Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth 6)

Kahlan started pushing her. “Get it together. Now. Hurry.”

Verna abandoned her protests and ran off to collect what they had. Cara was about to unleash a tirade of objections when Zedd lifted a hand as if to ask she let him do the objecting, instead.

“Kahlan, it sounds like you might have something here, but someone else can do this. It’s foolish to risk—”

“I’ll be needing a diversion,” she said, cutting him off. “Something to distract their attention. I’ll be riding by in the dark, so they probably won’t notice me, but it would be best if there were something to occupy their attention, just in case, something to make them look elsewhere—for the last time.”

“As I was saying, someone else can—”

“No,” she said in quiet finality. “I’ll not ask someone else to do this. It was my idea. I’m doing it. I won’t allow someone to take my place.”

Kahlan deemed herself responsible for the peril they were in. It was she who had blundered and fallen for Jagang’s trick. It was she who had come up with the plan and ordered the troops out. It was she who made Jagang’s night attack possible.

Kahlan knew all too well the terror everyone felt, waiting for the attack. She felt it herself. She thought of Holly, fearful of being murdered by the marauding beasts coming out of the night for her. The fear was all too real.

It would be Kahlan who had lost the war for them, this very night, if they didn’t get their army back across that pass to safety.

“I’m doing this myself,” she repeated. “That’s the way it’s going to be. Standing here arguing about it can only cost us our chance. Now, I need a diversion, and I need one quickly.”

Zedd let out an angry breath. The fire was back in his eyes. He flicked out his hand, pointing. “Warren is back there waiting for me. The two of us will move to separate locations and give you your diversion.”

“What will you do?”

At last, Zedd surrendered to a grim, cunning grin. “Nothing fancy, this time. No clever devious tricks, like they no doubt expect. This time, we’ll give them a good old-fashioned firefight.”

Kahlan gave a sharp tug to the strap at her ribs holding her leather armor on her shoulders, chest, and back, cinching it down tight. She nodded once to seal the pact.

“Wizard’s fire it is, then.”

“Keep an eye to your right, to our side, as you ride. I don’t want you to get in the way of what I mean for the enemy. You must also watch for what their gifted send back at me.”

As she secured her cloak, she nodded assent to Zedd’s brief instructions. She checked the straps on her leg armor, making sure they were tight, remembering how the enemy’s strong fingers had clawed at her legs, trying to unhorse her.

Verna came rushing back, a big bucket at the end of each arm pulled down straight by the weight. Some of the Sisters were scurrying along beside her.

“All right,” the winded Prelate said. “Let’s go.”

Kahlan reached for the buckets. “I’ll take—”

Verna yanked them back. “How do you propose to ride and sprinkle this out? It’s too much. Besides, you don’t know its properties.”

“Verna, I’m not letting you—”

“Stop acting like an obstinate child. Let’s go.”

Cara snatched one of the buckets. “Verna is right, Mother Confessor. You can’t hold on to your horse, release the glass dust, and carry both buckets all at the same time. You two take that one, I’ll take this one.”

The willowy Sister Philippa rushed to Cara’s side and lifted the bucket. “Mistress Cara is right, Prelate. You and the Mother Confessor can’t do both buckets. You two take one; Mistress Cara and I will take the other.”

There was no time to argue with the three determined women. Kahlan knew that no one would be able to talk her out of what she had to do, and they probably felt the same. Besides, they had a valid point.

“All right,” Kahlan said as she pulled on her gloves.

She lashed tight the fur mantle she wore over the top of the wool cloak. She didn’t want anything flapping in the wind. The hilt of her sword was covered, but she figured she wouldn’t be needing it. The hilt of Richard’s sword stuck up behind her shoulder, her ever-present reminder of him—as if she needed one. She quickly tied her hair back with a leather thong.

Verna tossed a handful of the fluffy snow, checking the wind. It had held its direction and was light, but steady. At least that much was in their favor.

“You two go first,” Kahlan said to Cara. “Verna and I will wait maybe five minutes to let what you release drift in toward the enemy, so that we won’t ride through it. Then, we’ll follow you across the valley. That way we’ll be sure to overlap what you release with ours so as not to have any gaps. We need to make sure there’s no safe place for the Order to get through. We need the ruin and panic to be as uniform and widespread as possible.”

Sister Philippa, noting what Kahlan had done, fastened her cloak securely at her neck and waist. “That makes sense.”

“It would be more effective doubled like that,” Verna agreed.

“I guess there’s no time to argue this foolishness,” Zedd grumbled as he seized Spider’s mane and pulled himself up, laying across the horse’s back on his belly. He swung a leg over Spider’s rump and sat up. “Let me have a minute or two to get ahead of you and let Warren know, then we’ll start showing the Imperial Order some real wizard work.”

He pulled his horse around and smiled. It was heartening to see it again.

“After all this work, someone had better have some dinner waiting for me on the other side of that pass back there.”

“If I have to cook it for you myself,” Kahlan promised.

The wizard gave them a jaunty wave and galloped off into the darkness.

Chapter 39

Kahlan stuffed a boot in the stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn, and sprang up into her seat. The cold leather creaked as she leaned over and held a hand down in order to help Verna up. Once the Prelate squirmed in close behind Kahlan, two Sisters carefully handed the heavy wooden bucket up to her. Cara and Sister Philippa were on their horse and ready, the Sister balancing her bucket on her thigh.

“Get the children back across the pass,” Verna ordered.

Sister Dulcinia bobbed her head of gray hair. “I will see to it, Prelate.”

“Whatever more of the glass you can have ready by the time the Mother Confessor and I ride out, you should release into the wind for good measure, then get yourselves spread out behind our lines to help if the Order breaks through. If we fail, the Sisters must do their best to hold the enemy off while as many as possible make it across the pass to safety.”

Sister Dulcinia again promised to carry out the Prelate’s orders.

They all waited a few minutes in silence while giving Zedd the head start he needed to reach Warren with instructions. There seemed nothing else to say. Kahlan concentrated on what she had to do, rather than worrying whether or not it would work. In the back of her mind, though, she was aware of how notoriously imperfect were such last-minute battle plans.

Judging that they had waited as long as they dared, Kahlan motioned with her arm, signaling Cara to start out. The two of them shared a last look. Cara offered a brief smile, good luck—then raced away, Sister Philippa holding tight to the Mord-Sith’s waist with one arm and balancing the bucket on her thigh with the help of her other hand.

As the sound of hoofbeats from Cara’s horse faded into the night, Kahlan for the first time realized that, in the distance, she could hear t

he collective yells of hundreds of thousands of Imperial Order troops. The countless voices fused into one continuous roar as their attack drew ever closer. It almost sounded like the moan of an ill wind through a canyon’s rocky fangs. Her horse snorted and pawed the frozen ground. The awful drone made Kahlan’s pulse race even faster. She wanted to race away, before the men got too close, but she had to wait, to give the glass dust Cara and Sister Philippa released time to drift out of the way.

“I wish we could use magic to protect ourselves,” Verna said in a quiet voice, almost as if in answer to what Kahlan was thinking. “We can’t, of course, or they would detect it.”

Kahlan nodded, hardly hearing the woman. Verna was just saying anything that came to mind so as not to have to sit and listen to the enemy coming for them.

The bitter cold long forgotten, her heartbeat throbbing in her ears, Kahlan sat still as death, staring out into the empty night, trying to envision every aspect of the task at hand, trying to go through it all in her mind first, so she wouldn’t be surprised by anything that might happen and then have to decide what to do. Better to anticipate, if you could, than to react.

As she quietly sat her horse, she let her anger build, too. Anger made a better warrior than fear.

Kahlan fed that anger with images of all the terrible things she had seen the Imperial Order do to the people of the Midlands. She let the memories of all the bodies she had seen pass through her mind, as if they came before the Mother Confessor to plead with stilled tongues for vengeance. She remembered the women she had seen wailing over murdered children, husbands, sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers. She remembered strong men in helpless anguish over the senseless slaughter of their friends and loved ones. In her mind’s eye, she saw those men, women, and children suffering at the hands of a people to whom they had done no harm.

The Imperial Order was but a gang of killers without empathy. They merited no pity; they would get none.

She thought about Richard in the hands of that enemy. She savored her promise to kill every one of them if she had to until she got Richard back.