“I cut and stripped some stout saplings and used some canvas to make a litter.” He came closer and with a knuckle nudged Kahlan’s chin, as if to playfully buck up her courage. “From now on we’ll just let you stay on the litter, and then we can move you in and out of the carriage without…” He had that look in his eyes—that look that hurt her to see. He showed her a smile. “It will make it easier on Cara and me.”
Kahlan tried to face the thought with composure. “We’re ready then?”
His gaze dropped as he nodded.
“Good,” Kahlan said, cheerfully. “I’m in the mood for a nice ride. I’d like to see some of the countryside.”
He smiled, more convincingly this time, she thought. “You shall have it. And we’ll end up at a beautiful place. It’s going to take a while to get there, traveling as slow as we must, but it will be worth the journey, you’ll see.”
Kahlan tried to keep her breathing even. She said his name over and over in her head, telling herself that she would not forget it this time, that she would not forget her own name. She hated forgetting things; it made her feel a fool to learn things she should have remembered but had forgotten. She was going to remember this time.
“Well, do I have to get up and walk? Or are you going to be a gentleman and carry me?”
He bent and kissed her forehead—the one part on her face that the soft touch of his lips would not hurt. He glanced at Cara and tilted his head to signal her to get Kahlan’s legs.
“Will those men be drinking a long time?” Kahlan asked.
“It’s still midday. Don’t worry, we’ll be long gone before they ever get back here.”
“I’m sorry, Richard. I know you thought these people from your homeland—”
“They’re people, just like everyone else.”
She nodded as she fondly stroked the back of his big hand. “Cara gave me some of your herbs. I’ll sleep for a long time, so don’t go slow on my account—I won’t feel it. I don’t want you to have to fight all those men.”
“I won’t be doing any fighting—just traveling my forests.”
“That’s good.” Kahlan felt daggers twist in her ribs as her breathing started getting too fast. “I love you, you know. In case I forgot to say it, I love you.”
Despite the pain in his gray eyes, he smiled. “I love you, too. Just try to relax. Cara and I will be as gentle as we can. We’ll go easy. There’s no rush. Don’t try to help us. Just relax. You’re getting better, so it won’t be so hard.”
She had been hurt before and knew that it was always better to move yourself because you knew exactly how to do it. But she couldn’t move herself this time. She had come to know that the worst thing when you were hurt was to have someone else move you.
As he leaned over, she slipped her right arm around his neck while he carefully slid his left arm under her shoulders. Being lifted even that much ignited a shock of pain. Kahlan tried to ignore the burning stitch and attempted to relax as she said his name over and over in her mind.
She suddenly remembered something important. It was her last chance to remind him.
“Richard,” she whispered urgently just before he pushed his right arm under her bottom to lift her. “Please…remember to be careful not to hurt the baby.”
She was startled to see her words stagger him. It took a moment before his eyes turned up to look into hers. What she saw there nearly stopped her heart.
“Kahlan…you remember, don’t you?”
“Remember?”
His eyes glistened. “That you lost the baby. When you were attacked.”
The memory slammed into her like a fist, nearly taking her breath.
“…Oh…”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. I forgot for a moment. I just wasn’t thinking. I remember, now. I remember you told me about it.”
And she did. Their child, their child that had only begun to grow in her, was long since dead and gone. Those beasts who had attacked her had taken that from her, too.
The world seemed to turn gray and lifeless.
“I’m so sorry, Kahlan,” he whispered.
She caressed his hair. “No, Richard. I should have remembered. I’m sorry I forgot. I didn’t mean to…”
He nodded.
She felt a warm tear drop onto the hollow of her throat, close to her necklace. The necklace, with its small dark stone, had been a wedding gift from Shota, the witch woman. The gift was a proposal of truce. Shota said it would allow them to be together and share their love, as they had always wanted, without Kahlan getting pregnant. Richard and Kahlan had decided that, for the time being, they would reluctantly accept Shota’s gift, her truce. They already had worries enough on their hands.
But for a time, when the chimes had been loose in the world, the magic of the necklace, unbeknownst to Richard and Kahlan, had failed. One small but miraculous balance to the horrors the chimes had brought had been that it had given their love the opportunity to bring a child to life.
Now that life was gone.
“Please, Richard, let’s go.”
He nodded again.
“Dear spirits,” he whispered to himself so softly she could hardly hear him, “forgive me for what I am about to do.”
She clutched his neck. She now longed for what was coming—she wanted to forget.
He lifted her as gently as he could. It felt like wild stallions tied to each limb all leaped into a gallop at the same instant. Pain ripped up from the core of her, the shock of it making her eyes go wide as she sucked in a breath. And then she screamed.
The blackness hit her like a dungeon door slamming shut.
Chapter 4
A sound woke her as suddenly as a slap. Kahlan lay on her back, still as death, her eyes wide, listening. It wasn’t so much that the sound had been loud, but that it had been something disturbingly familiar. Something dangerous.
Her whole body throbbed with pain, but she was more awake than she had been in what seemed like weeks. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep, or perhaps unconscious. She was awake enough to remember that it would be a grave mistake to try to sit up, because just about the only part of her not injured was her right arm. One of the big chestnut geldings snorted nervously and stamped a hoof, jostling the carriage enough to remind Kahlan of her broken ribs.
The sticky air smelled of approaching rain, though fits of wind still bore dust to her nostrils. Dark masses of leaves overhead swung fretfully to and fro, their creaking branches giving voice to their torment. Deep purple and violet clouds scudded past in silence. Beyond the trees and clouds, the field of blue-black sky held a lone star, high over her forehead. She wasn’t sure if it was dawn or dusk, but it felt like the death of day.
As the gusts beat strands of her filthy hair across her face, Kahlan listened as hard as she could for the sound that didn’t belong, still hoping to fit it into a picture of something innocent. Since she’d heard it only from the deepness of sleep, its conscious identity remained frustratingly out of her reach.
She listened, too, for sounds of Richard and Cara, but heard nothing. Surely, they would be close. They would not leave
her alone—not for any reason this side of death. She recoiled from the image. She ached to call out for Richard and prove the uninvited thought a foolish fear, but instinct screamed at her to stay silent. She needed no reminder not to move.
A metallic clang came from the distance, then a cry. Maybe it was an animal, she told herself. Ravens sometimes let out the most awful cries. Their shrill wails could sound so human it was eerie. But as far as she knew, ravens didn’t make metallic sounds.
The carriage suddenly lurched to the right. Her breath caught as the unanticipated movement caused a stitch of pain in the back of her ribs. Someone had put weight on the step. By the careless disregard for the carriage’s injured passenger, she knew it wasn’t Richard or Cara. But if it wasn’t Richard, then who? Gooseflesh tickled the nape of her neck. If it wasn’t Richard, where was he?
Stubby fingers grasped the top of the corded chafing strip on the carriage’s side rail. The blunt fingertips were rounded back over grubby, gnawed-down little half-button fingernails. Kahlan held her breath, hoping he didn’t realize she was in the carriage.
A face popped up. Cunning dark eyes squinted at her. The man’s four middle upper teeth were missing, leaving his eyeteeth looking like fangs when he grinned.
“Well, well. If it ain’t the wife of the late Richard Cypher.”
Kahlan lay frozen. This was just like her dreams. For an instant, she couldn’t decide if it was only that, just a dream, or real.
His shirt bore a dark patina of dirt, as if it was never removed for anything. Sparse, wiry hairs on his fleshy cheeks and chin were like early weeds in the plowed field of his pockmarked face. His upper lip was wet from his runny nose. He had no lower teeth in front. The tip of his tongue rested partway out between the yawning gap of his smirk.
He brought up a knife for her to see. He turned it this way and that, almost as if he were showing off a prized possession to a shy girl he was courting. His eyes kept flicking back and forth between the knife and Kahlan. The slipshod job of sharpening appeared to have been done on rough granite, rather than on a proper whetstone. Dark blotches and rust stained the poorly kept cheap steel. But the scratched and chipped edge was no less deadly for any of it. His wicked, toothless grin widened with pleasure as her gaze followed the blade, watching it carve careful slices of the air between them.