Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth 6)

“What happened to the division waiting here?” she asked.

“We wiped them out,” the captain said with a cool rage of his own. “Once we realized what had happened, we knew it was our only chance.”

Kahlan gave him a nod. She knew full well what a mighty effort his simple words conveyed.

“They cut us to pieces from behind as we did so!” General Leiden’s temper was getting frayed around the edges. “We had no chance.”

“Apparently you did,” she answered. “You gained the valley.”

“What of it? We can’t fight a force their size. It was insane to throw men into that meat grinder. What for? We gained this valley, but at a terrible price. We won’t be able to hold a force that huge! They had their way with us from the first until the last. We didn’t stop them, they just got tired of hacking us to pieces for the night!”

Some men looked away. Some stared at the ground. Only the crackle of fires and the moans of the wounded filled the frigid night air.

Kahlan glanced around again. “What are you doing sitting here, now?”

Zedd’s brow went up, along with his own anger. “We’ve been at it for two days, Kahlan.”

“Fine. But I don’t allow the enemy to go to bed with victory. Is that clear?”

Captain Meiffert clapped a fist to his heart in salute. “Clear, Mother Confessor.”

He glanced over his shoulders. Fists of attentive men near and far likewise went to their hearts.

“Mother Confessor,” General Leiden said, dropping her title of queen, “the men have been up for two days, now.”

“I understand,” Kahlan said. “We have been riding without pause for three days, now. Neither changes what must be done.”

In the harsh reflection of firelight, the creases in General Leiden’s face looked like angry gashes. He pressed his lips together and bowed to his queen, but when he came up, he spoke again.

“My queen, Mother Confessor, you can’t seriously be expecting us to carry out a night attack. There’s no moon and clouds mostly hide the stars. In the dark such an attack would be a disaster. It’s lunacy!”

Kahlan finally withdrew her cold glare from the Keltish general and passed a gaze among those assembled around her. “Where is General Reibisch?”

Zedd swallowed. “I’m afraid that’s him.”

She looked where Zedd pointed, at the corpse he had fallen asleep atop while trying to heal. The rust-colored beard was matted with dried blood. The grayish-green eyes stared without seeing, no longer showing pain. It had been a fool’s task, Zedd knew, but he couldn’t help trying to heal what could not be healed, giving it everything he had left. It hadn’t been enough.

“Who is next in command,” Kahlan asked.

“That would be me, my queen,” General Leiden said as he took a stride forward. “But as the ranking officer, I can’t allow my men to—”

Kahlan lifted a hand. “That will be all, Lieutenant Leiden.”

He cleared his throat. “General Leiden, my queen.”

She fixed him with an implacable stare. “To question me once is a simple mistake, Lieutenant. Twice is treason. We execute traitors.”

Cara’s Agiel spun up into her fist. “Step aside, Lieutenant.”

Even in the haunting orange and green light of fires, Zedd could see the man’s face pale. He took a step back and wisely, if belatedly, fell silent.

“Who is next in command?” the Mother Confessor asked again.

“Kahlan,” Zedd said, “I’m afraid the Order used their gifted to single out men of rank. Despite our best efforts, I believe we lost all our senior officers. It cost them dearly, at least.”

“Then who is next in command?”

Captain Meiffert looked around and finally lifted his hand.

“I’m not positive, Mother Confessor, but I believe that would be me.”

“Very well, General Meiffert.”

He inclined his head. “Mother Confessor,” he said in a quiet, confidential voice, “that isn’t necessary.”

“No one said it was, General.”

The new general softly struck a fist to his heart. Zedd saw Cara smile in grim approval. Of the thousands of faces watching, that was the only smile. It wasn’t that the men disapproved, but rather that they were relieved to have someone so firmly in command. D’Harans respected iron authority. If they couldn’t have Lord Rahl, they would take his wife, and an iron one at that. They might not have smiled, but Zedd knew they would be pleased.

“As I said, I don’t allow the enemy to go to bed with victory.” Kahlan scanned the faces watching her. “I want a cavalry raid ready to go within the hour.”

“And who do you intend to send on such an attack, my queen?”

Everyone knew what the former General Leiden meant by the question. He was asking who she was sending to their death.

“There will be two wings. One to make their way unseen around the Order’s camp so as to come in from their south, where they will least expect it, and another wing to hold back until the first is in place, and then come in from this side, from the north. I intend to have us spill some of their blood before bed.”

She looked back to the new Lieutenant Leiden’s eyes and answered his question. “I will be leading the southern wing.”

Everyone, except the new general, began voicing objections. Leiden spoke up louder.

“My queen, why would you want us to get our men together for a calvary raid?” He

pointed to the wall of men, all on horses behind her: all Galeans—traditional adversaries of the Keltans, Leiden’s homeland. “When we have these?”

“These men will be helping get this army back together, relieving those on duty to get needed rest, helping dig defensive ditches, and filling in wherever they are needed. The men who were bloodied are the ones who need to go to bed with the sweet taste of vengeance. I would not dare to deny D’Harans that to which they are so entitled.”

A cheer went up.

Zedd thought that if war was madness, madness had just found its mistress.

General Meiffert took a step closer to her. “I’ll have my best men ready within the hour, Mother Confessor. Everyone will want to go; I’ll have to disappoint a lot of volunteers.”

Kahlan’s face softened when she nodded. “Pick your man for the northern wing, then, General.”

“I will be leading the northern wing, Mother Confessor.”

Kahlan smiled. “Very well.”

She ordered the Galean troops off to their duties. With a sweep of her finger, she dismissed everyone but the immediate group and called that inner circle closer.

“What about Richard’s admonition not to directly attack the Order?” Verna asked.

“I remember well what Richard said. I’m not going to directly attack their main force.”

Zedd supposed she did remember it well. She had been there with Richard—they hadn’t. Zedd brought up a touchy issue.

“The main force will be in the center, well protected. At their edges, where you attack, will be defenses, of course, but mostly the camp followers will be at the tail end of the Order’s camp—the fringe to the south, mostly.”

“I don’t really care,” she said with cold fury. “If they’re with the Order, then they are the enemy. There will be no mercy.” She was looking at her new general as she spoke her orders. “I don’t care if we kill their whores or their generals. I want every baker and cook dead as much as I want every officer and archer dead. Every camp follower we kill will deprive them of the comforts they enjoy. I want to strip them of everything, including their lives. Is that understood?”