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CHAPTER
3
Richard gradually released the pressure on the dead man’s neck. As the remaining air hissed from his lifeless lungs, his head flopped crookedly to one side.
One of the men standing above him lifted the limp arm of the other, smaller of the two dead men atop Richard and pulled him off to the side. Even in death, there was still a bloody snarl frozen on the face.
A mask of blood had run down to cover the side of the man’s face. Fragments of bone stuck up from his matted hair. Richard saw that the back of his head had been bashed in with a large rock that one of the other men crowded in close still held in a tight grip.
As the man with the broken neck began to slowly slip off to the side, one of the women, the one who had touched Richard’s arm, used a foot to shove the bigger of the two dead men aside. It was a relief to have the suffocating weight finally off.
The woman picked up the bloody knife that the second attacker had dropped when his skull had been crushed in. Leaning close, she sliced at the rope binding Richard’s hands and they at last parted. She moved down and cut the rope tying his ankles together.
“Thank you,” Richard said. He was more than relieved to at last be free. “You saved my life.”
“For the moment,” a man in the shadows said.
“We hope you will return the favor,” another added.
Richard didn’t know what he meant, but he had bigger worries at the moment.
With an angry gesture, the woman with the knife hushed the men before turning her attention back to Richard.
He saw in the weak light of the full moon that illuminated the cloud cover that she was middle-aged. Fine lines creased her face in an agreeable way. It was too dark to tell the color of her eyes, but not the determination in them. Her expression, too, was one of grim resolve.
The woman leaned closer to press a hand to the bite wound on the side of his upper arm to try to stop the bleeding. Her gaze turned up to his as she held pressure in the wound.
“Are you the one who killed Jit, the Hedge Maid?” she asked.
Surprised by the question, Richard nodded as he looked around at all the stony faces watching him. “How do you know that?”
With her free hand, the woman pulled stray strands of her straight, shoulder-length hair back from her face. “A boy, Henrik, came to us a little while ago. He told us that he had been her captive, and that she intended to kill him like all the others she had killed. He said that two people rescued him and killed the Hedge Maid, but now they were in trouble and needed help.”
Richard leaned forward. “Was there anyone else with him?”
“I’m afraid not. Just the boy.”
Even though Richard had killed the Hedge Maid, he and Kahlan had both been grievously hurt. Their friends had brought a small army to get the two of them out of the Hedge Maid’s lair and take them home. Now, those friends were all missing. He knew that none of them would have willingly left Kahlan and him alone like this.
“Henrik was the one who told my friends what had happened and where they could find us,” Richard said. “They should have been with him.”
The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, but he was alone. Terrified, and alone.”
“Did he tell you what happened, here?” Richard asked. “Did he tell you where those who were with us are now?”
“He was winded and in a panic to find help. He said there was no time to explain. He said we had to hurry and help you. We came right away.”
Now that Richard was free and the rush of the fight was over, the shock of pain had begun to bear down on him in earnest. He touched his forehead with trembling fingers.
“But did he say anything else at all?” Richard asked. “It’s important.”
The woman glanced around in the darkness as she shook her head. “He said that you had been attacked and needed help. We knew that we had to hurry. Henrik is back at our village. When we get back you can question him yourself. For now, we must get in out of the night.” She gestured urgently to the woman behind her. “Give me your scarf.”
The woman immediately pulled it off her head and handed it over. The woman kneeling beside Richard used the scarf as a bandage, wrapping it high around his upper arm several times. She swiftly knotted it, then stuck the knife handle under the knot and twisted it around to tighten the tourniquet. Richard gritted his teeth against the pain.
He couldn’t seem to slow his racing heart. He was worried about all those who had been with him, worried as to what could have happened to them. He needed to get to Henrik and find out what was going on. More than that, though, he was worried about getting help for Kahlan.
“We shouldn’t be out here any longer,” one of the men in back quietly cautioned, trying to hurry the woman.
“Almost done,” she said as she quickly appraised some of his more obvious injuries. “You need these wounds sewn closed and treated with poultice or they will be infected by morning,” she told Richard. “Bites like this are not to be ignored.”
“Please,” Richard said as he gestured with his other arm toward the wagon. “Help my wife? I fear that she is hurt worse.”
With a quick gesture from the woman, two of the men hurried to the wagon.
“Is she the Mother Confessor?” one of the men called back as he checked on her.
Richard’s sense of caution rose. “Yes.”
“I don’t think that we can do anything for her here,” he said.
The other man spotted the sword and picked it up from the ground. His gaze glided over the ornately wrought gold and silver scabbard before taking in the word TRUTH made of gold wire woven through the silver wire wrapping the hilt.
“Then you would be the Lord Rahl?”
“That’s right,” Richard said.
“Then there is no doubt. You are the ones we came looking for,” the man said. “The boy, Henrik, told us who you were. We came to find you.”
Richard’s concern eased at hearing that it was Henrik who had told them exactly who he and Kahlan were.
“Enough,” the woman said. She quickly turned back to Richard. “Glad we were in time, Lord Rahl. I’m Ester. Now we have to get you both back to safety.”
“Richard will do.”
“Yes, Lord Rahl,” she said absently, as if no longer listening as she pressed at wounds, checking their depth.
Ester motioned to some of the other men behind her. “You will need to help him. He’s badly hurt. We have to get out of here before those who did this come back.”
Several men, relieved to hear that she was finally ready to leave, rushed in to help Richard to his feet. Once up, Richard insisted on going to Kahlan. The men steadied him when he staggered to the wagon.
Richard saw that Kahlan was still unconscious, but breathing. He laid a hand on her, aching with fear over her condition. Her clothes were soaked in blood from the ordeal with the Hedge Maid. The thought of that vile creature and what she had been doing to Kahlan again awakened Richard’s anger.
The Hedge Maid had been drinking Kahlan’s blood.
He slid his hand through the long slit in her shirt, feeling where Jit’s familiars had slashed open Kahlan’s abdomen to bleed her and collect her blood for the Hedge Maid to drink. He was worried not only about the severity of the terrible wound, but how much blood she had lost. To his astonishment, he found only a few swollen ripples in her skin where the long wound had been nearly healed.
Richard recalled, then, the touch he had felt—the touch of a healing begun, but not finished. Zedd or Nicci must have healed the deep wound on Kahlan, but from the rest of the wounds still evident on her, Richard could see that, as with him, they hadn’t finished what they had started. Because he remembered that it had been Nicci’s healing touch on him, he suspected that it would have been Zedd who had started healing Kahlan.
Richard was thankful that Zedd had managed to heal the terrible gash in Kahlan’s abdomen, but he hadn’t had time to heal everything. She had a number of wounds that still bled. He knew, too, that she must have other serious injuries or she would not be unconscious.
“Do you have someone who can help her?” Richard asked. “A gifted person?”
Ester hesitated. “We have someone gifted who may be able to help,” she finally said.
One of the men behind leaned close, taking hold of Ester’s dress at her shoulder to pull her back a bit as he whispered in her ear. “Do you think that wise?”
The woman turned an angry look on the man. “What choice is there? Should we instead let them die?”
He straightened, his only answer a sigh.
“But we must hurry,” Ester said. “She can’t heal them if they’re dead.”
“Besides that,” another man reminded her, “we need to get all of us in out of the night.”
At his words, others glanced around in the darkness. Richard noted that they all seemed terrified of being out after dark. Having once been a woods guide, he had often visited country folk. It was a relatively common attitude among them to want to shut themselves in when the sun went down. People in more remote places tended to be more superstitious than most, and the one common thing they all feared was darkness.
Although, he had to admit that these people certainly had real things to fear.
Richard watched as several men gently lifted Kahlan and then placed her over the shoulder of the biggest man. Richard wanted to carry her himself, but he knew that he couldn’t even walk by himself. He reluctantly let two of the men put their shoulders under his arms to help him stay upright.
In the faint moonlight and soft golden glow of lanterns that several of the people carried, Richard looked back beyond the wagon. For the first time, he saw countless bodies. They weren’t the men of the First File. Strange, pale, half-naked people lay sprawled across the ground everywhere. Given their gaping wounds, it looked like the First File had fought a fierce battle. Given the numbers of the dead, it was no wonder that the damp air smelled of blood and gore.
Nearby, just beyond the corner of the wagon, one of the dead men lay sprawled on his back, mouth agape. His dead eyes stared up at the dark sky.
The man’s teeth had been filed to points.
Richard’s grandfather Zedd and the sorceress Nicci had brought elite soldiers with them to see Richard and Kahlan safely back to the People’s Palace. None of them would have abandoned the two of them. Richard scanned the scattered bones among pieces of uniforms, insignias, and the weapons of the First File lying scattered across the ground. It was a horrifying sight. But he didn’t see anything that looked like it belonged to Zedd or Nicci or Cara.
Cara, his and Kahlan’s personal bodyguard, was Mord-Sith. She would not have left him for any reason short of death, and he’d always suspected that even then Cara would come back from the world of the dead to protect him.
He feared that out there in the darkness where he couldn’t see them, the bones of all those he cared so much about were among the dead. Panic at the thought of losing those so close to him tightened his chest.
“Hurry now,” Ester said, pushing at the men helping to hold Richard up. “He’s bleeding badly. We have to get back.”
The others were more than happy to start away from the sight of so much death and head back to safety.
Richard let the men half carry him onto a narrow path through the wall of trees and into the night.
CHAPTER
4
On their swift journey through a forest so dense that the floor of the trail remained nearly untouched by moonlight, all of the people around him kept a wary watch of the surrounding darkness. Richard, too, scanned the woods, but he could see little beyond the weak lantern light. There was no way of telling what might be back in the black depths of the woods, no way of telling if the mysterious, half-naked people who had slaughtered his friends might be following him.
Every sound caught his attention and drew his eye. Every branch that brushed against him or snagged on his pant leg elevated his heart rate.
From what he could see, the people he was with carried nothing more than utilitarian knives. They had used a rock to dispatch the man attacking Richard. He would hate to encounter the hordes of killers on the dark trail and have to fight them off with little more than rocks.
He was glad to have the tooled leather baldric back over his right shoulder and his sword again at his left hip. From time to time he absently touched the familiar hilt of his sword for reassurance. He knew, though, that he was in little condition to fight.
Still, just touching the ancient weapon stirred its latent power and the silent storm of rage it held within it, stirring its twin within him and enticing him to call it forth. It was reassuring to have that faithful weapon and its attendant power at his beck and call.
Because some of the people had lanterns, Richard scanned the blackness for eye shine that would reveal the presence and position of animals beyond the limited range of the lantern light. While he did see some small creatures like frogs, a raccoon, and some night birds, he didn’t see any eyes of larger animals watching them.
Of course, it was always possible that something larger could have been hidden among the dense clusters of ferns and shrubs or back among the tree trunks so that Richard wouldn’t have seen them.
And, of course, there would have been no eye shine if the eyes watching them were human.
Since he couldn’t really see anything in the black depths of the woods, he depended instead on sounds and smells that might tip him off to a threat. The only thing he smelled, though, was the familiar scent of balsam, ferns, and the mat of pine needles, dried leaves, and forest litter covering the ground. The only sounds he heard were the buzz of insects and sometimes the sharp call of night birds. Distant, faint cries of coyotes occasionally echoed through the mountains.
All of the people taking Richard and Kahlan to the safety of their village refrained from talking on the journey. The wary group walked swiftly but nearly silently, the way only those who had spent a lifetime in the woods were able to do. Even the man ahead who was carrying Kahlan made little noise as he moved along the trail. Richard, unable to walk very well and sometimes dragging his feet as the men on either side helped him, was making more noise than any of the rest of them, but there was little he could do about it.
With all the bodies of strange people he had seen back near the wagon, to say nothing of the two men who had attacked him and the things he had overheard, as well as all the warnings he’d previously gotten about venturing into the Dark Lands, Richard could easily see why these people were nervous and being so careful. The two men who had attacked him had looked nothing like the bodies he had seen. If those two men had been right, then the dead were the mysterious people they had mentioned, the Shun-tuk.
It seemed that unlike other country folk Richard knew back home, the people with him had more reason for their fears than simple superstition.
He appreciated it when people took real dangers seriously. The people who most often invited trouble were the willfully ignorant who didn’t want to believe trouble was possible, so they dismissed the potential for it. You couldn’t be ready for what you never considered or were unwilling to consider. Worry was sometimes a valuable survival tool, so Richard thought it foolish to ignore it. But still, since they were so lightly armed, he didn’t think these people took the threats seriously enough.
Either that, or perhaps the threats they faced were something new to them.
It wasn’t long before they abruptly emerged from the confining, oppressive darkness of the forest into the open. A light mist borne on cooler air dampened Richard’s face.
In the distance across the slightly rolling ground out ahead of them, lit by the muted moonlight, Richard saw a sheer rock wall rising up. Partway up the cliff face he could see faint, flickering light, probably from candles and lanterns, in passageways that looked to go back into the rock.
Making its way ever onward toward the cliff, the trail passed between large fields, some planted with grain, others with vegetables. Once among the fields spreading out from the foot of the soaring cliff, the people with him finally felt safe enough to start whispering among themselves.
As they got closer to the rock wall, they came upon pens made of split rails. Some of the pens held sheep, others rather skinny hogs. A few milk cows stood together in a tight cluster in the corner of one pen. Long coops set among boulders fallen from the mountain towering over them looked like they were for chickens that were no doubt roosting for the night. Richard saw a few men tending to the animals.
One of the men was checking on the sheep, patting their backs to make them move aside as he wove his way back through the small but dense flock crowded together in a large pen.
“What is it, Henry?” Ester asked as she got closer. “What are you men doing down here at this time of night?”
The man couldn’t help staring for a brief moment at the strangers being carried in, one being helped on foot and a woman with a long fall of hair draped over a man’s shoulders. He lifted a hand out, gesturing to the neat grid of pens.
“The animals are restless.”
Richard looked back over a shoulder. The palm of his left hand rested on the familiar hilt of his sword as his gaze swept the fields between them and the dark mass of woods. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
“I think you had better leave the animals and get inside,” Richard said as he scanned the dark tree line.
The man frowned as he lifted his knit cap to scratch his thinning white hair. “And who might you be to tell me what to do with our animals?”
Richard looked back at the man and shrugged, but then, feeling his legs about to give out, he put his left arm back around the shoulder of one of the two men standing beside him. “I’m just someone who doesn’t like it when animals are restless, and I’ve seen a lot of frightening things this night not all that far behind us.”
“He’s right,” Ester said as she started out again toward the rock wall. “You’d best get up inside with the rest of us.”
Henry replaced his cap on his head as he cast a worried frown toward the silent wall of the woods hard against the far edge of the fields. The tall spruce looked like sentinels keeping the moonlight from entering.
Henry conceded with a nod. “I’ll bring the others up right behind you.”
CHAPTER
5
With the help of the men to either side, Richard followed behind Ester, who in turn followed behind the man carrying Kahlan. Out at the head of the small group making their way toward the cliff, a man with a lantern looked back from time to time, making sure everyone was still accounted for.
Kahlan, her long hair matted with blood, her arms dangling, hung limp and unconscious over the shoulder of the man carrying her. In the moonlight Richard could see the wounds from the thorny vines the Hedge Maid had used to bind and imprison her. From time to time blood from those and other wounds dripped from her fingertips.
Richard had the same kinds of cuts, but not as many as Kahlan. The thorn vines must have had a substance on them that kept wounds from closing up properly because his, too, still oozed blood. At least he had managed to kill the Hedge Maid before she could completely drain Kahlan of all her blood. Although seriously hurt, at least she was still alive.
As they had made their way through the forest on their way toward the village, he had ached to stop and heal her himself, but he knew that he was in no condition to be able to accomplish such a task. It took a variety of strengths on the part of the one doing the healing to be effective, strengths he didn’t have right then. It made more sense to get help for her.
Once he knew that Kahlan was safe, he needed to find out what had happened to the soldiers of the First File and the friends who had been with them. He refused to believe that those he cared so much about were already dead. He remembered all too vividly, though, the human bones he had seen. He was distressed that any of his people had died, but especially in such a horrific fashion.
As they approached the base of the cliff, the small group made their way through a sprawling boulder field of broken rock built up over time as rock cleaved from the cliff face to accumulate below. In some places those with Richard, making their way single-file among the boulders, had to duck under massive slabs of stone that had fallen from the face of the mountain and now rested atop the jumble of rock slabs.
Richard was surprised to see the people ahead of him start up a narrow path right up against the face of the rock wall. Set back in a tangle of scrub, it would have been easy to miss, had he not seen people ahead beginning to climb upward.
He had thought that maybe they had ladders going up to the inhabited caves, or even an interior passage, but it appeared that the only way up was along the path made up of natural crags and ledges of the rock face. Where there were no natural footholds, the rock looked to have been laboriously cut away to create a trail. In the weak yellow light of the lanterns carried by some of those ahead, he could see that the rock underfoot had been smoothed by people treading across it to ascend the cliff wall for what had to be thousands of years.
“What is this place?” Richard asked in a whisper.
Ester looked back over her shoulder. “Our village, Stroyza.”
Richard missed a step. He wondered if she knew what the name meant. Few people still alive understood High D’Haran. Richard was one of those who did.
“Why do you live up there? Why not build down among the fields and then you wouldn’t have to climb up and down this treacherous trail all the time?”
“It is where our people have always lived.” When that seemed not to be reason enough for him, she showed him a patient smile. “Don’t you think that it would also be treacherous for anyone who would come to attack us in the night?”
Richard glanced to the bobbing dots of lantern light out ahead as people carefully made their way ever upward. “I suppose you’re right. A single person up top could easily hold off an army trying to make their way up this trail.” His brow twitched. “Do you have a lot of trouble with people attacking your village?”
“This is the Dark Lands,” she said, as if that was explanation enough.
With the drizzle making the rock slick, Richard stepped carefully as they made their way up the narrow ledge of a path. The path wasn’t anywhere near wide enough for a man to walk on either side of him to help him walk, so one of the men instead followed close behind, ready to steady him if he faltered. Fortunately, there were iron handholds pinned into the face of the rock in particularly narrow spots.
Unfortunately, the handholds were on the left side, and his bandaged left arm was the one most severely injured. He was in so much pain that his fingers could barely grip the iron holds, so he sometimes had to cross his right hand over to grip the bars. It made it more difficult to climb, but kept him from falling. The man following close behind held on to the iron bars with one hand and from time to time used his other to help prop Richard up and to keep him from falling. Glancing downward in the faint moonlight revealed a dizzying drop.
When they finally reached the top, a small cluster of people waited to greet them. As Richard stepped onto the open area the crowd moved back to give the arriving party room. He could see that the naturally formed, broad cavity narrowed down in places into several cavelike, wide passageways going deeper back into the mountain. Concern masked the faces of the people watching the injured strangers being brought in.
Several cats emerged from the darkness to greet the returning people from the village. Richard spotted several more of the cautious creatures back in the passageways. Most of them were black.
“We’re thankful to see you all safely back,” one of the waiting men said. “With you out after dark for so long, we were worried.”
Ester was nodding. “I know. It couldn’t be helped. Fortunately, we found them.”
Before Ester could introduce him, Henrik spotted them from the shelter of the shadows and ran out to greet them.
“Lord Rahl! Lord Rahl! You’re alive!”
Whispered astonishment swept back through the small assemblage of villagers. Apparently, not everyone in the village had been informed who the party had gone out to rescue.
“Lord Rahl … leader of the D’Haran Empire?” one man asked as whispers continued to spread among those gathered.
Through his pain, Richard nodded. “That’s right.”
They all started going to a knee. Richard hurriedly waved away the show of deference. “None of that, please.”
As they all hesitantly returned to their feet, Richard managed a smile for the boy. “Henrik, I’m relieved to see that you are all right.”
The man holding Kahlan eased her limp form down off his shoulder. Several people rushed in to help.
Ester quickly introduced a few of the people gathered around, but then cut it short. “We need to get them inside. They are both badly hurt. We need to see to their injuries.”
The small crowd, shadowed by several cats, followed behind as Ester hurriedly led them back into one of the broader tunnels. There were a number of rooms built into natural clefts and crags along the way back into the cavern. Many of the rooms and network of tunnels had been excavated from the semisoft rock. The faces of some of the rooms had mortared stone walls filling in the gaps. Some places had wooden doors while others were covered with animal skins to create what looked to be a community of small homes.
The honeycomb of dwellings throughout the warren of burrows looked like a grim existence, but Richard supposed that the safety of the place high up within the mountain was comfort enough. The clothes worn by the people around him also spoke to the austere nature of existence in their small village. They all wore similar types of crudely made fabric that blended in with the color of the stone.
Ester snatched the sleeve of a woman ahead of her and leaned closer. “Get Sammie.”
The woman frowned back over her shoulder. “Sammie?”
Ester confirmed it with a firm nod. “These two need to be healed.”
“Sammie?” the woman repeated.
“Yes, hurry. There is no time to waste.”
“But—”
“Go,” Ester commanded with a flick of her hand. “Hurry. I will take them to my place.”
As the woman rushed off to get the help Ester had called for, the crowd all funneled into a smaller passageway. Finally arriving at a doorway covered over with a heavy hanging made of sheepskin, Ester and several of the people with them ducked inside. Once inside the small room one of the men hurried to light dozens of candles. In contrast to the simple wooden table, three chairs, and chest to the side, crude but colorful carpets covered the floor. Pillows made of unadorned material similar to the material their clothes were made from provided the only other seating.
Ester directed the men carrying Kahlan to the side of the room, where they gently laid her down on a lambskin backed with a row of plain, well-used pillows. The men with Richard helped ease him down to sit on the floor against several pillows.
“We need to tend to your wounds right away,” Ester told Richard. She turned to some of the women who had followed them in. “Get some warm water and rags. We will need a poultice made up. Bring bandages as well as needle and thread.”
As the small cluster of the women hurried back out of the modest quarters to do her bidding, Ester knelt beside Richard. With a gentle hand she carefully lifted his arm and loosened the tourniquet so she could look under the blood-soaked bandage.
“I don’t like the color of your arm,” she said. “These bite wounds must be washed out. Some of them need to be stitched up.” She glanced up at his eyes. “You also need more talented help.”
Richard knew that she meant he needed a gifted person to heal him. He nodded as he leaned to the side, carefully pulling strands of hair back from Kahlan’s face so that he could press the inside of his wrist against her forehead. She felt feverish.
“I can wait,” he said. “I want you to take care of the Mother Confessor first.”
When he looked back at Ester, apprehension tightened her features. She was clearly worried that he was the one who needed the immediate help.
Richard softened his tone. “I’m grateful for all you and your people have done, but please, I want you to help my wife first. You’re right that my bite wounds need to be tended to, but she’s unconscious and obviously in worse trouble. Maybe my wounds could be sewn and bandaged while your gifted person sees to helping the Mother Confessor first. Please, I’m worried about her condition. I need to know that she will be all right.”
Ester studied his eyes briefly and then smiled a bit. “I understand.” She turned and flicked a hand. “Peter, please go make sure that Sammie is on her way.”
