Chainfire: Chainfire Trilogy Part 1 tsot-9

by Terry Goodkind

  Chapter 17

  After pulling his pack from the rubble, Richard briefly cleaned himself up and put on a shirt. He also put on his sword.

  He didn’t know what had crashed into the building, but it seemed pretty likely that it had been coming for him. He had no idea if his sword would help him fight such a thing, but it did make him feel a little better having it at hand.

  Outside the night air was still and warm. One of the men saw him emerge from the door and stepped closer.

  “How is Mistress Cara?”

  “We don’t know, yet. She’s alive—that’s encouraging, at least.”

  The man nodded.

  Richard recognized the man’s hat. “You were the one who saw me hanging from the window?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you get a look at the thing that attacked us?”

  “I’m afraid not. I heard all the commotion, looked up, and there you were hanging by one arm. I thought you might fall. That’s all I saw.”

  “No dark thing coming out of the window?”

  The man clasped his hands behind his back as he thought about it a moment. “No—except maybe I might have just caught the shadow of something. At the most, that’s all I might have seen, a glimpse of a shadow. I was more concerned with getting up there before you fell.”

  After thanking the man, Richard walked for a time without really thinking about where he was going. He felt as if he were in a daze, his thoughts as heavy and dark as the muggy night. Everything he knew and cared about seemed to be disintegrating. He felt helpless.

  The murky humidity obscured the stars and the moon hadn’t come up yet, but the lights burning in the city all around reflecting off the haze provided enough light for him to make his way to the edge of the hill. He felt useless, not being able to help Cara. She had so many times been there to help him. This time she had faced something that was more than she could handle.

  At the brink of the drop, Richard stood for a time gazing off at the statue of Spirit in the distance. Victor had made the ring of iron stanchions that held the torches. Kahlan, fascinated by the process, had stood for must of a day in the blacksmith’s sweltering shop watching him shape the white hot iron. Victor had not frowned once that day, but had smiled at her genuine interest as he showed her how he worked the metal to achieve what he wanted.

  Richard also remembered Kahlan’s awe at seeing that carving of hers being reproduced in towering white marble. He remembered when that small statue in buttery smooth, rich, aromatic walnut was finally returned to her and she had clutched it to her breast. He had watched the way her fingers had glided lovingly over the flowing robes. Richard remembered, too, the way her green eyes had then looked up into his eyes.

  Having no one believe him about Kahlan made him feel completely alone and isolated. He’d never been in a situation like this before, where people—people who sincerely cared about him—thought that he was only imagining the things he told them. It was a frightening, helpless feeling to have people think he was out of touch with reality.

  But even that was not nearly as frightening as his worry about what might have become of Kahlan.

  He didn’t know what to do to find her. All he knew for sure was that he had to get help. He didn’t know if that help would be forthcoming, but he fully intended to do whatever was necessary to make sure he got it.

  After a time, he made his way back to the inn. Jamila was at the bottom of the stairs sweeping up dust and bits of plaster.

  She eyed him as he walked in. “You must pay for this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  With the handle of her broom, she pointed up the stairs. “The damage. I have seen the place up there. You must pay for fixing it.”

  Richard was taken aback. “But I didn’t do it.”

  “It is your fault.”

  “My fault? I was in my room. I didn’t cause the damage and I don’t know what did.”

  “You and the woman were the only two in rooms up there. The rooms were fine when you look them. Now they are a mess. It will cost a lot to fix them. I didn’t cause the damage—why should I have to pay? The damage is your fault so you must pay—including for the loss of rent while they an being repaired.”

  She had demanded he pay for fixing the rooms without first asking how Cara was, or even expressing concern for her.

  “I will give Ishaq my permission to deduct the cost from what he owe me.” Richard glared at the woman. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

  With the back of his hand he pushed her aside as he stepped past her into the dark hall. She huffed at him before turning back to her sweeping. Not knowing where else to go, he paced slowly up and down the hall Jamila finally finished collecting the debris from the first floor and trim died off to other business as he continued to pace. He finally sat with his back against the wall opposite the door to Nicci’s room. He didn’t know what else to do, where else to go. He wanted to see Cara.

  Richard drew his knees up and locked his fingers over them. He rested his chin on the back of his hands as he thought about what Jamila had said.

  In a way, she was right. The thing had been coming for him. Had he not been there it wouldn’t have happened. If anyone else had been hurt or killed he would really be to blame for bringing danger near them. If not for him, Cara wouldn’t be hurt.

  He cautioned himself to put the blame on the guilty. That was Jagang and those working toward his goals. It was Jagang who had ordered the creation of the beast that was coming after Richard. Cara had simply been in the way. Cara had been trying to protect him from what Jagang and the Sisters of the Dark had created.

  As Richard thought about Victor’s men who had been killed a few days back, probably by that same beast, he couldn’t help but to feel the awful weight of guilt.

  And yet, the thing that had come into the inn had not harmed him. Richard had no doubt that it would have, but then it had simply vanished before its sinister work was finished. He couldn’t imagine why it would do such a thing. Or why it had come through the walls the way it had. After all, if it went out the window, why didn’t it just break in through the window in the first place? Whatever it was had demonstrated awareness by heading right for his room. Had it come in the window it would likely have had him before he knew what was happening. The thing that had killed Victor’s men had behaved differently. Cara had not been ripped to shreds in the way they had, although it was clear that she had been seriously hurt.

  He began to question that it really had been the same creature that had killed Victor’s men. What if Jagang had created more than one beast, more then one weapon to come after him? What if the Sisters of the Dark had spawned an army of creatures to hunt him? All the questions seemed to swirl around in his mind, unable to form into answers.

  Richard jumped when Nicci shook his shoulder. He realized that he must have fallen asleep.

  “What?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it? How long has it been . . .”

  “It’s been a few hours,” Nicci said in a quiet, tired voice. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  Richard rose expectantly to his feet. “Cara’s all right, then? You healed her?”

  Nicci stared at him for what seemed an eternity. It felt to Richard, as he looked into Nicci’s timeless eyes, as if his heart were coming up in his throat.

  “Richard,” she finally said in a voice so soft and compassionate that it made his breathing stop, “Cara isn’t going to make it.”

  Richard blinked at the words, trying to be certain that he understood what Nicci was really saying.

  “I don’t understand.” He cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

  Nicci gently laid a hand on his arm. “I think you should come in and see her while she is still with us.”

  Richard seized her shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

  “Richard . . .” Nicci’s gaze sank to the floor. “Cara isn’t going to make it. She is dying. She won’t live the
night.”

  Richard tried to retreat from the sorceress, but his back met the wall. “From what? What’s wrong with her?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. She’s been touched by something that has—has brought death into her. I don’t know how to explain it because I don’t really know exactly what she is dying from. All I know is that it has overwhelmed her body’s defenses and moment by moment she is slipping away.”

  “But Cara is strong. She’ll fight it. She’ll make it.”

  Nicci was shaking her head. “No, Richard, she won’t. I don’t want to give you false hope. She is dying. I think she may even want to die.”

  Richard came forward off the wall. “What? That’s crazy. She has no reason to want to die.”

  “You can’t say that, Richard. You don’t know what she is going through. You don’t know her reasons. Maybe the suffering is too much for her. Maybe she can’t endure the pain and she only wants it to end.”

  “If not for herself, Cara would do anything to stay alive in order to protect me.”

  Nicci licked her lips as she gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe you’re right, Richard.”

  Richard didn’t like being humored. He looked from the door back to the sorceress. “Nicci, you can save her. You know how to do such things.”

  “Look, you had better come see her before . . .”

  “You have to do something. You have to.”

  Nicci hugged her arms around herself. She looked away, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “I swear, Richard, I tried everything I knew or could think of. Nothing was of any help. Death already has her spirit and I can no longer reach that far. She is breathing, but barely. Her heart is weak and nearly gone. Her whole body is shutting down as she slips away. I’m not even sure that she is really even still alive in the sense we think of as a person being alive. She is only here by a thread, and that thread will not hold for long.”

  “But, can’t . . .” He could think of no words to hold back the weight of grief beginning to slide in on him.

  “Please, Richard,” Nicci whispered, “come see her before she is gone. Say what you would to her while you have the chance. You will forever hate yourself if you don’t.”

  Richard felt numb as Nicci led him into the room. This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t. This was Cara. Cara was like the sun; she couldn’t die. She was—she was his friend. She couldn’t die.

  Chapter 18

  The feeble glow of two lanterns failed to do much to brighten the murky room. The smaller one sat on a table in the corner, as if cowering in the presence of death itself. The other stood on a bedside table beside a glass of water and a damp cloth, struggling to hold the gathered shadows ill bay. A brocade bedcover with luxuriant gold fringe was draped over Cara, her arms limp atop it, one of its corners hanging down over the side of the bed to puddle on the floor.

  Cara didn’t look like Cara. She looked cadaverous. Even in the golden light of the lamp, her face looked ashen. Richard didn’t see her breathing.

  He could hardly draw a breath himself. He could feel his knees trembling. The lump in his throat seemed as if it might choke him. He wanted to fall on her and beg her to wake.

  Nicci leaned close, gently touching Cara’s face. Her fingers slid down to the side of her neck. Richard noticed that Cara’s terrible shuddering had finally ceased. He didn’t think that was the good news it might appear to be.

  “Is she—is she . . .”

  Nicci looked back over her shoulder. “She’s still breathing, but I’m afraid it’s coming slower.”

  Richard worked his tongue, wetting the roof of his mouth so that he could form words. “You know, Cara has a man she cares about.”

  “She does? Really?”

  Richard nodded. “Most people don’t think that Mord-Sith can ever really care about anyone, but they can. Cara cares about a soldier. General Meiffert. Benjamin cares for her, too.”

  “You know him?”

  “Yes. He’s a good man.” Richard stared at the blond braid lying over Cara’s shoulder and out over the brocade bedcover. “I haven’t seen him in ages. He’s with the D’Haran army.”

  Nicci looked skeptical. “And Cara admitted to you that she cares about this man?”

  Richard shook his head as he stared at Cara’s familiar face. Her beautiful face was now sunken and pale and only looked like a ghost of her former self.

  “No. Kahlan told me. The two of them became pretty close over the course of the year they were with the D’Haran army while you had me down here in Altur’Rang.”

  Nicci looked away and fussed with the covers over Cara. As Richard stepped closer, Nicci moved over to a chair beside the table to be out of his way. He felt as if he were outside of his own body, watching from somewhere above, watching himself go to one knee, watching himself take up Cara’s cold hand, watching himself hold it to his cheek.

  “Dear spirits, don’t do this to her,” he whispered. “Please,” he added with a choking sob, “don’t take her.”

  He looked over at Nicci. “She wanted to die as a Mord-Sith, fighting for our cause, not in bed.”

  Nicci offered the smallest of smiles. “She had her wish.”

  The words, making it sound as if Cara was already dead, hit him like a blow. He couldn’t allow this to happen. He just couldn’t. Kahlan was gone, and now this. He just couldn’t let it happen.

  He cupped a hand to Cara’s icy face. It felt like touching the dead. Richard swallowed back the tears.

  “Nicci, you’re a sorceress. You saved me when I was near death. No one else but you would have ever been able to come up with a solution. No one but you could have saved me. Isn’t there anything at all that you can think of to do for Cara?”

  Nicci slipped forward off the chair to kneel beside him. She took up his hand and held it to her lips. He felt a tear fall onto the back of the hand she so tenderly held, as if she were a humble subject beseeching her king’s forgiveness.

  “I’m so sorry, Richard, but there isn’t. I hope you know that I would do anything it took if I could save her, but I can’t. This is beyond my ability. A time comes when we all have to die. Her time has come and I can’t change it.”

  Richard blinked at the watery sight of the death scene, the room barely lit by the weak light of two small flames. The bed holding Cara seemed to float by itself in that light, with darkness waiting all around her.

  He nodded. “Nicci, please, could you leave me alone with her? I want to be alone with her when the times comes that—It’s nothing against you. It’s just that I think I should be alone with her.”

  “I understand, Richard.” Nicci’s fingers touched his back as she stood and then, as if reluctant to break that contact with the living, trailed along his shoulder as she moved past. “I’ll be close by if you need me,” she said as her living touch ended.

  The door softly shut behind her, leaving the room in silence. Even though the heavy drapes were closed over the window, Richard could hear the ceaseless chorus of the cicadas outside.

  He could no longer hold back the tears. He laid his head on Cara’s middle as he sobbed, clutching her limp hand.

  “Cara, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. It was after me, not you. I’m so sorry. Please, Cara, don’t leave me. I need you so much.”

  Cara was the only one who followed him because she believed in him. She might have agreed with Nicci that he was dreaming up Kahlan, but she still believed in him. With Cara, that wasn’t a contradiction. More and more lately, it seemed that her faith in him was all that was holding him together and keeping him focused on what he had to do. There were frightening moments when he no longer knew if he believed in himself. It was so hard to face an entire world that thought he was delusional. It was so hard to do what he believed in when almost no one believed in him. But Cara believed in him even if she didn’t believe in Kahlan’s existence. There was something unique about that sentiment, something unlike even Nicci or Victor’s respect fo
r him.

  He held Cara’s face in both hands as he kissed her forehead.

  He hoped she wasn’t suffering. He hoped it was a peaceful end to a life I hat had been anything but peaceful.

  She was so pale, her breathing so shallow.

  Her flesh felt as cold as death.

  Hating that she was so cold, Richard pulled the bedcover aside as he leaned over and slipped his arms around her, hoping that his warmth would help her.

  “Take my warmth,” he whispered in her ear. “Take all you need. Please, Cara, take warmth from me.”

  Lying there holding her, Richard descended into a fog of agony. He knew how much this woman had suffered. He knew what her life had been like, he knew how much she had been hurt, he had endured some of the things she had endured under the mad rule of his father, Darken Rahl. He had suffered some of the same pain and hopelessness. Perhaps more than anyone else, he could truly empathize with her. He knew how strangers had taken her into a world of pain and madness. Richard knew because he had been there, too. He had so wanted to bring her back from that dark and terrible place.

  “Take my warmth, Cara. I’m here for you.”

  He opened himself to her, opened his need to her, opened himself to her need.

  He clutched her tightly in his arms as he wept against her shoulder. He almost felt that if he were to hold her tight enough, she couldn’t slip away into death.

  Richard could feel as he held her in his arms that she was still alive and he couldn’t bear for that to end. He wished so much that Nicci could have done something. If anyone deserved to be healed, it was Cara. At that moment, more than anything, he wanted her to be healed.

  Richard opened himself, his very soul, to that purpose.

  He released himself into his empathy for this woman who had given him so much. More than once she had risked her life to follow his orders. She had often risked her life for him in open defiance of his orders. She had followed him across the world. Countless times she had placed herself between danger and his and Kahlan’s lives. Cara deserved life, deserved all the goodness in life. He wanted nothing but to make her whole again. He gave all of himself over to that desire. He held back nothing in his focused need to have Cara stay among the living.