Stone of Tears tsot-2

by Terry Goodkind

  He laughed quietly. “Chandalen is hard to kill.”

  She worked her tongue, trying to wet her dry mouth. She was awake, really awake, for the first time in as long as she could remember. It seemed she had forgotten what it was like to be awake, how vibrant it felt. Still, she did not move, afraid the blackness would return.

  “But, Prindin shot you with a ten-step arrow. I saw it.”

  He turned a bit, looking away in chagrin. She could see that his black hair was matted with dried blood. He flipped his hand, as if uneasy that he had to explain.

  “Remember I told you that our ancestors took quassin doe before they went into battle, so that if they were shot with a ten-step arrow, the poison would not kill them?” She nodded. He tenderly tested his wounded scalp. “Well, in honor of my ancestors, my warrior ancestors, I ate some of the quassin doe leaves before I went to fight. The quassin doe you gave to me back at that city.” His eyebrows lifted, as if further justification was needed. “It was to honor my ancestors.”

  Kahlan smiled warmly to him as she put a hand to his arm. “You have done your ancestors proud.”

  He helped her sit up. In the dim light, she saw that Prindin lay next to her, on his back.

  The bone knife, the bone knife made from Chandalen’s grandfather’s bones, the one she had worn at her arm, jutted from Prindin’s chest. The black feathers fanned out around the hilt end, draped like a shroud over the fatal wound. Somehow, she had managed to put that knife between them when Prindin had leaped on her. Somehow.

  She remembered her numb, helpless plight. She remembered the tingling feeling of the poison, and that she couldn’t move. She remembered her terror. She remembered Prindin’s leap onto her.

  But she didn’t remember pulling the knife.

  Her voice trembled. “I’m so sorry, Chandalen.” Her fingers covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry that I killed your friend.”

  Chandalen glared at the body. “He was not my friend. My friends do not try to kill me.” He put a comforting hand to her shoulder. “He was sent by the great, dark spirit of the dead. His heart was taken by evil.”

  Kahlan clutched his sleeve. “Chandalen, that great, dark spirit of the dead is trying to escape from behind the veil. He wants to pull us all behind the veil, into the world of the dead.”

  His brown eyes studied hers. “I believe you. We must get you to Aydindril, so you may help stop him.”

  She sagged with relief. “Thank you, Chandalen. Thank you for understanding, and for saving me with the quassin doe.” Kahlan clutched his arm. “The men! Prindin set a trap for them! What time is it?”

  He made a comforting, hushing sound. “When Captain Ryan came to Tossidin and me before the attack, I asked where you were. I knew you would want to be with them. He told me that you were sick. That you could not wake. It sounded to me like bandu.

  “Captain Ryan said you would not eat, and would have only tea Prindin made for you. I knew then, what was happening. I knew you had been poisoned, and the only thing you had was tea.

  “Tossidin and I were greatly worried for you. We checked to see if the enemy had changed position. We saw that they were waiting for the attack where we had planned it at first. I made the men change the attack, and come from a different place than expected. As soon as I gave the new orders, we rushed back here.

  “I knew Prindin had betrayed us, but Tossidin thought there must be some other explanation. He trusted his brother and did not want to think evil of him. He paid for his trust, his mistake, with his life.”

  Kahlan looked away in the uneasy quiet. She frowned back at him. “What of the arrow? What of the wound on your head? We must see to your wounds.”

  Chandalen pulled the neck of his buckskin shirt to the side, revealing a bandage over his left shoulder. “The men returned in the night. They stitched my head. It is not as bad as it looks. They also took out the arrow.”

  He winced as he pulled the shirt back up on his shoulder. “I taught Prindin well. He used a bladed arrow. Bladed arrows do more harm coming out than going in. One of the men, the one who cuts and sews the wounded, cut out the arrow, and stitched me together. The arrow hit the bone, so it did not go in too far. My arm is stiff, and I will not be able to use it for a time.”

  Kahlan felt her leg. There was a bandage under her pants. “Did he stitch my leg, too?”

  “No. It did not need sewing, just to be wrapped; I did that. Prindin used a round point on you. That is not like I taught him. I don’t know why he would do that.”

  Kahlan could feel the presence of the body next to her. “He wanted to be able to get it out of me, after he shot me with poison,” she said quietly. “He wanted it out of his way. He was going to rape me before he gave me to the enemy.”

  Chandalen watched the body, not wanting to look at her, and said he was glad that had not happened.

  She touched his left hand. “And I’m glad it was your shoulder, and not your throat.”

  He frowned. “I taught Prindin how to shoot. He would never miss my throat from that distance. Why did he not shoot my throat?”

  She shrugged, feigning ignorance. He grunted suspiciously.

  “Chandalen, why is his body still in here? Why didn’t you drag him out?”

  He moved his wounded arm a bit with his other, making it more comfortable. “Because Grandfather’s spirit knife is still in him.” He regarded her with a serious expression. “You have used the aid of Grandfather’s bones, his spirit, to protect yourself, to take another life. Grandfather’s spirit is bonded to you now. No other may touch his bone knife, now. It is yours, and only you may touch it. You must remove it.”

  Kahlan momentarily contemplated whether or not she could just leave the knife where it was, and bury it with the body. She thought maybe the bone knife should be put to rest, too. But she discarded the thought. To the Mud People this was powerful spirit magic. She would insult Chandalen if she rejected the knife.

  She thought, too, that maybe she would be insulting the spirit of Chandalen’s grandfather if she didn’t take back the knife. She wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t the spirit in the bone knife that had killed Prindin to save her. She didn’t know how the knife had gotten into her hand.

  Kahlan reached out and wrapped her fingers around the round end protruding from Prindin’s chest. It made a sucking sound as she pulled it from the body. She wiped it clean on the balsam boughs covering the floor.

  Kahlan brought the round end to her lips and kissed it lightly. “Thank you, spirit grandfather, for saving my life.” Somehow, it seemed the right thing to do.

  Chandalen smiled as she slid the bone knife into the band on her arm. “You are a good Mud Person. You knew what to do without me telling you. Grandfather’s spirit will watch over you always.”

  “Chandalen, we must get to Aydindril. The veil to the underworld is torn. We’ve done what we must to help these men. I must do my job, now.”

  “When we first found these men, I did not want to stay with them. I wanted to be away from their fight so that you would be safe.” He stared off at nothing. “Somehow, I forgot that thought, and all I wanted to do was fight and kill the enemy.”

  “I know,” she whispered, “that happened to me, too. I forgot all about what I was supposed to be doing. It’s almost as if we, too, listened to the great, dark spirit. The veil is torn. Maybe that’s why we were distracted.”

  “You think that this veil is torn, and because of that we forgot what we were to do, and wanted only to kill?”

  “Chandalen, I don’t know the answers to these things. I must get to Aydindril. The wizard will know what to do. Richard needs help. We have taken enough time here. We must not waste any more. We must talk to the men, and then be on our way. Are they out there?” He nodded. “Then let’s get going.”

  She started to rise, but he put his good hand to her arm and stopped her. “They have been waiting outside your shelter all night. I would not let them come inside.”

 
He took his hand back as he seemed to search for the right words. “I feared greatly that you would die this night. I didn’t know if I had given you the quassin doe in time. Prindin had been giving you poison without our knowing it, for a long time. You almost went to the spirit world.

  “If you had died, I would never be able to return to my people again. But that is not why I am glad you live. I am glad because you are a good Mud Person. You are a protector to our people, the same as Chandalen. We each fight in our own way.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Lately, you have been fighting too much like Chandalen fights. You are good at it, but you should leave that to me, and fight in the way you are meant to fight.”

  Kahlan smiled. “You’re right. Thank you for sitting with me all night. It was good to have you near. I’m sorry you were hurt.”

  He shrugged. “Someday, when I find a woman for myself, I will have scars to show her, so she may see how brave Chandalen is.”

  Kahlan laughed. “I’m sure she will be impressed with your bravery when you were shot with an arrow.”

  Chandalen gave her a crooked look. “It does not prove I was brave because I was shot with an arrow. Anyone can be shot.” He lifted his chin. “I am brave because I did not cry out when the the arrow was cut from me.”

  Someday, Kahlan thought, some fortunate woman would have her hands full with this one. “I’m glad the good spirits watched over you, and you are with me.”

  He narrowed his eyes as he peered at her. “I do not know what happened, but I think Prindin missed my throat because you were watching over me, too.”

  She only grinned. When she looked to the body, her grin withered. She stroked the fur of her mantle. “Poor Tossidin. He loved his brother. I’ll miss him.”

  Chandalen glanced to the body. “I have known them since they were young boys. They both followed me around, begging me to teach them. Begging to be one of my men.” He hung his head in silence. Finally, he returned his attention to her. “The men are worried greatly about you. They are waiting.”

  Kahlan followed as he crawled out on his knees and one hand. She dragged the sword with her. Outside, in the light, there was a sudden rustle of sound as men rose to their feet.

  Captain Ryan rushed forward, but a big man, with one arm in a sling, thrust his good arm across the captain’s chest, stopping him cold. He held a monstrous war axe in his fist.

  “Orsk? You are alive, too?”

  His eyes were red from weeping. Kahlan remembered the way her father had wept when her mother, his mistress, was ill.

  “Mistress!” Tears sprang anew to his eyes. “You are well! What do you wish?”

  “Orsk, these men are all my friends. None of them will hurt me. You do not need to keep them away. I’m safe. It would please me if you just sat quietly for now.”

  Instantly, he flopped to the ground. Kahlan gave a questioning frown to Chandalen.

  Chandalen shrugged. “I saw him fight to protect you, and Prindin wanted to kill him, so I gave him quassin doe. The men dug the arrow from his back. I am not sure how badly he is hurt; he has no interest in his wound, only in you. I was only able to keep him out of the shelter by telling him you needed to be left alone or you might not recover, but he would not leave this spot as long as you were inside.”

  Kahlan sighed as she gazed at the grisly face staring silently up at her. She could hardly stand to look at the jagged white scar, and the one eye that was sewn shut. She returned her attention to an impatient Captain Ryan, and the hundreds of faces behind him.

  “How goes the war?”

  “The war! Dash the war! Are you all right? You had us scared to death!” He cast a hot glance at Chandalen, and then at Orsk sitting in the snow. “These two wouldn’t even let me have a peek at you, to see how you were.”

  “That’s their job,” Kahlan said. She gave them a warm smile. “Thank you all for your concern. Chandalen has saved me.”

  “Well, what happened? This place was a mess. The dozen men I left here were slaughtered. By a troga. Prindin and Tossidin are dead. And there were dead men of the Order. We feared they killed you.”

  Kahlan realized Chandalen had told them nothing. “One of the dead men, off in that direction, is General Riggs, of the Imperial Order. Orsk here,” she pointed down to the one-eyed man, “killed most of the men of the Order. They came here to get me. Prindin killed our guards, and his brother, and he tried to kill me.” Whispers and gasps spread among the men.

  Captain Ryan’s eyes looked like they would pop from his head. “Prindin! Not Prindin. Dear spirits, why?”

  She waited until silence settled over the men. She spoke in a quiet tone. “Prindin was a baneling.”

  Stunned silence was all she heard for a moment, and then the worried whispers of “baneling” spread back through the ranks.

  “You men are doing a fine job. But now you must fight on without me. I must get to Aydindril.” Disappointed murmurs filled the air. “I would not leave you if I did not know you were up to the task. You have all proven your worth and your heart in battle. You are men the equal of any.”

  The men stood a little taller. They listened intently to her, as if hearing their general.

  “I am proud of each and every one of you. You are heroes of the Midlands. This army of the Imperial Order, threat though it is, is representative of a larger threat to the Midlands, to the world of the living. That the Keeper would send a baneling to stop me is proof of that.

  “I believe the Imperial Order is aligned with the Keeper. I must now turn my attention to this threat. I know you will fight on, as you have sworn, and show the enemy no quarter. I know the days of the Order are numbered.”

  Kahlan realized that her neck didn’t hurt. She touched her fingers to the bite. It was gone. Suddenly she felt that perhaps she had escaped the Keeper’s grasp in more ways than one.

  With a serious demeanor, she regarded the young faces that intently watched her. “Though you will fight on without quarter, you must not let yourselves become what you are fighting. The enemy fights to kill, and to enslave. You fight for life, and freedom. Keep that always uppermost in your hearts.

  “Do not let yourselves become what you hate. I know how easy it is to do. It almost happened to me.”

  Kahlan put a fist into the air. “I promise to never forget a one of you. Promise me that when this is finished, both the threat from the Imperial Order, and the threat from the Keeper, that you will one day all come to Aydindril, so the Midlands may honor your sacrifice.”

  The men all lifted a fist in pledge. A cheer went up.

  “Captain Ryan, please tell the men at the other camps my words. I wish I could speak to them all myself, but I must leave at once.”

  He assured her it would be done. Kahlan lifted the sword in both hands, holding it out.

  “King Wyborn wielded this sword in battle to protect his land. The Mother Confessor has wielded it in defense of the Midlands. I now place it in capable hands.”

  Captain Ryan’s fingers carefully lifted the sword from hers. He held it as if holding the crown of Galea itself. A beaming grin lit his face.

  “I will carry it with pride, Mother Confessor. Thank you for everything you have taught us. When you first found us, we were boys. Thank you for making us into men. You have taught us not only to fight better but, more importantly, what it means to be soldiers, and to be protectors of the Midlands.”

  He took the hilt in his fist and held the sword skyward as he turned to his men.

  “Three cheers for the Mother Confessor!”

  As she listened to the three wild cheers, Kahlan realized that in all her life she had never heard anyone cheer the Mother Confessor before. She had to strain to keep her surprise from showing. She lifted a kiss on her fingers and thanked them all.

  “Captain Ryan, I wish to take Nick, and I will need two other horses, also.”

  Chandalen lurched forward. “Now, why do you need horses!”

  She lifted an eyebrow to him. “Chandale
n, I have an arrow wound in my leg. I can hardly stand, much less walk. I need to ride, if I’m to get to Aydindril. I hope you do not think me weak because of it.”

  His brow knotted up. “Well, no. Of course you cannot be expected to walk.” His eyes turned angry again. “But why do you want two other horses?”

  “If I ride, you must, too.”

  “Chandalen does not need to ride! I am strong!”

  She leaned close and spoke in his tongue. “Chandalen, I know the Mud People do not ride horses. I would not expect you would know how. I will teach you. You will do fine. When you return to your people, you will have a new skill that none of them have. They will be impressed. The women will see that you are brave.”

  He grunted suspiciously as he scowled. “Then why do we need the third horse?”

  “We’re taking Orsk.”

  “What!”

  Kahlan shrugged. “You can’t draw a bow until your arm recovers. How will you protect me? Orsk can wield an axe with his one good arm, and you can throw a spear with yours.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I am not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

  “No,” she said with a small smile. “Now, we better get our things and be on our way.”

  Kahlan surveyed the men one last time. Her men. She gave them a salute of her fist to her heart. They all silently returned the salute. She had lost much with these men. She had gained much. “Take care. Each and every one of you.”

  Chapter 48

  “So, when are we going to meet your people, the ones who will guide Sister Verna and me to the palace?”

  Du Chaillu glanced back over her shoulder, pulling her mass of black hair out of the way to peer at him. She was leading her horse. Richard had grown tired of her complaints, and when she finally refused to ride any longer, he decided not to make an issue of it and let her walk. Richard had decided to walk for a while himself. Sister Verna rode behind them, watching Du Chaillu like an owl from atop her horse.

  “Soon.” Her cool, distant expression disturbed him. “Very soon.”

  Her attitude had slowly changed since they had left the Majendie land, as they went deeper into hers. She was no longer chatty and open, but had grown haughty and distant. Sister Verna rarely took her eyes from Du Chaillu, and Du Chaillu, in turn, didn’t miss a move the Sister made. They were like two cats with their fur standing on end, silent and still, but ready to spring. It wouldn’t have surprised him if soon he saw their teeth bared.