Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth 6)

“Sounds so.”

“Prince Harold will be here to help just as soon as he can gather his army from their defensive positions.”

Zedd only nodded.

She cleared her throat. “I wish we could have gotten here sooner.”

Zedd shrugged. “You came as fast as possible. You’re here, now.”

Kahlan turned away to the bedroll. She sank down to her knees and bent to the work of undoing the leather thongs holding the bedding all rolled up together. For some reason, the knots looked blurry—she guessed it was because she was so tired.

She glanced over her shoulder briefly in the dim lamplight and then went back to picking at the knot. “I suppose you’d like to know how that Sister of the Dark managed to capture Richard.”

He was silent for a moment. His voice finally came, soft and gentle. “There’s time enough for that later, Kahlan. There’s no need tonight.”

As she picked at the stubborn knot, her hair fell forward over her shoulder. She had to push it back in order to see what she was doing. The stupid leather thong was tightly knotted. She wanted to yell at the person who had tied it, but she had done it up herself and had no one else to blame.

“She used a maternity spell on me. It links us. She said she could—she could kill me if Richard didn’t do as she said and go with her.”

At the news, Zedd only let out a desolate sigh.

“Richard can’t kill her, or I die, too.”

She waited for his voice behind her. It finally came.

“I’ve only read about such spells, but from what I know, it sounds as if she told you the truth of it.”

“I have a cut on my mouth. I didn’t do it. It happened to me the other day—through that link. What happens to her happens to me. I hope Richard struck her. It was worth it.”

“I don’t think Richard would do that.”

She knew he wouldn’t. It was only a wish.

One of the little lamps was flickering, making shadows waver. The other was hissing softly. Kahlan wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Richard gave up his freedom to keep me alive. I wish I could die, to free him, but he made me promise I wouldn’t do that.”

Kahlan felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. Zedd said nothing. It was the greatest kindness he could have given her at that moment—not burying her heart under an avalanche of questions.

Enjoying the calming effect of his hand, Kahlan finally managed to get the knot undone. Zedd sat back in his chair as she unfurled her bedding. The carving of Spirit was rolled up inside, for safekeeping. Its height was just right to fit crosswise in her bedroll. Kahlan lifted it out and held it to her heart a moment. She turned, then, and set Spirit on the little table.

Zedd slowly rose to his feet. He was a collection of bony angles under his maroon robes. With one arm crooked to point while he gaped at Spirit standing proudly atop the small table, his lanky body looked as stiff as a spindly tree in winter.

“Where else did you stop on your way here?” He cast a suspicious look in her direction. “Have you been looting treasures from palaces?”

She realized then that the look wasn’t so much meant to be suspicious, as teasing. Kahlan ran a finger down Spirit’s flowing robes, letting her gaze follow the strength in the lines of the woman’s strong pose. Something felt so right about the way her head was thrown back, with her fists at her sides, and her back arched, standing against the invisible power trying to subdue her.

“No.” Kahlan swallowed. “Richard carved it for me.”

Zedd’s brow drew lower. He stared at the carving for a time before reaching out a sticklike finger to touch it, as if it were some priceless antiquity.

“Dear spirits…”

Kahlan pretended a smile. “Almost. It’s called Spirit, he said. Richard carved it for me when I was feeling like I would never get better. It helped me…”

In the awful silence, Zedd finally turned from the woman with her fists at her sides and her head thrown back to peer into Kahlan’s eyes. He frowned in the oddest way.

“It’s you,” he said half to himself. “Dear spirits…the boy carved a statue of your spirit. I recognize it. It’s as plain as day.”

Zedd was not only Richard’s grandfather—he was now hers, too. He was not merely the First Wizard. He was also the man who had helped raise Richard. Zedd had no family left save Richard.

Other than a half sister and brother who were strangers but for blood, neither did she. She was as alone in the world as was Zedd.

Now, through Richard, Zedd was her family, but even if he wasn’t, she realized he could mean no less to her.

“We’ll get him back, dear one,” he whispered in tender compassion. His sticklike hand reverently cupped her face. “We’ll get him back.”

Everything seemed to be swimming. Kahlan fell into his protective arms and dissolved into tears.

Chapter 34

Warren carefully pulled the snow-laden pine bough aside for her. Kahlan peered through the gap.

“There,” he said in a low voice. “You see?”

Kahlan nodded as she squinted off into the narrow valley far below. The scene was frosted white—white trees, white rocks, white meadows. Enemy troops moving up the distant valley floor looked like a dark line of ants marching across powdered sugar.

“I don’t think you need to whisper, Warren,” Cara said from behind Kahlan’s other shoulder. “They can’t hear you. Not from this far.”

Warren’s blue eyes turned to the Mord-Sith. Cara’s red leather would have stood out like a beacon, were she not sheathed in wolf fur that made her melt into the background of snow-dusted brush. Kahl

an’s own fur mantle was soft and warm against the sides of her face. Sometimes, since Richard had made it for her, the feel against her skin was evocative of his gentle caress protecting her and keeping her warm.

“Oh, but their gifted can hear us, Cara, even from this distance, if we are too vociferous.”

Cara’s nose wrinkled. “What’s that mean?”

“Loud,” Kahlan whispered in a way as if to suggest Cara should use a little more caution and be more quiet.

Cara’s face distorted with her displeasure at the thought of magic. She shifted her weight to her other foot, went back to watching the line of troops slowly flowing up the valley, and kept silent.

After she’d seen enough, Kahlan gestured, and the three of them started back through the ankle-deep snow. At their elevation in the mountains, they were right at the base of oppressive gray clouds, making it feel as if they were looking down from another world. She didn’t like the world she had seen.

They trudged up the slope dense with pine and naked aspen, to the thickly wooded top of the ridge, where the backbone of rock broke through the snow here and there like half-buried bones. Their horses waited a good distance back down off the rocky slope. Farther back down the mountain, where Warren and Kahlan were sure they would not be detected by any gifted who might be protecting the Order troops, waited an escort of D’Haran guards General Meiffert had handpicked to protect Kahlan and the two with her, who were also protecting her.

“So you see?” Warren asked in little more than a whisper. “They’re still at it—moving more and more men up this way, trying to get around us without us being aware of it.”

Kahlan held up the fur to shelter her face as a light breeze dragged a curtain of snow past them. At least it wasn’t snowing again, yet.

“I don’t think so, Warren.”