He cast a dark look at the old scribe as he pointed to the table of scrolls he had examined. “Where did these come from? Who sent them?”

Mohler’s face paled at the look Ludwig was giving him. “I’m sorry, Lord Dreier, but I don’t know. Sometimes soldiers brought in a scroll for the bishop. Sometimes when I arrived in the morning, the bishop was already here and he told me that there were more prophecies that had arrived in the night for me to record. He never said where they had come from and I knew better than to question the man.

“I knew the scrolls that had come from the abbey because I recognized the messenger who brought them, and sometimes you brought them yourself. Even if I had not been around to see them arrive, I recognize the scrolls written in your hand. But I don’t know about the others. I can tell you that they are written by at least half a dozen different people and apparently arrived from different places.”

“From different places? More than one place? Are you sure?”

Mohler shrugged nervously. “I don’t know for sure, Lord Dreier. It could be that they all came from the same place but were written out by different people. Being in different hands, I assumed they were from different places.”

That made the most sense, he supposed. Ludwig always worked alone, but that was because he’d had ulterior motives in the prophecy he collected. Other places wouldn’t have had that need to work alone, and might have employed a staff, all collecting prophecy from the same source.

Ludwig paced as he considered. This was not good news. Not good news at all. It was going to take a lot of work to catalog all of the prophecies to see which ones Ludwig had withheld that had somehow been provided to Hannis Arc anyway.

He needed to know how much Hannis Arc knew. He didn’t like surprises. He needed to know what he wasn’t aware of. Prophecy was a blade that the man used to cut down opposition. Ludwig needed to know how sharp was the edge on that blade.

As he paced, his attention was caught by something in a cabinet.

There, on a glass shelf, was a knife. The knife was speared through a withered hand.

But not just any hand.

It was the hand of a spirit, with a faint glow about it, caught and frozen in corporeal form.

The door of the case squeaked as he opened it and took out the knife. He held it up, showing Erika the skewered, mostly transparent hand.

“I don’t know for sure what that is,” she said, “but I think you have found some pretty convincing evidence of ghosts having been in this room.”

“More importantly,” he said with a smile, “I have also found a knife that interacts with them.”

He pushed the hand off the blade, and once free it vanished in a twisting wisp of vapor. The blade had apparently trapped it in the world of life.

Satisfied that the knife was what he thought it was, he slipped it under his belt until he could look around to see if he could find the sheath for it. The knife was far too valuable to leave lying around. He wondered what other things of such profound value he would find in the room. He wondered, too, what items Hannis Arc might have taken with him.

Ludwig let his gaze roam across the books of prophecy lying open all throughout the room. Prophecy that he had not wanted Hannis Arc to see. But despite his efforts, the man had seen it.

Ludwig sighed.

“Is it going to be a problem?” Erika asked, seeing his worried look at the prophecy.

“The die has already been cast,” he said, looking into her steely blue eyes. “Events have already been set into motion. There is no calling them back, now. Hannis Arc has a demon by its tail. It is no less perilous a problem for the spirit king. They need each other. I need neither of them.

“Chaos has now been loosed on the world, but I will rein it in.”

Just then, he felt something giving off the slightest tingle at his waist. He reached inside his coat and ran a thumb under his belt until he found the hidden pocket.

Slipping his finger into the pocket, he scooped out his journey book. He flipped open the black leather cover and turned over the first page. He always erased the previous messages as a precaution.

There, he saw new writing.

“My, my, my. Now isn’t this interesting.”

“What is it?” Erika asked.

“It would seem…” he murmured to her as he read the message again to himself, “that things are suddenly looking up.”

CHAPTER

41

Richard heard someone screaming at him.

They were screaming at him to breathe.

When he tried, he realized that he couldn’t draw a breath. He tried again, pulling harder, but it wouldn’t come. His lungs burned and it felt like he had the weight of a mountain pressing down on top of his chest.

He felt a hard shock, like a jolt of lightning slamming into him.

The woman screamed again, louder. “Breathe!”

He sat bolt upright and gasped. His eyes popped open.

He sucked in another desperate breath, as if he had been sinking under dark, black waters and unable to breathe and now he had finally gotten his head back up above the water.

He had seen them there, waiting in the blackness, dark wings opening in anticipation of having him.

Nicci was kneeling on the ground to his left, Zedd to the right. They both had flinched back at how fast he’d sat up. They pressed their fingers back to his temples. It had been Nicci he’d heard screaming at him to breathe, and he now recognized that it had been Zedd’s gift crackling through him like lightning.

Nicci closed her eyes as she bowed her head and put trembling fingers of her other hand to her forehead.

“Dear spirits … thank you…” she whispered to herself.

Richard panted, still confused, still trying to get enough air, still trying to make sense of where he was and what was happening. It felt so good having air fill his burning lungs that he simply wanted to feel himself breathe. It was such a relief not to see the dark ones coming for him.

As his dazed, murky awareness cleared, he could begin to sense the air of desperation around him.

Irena leaned in with joyful surprise. In her exuberance she knocked Nicci’s and Zedd’s hands off him in order to grip his shoulders. “Richard!” She gave him a gleeful shake. “You’re back! You’re at last awake!”

Richard blinked as he looked around, finally starting to catch his breath. Then he saw her.

Kahlan, beaming with a big smile, crowded Irena aside as she leaned in to put her arms around him in a tight hug, almost squeezing all the air back out of his lungs. She finally leaned back only because she needed to gaze into his eyes.

Her green eyes, even though they brimmed with tears, had never looked more beautiful to him.

“Welcome back,” she whispered to him in relief.

She bent forward, then, and kissed him.

It took his breath, but this time in a good way.

In that instant, it seemed that all the wonderful moments of being with her flashed across his mind’s eyes, everything from the first time he had looked into her eyes in the Hartland woods, to the day they were married, to seeing her again, now.

The world was still spinning as all the sights and sounds rushed in around him, but Kahlan’s soft lips on his made it all come gracefully to a halt.

Everything at last settled and seemed right again.

As Kahlan finally backed away to let him catch his breath, he saw men of the First File at a respectful distance back beyond the immediate group, all with serious, concerned expressions. Their postures eased in relief.

Towering pines sheltered them under a late-afternoon, leaden sky that threatened drizzle. The light there in the woods, under those low clouds and with the trees all around, was muted and mellow. Richard spotted a squirrel running across a limb, and heard birds singing and chirping. Leaves of a leaning birch tree shimmered in a breath of breeze. He found the sight of the woods all around them, the life all around them, cozy and comfor

ting. It was like being home. It felt safe.

In a way, he was home, back home to the world of life.

It felt as if he had been in a dark place for a hundred years, unsure if he would ever find his way back.

Seeing Kahlan made him forget even the pain and made the vision of the dark ones recede.

He saw a tear run down Nicci’s cheek. Zedd, too, looked shaken.

“We made it, then,” Richard said, more a statement to himself than a question, and also meant to reassure them that he was indeed back and all right. “We made it up through the gorge. It worked.”

Samantha stuffed her head of frizzy black hair under Zedd’s arm to worm her skinny body in closer in order to hug her thin arms around Richard’s chest.

“Lord Rahl, you’re all right! We were so worried.”

“I wasn’t,” Zedd said to the girl who had snuck in under his arm. “Nothing to be worried about.” He paused to swallow. “Just a matter of applying the proper skills to the task at hand.”

Tags: Terry Goodkind Sword of Truth Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net