Chainfire

by Terry Goodkind

  He turned and frantically searched the spines of the books stacked all over the tables. He finally found what he wanted in the middle of a pile and yanked it out, letting the rest of the stack topple over. He hurriedly leafed through the book, muttering to himself as he searched.

  “Here it is,” he said as he pressed a finger to a page. “There are any number of prophecies down here that I’ve found in books I’ve never seen before. These prophecies surrounding the final battle are veiled to me—I cannot see them in visions—but the words are frightening enough. This one sums them up as clearly as any.”

  He bent close and in the candlelight read to her from the book. “‘In the year of the cicadas, when the champion of sacrifice and suffering, under the banner of both mankind and the Light, finally splits his swarm, thus shall be the sign that prophecy has been awakened and the final and deciding battle is upon us. Be cautioned, for all true forks and their derivatives are tangled in this mantic root. Only one trunk branches from this conjoined primal origin. If fuer grissa ost drauka does not lead this final battle, then the world, already standing at the brink of darkness, will fall under that terrible shadow.’”

  Fuer grissa ost drauka was one of the prophetic names for Richard. It was from a well-known prophecy in the ancient language of High D’Haran. Its translation was the bringer of death. To here call him by that name in this prophecy was a means of linking the two prophecies in a conjugate fork.

  “If the cicadas should come this year,” Nathan said, “then that will verify that this prophecy is not just authentic but active.”

  Ann’s knees felt weak. “The cicadas began to emerge today.”

  Nathan stared down at her like the Creator Himself pronouncing judgment. “Then the chronology is fixed. The prophecies have all tumbled into place. Events are marked. The end is upon us.”

  “Dear Creator protect us,” Ann whispered.

  Nathan slipped the book into his pocket. “We must get to Richard.”

  She was already nodding. “Yes, you’re right. There is no time to lose.”

  Nathan glanced about. “We certainly can’t take all these books with us and there is no time to read them. We must seal this place back up, like it was, and leave immediately.”

  Before Ann could add her agreement, Nathan swept out an arm. The candles all extinguished. Only the lantern on the corner of one of the tables remained lit. On his way past, he swept it up in his big hand.

  “Come on,” he said.

  Ann scurried to catch up with him, trying to stay in the small circle of light now that the odd room had been plunged into darkness. “Are you sure that we shouldn’t take any of these books?”

  The prophet rushed into the narrow stairwell, the light funneling in with him. “We can’t be slowed down to carry them. Besides, which would we take?” He paused momentarily to look back over his shoulder. His face was all angles and sharp lines in the harsh lanternlight. “We already know what prophecy says and now, for the first time, we know the chronology. We must get to Richard. He has to be there at the battle when the armies clash or all will be lost.”

  “Yes, and we will have to make sure that he is there to complete the word of prophecy.”

  “We are in agreement, then,” he said as he turned and rushed onward up the stairs. The tunneled stairwell was so narrow and low that he had trouble making his way up.

  At the top, they burst out into the night, to the shrill, buzzing song of the cicadas. Nathan called out for Tom and Jennsen. The trees gently swayed in the humid breeze as they waited for an answer. It seemed an eternity, but it was really only a moment before both Tom and Jennsen came running out of the darkness.

  “What is it?” Jennsen asked, breathlessly.

  The dark shadow of Tom towered at her side. “Is there trouble?”

  “Grave trouble,” Nathan confirmed.

  Ann thought that he might be a little more discreet about it, but as serious as the situation was, discretion probably was pointless. He pulled the book he had taken from the library out of his pocket. He opened it to a blank page where prophecy was missing.

  “Tell me what this says.” he commanded, holding it out to Jennsen.

  She frowned at him. “What it says? Nathan, it’s blank.”

  He grumbled his discontent. “That means Subtractive was somehow involved. Subtractive is underworld magic, the power of death, so it affects her the same as us.”

  Nathan turned back to Jennsen. “We have found prophecy that pertains to Richard. We must find him or Jagang will win the war.”

  Jennsen gasped. Tom let out a low whistle.

  “Do you know where he is?” Nathan asked.

  Without hesitation, Tom turned a little and lifted an arm to point off into the night. His bond told him what their gift could not. “He is that way. Not a great distance, but not close, either.”

  Ann peered into the darkness. “We’ll have to get our things together and be on our way at first light.”

  “He’s on the move,” Tom said. “I doubt you will find him there in that spot by the time you get there.”

  Nathan cursed under his breath. “There’s no telling where that boy is heading.”

  “I’d guess that he is headed back to Altur’Rang,” Ann said.

  “Yes, but what if he doesn’t stay there?” He laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “We will need you to come with us. You are one of the covert protectors to the Lord Rahl. This is important.”

  Ann saw Tom’s hand gripped tightly around the knife at his belt. The silver hilt of that knife was emblazoned with the ornate letter “R,” standing for the House of Rahl. It was a rare knife carried by rare individuals who worked unseen to protect the life of the Lord Rahl.

  “Of course,” Tom said.

  “I’ll come as well,” Jennsen added in a rush. “I only have to get—”

  “No,” Nathan said, silencing her. “We need you to stay here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Ann said in a more sympathetic tone than Nathan had used, “you are Richard’s link with these people. They are in need of help in understanding the wider world only just opened to them. They are vulnerable to the Imperial Order and vulnerable to being used against us. They have only just made the choice to be part of our cause and part of the D’Haran Empire. Richard needs you to be here for now, and right now Tom’s place is with us and his duty to Richard.”

  With panic in her eyes, she looked to Tom. “But I—”

  “Jennsen,” Nathan said, his arm encircling her shoulders, “look there.” He pointed down the stairwell. “You know what’s down there. If anything happens to us, Richard may need to know as well. You must be here to guard this place for him. This is important—just as important as Tom coming with us. We’re not trying to spare you danger; this may in fact be more dangerous than going with us.”

  Jennsen looked from Nathan’s eyes to Ann’s and reluctantly recognized how serious the situation was. “If you think Richard might need me here, then I must stay.”

  Ann touched her fingertips to the underside of the young woman’s chin. “Thank you, child, for understanding the importance of this.”

  “We must close this place up, like it was when I found it,” Nathan said, swirling his arms with his urgency. “I’ll show you the mechanism and how to make it function. Then we must get back to town and gather our things. We will only be able to snatch a few hours’ sleep before sunrise, but it can’t be helped.”

  “It’s a long walk out of Bandakar,” Tom said. “After we’re over the mountain pass we’ll have to find some horses if we’re to catch Lord Rahl.”

  “It’s decided then,” the prophet said. “Let’s get this tomb closed back up and be on our way.”

  Ann frowned. “Nathan, this cache of books has been hidden under this gravestone for thousands of years. In all that time no one has ever discovered it was there. Just how did you manage to find it?”

  Nathan lifted an eyebrow. “Actually, I d
idn’t think it was all that difficult.”

  He stepped around to the front of the huge stone monument and waited for Ann to come closer. Once she had, he held up his lantern.

  There, carved into the face of the ancient stone were but two words: NATHAN RAHL.

  Chapter 13

  It was late afternoon by the time Victor, Nicci, Cara, and Richard passed through the long shadows among the olive groves covering the southern hills outside of Altur’Rang. Richard had never eased the pace and they were all tired from the arduous, if relatively short, journey. The chill rain had moved on, pushed away by the oppressive weight of heat and humidity. With as much as they were all sweating, it might as well have still been raining.

  Even though he was bone-weary, Richard felt better than he had only a couple of days before. Despite the exertion, his strength was gradually returning.

  He was also relieved that they had seen no sign of the beast. Several times he had let the others go on while he checked their backtrail to see if they were being followed. He had never seen any sign of anyone or anything following behind them and so he was starting to breathe a little easier. He also had to consider the possibility that Nicci’s information about Jagang creating such a monster was not the explanation for what had killed Victor’s men. Even if, as Nicci said, Jagang had succeeded in creating such a beast, that didn’t mean that it was the explanation for the violent and deadly attack or even that this beast had yet begun to hunt Richard. But if that wasn’t it, then he couldn’t even begin to imagine what it could have been.

  Carts, wagons, and people moved at a brisk pace along the crowded roads around the city. Commerce seemed to be flourishing even more than the last time Richard had been in Altur’Rang. Some of the people recognized Victor, and some Nicci. Since the revolt, both of them had played important roles in Altur’Rang. A good number of the people recognized Richard, either because they had been there the night the revolution for their liberty had begun, or because they recognized his sword. It was a unique weapon and the polished silver and gold scabbard was hard to miss, especially in the Old World under the drab rule of the Order.

  People smiled at the four of them as they passed, or tipped a hat, or gave them a friendly nod. Cara eyed every passing smile with suspicion.

  Richard would have been pleased to see the emerging vitality in Altur’Rang had his mind not been on things far more important to him. And to deal with those important matters, he needed horses. Since it was so late in the day, it would be dark before he could hope to have horses and supplies collected and ready for a journey. He was reluctantly reconciled to spending the night in Altur’Rang.

  Many of the people on the bustling country lanes and roads around the city seemed to be traveling to and from nearby towns, or possibly even places much farther. Whereas people once came to the city in the desperate hope of finding work at building the emperor’s palace, they now arrived filled with optimism that they would be able to find a new life, a free life.

  Every one of the people traveling away from the city, besides carrying goods for trade, also carried word of the profound changes since the revolt. They were an army carrying the bright shining weapon of an idea. In Altur’Rang they no longer had to mold their lives around their fear of the Order; they could now shape their lives to their own needs and aspirations made possible by personal liberty and their own enterprise. They owed their lives to no one. Swords could enforce tyranny, but only if it relentlessly crushed such ideas.

  Ultimately, only brutality could enforce the irrationality and dead end of self-sacrifice.

  That was why the Order would have to send its most savage troops to crush the very idea of liberty. If they didn’t, then liberty would spread and people would prosper. If that came to be, then liberty would triumph.

  Richard noticed that new market stands seemed to have sprung up at junctions of what had once been little more than rutted paths and lanes but were now active byways. The stands sold goods of every sort, from a variety of vegetables to stacks of firewood to rows of jewelry. Merchants at the outskirts of the city eagerly offered travelers a variety of cheeses, sausages, and breads. Closer to the city, people milled about, scrutinizing bolts of cloth or inspecting the quality of an array of leather goods.

  Richard remembered how when Nicci had first brought him to Altur’Rang they’d had to stand in lines all day for a loaf of bread and often the store would run out before they ever got anywhere near the front of the line. So that everyone could afford bread, bakeries had been strictly regulated and prices had been fixed by a whole variety of committees, boards, and layers of ordinances. No consideration was given to the cost of ingredients or labor, only to what was judged to be the price people could afford to pay. The price of bread had seemed cheap, but there was never enough bread, nor any other foodstuff. Richard considered it a perversion of logic to call something unavailable inexpensive. Laws that the hungry be fed had only resulted in widespread hunger haunting the streets and dark homes of the city. The true cost of the altruistic ideas that spawned such laws was starvation and death. Those who championed the lofty notions of the Order were indignantly blind to the endless misery and death they caused.

  Now, at stands on almost every corner, bread was plentiful and starvation looked to have receded into nothing more than a horrific memory. It was amazing to see how freedom had made everything so plentiful. It was amazing to see so many people in Altur’Rang smiling.

  The revolt had been opposed by a good number of people who supported the Imperial Order, who wanted things to continue the way they were. There were many who believed that people were wicked and deserved no more out of their lives than misery. Such people believed that happiness and accomplishment were sinful, that individuals, on their own, could not make their own lives better without causing harm to others. Such people scorned the very idea of individual liberty.

  For the most part, those people had been defeated—either killed in the fighting or driven away. Those who had fought for and won their liberty had fierce reasons to value it. Richard hoped that they would have the will to hang on to what they had won.

  As they passed into the older sections of the city, he noticed that many of the dingy brick buildings had been cleaned so that they almost looked new. Shutters were painted bright colors that actually looked cheerful in the hazy, late-afternoon sun. A number of the buildings that had been burned down in the revolt were already being rebuilt. Richard thought it a wonder, after the way it used to be, that Altur’Rang could look cheerful. It gave him a flutter of excitement to see a place so alive.

  He knew, too, that it was the simple, sincere happiness of people pursuing their own interests and living their lives for the sake of themselves that would draw the hate and wrath of some. The followers of the Order believed that mankind was inherently evil. Such people would stop at nothing to suffocate the blasphemy of happiness.

  As they turned onto a broader street that led deeper into the city, Victor came to a stop at a corner of major thoroughfares.

  “I need to go see Ferran’s family and the families of some of the other men. If it’s all right with you, Richard, I think I should speak with them alone, for now at least. The grief of sudden loss and important visitors are a confusing mix.”

  Richard felt awkward being viewed as an important visitor, especially to people who had just lost loved ones, but in the midst of such bad news it was not the time for him to try to soften that view.

  “I understand, Victor.”

  “But I was hoping that maybe later you could say some words to them. It would be a comfort if you told them how brave their men had been. Your words would honor their loved ones.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “There are others who will need to know that I’ve returned. They will be eager to see you.”

  Richard gestured to Cara and Nicci. “I want to show them something”—he pointed toward the center of the city—“down this way.”

  “You mean
Liberty Square?”

  Richard nodded.

  “Then I will meet you there as soon as I can manage it.”

  Richard briefly watched as Victor vanished down a narrow cobbled street to the right.

  “What do you want to show us?” Cara asked.

  “Something that I’m hoping may help jog your memory.”

  The first sight of the majestic statue carved from the finest white Cavatura marble, glowing in the amber light of the late-day sun, nearly buckled Richard’s knees.

  He knew every intimate curve of the figure, every fold of the flowing robes. He knew because he had carved the original.

  “Richard?” Nicci said as she clasped his arm. “Are you all right?”

  He could manage hardly more than a whisper as he stared at the statue off across the green sweep of lawns. “I’m fine.”

  The vast open expanse had been the site of the construction of the former palace that was to be the seat of rule for the Imperial Order. It had been where Nicci had brought Richard to toil for the greater glory of the cause of the Order in the hope that he would learn the importance of self-sacrifice and the corrupt nature of mankind. Instead, in the process, she had learned the value of life.

  But while he’d still been Nicci’s captive, he had worked for months in the construction of the emperor’s palace. That palace was gone, now, erased from the face of the ground. Only a semicircle of columns from the main entrance remained to stand watch around the proud statue in white marble that marked the place where the flame of freedom had first ignited in the heart of darkness.

  After the revolt against the rule of the Order, the statue had been carved and dedicated to the free people of Altur’Rang and the memory of those who had given their lives for that freedom. This place, where people had first spilled blood to gain their liberty, was now hallowed ground. Victor had named the place Liberty Square.

  Lit by the warm light of the low sun, the statue shone like a beacon.

  “What do you two see?” Richard asked.