Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth 6)

Now, with summer finally upon them, Jagang was beginning his campaign anew. He planned his troops to now visit those cities his envoys had been to.

The door burst open. It was not the wind, but Rikka. The Mord-Sith looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

Cara went to her side, to be ready to offer assistance if requested, but didn’t directly lend a hand for support. A Mord-Sith did not look favorably upon help in front of others.

Rikka stepped up to the table, opposite Kahlan, and tossed two Agiel down atop the map.

Kahlan closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up into Rikka’s fierce blue eyes. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, Mother Confessor. I found their heads impaled on pikes. Their Agiel were tied to the pikes.”

Kahlan held her anger in check. “Are you satisfied, now, Rikka?”

“Galina and Solvig died as Mord-Sith would want to die.”

“Galina and Solvig died for nothing, Rikka. After the first four, we knew it wouldn’t work. With the dream walker in their minds, the gifted are not vulnerable to Mord-Sith in the way that would otherwise be the case.”

“It could have been something else. If we can catch their gifted where the Mord-Sith can get at them, then we might be able to take them out. It’s worth the risk. Their gifted can cut down thousands of soldiers with a sweep of their hand.”

“I understand the wish, Rikka. Wishing, however, does not make it possible. We have six dead Mord-Sith to show us the reality of what is. We will not throw away the lives of any more because we refuse to recognize the truth of it.”

“I still think—”

“Those of us here have important things to decide; I don’t have time for this.” Kahlan put her fists on the table and leaned toward the woman. “I am the Mother Confessor, and the wife to Lord Rahl. You will do as I say or you will leave. Do you understand?”

Rikka’s blue eyes shifted to Cara. Cara stood as expressive as a stone. Rikka looked back at Kahlan and let out a long sigh.

“I wish to remain with our forces and do my duty.”

“Fine. Now, go get yourself something to eat while you still have a chance. We need you to be strong.”

For a Mord-Sith, Rikka’s little nod was about as close to a salute as it came. After she was gone, Kahlan swatted at the plague of mosquitoes and returned her attention to the map.

“So,” she said, removing the two Agiel from the map, “who has any suggestions?”

“I’d say we have to keep at their edges,” Zedd offered. “Obviously, we can’t be throwing ourselves in front of them. We can do nothing but to continue to fight them as we have been doing.”

“I agree,” Verna said.

General Meiffert rubbed his chin as he stared down at the map spread out before them on the table. “What we have to worry about is his size.”

“Well, of course we have to worry about the size of the Order,” Kahlan said. “They have enough men to split up and still be too huge to handle. That’s what I’m talking about—what we’re going to do when he splits. If I were him, that’s what I’d do. He knows how it would complicate our lives.”

There was an urgent knock. Warren, over by the window, not bothering to look at the map with the rest of them, opened the door.

Captain Zimmer stepped in, giving a quick salute of his fist to his heart. Panting as he entered, he brought with him a swirling rush of warm air that smelled like a horse. Ignoring the rest of them, Warren returned to his brooding at the window.

“He’s splitting his force,” Captain Zimmer announced, as if their fear had given birth to the reality.

Most in the room sighed unhappily with the news.

“Any direction, yet?” Kahlan asked.

Captain Zimmer nodded. “From the looks of it, he’s sending maybe a third, possibly a little more, up the Callisidrin Valley toward Galea. The main force is heading to the northeast, probably to enter and go north up the Kern Valley.”

They all knew the eventual goal.

Zedd made a fist. “There’s no joy in being right, but that’s just what Kahlan and I talked about. That was our guess.”

General Meiffert was still rubbing his chin as he studied the map. “It’s an obvious move, but with the size of his force the obvious is not a liability.”

No one wanted to broach the issue, so Kahlan settled the matter. “Galea is on its own. We’re not sending any troops to help them.”

Captain Zimmer finally waggled a finger at the map. “We need to put our forces in front of their main force to slow them down. If we stay on their heels instead, we will only be cleaning up the mess they make.”

“I’d have to agree.” The general shifted his weight to his other foot. “We have no choice but to try to slow them. We’ll have to keep giving ground, but at least we can slow them. Otherwise, they are going to move up through the center of the Midlands with the speed and power of a spring flood.”

Zedd was watching the young wizard off by himself at the window. “Warren, what do you think?”

Warren looked up at the sound of his name, as if he hadn’t been paying attention. Something about him didn’t look well. He took a breath and straightened, his face brightening, making Kahlan think she had been mistaken. Hands clasped behind his back, Warren strode to the table.

He peered at the map from over Verna’s shoulder. “Forget Galea—it’s a lost cause. We cannot help them. They will suffer the sentence imposed upon them by the Mother Confessor—not because she spoke the words, but because her words were simple truth. Any troops we sent to help would be forfeit.”

Zedd cast a sidelong glance at his fellow wizard. “What else?”

Warren finally moved closer to the table, wedging himself between Verna and the general. With authority, he firmly planted his finger on the map, far to the north—almost three-quarters of the way to Aydindril from where they were camped.

“You have to go there.”

General Meiffert frowned. “Up there? Why?”

“Because,” Warren said, “you can’t stop Jagang’s army—his main force. You can only hope to slow them as they move north, up into the Kern Valley. This is where you must make a stand, if you hope to delay them next winter. Once they move through you, they will be upon Aydindril.”

“Move through us?” General Meiffert asked in an surly manner.

Warren looked up at him. “Well, do you suppose you are going to be able to stop them? It wouldn’t surprise me if by then they have three and a half to four million men.”

The general let out an ill-tempered breath. “Then why do you think we should be at that spot—right in their way?”

“You can’t stop them, but if you harry them sufficiently as they move north, you can keep them from reaching Aydindril this year. At this spot, they will be running out of time before the weather closes in. With a bit of stiff resistance, you can grind them to a halt for the winter, buying Aydindril one more season of freedom.”

Warren looked up into Kahlan’s eyes. “The following summer, a year from now, Aydindril will fall. Prepare them for it in whatever way you are able, but make no mistake: the city will fall to the Order.”

Kahlan’s blood ran cold. To hear him say the words aloud staggered her. She wanted to slap him.

To contemplate the Imperial Order taking their attack into the heart of the Midlands was horrifying. To accept, as foreordained, the Imperial Order seizing the heart of the New World was unthinkable. Kahlan’s mental image of Jagang and his bloodthirsty thugs strolling the halls of the Confessors’ Palace sickened her.