Naked Empire

by Angreal

  Richard found a quiet place where an old oak had fallen. He sat and leaned back against the trunk. He wished he never had to get up. If not for Kahlan, he wouldn't.

  Betty showed up. She stood before him, looking at him intently as if to ask what they were going to do next. When Richard said nothing, Betty lay down in front of him. It occurred to him that maybe Betty just wanted to offer him some comfort.

  Richard felt a tear run down his cheek. Everything was falling to pieces. He couldn't hold those pieces together any longer. He could hardly breathe past the lump in his throat.

  He lay down and put an arm over Betty.

  "What am I going to do?" He sniffled. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose.

  "Kahlan, what am I going to do?" he whispered in forlorn misery. "I need you so much. What am I going to do?"

  He was at the end of all hope.

  He had thought, when he'd seen Nathan unexpectedly arrive, that help was at hand. The bright ember of that last hope had been extinguished. Not even a powerful wizard could help him.

  Powerful wizard.

  Kaja-Rang.

  Richard froze.

  The words sent to him by Kaja-Rang, those two words emblazoned across the granite base of that statue, echoed through his mind.

  Those two words were meant for Richard.

  Taiga Vassternich.

  Deserve Victory.

  "Dear spirits..." Richard whispered.

  He understood.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 62

  Nicholas watched as Lord Rahl made his way back into the camp among his men after his despairing whispered last prayer to the dear spirits. So sad. So very sad that the man was going to die. He would soon be with his dear spirits ... in the Keeper's realm of the underworld.

  Nicholas relished the game. The poor Lord Rahl was so lost and confused. Nicholas wished the game could continue for a good long time, but Lord Rahl had little time left. So sad.

  But it would be much more fun after Lord Rahl died, after that last detail was finally finished. Jagang thought this pathetic man was resourceful. Don't underestimate him, Jagang had warned. Perhaps Jagang was no match for the great Richard Rahl, but Nicholas the Slide was.

  His spirit swelled with delight at the expectant thought of Lord Rahl's death. That was going to be something to watch. It would be a grand finale of the play of life. Nicholas intended to see it all, to see every sad moment of the last act. He imagined that Lord Rahl's friends would gather to weep and wail as they stood by, helpless, watching him slip into the welcoming embrace of death, eternity's shepherd, come to help him begin the magnificent, never-ending spiritual journey away from the bitter interlude that had been life.The final curtain was about to draw closed. Nicholas so loved sad endings. He could hardly wait to watch it played out.

  Hate to live, live to hate.

  Nicholas wondered, too, as did Lord Rahl, what would get him first, the poison or his gift. It seemed to tug first toward one, and then toward the other. For a time the headaches inflicted by his gift nearly put him down; then the poison would tighten its pain and make him gasp in agony. It was a fascinating question, one that, as in any good play, would not be answered until the very end. The tension was delicious.

  Nicholas was rooting for the gift to win the fatal contest. Poison was all well and good, but what a vastly more intriguing twist of fate it would be to see a wizard of Lord Rahl's ability and potential, a wizard unlike any to be born since an era long buried in the dunghill of mankind's history, succumb to his birthright—to his own vast but vain power ... another victim of men reaching too high in life. That would be a fascinating and fitting end.

  Not long to wait.

  Not long at all.

  Nicholas watched, not wanting to miss a single delectable detail. With the spirit of Richard Rahl's lovely bride beside him, as it were, Nicholas felt almost a part of the family as he attended the approach of such a great man's tragic end.

  Nicholas felt it only fair that the Mother Confessor should get to see it all played out, see the sad end to her beloved. As she watched along with Nicholas, she was suffering seeing the agony of it as Richard Rahl walked back into his camp.

  Nicholas savored her distress. He had not yet begun to make her suffer. He would soon have a very long time with her to explore her capacity for suffering.

  The people there in the woods around the campfire looked up, curious as their master returned among them. They all waited, with Nicholas, watching, with Nicholas, as their Lord Rahl stood over them. His figure wavered in the fire, as it did in Nicholas's vision. It was almost as if he were already but a spirit, about to drift away into the glorious oblivion of the dead.

  "I've figured it out," Lord Rahl told them. "I know how to attack the fortification."

  Nicholas's ears pricked up. What was this?

  "At first light we go in," Lord Rahl said. "Just as the sun breaks over the mountains. Right then, on the east side, we'll come in over the wall. The guards won't be able to see well because the sun will be in their eyes when they look in that direction. Men don't look where it's troublesome to look."

  "I like it," one of the other men said.

  "So we will sneak in, then, rather than try to attack," another said.

  "Oh, no, there will be an attack," Lord Rahl said. "A big attack. An attack that will set their heads to spinning."

  What was this? What was this? Nicholas watched, watched, watched. This was most curious. First Lord Rahl was going to sneak over the wall, and then he would have his men attack? How was he going to set their heads to spinning? Nicholas was fascinated.

  He moved in a little closer, fearing to miss a precious word.

  "The attack will involve all the rest of you men," Lord Rahl said. "You will all come in toward the gate at first light. While you're attacking through the gate and drawing their attention, I will be slipping over the wall. While you will be there to distract them, in part, you will play an even more vital role that they will never expect."

  The game was afoot. Nicholas was in rapture as he listened, as he watched. He so liked the game—especially when he knew all the rules, and could bend them to his wishes. It was going to be a glorious day, tomorrow.

  "But, Lord Rahl," the big man, Tom, asked, "how are we going to be able to attack through the gate if it's as formidable as you say?"

  Nicholas hadn't thought of that. How curious. A key part of Lord Rahl's plan seemed to be faulty.

  "That's the real trick," Lord Rahl said. "I've already figured it out and you'll be amazed to hear how you're going to do it."

  He had already figured it out? How curious. Nicholas wanted to hear what possible solution could solve such a major hitch in Lord Rahl's plan.

  Lord Rahl stretched and yawned. "Look," he said, "I'm exhausted. I can't stand up anymore. I need to get some rest before I lay it all out for you. It's complicated, so I'd better wait until just before we leave.

  "Wake me up two hours before dawn, and I'll explain the whole thing, then."

  "Two hours before dawn," Tom repeated in confirmation of the orders.

  Nicholas was furious. He wanted to hear it now. He wanted to know the wonderful, fabulous, complicated plan.

  Lord Rahl gestured to his delicious companion, the one named Cara, and then to several of the young men. "Why don't you come with me and get some sleep while the rest finish their meal."

  As they started away, Lord Rahl turned back. "Jennsen, I want you to keep Betty here, with you. Make sure she stays here. I need some sleep; I don't need the smell of goat to wake me up."

  "Am I going with you in the morning, Richard?" the one called Jennsen asked.

  "Yes. You play an important part in the plan." Lord Rahl yawned again. "I'll explain after I've slept. Don't forget, Tom. Two hours before dawn."

  Tom nodded. "I will wake you myself, Lord Rahl."

  Nicholas would be there as well, to watch, to hear the final piece of Lord Rahl's plan. Nicholas could h
ardly stand to wait that long. He would be there early. He would hear every word of it.

  And then, Nicholas would have a surprise waiting for Richard Rahl when he and his men came for a visit.

  Maybe neither the poison nor his gift would take Lord Rahl.

  Maybe Nicholas would do it himself.

  Her spirit a helpless prisoner of the Slide, Kahlan could do nothing but watch along with him. She was unable to answer Richard's forlorn pleas, unable to cry in sorrow for him, unable to do anything. She ached to be able to hold him in her arms again, to comfort his pain, his heartache.

  He was near the end. She knew that. It broke her heart to see his precious life slipping away.

  To see his tears.

  To hear him cry her name in longing.

  To hear him say how much he needed her.

  She felt so cold and alone. She loathed the feeling of being adrift. She desperately wanted to be back in her body. It waited somewhere back in a lonely room in the fortified encampment. Nicholas's body waited there, too. If only she could get back there.

  Most of all, she wished there were some way she could warn Richard that Nicholas knew his plan.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 63

  Nicholas lay in wait in the camp, sniffing, listening, watching, eager for the game to continue. He had come early, fearing to miss anything. He was sure it had to be two hours before dawn—time for the last act of the play. It was time for the man, Tom, to wake Lord Rahl. It was time. Watch, watch, watch. Where was he? Somewhere, somewhere. Look, look, look.

  Men off through the trees stood guard over the camp. Where was Tom? There he was. Nicholas saw that Tom was one of the men standing vigil as others slept. Didn't want to be late. Lord Rahl's orders. He wasn't sleeping, he was awake, so he should know it was time.

  What was the man waiting for? His master had given him a command. Why wasn't he doing as he had been told?

  The woman, Jennsen, woke and rubbed her eyes. She looked up and took appraisal of the stars and moon. It was time—she knew it was. She threw off her blanket.

  Nicholas followed behind as she rushed past the low glow of the smoldering embers, rushed through the stand of young trees, rushed to the big man leaning against a stump.

  "Tom, isn't it time to wake Richard?"

  Somewhere back in a distant room in the fortification, where his body waited, Nicholas heard an insistent noise. He was absorbed in the task at hand, in the game, so he ignored the sound.

  Probably Najari. The man was eager to have a chance to get at the Mother Confessor, a chance to enjoy her more feminine charms. Nicholas had told Najari that he would have his chance, but he had to wait until Nicholas returned. Nicholas didn't want the man tampering with her body while they were gone. Najari sometimes didn't know his own strength. The Mother Confessor was valuable property and Nicholas didn't want that property damaged.

  Najari had proven to be a loyal man and deserved a small reward, but not until later. He would not disobey Nicholas's orders. He would be sorry if he did.

  Maybe it was just—

  Wait, wait. What was this? Watch, watch, watch. The man stood and put a hand reassuringly on the young woman's shoulder. How very touching.

  "Yes, I guess it is about time. Let's go wake Lord Rahl."

  Again the noise. Stealthy, sharp yet soft.

  Most odd. But it would have to wait.

  Through the woods. Hurry. Watch, watch, watch. Hurry. Couldn't they move faster? Didn't they grasp the importance of the occasion? Hurry, hurry, hurry.

  "Betty," the Jennsen woman growled, "stop bumping my legs."

  Again there was a skulking sound back somewhere with his body.

  And then, another, more urgent sound.

  This time, the sound ran a sharp shiver through Nicholas's very soul.

  It was as deadly a sound as he had ever heard.

  As the Sword of Truth cleared its scabbard, the distinctive ring of steel filled the dimly lit room.

  With the sword came ancient magic, unhindered, unrestrained, unleashed.

  The sword's power instantly inundated Richard with its boundless fury, a fury that answered only to him. The force of that power flooded into every fiber of his being. It had been so long since he had truly felt it, truly felt the full magnitude of it, that for an instant Richard paused in the exaltation of the profound experience of simply holding such a singular weapon.

  His own righteous wrath had already slipped its bounds. Joined now with the pure rage of the Sword of Truth, both spiraled through him like twin storms rampaging unchecked.

  Richard gloried that they could, and at being the ultimate master of both.

  The Seeker of Truth willed both storms ever onward even as the sword began its fearsome journey, the merciless lightning of those thunderheads about to strike.

  The tip of the blade whistled though the night air, still two hours before dawn.

  Hesitant and uncertain, Nicholas watched as the man, Tom, and the Jennsen woman moved through the woods to awaken their dying Lord Rahl.

  Somewhere back in a distant room in the fortification, where his body waited, Nicholas heard a scream.

  It was not a scream of fear, but a riotous cry of unbridled rage. It sent a shiver through his soul.

  With sudden alarm, knowing that it could not be ignored, Nicholas slammed back into his body where it sat on the floor, waiting for him.

  Unsteady from the abrupt return, Nicholas blinked as he opened his eyes.

  Lord Rahl himself stood before him, feet spread, both hands gripping his sword. It was a picture of sheer muscular force focused by terrifying resolve.

  Nicholas's eyes went wide at seeing the gleaming blade arcing through the still air.

  Lord Rahl was in the midst of a scream of startling power and rage. Every bit of his might was committed to the swing of his sword.

  Nicholas had a sudden and completely unexpected realization: he didn't want to die. He very much wanted to live. As much as he hated life, he realized, now, that he wanted to hold on to it.

  He had to act.

  He summoned his power, rallied his will. He had to stop this avenging soul before him. He reached out with his power to seize this other's spirit. He felt the horrifying shock of a staggering blow against the side of his neck.

  Richard was still screaming as his sword, with every ounce of power and speed he could put behind it, swept around, just clearing the top of Nicholas's left shoulder.

  Richard saw every detail as the blade tore through flesh and bone, turning muscle, tendon, arteries, and windpipe inside out, following with precision the path to which the Seeker had justly committed it. Richard had dedicated everything to the swift journey of his sword. Now, he watched as that journey reached its destination, as the blade cleared the neck of Nicholas the Slide, as the man's head, its mouth still opened in the beginning of shock not fully comprehended, his beady eyes still trying to grasp the totality of what they were seeing, lifted into the air, beginning to turn ever so slowly as the sword below it passed along its deadly arc, as curved ropes of the man's blood began tracing a long wet line across the wall behind him.

  Richard's scream ended as the sword's swing reached its limit. The world came crashing back around him.

  The head hit the floor with a loud, bone-cracking thunk.

  It was ended.

  Richard recalled the rage. He had to get it under control immediately. He had something yet more important to accomplish.

  In one fluid motion, Richard slid the bloody blade home into its scabbard as he turned to the second body leaned up against the wall to the right.

  The sight of her almost overcame him. To see her there, alive, breathing, seemingly unhurt, brought a wild rush of joy. His worst fears, fears he would not even allow into his conscious mind, evaporated in an instant.

  But then he realized that she was not all right. She could not have slept through such an attack.

  Richard fell to his knees and took her up i
n his arms. She felt so light, so limp. Her face was ashen and beaded with sweat. Her eyelids were half closed, her eyes rolled back in her head.

  Richard sank back within himself, seeking strength to bring back the one he loved more than life itself. He opened his soul to her. All he wanted, all he needed, as he held her to him, was for her to live, to be whole.

  Instinctively, in a way he did not fully understand, he let his power well up from a place deep inside his mind. He released himself into the torrent as it rushed onward. He let his love of her, his need of her, flood through their connection as he hugged her to his breast.

  "Come home to where you belong," he whispered to her.

  He let the core of his power course through her, intending it to be like a beacon to light her way. It felt as if he were searching through the dark, using the light of ability from deep within to help him. Even though he couldn't define the precise mechanism, he could consciously focus his purpose, his need, and what he wanted to accomplish.

  "Come home to me, Kahlan. I'm here."

  Kahlan gasped. Even though she hung limp, he felt the intensity of the life in his arms. She gasped again, as if she had nearly drowned and needed air.

  At last, she stirred in his arms, her limbs moving, groping. She opened her eyes, blinking, and looked up. Astonished, she sank back into his arms.

  "Richard ... I heard you. I was so alone. Dear spirits, I was so alone. I didn't know what to do... I heard Nicholas scream. I was lost and alone. I didn't know how to get back. And then I felt you."

  She embraced him tightly, as if she never wanted to let go.

  "You led me back through the darkness."

  Richard smiled down at her. "I'm a guide, remember?"

  She puzzled at him. "How could you do that?" Her beautiful green eyes opened expectantly. "Richard, your gift..."

  "I figured out the problem with my gift. Kaja-Rang had given me the solution. I'd had the solution long before that, but I never realized it. My gift is fine, now, and the sword's power works again. I was being so blind that I will be ashamed to tell it all to you."