Temple of the Winds (Sword of Truth 4)

“I am healed,” she whispered. “Lord Rahl healed me.”

“Yes! Cara, please, Richard is dying. I have the book, but I need the things he keeps in his belt.”

Cara abruptly sat up, pulling the red leather across her chest. She buttoned two of the buttons to hold it closed.

“His belt. Yes. You stay with Lord Rahl. I will get it.”

“Hurry!”

Cara stood, swaying for a moment as she steadied herself, and then she dashed from the room. Kahlan hugged the inky black book to herself. She bent over Richard. He was hardly breathing. She knew that any one of those breaths could be his last. He had given them, Cara and Kahlan, the rest of his strength.

“Dear spirits, help him. Give him just a little more time. Please. He has suffered so much. Please just give him a little time, until I can destroy this vile book.”

Kahlan bent over him and kissed his lips. “Hold on, Richard. Hold on for me, please. If you can hear me, we have the book. I know how to destroy it. Please, just hold on.”

Kahlan knelt down on a clear spot closer to the door and laid open the book to the third page so she would be ready when Cara returned.

She gazed into a vision of a wasteland. There was sand, blown into dunes, stretching into the distance of the phantasm emanating from the book. Kahlan stared into that barren place, and saw runes on the sand—lines drawn in geometric patterns.

Her sight was drawn into the pattern of lines that swirled and twisted around. There, in the runes, was light. It flared forth, every color, shining out toward her, calling to her.

“Mother Confessor!” Cara yelled, shaking Kahlan’s shoulders. “Didn’t you hear me? I have Lord Rahl’s belt.”

Kahlan blinked, shaking her head, trying to clear her mind. She snatched the belt and undid the bone holder on the flap of the pack where Richard kept the sorcerer’s sand. Inside, she found the leather pouch of white sand.

With Cara standing behind her, touching her shoulder, Kahlan cast a pinch of the white sand into the book.

The color boiled and twisted, tumbled and turned. Kahlan pulled her eyes away and stabbed her hand back into the pack, pulling out the other leather pouch, the one with the black sorcerer’s sand. With two fingers, she carefully pulled the top open. Inside, she could see the inky black sand.

Troubled, Kahlan paused. There was something else, something tickling at the back of her mind.

The words. Nathan said to say the words, the three chimes, before using the black sand. Three words. What were they?

She couldn’t remember them. Her mind raced after them, but they kept going around dark corners, and when she turned, they were gone again. Her thoughts mired in staggering fright. She ached in desperate thought, but the words wouldn’t come to her.

Richard had them written in the palm of his hand. Kahlan turned, to go to read them from his palm, and froze.

Drefan, leaning up against the well of the sliph where he had fallen, somehow still hanging to a thread of life, was holding up the sword. Richard was lying right there, on the floor, within reach. Drefan was going to kill him.

“No!” Kahlan screamed.

But the sword was already sweeping down. Faint, maniacal laughter drifted on the air.

Kahlan threw her fist up, calling the blue lightning to protect Richard. It didn’t come. She was blocked from her power.

Cara was already diving toward Drefan, but she was too far away. She wasn’t going to make it. The sword was halfway there.

A silver arm swept down and seized Drefan’s arm, holding it tight. Kahlan held her breath.

Another liquid silver arm enveloped Drefan’s head. “Breathe,” the sliph cooed, a voice promising the sating of bestial lust, a voice promising rapture. “I wish you to please me. Breathe.”

Drefan’s chest rose as he inhaled the sliph.

He went still, holding the sliph in his lungs. The sliph freed him, and he slumped to the side. His breath left him, releasing the sliph he had inhaled.

It drained from his mouth and nose, not silver, but red.

Kahlan felt something inside her part, a profound unraveling, and all at once, she joined with her power, a sweet reclaiming that brought a gasp of euphoric, inner union.

Drefan was dead. As long as they both live. Those were the words.

Her oath was ended. The winds had returned her power.

Kahlan was brought out of her daze when she heard Richard gasp for a breath. With renewed panic, she scrambled across the floor and scooped up his right hand, where Richard had written the message. She pried open his fingers.

The words were gone. The act of stopping Drefan, and his blood, had scoured away the writing.

Kahlan screamed in frustrated rage. She scrambled back to the open book. She couldn’t remember the words. Her mind ached with frustration; she couldn’t make the words come.

What was she going to do?

Maybe if she just threw in the grain of black sand anyway.

No, she knew better than to disregard what a wizard like Nathan said to do.

She squeezed her head between the heels of her hands, as if trying to press the words out. Cara knelt down, grasping her by her shoulders.

“Mother Confessor, what’s wrong? You must hurry. Lord Rahl is hardly breathing. Hurry!”

Tears ran down her face. “I can’t remember the words. Oh, Cara, I can’t remember them. Nathan told me, but I can’t remember them.”

Kahlan clambered back across the floor to Richard. She smoothed a hand down his face.

“Richard, please, wake up. I need to know the words. Please, Richard, what are the words? The three words?”

He struggled to draw a breath, gasping with the effort. He wasn’t going to wake. He wasn’t going to live.

Kahlan rushed back to the book. She snatched up the leather pouch of black sand. She would have to do it without the words. Maybe it would work. It would work. It had to work.

She couldn’t make her hands move. She knew better. It wouldn’t work unless she said the words. She knew it wouldn’t. She had grown up around wizards and magic; she knew better than to disregard what Nathan had told her. Without the words, it wouldn’t work.

She fell forward with a wail, beating her fists against the stone floor. “I can’t remember the words! I can’t!”

Cara put an arm around Kahlan, making her sit up, holding her in a gentle embrace. “Calm down. Take a breath. Good. Let it go. Take another. Now, picture in your mind this man Nathan. Picture him telling you the words, and how happy you were that you could save Richard’s life.”

Kahlan tried. She tried so hard she wanted to scream.

“I can’t remember them,” she wept. “Richard’s going to die because I can’t remember three stupid words. I can’t remember the three chimes.”

“The three chimes?”

Cara asked. “You mean, Reechani, Sentrosi, Vasi? Those three chimes?”

Kahlan stared in disbelief. “That’s them. The three chimes. Reechani, Sentrosi, Vasi.

“Reechani! Sentrosi! Vasi! I remember! Thank you, Cara, I remember!”

Kahlan pulled out a grain of black sorcerer’s sand between her thumb and finger.

“Reechani, Sentrosi, Vasi.” she said again, for good measure.

She tossed the grain of black sand into the book.

She and Cara both held their breath.

A hum slowly built in the room. The air seemed to dance and vibrate. Light of every color flared forth, twisting and tumbling, pulsing and throbbing. It grew with the hum, until Kahlan had to turn her eyes away.

Rays of light swept across the stone walls. Cara put a hand up before her face. Kahlan did the same, so bright was the light that just turning away was not enough.

And then darkness began gathering, like the inky black of a night stone, or of the book’s cover itself, pulling the light and color back into the book. It drew all the light from the room, until all fell into darkness.

In that depth of sightless obscurity, there came such terrible moans that Kahlan was thankful she couldn’t see their source. The wails of souls filled the room, scattering about in a blind, mad frenzy, swirling through the air, lost, frantic, wild.

The sound of distant laughter that Kahlan knew all too well died into a wail that stretched into eternity.

When the light of the candles returned, the book was gone, only a stain of ash to show where it had been.

Kahlan and Cara rushed to Richard. He opened his eyes. He still didn’t look well, but he looked more alert. His breathing was stronger, and even.

“What happened?” He asked. “I can breathe. My head isn’t pounding.”

“The Mother Confessor saved you,” Cara announced. “As I have told you so often, women are stronger than men.”

“Cara,” Kahlan whispered, “how did you know the three chimes?”

Cara shrugged. “The Legate Rishi knew the words, with the message from the winds. When you said ‘the three chimes,’ they just came to me, through his magic, as the other messages from the Winds came to me.”