Wizard's First Rule (Sword of Truth 1)

“Zedd,” he whispered, “now I know why you stand on this rock all the time. I’ve never felt anything like that in my life. I had no idea.”

Zedd smiled knowingly. “You’re a natural, my boy. You held your arms just right, your head had the proper tilt, you even arched your back correctly. You took to it like a duckling to a pond. You have all the makings of a fine wizard.” He leaned forward, gleefully. “Now just try to imagine doing it naked.”

“It makes a difference?” Richard asked in amazement.

“Of course. The clothes interfere with the experience.” Zedd put his arm around Richard’s shoulder. “Someday I will let you try it.”

“Zedd, why did you have me do that? It wasn’t necessary. You could have done it.”

“How do you feel now?”

“I don’t know. Different. Relaxed. More clearheaded. I guess not as overpowered, not as depressed.”

“That’s why I let you do it, my friend, because you needed it. You have had a hard night. I can’t change the problems, but I could help you feel better.”

“Thank you, Zedd.”

“Go get some sleep, it’s my watch now.” He gave Richard a wink. “If you ever change your mind about becoming a wizard, I would be proud to welcome you into the brotherhood.”

Zedd held up his hand. Out of the darkness, the piece of cheese he had thrown away floated back to him.

14

Chase reined in his horse. “Here. This will be a good place.”

He led the other three off the trail through an open tract of long-dead spruce, the silver-gray skeletons standing bare of all but a few branches and an occasional wisp of dull green moss. The soft ground was littered with the rotting corpses of the former monarchs. Brown bog weed, its broad, flat leaves laid down in haphazard fashion by past storms, looked like a tangled sea of dead snakes underfoot.

The horses picked their way carefully among the tangle. Warm air, heavy with humidity, carried the fetid smell of decay. A fog of mosquitoes followed them as they went, the only things alive as far as Richard could tell. As open as this place was, little brightness was offered by the sky, as a thick, uniform overcast of clouds hung oppressively close to the ground. Trailers of mist dragged across the silver spikes of the trees that remained standing, leaving them wet and slick.

Chase led the way for Zedd and then Kahlan, with Richard following behind, watching over them as they twisted their way along. Visibility was limited to less than a few hundred feet, and even though Chase didn’t seem to be concerned, Richard kept a sharp lookout; anything could sneak up close before they would be able to see it. All four swatted at the mosquitoes, and except for Zedd, they kept their cloaks tight for protection. Zedd, who shunned wearing a cloak, nibbled on the remnants of lunch, looking about as if on a sightseeing excursion. Richard had an excellent sense of direction but was glad they had Chase to lead them. Everything in the bog looked the same, and he knew from experience how easy it would be to become lost.

Since Richard had stood on the wizard’s rock the night before, he felt the weight of his responsibilities less of a burden, and more of an opportunity to be a part of something right. He didn’t feel the danger any less, but felt more strongly his need to be part of stopping Rahl. He saw his part in the scheme of things as a chance to help others who had no chance to fight Darken Rahl. He knew he couldn’t back away; that would be the end of him, and a lot of others.

Richard watched Kahlan’s body sway as she rode, her shoulders moving to the horse’s rhythm. He wished he could take her to places he knew of in the Hartland Woods, secret places of beauty and peace, far back in the mountains, show her the waterfall he had found, and the cave behind it, have lunch by a quiet forest pond with her, take her into town, buy her something pretty, take her someplace, any place, where she would be safe. He wanted her to be able to smile without having to worry every minute if her enemies were getting closer. After last night, he felt that the first part, his fantasy of being with her, was just an empty wish.

With a hand in the air, Chase brought them to a halt. “This is the place.”

Richard looked around, they were still in the middle of an endless, dead, dried-up bog. He didn’t see any boundary. It all looked the same in every direction. They tethered their horses to a fallen log and followed Chase a short distance farther on foot.

“The boundary,” Chase announced, holding his arm out at the introduction.

“I don’t see anything,” Richard said.

Chase smiled. “Watch.” He walked on, steadily, slowly. As he went forward, a green glow formed around him, at first hardly perceptible. It grew stronger, brighter, until after another twenty steps it became a sheet of green light pressing against him as he proceeded, stronger close to him and fading away about ten feet to the sides and above, growing larger with every step. It was like green glass, wavy and distorted, but Richard could see through it, see the dead trees beyond. Chase stopped and returned. The green sheet, and then the green glow, faded and vanished as he came back. Richard had always thought the boundary would be a wall of some sort, something that could be seen.

“That’s it?” Richard felt a little let down.

“What more do you want? Now, watch this.” Chase searched the ground, picking up branches, testing each for strength. Most were rotten and broke easily. Finally he found one, about a dozen feet long, that was strong enough to suit him. He carried it back into the glowing light until he reached the sheet of green. Holding the branch by the thick end, he passed the rest through the wall. Six feet away, the end of the stick disappeared as he pushed it forward, until he was holding what appeared to be a six-foot stick instead of a twelve-foot branch. Richard was perplexed. He could see beyond the wall, but not the other end of the stick. It didn’t seem possible.

As soon as Chase had pushed the stick in as far as he dared, it jumped violently. There was no sound. He hauled it back and returned to the others. He held the splintered end of a now eight-foot stick toward them. The end was covered with slaver.

“Heart hounds,” he said with a grin.

Zedd seemed bored. Kahlan was not amused. Richard was astounded. Since he seemed to have an audience of only one. Chase grabbed a fistful of Richard’s shirt and dragged him off. “Come on, I’ll show you what it’s like.” Chase locked his right arm together with Richard’s left as they proceeded, cautioning Richard, “Go slow, I’ll let you know when we’ve gone far enough. Keep hold of my arm.” They walked ahead slowly.

Green light began. With each step it became more intense, but it was different from when Richard had watched Chase go in by himself. Then, the light had been to Chase’s sides and above him, now it was all about. There was a buzzing sound, like a thousand bumblebees. With each step the sound became deeper, but not louder. The green light became deeper, too, and the surrounding wood darker, as if night were falling. Then the sheet of green was in front of them, materializing out of nothing, with the green glow everywhere else. Richard could hardly see the woods anymore; he looked back and couldn’t see Zedd or Kahlan at all.

“Easy now,” Chase warned. They pushed against the green sheet as they stepped slowly ahead. Richard could feel the pressure of it against his body.

Then everything else blacked out, as if he were in a cave at night, with a green glow around Chase and himself. Richard held Chase’s arm tighter. The buzzing felt like it was vibrating his chest.

With the next step the green sheet of the wall changed suddenly. “Far enough,” Chase said, his voice echoing. The wall had become darkly transparent, as if Richard were looking into a deep pond in the dark woods. Chase stood still, watching him.

There were forms on the other side.

Inky black shapes wavered in the gloom on the other side of the wall, specters floating in the deep.

The dead in their lair.

Something closer and faster moved nearer to them. “The hounds,” Chase said.

Richard felt an odd sensation of longing.

Longing for the blackness. The humming wasn’t a sound, he realized, it was voices.

Voices that murmured his name.

Thousands of distant voices called out to him. The black shapes were gathering, calling to him, holding their arms out to him.

He felt a sudden, unexpected stab of loneliness, felt the solitude of his life, of all life. Why did he need the pain when they were waiting, waiting to welcome him? Never alone again. The black shapes drifted closer in the gloom, calling to him, and he began to see their faces. It was as if he were looking through murky water. They came closer. He longed to step through. To be there with them.

And then he saw his father.

Richard’s heart pounded. His father called out to him mournfully in a long sorrowful cry. His arms thrust out, trying desperately to clutch for his son. He was just beyond the wall. Richard’s heart felt as if it were going to rip with yearning. It had been so long since he had seen his father. He wailed for him, hungered to touch him. He wouldn’t have to be afraid ever again. He had only to reach his father. Then he would be safe.

Safe. Forever.

Richard tried to reach out to his father, tried to go to him, tried to step through the wall. Something was holding his arm. Irritated, he pulled harder. Someone held him from his father. He screamed for whoever held him to let go. His voice sounded hollow, empty.

Then he was being pulled away from his father.

His anger roared to life. Someone was trying to drag him back by his arm. In a rage he grabbed his sword. A big hand clamped over his with an iron grip. Screaming in unrestrained fury, he struggled mightily to free the sword, but the big hands held tight, dragging him, stumbling, from his father. Richard struggled, but was hauled away.

The green wall came up suddenly in place of the darkness as he was pulled back. Chase was dragging him away from it, through the green light. The world returned with a sickening jolt. The dry, dead bog returned.