Severed Souls (Sword of Truth 14)

Kahlan thought that maybe she should be the one unwilling to accept the reality of Richard’s death, that she should be the one saying that he would return and hoping against hope for some miracle to come out of thin air.

But she was a Confessor, and as a Confessor Kahlan’s entire life had been devoted to truth. She couldn’t deny the truth because it was painful.

Even in this, she could not deny truth.

Cassia rolled her Agiel in her fingers. “Mother Confessor, I was without hope. I found my way back.”

Kahlan gestured to the woman’s Agiel. “And does your Agiel work, now that Dreier is dead and Richard is … gone?”

“No,” Cassia said with a sad smile. “But is it so bad that I don’t feel the pain? At least for a time?”

“I guess not,” Kahlan said as she put a consoling hand on the woman’s shoulder. “But not feeling the pain means that Richard is gone, and the bond to the Lord Rahl is dissolved. I guess, though, that not feeling the pain of that link is a small consolation.”

She knew that, for her, the pain had only just begun.

“What about Lord Rahl’s sword?” the commander asked. “I mean, do we leave it with him, when we … prepare his funeral pyre?”

Kahlan knew what she had to do. “No. With Zedd gone, and Richard gone, the sword now falls to me. Bring it to me.”

He silently tapped his fist to his heart.

Talking about it, having to face the reality, was crushing her soul. Kahlan felt faint with the grief twisting in on her. Her knees almost buckled. Nicci caught her arm and helped her over to a window where she hurriedly unlatched it and swung it open.

“I think you need a little fresh air,” the sorceress said.

The thought of Richard lying dead and all alone back in that room was making Kahlan feel hot and dizzy. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind. She couldn’t think of anything else. Richard seemed so alive, and yet, her mind could bring forth only the image of his worldly form lying lifeless on the bed as his severed soul was being carried down into eternal darkness. Even though part of her could think of him only as alive, he was already receding back into the realm of memories.

Kahlan wanted to scream, to cry, to turn things back to the way they had been. For some reason, she couldn’t cry. She thought she might pass out instead. Her hands shook. Her whole body trembled.

“Kahlan,” Nicci said in urgent, but soft, compassion, “you need some air. Breathe. Come on, take a deep breath. It will do you good.”

Kahlan leaned on her hands on the stone sill, breathing in the cooler air. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and drip off her jaw.

How was she going to go on?

What was she going to do?

She just wanted Richard. She ached for him to be there by her. Somehow, none of it seemed real, and yet it seemed more real than anything had ever felt.

She had wanted so badly for Richard to have a life with her, a life they could share and enjoy away from conflict. A time to live for just themselves. That chance had slipped away from them. Now, they would never have a life together.

As she gazed out across the grounds and to the forest not far beyond, she spotted a creature at the edge of the woods, sitting on its haunches, watching her.

It was Hunter.

As he sat there, silently looking up at her, Kahlan thought that he almost looked like he had come to offer his condolences. More likely, Red had sent him in a gesture offering hers.

Red had known. Red had told her. Had Kahlan listened to Red’s warning and done as the witch woman wanted, Kahlan would be the one who was dead, and Richard would be alive.

She looked over at the sorceress. Of course, Nicci would be dead, too.

Prophecy rarely turned out the way it seemed.

In this case, events had turned out exactly as Red had predicted, but in ways that Kahlan could never have imagined.

And yet, the prophecy had been precisely correct.

Kahlan hadn’t listened.

Now, like Richard, prophecy, too, was dead.