The First Confessor

by Terry Goodkind

  Lord Rahl frowned. “Magda?”

  She could see the puzzled concern on his face, but she couldn’t speak to tell him what was happening. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t do that, either. Mostly, she wanted to somehow make the unexpected, savage pain stop.

  She couldn’t endure it for another moment. As much as she wanted to live, she welcomed death if only it would bring her release.

  In that helpless, desolate instant, she knew.

  The initial violence of the pain unexpectedly eased up just a bit. She didn’t know if it was a depraved game, or if the crushing hurt was going to ram back in at her again with even more force. In that brief break, Magda gasped a breath.

  Before she could cry out, the pain slammed into her again, but with immensely more force than the first time. She hadn’t thought it possible for it to hurt more, but it did. The startling power of it left her senseless.

  Staggered, she began to lose her awareness of where she was. Her skull felt as if it were being slowly crushed.

  A powerful blow came out of nowhere like a bolt of lightning, striking her in the middle, doubling her over. Her muscles strained against a force squeezing her chest. She heard snapping and felt her ribs break, sending yet another kind of pain ripping through her.

  In insufferable torment, her eyes wide, she saw Lord Rahl rushing toward her, yet his movements seemed impossibly slow. He almost looked to be a statue, unable to make any headway. At the slow, dreamlike rate at which he appeared to be moving, she didn’t think he would reach her before she was dead.

  She felt something warm and wet running from her ears and down along her jaw. She saw bright blood splattering on the stone floor under her.

  Magda dropped heavily to her knees.

  Her vision narrowed to a dark tunnel. Everything seemed far away. She thought she heard voices but she couldn’t make them out over the piercing, painful, high-pitched noise she was hearing.

  Just at the dark edge of her restricted vision, she saw Lord Rahl’s two big guards draw their swords as they, too, started toward her. She knew that they now saw her as a threat.

  The blood running from her ears and dripping from her chin merged into a wet, red pool on the floor beneath her. She could feel the wet warmth soaking her knees and dress.

  Through the stunning torment, through the paralyzing pain spiking down through her head and ripping up through her abdomen, Magda, like the guards, realized what was happening. As disoriented as she was, she was all too aware of the alien presence roaring out from the dark corners of her mind.

  If the thing within didn’t kill her, the guards surely would. Magda recognized that she had only precious moments to live.

  With that awareness, she realized how desperately she didn’t want to die. Despite how much she wanted the pain to stop, she didn’t want to die. She had never felt so strongly about wanting to live. But she could feel herself slipping ever closer to the dark rim of the underworld.

  Magda remembered then her husband’s last words on the note in her pocket.

  Be strong now, guard your mind, and live the life that only you can live.

  Lord Rahl was right there, right before her, his boots in her blood. He was leaning down, his hands on her shoulders as he yelled something.

  She couldn’t hear him. She could hear only the ripping howl of pain in her ears.

  Magda clutched Lord Rahl’s pant legs in her fists as the pain darkened her vision, threatening to blind her. She knew that in brief moments she would not only lose her vision, she would lose consciousness. She knew that she had only those brief seconds before everything was lost to her.

  She could hear Alric Rahl above her yelling urgently, but she couldn’t make out the distant words. She could feel his powerful fingers grasping her shoulders as he leaned over her.

  She knew that this was her only chance.

  But she didn’t know if she could summon the strength.

  “Master Rahl . . .” she managed in a hoarse voice. Blood dripped from her lips. She could taste it in her mouth.

  Terror tightened her throat. Her heartbeats came weaker and weaker. She knew that she was about to die. She could feel the glimmer of life itself slipping away. It seemed too much effort to hold on to it.

  It was even too much effort to draw another breath.

  Some part of her, though, desperately didn’t want to surrender to the lure of release.

  Magda summoned all her remaining strength and gasped in a last breath.

  With her lungs filled by that last gasp at life, she forced herself on in a desperate rush, giving herself over to the words, giving herself over to their meaning.

  “Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled.” She put her heart and soul into the words. “We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.”

  Darkness passed through her, shadowing her soul. She thought that it must be too late.

  But then the pain abruptly lost its hold on her.

  Magda, panting in relief as the full force of crushing torment released her, crumpled to the ground, weeping in lingering agony and sweet gratitude for Baraccus’s words of guard your mind.

  They had just saved her life.

  Baraccus had just saved her life.

  Lord Rahl had just saved her life.

  Chapter 13

  Free of the alien presence, but still in agony, Magda lay in a warm, velvety pool of her own blood. The pain in her head, still radiating into her ears and down through her jaw, was horrific. As much as she hurt, though, she was profoundly thankful that it was at least not the same kind of agony as the crushing pain the dream walker had been inflicting from within.

  As much as she didn’t want to suffer the pain of being touched, she didn’t have the power to offer much resistance as Lord Rahl and his two bodyguards gently rolled her over. She cried out at the torture of being moved. She could feel broken ribs grate together with each shallow breath.

  “Easy, now,” Lord Rahl said in a surprisingly gentle voice as big hands caught her weakly flailing arms. “It’s going to be all right. You have to be still, though. Don’t try to get up.”

  In a daze, Magda was only dimly aware of where she was and what was happening. It seemed like it all was happening to someone else and she was only watching it. Her whole body throbbed in terrible pain. But even that, too, in an odd way seemed strangely distant.

  “At least that bastard is gone from her now,” one of the big guards said.

  Lord Rahl grunted his agreement before looking down at her. “It’s going to be all right, Magda. I’m going to help you.”

  Magda nodded. She didn’t really know why. She had to swallow back the blood in her mouth.

  Lord Rahl leaned in closer over her. He had the strangest look in his eyes. Magda realized, then, that it was fear.

  At seeing that look, at comprehending that it was fear for her, she started to panic. With a firm grip on her shoulders, he forced her back down.

  “Listen to me, Magda. You need to be still. Don’t fight it. Let me do that.”

  She tried to ask what he meant, but the words came out in a jumble that even she couldn’t understand.

  He smiled just a bit. “No need to talk anymore. You got the right words out when you needed them.” He patted her shoulder. “You’re safe from the dream walker, now.”

  Magda sagged in relief. At least that monster was gone from her mind. She had felt that evil presence for only a brief time, but it was something she knew she would never be able to forget. Tears of gratitude at being free of the dream walker ran across her cheeks. Even if she had to endure the lingering effects of his attack, even if she was to die, she was at least free of his vile presence.

  “I need to get into your mind, Magda—”

  She had just escaped that very thing. She didn’t want anyone in her mind ever again. She didn’t want to have anyone controlling her in that wa
y. In a panic at the thought of it, she thrashed, trying to escape his grip.

  “Listen to me,” he said as he held both of her wrists firmly in one of his big hands. “It will only be to heal the damage. You’re still losing a lot of blood. I have to hurry. You have to let me help you. Just lie still and don’t fight me, all right? Can you do that? Can you trust me? It will be easier if you do.”

  This was a chance at life. This was a chance to be pulled back from that terrifying dark void. She had fought for her life. She couldn’t let herself slip beyond the veil. At last, she let the tension go from her muscles and nodded.

  “Thank you, Master Rahl,” she managed with the greatest of effort.

  He offered a brief smile before putting his hands to either side of her head. His hands muffled the distant sounds of the world, muffled what she only then realized was the sounds of her own sobs.

  She looked up at him, and his blue eyes reminded her of looking up into a blue sky. As she stared, unable to blink, she was drawn into that calming color. His eyes became the sky. She felt herself falling into that azure forever that became sapphire that became cobalt that became midnight blue that became simply midnight.

  She felt the weight of his power press in on her mind as the cold flood of his magic cascaded down through her whole being.

  She had been healed by Baraccus before, but that had been for relatively minor things—a deep cut, a twisted ankle, a crippling headache—so she recognized the unique feel of Additive Magic. What in those instances had been a trickle was now a massive icy torrent overwhelming her with its power.

  Even more, though, she felt the red-hot touch of what she knew had to be Subtractive Magic. She imagined that he was removing residual traces of the damage done by the dream walker’s presence.

  She gasped at the sudden, sharp, searing heat deep inside her ears. She recoiled at the smell of burning flesh, realizing that he must be cauterizing the wounds to stop the bleeding.

  Even though she felt lost in a strange, empty place, she knew that she was not alone. He was there with her, working, trying to help her. It was something like when the dream walker had made himself known in her mind, but at the same time it was the opposite side of that alien presence. The dream walker, she knew, she could feel, had been malicious and had fully intended harm.

  This, by contrast, was a benevolent presence. Despite the pain pulling her ever downward inside herself, she could feel that his purpose was only to help her, only to eventually be able to lift her pain away.

  She could feel every thread of Additive Magic stitching through her torn muscles and broken ribs. It didn’t exactly hurt, but the odd sensation made her queasy. She wanted to squirm away, yet she knew that this was her only chance and so she surrendered to it. The warm power seeping deep into her ears was equally uncomfortable.

  At the same time, she was aware of him trying to force her to let him lift the agony away. Magda resisted, holding on tight. She didn’t want anyone else, especially Master Rahl, to have to feel the agony she felt. She clutched it tight, trying to shield him from the full force of the suffering.

  It did no good. He was stronger than she was. With a fearful sense of concern for his safety, she felt the pain’s grasp slipping from her. With that impediment lifted away, his gift was able to twist down through her inner being, going deeper into her core in order to heal her.

  As she felt the last of that icy agony stripped away, she reveled in the mercy of being free of it and at last began to feel the warmth of his healing magic warming her.

  She hung suspended in that glowing warmth, only distantly aware that anything else existed but that comforting support.

  Magda lost all sense of time. She didn’t know how long she floated in that place of serenity. It could have been mere moments, or it could have been days. In that silent void, time lost all meaning. In that strange inner place, time ceased to exist.

  Gently, she became aware that it had ended.

  Her eyes at last opened and the room around her came into focus. She realized that she was lying on a couch. Lord Rahl stood over her, his brow beaded with sweat. He looked exhausted.

  The candles on the iron stand nearby were burned down to nubs. She knew, then, that it had lasted most of the night.

  Magda reached up and touched her ear, letting her fingers trail down along her jaw. It didn’t hurt anymore.

  Her chest didn’t ache inside, either. She placed her hand on her ribs, testing. They were sound and no longer hurt.

  But there was more. While she still missed Baraccus, still hurt that he was gone, it was different, now. The pain of losing him wasn’t so crushing as it had been. She still grieved, still felt the suffering of the loss, but she recognized that the sharpest edges of that misery were now softened just a bit.

  She would always miss her husband, always love him, but she knew, now, that she was going to be able to go on. She had to go on.

  “Thank you,” she whispered up at Lord Rahl.

  He showed her a weary smile. “I would suggest that you rest, but I fear that we can’t afford the time right now.”

  Magda sat up, wiping at her eyes, getting her bearings. “Is it still night?”

  His smile widened. “It’s a new day, Magda. Has been for a while now.”

  “Then we need to get to the council chambers. They will be in session. I need to convince them of the imminent danger. They must act.”

  Lord Rahl glanced down at her clothes. “Maybe you had best get cleaned up, first.”

  Magda stood, feeling remarkably steady. She had expected to at least still feel wobbly, but she didn’t. She felt alive. Really alive.

  She looked down at her dress. Large areas of it were soaked with blood. He was right, she needed to change. She touched her hair and found that it, too, was matted with dried blood. She glanced over at her reflection in a small mirror on the wall. Blood stained the sides of her face and neck.

  “I guess I do look a shocking mess. I had better clean up, first, before we go to see the council.”

  Alric Rahl nodded as he gestured at his two big bodyguards. “We’ll wait outside while you change and wash up.”

  Magda caught his arm as he started to turn toward the door.

  “No.”

  He frowned. “No?”

  “No. I want the council to see me like this. They need to see the reality of the blood that will be shed by our people at the hands of the dream walkers if they refuse to listen.”

  Lord Rahl smiled. “I don’t think that the council has yet ever really encountered the true resolve of Magda Searus.”

  She returned a haunted smile. “They are about to.”

  Chapter 14

  Magda kept her eyes straight ahead as she marched past towering, polished black marble columns to each side of the gallery leading toward the council chambers. Rounded moldings covered in gold atop the columns supported a thick architrave carved with robed figures meant to represent the members of the council.

  A gridwork of golden squares overspread the long, vaulted ceiling. Each square held a bronze medallion with a scene of a different place in the Midlands. Supposedly, as council members passed through the gallery they were walking beneath a grand display of the diversity of the Midlands so that they would be reminded to be mindful of all the far-flung people they represented as they went about their official deliberations. In Magda’s experience, it took more than bronze medallions to remind the council to be mindful of all the far-flung places of the Midlands.

  Magda passed beneath a line of long red silk banners hanging from the vaulted ceiling. They were meant to represent the blood that had been shed in defense of the people of the Midlands. The carpet she walked along, with the names of battles woven along the edges, was also red and meant to be a reminder of the struggles fought and the lives laid down so that others might live.

  Magda usually found passing through the gallery to be a somber experience. On this day, it was more somber than usual.

&
nbsp; The red banners and crimson carpet only served to help draw attention to the blood covering Magda. More than ever before, she felt a connection to those who had bled in defense of their motherland. If the council refused to listen to her, then a great deal more blood would be shed.

  As she marched down the long carpet, men to the sides paused in midconversation to stare openly. Women moved back. The drone of talking withered to whispers and then people fell silent as she passed, leaving a hush in her wake.

  As she entered the great rotunda not far from the council chambers, Magda saw small clusters of people all through the enormous room standing around talking, no doubt discussing matters waiting to be brought before the council. The conversation echoing around the room tapered off as people watched her advance through their midst, trailed by the Lord Rahl of the D’Haran Lands and his two huge bodyguards.

  Overhead, the high windows around the lower border of the golden dome let in early-morning sunlight to bathe the towering reddish marble pillars around the edge of the room in harsh light. Between the columns, against the stone wall, stood imposing statues of past leaders.

  Magda knew that one day a statue of Baraccus would take up a place of honor in this room leading to the Central Council.

  It was a strange thought that touched her with pride, yet at the same time served to highlight how Baraccus was slipping inexorably into her past.

  It wouldn’t be long before Baraccus became a figure left to history. People would no longer come to know him, they would only know bits and pieces about him. She wondered if the stories people in the future learned would bear any resemblance to the reality she had known with Baraccus. History, like memories themselves, tended to become distorted with the passing of time, or worse, corrupted with the agendas of those writing it.

  As much as she wished it were otherwise, Magda could do nothing to alter the past or to bring Baraccus back. He was now in the hands of the good spirits. Meanwhile, life went on. He had wanted her to go on.