heard that heat to previously burned flesh was worse than the first burning. By the sound of his screams, it appeared to be true.

Nicci snatched Cara’s hand as the woman was regaining her feet. “Hurry! I must get to Richard!”

Outside the room where Kadar’s shrieks fell to strangled whimpers as the flames suffocated him, Cara seized Nicci by the hair and held her Agiel inches from her face.

“Give me one reason why I should trust you with Lord Rahl’s life.”

Nicci gazed into Cara’s eyes. “Because I saw his statue, and I understand, now, how wrong I’ve been. Have you ever been wrong, Cara? Really wrong? Can you ever understand what it’s like to realize you’ve been unthinkingly serving evil, and hurting good people? Can you understand that Richard has shown me there is something to live for?”

Nicci found Richard lying on his back, unconscious, or at least close to it. His head was pillowed on a marble hand. Kahlan lay beside him, clinging to him, weeping as his life bled away.