Confessor (45 page)

Richard let out a sigh. “But that’s still trouble we don’t need. We’d have to walk over every guard we kill and every one of the men down there will be trying to stop us. As we force our way farther in they can surround us from behind. There are sure to be countless chambers, giving them the opportunity to come in from the sides as we advance. It’s a long way. What with helping Nicci it’s going to be more than difficult to fight our way through.”

“What choice do we have?” General Meiffert asked. “We need to get through and the only way is to eliminate anyone
who tries to stop us. It won’t be easy, but it’s our only hope.”

“Catacombs be black as pitch,” Adie said in her raspy voice. “If I use my gift to snuff out all the lights down there they not be able to see us.”

“But then how can we see?” Bruce asked.

“Your gift,” Richard said to Adie as he realized her plan. “You see with your gift.”

She nodded. “I be our eyes. My eyes be blinded when I be young. I see by my gift, not by light. I use my gift to snuff out their lights, then go first into the blackness. You all follow. We be as quiet as mice. They not even know that we be slipping through their midst. If I encounter guards, I find a way to slip around them by other routes so they not know we be there. If we must, we kill them, but it be better to sneak past them.”

“That sounds to me like our best chance.” Richard glanced at Nicci before looking to each of them in turn. No one offered any objections, so he went on.

“It’s set, then. General Meiffert talks to the captain of the guards. We take the wagon down into the pit while he goes after men for an escort. Once down in the pit Adie uses her gift to bring up a gust of wind to blow out the torches. In the confusion before they can light the torches we climb down into the catacombs. They’ll probably just assume that we started in on our work of collecting the books for the emperor. Once down inside, Adie leads the way and extinguishes any light we come across. She guides us through by the safest route. Anyone in the way who tries to stop us dies.”

“Just be ready if the captain of the guard is suspicious and wants to give us trouble,” the general said.

“If need be,” Adie said, “there be trouble. I make sure of it.”

Richard nodded. “We need to hurry, though. It’s going to
be light soon. We need darkness to get down in the catacombs without any of the guards seeing Nicci and Jillian. After we’re down inside it won’t matter, but out here we need to make this happen while we still have the night.”

“Then let’s get going,” the general said as he headed forward to lead the horses.

Richard glanced quickly to the eastern sky. Dawn was not far off. He and Bruce pulled the tarp down tight as the wagon began to rumble forward. Richard hoped they could get down into the eternal night of the catacombs in time.

Next to him, Nicci wept softly, unable to endure the agony, unable to summon death.

Her suffering was breaking Richard’s heart. All he could do was to squeeze her hand to let her know that she was not alone.

Richard listened to the wind howl as General Meiffert spoke in muffled words to the captain of the guard.

Richard leaned close to Nicci and whispered to her, “Hold on. It won’t be much longer.”

“I don’t think she can hear you anymore,” Jillian whispered from just on the other side of Nicci.

“She can hear me,” Richard said.

She had to hear him. She had to live. Richard needed her help. He didn’t know how to open the right box of Orden. He didn’t know anyone who could be more help to him than Nicci.

More important than that, though, Nicci was his friend. He cared deeply for her. He could always find other solutions if it came to that, but he couldn’t bear to lose her.

Nicci had often been the only person he could turn to, the person who had helped keep him focused, who had reminded him to trust in himself. In many ways she had been his only confidant since Kahlan had been taken.

He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her.

On the northeast bank above the stream, Rachel slipped down off the horse, clutching the reins as she peered all around, watching for any movement. In the early dawn light the dark humps of the barren hills made it look like she was in the midst of a pack of slumbering monsters.

She knew better, though. They were just hills. But there were real things that weren’t harmless figments of her imagination.

The ghostie gobblies were real, they were close, and they were coming for her.

White cliffs of twin hills rose up, facing each other across the banks of the stream. Sumac, their leaves already lost to the season, lined the narrow foot trail where she stood, trembling in the cold. The tall mouth of the cave stood close, waiting, like the open mouth of some great monster waiting to swallow her.

Rachel tied the reins of the horse to a sumac and scrambled along the loose dirt and gravel of the trail toward that waiting, dark maw. She peeked inside, looking to see if Queen Violet or Six was hiding there. She expected that Violet might leap out and slap her, then laugh in that haughty way of hers.

The cave was dark and empty.

Rachel twisted her fingers together as she again scanned the round hills. Her heart beat wildly as she looked for any movement. The ghostie gobblies were getting closer. They were coming for her. They were going to get her.

Inside the cave she saw the familiar drawings that she had seen so many times before. There were thousands of sketches covering every inch of the walls. Between large drawings, small ones were squeezed into the available space. Each one was different. Most looked like they had been drawn by different people. Some were so simple that they almost looked like they’d been drawn by children. Some were detailed and remarkably realistic-looking.

Rachel didn’t know how to judge such things, but to her it seemed that the drawings had to represent many generations of people. Considering the many different styles and various levels of refinement, they could easily represent dozens and dozens of generations of artists, maybe hundreds.

All the drawings had people in them. All the people in the drawings were being hurt, or troubled, or starved, or poisoned, or stabbed, or lying broken at the bottom of cliffs, or grieved over graves. The drawings gave Rachel nightmares.

She squatted down and felt the oil lamps. They were cold. No one had been in the caves. She retrieved a flint and steel from a small niche cut into the wall of the cave and used it to strike a spark at the wick of a lamp.

She tried a number of times and was able to get a good spark, but not a flame in the wick. She glanced back over her shoulder between tries. She was running out of time. They were coming. They were getting close now.

Rachel shook the lamp to get more oil on the wick then frantically struck the flint and steel together. It took half a dozen tries but to her great relief she finally got a flame going.

She picked the lamp up by the loop handle and stood. She stared out of the mouth of the cave, looking for any movement, looking for the ghostie gobblies. She didn’t see them, but she knew they were coming. She thought she could hear them, out in the scrub brush. She was sure she could feel them looking at her.

With the lamp in hand she rushed back into the darkness, away from the ghostie gobblies, to safety…she hoped. She had to get away. They were coming. They could get her everywhere else. This was her only chance.

Knowing how close they were she was frantic with fright. Tears stung her eyes as she ran back into the cave, past all the drawings of people being hurt.

It was a long way back into the darkness. A long way to where she thought she might find the only place where she could be safe. The lamplight raced over the face of the rock all around, lighting the faces drawn on the walls.

Deep into the cave the light from the cave’s opening was only a distant soft glow. Crawling over a jutting outcrop-ping of rock, she could see her breath as she panted not only with effort but with gathering panic. She didn’t know how far she had to go to be safe. She only knew that the ghostie gobblies were coming for her and she had to keep going, had to get away.

She came to the drawing she remembered all too well. It was a drawing that Rachel had watched Queen Violet make with Six’s help. Although they had never mentioned his name, Rachel knew that it was a drawing of Richard. With all the things drawn around the central figure it was the biggest drawing in all of the cave. It was also the most complex.

Unlike all the rest of the pictures, Violet’s had been done with colored chalk. Rachel remembered all the time Queen Violet had spent on it—back when she had been the queen—all the careful instruction Six had given her, all the careful sequences of lines and angles and elements. Rachel
remembered having to stand there for hours at a time, listening as Six explained the why and how of everything Violet was to draw before she had been allowed to put chalk to the stone wall.

Rachel stared at the drawing of Richard for a moment, thinking that it had to be one of the most awful, sinister things she had ever seen.

But then, ever terrified of what was coming for her, she rushed onward, scrambling over rock and along ledges, going deeper back into the darkness.

Whenever Six had directed Violet in practice drawings, or when they had wanted to draw something new, they had always had to go deeper and deeper back into the cave to find fresh walls to draw on. Rachel remembered all too well that the picture of Richard was the last thing they had drawn, so she knew that beyond it the walls would be barren.

As she went past the colored network of lines and symbols radiating out all around Richard, Rachel was startled to see something she had never seen before. She came to a halt. There was a new drawing.

She stared in astonishment. It was a drawing of her.

All around the picture of her were swirling creatures. Rachel recognized the symbols that forced them in toward her. The awful beasts were like ghosts made of shadow and smoke. Except they had teeth. Sharp teeth. Teeth made to rip and tear.

Without any doubt whatsoever, Rachel knew what they were. They were the ghostie gobblies.

She stood frozen staring at the picture of the terrible deadly things that had been sicced on her by vicious spells drawn there on the cave wall.

She knew from the long hours spent listening to Six lecture Violet what many of the symbols represented. Six had called them “terminal elements.” They were designed to eliminate the principal agents of the spell after the end of
the sequence of events the drawing was meant to start. She understood the nature of the picture, and what it all meant. It meant that after the ghostie gobblies got her, they would melt away out of existence.

In the drawing the things made out of nightmares were all around her, coming ever in toward her. She could see, now, that there was no escape. The safety she had thought she was running toward was merely the center where they had been chasing her toward, the center where she would be trapped, unable to ever escape.

She heard a sound and looked toward the dim glow of light from the cave’s entrance. For the first time she saw the shadows and swirls. They were in the cave. They were gathering, just like in the drawing on the wall. They were coming for her.

Rachel stood frozen in terror. She realized that she could no longer get out of the cave. She could only go deeper. But by looking at the drawing she could see that going deeper into the cave would not save her—there were ghostie gobblies back there, too. She was trapped, unable to go deeper, unable to get out. She was at the center of a spell that was designed to continually close in around her.

“Like it?” someone called out.

Rachel gasped and spun toward the voice echoing in the blackness.

“Queen Violet.”

The face, faintly lit in the light of the oil lamp, grinned out from the darkness. Violet was there to watch, to see the ghostie gobblies get her, to witness the results of her handiwork.

“I thought you might like to come and see where they came from before they rip you apart. I wanted you to know who was getting even with you.” She gestured to the wall. “So I drew it in a way that would make you have to come here in the end. I made this the place where they would fi
nally have you trapped.” She leaned out a little from the darkness. “Where they would finally get you.”

Rachel didn’t bother to ask Violet why she would do such a thing. She knew why. Violet blamed her for everything bad that ever happened to her. She never blamed herself for the trouble she brought upon herself; she blamed others, blamed Rachel.

“Where is Six?”

Violet gestured dismissively. “Who knows. She doesn’t tell me her business.” Violet’s glare turned as dark as the cave itself. “She is queen now. No one listens to me anymore. They do what she says. They call her queen. Queen Six.”

“What about you?”

“She only keeps me around to draw for her.” Violet pointed a finger at Rachel. “It’s all your fault. It’s all because of you.”

Violet’s glare twisted into the smile that had always given Rachel chills. “But now you will pay for your disrespect, your evil ways. Now you will pay.” The smile widened with satisfaction. “I made them so that they will tear the flesh from your bones. Pick you clean.”

Rachel swallowed in terror.

She wondered if she could fight her way past the smirking Violet. But what good would that do? They would soon be coming out of the deeper darkness as well.

Chase had taught her never to give up, to fight for her life. She knew that she had to do that now. But how? How could she fight such creatures? She had to think of something.

She glanced around. There was no chalk anywhere.

At the sound of a screeching howl she gasped and looked up to see the ghostie gobblies floating closer, like smoke swimming and swirling in through the length of the dark cave. Rachel could see the sharp little teeth in the open mouths of the things—teeth made to rip and tear her flesh from her bones.

“I want you to say you’re sorry.”

Rachel blinked as she turned back to Violet. “What?”

“Tell me you’re sorry. Get down on a knee and tell your queen that you’re sorry for betraying her. Maybe if you do I’ll help you.”

Grasping desperately for any hope, Violet quickly went to a knee and bowed her head forward, using the moment it took to think.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry…what?”

“I’m sorry, Queen Violet.”

“That’s right. I am your queen. While Six is gone, I am the queen around here. The queen! Say it!”

“You are the queen, Queen Violet.”

Violet smiled in satisfaction. “Good. I want you to remember that as you die.”

Rachel looked up. “But you said that you would help me.”

Queen Violet, laughing to herself, retreated farther back into the darkness. “I only said maybe. I’ve decided you don’t deserve my help. You’re a nobody.”

Behind her, rasping little growls were coming closer. Rachel thought she might faint from her clawing fright.

She reached into the pocket of her dress and felt something there—the thing her mother had given her. She pulled it out and stared at it in the lamplight. Now she knew what it was.

It was a piece of chalk.

When her mother had given it to her Rachel had been in such a hurry to get away from the ghostie gobblies that she hadn’t really paid attention to what it was.

Her mother had told her that when she needed it she would know what to do.

Rachel glanced back into the darkness. She could see the back of Violet’s head as she retreated farther back into
the cave, away from the violent death that she knew was about to take her.

Rachel looked back the other way and saw the snarling things swimming through the air, coming closer, their mouths opening wide, their needle-sharp teeth snapping and snapping.

She immediately stepped to the drawing Violet had done to trap her. Rachel used the chalk to swiftly add lines and shading, making the figure thicker, rounder. She made the face rounder, and then put a hateful scowl on it. The chalk flew across the stone as she filled in a frilly dress, the kind of dresses that Violet always liked to wear. Finally, remembering what Violet liked to wear in the jewel room, Rachel drew a crown on the head, changing the picture for good from her, into Queen Violet.

Violet claimed to be the queen. Rachel had just crowned her, giving her what she demanded.

She heard a scream from the darkness.

When she saw them coming from the other side, Rachel pressed her back up against the wall as the creatures floated, wriggled, and swam through the air, making their way back into the darkness.

Rachel, her eyes wide, held her breath as the snarling, snapping wispy forms floated past her.

Her heart hammering, Rachel listened to Violet scream hysterically.

“What have you done!” she cried out from the darkness.

Violet rushed forward into the light. Rachel could see Violet through the ghostly things going back into the cave toward her. Violet’s eyes grew big as she saw them coming for her.

“What have you done!” Violet screamed again.

Rachel didn’t answer. She was too terrified as she watched.

“Rachel—help me! I’ve always loved you! How could you do this to me!”

“You did it to yourself, Queen Violet.”

“I’ve always been a kind and loving person!”

“Kind and loving?” Rachel could hardly believe her ears. “Your life has been devoted to hate, Queen Violet.”

“I only hated those who did me wrong, who were evil and selfish! I always did what was best for my people. I treated you well. I gave you food and shelter. I gave you more than a nobody like you would ever have had without my help. I showed you only generosity. Help me, Rachel. Help me and I will reward you.”

“I want to live. That is my reward.”

“How can you be so cruel—so hateful? How can you allow this to happen to another human being? How can you be a party to such a thing?”

“You are the one who created the ghostie gobblies.”

“You’ve betrayed me! I hate you! I hate the air you breathe!”