Blood of the Fold (Sword of Truth 3)

She could see the softly glowing spell around it now. She had never seen one quite like it, and how he had managed to set it when she thought she had his power blocked, she couldn’t fathom. Nathan didn’t understand it either, but he seemed quite interested. She knew of no way to open the book without being killed.

Ann squatted down beside the bedroll. “Wizard Zorander, I know you have good reason to rail against me, but this is a matter of life and death. I must get a message through. The lives of Sisters are at stake. Wizard Zorander, please. Sisters could die. I know you are a good man, and wouldn’t want that.”

He brought a finger out from under the blanket and pointed it at her. “You bonded me into slavery. You have brought this upon yourself and your Sisters. I told you, you broke the truce, and have sentenced your Sisters to death. You are endangering the lives of ones I love. They could die because you wouldn’t let me help them. You took me from protecting the things of magic in the Keep. You are endangering the lives of my people in the Midlands. They could all die because of what you have done to me.”

“Can’t you understand that all our lives are tied together? This is a war against the Imperial Order, not between us. I have no wish to harm you, only to have you help me.”

He grunted. “Don’t forget what I told you: either you or Nathan had better remain awake at all times. If I catch you asleep, and Nathan isn’t awake to protect you, you will never wake again. Fair warning, though you don’t deserve it.”

He rolled over and pulled the blanket up.

Dear Creator, was this happening the way the prophecy intended, or had everything gone terribly wrong? Ann moved around the fire to Nathan.

“Nathan, do you think you could talk some sense into him?”

Nathan glanced down at her. “I told you that this part of the plan is the true madness. Collaring a young man is one thing, collaring a wizard of the First Order is quite another. This is your plan, not mine.”

She clenched her teeth as she snatched his shirt. “Verna could be killed in that collar. If she is killed, our Sisters could die, too.”

He took a spoonful of beans. “I’ve been warning you against this plan from the beginning. You were nearly killed at the Keep, but this part of the prophecy is even more dangerous. I’ve talked to him; he’s telling you the truth. As far as he is concerned, you are placing his friends in mortal danger. If he can, he will kill you in order to escape and go help them. No doubt in my mind.”

“Nathan, after all the years we’ve been together, how could you be so callous about this?”

“You mean, after all these years of captivity, how can I still rebel against it?”

Ann turned her face away as a tear ran down her cheek. She swallowed back the lump in her throat.

“Nathan,” she whispered, “in all the time you’ve known me, have you ever once seen me do anything cruel to someone other than because I had to, to protect lives? Have you ever once known me to struggle other than to preserve life and freedom?”

“I presume you mean other than my freedom.”

She cleared her throat. “And I know I will have to answer to the Creator for that, but I do it because I must, and because I care for you, Nathan. I know what would happen to you out in the world. You would be hunted down and killed by people who don’t understand you.”

Nathan tossed his bowl atop the others. “You want first watch or second?”

She turned back to him. “If you want your freedom so badly, what’s keeping you from falling asleep on your watch, so I will be killed?”

His piercing blue eyes took on an acrimonious set. “I want this collar off. The one thing I will not do is kill you to accomplish the task. If I were willing to pay that price, you would be dead a thousand times over, and you know it.”

“I’m sorry, Nathan. I know you’re a good man, and I’m fully aware of the vital part you’ve played in helping me preserve life. Forcing you to help me makes my heart ache.”

“Forcing me?” He laughed. “Ann, you’re more fun than any woman I’ve ever met. Most of it I wouldn’t have missed for anything. What other woman would buy me a sword? Or give me need to use it?

“That foolhardy prophecy says you have to bring him angry, and you’re doing a splendid job of it. I fear it might even work. I’ll take first watch. Don’t forget to check your bedroll. No telling what he might have enticed in there this time. I still haven’t figured out the snow fleas.”

“Me neither. I’m still itching.” She absently scratched her neck. “We’re almost home. At the rate we’re running, it won’t be long.”

“Home,” he mocked. “And then you kill us.”

“Dear Creator,” she whispered to herself, “what choice have I?”

Richard leaned back in his chair and yawned. He was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open. When he stretched and yawned, it caused Berdine, sitting next to him, to do the same. Across the room at the door, Raina was infected by their yawns.

A knock came and Richard shot to his feet. “Come!”

Egan stuck his head in. “A messenger is here.”

Richard motioned, and Egan’s head disappeared. A D’Haran soldier in a heavy cape and smelling of a horse hurried in and saluted with a fist to his heart.

“Sit down. You look like you’ve had a hard ride,” Richard said.

The soldier straightened his battle-axe at his hip as he glanced to the chair. “I’m fine, Lord Rahl. But I’m afraid I’ve nothing to report.”

Richard sank down in his chair. “I see. No sign? Nothing?”

“No, Lord Rahl. General Reibisch said to tell you they’re making good time, and are scouring every inch, and wanted me to assure you that our men have missed nothing, but so far they’ve found no sign.”

Richard signed in disappointment. “All right. Thank you. You’d best go get something to eat.”

The man saluted and took his leave. Every day for two weeks, starting a week after the force had departed in search of Kahlan, messengers had been returning to give Richard a report. Since the force had started splitting up to cover different routes, each group was sending its own messenger. This was the fifth of the day.

Hearing the reports of what had happened weeks ago, when the messengers had left their troops, was like watching history happen. Everything he heard unfolding had happened in the past. For all Richard knew, they could have found Kahlan a week ago and were on their way back while he was still hearing reports of failure. He kept that constant hope foremost in his mind.

He had filled the time and kept his mind from wandering into worried thoughts by working on translating the journal. It gave him much the same feeling as getting the reports every day, like watching history happen. Richard was rapidly coming to understand more of the argot form of High D’Haran than Berdine.

Because he knew the story of The Adventures of Bonnie Day, they had been working

on that the most, making long lists of words as they discovered their meanings, giving them something to refer to when they worked on the journal. As he learned words, Richard was able to read more of the book, piecing together the exact wording, enabling him to fill in more of the blanks in his memory, and thus learn yet more words.

It was often easier for him, now, to simply use what he had learned to translate from the journal than to show Berdine and have her do it. He was beginning to see High D’Haran in his sleep, and speak it when awake.

The wizard who wrote the journal never named himself; it was not an official record, but a private journal, so he had no need to call himself by name. Berdine and Richard had taken to calling him Kolo, short for koloblicin, a High D’Haran word meaning “strong advisor.”

As Richard was able to understand more and more of the journal, a frightening picture was beginning to emerge. Kolo had written his journal during the ancient war that had spawned the creation of the Towers of Perdition in the Valley of the Lost. Sister Verna had once told him that the towers had stood guard over that valley for three thousand years, and had been placed to halt a great war. After learning how desperate these wizards had been to activate the towers, Richard was beginning to feel more and more troubled about having destroyed them.

Kolo had mentioned in one place that his journals had been with him since he was a boy, and he filled about one a year, so this one, number forty-seven, must have been written when he was somewhere in his early to mid-fifties. Richard intended to go to the Keep and search for Kolo’s other journals, but this one still had many secrets to reveal.

Apparently Kolo was a trusted advisor to the others in the Keep. Most of the other wizards had both sides of the gift, Additive and Subtractive, but a few had only Additive. Kolo felt great sorrow for, and was protective of, those born with only that one side of the gift. These “unfortunate wizards” were said to be viewed by many as next to helpless, but Kolo thought that they could contribute in their own unique way and petitioned on their behalf for full status in the Keep.