Faith of the Fallen

by Terry Goodkind

  The plan, too, was designed to keep in mind Richard’s admonition about not attacking directly into the Order. Zedd wasn’t sure about the validity of Richard’s warning, but knew better than to so openly tempt ruin.

  Hopefully, once they enticed the enemy into that tighter terrain, terrain more defensible, the Order would lose some of their advantage and their advance could be halted. Once the Imperial Order was stalled, the D’Harans could begin working the enemy down to size. The D’Harans thought nothing of being outnumbered; it just gave them a better opportunity to prove themselves.

  Zedd stared off, imagining the hillsides darkened with the enemy pouring forth. He was already seeing the lethal powers he would unleash.

  He knew, too, that in battle things rarely went as planned.

  “Don’t you worry, General, today the Imperial Order is going to begin paying a terrible price for its aggression.”

  The grinning general clapped Zedd on the side of the shoulder. “Good man.”

  General Reibisch charged off, calling for his aides and his horse, collecting a growing crowd of men around him as he went.

  It had begun.

  Chapter 30

  Arms resting on his thighs, Richard crouched in the belly of the beast.

  “Well?” Nicci asked from atop her horse.

  Richard stood beside a rib bone that towered to well over twice his height. He shielded his eyes against the golden sunlight as he briefly scanned the empty horizon behind himself. He looked back at Nicci, her hair honeyed by the low sun.

  “I’d say it was a dragon.”

  When her mare began to dance sideways, trying to put distance between itself and the expanse of bones, Nicci took the slack out of the reins.

  “Dragon,” she repeated in a flat voice.

  Here and there dried scraps of meat stuck to the bones. Richard swished a hand at the cloud of flies buzzing around him. The faint stench of decay hung over the site. As he stepped out of the cage of giant rib bones standing belly-up, he gestured toward the head, nestled in a bed of brown grass. There was enough room to walk between the ribs without them touching his shoulders.

  “I recognize the teeth. I had a dragon’s tooth, once.”

  Nicci looked skeptical. “Well, whatever it is, if you’ve seen enough, let’s be on our way.”

  Richard brushed his hands clean. The stallion snorted and stepped away from him when he approached. The horse didn’t like the smell of death, and didn’t trust Richard after having been near it. Richard stroked the glossy black neck.

  “Steady, Boy,” he said in a comforting voice. “Easy now.”

  When she saw Richard finally mount up, Nicci turned her dappled mare and started off once more. The late-afternoon light cast long, clawed shadows of the rib bones toward him, as if reaching out, calling him back to the ghost of some terrible end. He glanced back over his shoulder at the length of the skeletal remains, stretched out in the middle of an empty, gently rolling grassland, before urging his stallion into a trot to catch up with Nicci. His horse needed little encouragement to be away from the dying place, and happily sprang into his easy loping gallop, instead.

  In the month or so Richard had spent with the horse, the two of them had become used to each other. The horse was willing enough, but never really friendly. Richard wasn’t interested enough to go to the effort of doing more; making friends with a horse was just about the last of his concerns. Nicci hadn’t known if the horses had names, and didn’t seem interested in naming animals, so Richard simply called the black stallion “Boy,” and Nicci’s dappled gray mare “Girl,” and left it at that. Nicci seemed neither pleased or displeased about him naming the horses; she simply went along with his convention.

  “Do you actually believe it’s the remains of a dragon?” Nicci asked when he caught up with her.

  The stallion slowed and, glad to be back in the herd, gave the mare’s flanks a nuzzle. Girl merely turned her closest ear toward him in recognition.

  “It’s about the right size, as I remember.”

  Nicci tossed her head to flick her hair back over her shoulder. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  Richard frowned his puzzlement. “You saw it. What else could it possibly be?”

  She conceded with a sigh. “I just thought it was the bones of some long-extinct beast.”

  “With flies still buzzing around it? It still had a few bits of sinew dried to the bones. It’s not some ancient thing. It couldn’t be much older than six months—possibly much less.”

  She was watching him from the corner of her eye, again. “So, they really do have dragons in the New World?”

  “In the Midlands, anyway. Where I grew up there were none. Dragons, as I understand it, have magic. There was no magic in Westland. When I came here I…saw a red dragon. From what I heard, they’re very rare.”

  And now there was at least one less.

  Nicci was little concerned about the remains of an animal, even if it was a dragon. Richard had long ago decided that, as much as he lusted to crush her skull, he would have a better chance of figuring a way out of his situation if he didn’t antagonize her. Battling another person sapped your own strength, making it more difficult to reason your way out of the trouble. He kept his mind focused on what was most important to him.

  He couldn’t force himself to pretend to befriend Nicci, but he tried to give her no cause to become angry enough to hurt Kahlan. So far, it had been successful. Nicci didn’t seem easily inclined to anger, anyway. When she became displeased, she submerged back into an indifference which seemed to smother her distant rancor.

  They finally reached the road from where they had spotted the white speck that had turned out to be the remains of the dragon.

  “What was it like growing up in a place with no magic?”

  Richard shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s just the way it was. It was normal.”

  “And you were happy? Growing up without magic, I mean?”

  “Yes. Very happy.” The frown returned to his face. “Why?”

  “And yet, you fight to keep magic in the world, so other children will have to grow up with it. Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Order wishes to rid the world of magic, so that people can grow up happy, without the poisonous fog of magic always outside their door.” She glanced over at him. “They want children to grow up much like you did. And yet you fight this.”

  It was not a question, so Richard chose not to turn it into one for her. What the Order chose to do was not his concern. He turned his thoughts to other things.

  They were traveling east-southeast on a road traversed by the odd trader. They had smiled and nodded at two that day. The road, as it took the easiest route across the rolling hills, had that afternoon begun to turn more to the south. As they crested a rise, Richard spotted a flock of sheep in the far distance. Not far ahead, they had been told, was a town where they could pick up some needed provisions. The horses could use some grain, too.

  Over his left shoulder, to the northeast, snowcapped mountains turning pink in the late sunlight rose up out of the foothills. To his right, the ground rolled off into the wilds. Beyond the town, it wouldn’t be too far until they crossed the Kern River. They were not far at all from what used to be the wasteland where the great barrier had stood.

  They were close to cutting south into the Old World.

  Even though there was no longer a barrier to prevent his return once they crossed over, he felt downhearted about leaving the New World. It was like leaving Kahlan’s world. Like leaving her by one more degree. As fiercely as he loved her, he could feel her slipping farther and farther into the distance.

  Nicci’s blond hair fluttered in the breeze as she turned toward him. “It’s said they used to have dragons in the Old World, too.”

  Richard brought himself out of his brooding.

  “But no more?” he asked. She shook her head. “How long ago was that?”

  “Long a
go. No one living has ever seen one—and that includes Sisters living at the palace.”

  He thought about it as he rode, listening to the rhythmic clop of hooves. Nicci had proven forthcoming, so he asked, “Do you know why not?”

  “I can only tell you what was taught to me, if you would like to hear it.” When Richard nodded, she went on. “During the great war, at the time when the barrier between the Old and New Worlds was raised, the wizards in the Old World worked toward revoking magic from the world. Dragons could not exist without magic, so they went extinct.”

  “But they still existed here.”

  “On the other side of the barrier. It may be that the old wizards’ suppression of magic, on their side, had only a local, or even temporary, effect. After all, magic still exists, so obviously they failed to achieve their ends.”

  Richard was getting an uneasy feeling as he considered both Nicci’s words and the bones he had seen.

  “Nicci, may I ask you a question, a serious question, about magic?”

  She gazed over at him as she slowed her horse to an easy walk. “What is it you wish to know?”

  “How long do you think a dragon could exist without magic?”

  Nicci considered his question for a moment, but in the end let out a sigh. “I only know about the history of the dragons in the Old World as it was taught. As you know, words written that long ago are not always dependable. It would only be an educated guess. I would say it could be mere moments, possibly days—or even longer, but not a great deal longer. It’s a much simplified version of asking how long a fish could live out of water. Why do you ask?”

  Richard raked his fingers back through his hair. “When the chimes were here, in this world, they drew away magic. All of the magic, or nearly all, anyway, was withdrawn from the world of life for a time.”

  She turned her eyes back to the road. “My estimation is that the withdrawal was total, for a time, at least.”

  That was what he had feared. Richard considered her words along with what he knew. “Not all creatures of magic depend on it. Us, for example; we are, in a way, creatures of magic, but we can live without it, too. I’m wondering if creatures that depended on magic for their very existence might not have made it through until the chimes were banished and magic was restored to the world of life.”

  “Magic was not restored.”

  Richard pulled his horse up short. “What?”

  “Not in the way you are thinking about it.” Nicci circled around to face him. “Richard, while I have no direct knowledge with precisely what happened, such an event could not be without consequence.”

  “Tell me what you know.”

  She frowned in curiosity. “Why do you look so concerned?”

  “Nicci, please, just tell me what you know?”

  She folded her wrists over the horn of her saddle.

  “Richard, magic is a complex matter, so there can be no certainty.” She held up a hand to forestall his cascade of questions. “This much, though, is certain. The world doesn’t stay the same. It changes continuously.

  “Magic is not merely part of this world. Magic is the conduit between worlds. Do you understand?”

  He thought he might. “I accidentally used magic to call forth the spirit of my father from the underworld. I banished him back to the underworld with the use of magic. The Mud People, for example, use magic to communicate with their spirit ancestors beyond the veil in the underworld. I had to go to the Temple of the Winds, in another world, when Jagang sent a Sister there to start a plague which she brought back from that world.”

  “And what do all of those things have in common?”

  “They used magic to bridge the gap between worlds.”

  “Yes. But there is more. Those worlds exist, but they are dependent on this one to define them, are they not?”

  “You mean, like life is created into this world, and after death, souls are taken by the Keeper to the underworld?”

  “Yes. But more, do you see the connection?”

  Richard was getting lost. He hadn’t grown up knowing anything about magic. “We’re caught between the two realms?”

  “No, not exactly.” Her blue eyes flashed with intensity. She waited until his gaze steadied on hers, then she held up a finger to mark the importance of her words.

  “Magic is a conduit between worlds. As magic diminishes, those other worlds are not just more distant to us, but the power of those worlds, in this world, diminishes. Do you see?”

  Richard was getting goose bumps. “You mean, the other worlds have less influence, like…like a child who has grown and his parents have less influence over him.”

  “Yes.” In the fading light her eyes seemed more blue than usual. “As the worlds grow more separate, it is something like a child growing and leaving home. But there is more to it, yet.”

  She leaned forward ever so slightly in her saddle. “You see, those other worlds can be said to exist only by their relationship to life—to this world.” At that moment, she seemed like nothing to him so much as what she really was: a one-hundred-and-eighty-year-old sorceress. “It might even be said,” she whispered in a voice that sounded like the shadows speaking, “that without magic to link those other worlds to this, those other worlds cease to exist.”

  Richard swallowed. “You mean, just as the child grows and leaves home, the parents become less important to his existence. When they eventually grow old and die, even though they were once vital and strongly linked to him, when they now cease to exist, he lives on without them.”

  “Exactly,” she hissed.

  “The world changes,” he said almost to himself. “The world doesn’t stay the same. That’s what Jagang wants. He wants magic, and those other worlds, to cease to exist so that he will have this one all for himself.”

  “No,” she said in a soft voice. “He wishes it not for himself, but for mankind.” Richard started to argue, but she cut him off. “I know Jagang. I’m telling you what he believes. He may enjoy the spoils, but in his heart, he believes he is doing this for mankind, not himself.”

  Richard didn’t really believe her, but he didn’t see any point in quarreling with her. Either way, because of the changes taking place, such creatures as dragons might have already become extinct. Those white bones could very well have been the remains of the last red dragon.

  “Because of events like the chimes, the world may already have irrevocably changed to a point where creatures of magic have died out,” she said as she stared out over the empty twilight. “In an evolving world such as I describe, magic, even such as ours, would soon die out, too. Do you see, now? Without that conduit to other worlds, worlds that may no longer exist, magic would not come into existence when offspring of the gifted are born.”

  One thing was sure: when the time came, he was going to make Nicci extinct.

  As they rode on, Richard gazed back over his shoulder at bones he could no longer see.

  It was well after dark when they rode into the town. When Richard inquired of a passerby, he was told that the town, Ripply, was named after the rippling foothills. It was a quiet place, off in a nearly forgotten corner of the Midlands, its back to what used to be the wasteland from where no one ever returned. Many of the people grew wheat and raised sheep to provide themselves with trade goods, while keeping small animals and gardens for themselves.

  There was a road coming in from the southwest, from Renwold, and other roads going off to the north. Ripply was a crossroads for trade between Renwold, the people of the wilds who traded at that outpost city, and villages to the north and east. Now, of course, Renwold was gone; the Imperial Order had sacked the city. Now, with only ghosts inhabiting the streets of Renwold, the people of the wilds who traded their goods there would suffer. The people from the towns and villages who came to Ripply would suffer, too; Ripply was falling on hard times.

  Richard and Nicci created a small sensation. Strangers traveling through had become a sporadic event, what with Re
nwold gone. The two of them were tired, and there was an inn, but raucous drinking was going on there, and Richard didn’t want to have to deal with that kind of trouble. There was a well-kept stable at the other end of town from the inn, and the man who owned it offered to let them stay in the hayloft for a silver penny each. The night was cold, and it would be warmer in the hayloft out of the wind, so Richard paid the man the penny each for themselves, and three more for the horses to be cared for and fed. The taciturn stable owner was so pleased with the extra penny for the horses that he told Richard he would tend their shoes while he had them.

  When Richard thanked him and told him they were tired, the man smiled for the first time and said, “I’ll be seeing to your horses, then. I hope you and your wife sleep well. Good night, then.”

  Richard followed Nicci up the rough wooden ladder at the back of the barn. They had a cold dinner sitting in the hay as they listened to the stable owner fetching grain and water for their horses. Richard and Nicci had only the bare bones of necessary conversation before they rolled themselves up in their cloaks and went to sleep. When they woke a little after dawn, they discovered a small gathering of skinny children and hollow-cheeked adults, come to see the “rich” folks traveling through. Apparently, their horses, better than any that had boarded at the stable in a long time, had been the source of gossip and speculation.

  When Richard greeted the people, he got back only vacant looks. When he and Nicci walked to the supply store, not far away past a few drab buildings, the people all followed, as if it were a king and queen come to town, and they all wanted to see what such highborn people did with their day. Goats and chickens wandering Ripply’s main street scattered before the procession. A milk cow cropping brown grass behind the leather shop paused for a look. A rooster atop a stump flapped his wings in annoyance.

  When the bolder children asked who they were, Nicci told them that they were only travelers, husband and wife, looking for work. Such news was greeted with skeptical tittering. In her fine black dress, the people took Nicci for a queen looking for a kingdom. They thought only a little less of Richard.