Blood of the Fold (Sword of Truth 3)

“It let go. As soon as you touched me, it let go.”

“Grab hold of my ankle and let’s get out of here.”

She gasped. “Richard! Look.”

The glow over their heads had lowered when he touched her, as if the magic had felt the touch, felt its prey, and was lowering in pursuit. It barely gave them room to crawl. Richard, with Kahlan holding his ankle, raced for the door.

Before they reached the door, the line of light overhead lowered until Richard could feel its heat against his back.

“Get down!”

She flattened to her stomach when he ordered it, and they squirmed forward on their bellies. When they at last reached the door, Richard flopped over on his back. The haze hovered inches above them.

Kahlan grabbed ahold of his shirt and pulled herself close. “Richard, what are we going to do?”

Richard stared up at the metal plate. It was above the glowing layer that extended from wall to wall. He could no longer get to the plate without reaching through the menacing light over them.

“We have to get out of here, or that thing is going to kill us, just like it killed those men. I have to stand.”

“Are you crazy? You can’t do that!”

“I have the mriswith cape. Maybe if I use that, the light won’t find me.”

Kahlan threw and arm over his chest. “No!”

“I’m dead anyway if I don’t try.”

“Richard, no!”

“Do you have a better idea? We’re running out of time.”

She growled in anger and extended her arm toward the door. Blue lightning exploded from her fist. The door sizzled with streaks of blue light racing around the perimeter of the door.

The thin layer of hazy light recoiled back, as if alive, and the touch of her magic was painful. The door, however, didn’t move.

As the light retreated, bunching in the center of the room, Richard sprang up and slapped a hand to the plate. The door groaned and began to move. The crackling blue flashes from Kahlan died out as the door inched opened. The glow began to flatten and spread once more.

Richard snatched Kahlan’s hand. He stood and squeezed through the opening, pulling her with him. They fell to the ground once outside, panting and holding on to one another.

“It worked,” she said, catching her breath from the fright. “I knew you were in danger, so my magic worked.”

As the door opened the rest of the way, the slick of light seeped into the corridor toward them.

“We have to get out of here,” he said as they came to their feet.

They trotted backward, keeping an eye on the creeping fog that pursued them. They both grunted when they smacked into an invisible barrier. Richard groped along its surface, but could find no opening. He turned back to see the light almost upon them.

With a rage of need, without thought, Richard threw his hands out.

Ropes of black lightning, undulating voids in the existence of light and life, like eternal death itself, blasted outward, twisting and curling away from his outstretched hands. The crack of lightning as the Subtractive Magic ripped into the world was deafening. Kahlan winced. She covered her ears and shrank from the sight.

In the center of the vaults, the hazy glow seemed to ignite. He felt a powerful, low-pitched thump in his chest and the stone beneath his feet.

The bookshelves were blown back, flinging a blizzard of papers into the air to flame briefly like thousands of sparks from a bonfire. The light howled as if alive. He could feel the black lightning exploding from within himself, power and fury beyond his comprehension, burning through him and twisting into the vault.

Kahlan tugged on his arms. “Richard! Richard! We have to run! Richard! Listen to me! Run!”

Kahlan’s voice sounded as if it came to him from a great distance. The black ropes of Subtractive Magic abruptly ceased. The world returned, rushing into the void of his awareness, and he felt alive again. Alive, and aghast.

The invisible barrier blocking their escape was gone. Richard snatched Kahlan’s hand and ran. Behind, the core of light tumbled and wailed, brightening all the time as the sound rose in pitch.

Dear spirits, he thought, what have I done?

They ran through the stone corridors, up stairs, and through halls that became more elaborate at each level, paneled and carpeted, with lamps lighting their way instead of torches. Ahead of them their shadows stretched out, but it wasn’t from the lamps —it was from the living light behind.

They burst through a door, out into a night alive with battle. Men wearing crimson capes fought bare armed men Richard had never seen before. Some wore beards, and many a head was shaved smooth, but each had a ring through his left nostril. In their strange leather belts and straps, some studded with spikes, and layers of hides and fur, they looked to be wild, savage men, an impression aided by the way they fought: gruesome smiles bared gritted teeth as they swung swords, axes, and flails, slogging into their opponents, sweeping aside strikes and pushing ahead with round bucklers set with long center spikes.

Though he had never seen the men before, Richard knew they had to be the Imperial Order.

Richard didn’t slow, but wove his way through openings in the battle, pulling Kahlan behind as he raced for a bridge. When one of the Imperial Order soldiers lunged at him, driving a boot toward him to stop him, Richard sidestepped, hooked his arm under the man’s leg, and flipped him aside, hardly slackening his headlong rush. When one of the Order’s soldiers came at him, Richard drove an elbow into the man’s face, knocking him aside.

In the center of the east bridge, which led into the countryside where lay the Hagen Woods, a half-dozen men of the Blood grappled with a like number of the Order. When a sword swung at him, Richard ducked under it, shouldering the man over the edge into the river before dashing on through the opening it created.

Behind, over the sounds of battle, the clash of steel and the cries of men, he could hear the wail of the light. He ran, his legs pumping seemingly of their own volition to escape; what they fled from was something worse than swords or knives. Kahlan needed no help in keeping up; she was right beside him.

Once they were on the other side of the river and not far into the city, the night vanished in a harsh glare that cast sudden inky shadows pointing away from the palace. The two of them ducked behind the plastered wall of a closed-up shop and, squatting down, gasped to catch their breath. Richard peeked around the side of the building and saw dazzling light blazing from all the windows in the palace, even those in the high towers. Light seemed to be oozing through the joints in the stone.

“Can you run some more?” he asked as he panted.

“I didn’t want to stop,” she said.

Richard knew the city well between the palace and the countryside. He led Kahlan though the confused, frightene

d, ululating mass of people, up streets tight with buildings and those wide with trees, until they reached the outskirts of Tanimura.

Halfway up the hill out of the valley where the city lay, he felt a hard thud in the ground that nearly took his feet out from under him. Without looking back, Richard swept an arm around Kahlan and dove with her into a low cut in the granite. Sweaty and exhausted, they clung together as the ground shook.

They stuck their heads up just in time to see the light ripping apart the massive towers and stone walls of the Palace of the Prophets as if they were paper before a hurricane. The whole of Halsband Island seemed to rend. Parts of trees and huge chunks of lawns lifted into the air along with stone of every size. A blinding flash drove a dome of dark debris before it. The river was stripped of water and bridges.

The curtain of light expanded outward with a clacking roar. The city beyond the island somehow stood up against the fury.

Overhead, the sky lit as if a celestial vault were flaring in sympathy with the bedazzling core below. The skirts of the shimmering bell of light overhead cascaded to the ground miles away from the city. Richard remembered that boundary; it was the outer shield that kept him here when he wore a Rada’Han.

“Bringer of death, indeed,” Kahlan whispered as she watched, awestruck. “I didn’t know you could do such a thing.”

“Neither did I,” Richard said under his breath.

A blast of air tore at the grass as it roared headlong up the hill. They ducked down as a roiling wall of sand and dirt raced past.

They cautiously sat up when all went still. Night had returned, and in the sudden darkness, Richard couldn’t see much below, but he knew—the Palace of the Prophets was gone.

“You did it, Richard,” Kahlan said at last.

“We did it,” he answered as he stared down at the dead, dark hole in the center of the city lights.

“I’m glad you brought that book. I want to know what else it says about you.” A smile began to spread on her lips. “I guess Jagang won’t be living there.”