Severed Souls

by Terry Goodkind

  Despite every indication, he couldn’t help feeling like a bug approaching a spiderweb.

  Richard leaned closer to Commander Fister. “Don’t forget what I told you.”

  “Every man’s life before any threat gets to Nicci.” He cast Richard a look. “And of course you and the Mother Confessor.”

  It would do them no good to get to the containment field at the citadel if a foolish, jumpy soldier put an arrow through Nicci’s heart. Even the most gifted could be felled with a simple blade or arrow. Without Nicci, the containment field wouldn’t do them any good.

  From what he had learned, to stop the threat Emperor Sulachan and Hannis Arc had unleashed on the world, Richard had to end prophecy. He wished he could have ended prophecy before Kahlan had spoken with the oracle.

  “Looks peaceful,” Commander Fister said as he scanned the citadel guard, “but every man is ready if that changes.”

  The men all knew the importance of being the steel against steel so that Richard could be the magic against magic.

  Richard just wished that he had some clue as to how he was supposed to end prophecy.

  CHAPTER

  72

  The main force of the Fajin garrison stood at attention in a cobblestone square beyond the main gates. Beyond rows of soldiers in chain mail, their swords sheathed, stood a row of archers in brown tunics, all their bows shouldered beside their quivers. Lancers stood in a neat line to the other side of the square, their lances pointing straight up toward the leaden sky with the butts resting on the cobbles left wet and slick by the steady, light drizzle.

  All of the men were arranged in such a way as to funnel Richard and those with him down to a man waiting in the center of the road that led up to the citadel.

  Richard didn’t like being funneled. By his scowl, neither did Commander Fister.

  Beyond all the guards, terraces with shaggy olive trees lined the road the rest of the way up to the stone citadel at the top of the hill. Although it would be nothing too special in most cities of any size, in a place like Saavedra the citadel was a magnificent structure that sat like a jewel overlooking the dingy city below. Richard imagined that with Hannis Arc living there, it stood as a symbol of repression, much the way the People’s Palace had when Darken Rahl had ruled.

  To Richard, a building was just a building, and didn’t carry the passions and personality of its occupants. All he cared about with this particular building was the containment field it held down under ground. That was Kahlan’s salvation. He could see in her green eyes the weight of the poison within. He felt the same dead weight dragging him down.

  When Richard, flanked by a number of heavily armed men carrying battle-axes in addition to knives and swords, some wearing dark, molded leather chest plates and some wearing chain mail over leather tunics, all came to a halt, the man at the center of the square, fist to his heart, bent deeply from his waist.

  “I’m General Wolsey,” he said when he straightened. “Welcome to the citadel … Lord Rahl, I presume?”

  “That’s right,” Richard said with a nod.

  “The advance party of your men informed us of your arrival. I can’t tell you how honored we are to have you come to our humble city. We are at your disposal. Anything you want—anything at all—you have but to ask, and if it is within our power to provide it, we will.”

  “Thank you, General, I will keep that in mind,” Richard said.

  The man glanced around. “You all look, well, like you could use a bit of rest. There are rooms, if you would like, and—”

  “Thank you,” Richard said, cutting the man off before he was finished trying to ingratiate himself. “As you noted, we have been traveling hard, coming over the pass from up north.”

  “The pass!” The general blinked. “No one comes over the pass. It’s not … safe.”

  “The people there are part of D’Hara, as are you. They were polite and gracious and showed us the way through.”

  His mouth opened a little as he stared. “That’s … remarkable.”

  Richard thought the man seemed a little too tense to be a general, but then again, this was a pretty small place, so a general here wasn’t necessarily what Richard would expect elsewhere. This man was probably adequate for the responsibility in the remote city of Saavedra. Besides, people were sometimes more than they appeared to be.

  Before General Wolsey could begin talking again, Richard started giving instructions.

  “While we are sure that you are prepared to protect the citadel, there are threats that I’m afraid none of you here are prepared to deal with.” He held his hand out to the side. “Therefore, Commander Fister, here, will be in charge. You will be taking orders from him.”

  The man frowned. “But I’m a general. He is just a commander.”

  “No,” Richard said, “you are the general of the citadel guard in Saavedra. He is a commander of the First File from the People’s Palace.”

  “The First File!” The man quickly looked around again at the men with Richard, all dressed in dark armor. “I had no idea, Lord Rahl. I’ve never met any of the First File before. Of course, we will cooperate in every way.”

  “Good. That means that any of these men, who are my personal guards, in order to do what they must to protect me, have authority over everyone here should it be necessary. You will all follow their instructions. We have no intention on usurping your authority in your protecting the citadel or the city, and will return command to you once we are rested and can be on our way. It shouldn’t be more than a day or two.”

  “Of course, Lord Rahl.”

  Richard deliberately looked over at the knot of officers standing to the side. They got the message and clapped fists to hearts. He then looked at the soldiers standing in ranks, watching, and they did the same. There didn’t appear to be any dissent or grumbling.

  “Thank you all for understanding the importance of our safety,” Richard said. “There are threats about that we need to be ready for.”

  The general lifted a hand. “What sort of threats?” He cleared his throat. “I mean, if I may be so bold as to ask.”

  Richard met the man’s gaze. “Have you ever seen the dead rise up out of graves and attack the living, ripping them limb from limb?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “The dead…?”

  “That’s right. Being already dead, they can’t be killed in the ordinary sense. My men know how to deal with the threat, so I suggest that you stay out of their way and let them handle any trouble.”

  The man nodded furiously. “Of course, Lord Rahl.”

  “Now, we’ve been traveling for a long time through some very hostile land. We need to get in out of this wet weather for a bit and get some needed rest.”

  The young General Wolsey held an arm out in invitation. “Then please, Lord Rahl, allow me to show you the way.”

  Without further word, Richard and all those with him followed the man up the curving cobblestone road toward the citadel at the top. He looked back over his shoulder from time to time to make sure they weren’t getting lost along the way.

  Richard deliberately hadn’t introduced Kahlan, or anyone else. He didn’t want them to know exactly who they were. He supposed it was possible he was being overly cautious, but if an assassin had been told to hide and then put an arrow in the Mother Confessor, or Nicci, or Irena, Richard didn’t want them identified as targets. Since they all knew his reasoning, they stayed quiet and let him do the talking.

  The general opened one of the big double doors and stood to the side to let Richard and everyone with him pass into the grand greeting hall.

  Once inside, he gestured to some of the women in uniforms to the side and more across the room. “The staff can show you all to your rooms and get you anything you might need. With the bishop gone for an extended time, we have plenty of room for you and you can have free use of the citadel. We have some lovely guest rooms where I am sure you will be comfortable. Perhaps not as comfortable as you are
used to, Lord Rahl, but I trust you will find the accommodations adequate.”

  The more the general talked, the more nervous he was making Richard. He supposed that in this outpost of civilization the general simply didn’t get the chance to meet many important people. Richard saw men and women of the staff lined up at the far end of the room, looking equally nervous, awaiting orders.

  “Thank you,” Richard said to the general. “We can take care of it from here. Please go back down with your men, close the gates, and see to it that no one comes to visit while we are here.”

  The general glanced around at the towering, dirty, grimy, armored, battle-hardened D’Haran soldiers of the First File, all bristling with weapons and smelling of sweat, standing in the pristine grand greeting room.

  Before the general could object, Commander Fister gave the man the kind of look that tended to render most people speechless. The implication was clear.

  The general clapped his fist to his heart. “Of course, Lord Rahl.”

  The general, reluctantly but with increasing speed, made his way back out the door. One of the men closed it behind him.

  None of the men of the First File were anything less than intimidating-looking, and the commander more so. Of course, Richard knew many of them on a more personal level, and some of them were actually quite shy—except when they were in a fight.

  “Thank you all,” Richard called out to the staff waiting across the room by the grand stairway, “but we have some matters to see to so you aren’t needed just yet. Please go about your duties, and one of my men will summon you when we’re ready.”

  The staff, a little confused not to be called upon and given orders, made their way off through the hallways to the sides.

  After they had gone, there was one bent, older man who purposefully remained behind.

  “May I help you?” Richard asked the man.

  The man bowed a little. The way his back was hunched, he didn’t have far to go to complete a bow. When he straightened up as best he could, Richard thought that he detected a ghost of hostility in the man’s drooping eyes.

  “I am Mohler, Lord Rahl. I am the scribe here at the citadel. I have worked here my whole life.” The challenge seeped back into the steady look in his eyes. “I knew your father.”

  Richard focused his attention more intently on the man. He now understood the shadow of hostility in the old man’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Richard’s words had not been what the man had expected to hear and it confused him. The creases in his forehead deepened as he frowned. “Excuse me, Lord Rahl?”

  Richard needed to get to their business and wasn’t in the mood to soften it for him. “Darken Rahl, like his father before him, was a tyrant who tortured and murdered people in order to maintain his grasp on power. He was an evil man. Everyone suffered under his rule. He hurt people I cared about.”

  The hunched scribe still looked suspicious. “So you knew the man, then.”

  “I’m the one who killed him.”

  For the first time, Mohler’s eyes seemed to brighten and he showed the hint of a smile. “I had heard the rumor, Lord Rahl. I did not know if it was true. It seems I may have heard wrong.”

  It was Richard’s turn to be confused. “What did you hear?”

  “That you killed him in order to seize rule for yourself.”

  “I was a woods guide, and would be happy to be one today. I only fill the role of Lord Rahl to give people the chance to live their own life as they choose. Nothing would make me happier than to be able to go back to my life and do the same.

  “But sometimes, when the choice presents itself, we all have to decide if we will stand up for what’s right. If not, evil people will be the ones to dictate how we live our lives.”

  The old scribe tipped his head in a nod of appreciation. “Thank you for setting the record straight.”

  “What does a scribe at the citadel do, exactly?” Richard asked.

  “I have worked here my whole life, recording prophecy brought in to Bishop Arc. He has an extensive collection.”

  Richard couldn’t help himself. “Another evil man with the same hate in his heart that Darken Rahl harbored.”

  The man bowed his nearly bald head covered over with wisps of gray hair. “If you say so, Lord Rahl. I am but a humble scribe and such things are above my station in life.”

  “No, they aren’t,” Richard said, holding up an admonishing finger. “You are entitled to live your life for your own ends, just as everyone else is. Your former master, Hannis Arc, will likely not be coming back here. He has gone off to bring misery and suffering, like he has inflicted here, to the rest of the world. Unless I can stop him.

  “The prophecy you have recorded here might be of help to me in finding a way to stop Hannis Arc from hurting a great many people, the way Darken Rahl did.”

  Mohler smiled the slightest bit. Richard thought it looked genuine, like a small ray of sunlight coming from within.

  His voice lowered. “I will be here to assist you, Lord Rahl, should you wish my help.”

  Richard nodded. “Thank you, Mohler. I would like it very much if you would show me the prophecy you are in charge of maintaining, but maybe later, after we’ve rested.”

  “Of course, Lord Rahl. I will leave you, then, until I am needed.”

  Richard watched the old scribe shuffle off toward the grand stairs at the far end of the room, wondering if the prophecy Hannis Arc had used might be of help in finding out exactly what he planned, or even a way to stop him and the dead spirit king.

  CHAPTER

  73

  Once the scribe had disappeared up the stairs, Richard turned back to those waiting with him.

  “We’re in luck. They have horses here. Once we’re healed and I take a quick look at the prophecies that Hannis Arc used, and if we hurry, we might still be able to beat him and Sulachan back to the Palace of the Prophets. First, though, it’s time we finally got rid of Jit’s poison.”

  He pulled Irena forward by her arm. “Where is the containment field? Show us the way.”

  Irena nodded. “Gladly, Richard. At last! This way,” she said, pointing to the right, off between columns holding up a balcony above a dark gallery below it.

  She looked thrilled to finally be the center of importance, to finally be able to fulfill her role. She hurried on ahead of them, leading the way, with a gleeful Samantha right on her heels. Samantha, proud of her mother’s part in saving their lives, flashed a wide grin back over her shoulder.

  Richard couldn’t help feeling cheered himself. He acknowledged the smile with a brief one of his own.

  He couldn’t wait for Kahlan to be healed. He could tell by the dull look in her green eyes that the darkness within was growing ever stronger. He wanted her healed first.

  He was also pretty sure that after the poison was out of her, Kahlan would be herself again and realize the need to stop the threat from Hannis Arc and Emperor Sulachan. It aggravated him, every time he thought about it, how his blood had been used to bring the spirit of Sulachan back from the dead. Richard needed to set that right. Once well again, Kahlan would feel the same.

  In the corridor beyond the gallery, when Irena headed down the first set of stairs she came to, Richard signaled to the men. Several of them took up stations, guarding the stairwell at the top. He didn’t know what was below, but while they went to find out, he wanted men watching their backs.

  The rest of the group—Richard, Kahlan, Nicci, Commander Fister, and all the men with them—funneled down a wide stairwell after Irena and Samantha. Kahlan’s hand found his. She gave it a silent squeeze that he returned.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Nicci used her gift to send sparks of flame into lamps hung at intervals along the wall so they could see as they followed a series of utilitarian passageways toward a door at the end. It was a simple oak door but looked heavily built. With a silent signal from Commander Fister, one of the men drew his axe
and rushed out in front of everyone else to get to the door first.

  “Is that really necessary?” Irena asked, puzzling back at the commander as they all hurried down the hall toward the door.

  “It is,” he said without apology or bothering to tell her why. To the commander, the need seemed not only obvious, but routine and hardly worthy of explanation.

  Irena shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt to be on the safe side.”

  They all slowed and waited as the man with the axe took a lamp from the wall and then slipped behind the door to check the hall beyond. When he returned and gave them the all-clear, everyone swiftly followed Irena into the darkness beyond.

  She stopped not far ahead where light spheres brightened in her presence. She lifted one of the glass spheres resting in a row of iron brackets and handed it to Nicci, then gave one to Samantha, and finally she took one for herself. The light spheres were powered by the gift, and started glowing brighter with greenish light as each woman took one. Since Richard was cut off from his gift, it wouldn’t do him any good to take one, so, like some of the men, he took a cold torch from the assortment standing on end in a woven wicker basket to the side.

  He held the torch out and let Samantha light it for him. She ignited a flame over her palm and sent fire into the torches of several men, who hurried off down the hall, in turn lighting torches for others. The flames sent yellow-orange light flickering ahead into the darkness. Acrid smoke from the hissing, popping torches rolled along the sooty ceiling.

  Irena’s face looked greenish in the strange light of the sphere she was holding. “Down this way,” she said before turning and heading for another, smaller stairway.

  The stairs were roughly cut stone, as were the walls, and not as wide as the previous steps. In pairs, they all followed the stairs down around several landings as they descended to the foundation level of the building. Richard supposed that it made sense for the containment field to be in as secluded and secure a place as possible.

  At the bottom of the stairs, they held out the light spheres and the torches Richard and several other men carried to peer off into the darkness of the stone corridor. The air was musty and damp, but at least there was no standing water.