Wizard's First Rule (Sword of Truth 1)

Richard could hear and feel rumbles from the ground, some followed by great belches of steam roaring from the vents. The awful suffocating smell of sulfur wafted up to where they hid in the stunted trees of the high ridge.

“Maybe we should go have a closer look,” he whispered, half to himself, as he watched the gars moving about below.

“That would be beyond foolhardy,” she whispered harshly. “It would be just plain stupid. One gar would be trouble enough, or have you forgotten so quickly. There must be dozens down there.”

“I guess,” he complained. “What’s that behind them, just above, on the side of the hill? A cave?”

Her eyes went to the dark maw. “Yes. It’s called the Shadrin’s Cave. Some say it goes all the way through the mountain, to the valley on the other side. But I don’t know of anyone who knows for sure, or who would want to find out.”

He watched the gars tearing an animal apart, fighting over it. “What’s a Shadrin?”

“The Shadrin is a beast that is supposed to live in the caves. Some say it’s just a myth, others swear it is real, but nobody wants to go find out for sure.”

He looked over at her as she watched the gars. “And what do you think?”

Kahlan shrugged. “I don’t know. There are many places in the Midlands where there are supposed to be beasts. I have been to many, and found no beasts. Most of these stories are just that, stories. But not all.”

Richard was glad she was talking. It was the most she had said in days. The odd behavior of the gars seemed to have overwhelmed her with curiosity, and brought her, for the moment, out of her withdrawal. But they couldn’t lie there talking; they were wasting time. Besides, if they stayed too long, the gars’ flies would find them. They both crawled backward, clear of the edge, then crept farther away, keeping their heads down and their movements quiet. Kahlan withdrew once again into silence.

Once away from the gars, they started down the road again, to Tamarang, the border land of the Wilds, the land ruled by Queen Milena. Before they had gone far, they came to a divide in the road. Richard assumed they would go to the right, as Kahlan had said that Tamarang lay to the east. The gars and Fire Spring had been off to their left. Kahlan went down the left road.

“What’re you doing?” He had had to watch her like a hawk since leaving Agaden Reach. He couldn’t trust her anymore. All she wanted to do was die, and he knew she would manage it if he didn’t watch her every move.

She looked back at him with the same blank expression she had worn for days. “This is called an inverted fork. Up ahead, where it’s hard to see because of the lay of the land and the heavy woods, the roads cross over each other and switch directions. Because of the thick trees, it’s hard to tell where the sun is, which direction you are going. If we take the right fork here, we will end up with the gars. This one, to the left, goes to Tamarang.”

He frowned. “Why would anyone go to the trouble to build a road like that?”

“It’s just one little way the old rulers of Tamarang used to help confuse invaders from the Wilds. Sometimes it slowed them down a little, gave the defenders time to retreat and regroup if they needed to, then to fall on the attackers again.”

He studied her face a moment, trying to judge if she was telling the truth. It infuriated him that he had to worry about whether Kahlan was telling him the truth.

“You’re the guide,” he said at last. “Lead on.”

At his word, she turned without comment and walked on. Richard didn’t know how much more of this he could take. She would only talk when it was required, wouldn’t listen when he tried to make conversation, and backed away whenever he got close. She acted as if his touch would be poison, but he knew it was really her touch she worried about. He had hoped that the way she was talking when they had spotted the gars signaled a change, but he was wrong. She had quickly reverted to her dark mood.

She had reduced herself to a prisoner on a forced march; had reduced him to a reluctant jailer. He kept her knife in his belt. He knew what would happen if he gave it back to her. With every step, she was drifting farther and farther from him. He knew he was losing her, but didn’t have the slightest idea what to do about it.

At night, when it was time for her watch, for him to sleep, he had to tie her hands and feet to prevent her from killing herself when he wasn’t watching. When he bound her, she endured it limply. He endured it with great pain. Even then, he had to sleep with one eye open. He slept by her feet so if she saw or heard something, she could wake him. He was dead tired from the strain.

He wished they had never gone to Shota. The idea that Zedd would turn on him was unthinkable; the idea that Kahlan would was unbearable.

Richard took out some food. He kept his voice cheerful, hoping to perk her up. “Here, have some of this dried fish?” He smiled. “It’s really awful.”

She didn’t laugh at his joke. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

Richard struggled to keep the smile on his face, struggled to keep his voice from betraying his anger. His head was pounding. “Kahlan, you’ve hardly eaten for days. You have to eat.”

“I said I don’t want any.”

“Come on, for me?” he coaxed.

“What are you going to do next? Hold me down and force it in my mouth?”

The calmness in her voice infuriated him, but he covered it as best he could with his tone, if not his words. “If I have to.”

She spun at him, her chest heaving. “Richard, please! Just let me go? I don’t want to be with you! Just let me go!” It was the first emotion she had shown since leaving Agaden Reach.

It was his turn to hide his emotions. “No.”

She glared at him with fire in her green eyes. “You can’t watch me every minute. Sooner or later…”

“Every minute… if I have to.”

They stood glaring angrily at each other; then the emotion on her face was gone, and she turned back to the road, walking on.

They had only stopped for a few minutes, but it had been enough for the thing that followed them to make another mistake, a rare one. It had let its guard down briefly, and let itself get too close—close enough for Richard to see its fierce yellow eyes again, if only for an instant.

He had been aware that they were being followed since the second day out of the Reach. Years spent alone in the woods made him aware when he was being followed, tracked. It was a game he and the other guides had played sometimes in the Hartland Woods, seeing how far they could follow each other without being detected. Whatever followed now was good at the game. But not as good as Richard. Three times now, he had seen the yellow eyes, when no one else would have.

He knew it wasn’t Samuel; the yellow was different, darker, and the eyes were closer together—and it was smarter. It couldn’t be a heart hound; they would have been attacked long before now. Whatever it was, it only watched.

Richard was sure Kahlan hadn’t seen it; she was too far

lost in her own dark thoughts. Sooner or later, the thing would make itself known, and Richard would be ready. But with Kahlan the way she was right now, he had his hands full, and he didn’t need more trouble.

So he didn’t turn and look, to show it that he suspected, didn’t backtrack, and didn’t snap a circle, as he and the other guides had called the maneuver, but rather, he let his eyes catch the glimpses when they did, without forcing a glance. He was reasonably sure the thing that followed didn’t know he was aware of it. For now, that’s the way he wanted to keep it. It left the advantage with him.

He watched Kahlan as she walked with her shoulders slumped, and wondered what he was going to do in a few days, when they reached Tamarang. Whether he liked it or not, she was winning this slow battle, simply because things couldn’t go on like this. She could fail time and again; she had only to succeed once. He had to win every time. To slip just once would let her end her life. In the end, he knew, he couldn’t win, knew he was going to lose, and could think of nothing to change that.

Rachel sat on the short footstool in front of the tall chair that was covered with red velvet and buttons and gold carving, waiting, knocking her knees together. Hurry, Giller, she kept saying to herself, hurry, before the Princess comes. She looked up at the Queen’s box. She hoped that when Princess Violet came to try on jewelry, she didn’t touch the box again. Rachel hated it when she did that; it scared her.

The door opened a little. Giller poked his head in.

“Hurry, Giller,” she whispered loudly.

The rest of him came in. He stuck his head back out, looking up and down the hall, then he shut the door. He looked down at her.

“Did you get the bread?”

She nodded. “I got it here.” She pulled the bundle out from under the chair and set it on the footstool. “I took a towel and wrapped it around the bread so no one would see.”

“Good girl.” He smiled as he turned around, away from her.

She smiled up at him, then frowned. “I had to steal it. I never stole anything before.”

“I assure you, Rachel, it’s for a good cause.” He was looking at the box.