Confessor (Sword of Truth 11)

Laurie obviously felt a sense of dread that their world was again being threatened. But with the Imperial Order on the march everyone’s world was threatened. In that sense there was nothing especially unique about the pristinely ungifted.

Jennsen wasn’t sure who it was that was now down in the tomb. She reasoned that it might be Nathan and Ann returned to retrieve books they needed from the long-forgotten underground library. Those books, too, had been banished to their hiding place behind boundaries that none had been able to cross until Richard had come along.

Jennsen reasoned that it might also be Richard down in the tomb. Nathan and Ann had long ago set off with Tom to find him. If they had succeeded they would have told him about the underground library. Perhaps he’d returned to see the ancient library for himself, or maybe he’d returned looking for something specific. Jennsen would dearly love to see her brother again. The very idea of it gave her a flutter of excitement.

She realized, though, that it could be someone else—someone who could harm them all. It was that thought that kept her from rushing down into the tomb.

Despite how much she wanted to go and see if it was Richard, Jennsen’s life on the run with her mother had given her a finely honed sense of caution, so she crouched motionless, watching for any sign of who it might be down in the tomb.

Mockingbirds in the distance repeated calls into the still darkness, trying to outdo one another in a kind of endless nightly argument. As she idly listened to the strident calls, Jennsen knew that it would be best to remain hidden and wait for whoever was down inside the tomb to appear, but she worried that the others might return from their search and inadvertently give them away, so she decided that as she kept an eye on the tomb it would be best to send Laurie to find the others and warn them about the unknown intruders.

Before Jennsen could crawl in close and whisper instructions to Laurie, the young woman abruptly started crawling forward. Apparently, she’d decided that it might be her husband down in the tomb. Jennsen lunged, snatching at the young woman’s ankle, but it was out of reach.

“Laurie!” Jennsen whispered. “Stop!”

Laurie ignored the command, instead skittering off through the dry grass. Jennsen immediately crawled after her, wending her way among ancient grave markers scattered about on the uneven ground. The dry grass made far too much noise for Jennsen’s liking. Laurie wasn’t being especially careful, or quiet. Jennsen had been schooled in evasion and escape by her mother. Laurie didn’t know much about such things.

Some distance ahead in the darkness, Laurie gasped in fright.

Jennsen lifted her head just enough to try to see if anyone was nearby, but in the darkness it was hard to see much of anything. For all Jennsen knew there could be a dozen men spread out around them. If they remained still it would be difficult, if not impossible, to see them.

Laurie suddenly rose up on her knees as she let out a wail of horror that sent a ripple of goose bumps up the nape of Jennsen’s neck. The scream shattered the quiet of the night. The mockingbirds fell silent.

In the dead of night, such a scream would carry great distances. No longer having to worry about giving herself away, Jennsen scrambled to her feet and raced to cover the remaining distance to the woman. Overcome with abject misery, Laurie held her hair in her fists as she threw her head back and cried in desolation.

The body of a man lay sprawled in the grass before her. Even though it was too dark for Jennsen to make out the face, it was only too obvious who it had to be.

Jennsen pulled the silver-handled knife from the sheath at her waist.

Just as she did so, the dark shape of a big man, sword in hand, loomed up out of the darkness. He had probably been the one who had killed Laurie’s husband. After that he’d likely crouched somewhere nearby to be on watch for anyone else who might approach the open tomb.

Just as Jennsen reached Laurie, but before she could knock the young woman out of harm’s way, the man swung the sword. The dark blur of the blade slashed across Laurie’s throat, nearly decapitating her. Splatters of warm blood splashed across the side of Jennsen’s face.

Her horror was instantly banished by a flash of anger. She might have expected dread, fear, or even panic, but it was a rush of hot rage that erupted through her. It was an anger first ignited by others who had so long ago come out of nowhere and brutally murdered her mother.

Before the sword had even finished the murderous slash, Jennsen was already leaping toward the man.

She leaped out of the darkness, hitting him square in the chest with her knife. Before he could even flinch back in surprise, she pulled the knife back and, gripping it tightly in her fist, stabbed it into his neck three times in rapid succession. Atop him, she rode him to the ground, still furiously stabbing him. Only when his breath gurgled to a halt did she stop.

In the sudden stillness, she panted, catching her breath. She struggled to not allow herself to become paralyzed by the shock of what had just happened. If there was one guard, there would likely be others. She knew for certain that there was someone down in the tomb. She had to get away from the place where Laurie had screamed.

Jennsen told herself to move. Moving was her best defense, now. Moving was life.

Crouching low, she started slipping away to the side, the whole time keeping an eye on the shaft of light rising up from the tomb, watching for anyone who might emerge to investigate the noise and discover the bodies.

A second man seemed suddenly to materialize out of the black night, rising up out of the grass right in front of her.

Jennsen flipped the knife in her hand, getting a fighting grip on it, rather than the stabbing grip she’d had when she’d taken the other man down. Her heart pounded wildly as she looked around for other threats.

She ignored the man’s command to stop and instead quickly feinted left. As he lunged in that direction, grabbing for her, Jennsen instead rolled to the right.

Another man appeared out of the darkness, responding to the yells of the first man, blocking any escape to that side. The light coming from the tomb glinted softly off links of the chain mail covering the man’s broad chest and the axe gripped in a meaty fist. Long greasy strings of hair hung down over his shoulders.

She reminded herself to remember his chain mail in case she had to fight him off. Her knife would be largely ineffective against such armor. She would need to find vulnerable spots. She realized that she had been lucky that the man she’d fought, the man who had killed Laurie, hadn’t been wearing chain mail.

Jennsen’s frantic urge was to turn and run in blind panic but she knew that running would be a mistake. Running aroused the instinct to chase. Once in a chase, that instinct took over and men like this wouldn’t stop until they had a kill.

Both men expected her to run in the direction that seemed open to her—away to her left. Instead, she bolted for them, intending to slip right between them and out of their snare before they could close in. The closest man, the one she knew to be wearing mail, had his axe at the ready. Before he could raise it and strike, she slashed the exposed inside of his arm. Her razor-sharp knife sliced across the meat of the underside of his forearm, just up from the wrist. She could hear the soft snap of tendons under tension parting as they were cut.

The man cried out. Unable to hold his axe, he dropped it to the ground. Jennsen snatched it up as she ducked under the second man diving for her. She sp

un and slammed the weapon into his back as he flew past.

Jennsen scrambled away as one of the men held his useless right arm and the other wheeled toward her with an axe handle jutting up at an angle from his back. He staggered a few steps, still coming for her, before he dropped to a knee gasping for breath. By the gurgling sound of his breathing, she knew that she had punctured his lung at the least. It was clear that he was in no condition to fight, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

If she was going to escape, this was her chance. Without hesitation, she took it.

Almost immediately a wall of men loomed up before her. Jennsen skidded to a stop. Men appeared all around her. From the corner of her eye she saw shadows twisting through the shaft of light as figures raced up from within the tomb.

“If you want,” the man in front of her said in a gruff voice, “we’d be happy to cut you down. Otherwise, I’d suggest you just hand me that knife.”

Jennsen stood frozen, considering her options. Her mind didn’t seem to want to work.

In the distance she could see figures, silhouetted by the light, rushing toward her from the tomb.

The man held out a hand. “The knife,” he said with menace.

Jennsen wheeled her arm and stabbed him through the palm of his hand. As he flinched back at the same time Jennsen pulled, the blade parted his hand between his two middle fingers. The night air rang with a rage of profanity. Jennsen took the chance to dart through the biggest opening in the wall of men and into the darkness beyond.

Before she had run three steps an arm hooked her around the middle. He yanked her back so violently that it drove the air from her in a whoosh. The soldier slammed her back against his leather armor. Jennsen gasped for breath.

Before he was able to corral her flailing arms, she drove her knife into his thigh. The tip hit bone and stuck. Cursing, he finally collected her arms, pinning them to her sides.

Tears of terror and frustration stung at her eyes. She was going to die here in the middle of a graveyard without ever seeing Tom again. At that moment, he was all that seemed important, all she wanted. He would never know what had happened to her. She would never be able to tell him one last time how much she loved him.