Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth 6)

“Like it?” Kahlan asked.

Trembling with the cold, Holly reverently ran her frail fingers down Spirit’s arm. “Where ever did you get something so beautiful?”

“Richard carved it for me.”

Holly finally pulled her gaze from the statue and looked up at Kahlan. “I miss Richard.” Kahlan could see Holly’s breath in the motionless air of the tent. “He was always nice to me. A lot of people were mean, but Richard was always nice.”

Kahlan felt an unexpected stab of anguish. She hadn’t expected the subject to turn to Richard.

“What was it you needed, Mother Confessor?”

Kahlan turned her thoughts away from her sorrow and smiled. “I was proud of the work you did to help save us today. I promised you that you would be warm. Tonight, you will be.”

The girl’s teeth were chattering. “Really?”

Kahlan laid the Sword of Truth on the far side of the bed. She stripped off some of her heavier clothing, doused the lamp, and then sat down on the straw-filled pallet. Light from nearby campfires lent a soft glow to the tent’s walls.

“Come. Climb into bed with me. It’s going to be very cold tonight. I need you to keep me warm.”

Holly only had to consider for a second.

As Kahlan lay down on her side, she pulled Holly’s back against her stomach and then drew the sack of heated pebbles up against the girl’s front. Holly hugged the sack and moaned with the thrill of warmth. The satisfied moan made Kahlan smile.

For a long time, she smiled, enjoying the simple pleasure of seeing Holly warm and safe. Having the girl there, holding her close, helped Kahlan to forget all the terrible things she had seen that day.

Far up in the mountains, a single wolf sang out in a long, lonely call. The cry echoed through the valley, trailing off, to be renewed again and again with forlorn persistence.

With his sword at her back, Kahlan’s thoughts turned to Richard. Thinking about him, wondering where he was and if he was safe, she silently wept herself to sleep.

The next day, snow moved down from the higher mountains to rampage across the southern regions of the Midlands. The storms raged for two days. The second night of the blizzard, Kahlan shared her tent with Holly, Valery, and Helen. They sat under blankets, ate camp stew, sang songs, told stories of princes and princesses, and slept together to keep warm.

When the snowstorm finally ended in a bleak golden sunrise, most of the taller tents had snow drifted to their eaves on their downwind side. The smaller ones were completely covered over. The men dug themselves out, looking like so many woodchucks come up out of their burrows for a peek.

Over the next several weeks, the storms continued to roll past, dumping more snow. In such weather, fighting, or even moving an army very far, was difficult. Scouts reported that the Imperial Order had withdrawn a week’s march back to the south.

It would be a burden to care for blinded men. Within a days walk all around the place where the special glass had been released, the D’Haran scouts reported that they had seen well over sixty thousand frozen corpses, now drifted over with the snow—blind men unable to care for themselves in the harsh conditions. The Imperial Order had probably abandoned them to their fate. A few dozen of the blind had managed to make it over the pass, looking for help, begging for mercy. Kahlan had ordered them executed.

It was hard telling the exact number blinded by Verna’s special glass; it could be that there were many who did in fact retreat with the Imperial Order, brought along to perform menial tasks. It was likely, though, that the corpses reported by the scouts were the bulk of those blinded. Kahlan could imagine that Jagang might not want them in his camp, using food and supplies, reminding his men of their stinging retreat.

She knew, though, that for Jagang retreat was but a momentary setback and not a reappraisal of his objectives. The Order had men enough to shrug off the loss of the hundred thousand killed since the fighting had started. For the time being, the weather prevented Jagang from striking back.

Kahlan didn’t intend to sit and wait for him. A month later, when the representative from Herjborgue arrived, she met with him immediately in the small trappers’ lodge they had found up in the trees to the west side of the valley. The lodge sat under the protection of towering, ancient pines, away from the open areas where the tents were congregated. The lodge had become Kahlan’s frequent quarters, and often also served as their command center.

It greatly relieved General Meiffert when Kahlan would stay in the lodge, rather than a tent. It made him feel as if the army was doing something about providing better accommodations for the Mother Confessor—the wife of Lord Rahl. Kahlan and Cara did appreciate the nights they slept in the lodge, but Kahlan didn’t want anyone to think she wasn’t up to the conditions the rest of them had to endure. Sometimes, she would instead have the girls sleep in the lodge along with some of the Sisters, and sometimes she insisted Verna sleep there with Holly, Valery, and Helen. It didn’t take a great deal of effort to persuade the Prelate.

Kahlan greeted Representative Theriault from the land of Herjborgue, inviting him into the cozy lodge. He was accompanied by a small guard unit, who waited outside. Herjborgue was a small country. Their contribution to the war effort was in the area of their only product: wool. Kahlan had need of the man.

After Representative Theriault knelt before the Mother Confessor, receiving the traditional greeting, he at last stood and pushed his heavy hood back on his shoulders. He broke into a broad grin.

“Mother Confessor, so good to see you well.”

She returned a sincere smile. “And you, Representative Theriault. Here, come over by the fire and warm yourself.”

By the stone fireplace, he pulled off his gloves and held his hands before the crackling flames. He glanced to the gleaming hilt of the sword sticking up behind her shoulder. His eye was caught by Spirit standing proudly on the mantel. He stared in wonder, as did everyone who saw the proud figure.

“We heard about Lord Rahl being captured,” he finally said. “Has there been any word?”

Kahlan shook her head. “We know they haven’t harmed him, but that’s about all. I know my husband; he’s resourceful. I expect he will find a way to get back to help us.”

The man nodded, his brow furrowed as he listened earnestly.

Cara, standing beside the table, reminded of her Lord Rahl by Kahlan’s words, idly rolled her Agiel in her fingers. Kahlan could tell by the look in Cara’s blue eyes, and by the way she casually let the weapon dangle once more by the small gold chain around her wrist, that the Agiel, being linked to the living Lord Rahl, still possessed its power. As long as it worked, they knew Richard was alive. That was all they knew.

The man opened his heavy traveling cloak. “How goes the war? Everyone anxiously awaits word.”

“As near as we can figure, we’ve managed to kill over a hundred thousand of their troops.”

The man gasped. Such numbers were staggering to someone from a place as small as his homeland of Herjborgue.

“Then, they must be defeated. Have they run back to the Old World?”

Rather than meet his gaze, Kahlan stared at the logs checkering in the wavering glow of the flames. “I’m afraid that losing that many men is hardly crippling to the Imperial Order. We’re taking their numbers down, but they have an army of well over ten times that many. They remain a threat, a week’s march to the south of here.”

Kahlan looked up to see him staring at her. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was having difficulty trying to imagine that many people. His wind-reddened face had paled considerably.

“Dear spirits…” he whispered. “We’ve heard rumors, but to learn they are true…” With a despondent look, he shook his head. “How is it ever going to be possible to defeat a foe of that size?”

“Seems that I remember, a number of years back, you were in Aydindril to see the Council and you had a bit of trouble after a grand dinner. That big man from Kelton?

??I forget his name—was boasting and speaking ill of your small land. He called you some name. Do you remember that night?—what he called you?”

Representative Theriault’s eyes sparkled as he smiled.

“Puny.”

“Puny. That was it. I guess he felt that because he was twice your size, that made him your better. I recall men clearing off a table, and the two of you arm wrestling.”

“Ah, well, I was younger back then, and I had a few glasses of wine with dinner, besides.”

“You won.”

He laughed softly. “Not by strength. He was cocky. I was clever, perhaps, and quick—that’s all.”

“You won; that was the result. Those hundred thousand Order troops aren’t any less dead because they outnumbered us.”

The smile left his lips. “Point taken. I guess the Imperial Order ought to quit now, while they have men left. I recall how those five thousand Galean recruits you led went after that force of fifty thousand, and eliminated them.” He leaned an arm on the rough-hewn mantel. “Anyway, I see your point. When you are facing superior strength, you must use your wits.”

“I need your help,” Kahlan told the man.

His big brown eyes reflected the firelight as they turned toward her. “Anything, Mother Confessor. If it be in my power to do, anything.”

Kahlan bent and shoved another log onto the fire. Sparks swirled around before ascending the chimney.