Warheart: Sword of Truth: The Conclusion (Sword of Truth 15)

Before Richard could say anything else, Kahlan put a hand on his arm to get him to be quiet so she could speak.

“Sliph, are you saying that you were created for the sole purpose of traveling from here to the Keep?”

The sliph turned her puzzled look to Kahlan. “Of course. Where else would I go?” The displeased frown grew again. “And why do you call me by that name … sliph?”

“You mean that’s not your name?” Kahlan asked.

“No. My name is Lucy.”

Richard looked at Kahlan out of the corner of his eye. “That explains a lot.”

Kahlan leaned closer to Richard and lowered her voice. “We have to get out of here if we hope to get to the palace.”

Richard nodded. “If she can get us to the Keep we can take the sliph from there to the palace.”

Kahlan’s gaze stayed on his. “That will work.”

Richard turned back to the well. “Lucy, we would be pleased if you could take us all to the Keep.”

She shot him a silver scowl. “I told you, I am not here to please you. If you all wish to travel to the Keep, I can take you there. But that is all I am required to do for you.”

Richard glanced one last time at Nicci and Kahlan. He turned his tone more official and less friendly.

“Of course. I understand, Lucy. Now, we need to travel to the Keep on urgent business. We need you to get us all there as swiftly as possible, and then you may return to your soul in the other world.”

“I would like very much to again be with my soul.” She bowed her silver head in a single nod of agreement. “Climb up and I will take you all to the Keep.”

“Thank you,” Richard said as he climbed up on the wall. He turned and extended a hand down to Kahlan.

Before he could help the others up onto the wall, a silver arm swept out over the side of the well and pulled them all from their feet. He had time only to gasp a last breath before she plunged them down into the silvery liquid.

The world abruptly went dark and silent.

Breathe, Lucy said to them. Her voice was an urgent, oppressive command in his mind.

Richard remembered too late that he had not instructed Cassia and Vale on how traveling in the living quicksilver worked. He hoped they would heed the sliph’s instruction. If they didn’t, they would arrive at the Keep dead.

More concerned with everything that he had to do than the process of traveling in a sliph, and being familiar enough with how it worked, he ignored his trepidation and drew the liquid silver into his lungs.

His grip with his left hand around the hilt of his sword tightened as the sensation of drowning tightened his chest.

Mercifully, the sensation and the associated panic eased.

With a feeling something like falling through space and at the same time floating without moving, the long journey began.

Unlike the way it had always felt in the past, this time it was not at all pleasant. It was a rather rough and painful feeling of being dragged, rather than carried along effortlessly. His whole body felt as if unseen forces were trying to pull it apart. The silver liquid burned in his lungs. He could feel the magic from the sword burning into his soul.

He tried his best to keep his mind on where they were going and what they needed to do, rather than on how unpleasant it was traveling in Lucy.

He needed to bring the sword with him, but he could feel the life leaching out of him by the moment as the poison within grew stronger.

CHAPTER

43

Breathe, a stern voice in his head commanded.

He couldn’t bring himself to obey. He didn’t care to obey.

Greenish light felt like an apparition moving to and fro in his mind’s vision. Even though his eyes were closed, the light made his eyes hurt as if someone were gouging their thumbs against his eyeballs. He heard harsh, jarring sounds, but couldn’t make them out. He also heard echoing voices, as if they were coming to him through a long tube. He didn’t know what those voices were saying.

He didn’t care what they were saying. He didn’t care if he ever moved again. He didn’t care if he ever breathed again.

It seemed like too much of an effort to care about anything.

Breathe, the stern voice in his head commanded again.

Someone hooked their arms under his. More hands grabbed his shirt and others his belt at the small of his back. People yelled and cursed as they struggled with him. Despite how hard he tried, he couldn’t understand the words. He stopped trying and instead let himself sink back down into the numb, silvery haze.

The hands all over him tugged harder at his clothes, his arms. They finally hauled him up above the undulating surface. The rolling surface tossed his limp form about, making him feel sick. He began to drift away from the hands.

Again the hands grabbed hold and lifted him as the people pulling him to the edge grunted with the effort. They finally succeeded in flopping him over the top of the wall. His head and arms hung down, the silver liquid running off him.

A hand repeatedly slapped him on the back hard.

“Breathe, Richard! Breathe!”

He recognized that it was Nicci’s voice. She sounded desperate. He wasn’t exactly sure why.

“Breathe!” That time it was Kahlan. She sounded even more desperate. He could hear panicked tears in her voice.

That sparked something in him. He didn’t want Kahlan to feel desperate. He didn’t want her to worry for him, to cry for him.

“Breathe!” she called out again through gritted teeth.

Richard did as she said and expelled the silver liquid from his lungs. It ran down the side of the stone wall of the well into a puddle on the floor.

He saw blood in the silvery liquid collecting on the floor. He thought that maybe there was more blood than silver liquid.

With his lungs emptied he felt the urgent need for air. He gasped a breath. It burned. He held his breath, not wanting to take another.

“Breathe, Richard!” Kahlan yelled in his ear. “Breathe!”

He drew another breath for her. It was difficult, it was painful, but he did it. His throat made a hoarse noise as he pulled in another breath. More blood ran in strings into the puddle under him.

He ached all over. His head felt like it was being crushed. He recognized that the sick feeling and the pain were from the poison of death in him. It had grown stronger. He could feel that he was running out of time.

Cassia, Vale, and Nicci gripped his arms and belt to pull him the rest of the way out of the well. He couldn’t help. As his legs came over the wall, they laid him on the ground. They were panting with the effort.

Richard lay on the ground for a time, each breath shallow and painful. He coughed up more blood. He could feel it running over the side of his face. He didn’t think he could get up.

And then he felt a searing jolt of magic explode in his mind as Nicci pressed her hands to the sides of his head. It sent such a shot of energy through him that it made his eyes open wide. It brought him crashing back to the world of life.

He was suddenly and fully conscious again.

He sat up in a rush, panting, wiping the blood from his chin on his shirtsleeve.

“Where are we? Are we there? Are we in the Keep?”

Nicci and Kahlan shared a look.

“What?” Richard asked, looking from one to the other. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re not exactly sure,” Kahlan said. She aimed a thumb over her shoulder at the silver face leaning over, looking down at him. “She insists this is the Wizard’s Keep.”

“It is the Keep,” the voice from the well said.

Richard worked to catch his breath as he drew his knees up and leaned back against the side of the well. He put his elbows on his knees and held his head for a moment. What Nicci had done made him feel much better, but he still felt far from good.

He squinted in the greenish light, looking around, trying to figure out where they were. It most certainly was no

t the place where the sliph’s well was. The round room with a domed ceiling was much the same as the place they had come from. And like the place they had left in the caves, with the exception of the round well made of mortared stones, this place was also entirely carved from soft rock rather than built of granite blocks. The difference from the caves back in Stroyza was that there was a doorway with no door.

Instead, just outside the doorway and dimly lit by the light from the glass sphere and candle lanterns in the well room, he saw a hanging cloth almost completely covering the opening. Oddly enough, the off-white, silky cloth had symbols painted all over it.

Richard at last stood, getting his balance for a moment, then drew his sword. The distinctive ring of steel echoed around the room as he checked the weapon. The sword appeared to have suffered no ill effects from being in the quicksilver liquid. It looked fine. In fact, it looked more than fine. It had a dark metallic gleam to it, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

When he looked up, Nicci was watching him. “It has been touched by the world of the dead.”

Richard gave her a crooked smile. “It wears death well.”