Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth 6)

“Well?” Commander Kardeef shrieked. He planted his fists on his hips. “Are you through with your games? It’s time these people learned the true meaning of ruthless!”

Nicci stared into the depths of his dark eyes. They were defiant, angry, and determined—yet they were nothing at all like Richard’s eyes.

Nicci turned to the soldiers.

She gestured. “You two. Seize the commander.”

The men blinked dumbly. Commander Kardeef’s face went red with rage. “That’s it! You’ve finally gone too far!” He wheeled to his men, a whole field of them—two thousand of them. He pointed a thumb back over his shoulder at Nicci. “Grab this lunatic witch!”

Half a dozen men nearest to her drew weapons as they rushed her. Like all Order field troops, they were big, strong, and quick. They were also experienced.

Nicci thrust a fist out in the direction of the closest as he lifted his whip to lash out and entangle her. With the speed of thought, both Additive Magic and Subtractive twined together in a lethal mix as she unleashed a focused bolt of power. It produced a burst of light so hot and so white that for an instant it made the sunlight seem dim and cold by comparison.

The blast blew a mellon-sized hole through the center of the soldier’s chest. For an instant, before the internal pressure forced his organs to fill the sudden void, she could see men behind through the gaping hole in his chest.

The afterimage of the flare lingered in her mind’s eye like lightning’s arc. The acrid smell of scorched air stung her eyes. The clap of her power’s thunder rumbled out across the surrounding green fields of wheat.

Before the soldier hit the ground, Nicci unleased her power on three more of the charging men, taking off one’s entire shoulder, the wallop whirling him around like a ghastly fountain, the dangling limb flinging off into the crowd. A third man was cut almost in two. She felt the concussion of the following bolt deep in her chest and, amid a blinding flash, the fourth man’s head came apart in a cloud of red mist and bony debris.

Her warning gaze met the eyes of two men with knives gripped in white-knuckled fists. They halted. Many more took a step back as the four reports, to her so separate yet so close atop one another that they almost merged into one ripping blast, still echoed off the buildings.

“Now,” she said in a quiet, calm, composed voice that by its very gentleness betrayed how deadly earnest was the threat, “if you men do not follow my orders, and seize Commander Kardeef, I will seize him myself. But, of course, not until after I’ve killed every last one of you.”

The only sound was the moan of wind between the buildings.

“Do as I say, or die. I will not wait.”

The big men, knowing her, made their decision in the instant they knew was all she would grant them, and leaped to seize the commander. He managed to draw his sword. Kadar Kardeef was no stranger to pitched battle. He screamed orders as he fought them off. More than one man fell dead in the melee. Others cried out as they took wounds. From behind, men finally caught the deadly sword arm. Additional men piled on the commander until they had him disarmed, down on the ground, and finally under control.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kadar Kardeef roared at her as the men pulled him to his feet.

Nicci closed the distance between them. The soldiers held his arms twisted behind his back. She stared into his wild eyes.

“Why, Commander, I am merely following your orders.”

“What are you talking about!”

She smiled without humor just because she knew it would further madden him.

One of the men glanced back over his shoulder. “What do you want done with him?”

“Don’t hurt him—I want him fully conscious. Strip him and bind him to the pole.”

“Pole? What pole?”

“The pole that held the pigs you men ate.”

Nicci snapped her fingers, and they began pulling off their commander’s clothes. She watched without emotion as he was finally stripped. His gear and prized weapons became plunder, quickly disappearing into the hands of men he had commanded. They grunted with effort as they fought to bind the struggling, naked, hairy commander to the pole at his back.

Nicci turned to the stunned crowd. “Commander Kardeef wishes you to know how ruthless we can be. I am going to carry out those orders, and demonstrate it for you.” She turned back to the soldiers. “Put him over the fire to roast like a pig.”

The soldiers bore the struggling, furious Kadar Kardeef, the hero of the Little Gap campaign, to the fire pit. They knew that Jagang watched them through her eyes. They had reason to be confident that the emperor would stop her if he wished to. After all, he was the dream walker, and they had seen him force her and the other Sisters to submit to his wishes countless times, no matter how degrading those wishes were.

They could not know that, for some reason, Jagang did not have access to her mind right then.

The wooden ends of the pole clattered into the sockets in the stone supports to each side of the fire pit. The pole sprang up and down with the weight of its load. The weight finally settled, leaving Kadar Kardeef to hang facedown. He had little choice but to watch the glowing coals beneath him.

Even though the fire had burned down, it wasn’t long before the heat of the wavering, low flames began causing him distress. As people watched in silent dismay, the commander twisted as he shrieked orders, demanding that his men take him down, promising them punishment if they delayed. His diatribe trailed off as he began gasping for control of his growing dread.

Watching the eyes of the town’s people, Nicci pointed behind her.

“This is how ruthless the Imperial Order is: they will slowly, painfully, burn to death a great commander, a war hero, a man known and revered far and wide, a man who has served them well, just to prove to you, the people of an insignificant little town, that they will not hesitate to kill anyone. Our goal is the good of all, and that goal is held more important than any mere man among us. This is the proof. Now, do you people, for any reason, still think that we would shrink from harming any or all of you if you don’t contribute to the common good?”

Nearly everyone shook their heads as they all mumbled, “No, Mistress.”

Behind her, Commander Kardeef writhed in pain. He again yelled at his men, commanding them to bring him down, and to kill “the crazy witch.” None of the soldiers moved to comply with his orders. To look at them, they didn’t even hear him. These men had no notion of compassion. There was only life, and death. They chose life; that choice required his death.

Nicci stood watching the eyes of the people as the minutes dragged on. The commander was up a good distance from the low flames, but there was a expansive bed of broiling hot coals. She knew that, from time to time, the gusty breeze diverted the fierce heat to give him a fleeting reprieve. It would only prolong his ordeal; the heat was inexorable. Still, it would take some time. She didn’t ask for more firewood. She was in no hurry.

People’s noses wrinkled; everyone could smell his body hair burning. No one dared speak. As the ordeal wore on, the skin across Kardeef’s chest and stomach reddened, and then darkened. It was a good fifteen minutes before it finally began to crack and split open. He shrieked in pain nearly the entire time. The smell turned to a surprisingly pleasant aroma of cooking meat.

In the end, he gave in to wailing for mercy. He called her name, begging her to bring it to an end, to either free him or to finish him quickly. As she listened to him sob her name, she stroked the gold ring through her lower lip, his voice little more to her than the buzzing of a fly.

The thin layer of fat that lay over his powerful muscles began melting. He grew hoarse. Fueled by the fat, flames flared up, scorching his face.

“Nicci!” Kardeef knew his pleas for mercy were falling on indifferent ears. He betrayed his true feelings. “You vicious bitch! You deserved everything I did to you!”

She casually confronted his wild gaze. “Yes, I did. Give my rega

rds to the Keeper, Kadar.”

“Tell him yourself! When Jagang finds out about this, he’ll tear you limb from limb! You’ll soon be in the underworld, in the Keeper’s hands!”

His words were once more but a trifling drone.

Sweat beaded on people’s foreheads as the spectacle dragged on. They needed no spoken orders to know she expected them to remain and watch the whole thing. Their own imaginations, should they consider disobeying her unspoken orders, would dream up punishments she never could. Only the boys were fascinated by the remarkable exhibition. Knowing looks passed among them; torture such as this was a treat to the minds of young immortals. Someday, they might make good Order troops—if they didn’t grow up.