Confessor (35 page)

Richard woke abruptly from a light sleep. Even in the dead of night the camp was alive with sound and activity. Everywhere, it seemed, there were men yelling, laughing, and swearing. Metal clanged, horses whinnied, and mules brayed. In the distance Richard could see the ramp, along with lines of men and wagons, lit by torches. Even in the middle of the night the construction continued without pause.

But none of that was what had awakened him. Something closer in had caught his attention.

He saw shadows slipping through the ring of guards and the circle of low supply wagons that marked out his prison. He counted four of the dark figures stealing silently through the darkness. A quick check to the sides revealed another off to the right. He wondered if they had really snuck through unseen or if the guards had allowed them to pass.

By their size, Richard knew who they were. After what Commander Karg had told him about his bet with Jagang, Richard had been expecting visitors. It was the last thing he needed, but it wasn’t like he had any choice in the matter.

What really worried him was that, chained to the wagon,
his options were limited. He could hardly hide. He certainly couldn’t run. Fighting five men, maybe more, was not something he wanted to have to do before the game the next day. He couldn’t afford to be injured—least of all now.

He glanced to the side and saw that Johnrock was not close. The big man was lying on his side, facing away, sound asleep. Calling out to his sleeping wing man would cost Richard the only thing he had going for him: surprise. The men coming for him thought he was asleep. For all Richard knew, if he called out to Johnrock the five might first go over and cut Johnrock’s throat so that they could go to work on Richard without worry of interruption.

The four big men slipped in close, forming a semicircle. They obviously knew that his chain would keep him from escaping, and blocking him would keep him from having room to maneuver. By how quiet they were being, they appeared to still think he was asleep.

One of the men, arms straight out to each side for balance, took a long step in and threw a kick at Richard’s head as if he were kicking the broc in an effort to keep it away from an opponent. Richard was ready. He rolled to the side and then whipped the length of chain around the man’s ankle. With all his might he yanked back the chain. It pulled the man’s feet out from under him. He landed on his back with a heavy thud, banging his head on the ground.

“On your feet,” one of the other men growled now that he knew Richard was awake.

Richard gripped a folded length of chain on the ground behind him, keeping it out of sight, but he didn’t get up.

“Or?” he asked.

“Or we kick your head in where you sit. Your choice, standing or sitting, you’re going to get hurt just the same.”

“So, you really are afraid—just like everyone says.”

The man paused for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re afraid that you’ll lose to us tomorrow,” Richard said.

“We’re afraid of nothing,” another of the shadowy figures said.

“You wouldn’t be here unless you were afraid.”

“It has nothing to do with us being afraid of anything,” the first man said. “We’re only doing as His Excellency asks of us.”

“Ah,” Richard said. “So it’s Jagang who fears that we’ll beat you. That tells me a lot. It should tell you something, too—that we’re better than you and you can’t win in a fair match. Jagang knows it as well, that’s why he sent you—because you’re not good enough to beat us at Ja’La.”

As another man, cursing under his breath at the delay, reached out to grab him, Richard swung the looped section of chain from behind his back as hard as he could. It caught the man square in the side of his face. He spun away, crying out from the unexpected shock of pain.

As a third man charged in, Richard dropped back onto his shoulders. With all his strength he kicked up into the center of the man’s gut, using the man’s falling weight against him. The blow rammed the man back at the same time as it drove the wind from his lungs.

The first man was already on his feet again. The man who had taken the chain across his face was still writhing on the ground. The other, holding an arm across his middle, rolled to his feet, catching his breath, eager for revenge. The fourth and fifth men came in from opposite sides.

Two of the downed men were up, eager to rejoin the fight. Now four strong, the men charged in all at once. There were too many hands grabbing for the chain all at once for Richard to keep them from getting ahold of it. As he tried to whip it out of their reach, one of the men lunged and managed to capture the heavy links in both hands.

Richard swung his leg around, knocking one of the remaining men’s feet out from under him. He landed heavily on a shoulder. The other two seized the chain and then grunted with mighty effort as they yanked it back. The slack in the chain snapped taut. The sudden jerk felt like it might rip Richard’s head off as it flung him sprawling on his face. The choking pain in his throat was so severe that for a second he thought the iron collar might have crushed his windpipe.

While Richard was momentarily stunned, fighting the rising sense of panic, one of the men kicked him in the ribs. The blow felt like it might have broken a rib. Richard tried to spin away but they again yanked the chain back from the other direction, twisting the iron collar around his neck and flipping him over backward. The iron burned as it bit into his flesh.

The guards in the distance remained where they were, watching. They would not be eager to get involved. After all, these were men from the emperor’s team.

As it snapped taut, Richard seized the chain as he got to his knees, holding tight, trying to keep the men from using the chain and collar to break his neck. Three of the men gave a mighty pull. They managed to yank Richard off balance and over onto his back.

A boot came down toward his face. Richard turned his head aside just in time. Dust and dirt flew. Fists and boots came crashing in from all directions.

Holding the chain with one hand, Richard used his other to knock one man back. He blocked the punch from another and elbowed a third in the thigh, momentarily dropping the man to a knee. Still, as fast as he could block or escape their blows, yet more rained in. With the men holding tension on the chain he couldn’t maneuver and he dared not let go of the chain altogether.

Richard pulled himself into a defensive crouch, protect
ing his midsection, making himself as small a target as he could, getting as much of a lead in the chain as he could. One of the men cocked an arm and threw a punch. Richard let go of the chain and used his left forearm to deflect the blow. At the same time he sprang up inside the man’s defenses and rammed an elbow up into the attacker’s jaw with bone-cracking force. The man staggered back.

Now that he had a little more slack in the chain, Richard ducked under a punch and kicked sideways into the man’s knee. The blow did enough damage to draw a cry of pain and cause the man to start to hobble back to get out of danger, but Richard immediately used the opportunity to kick the side of the man’s other knee, folding his legs under. As he came crashing down, Richard brought his knee up into the man’s face.

As another punch flew in, Richard dodged to the left and grabbed the man’s wrist. With an iron grip on the wrist, he slammed the heel of his left hand into the back of the man’s elbow. The joint popped. The man screamed as he pulled his dislocated arm away.

Another punch flew in. Richard deflected it across, past his face, then, as the man quickly punched with the other fist, Richard deflected the arm in the opposite direction, over the attacker’s other arm. With the man’s arms crossed and tension on the elbow preventing any escape, Richard used the leverage on the crooked arm to flip the big man over.

Even with the success he was having, it was difficult to fight the men off, because the chain around his neck prevented him from moving effectively. He knew, though, that, despite the difficulty, he had no choice but to think of what he could do, not what he couldn’t do.

It was also difficult for Richard to fight the men because he dared not use the kinds of blows he would have liked to do. If he killed any of the emperor’s players it would, in all
likelihood, be an excuse for Jagang to charge Richard with murder and have him put to death. Jagang hardly needed an excuse to execute a man, but Richard’s team was becoming well known and if Richard was executed the soldiers in the camp would suspect that it was because Jagang knew his team couldn’t beat Richard’s team. Richard doubted that Jagang cared a great deal about what anyone said, but the excuse of murder would certainly give him justification.

If Commander Karg’s point man was dead, Jagang wouldn’t have to worry about losing Nicci to him. Jagang’s team was formidable, and stood a good chance of winning, but without Richard as point man there was no doubt that the emperor’s team would be victorious.

At the same time, Jagang might not need to bother having Richard executed. His men seemed intent on accomplishing the task themselves. They wouldn’t be punished if they killed Richard in a fight. Who with any authority would ever even know, except Commander Karg, and Richard didn’t think that even Karg would dare to make an issue of a captive man dying in a fight. Men in the camp died in fights all the time. Such fights were common enough and, as far as Richard knew, only rarely punished. This would just be passed off as an argument gone bad.

Worse, though, if Richard was killed then Kahlan would have no chance. She would be forever lost to the Chainfire spell, a living phantom of her former self.

That thought alone made Richard fight with a fury, even if he had to be careful to strike with the intent of stopping rather than killing. Pulling blows wasn’t at all easy to do in the heat of a fight for his own life and Richard was taking nearly as much punishment as he was dealing out.

When one of the men again threw a punch, Richard seized the man’s arm. Grunting with the effort, he ducked under the extended arm, twisting it around, and flipped the man to the ground.

As Richard himself was knocked to the ground, he scooped up a length of chain and spun, whipping it across the face of one of the men. The sound of steel against flesh and bone was sickening. Another man kicked Richard hard enough to drive the wind from his lungs.

The blows Richard was taking were wearing him down. Even though the fight had only started moments before it seemed like hours. The furious effort to defend himself was exhausting him.

Just as another man lunged at him, the man was suddenly jerked back.

Johnrock had thrown a loop of his own chain around the man’s neck. As the man clawed at the chain, struggling to breathe, Johnrock pulled him back away from Richard. In a fury of fists, feet, and flailing chain, Johnrock helped Richard drive the men back.

Someone else, yelling angry threats, appeared in the darkness, running in through the ring of guards. Richard was so busy fighting off the men, trying to deflect a flurry of fists, he couldn’t tell who it was.

All of a sudden the new man seized one of the attackers by the hair and threw him back. In the light from nearby torches Richard saw the tattoos of scales. Commander Karg yelled that the five men were cowards and threatened to have them beheaded. He kicked at them as he ordered them to get out of his team’s quarters.

All five scrambled to their feet and abruptly vanished back into the night. It was suddenly over. Richard lay in the dirt, not even trying to get up.

Commander Karg angrily pointed a finger at the guards. “If you men let anyone else get through, I’ll have you all skinned alive! Do you understand?”

The guards back by the ring of wagons, looking sheepish and worried, all answered that they understood. They swore that no one else would get through.

As he lay panting in pain, trying to catch his breath, Richard hardly heard the commander’s yelling. The fight had been brief, but the blows the powerful men from Jagang’s team had landed had done damage.

Johnrock knelt down, easing Richard over onto his back. “Ruben, are you all right?”

Richard carefully moved his arms, lifted his knees, and gingerly rolled his foot, testing his throbbing ankle, taking appraisal of his limbs, checking to see if they all worked, checking to see if he could move everything. He hurt all over. He was pretty sure that he wasn’t crippled, but he didn’t try to get up just yet. He didn’t think that right then he could have.

“I think so,” he said.

“What was that all about?” Johnrock demanded of Snake-face.

Commander Karg shrugged. “Ja’La dh Jin.”

Johnrock paused in surprise at the answer. “Ja’La dh Jin?”

“It’s the Game of Life. What do you expect?”

By his deepening frown, Johnrock apparently didn’t understand. Richard did.

The Game of Life was about more than just what happened on the field. It included everything that surrounded the game—what came before and what came after. It was strategy and intimidation beforehand, the play itself out on the field, and what resulted from the outcome of that game. Because of the rewards after the game, what took place before became part of the game itself. Ja’La dh Jin wasn’t just the game on the field, it encompassed everything.

Life was about survival. If you lived, if you died, all depended on what you did in life. Survival was what mattered. That made everything all a part of the game, just as everything in life mattered. A woman camp follower stabbing a player on an opposing team so that her team would win, painting the men with red paint, or cracking the skull
of the point man on the other team in the middle of the night was all part of the game of life.

If you were to live, then you had to fight to live. It was as simple as that. That was the Game of Life. Life and death were the reality that counted, not how someone followed a prescribed set of rules. If you died because you failed to protect yourself, you couldn’t cry foul after you were dead. You had to fight for your own life, fight to win, no matter the circumstances.

Commander Karg stood. “Get some rest—both of you. Tomorrow decides if you live or if you die.”