Chainfire

by Terry Goodkind

  “I think so,” she said.

  In the lower inspection channels, they came to round, tile-lined tunnels that when need be also served as drains. Zedd entered the complex of tunnels, taking intersections that he remembered since he was a boy. Dripping water echoed through the passages. It was cold enough to see their breath in the humid air. Water dripped between the tiles in places, making the tunnel slick.

  At various places, right in the middle of nowhere in the tunnels, they encountered powerful shields that he helped her pass through. Several were so strong that they gave off preliminary warnings long in advance. Zedd had to wrap his arms around her in order to protect her enough to get her safely through.

  “There’s a lot of rats down here,” Rikka said.

  Zedd could hear them squeaking by the hundreds all through the honeycombed passageways. The little beasts seemed to scatter before the light could fully illuminate them, so they were in evidence by sound, not by sight, except the dead ones.

  “Yes. Are you afraid of rats?”

  She halted and scowled at him. “No one likes rats.”

  “Can’t argue with you about that.”

  At each intersection Zedd pointed out to her the way they had to go. He couldn’t imagine how she was ever going to remember the way. He hoped it never became necessary. He hoped to be the one to show Richard. As a boy Zedd had used tracers of magic to learn his way through. Rikka paid close attention and watched each of the dark intersections they came to. He was sure that it was more than she had bargained for and that she would not be able to remember her way. He thought that perhaps he would take her through several more times in order to help her get it all mapped out in her head. After that, he would test her and let her lead the way down.

  After what seemed like an endless journey working their way ever lower, they finally entered a colossal room, an immense, cavelike chamber, that was hollowed out from the interior of the mountain. The granite quarried out of the mountain down in this place had provided some of the stone for the foundation. The quarry, abandoned after the construction was completed, had left behind the huge room.

  In some places around the sides, the builders of the Keep had left fat pillars of stone in place to hold up what they apparently had found to be weaker areas of the ceiling. In spots around the room there were broad veins of obsidian, a black, glassy rock that was unsuitable for building material. Zedd had seen it used in a few places in the palace, mostly for decoration. In the glow of the light from the sphere, the surface of the obsidian showed the shiny curved arcs left by being chipped away with chisels, leaving it looking like dazzling fish scales.

  The center of the gigantic room, where the rock was the hardest, was vaulted to a height of over two hundred and fifty feet. From the stone evidence, it appeared that the workers had started at the top, taking out huge blocks of stone right under what was the present ceiling. They then began quarrying the next lower level of rock until they eventually had hollowed out the cavelike room. The different levels of galleries around the side were just tall enough, and just wide enough between the large square columns, for the foundation blocks to be hauled though. Beyond the room were ramps where the blocks had been eased down to the lower parts of the foundation.

  “See there, across the room?” Zedd asked, pointing at an enormous, dark corridor to which he knew the surrounding ramps led. “That was constructed first. It’s the main channel where the foundation blocks were transported from this room to the foundation all along that section of the Keep. Look at how the floor is worn by the work.”

  The floor leading into the yawning dark chasm was worn so smooth that it almost looked as if it had been polished.

  “Why didn’t we come that way—it would have been a much shorter route.”

  He was impressed that she realized that the primary passageway ran in the direction from which they had come. The stone blocks for the foundation would not have taken the circuitous route they had.

  “You’re right, it would have been shorter, but there are shields there that I can’t pass. Since I can’t get in there, because of those shields, I don’t know what is in there, but I suspect that the builders probably created rooms in there that contain things that must be protected. I can’t really think of any other reason for those shields.”

  “Why can’t you pass them? You are First Wizard.”

  “The wizards of that time had both sides of the gift. Richard is the first in thousands of years to be born with the Subtractive side as well as the Additive. Shields with Subtractive Magic are deadly and are typically reserved for the most dangerous places, or the places that have exceptionally important items they were most concerned about protecting.”

  Zedd led Rikka across the vast room by a route that kept them close to the outer wall. He rarely came down to this room and so he had to watch the stone wall carefully as they made their way around. When they reached the place he was looking for, he snatched Rikka’s arm and pulled her to a stop.

  “This is it.”

  Rikka blinked as she looked around. To the inexperienced eye, it looked the same as the rest of the room. “This is what?”

  “The secret place.”

  It looked like the rest of the huge room. Everywhere the walls were scarred with the gouges left by tools used by workers thousands of years before.

  Zedd held up the glass sphere so she could see where he pointed. “Here. See that gouge up high? The one going at this angle, following the fissure, and a little fatter in the middle? Slip your left hand into it. There’s a cleft in the back of the gouge, deeper into the fissure.”

  Rikka frowned at him but then stood on her tiptoes and slid her hand into the grove up to her knuckles.

  “There’s a lip in the rock down here,” he said. “I used it when I was smaller. If you can’t reach, step up on the edge.”

  “No, I got it,” she said. “Now what?”

  “You’re only halfway in. Put your hand in deeper.”

  She wiggled her fingers and worked her hand in farther until it was in up to her wrist. “That’s as far as it will go. It’s solid where my fingertips are.”

  “Move your longest finger up and down until you find a hole.”

  She made a face as she worked her fingers. “Got it.”

  Zedd took her right hand and guided it into a similar gouge in another part of the same fissure down at waist level. “Find a hole in the back of this one as well. When you do, push a finger firmly into both holes.”

  She made a little sound deep in her throat with the effort. “Found it! I’ve got them both. I’m pushing.”

  “All right, now, as you push with both fingers, put your right foot up here, on the wall right on the other side of this chink, and give it a good shove.”

  She frowned at him, but did as he said. Nothing happened.

  “Can’t you push any harder than that? Don’t tell me that you aren’t as strong as a skinny old man.”

  She shot him a scowl and then used her grip in the handholds for leverage as she grunted with effort and gave the wall a good shove with her boot. Suddenly, the face of the rock began moving away. Zedd urged Rikka to step back. They both watched as a section of the wall silently slid back as if it were a massive door, which was exactly what it was. Despite its monumental weight, it was so perfectly balanced that once the two finger latches were released, it pivoted with nothing more than a stout shove.

  “Dear spirits,” Rikka whispered as she leaned toward the opening and peered into the dark maw. “How did you ever find such a place?”

  “I found it as a child. Actually, I found the other end. Once I came through into here, I knew where this spot was and I took careful note so that I was able to find it again. The first few times I couldn’t find it, so I had to come through again.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “When I was a boy, it was my salvation. It was the way I was able to sneak back into the Keep without having to come across the bridge and in the fron
t, like everyone else.”

  She suspiciously arched an eyebrow. “You must have been a troublesome child.”

  Zedd smiled. “I have to admit that there were those who would agree with that. This place served me well. I was also able to get in here when the Sisters of the Dark had taken the Keep. They only knew to guard the front entrance. They, like everyone else alive, didn’t know this place existed.”

  “So this is what you wanted to show me? A secret way into the Keep?”

  “No, that’s by far the least important or remarkable thing about this place. Come on and I’ll show you.”

  Her suspicion flared again. “Just what kind of place is it?”

  Zedd held up the sphere of light as he leaned toward her and whispered. “Beyond is eternal night: the passage of the dead.”

  Chapter 35

  The distant howl of a wolf woke Richard from a dead sleep. The forlorn cry echoed through the mountains, but went unanswered. Richard lay on his side, in the surreal light of false dawn, idly listening, waiting, for a return cry that never came.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to open his eyes for longer than the span of a single, slow heartbeat, much less gather the energy to lift his head. Shadowy tree limbs appeared to move about in the murky darkness.

  Richard gasped as he fully awoke. He awoke angry.

  He was lying on his back. His sword lay across his chest, one hand clutching the scabbard, the other gripping the hilt so hard that the letters of the word TRUTH were pressed painfully into his palm on one side and his fingertips on the other. The Sword of Truth was pulled partway out of its scabbard. Its anger, too, had partly slipped its bounds.

  The first, faint traces of dawn were just beginning to silently steal through the forested mountainside. The thick woods were quiet and still.

  Richard slid the blade back into its scabbard and sat up, laying the sword down beside him on his bedroll.

  He drew his legs up and put his elbows on his knees as he ran his fingers back through his hair. His heart still raced from the sword’s rage. It had stolen into him without his conscious awareness or direction, but he wasn’t surprised or alarmed. It was hardly the first time he had begun to draw the sword as he’d remembered that fateful morning while slipping the bonds of sleep. Sometimes he woke to find that he’d pulled the blade completely free.

  Why did he keep having that memory as he awoke?

  He knew all too well the reason. That was the morning he had awakened to find Kahlan missing. It was the terrible memory of the morning she’d disappeared. It was a waking nightmare about the nightmare that had become his life, and yet, he knew that there was something about it that kept making it go through his mind. He had been over it a thousand times but he couldn’t figure out what was so meaningful about that particular memory. The wolf waking him had been a bit odd, but that didn’t seem so strange that it would keep haunting him.

  Richard looked around in the deep gloom but he didn’t see Cara. Off through the thick stands of trees he could just make out the faint stain of red streaking the rim of the eastern sky. The slash of color almost looked like blood seeping through a gash in the slate black sky beyond the perfectly still trees.

  He was bone-weary from the relentless pace of their wild ride up from deep in the Old World. They had been stopped a number of times by patrolling soldiers scattered throughout the Midlands, and by occupying troops. It was by no means the main force of the Imperial Order, but they had been trouble enough. Once they’d let Cara and Richard, posing as a stone carver and his wife, go on their way to a job Richard had invented for the glory of the Order. The rest of the times the two of them had had to fight their way out of the situation. Those encounters had been bloody.

  He needed more sleep—they had gotten very little on their journey—but as long as Kahlan was missing they couldn’t afford to sleep any more than was absolutely necessary. He didn’t know how much time he had to find her, but he didn’t intend to waste any of it. He refused to believe that his time had long since run out.

  One of the horses had died of exhaustion not long ago; he couldn’t remember exactly when. Another had come up lame a while back and they’d had to abandon it. Richard would worry about finding more horses later. There were more important concerns at hand. They were close to Agaden Reach, Shota’s home. For the last two days they had been climbing steadily into the formidable mountains that ringed the Reach.

  As he stretched his aching, tired muscles, he again tried to think of how he would convince Shota to help him. She had helped him before, but that was no guarantee she would help him this time. Shota could be difficult, to say the least. There were people who were so terrified of the witch woman that they wouldn’t even say her name aloud.

  Zedd had told him once that Shota never told you anything you wanted to know without also telling you something that you didn’t want to know. Richard couldn’t really imagine what he didn’t want to know, but he understood quite clearly what it was he did want to know and he intended Shota to tell him anything she knew about Kahlan’s disappearance or where she might be. If Shota refused, there was going to be trouble.

  As his anger heated he realized that he felt the cool, tingling touch of mist on his face.

  It was then that he also noticed something moving in the trees.

  He squinted in an effort to see in the darkness. It couldn’t be the breeze moving the leaves; there was no wind in the silent predawn woods.

  Shadowy tree limbs appeared to move about in the murky darkness.

  There had been no wind at all that morning, either.

  Richard’s sense of alarm rose to match his heart rate. He stood in his bedroll.

  Something was slipping through the trees.

  It wasn’t disturbing the branches or brush the way a person or an animal would. It was higher up, maybe at eye level. There simply wasn’t enough light for him to see what it was. As dark and still as the morning was, though, he couldn’t be certain that there really was something there. It might have been his imagination; being this close to Shota certainly was enough to make him uneasy. While she might have helped him in the past, she had also caused him no end of trouble.

  But if nothing was there in the trees, then why was his skin tingling with dread? And what was the almost imperceptible sound he heard, like a soft hiss?

  Without taking his eyes off the dark woods, Richard reached out and put his fingertips against a nearby spruce for balance as he carefully squatted down enough to pick up his sword from where it lay on the bedroll. As he quietly slipped the baldric over his head, he tried to focus his eyes in the darkness out ahead of him to see what, if anything, was moving. Whatever was moving, it couldn’t be much, yet he was more and more convinced by the moment that it really was something.

  The most disconcerting aspect of it was the way it moved. It didn’t move in short bursts, like a bird flitting from branch to branch, or in rapid start-and-stop spirts like a squirrel. It didn’t even move with the stealth of a snake that glided, then paused, then glided some more.

  This moved not only fluidly and quietly, but continuously.

  The horses, off through the trees in a corral Richard had constructed by using saplings to fence off the end of a narrow chasm, snorted and stamped their hooves. A flock of birds in the distance suddenly burst from their roost and took to wing.

  For the first time, Richard realized that the cicadas were silent.

  Richard detected the faint scent of something out of place in the forest. Carefully, quietly, he sniffed the air, trying to place the scent. He thought it might be a whiff of something burning. The odor wasn’t anywhere near as strong as a fire would be. It almost smelled like a campfire, but they had no campfire; Richard hadn’t wanted to take the time or to chance attracting attention. Cara had a lantern with a light shield around it, but it didn’t smell like the lantern flame.

  He scanned the woods all around, checking for Cara. She was on watch so she was probably nearby,
but Richard didn’t see her anywhere. Surely she wouldn’t have gone far, especially not after the attack the morning Kahlan had disappeared. She was all too worried about his safety and knew that this time, if he was shot with an arrow, there would be no Nicci to save his life. No, Cara would be close.

  His instinct was to call out for her, but he suppressed the urge. He first wanted to find out what was happening, to find out what was wrong, before he called out an alarm; an alarm would also alert any adversary that he was already aware of them. It was better to let an opponent, especially an opponent sneaking up on you, believe that they had not been detected.

  As he studied the surrounding area, Richard thought that there was something not right about the woods. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but they looked wrong. He supposed that he had that impression in part because of the curious burning smell. It was still too dark to be able to see anything clearly, but from what he was able to see, the branches didn’t seem to look right. There was something odd about the pine boughs, the leaves. They didn’t seem to be hanging naturally.

  He remembered all too well coming to Agaden Reach the first time. Farther back down the mountains he had been attacked by some strange creature. As he had been frantically fighting it off, Shota had snatched Kahlan and taken her down into the Reach. That attack had been in the guise of a stranger trying to lead him to an ambush. The creature had finally been frightened off. And, this time there was no such stranger. Still, that didn’t mean that such a creature, having failed before, might not this time try a different approach. He remembered, too, that his sword had been all that had kept the monstrous thing at bay.

  As quietly as possible, Richard slowly drew his sword from its sheath. In an attempt to keep it from making any noise, he pinched the sides of the blade right at the throat of the scabbard, letting the steel slide between his finger and thumb as it slipped out of the scabbard. Even so, the blade hissed ever so softly as it came free. The sword’s rage, too, slipped its bounds.