Before Richard reached the soldiers, the morning suddenly lit with blinding blasts of fire. Thunderous eruptions of flame tore through the enemy lines, killing men by the hundreds. Sod, trees, and men were hurled into the air. Men, their clothes, hair, and flesh burning, tumbled across the ground.
Richard heard a howl coming from behind. It sounded somehow familiar. He turned just in time to see a roiling ball of liquid yellow flame wailing through the air toward them. It expanded as it came, tumbling with seething, deadly intensity.
Wizard’s fire.
The incandescent, white-hot inferno roared by just overhead. Once past Richard and his men, it descended, crashing down among the enemy soldiers, spilling a flood of liquid death out among them. Wizard’s fire stuck to what it touched, burning with ferocious intensity. A single droplet of it would burn down through a man’s leg to the bone. It was horrifyingly deadly. It was said to be so excruciatingly painful that those who lived longed only for death.
The question was, who was it coming from?
To the other side, men of the Order fell as something scythed through their ranks. It almost looked as if a single blade cut them down by the hundreds, ripping them apart with bloody ferocity. But who was doing it?
There was no time to stand around and wonder. Richard and his men had to turn to meet the soldiers who made it through the devastating conjuring. Now that their numbers had been so thinned, the Imperial Order soldiers were unable to mount an effective attack. Their charge fell apart on the blades of Richard’s men.
As they fought, more deadly fire came in to catch those trying to run, or those who massed to attack. In other places, Order soldiers fell without Richard or his men touching them. They gasped in great agony, clutching their chests, and fell dead.
Before long, the morning fell silent but for the groans of the wounded. Richard’s men rallied around him, unsure of what had happened, worried that whatever had befallen these men might suddenly turn and befall them as well. Richard realized that they didn’t see the attack of wizard’s fire and magic in the same way as he did; to them it must seem a miracle of salvation.
Richard spotted two people beside one of the buildings off to the side of the grounds. One was taller than the other. He squinted, trying to make them out, but he just couldn’t see who they were. With a hand on Tom’s shoulder for support, they headed toward the two figures.
“Richard, my boy,” Nathan said when Richard made it over to him. “So good to find you well.”
Ann, a squat woman in a plain gray dress, smiled that knowing smile of hers, so filled with joy, satisfaction, and at the same time a kind of knowing tolerance.
“I doubt you two could imagine how glad I am to see you,” Richard said, still catching his breath, trying not to breathe too deeply. “But what are you doing here? How in the world did you find me?”
Nathan leaned in with a sly smile. “Prophecy, my boy.”
Nathan wore high boots and a ruffled white shirt with a vest and an elegant green velvet cape attached at his right shoulder. The prophet cut quite the figure.
Richard saw then that Nathan was wearing an exquisite sword in a polished scabbard. It seemed to Richard rather odd for a wizard who could command wizard’s fire to carry a sword. It seemed even more odd to see the man abruptly draw the weapon.
Ann suddenly gasped as someone sprang from behind the building and grabbed her. It was one of the people from the city who had gathered to protect the army—a tall, slender, pinched-faced woman with a formidable scowl and a long knife.
“You are murderers!” she cried, her straight hair whipping side to side. “You are filled with hate!”
The ground around Ann and the woman erupted, chunks of dirt and grass flying up into the air. Ann, a sorceress, was apparently trying to fight off her attacker. The woman was unaffected. Against a pristinely ungifted person, magic wasn’t working.
Nathan, not far to the side of Ann, stepped in and without ado ran the tall woman through with his sword. The woman staggered back, his sword through her chest, her face a picture of surprise. She dropped, sliding off the red blade.
Ann, free of her attacker, glanced at the dead woman. She fixed Nathan in a scowl. “Dashing indeed.”
Nathan smiled at her private joke. “I told you, they aren’t touched by magic.”
“Nathan,” Richard said, “I still don’t understand—”
“Come here, my dear,” Nathan said, signaling off behind him.
Jennsen ran out from behind the building. She threw her arms around Richard.
“I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said. “I hope you aren’t angry with me. Nathan showed up in the woods not long after you and the men left. I remembered seeing him before—at the People’s Palace in D’Hara. I knew he was a Rahl, so I told him the trouble we were in. He and Ann wanted to help. We came as fast as we could.”
Jennsen looked expectantly up at Richard. He answered her worry with a hug.
“You did the right thing,” he told her. “You used your head for something the orders didn’t anticipate.”
Now that the heat of battle had ended, Richard was dizzier than ever. He had to lean on Tom for support.
Nathan put a shoulder under Richard’s other arm. “I hear you’re having trouble with your gift. Maybe I can help.”
“I don’t have time. Nicholas the Slide has Kahlan. I have to find her or—”
“Don’t play a fool when you aren’t,” Nathan said. “It won’t take long to bring your gift into harmony. You need the help of another wizard to get it under control—like the last time I helped you—or you won’t be of any use to anyone. Come on, let’s get you inside one of these places where it’s quiet. Then I can take care of that much of your troubles.”
Richard wanted nothing more than to find Kahlan, but he didn’t know where to look. He felt like falling into the man’s arms and surrendering his destiny to him, to his experience, to his vast knowledge. Richard knew Nathan was right. He felt like crying with relief that help was finally at hand. Who better to help him get his gift back under control than a wizard?
Richard had never even dared to hope to have this opportunity; he had planned on trying to get to Nicci because she was the only one he could think of who might know what to do. This was infinitely better than a sorceress helping him.
A wizard was the only one really meant to help with this kind of trouble with another wizard’s gift.
“Just make it quick,” he told Nathan.
Nathan smiled that Rahl smile of his. “Come on, then. We’ll have your gift back to right in no time at all.”
“Thank you, Nathan,” Richard mumbled as he let the big man help him through a nearby doorway.
Chapter 60
Richard sat cross-legged on the wood floor facing Nathan. The barren room had no furniture. Nathan said none was needed, that the floor was fine with him. Ann, not far away, sat on the floor as well. Richard was a little surprised that Nathan was allowing her to observe, but didn’t question it. There was the possibility that he might want to have her help for some part of it.
Everyone else waited outside. Cara wasn’t happy about allowing Richard out of her sight, but Richard calmed her concern by telling her that he would feel more comfortable and able to concentrate on correcting the problem with his gift if he knew she was outside keeping an eye on everything for him.
The two windows had been shuttered, allowing in only dim light and keeping out most of the noise. With his hands on his knees, the prophet pushed his back straighter and, drawing a deep breath, seemed to pull an aura of authority around himself. Nathan was the one who had first taught Richard about his gift, telling him how war wizards, like Richard, weren’t like other wizards. Instead of tapping the core of power within themselves, they directed their intent through their feelings.
It had been a difficult concept to grasp. Nathan had told Richard that his power worked through anger.
“Lose yourself in my eyes,”
Nathan said in a quiet voice.
Richard knew he had to try to put his worry for Kahlan aside.
Trying to keep his breathing steady so as not to cough, he stared into Nathan’s hooded, deep, dark, azure eyes. Nathan’s gaze drew him in. Richard felt as if he were falling up into the clear blue sky. His breath came in ragged pulls, and not of his own doing. He felt Nathan’s commanding words more than heard them.
“Call forth the anger, Richard. Call forth the rage. Call forth the hate and fury.”
Richard’s head was swimming. He concentrated on calling his anger. He thought about Nicholas having Kahlan and he had no trouble summoning rage.
He could feel another force within his own, as if he were drowning and someone were trying to hold his head above water.
He drifted, alone, in a dark and still place. Time seemed to mean nothing.
Time.
He had to get to Kahlan in time. He was her only chance.
Richard opened his eyes. “Nathan, I’m sorry, but…”
Nathan was drenched in sweat. Ann was sitting beside him, holding Richard’s left hand, Nathan his right. Richard wondered what had happened.
Richard looked from one face to the other. “What’s wrong?”
They both looked grim. “We tried,” Nathan whispered. “I’m sorry, but we tried.”
Richard frowned. They had only just begun.
“What do you mean? Why are you giving up so soon?”