Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth 6)

General Meiffert gave his nod. “No mercy. You’ll get no argument from us, Mother Confessor; that is the D’Haran code of warfare.”

Zedd knew that, in war, Kahlan’s way was usually the only way to prevail. The enemy would grant no mercy, and would need none themselves had they not invaded. Every whore and hawker chose to be a part of that invasion, to make what they could off the blood and plunder spilled at the Order’s feet.

Verna spoke up. “Mother Confessor, Ann was going to see you and Richard. We last heard from her over a month ago. Have you seen her?”

“Yes.”

Verna licked her lips in caution at the steely look in Kahlan’s eyes. “Was she all right?”

“The last I saw her, she was.”

“Would you know why she hasn’t sent any word to us?”

“I threw her journey book in the fire.”

Verna stepped forward, making to snatch Kahlan by the shoulder. Cara’s Agiel came up like lightning, barring her way.

“No one touches the Mother Confessor.” Cara’s cold blue eyes were as deadly as her words. “Is that clear? No one.”

“You have one Mord-Sith and one Mother Confessor, here, both in very bad moods,” Kahlan said in a level voice. “I would suggest you not give us an excuse to lose our temper, or we may never find it again in your lifetime.”

Zedd’s fingers found Verna’s arm and gently urged her back.

“We’re all tired,” he said. “We have enough troubles with the Order.” He shot Kahlan a scowl. “No matter how tired or distraught we are, though, let’s remember we’re all on the same side here.”

Kahlan’s eyes told him she challenged that statement, but she said nothing.

Verna changed the subject. “I will get together some of the gifted to escort you on the raid.”

“Thank you, but we will be taking no gifted.”

“But you will at least need them to help you find your way in the dark.”

“We will have the enemy campfires to show us our way.”

“Kahlan,” Zedd said, hoping to interject some reason, “the Order will have gifted—including Sisters of the Dark. You will need protection from them.”

“No. I don’t want any gifted with us. They are expecting any attack to be accompanied by our gifted. Their gifted will be watching for shields of magic. Any riders they do see without detecting magic they will be more likely to discount. We’ll be able to get in deeper and draw more blood without gifted along.”

Verna sighed at such foolishness, but didn’t argue. General Meiffert liked her plan. Zedd knew she was right about getting in deeper, but he knew, too, that getting back out would be more difficult, once the enemy was on to them.

“Zedd, I would like one bit of magic.”

He scratched his brow in resignation. “What would you like me to do?”

Kahlan gestured at the ground. “Make that dust glow. I want it to show up in the dark, and I want it sticky.”

“For how long?”

She shrugged. “The rest of the night would be enough.”

After Zedd had spun a web over the dusty patch of ground, giving it a green glow, Kahlan bent and rubbed her hand in it. She walked around back of her horse and slapped the hand on each flank, leaving a glowing green handprint on each hindquarter.

“What are you doing?” Zedd asked.

“It’s dark. I want them to be able to see me. They can’t come after me if they can’t find me in the dark.”

Zedd sighed at the madness.

General Meiffert squatted and rubbed his hand in the glowing dust. “I’d also hate for them to miss me in the dark.”

“Be sure to wash your hand clean before we go,” she said.

After she had explained her plan to the new general, Kahlan, Cara, and General Meiffert started off to their tasks.

Before they could get far, Zedd halted Kahlan with a softly spoken question.

“Kahlan, do you have any idea how we can get Richard back?”

She gazed boldly into his eyes. “Yes. I have a plan.”

“Would you mind sharing it with me?”

“It’s simple. I plan on killing every Imperial Order man, woman, and child until I get to the very last one left alive, and then if she doesn’t give him back, I’m going to kill her, too.”

Chapter 32

Kahlan focused past the black void to the glowing points of the fires as she leaned forward over the withers of her galloping horse, urging him onward, faster and faster. The muscles in her thighs strained as she pressed her weight against the stirrups and squeezed her legs against the feverish warmth of the massive body rhythmically, incessantly, frantically flexing and stretching, feeling its every pounding strike against the ground. Her ears were filled with the hammering of her own heart and the thunder of yet more hooves behind her. She was distantly aware of the weight of the Sword of Truth sheathed in its scabbard, an ever-present reminder of Richard.

She gripped the reins in one fist. With her other, she lifted her royal Galean sword high. The lights were coming. Unexpectedly, the first came out of nowhere and exploded into her vision.

Racing past what looked to be the light of a single candle, she was there, at last. Crying out with the sudden power of emotions that could no longer be stifled, she slammed her sword down against the dark shape of a man. The impact of the blade against bone jarred her wrist. The hilt stung against her palm.

On their way by, the men behind her unleashed their fury against the remaining sentries at the outpost. Kahlan held tight, knowing the greater unleashing of her need was yet to come. She would not be denied, now.

The fires of the outer fringes of the camp flew toward her. Her muscles were rigid with expectation. She felt at the brink of control. And then she was upon them. At last, she was there. She met them with all her strength. Her blade came down again and again, lashing against their bodies, slashing anyone within her reach. The outer fires shot past the sides of her horse with dizzying speed. She gasped for breath.

Laying the reins over, Kahlan pulled her big warhorse around in a tight circle. He was not as agile as she would have preferred, but he was well trained and for this job he would do. He bellowed with the excitement of battle begun.