Warheart (27 page)

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Authors: Terry Goodkind

BOOK: Warheart
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Richard nodded. “Especially since the people back in the great war–the ones who built that barrier in the first place and put the dangerous half people and occult powers they couldn't destroy behind the wall–knew that it was eventually going to fail. They didn't put Stroyza there in case it failed, they put it there because they knew it was going to fail, and they wanted us to have ample warning to defend ourselves. They didn't take the threat lightly. They wouldn't have let the fate of the world depend on such a tenuous method of warning people.”

Kahlan was frowning in thought. “When you put it that way, it doesn't make much sense.” She looked up. “So, what are you thinking? You believe they had some other way to warn people?”

“I do.”

Before he could say more, Commander Fister rushed in, holding his sword against his hip to keep it from flopping as he ran. He had several men with him. Kahlan recognized the men as the scouts who grew up in the Dark Lands.

 

CHAPTER

32

“Lord Rahl, what is it?” the breathless commander asked.

“Are the men getting horses together?”

“Of course, Lord Rahl. They are being packed with supplies, now. Are we to take you and the Mother Confessor back to the palace at long last?”

Richard waved off the question as a dead issue. “No. We would never make it. Just as the guardian at Stroyza would never have made it.”

The commander frowned as he panted, catching his breath. He glanced at Kahlan and Nicci before turning a puzzled look on Richard. “Where are we headed, then?”

“We're going to Stroyza.”

Kahlan knew that was where he wanted to go. She just didn't know why.

“Stroyza! Back across that forsaken, trackless wilderness and over the mountain passes we crossed to get here?”

“Irena said that there were roads and trails she used to come here before. I don't know if she really did come here, but she may have been right about there being roads.” He turned to the three men. “Is that true? Are there roads and trails we can use to get to Stroyza, rather than go back across those mountains at Saavedra's back door?”

Without having to think about it, the three nodded.

“There is a pretty good road part of the way,” one of them said, “but partway there it starts heading off in the wrong direction. From that point, though, we can take trails used by merchants as trade routes. That will at least get us close to Stroyza. It's not the easiest of trails, but far easier on horseback than going back over the mountains on foot and having to hack our way through uncharted wilderness.”

“All right, then, we need to leave at once.”

The commander clapped a fist to his heart. “As you wish, Lord Rahl. All the men can be ready to go before you get down to the stables.”

Richard looked over at the desk. “No, we're not all going. I need the men to split up. I only want to take a detachment of a dozen or so men. More will only slow us down.”

The commander cleared his throat. “I beg to differ, Lord Rahl. Not one of my men would slow us down. They would sooner die of exhaustion than slow you down. Besides, you will need their numbers if we're attacked by any more of the half people.”

Richard flashed the man a brief smile. “I understand your concern.” He gestured back at the scrolls. “But these scrolls are incredibly valuable to me–to all of us. They have already been in the wrong hands and that has resulted in all the trouble we now have. We must keep possession of those scrolls at all cost. They are to be protected with our lives. Eventually they will have to be taken back to the People's Palace, where I will need them. Until then, they must be guarded.”

The commander scratched his scalp as he glanced over at the desk piled high with scrolls. “Do you want the men to start back with them now?”

Off behind the hulking commander, Kahlan saw the scribe, Mohler, hurrying into the room. He came up behind the soldiers and stopped, waiting to be summoned. Richard urgently motioned him forward.

“Yes, Lord Rahl? What can I do for you?”

“I need you to collect all the Cerulean scrolls, including the ones that have similar symbols on them, and get them all packed up so they are safe to travel.”

“They arrived in leather tubes that protected them from the weather,” Mohler said. “A number of scrolls will fit in each one. If they are rolled tightly together, it would not take more than maybe ten or twelve of the tubes.”

“Are they waterproof?”

Mohler glanced over at the scrolls. “Enough to protect them from rain and such, but not enough if you were to drop them in a river or plunge them under water. They are very ancient, Lord Rahl, very fragile.”

“All right,” Richard said to the man, “pack them carefully for traveling, then seal the lids with pitch and wax to better protect them. It will also keep them from being opened.”

“Then take them back to the palace?” Commander Fister asked.

Richard considered a moment. “Not yet. They would be more vulnerable when traveling. For now they would be better protected here. This place is a fortress, after all. Hannis Arc and Emperor Sulachan have no reason to come back here. For now, I want the bulk of the men to stay here and protect them.”

The commander clearly looked reluctant but didn't argue. “As you wish, Lord Rahl.”

“And make sure that the men understand that these are incredibly valuable to stopping Sulachan and the half people. These scrolls must never again fall into enemy hands.”

The commander clapped a fist to his heart. “I will make sure they understand the importance of their mission.”

“Good,” Richard said with a nod.

“They will be guarded here, for now, but when would you like them taken to the palace?”

“When I succeed at stopping Sulachan. Then it will be safe to travel with them. If I don't succeed, well, I guess in that case it won't matter much.”

Commander Fister didn't understand, but neither did he question. “Lord Rahl, if I may ask, I would like to lead the men who are to go with you. These scrolls may be valuable, but they are not as valuable as you. You and the Mother Confessor are my primary responsibility. I would ask to be at the head of the detachment you take to Stroyza. I would feel a lot better if I was there to help protect you.”

“Of course,” Richard said. He leaned to the side, looking past the commander to the three Mord-Sith. “I want you three to come with us.”

Cassia frowned. “What made you think we would have allowed you to leave us behind?”

 

CHAPTER

33

Kahlan was glad to be leaving the citadel. It had been a place of sadness and tragedy. Cara had died there, as had a number of others. The fact that Richard was once again back with them in the world of life could not erase the indelible horror of seeing him lying dead, of seeing him on his funeral pyre.

But more than any other, it was the memory of almost giving the order to ignite his funeral pyre that kept creeping back into her mind. She knew that the memory of the order she had come so close to giving would haunt her as long as she lived and be the rich fodder of nightmares.

She mentally shook off the memory. He was alive and that was what mattered. She couldn't dwell on the past or on what might have been. She had to focus on what was and what they needed to do from here on out.

She was also glad to leave the citadel because of the scrolls that Richard had discovered there. She was still disturbed and upset over everything they had revealed. They had contradicted much of what she had learned growing up and been taught by wizards about how magic fit into the world. The scrolls, though, had skewed her understanding of everything to the point that she felt lost in a world she thought she knew. Her understanding of everything had been turned upside down.

She would like to dismiss the things Richard had told her, refuse to believe what he had discovered and attribute it to myth or far-fetched theory, but she knew she couldn't do that. Not only did she trust in what Richard was able to translate and figure out, but Nicci, too, served to validate everything Richard said. Nicci had a great deal of trust and faith in Richard, but she cared enough for him not to allow him to falsely believe something if it wasn't true.

Besides, in a very strange way, Kahlan found the new knowledge to be comforting. She supposed that was because it all had the ring of truth to it, but as disturbing as that truth might be, it was also exciting to have discovered a previously unknown mechanism responsible for so much that everyone simply took for granted. It was like peeking behind the curtain of Creation.

It was fascinating in the remarkable clarity it brought to so many things, like prophecy, that she had always taken at face value without ever questioning. It also made her feel a little resentful for being duped her whole life by all the various established authorities who claimed absolute certainty on such subjects. Richard's discoveries were like finding the key to so much that had been proclaimed to be unknowable and beyond the scope of knowledge of mere mortals.

It was a new world she would have to get used to, with new rules, and new challenges, but at least she felt as if the knowledge had given them the tools with which to fight to set things right. Now they knew what was really wrong, and that would better help Richard to do what he needed to do: end prophecy.

The irony of the prophecy that he was the one to end prophecy wasn't lost on her. In a way, it was poetic justice.

In a very fundamental way, what Richard had learned had already begun to cause prophecy to unravel.

Nicci, as much as she understood the truth contained within the scrolls, had been somewhat shaken by what they had revealed. The sorceress had been a Sister of the Light and had lived most of her life at the Palace of the Prophets, a place devoted to prophecy and teaching the gifted how to use it. But everything Nicci had learned there and thought she knew was built on misunderstanding and deception. When he had been taken there, Richard had peeled back the first layer, shedding new light on prophecy.

Now he had discovered that the entire structure of prophecy had no foundation in reality. The scrolls weren't myth. It was prophecy itself that was really founded in myth.

Of course, Nicci never held any favor with prophecy in the first place, so Kahlan supposed the woman wasn't as disturbed by what they had learned as she might otherwise have been. Nicci had always told them that she had viewed the study of prophecy as an onerous duty, and she had never taken delight in it the way many of the other Sisters had. There were Sisters there who had spent hundreds of years down in the vaults at the Palace of the Prophets, devoted to studying prophecy, delighting in what they believed they were learning, thinking they understood it.

Kahlan wondered what Sister Verna would think of what the scrolls had revealed–if they ever had the chance to see the woman again. There were a number of Sisters besides Verna now living at the Wizard's Keep, in Aydindril. While Kahlan had been somewhat disoriented and confused by learning that many of the things she thought she knew were wrong, she had a suspicion that many of those Sisters would be bewildered and horrified that their whole world, everything they had believed and worked for, was not at all what they had thought. Not even close.

As with all truth, there would be those who refused to believe it and would not even look at the proof.

As they turned down the main street through the city, people in Saavedra stared openly at the dozen big soldiers of the First File riding tall in their saddles along with the three Mord-Sith in red leather, all escorting the Mother Confessor and the Lord Rahl. Kahlan wondered if most of these people even knew who the Lord Rahl was. After all, the only ruler they had known for most of their lives had been Hannis Arc. The Lord Rahl had always been a distant leader in a far-off land.

As they rode through the city, the sound of the horses' hooves on the wet cobblestones echoed back from the warren of narrow streets and tightly packed buildings. Most of those buildings were low and drab, with only the ones on the main street having a second story. The wooden walls Kahlan could see had faded paint, if they had paint, and almost all of the wood was stained with dark, blotchy mold from the constant dampness.

The shops in the lower floors sold basic goods and few luxuries that Kahlan could see. Life in the Dark Lands was about surviving, and few could afford the finer things in life. The entire city was hunched defensively inward, with its back turned to the surrounding Dark Lands and the things living in it. In side streets vendors with small carts of bread, or meats, or general merchandise all watched with somber expressions as the column of horses trotted past. None rushed out to try to hawk their goods to the strangers riding past.

The overcast sky was as dark and threatening as it always seemed to be in the Dark Lands. Kahlan couldn't remember the last time she had seen the sun. The constant gloom was depressing. The accumulating mist soaked the reins and the exposed leather of the saddle. She shook the hood of her cloak to shed some of the gathered water. At least it was only misting lightly and not raining.

As the rapid clatter of all the hooves echoed through the canyons of tightly packed buildings, Kahlan patted the muscular neck of her bay mare, giving it a bit of reassurance that she would treat it well. Old scars on the horse's rump told Kahlan that previous riders had not been so kind or treated the horse well. They had obviously favored using a whip to make the animal do their bidding. The horse whinnied and tossed its head a little to let her know it had felt the gentle touch.

Richard rode a big black gelding that carried his weight easily. By the way it danced sideways at times when they stopped told her that the horse had some spirit. Richard looked magnificent on the horse. It was good to see him on one again. In the dull light his sword gleamed against his dark outfit. It was good to see him, too, with that glint of purpose in his eyes, even if those gray eyes also carried the shadow of poison.

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