Stone of Tears tsot-2

by Terry Goodkind

  He looked into her pale, pale blue eyes, at the dark flecks spread through them. “So tell me.”

  “The reason you can’t help get the collar off is because you don’t have the training to use your gift. You don’t know how to direct the power. This will overcome that deficiency. I hope.”

  “You’re trying to work up to warning me about something.”

  She gave a single nod. “You don’t know how to control the flow, so you be will at the mercy of the aid. But the aid doesn’t understand pain. It simply does what it must. What I need.”

  “So you’re telling me it might hurt. I’m prepared to endure pain. Let’s get started.”

  “Not ‘might.’ ” She held up a cautionary finger. “Richard, this is dangerous. It will hurt you. It will feel like your mind is being torn apart. I know you want to do this, but I don’t want to deceive you. This will make you think you are dying.”

  He felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck.

  “It must be done.”

  “I will be directing my Han to try to break the hold of the collar. The aid will be pulling power from you, to do as I need to overcome the Rada’Han. It will hurt you.”

  “Liliana, I can take whatever is necessary. It must be done.”

  “You listen to me, Richard. I know you want to do this, but you listen. I will be pulling the gift from you, to help break the collar. Your mind will feel like I’m trying to pull the very life from you. Your inner mind may interpret that as me trying to suck the gift, the very life, from you.

  “You will have to endure the feeling of having your life ripped from you. You will have to endure it until the collar breaks. If you try to stop it when my power is in you, trying to do as I must . . .”

  “So what you are saying is that if it’s too much, and I want to stop, I can’t. If I try to stop the pull on my magic, it will kill me.”

  “Yes. You must not resist. If you do, you will die.” Her expression was as serious as he had ever seen it. “You must trust me, and not try to stop what is happening to you, or you will die, and then Kahlan will die. Are you sure you can do that?”

  “Liliana, I would do anything, endure anything, to save Kahlan. I trust you. I will put my life in your hands.”

  She at last nodded and placed the statue in his lap. She gazed into his eyes a long moment, and then kissed her finger. She touched the kissed finger to his cheek.

  “Into the void, then, together. Thank you for your trust, Richard. You will never know what this means to me.”

  “Nor to me, Liliana. What do you want me to do?”

  “The same as we have always done before. You just try to touch your Han, as always, and I will do the rest.”

  She wiggled forward until their knees were pressed together. They held hands, letting them rest over their knees. Each drew a deep breath, and closed their eyes.

  At first, it was the same as it always was, just deep relaxation as he concentrated on the image of the Sword of Truth. The pain, at first, was simply an uncomfortable tingling. It spiraled deeper, settling at the base of his spine, feeling like a pulled muscle. The pain worked its way up his back.

  Abruptly, it erupted everywhere at once, something like the pain of the Agiel; a hot ache searing through the marrow of his bones. Denna had taught him to endure pain. He said a silent thank you to Denna, for what she had done. Maybe it would be what he needed to endure this, to save Kahlan.

  The twisting torture took his breath. His back stiffened. Sweat instantly drenched his face. His lungs burned for air. With the greatest of effort, he drew a breath.

  Shattering pain exploded through his mind, plunging him into a timeless place of ripping, unending agony. He struggled to hold the sword in his mind. Tears ran down his face. He had to do this.

  It felt as if every nerve in his body were exposed and being held to a flame. He thought his eyes might burst. He thought his heart might burst. He flinched with each agonizing tug of pain. It was torture beyond endurance.

  And then it seemed as if what he had felt had not yet been the beginning of it. He was unable to scream, to breathe, to move. It seemed his very soul was being ripped from him.

  As Liliana had warned him, it seemed as if his very life was being pulled from him. He felt a wash of panic that this was killing him. He felt dark death soaking into the void left by what was being ripped from him. He dimly worried that this wasn’t right. Terror burgeoned deep within him, and then that too was pulled into the swirling torrent erupting outward.

  He wanted nothing more than to scream, as if it would somehow ameliorate the agony. But he could not. His muscles seemed to be losing their life along with the rest of him. He could not breathe, or even hold his head up.

  Please, Liliana, please hurry. Please.

  He struggled not to resist what she was doing. He prayed that he would not fight her. He had to get to Kahlan. She needed him.

  His eyes were open, he realized, when he recognized the statue in his lap. His head was hanging. The crystal was beginning to glow a dull orange. A dim part of him thought that that must mean it was working, doing its job. His head felt as if it were coming apart. He expected to see blood dripping down, but he saw only the orange glow increasing.

  Please, Liliana, hurry.

  Blackness was enveloping him. Even the insufferable pain was beginning to seem distant. He felt life slipping from his grasp. He felt an emptiness coming upon him that was more ghastly that anything he thought possible.

  In the fading recesses of his mind, he felt a presence.

  Mriswith.

  He felt them near. His level of alarm rose. They were around him, closing in.

  And then he heard, as if from a great distance, Liliana’s voice. “Wait, my pets. You may have what is left, when I am finished with him. Wait.”

  He could dimly see the mriswith in his mind, as he always had when they came to him. When Liliana spoke, they moved back.

  Why would she say that? Why would the mriswith move back at her command? What did she mean? Maybe the pain had driven him insane, and it was only a mad illusion.

  He felt a presence at his back. Not a mriswith. Worse. More gruesome by ten. He felt its fetid breath on his neck.

  Liliana’s voice came in a dangerous hiss. “I said wait.” The presence receded a bit, but not as far as the mriswith.

  What did she mean, they could have what was left? He was dying, that was what she meant. He could feel it. He was dying.

  No. Liliana said he would think that. It was simply happening as she had said, that was all. He had to be strong for Kahlan. But he had so little left to give. He was dying. He knew he was. The statue in his lap was glowing brighter.

  The hot breath returned to his neck. He heard a low growl from the loathsome thing. He vehemently wanted it away from him.

  Liliana’s menacing voice came again. “Wait. I will be finished in a moment, and then you may have his body. Wait.”

  In that instant, something deep within him told him that if he was ever going to save himself, this was the last chance. It had to be now. The decision to act was sudden desperation.

  From deep within, from the core of his mind, from the core of his being, from the core of his soul, he wrenched his will to action, and by force of will, with frantic, colossal effort, he yanked his power, his life—himself—back.

  A thundering boom sounded, and an impact sundered the air, throwing the two of them apart. Richard landed on his back at one edge of the clearing, Liliana at the other. The Sword of Truth was in the center. The mriswith and the other creature melted back into the darkness among the trees.

  Richard gasped for air. He sat up and shook his head. The statue lay on the ground in the center, near his sword. The orange glow was gone.

  Liliana floated upward without effort. It looked as if an invisible hand had lifted her gently to her feet. The sight raised hackles on the back of his neck.

  She smiled wickedly. Richard hadn’t thought Liliana to be capab
le of such a vile grin. It made his toes curl in his boots.

  “Oh, Richard, I was so close. I’ve never experienced anything like it. You have no idea of the glory of what you have. But I will have it yet.”

  Richard glanced to the sides, trying to decide which way to run. He felt like a fool, and at the same time was overcome by a sense of profound loss. “Liliana, I trusted you. I thought you cared for me.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Did you?” The slow smile returned. “Maybe I did. Maybe that’s why I was doing it the easy way. Now we do it the hard way.”

  Richard blinked. “What do you mean, the hard way?”

  “The quillion would have been the easy way. I have taken on the gift from many a male. But you resisted where they could not. Now I must skin you alive to have your gift. First, I will have to disable you. You will lie helpless, as I do it.”

  She held out a hand. A sword floated out from behind the big oak, out of the darkness, and into her hand.

  With a shriek, she swept across the clearing toward him. Her sword flashed in the moonlight.

  Without thinking, Richard lifted his hand, calling his sword and its magic. The response was instant. The anger inundated him. He felt the hilt slam into his palm as Liliana swung her sword. The sword, the magic, the spirits, were with him. He brought the blade up, blocking her strike.

  Dimly, Richard wondered why his sword didn’t shatter hers. But then he was moving. The dance with death had begun.

  He countered her strikes, and she his. He evaded attacks that should have had him, and she thwarted attacks that should have had her. She spun like the wind, slipping away at the last instant. He felt as if he were fighting a shadow. No human could move the way she did. He could not move the way she did.

  Behind, he felt the sudden, loathsome presence. He checked the thrust of her blade, and spun, bringing the sword around with lightning speed. For an instant, he saw a snarl of fangs, and a malicious glare, and then the sword made solid contact, and what was there was rendered unrecognizable as it disintegrated.

  He felt her blade coming, and dove over the falling hulk. Rolling to his feet, he returned the attack. The night air rang over and over with the sound of steel on steel.

  Richard realized that her blade must somehow be like his. She had a weapon the match of the Sword of Truth. Besides that, she had command of magic he could only imagine. He didn’t have to imagine long.

  As the battle wound its way across the clearing, both straining with all the fury they could bring forth, she leapt back, and sent a bolt of fire racing toward him. He dodged at the last instant, and it flew past, hitting a tree. The trunk exploded in a shower of splinters. The top of the tree crashed down around him, some of the branches knocking him from his feet.

  Liliana slashed through branches as thick as his arms to get at him. They splintered the way the trunk had. Richard scrambled out from under and fought her back into the thick woods.

  As they clashed over and over again while descending a steep hill, he began to analyze her tactics. She fought ferociously, but without grace—like a soldier in combat among the lines. He didn’t know how he knew that, except it had to come from the spirits of his sword’s magic.

  The way she attacked, slashing and swinging, left her open for a thrusting counterattack. Richard pressed that attack at her, but when he finally managed to thrust at her middle, the strike that should have found its mark slid to the side. She was protected, somehow. She had the use of magic he didn’t understand.

  Richard was exhausted, and was fighting on the pure rage and fury of the magic. She didn’t even seem winded. “You can’t win, Richard. I will have you.”

  “Why! You can’t win in the end!”

  “I will have my reward.”

  He ducked behind a tree, just missing a swing that sent wood chips flying. “If you help the Keeper escape, he will swallow all life!”

  “You think so? You think wrong. He will reward those who serve him. He will grant me things the Creator never could.”

  He stabbed at her, but the sword slid to the side. “He’s lying to you!”

  Her blade whistled past his face. Her calm, deliberate attacks were relentless. “We have a bargain. My oath seals it.”

  “And you believe he will keep his end?”

  “Join with us, Richard, and I will show you the glory that awaits those who serve him. You can live forever.”

  Richard leapt to the top of a rock. “Never!”

  She looked up with a cold detachment. “I thought this would be pleasurable, but I find I am growing bored.”

  Liliana swept a hand out. Twisting, snaking lightning came from the hand, but it was not like any lightning he had ever seen before.

  It was black lightning.

  Instead of a bolt of light and heat, it was an undulating void, as dark as the night stone, as dark as the boxes of Orden, as dark as eternal death. The dim, moonlit scene seemed a sunny day in comparison.

  Richard knew: he was seeing Subtractive Magic.

  Liliana swept the black lightning across the rock beneath his feet. It effortlessly sliced a smooth-edged void through the rock. The remaining part he stood atop collapsed onto the half below. Trees behind for a good distance, severed in the same way, by the same black bolt, crashed to the ground in a roar of noise.

  Richard lost his footing and toppled backward onto the steep slope, tumbling down the hill. He threw his arms out to stop himself when he hit the flat at the bottom, and immediately rolled over onto his back. He looked up and gasped.

  Liliana was standing right over him, her sword held high in both hands. By where she was looking, he knew she intended to cut off his legs. He froze at seeing her sword commence its descent.

  What he was doing was not working. He had to do something else, or he was going to die.

  Her blade was a blur in the moonlight. He released himself, gave sanction to his inner self, his gift. He would surrender to whatever was there, or he would die. It was his only chance. He found the calm center within, and did its bidding.

  He saw the Sword of Truth thrusting upward. His knuckles were white with effort. The sword was a white glow in the gloomy light.

  With all his force, he drove the hissing white blade into Liliana, under her ribs. When the tip severed her spine, coming out her back between her shoulder blades, she went limp. Only his sword and strength held her upright.

  Her mouth dropped open in a gasp. Her sword fell, sticking in the ground to the side. Her wide, pale eyes stared down at him.

  “I forgive you, Liliana,” Richard whispered.

  Her arms twitched in an uncoordinated manner. Terror rilled her eyes. She tried to speak, but only blood frothed forth.

  There was an earsplitting crack, like a lightning strike, but instead of a flash of light, a ripple of total darkness swept through the forest. Its touch made his heart skip a beat. When it lifted, the moonlight seemed dazzling, and Liliana was dead.

  Richard knew—the Keeper had taken her.

  Before, he had called the sword’s white magic knowing full well what it meant. This time, he had done as Nathan had told him, and let his instinct, his gift, call it forth. It had been a surprise to him, both the instant calling of the white magic, and the fact that he had not consciously done it.

  Something within had known that that was what was needed to counter the Keeper’s hate that rilled Liliana. Richard was left stunned by what had happened. He stared down at Liliana as he withdrew his sword. He had confided in her. He had trusted her.

  He realized that he was still where he had started—with the collar around his neck, and no ideas of how to get it off. Collar or no collar, he had to get through the barrier that kept him here. He decided that he would go get his things from the palace, and then he would find a way through the invisible wall.

  As he wiped the sword clean on her clothes, he recalled how it had been in the center of the clearing, a good distance from him. He had somehow called it to him, along
with the magic. The sword had flown through the air, and come into his hand.

  He set the sword on the ground, and experimentally called its magic. The anger, the fury, filled him, as always. He held his hand out and willed the blade to come to him. It lay rock-solid on the ground. Try as he might, it would not so much as twitch.

  Frustrated, he returned it to its scabbard. He pulled Liliana’s sword from the ground and broke the blade over his knee. When he threw it aside, he noticed something white nearby.

  White bones gleaming in the moonlight were mostly all that remained of the desiccated corpse. Only the top half was there. He assumed animals must have gotten the rest, but then he found the pelvis and legs, some distance away. Tattered remains of a dress that matched the top half still surrounded the leg bones.

  Richard knelt, inspecting the upper body. Animals had not touched it. There was not a single tooth mark on any bone. It remained now as it had fallen.

  With a frown, he saw that the bones of the lower spine were shattered. He had never seen bones splintered in such a way. It was as if this woman had been blown in half, while alive.

  He knelt silently, staring, wondering. Someone had killed this woman. Somehow, he knew: magic had killed this woman.

  “Who did this to you?” he whispered down at the corpse.

  Slowly, a skeletal arm rose toward him in the moonlight. The fingers uncurled. A thin chain dropped down, dangling from the bones of a finger.

  Richard, his hair feeling as if it were trying to stand on end, carefully took the chain from the fingers. There was a single object on the chain. He held it up in the moonlight and saw it was a lumpy piece of gold, formed into the letter J.

  “Jedidiah,” Richard whispered, not knowing what made him do so.

  Chapter 66

  As Richard approached, he noticed a commotion on the stone bridge. A crowd lined one edge, everyone looking down to the river. At the center, he eased his way through toward the low, walled railing. As he did, he saw Pasha at the crown, too, leaning out over the stone, looking down.

  “What’s going on?” he asked as he came up behind her.