Warheart: Sword of Truth: The Conclusion (Sword of Truth 15)

It was fascinating in the remarkable clarity it brought to so many things, like prophecy, that she had always taken at face value without ever questioning. It also made her feel a little resentful for being duped her whole life by all the various established authorities who claimed absolute certainty on such subjects. Richard’s discoveries were like finding the key to so much that had been proclaimed to be unknowable and beyond the scope of knowledge of mere mortals.

It was a new world she would have to get used to, with new rules, and new challenges, but at least she felt as if the knowledge had given them the tools with which to fight to set things right. Now they knew what was really wrong, and that

would better help Richard to do what he needed to do: end prophecy.

The irony of the prophecy that he was the one to end prophecy wasn’t lost on her. In a way, it was poetic justice.

In a very fundamental way, what Richard had learned had already begun to cause prophecy to unravel.

Nicci, as much as she understood the truth contained within the scrolls, had been somewhat shaken by what they had revealed. The sorceress had been a Sister of the Light and had lived most of her life at the Palace of the Prophets, a place devoted to prophecy and teaching the gifted how to use it. But everything Nicci had learned there and thought she knew was built on misunderstanding and deception. When he had been taken there, Richard had peeled back the first layer, shedding new light on prophecy.

Now he had discovered that the entire structure of prophecy had no foundation in reality. The scrolls weren’t myth. It was prophecy itself that was really founded in myth.

Of course, Nicci never held any favor with prophecy in the first place, so Kahlan supposed the woman wasn’t as disturbed by what they had learned as she might otherwise have been. Nicci had always told them that she had viewed the study of prophecy as an onerous duty, and she had never taken delight in it the way many of the other Sisters had. There were Sisters there who had spent hundreds of years down in the vaults at the Palace of the Prophets, devoted to studying prophecy, delighting in what they believed they were learning, thinking they understood it.

Kahlan wondered what Sister Verna would think of what the scrolls had revealed–if they ever had the chance to see the woman again. There were a number of Sisters besides Verna now living at the Wizard’s Keep, in Aydindril. While Kahlan had been somewhat disoriented and confused by learning that many of the things she thought she knew were wrong, she had a suspicion that many of those Sisters would be bewildered and horrified that their whole world, everything they had believed and worked for, was not at all what they had thought. Not even close.

As with all truth, there would be those who refused to believe it and would not even look at the proof.

As they turned down the main street through the city, people in Saavedra stared openly at the dozen big soldiers of the First File riding tall in their saddles along with the three Mord-Sith in red leather, all escorting the Mother Confessor and the Lord Rahl. Kahlan wondered if most of these people even knew who the Lord Rahl was. After all, the only ruler they had known for most of their lives had been Hannis Arc. The Lord Rahl had always been a distant leader in a far-off land.

As they rode through the city, the sound of the horses’ hooves on the wet cobblestones echoed back from the warren of narrow streets and tightly packed buildings. Most of those buildings were low and drab, with only the ones on the main street having a second story. The wooden walls Kahlan could see had faded paint, if they had paint, and almost all of the wood was stained with dark, blotchy mold from the constant dampness.

The shops in the lower floors sold basic goods and few luxuries that Kahlan could see. Life in the Dark Lands was about surviving, and few could afford the finer things in life. The entire city was hunched defensively inward, with its back turned to the surrounding Dark Lands and the things living in it. In side streets vendors with small carts of bread, or meats, or general merchandise all watched with somber expressions as the column of horses trotted past. None rushed out to try to hawk their goods to the strangers riding past.

The overcast sky was as dark and threatening as it always seemed to be in the Dark Lands. Kahlan couldn’t remember the last time she had seen the sun. The constant gloom was depressing. The accumulating mist soaked the reins and the exposed leather of the saddle. She shook the hood of her cloak to shed some of the gathered water. At least it was only misting lightly and not raining.

As the rapid clatter of all the hooves echoed through the canyons of tightly packed buildings, Kahlan patted the muscular neck of her bay mare, giving it a bit of reassurance that she would treat it well. Old scars on the horse’s rump told Kahlan that previous riders had not been so kind or treated the horse well. They had obviously favored using a whip to make the animal do their bidding. The horse whinnied and tossed its head a little to let her know it had felt the gentle touch.

Richard rode a big black gelding that carried his weight easily. By the way it danced sideways at times when they stopped told her that the horse had some spirit. Richard looked magnificent on the horse. It was good to see him on one again. In the dull light his sword gleamed against his dark outfit. It was good to see him, too, with that glint of purpose in his eyes, even if those gray eyes also carried the shadow of poison.

As they left the city behind, and as happy as she was to be out of the citadel, she was happier still to be out of the depressing city of Saavedra. It felt good to be away from all the eyes on her. She had no way of knowing if any of those people watching would have been loyal to Hannis Arc, or for that matter, to Emperor Sulachan. For all she knew, he could have minions anywhere.

As they left the shelter of the city, though, there were other concerns. There was no telling who might be watching from the leafy shadows of the vast forests carpeting the wilderness. Commander Fister had been more than concerned that they were taking so few men. He wanted more than a dozen total in case they were set upon by half people. Richard told him that their safety depended on speed and escape, not on standing and fighting a battle. To that end, they’d brought a string of extra mounts so they could trade off and give the animals a break.

Cassia had reassured the commander that with three Mord-Sith along, they didn’t need more men. His face screwed up with a sour expression, but he didn’t say anything. Men of the First File had traditionally been the first line of defense for the Lord Rahl, but then, so had the Mord-Sith.

To Kahlan’s knowledge it had never formally been settled among them who took precedence. Mord-Sith didn’t think there was any need for formality. They believed that they took precedence and were never shy about making that point.

Richard, along with the commander and other officers of the First File, never contradicted that assertion. Richard didn’t see the need. There were always plenty of enemy to go around.

Once they were clear of the city, Richard took the lead and set a pace that would make it difficult for anyone to stop them. The sight of the men with Richard at the lead reminded her of cavalry on the move. Any half people on foot would be at a distinct disadvantage. Still, they had numbers that might even be able to overwhelm a column of horses moving at speed. If any appeared, though, they would move into a gallop. Stepping out in front of a pack of horses in a thundering gallop would be the last mistake they ever made.

Richard pulled his horse to a halt as they reached a place where the road divided. Two of the men who had grown up in the Dark Lands drew their horses alongside him.

“Which way?” Richard asked. “Left or right?”

“The right is the shortest route,” one of the men said.

“The left may be a little longer, but it’s easier traveling,” the other man said.

Richard turned in his saddle to look back at Nicci. “Do you sense anything ahead on either road?”

Nicci rested her wrists atop one another on the horn of her saddle as she looked off into the distance down each road.

“No,” she finally said. “I don’t sense anyone. But that doesn’t mean anything, really, with them able to mask their presence with occult powers. If they did that, I wouldn’t be able to sense them.”

Richard tapped the side of his thumb on the horn of his saddle as he gazed down both roads, considering. Kahlan knew that he was worried about something other than half people. He was concerned about Samantha trying to catch them out in the open with few men to protect them. Of course, soldiers would not really be much of an obstacle to the young sorceress.

Kahlan suspected that the Mord-Sith would not have any better of a chance to stop her. Mord-Sith had the ability to capture a person’s magic if it was used against them, bu

t exactly what abilities Samantha had, they didn’t know for sure, so it was hard to tell if a Mord-Sith’s abilities would work the same with Samantha. About the only thing they did know was that she was profoundly gifted and inventive in using that gift.

The worst problem for the three Mord-Sith, though, was that their Agiel didn’t work. The Agiel depended on the bond to the Lord Rahl, so as long as Richard had that poison in him the Mord-Sith were at a disadvantage. What other limitations that imposed on their ability to function, Kahlan didn’t know.

They were all rightfully concerned about traveling through dense woodlands, knowing what Samantha was capable of. Kahlan was glad that the way they were going, so far at least, was not taking them through any gorges or along the bases of any cliffs. Samantha had proven that she could bring a mountain down on their heads if she wanted to.

“Then I’d rather the shortest distance,” Richard finally said as he urged his horse onto the road to the right. “We need to make the best time we can.”

By the pace Richard was setting, it was clear that they would not have been able to make better time taking the better but longer road. She knew that Richard would make good time no matter how difficult the route. They’d brought relief mounts, so they could change horses in order to maintain a quick pace.

As the day wore on, the road began climbing in a series of switchbacks along the gentle rise of ever-higher slopes. The road was too narrow and rocky to have accommodated a cart, much less wagons. Anyone using the route would have had to use horses or pack mules.

The forest of shimmering leaves smelled of rot. Several times they had to stop so the men could push deadfalls off to the side of the road. The woodland silence was broken each time by the sound of the heavy, wet, rotted trees crashing down the side of the steep bank.

Near dark, they reached a turn in the road that went around a point of the mountain’s edge. It afforded them a view off into the distance in nearly every direction except behind. The terrain over their heads was too steep for any attack from above. Anyone who tried to come at them from over the mountain above them would surely fall and plummet to their death. No one could climb up from below, at least not in numbers and not at all quickly enough.