Warheart

by Terry Goodkind

  He slid off the edge of the bed and stood, feeling the weight of life, feeling the weight of responsibility, feeling life coursing through his veins, feeling the joy and the sorrow and the duty of being alive again.

  Life was a gift. He was not going to waste that gift.

  Richard lifted the sword, touching it to his forehead as he closed his eyes. In the background he could hear the eager cries of the attacking enemy. They were battle cries his sword was created to meet, cries he was born to counter.

  “Blade,” he whispered, “be true this day.”

  CHAPTER

  21

  The drizzle had started again, making the cool, damp air feel miserable. Tattered-looking, leaden clouds drifted silently by low overhead. None of the gathered soldiers spoke. Most stood with their heads bowed. These men, like all of the First File, had known Cara. She had been Richard and Kahlan’s closest protector. Her husband, Ben, had been their general and had been the one who had led these soldiers into the Dark Lands to find Richard and Kahlan and bring them back to the People’s Palace. Ben had died while helping them all escape from Hannis Arc’s trap in the third kingdom.

  The People’s Palace was still far off, their mission still unrealized.

  Now, Cara’s funeral pyre was but a smoldering heap, sending waves of heat and wisps of smoke curling gently up into the dead-still air. The terrible job completed, there was nothing left but ashes and memories.

  While Cara was hardly the only one who had died in the struggle against the spirit king and Hannis Arc, or against Emperor Jagang and the Imperial Order before them, she symbolized for those gathered all the kindred spirits they had lost along the way, all those who had paid the ultimate price for what they all believed in. She had been an inspiration as well as a fierce defender.

  Richard could never be grateful enough to Cara for all the times she had protected Kahlan when he couldn’t be there. Cara, perhaps better than anyone, recognized the importance of a Lord Rahl who not only loved a woman, but loved life. It had been a very long time since that had been true. That was one reason why Cara had fought so fiercely to protect him. She instinctively knew that he, like Kahlan, had come into the world for a purpose. Cara’s purpose, taken up of her free will, had been to be part of that cause by protecting him.

  Now, Richard felt numb. He could hardly believe that she was gone. Cara had been at his side for so long, fighting for him and with him, that she had come to be a sister to him, an ever-present protector and companion. It hurt all the more knowing that she had given up her life so that he might live.

  He felt guilty, felt responsible, for her death.

  Richard knew that most of the soldiers were more than a little astonished that he was actually back from the dead, that he was really alive and among them again, but for these men of the First File it was also expected that the Lord Rahl could do the kind of remarkable things that they could not imagine. After all, while they were the steel against steel, he was the magic against magic. That magic was a largely alien mystery to them, but they had many times seen its power.

  The soldiers had been stunned when Richard had charged out the broken doorway, once again alive and once again coming to help them fight off the half people that had flooded into the citadel. Though there had been a large horde of the half people invading the place, they hadn’t been what Richard had at first expected. They were not Shun-tuk sent by the spirit king and Hannis Arc.

  These had been a tribe of half people who had come out to hunt for souls now that the walls closing off the third kingdom had been breached. They were just as intent on devouring the living in the hope of stealing a soul for themselves, but they were not as good at fighting as the emperor’s legions of Shun-tuk. Even so, besides invading the citadel, they had also killed a number of people down in the city of Saavedra.

  Richard had led the soldiers down into the city to root out the last of them. They weren’t hard to find. They didn’t run from soldiers. They came out of buildings and alleyways, seeing Richard and the men of the First File as more opportunities to gain a soul for themselves. Instead of getting a soul, they had been cut down with the ruthless efficiency that only the men of the First File and Richard’s blade could deliver.

  Unlike Cara’s farewell, a pit had been dug for the hundreds of dead half people. No one said words over them. No one would miss them. No one would remember them.

  As Richard turned to the three Mord-Sith behind him, he reached up and lifted Cara’s Agiel off from around his neck.

  “I have worn the of Agiel of a number of women who have died for me,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I can’t bear to wear this one. It will only remind me of all the ways in which I failed her. I would like to pass it on to you, Cassia, in the hope that, instead of pain, some of her strength will pass on to you.”

  Cassia nodded, fearing to test her voice. Like most Mord-Sith, she didn’t know quite how to react to being treated with respect. Once captured as young women and trained as Mord-Sith, they were treated as little more than savage hounds on a chain, beaten to keep them vicious and make sure they followed orders.

  Richard placed the chain over Cassia’s bowed head, and then, after rolling the red Agiel in his fingers for a moment, he carefully let it lie against her chest. He reached back and pulled her blond braid out from under the chain so it could rest around her neck, then arranged her braid over the front of her shoulder, admiring Cara’s Agiel at the end of the chain.

  “Lord Rahl,” she finally said when she found her voice and looked up, “I am not the equal of Cara. I am not–”

  He put his fingers to her lips, silencing her. “Yes you are, Cassia. You and Laurin and Vale made the same choice as she did to be free. That shows your strength. You are an individual, strong in your own way, with unique talents and abilities. We will be well served if you are simply yourself and don’t try to be like someone else.”

  Cassia nodded, looking a little relieved. “I will carry it with honor. It will give me strength as I remember her strength.” She gestured to Laurin and Vale. “The three of us together will be as strong as Cara was.”

  Richard smiled. “Let’s hope you are not three times the trouble.”

  Her brow twitched with a little frown. “As long as you allow us to protect you as only we can, then we will not be any trouble at all.”

  Mord-Sith always thought they knew best how to protect the Lord Rahl. Richard shared a knowing glance with Kahlan. She returned a small smile. He was heartened to see her smile.

  Cassia flicked her own Agiel, hanging on a fine gold chain from her right wrist, up into her hand. She hesitated for a moment. “But, Lord Rahl, I don’t understand. You are back and seem well again, yet our Agiel still do not work. The bond is not there to make them function. We still feel nothing.”

  At hearing this, Nicci abruptly stepped forward. “What do you mean they don’t work?”

  Cassia shrugged. “They don’t work. We can’t feel the bond to the Lord Rahl, so we can’t feel any power from our Agiel. It is the same as it was before Lord Rahl died.”

  Nicci glanced at the other two Mord-Sith. They shook their heads, confirming that they didn’t feel the bond, either.

  The sorceress turned a suspicious scowl on Richard and without asking placed a hand against his forehead. She jerked her hand back almost as soon as she had touched him.

  Looking shaken, Nicci pushed her long blond hair back over her shoulder. “You still have the poison in you from the Hedge Maid’s touch.” She gestured to Kahlan. “When she came back, it was gone–left in the underworld. You still have it.”

  It sounded like an accusation. Although he was doing his best to ignore it, Richard could feel the pain of that deadly sickness deep inside. When he had come out of the bedroom to fight the invaders, the rage of the sword had blocked the ache of the poisonous infection. But now that the sword was back in its sheath, he again felt the full weight of the sickness.

  “I took that t
ouch of death out of Kahlan when I was there with her in the underworld. I can’t explain how I did it. I just did. But I couldn’t take it out of myself. I still carry it.”

  In alarm, Kahlan seized his arm. “You still have that infection in you? You came back to the world of life only to die? Richard, you can’t–”

  “I came back,” Richard said, cutting her off. He had more important things on his mind and didn’t want to get into it right then and there. “That’s what matters. Even though I carry that same taint of death, I came back so that I can stop Emperor Sulachan and Hannis Arc.”

  “If you live that long,” Nicci said under her breath. “Richard, you know better than me that if it’s not removed, that poison is fatal.”

  “I do.”

  “But I don’t understand why you couldn’t leave it in the world of the dead,” Kahlan said, her exasperated expression darkened by fear and dread. “That is the perfect place to leave that vile poison. The world of the dead is the perfect containment field for the touch of death.”

  “I couldn’t do that.” He waved away further discussion of the topic. He was already in a bad enough mood over Cara. “Look, I’m back. That’s what matters for now. Sulachan is like that poisonous touch of death loose in the world of life. We have to stop everyone from dying, not just me. I came back to do that. That is the priority.

  “At least being in the world of the dead for a time caused the sickness to dissipate somewhat. It bought me at least a few more days.”

  Nicci was beside herself with bottled fury. “A few more days? Are you really sure or are you just saying that?”

  “You felt it. For now it isn’t as strong as it was before. It’s still there, and it will once again advance the same way it did before, but for the moment it’s a little better. It will take some time for it to catch back up. That buys me some time.”

  Not willing to take his word for it, Nicci put her fingers to his temples on either side of his head. He could feel the tingle of her magic probing deep within his skull; then it felt like tiny flickers of lightning dancing down his spine and his arms to his fingertips, stinging as it went down his legs.

  She finally pulled her hands away, looking a bit more composed. “He’s right. It’s not as strong, but it will be within days.”

  Kahlan glanced impatiently toward the southwest. “We have to get him to the containment field at the People’s Palace so you can pull the poison out of him.”

  Nicci hesitated. “I think the palace may be too far away.”

  By her answer and by the way the sickness felt, Richard knew that it was too far to make it there in time.

  “There are horses here,” Kahlan said, not ready to give up so easily.

  Richard nodded. “Yes, but Sulachan and Hannis Arc are heading there and they already have a big head start. Even if we race for the palace, getting past those forces won’t be easy. Worse, and more likely, if they beat us there then getting through the horde of them surrounding the plateau in order to get into the palace will not be at all easy.”

  Kahlan folded her arms in frustration as she shook her head. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t have left the poison there, in the underworld, like you did with me. Why wouldn’t it work for you to leave it there?”

  “Balance,” Red said into the drizzle.

  “What?” Kahlan asked, turning to the witch woman.

  “Many things had to be in balance for him to return to the world of life. This must have been one of the things that had to be.”

  Kahlan was clearly not ready to concede this point, either. “Well, I don’t see–”

  The witch woman suddenly grabbed Richard’s arm and pulled urgently. “You need to move.”

  Richard frowned as she began dragging him away. “Why?”

  “That guard tower is going to fall where you are standing.”

  CHAPTER

  22

  Richard was at a loss as to why the witch woman so suddenly believed the tower was about to fall, but it was clear that she did. As he allowed her to lead him away he glanced back at the unassuming tower constructed of heavy stone blocks. Constructed back at the same time as the citadel, during the great war, it was as solid as the rock it was made from. It had stood on that spot for thousands of years, watching over the road up from Saavedra below. A couple of other towers on the other side of the citadel watched over the trackless dark forest beyond.

  Like so many things in this part of the Dark Lands, it was part of the precautions having to do with the barrier to the third kingdom. This particular guard tower had been invaluable in alerting the men of the First File of the attack by the half people. No doubt that had been a part of its ancient intent. He had trouble imagining why the solidly built tower that had stood for so long would abruptly fall over. But he knew enough about witch women in general to take her seriously.

  Richard didn’t really know much about this particular witch woman. Kahlan had gone without him to see Red before, so he had met her only after returning from the underworld. She had helped Nicci in that journey into darkness to come and help find a way for him to return.

  “Hurry!” Red growled at them, not satisfied at how fast he was moving as she dragged him away. “Move back!”

  When he saw that the soldiers were not moving, and looked confused, Richard signaled with his free arm. “Back! Everyone move back!”

  Confused men finally scattered at his command.

  “What is it?” Kahlan asked as she followed Richard and Red hurrying away from where they had been standing beside the funeral pyre.

  Before Red could answer, Richard felt the ground beneath the cobblestones beginning to tremble. The delicate lacework of ash from the funeral pyre collapsed inward, sending sparks and smoke spiraling up into the damp air.

  One of the stone blocks at the base of the guard tower suddenly exploded, sending shards of rock and debris out across the square. Pieces of rock tumbled and bounced across the cobblestones, narrowly missing Richard’s group as dust boiled up. Richard heard the distinctive sound of granite cracking, and another block at the base of the tower exploded. Fragments of rock whistled past them. A cloud of granite flakes and chunks filled the air, pelting them with small pieces.

  “Get out!” Commander Fister yelled up at the two men in the tower. “Hurry! Get out now!”

  Richard looked up just in time to see the tower begin to sway as the two men disappeared to race down the interior spiral stairs. With two of the blocks at the base shattered, the tower groaned as its great weight slowly began to keel over.

  The two men dashed out of the narrow doorway as fractures crackled up from the corners of the opening. The men raced for their lives across the square.

  Another explosion blew apart a third foundation block beside the first two and with a loud grating of rupturing stone the falling tower suddenly gathered speed and came crashing down. With a thunderous roar it toppled across the square right over the top of Cara’s funeral pyre. Many of the stone blocks the tower had been constructed from broke apart on impact. Pieces large and small tumbled and rolled away, but most of it disintegrated into a heap of rubble.

  It had happened so quickly. One moment it was standing, the next the blocks exploded and the tower lay scattered across the square. Clouds of dust rolled across the ground and up through the damp late-day air.

  Had they not moved in time, they would all have been killed. As it was, some of the soldiers had been cut by sharp fragments of flying rock. One man was on his knees, holding his hands over a bloody wound on his head. Had Richard not moved, he would have been directly under the falling tower and now buried under the debris.

  When he turned to her, the witch woman was looking into his eyes. “The flow of time.”

  He knew enough about witch women and the flow of time they dealt in to understand what she meant. It had been a form of prophecy.

  “It would be helpful,” he said, “if the next time you could look a little farther ahead in that flo
w.”

  “It was an eddy that had only just swirled into existence. Events around you tend to be unpredictable and chaotic in that way.”

  Commander Fister planted his fists on his hips. He looked perplexed as he peered at the rubble. “Lord Rahl, how did you know the tower was going to fall?”

  Richard frowned at the question. “Red told me.”

  The commander cocked his head. “Red?”

  “The witch woman,” Richard said.

  The commander glanced around. “Witch woman? What are you talking about?”

  “The woman with the red hair.”

  The commander’s frown drew tighter as he took another look around. “There was a witch woman here yesterday, but I’ve seen no woman with red hair.”

  Richard looked for himself. The witch woman was gone. She had been quiet during the ceremony and as they watched the pyre burn. In fact, she hadn’t spoken all afternoon until she had told Richard to move because the tower was going to fall on him.

  Richard frowned over at Kahlan. “She’s gone.”

  She gave him a look as if to say that she had expected as much. “She told me that witch women have to stay out of events, lest they create havoc in those events. She’s leaving what must be done now to us.”

  “What I want to know is who created that eddy,” Nicci said in a way that betrayed her sense of urgency and ignoring the commander’s confusion over the unseen witch woman.

  Richard was already moving. He knew who had interrupted to create that disturbance in the flow at the last instant. He looked back over his shoulder when he heard boot strikes and saw the whole force of men following.

  “Wait here. All of you, wait here.”

  The soldiers reluctantly slowed to a halt, remaining near the cobblestone square piled with the rubble of the tower. Nicci, Kahlan, and the three Mord-Sith ignored his instructions and followed him without pause. At the moment he needed to catch the person responsible and didn’t want to stop to argue with them, but he knew he couldn’t let them go all the way.