Death's Mistress

by Terry Goodkind

  “Oddly enough, that is not entirely certain, but I have my ideas. The story is far more complicated than a list of military campaigns. You see, Emperor Kurgan had married a beautiful queen from one of the largest lands he seized. Her name was Majel. Some say she was a sorceress, because her beauty was indeed bewitching.” He gave Nicci a wry smile. “Perhaps like our own sorceress.”

  She frowned at him.

  He continued his story. “Majel’s beauty was so entrancing that General Utros was put under its spell. She found him to be a handsome man, not to mention brave and powerful—certainly he was a mate superior to Iron Fang himself, who might not have been as awe-inspiring as his propaganda would suggest.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Or maybe there was nothing magic about it at all. It could just be that Empress Majel and General Utros fell in love. It’s clear to me, and to many historical scholars, that Utros intended to conquer the world, then overthrow Kurgan and take Majel for his own.”

  “What happened then?” Bannon asked.

  Nathan stopped at a shoulder-high pinnacle of weathered rock that had been erected at the side of the road, as a mile marker, although the carved letters had long since worn away. He removed his life book, opened to his map, and glanced at the foothills, trying to orient himself. None of the foundation rocks gave any hint about the chilling prophecy or Kol Adair, though. Nicci was almost relieved.…

  “Utros took the bulk of the imperial army, nine hundred thousand of Kurgan’s best soldiers, on a campaign to conquer the powerful city of Ildakar. And he simply vanished—along with the entire army.

  “It’s generally believed that they deserted, all nine hundred thousand of them. Maybe they even joined the forces of Ildakar. Suddenly finding himself without his army, Emperor Kurgan was weak and utterly lost. Then he discovered evidence of Empress Majel’s affair with Utros, and in his rage at this betrayal, Kurgan stripped her naked and chained her spread-eagled in the center of the city square. He forced his people to watch as he used an obsidian dagger to peel away her beautiful face in narrow ribbons of flesh, leaving her eyeballs intact so she could watch as he skinned the rest of her body, strip by strip. He finally gouged out her eyes and made sure she was still alive before upending urns of ravenous, flesh-eating beetles onto the raw, bloody meat that remained of her body.”

  Bannon looked queasy. Nicci gave a grim nod, imagining that Jagang could well have done something similar. “Emperors tend to be … excessive,” she said.

  The wizard continued, “Iron Fang did that to strike terror into the hearts of his people, but he only appalled them, for they had loved Empress Majel. His people were so disgusted and outraged that they rose up and overthrew Emperor Kurgan. He had no army to defend him and only a handful of imperial guards, many of whom were just as outraged at the crime they had witnessed. The people killed Kurgan and dragged his body through the streets until all the flesh was ripped off his bones. They hung his corpse by the ankles from a high tower of the palace until jackdaws picked the skeleton clean.”

  “That is what should happen to tyrants,” Nicci said. “Jagang himself was buried unmarked in a mass grave.”

  Nathan strolled onward, smiling. “And, of course, the citizens chose another emperor, who was just as ruthless, just as oppressive. Some people simply don’t learn.”

  CHAPTER 28

  The foothills rose up from the river valley to form a mountain range, and according to the information they had been told, beyond those mountains would be a broad, fertile valley with another line of even higher mountains beyond. And then they would find Kol Adair.

  Nathan thought the journey would be quite a challenge. He corrected himself: quite an adventure. During his sedentary centuries in the Palace of the Prophets, he had waited for exactly this, although he had not foreseen losing his gift along the way.

  Leaving the rigidly straight imperial road, which headed north, the three travelers wound their way into hills covered with aspens. The forest was eerily beautiful, with tall, smooth trunks of green-gray bark and rippling leaves that whispered and rustled in the breeze. They walked on a carpet of mellow, sweet-smelling fallen leaves.

  By late afternoon, Nathan found an open spot near a creek and suggested they set up camp. Bannon went off to hunt rabbits for their supper, but came back with only some swollen crabapples and an armful of cattails, whose pulp, he said, could be cooked up into a filling, if bland, mash. They added smoked fish from their packs, given to them by the people of Renda Bay. Later, Nicci drifted off to sleep while Nathan recounted more obscure and barbaric tales from history. At least Bannon was interested.

  The next day they continued into the rolling hills, following a path that was wide enough for a horse, although they had not seen a village in days. Nathan consulted his notes. “There should be another town up ahead. Lockridge, according to the map.” He frowned as he looked from side to side, still trying to get his bearings. “At least, as best I can tell. We should easily reach it by nightfall.”

  “I’m happy just to travel with you as my companions,” Bannon said, “for as long as you’ll let me.”

  Nathan wondered how many days, months, or even years it would take them to find Kol Adair, but once they reached that mysterious place—whether it was a mountain, or a city, or some magical wellspring—he would become whole again. In the meantime, he felt empty and unsettled. Although he was perfectly competent without his gift, a decent swordsman and a true adventurer, the magic was part of him, and he did not like the idea that his own Han was a restless, rebellious force.

  Alas, the farther they got from Renda Bay, the less reliable Thaddeus’s sketchy map proved to be. “I’m sure the townspeople ahead will be able to help us out,” Nathan said aloud.

  When they reached an elbow in the ridge and walked out onto a cleared outcropping that sported only a single gnarled bristlecone among the rocks, Nathan paused to take a look around him, taking advantage of the exposed view to get his bearings.

  Bannon pointed to a higher ridge several miles away, a large granite peak that stood above the other hills like a citadel. “There’s a kind of tower over there. What do you suppose that is?”

  “Another cairn?” Nicci asked.

  “No, no. This is much larger. A great tower, I think.”

  Nathan shaded his brow. The midmorning sun was in his eyes, blocking details, but he could make out a stone watchtower topped with partially crumbled crenellations. “Yes, yes, you’re right, my boy. But I see no movement, no people.” He squinted harder. “It looks empty.”

  “That would be a good place to erect a watchtower,” Nicci said. “A sentinel outpost.”

  Nathan turned in a slow circle, looking at the ridges, the trees, the unfolding landscape. “Yes, that’s the highest point all around. From there, a person could see for quite some distance.” He began to grow excited as an idea occurred to him. “I could get over there and come back to the main road in a few hours. Getting a perspective on the land ahead would definitely be worth the detour.”

  Nicci shrugged. “If you feel it is necessary, Wizard, I will accompany you.”

  Nathan felt strangely defensive as he turned to her. Since he had lost his gift, she clearly felt she needed to be his protector, his minder. “It is not necessary for us all to go on such a side trip. With or without magic, Nathan Rahl is not a child who needs a nanny.” He sniffed. “Leave it to me. I’ll make my way over there, get the lay of the land, and update my map while you two keep following the path. Once you reach that town ahead, I trust you to find lodgings and make arrangements for a meal. I’ll certainly be hungry by the time I rejoin you.”

  Bannon beamed as he stepped up. “I’ll come along with you, Nathan. You might need Sturdy and me to protect against any dangers. Besides, I’ll keep you company. You can tell me more stories.”

  Nathan knew that the young man was earnest—in fact, Bannon was probably intimidated by the thought of being left alone with Nicci—but Nathan wanted to do this
by himself. Ever since losing his grasp on magic, and now afraid even to try lest he trigger some unknown disaster, he had felt a need to prove his own worth.

  “As tempting as that is, my boy, I don’t need your help.” He realized his voice was unintentionally sharp, and he softened his tone. “I’ll be fine, I tell you. Let me go alone. I’ll follow that ridge—see, it looks easy enough.” He let out a disarming chuckle. “Dear spirits, if I can’t find the highest point all around, then I’m useless! There’s no need for you both to go so many miles out of your way.”

  Nicci saw his determination and accepted it. “That is your decision, Wizard.”

  “Just make sure you two don’t need my help while I’m gone,” Nathan added with a hint of sarcasm, and he nudged Bannon’s shoulder. “Go with the sorceress. What if she needs the protection of your sword? Don’t abandon her.”

  Nicci grimaced at the suggestion, while Bannon nodded with grave dedication to his new assignment.

  Without further farewell, the wizard strode off into the slatted lines of aspens, following the crest of the ridge and marking the distance to the sentinel tower. He hurried out of sight because he didn’t want Nicci or Bannon to change their minds and insist on joining him. “I am still a wizard, damn the spirits!” he muttered. The Han was still within him, even though it now felt less like a loyal pet and more like a rabid dog chained to a post. But at least he had his sword and his fighting skills, and he had a thousand years of knowledge to draw upon. He could handle a simple scouting expedition by himself.

  The line of the undulating hills guided him down a slope following a drainage, then up around to another high point. He caught a glimpse of the tower, which still seemed miles away, but he didn’t let himself grow discouraged. He would achieve his goal, find the tower, and learn what he could. This was all unexplored territory, and he was the first roving D’Haran ambassador to behold it, in the name of Lord Richard Rahl.

  His legs ached as he bushwhacked over the rough terrain. He paused to marvel at a series of arcane symbols he found carved into the bark of a large fallen aspen—ancient and unreadable letter scars that had swelled and blurred with age as the tree grew. The symbols were not in any language he knew, not High D’Haran, not any of the old spell languages from the scrolls and books he had studied in Tanimura. The markings reminded him that he was indeed in a place far from his knowledge.…

  When he was miles away from his companions, all alone in the wilderness and supposedly safe, Nathan let himself fully consider how his circumstances had changed since he and Nicci had left their lives back in D’Hara. Yes, he was certainly in fine shape for a man his age: well muscled, physically fit, active, nimble. And very good with his sword, even if he did say so himself. But his magic had gone astray, and that bothered him in ways he could not articulate—and Nathan Rahl considered himself a very articulate man.

  He could never forget the horror of the backlash when he had tried to heal the wounded man in Renda Bay, how the magic had dodged and twisted when he tried to use it. He was afraid of what other consequences he might endure. Whenever he had tried to reach for it, struggling for some touch, some grasp, he had felt only a hint, an echo … then a sting. He didn’t want to be around his friends in case some monstrous backlash might occur. But he needed to learn more about his condition.

  Now, he decided to take his chance. Out here in the forest, walking along the wooded ridges, far from anyone else, Nathan decided to experiment.

  Considering his options, he decided not to dabble with any fire spell, because it could so easily erupt into a great conflagration that he wouldn’t be able to extinguish. Like Nicci, though, he had easily been able to manipulate air, nudge breezes, and twist the wind. Maybe he could try that.

  Nathan looked around himself at the forest of dizzyingly similar aspen trunks, all the rounded leaves knit together in a crown. Winds rippled through the branches overhead.

  What did he have to lose? He reached inside himself, searched for his Han, tried to pull just enough that he could create a puff of air, a bit of wind, to stir the twigs and leaves. A gentle little twirl …

  At first nothing happened, but he strained harder, reached deeper, released his Han, pushed it, to create just an outflowing breeze, a gentle gust.

  The leaves did stir, and suddenly the air sucked toward him. The wind swirled and twisted, wound up as a cyclone. Nathan had intended only to nudge, but the air whooshed around him in a roar and rushed upward, like a hurricane blow.

  He struggled, grabbed at nothing with his hands, tried to pull it in, reining back his power—but the wind only increased as the magic fought against him. Branches overhead snapped. A thick aspen bough broke in half and came crashing to the forest floor not far from him. Leaves were torn asunder, thrown apart like green confetti in the air. The storm kept building, pushing branches, thrashing like a furious seizure.

  “Stop! Dear spirits, stop!” Nathan tried to center his Han, reaching for some inner valve to turn it off, to calm himself, and finally the wind died down, the storm abated, and he was left standing there, panting hard.

  His white hair was tangled, whipped around his head. Nathan steadied himself against a sturdy aspen trunk. That was not at all what he had intended! And it was an even more ominous hint of the dangerous consequences he might face if he tried to use his magic. Most of the time he couldn’t find the gift at all, but when he did try to work a spell, he had no idea what might actually happen.

  Certainly not what he wanted to happen.

  He was glad that Nicci and Bannon hadn’t seen this. He couldn’t be responsible for what might occur if he blundered again. His throat was dry, and he gradually caught his breath. “Quite extraordinary,” he said, “but not something I would like to do again. Not until I understand this more.”

  * * *

  An hour later, another high clearing showed him that he had covered half the distance to the watchtower, and he picked up his pace. It was already past noon, and he wanted to see the view, take his notes, and make his way back to the main trail—and a comfortable village, he hoped—before nightfall.

  And, no, he would not dabble with magic again.

  The sentinel tower sat on top of a rocky bluff dotted with stubby bristlecones that grew among large talus boulders. The nearer side of the outcropping was a sheer, impassable cliff, so Nathan worked his way around to the bluff’s more accommodating side, where he discovered a worn path wide enough for three men to walk abreast … or for warhorses to gallop up the slope.

  The breezes increased as Nathan broke out of the forest and climbed into the open area around the base of the watchtower. The stone structure was far more imposing than he had first thought, rising high into the open sky. The looming tower was octagonal, its flat sides constructed of enormous quarried blocks. Such a mammoth project would have required either an inexhaustible supply of labor or powerful magic to cut and assemble the blocks like this.

  He stopped to catch his breath as he looked across the open terrain. From this high citadel, sentinels would have been able to keep watch for miles in all directions. He wondered if this place had perhaps been built by Emperor Kurgan during the Midwar, and he imagined General Utros himself climbing to this summit from which he could survey the lands he had just conquered.

  Nathan heard only an oppressive silence that pressed down around him. He craned his neck to get a view of the top of the single structure, he saw large lookout windows, some of them with the glass intact, while others were shattered. Several of the crenellations had fallen, and large blocks lay strewn around the base like enormous toys.

  Nathan called, “Hello, is anyone there?” Any watchers would have seen him approach for the last hour, and a lone man would have been completely vulnerable as he ascended the wide path to the summit. If someone meant to attack him, they had certainly had ample opportunity. He wanted at least to begin the conversation under the auspices of friendship. “Hello?” he called again, but heard only the muttering
whispers of wind in and out of the broken windows. Not even birds had taken up residence there.

  Despite his uneasiness, Nathan felt the reassuring presence of his sword. He would not try to use magic again, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t helpless if he encountered some threat. He stepped up to the broken tower entrance, where a massive wooden door had fallen off its hinges and lay collapsed just inside the main entry. He braced himself, inhaling deeply. He had promised his companions that he could do this, and he could hardly walk all this way and then be afraid to climb up to see the view.

  “I come in peace!” he shouted at the top of his voice, then muttered to himself, “At least until you make me change my mind.”

  He stepped over the fallen door and passed under the archway to see another set of doors, iron bars, a portcullis—all of which had been torn asunder and destroyed. The iron bars were uprooted from where they had been seated in the blocks, twisted as if by some supreme force.

  Inside the main chamber, wide stone stairs ascended the side wall, running in an octagonal spiral up the interior faces. Five ancient skeletons in long-rotted armor lay broken on the central floor, as if they had fallen off the stairs from a great height.

  Though he couldn’t find his Han, didn’t dare try to summon it, he could sense a power inside this watchtower, a throbbing energy as if this structure had been bombarded by the magic of an attacking sorcerer … or maybe it had been saturated with magic by the defenders who tried to save it.

  Nathan climbed the stairs and found himself out of breath. Though he was a fit man with travel-conditioned muscles, he was still a thousand years old.

  The whistling breezes grew louder as he reached the pinnacle of the watchtower, a wide, empty lookout chamber with an iron-reinforced wooden floor. The ancient planks were petrified. Although parts of the outer walls had broken, the damage did not seem to be due to age. In fact, instead of merely crumbling and falling downward, as would have been caused by gravity, the missing stone blocks had been flung far from the base of the tower … as if blasted outward.