The old man’s house was too far to reach before dark and the trail was too treacherous to travel at night, but he wanted to put as much distance as he could between them and whomever waited back at his house. While there was light, they would keep moving.
Coldly, he wondered if whoever was in his house could be the same person who had murdered his father. His house was torn up just like his father’s had been. Could they have been waiting for him as they had waited for his father? Could it be the same person? Richard wished he could have confronted him, or at least seen who it was, but something inside him had strongly warned him to get away.
He gave himself a mental shake. He was letting his imagination have too free a rein. Of course something inside had warned him of danger, warned him to get away. He had already gotten away with his life when he shouldn’t have once this day. It was foolish to trust in luck once; twice was arrogance of the worst kind. It was best to walk away.
Still, he wished he could have seen who it was, been sure there was no connection. Why would someone tear his house apart, as his father’s had been torn apart? What if it was the same person? He wanted to know who had killed his father. He burned to know.
Even though he had not been allowed to see his father’s body at his house, he had wanted to know how he was killed. Chase had told him, very gently, but he had told him. His father’s belly had been cut open and his guts had been spread out all over the floor. How could anyone do that? Why would anyone do that? It made him sick and light-headed to think of it again. Richard swallowed back the lump in his throat.
“Well?” Her voice jolted him out of his thoughts.
“What? Well, what?”
“Well, did you get whatever it was you went to get?”
“Yes.”
“So what was it?”
“What was it? It was my backpack. I had to get my backpack.”
She turned to face him with both hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Richard Cypher, you expect me to believe you risked your life to get your backpack?”
“Kahlan, you are coming close to getting kicked.” He couldn’t manage a smile.
Her head was cocked to the side, and she continued to give him a sideways look, but his remark had taken the fire out of her. “Fair enough, my friend,” she said gently, “fair enough.”
He could tell Kahlan was a person who was used to getting answers when she asked a question.
As the light faded and colors muted into grayness, Richard started thinking of places to spend the night. He knew of several wayward pines along the way that he had used on many occasions. There was one at the edge of a clearing, just off the trail ahead. He could see the tall tree standing out against the fading pinks of the sky, standing above all the other trees. He led Kahlan off the trail toward it.
The tooth hanging around his neck nagged at him. His secrets nagged at him. He wished his father had never made him the keeper of the secret book. A thought that had occurred to him back at his house, but he had ignored, forced itself to the front of his mind. The books at his house looked like they had been torn apart in a rage. Maybe because none was the right book. What if it was the secret book they were looking for? But that was impossible; no one but the true owner even knew of the book.
And his father… and himself… and the thing the tooth came from. The thought was too farfetched to consider, so he decided he wouldn’t. He tried very hard not to.
Fear, from what had happened on Blunt Cliff and from what had been waiting for him at his house, seemed to have sapped his strength. His feet felt almost too heavy to lift as he trudged across the mossy ground. Just before he went through the brush into the clearing he stopped to swat a fly that was biting his neck.
Kahlan grabbed his wrist in midswat.
Her other hand clamped over his mouth.
He went rigid.
Looking into his eyes, she shook her head, then released his wrist, putting the hand behind his head while continuing to keep her other hand over his mouth. By the expression on her face he knew she was terrified he would make a sound. She slowly lowered him to the ground, and by his cooperation he let her know he would obey.
Her eyes held him as hard as her hands. Continuing to watch his eyes, she put her face so close to his he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek.
“Listen to me.” Her whisper was so low he had to concentrate to hear her. “Do exactly as I say.” The expression on her face made him afraid to blink. “Do not move. No matter what happens do not move. Or we are dead.” She waited. He gave a small nod. “Let the flies bite. Or we are dead.” She waited again. He gave another small nod.
With a flick of her eyes she indicated for him to look across the clearing. He slowly moved his head just a little so he could see. There was nothing. She kept her hand over his mouth. He heard a few grunts, like a wild boar.
Then he saw it.
He flinched involuntarily. She clamped her hand harder against his mouth.
From across the clearing, fading evening light reflected in two glowing green eyes as their gaze swept in his direction. It stood on two feet, like a man, and was about a head taller than him. He guessed it weighed three times as much. Flies bit his neck, but he tried to ignore them.
He looked back to her eyes. She had not looked to the beast; she knew what waited across the clearing. Instead she continued to watch him, waiting to see if he would react in a way that would betray them. He nodded again to reassure her. Only then did she remove her hand from his mouth and put it over his wrist, holding it to the ground. Trickles of blood ran across her neck as she lay motionless on the soft moss, letting the flies bite. He could feel each sharp sting as they bit his neck. Grunts came short and low, and both turned their heads slightly to see.
With astonishing speed, it charged into the center of the clearing, moving in a shuffling, sideways motion. It grunted as it came. Glowing green eyes searched, while its long tail slowly swished the air. The beast cocked its head to the side and pricked its short, rounded ears ahead, listening. Fur covered the great body everywhere except its chest and stomach, which were covered with a smooth, glossy, pinkish skin that rippled with corded muscles underneath. Flies buzzed around something smeared over the taut skin. Throwing back its head, the beast opened its mouth, hissing into the cold night air. Richard could see the hot breath turning to vapor between teeth as big as his fingers.
To keep from shrieking in terror, Richard concentrated on the pain of the biting flies. They could not sneak away, or run; the thing was that close and, he knew, that fast.
A scream erupted from the ground right in front of them, making Richard flinch. Instantly the beast charged toward the two of them in a sideways run. Kahlan’s fingers dug into his wrist, but otherwise she didn’t move. Richard was paralyzed as he saw it pounce.
A rabbit, its ears covered with the flies, bolted right in front of them, screaming again, and was swept up and torn in half in a blink. The front half went down in one swallow. The beast stood right over them and tore at the insides of the rabbit, taking some of the gore and smearing it on its pink-skinned chest and stomach. The flies, even the ones biting Richard’s and Kahlan’s necks, returned to the creature to feast. The rest of the rabbit was taken by each hind leg, ripped in half, and eaten.
When done, the beast cocked its head again, listening. The two of them were right underneath it, both holding their breath. Richard wanted to scream.
Large wings spread from its back. Against the failing light, Richard could see the veins pulsing through the thin membranes that were its wings. The beast took one last look around and skittered sideways across the clearing. It straightened, hopped twice, and flew off, disappearing in the direction of the boundary. The flies were gone with it.
Both flopped onto their backs, breathing fast, exhausted by the level of fright. Richard thought of the country people who had told him of things from the sky that ate people. He hadn’t believed them. He believed them now.
<
br /> Something in his pack was poking him in the back, and when he could stand it no longer, he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. He was drenched in sweat, and it now felt like ice in the cold evening air. Kahlan still lay on her back with her eyes closed, breathing rapidly. A few strands of her hair stuck to her face, but most of it flowed out over the ground. Sweat covered her, too; around her neck it was tinted red. He felt an overwhelming sense of sadness for her, for the terrors in her life. He wished she didn’t have to face the monsters she seemed to know all too well.
“Kahlan, what was that thing?”
She sat up, taking a deep breath as she looked down at him. Her hand came up and hooked some of her hair behind her ear; the rest fell forward over her shoulders.
“It was a long-tailed gar.”
Reaching out, she picked up one of the biting flies by its wings. Somehow it must have gotten caught in a fold of his shirt and was smashed when he flopped onto his back.
“This is a blood fly. Gars use them to hunt. The flies flush out the quarry, the gar grabs it. They smear some on themselves, for the flies. We are very lucky.” She held the blood fly right in front of his nose to make her point. “Long-tailed gars are stupid. If it had been a short-tailed gar, we would be dead right now. Short-tailed gars are bigger, and a lot smarter.” She paused to make sure she had his full attention. “They count their flies.”
He was frightened, exhausted, confused, and in pain. He wanted this nightmare to end. With a moan of frustration he sagged back down onto his back, not caring anymore about whatever it was that was poking him.
“Kahlan, after those men attacked us, and you didn’t want to tell me more about what is going on, I didn’t press you.” His eyes were closed. He couldn’t bear the scrutiny of her eyes. “Now someone is after me, too. For all I know, it could be the same person who murdered my father. It’s not just you anymore; I can’t go home either. I think I have a right to know at least some of what’s going on. I’m your friend, not your enemy.
“Once, when I was little, I got a fever and almost died. Zedd found a root that saved me. Until today, that was the only time I’ve ever been close to death. Today I was close three times. What do I…”
Her fingertips touched his lips to silence him.
“You’re right. I will answer your questions. Except about me. For now, I cannot.”
He sat up and looked at her. She was starting to shake with cold. Shrugging the straps of the pack off his shoulders, he pulled a blanket out and wrapped it around her.
“You promised me a fire,” she said as she shivered. “Is it a promise you intend to keep?”
He couldn’t help but to laugh as he got to his feet. “Sure. There’s a wayward pine right over there on the other side of the clearing. Or if you want there are others up the trail a little way.”
She looked up and gave him a worried frown.
“Right,” he smiled, “we’ll find another wayward pine up the trail.”
“What is a wayward pine?” she asked.
5
Richard held back the boughs of the tree. “This is a wayward pine,” he announced. “Friend to any traveler.”
It was dark inside. Kahlan held the boughs aside so he could see by the moonlight to strike steel to flint and start a fire. Clouds scudded across the moon, and they could see their breath in the cold air. Richard had stayed here before on trips to and from Zedd’s, and had made a small fire pit of stones. There was dry wood and to the far side a stack of dry grass he had used for bedding. Since he didn’t have his knife he was thankful he had left a supply of tinder. The fire was quickly started, filling the interior of the tree’s skirt with flickering light.
Richard was not quite able to stand under the branches where they began growing out from the trunk. The branches were bare near the trunk, with needles on the ends, leaving a hollow interior. The lower branches dipped all the way to the ground. The tree was fire-resistant, as long as one was careful. The smoke from the small fire curled up the center, near the trunk. The needles grew so thick that even in a good rain it remained dry inside. Richard had waited out many a rain in a wayward pine. He always enjoyed staying in the small but cozy shelters as he traveled the Hartland.
Now he was especially glad for its concealing shelter. Before their encounter with the long-tailed gar, there had been plants and animals in the forest he had strong respect for, but there had been nothing in the woods he feared.
Kahlan sat herself down cross-legged in front of the fire. She was still shivering and kept the blanket over her head formed into a hood, and held tightly up around her chin.
“I never heard of wayward pines before. I am not used to staying in the woods when I travel, but they look like a wonderful place to sleep.” She looked even more tired than he.
“When was the last time you slept?”
“Two days ago, I think. It has all become a blur.”
Richard was surprised she could keep her eyes open. When they were running from the quad, he had barely been able to keep up with her. It was her fear that pushed her on, he knew.
“Why so long?”
“It would be very unwise,” she said, “to go to sleep in the boundary.” Kahlan watched the fire, spellbound in its warm embrace, the light from it fluttering on her face. She loosened the blanket from around her chin and let it hang so she could put her hands out to warm them closer to the fire.
A chill ran through him when he wondered what was in the boundary, and what would happen if you went to sleep there.
“Hungry?”
She nodded her head.
Richard dug around in his pack, retrieving a pot, and went outside to fill it in a pool of water at a small brook they had passed a short distance back. Sounds of the night filled air so cold it felt as if it might break if he wasn’t careful. Once again he cursed himself for leaving home without his forest cloak, among other things. The memory of what had been waiting for him at his house made him shiver all the more.
Every bug that looped past made him recoil in fear it was a blood fly, and several times he froze in midstep, only to exhale in relief when he saw it was only a snowy tree cricket, or a moth, or a lacewing. Shadows melted and materialized as clouds passed in front of the moon. He didn’t want to, but he looked up anyway. Stars winked off and back on as soft, gauzelike clouds moved silently across the sky. All except one, which did not move.
He came back in, cold to the bone, and put the pot of water on the fire, balancing it on three stones. Richard started to sit across from her, but then changed his mind and sat next to her, telling himself it was because he was so cold. When she heard his teeth chattering, she put half the blanket around his shoulders, letting her half slip from her head down to her shoulders as well. The blanket, heated by her body, felt good around him, and he sat quietly letting the warmth soak in.
“I’ve never seen anything like a gar. The Midlands must be a dreadful place.”
“There are many dangers in the Midlands.” A wistful smile came over her face. “There are also many fantastic and magical things. It is a beautiful, wondrous place. But the gar are not from the Midlands. They are from D’Hara.”
He stared in astonishment. “D’Hara! From across the second boundary?”
D’Hara. Until his brother’s speech today he had never heard the name spoken in anything other than the cautious whispers of older people. Or in a curse. Kahlan continued to watch the fire.
“Richard—” She paused as if afraid to tell him the rest. “—there is no longer a second boundary. The boundary between the Midlands and D’Hara is down. Since the spring.”
That shock made him feel as if the shadowy D’Hara had just taken a frightening, giant leap closer. He struggled to make sense of the things he was learning.
“Maybe my brother is more of a prophet than he knows.”
“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.
“Although it would be hard to make a living as a prophet by predi
cting events that had already taken place.” He gave her a sidelong glance.
Kahlan smiled as she idly twisted a strand of hair. “When I first saw you, my thought was that you were no fool.” Firelight sparkled in her green eyes. “Thank you for not proving me wrong.”
“Michael is in a position to have knowledge others don’t. Maybe he’s trying to prepare the people, get them used to the idea, so when they find out, they won’t panic.”
Michael often said that information was the coin of power, and that it was not a coin to be spent frivolously. After he had become a councilor, he encouraged people to bring their information to him first. Even a farmer with a tale received an ear, and if the tale proved true, a favor.
The water was starting to boil. Richard leaned over, hooked his finger through a strap and pulled his pack to him, then rearranged the blanket. Rummaging around, he located the pouch of dried vegetables and poured some into the pot. From his pocket he pulled a napkin that held four fat sausages, which he broke up and tossed into the soup pot.
Kahlan looked surprised. “Where did those come from? Did you snatch those from your brother’s party?” Her voice carried a tone of disapproval.
“A good woodsman,” he said, licking his fingers and looking up at her, “always plans ahead and tries to know where his next meal will come from.”
“He will not think much of your manners.”
“I do not think much of his.” He knew he would get no argument from her on that point. “Kahlan, I won’t justify the way he acted. Ever since our mother died he’s been a hard person to be close to. But I know he cares about people. You have to, if you want to be a good councilor. It must be a lot of pressure. I certainly wouldn’t want the responsibility. But that’s all he ever wanted; to be someone important. And now that he’s First Councilor, he has what he’s always wanted. He should be satisfied, but he seems even less tolerant. He’s always busy, and always snapping orders. He is always in a bad mood lately. Maybe when he got what he wanted, it wasn’t what he thought it would be. I wish he could be more like he used to be.”
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