Cities, even before the troops arrived, would be in a destructive panic. When the enemy troops arrived, most people would be burned out of their homes, driven from their cities and their land. Jagang would steal all supplies of food for his troops and give conquered land to his favored elite. The true owners of that land would perish, or become slaves working their own farms. Those who escaped before the invading horde would desperately cling to life, living like animals in wild areas.
Most of the population would be in flight, running for their lives. Hundreds of thousands would be out in the elements without shelter. There would be little food, and no ability to prepare for winter. When the weather turned harsh, they would perish in droves.
As civilization crumbled and starvation became the norm, disease would sweep across the land, catching up those on the run. Families would collapse as those they depended on suffered agonizingly slow and painful deaths. Children and the weak would be alone, to be preyed upon as a source of food for the starving.
Kahlan knew what such widespread disease was like. She knew what it was to watch people dying by the thousands. She had seen it happen in Aydindril when the plague was there. She saw scores stricken without warning. She had watched the old, the young—such good people—contract something they could not fight, watched them suffer in misery for days before they died.
Richard had been stricken with that plague. Unlike everyone else, though, he had gotten it knowingly. Taking the plague deliberately had been the price to get back to her. He had traded his life just to be with her again before he died.
That had been a time beyond horror.
Kahlan knew, firsthand, savage desperation. It was then that she had taken the only chance available to her to save his life. It was then that she had loosed the chimes. That act had saved Richard’s life. She hadn’t known at the time that it would also be a catalyst that would set unforeseen events into motion.
Because of her desperate act, the boundary to this empire had lost its power and failed. Because of her, all magic might eventually fail.
Now, because of that boundary failing, the Wizard’s Keep, their last bastion to work a solution against the Order, was in terrible jeopardy.
Kahlan felt as if it was all her fault.
The world was on the brink of destruction. Civilization stood at the threshold of obliteration in the name of the Order’s mindless idea of a greater good. The Order demanded sacrifice to that greater good; what they were determined to sacrifice was reason, and, therefore, civilization itself. Madness had cast its shadow across the world and would have them all.
They now stood in the edge of the shadow of a dark age. They were all on the eve of the end times.
Kahlan couldn’t say that, though. She couldn’t tell them how she felt. She dared not reveal her despair.
“Richard, we simply can’t allow the Order to capture the Keep.” Kahlan could hardly believe how calm and determined her voice sounded. She wondered if anyone else would believe that she thought they still stood a chance. “We have to stop them.”
“I agree,” Richard said.
He sounded determined, too. She wondered if he saw in her eyes the true depths of her despair.
“First,” he said, “the easy part: Nicci and Victor. We have to tell them that we can’t come now. Victor needs to know what we would say to him. He will need to know that we agree with his plans—that he must proceed and that he can’t wait for us. We’ve talked with him; he knows what to do. Now, he must do it, and Priska must know that he has to help.
“Nicci needs to know where we’re going. She needs to know that we believe we’ve discovered the cause of the warning beacon. She has to know where we are.”
He left unsaid that she had to come to help him if he couldn’t get to her because his gift was killing him.
“She needs to know, too,” Richard said, “that we only had a chance to read part of her warning about what Jagang was doing with the Sisters of the Dark in creating weapons out of people.”
Everyone’s eyes widened. They hadn’t read the letter.
“Well,” Kahlan said, “with all the other problems we have, at least that’s one we won’t have to deal with for now.”
“We have that much on our side,” Richard agreed. He gestured to the man watching, the man waiting for Kahlan to command him. “We’ll send him to Victor and Nicci so they will know everything.”
“And then what?” Cara asked.
“I want Kahlan to command him that when he’s finished with carrying out that part of his orders, he’s then to go north and find the Imperial Order army. I want him to pretend to be one of them to get close enough to assassinate Emperor Jagang.”
Kahlan knew how implausible such a scheme was. By the way everyone stared in astonishment, they had a good idea, too.
“Jagang has layers of men to protect him from assassination,” Jennsen said. “He’s always surrounded by special guards. Regular soldiers can’t even get close to him.”
“Do you really think he has any chance at all to accomplish such a thing?” Kahlan asked.
“No,” Richard admitted. “The Order will most likely kill him before he can get to Jagang. But he will be driven by the need to fulfill your orders. He will be single-minded. I expect he will be killed in the effort, but I also suspect he will at least make a good attempt of it. I want Jagang to at least lose some sleep knowing that any of his men might be assassins. I want him to worry that he will never know who might be trying to kill him. I don’t want him ever to be able to sleep soundly. I want him to be haunted by nightmares of what might be coming next, of who among his men might be waiting for an opening.”
Kahlan nodded her agreement. Richard appraised the grim faces waiting for the rest of what he had to say.
“Now, to the most important part of what must be done. It’s vital we get to the Keep and warn Zedd. We can’t delay. Jagang is ahead of us in all this—he’s been planning and acting and we never realized what he was up to. We don’t know how soon those ungifted men might be sent north. We haven’t a moment to lose.”
“Lord Rahl,” Cara reminded him, “you have to get to the antidote before time runs out. You can’t go running off to the Keep to…Oh, no. Now you just wait a minute—you’re not sending me to the Keep again. I’m not leaving you at a time like this, at a time when you’re next to defenseless. I won’t hear of it and I won’t go.”
Richard laid a hand on her shoulder. “Cara, I’m not sending you, but thanks for offering.”
Cara folded her arms and shot him a fiery scowl.
“We can’t take the wagon up into Bandakar—there’s no road—”
“Lord Rahl,” Tom interrupted, “without magic you’ll need all the steel you have.” He sounded only slightly less emphatic than Cara had.
Richard smiled. “I know, Tom, and I agree. It’s Friedrich who I think must go.” Richard turned to Friedrich. “You can take the wagon. An older man, by himself, will raise less suspicion than would any of the rest of us. They won’t see you as a threat. You will be able to make better time with the wagon and without having to worry that the Order might snatch you and put you in the army. Will you do it, Friedrich?”
Friedrich scratched his stubble. A smile came to his weathered face. “I guess I’m at last being called upon to be a boundary warden, of sorts.”
Richard smiled with him. “Friedrich, the boundary has failed. As the Lord Rahl, I appoint you to the post of boundary warden and ask that you immediately undertake to warn others of the danger come from out of that boundary.”
Friedrich’s smile departed as he put a fist to his heart in salute and solemn pledge.
Chapter 26
Somewhere back in a distant room, where his body waited, Nicholas heard an insistent noise. He was absorbed in the task at hand, so he ignored the sound. The light was fading, and although light helped to see, darkness would not hinder eyes such as he used.
Again, he heard the noise. Indignant th
at the sound kept calling him, kept annoying him, kept demanding his attention, he returned to his body.
Someone was banging a fist on the door.
Nicholas rose from the floor, where his body sat cross-legged, taking his body with him. It was always, at first, disorienting to have to be in his body again, to be so limited, so confined. It felt awkward to have to move it about, to use his own muscles, to breathe, to see, to hear with his own senses.
The knock came again. Irate at the interruption, Nicholas went not to the door but to the windows, and threw the shutters closed. He cast a hand out, igniting the torch, and finally stalked to the door. Layered strips of cloth covering his robes flowed out behind, like a heavy mantle of black feathers.
“What is it!” He threw open the heavy door and peered out.
Najari stood just outside, in the hall, his weight on one foot, his thumbs hooked behind his belt. His muscular shoulders nearly touched the walls to each side. Nicholas saw, then, the huddled crowd behind the man. Najari’s crooked nose, flattened to the left in some of the numerous brawls his temper got him into, cast an oddly shaped shadow across his cheek. Anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves in a brawl with Najari usually suffered far worse than a mere broken nose.
Najari waggled a thumb over his shoulder. “You asked for some guests, Nicholas.”
Nicholas raked his nails back through his hair, feeling the silken smooth pleasure of oils gliding against his palm. He rolled his shoulders, ruffling away his pique.
Nicholas had been so absorbed in what he had been doing that he had forgotten that he had requested that Najari bring him some bodies.
“Very good, Najari. Bring them in, then. Let’s have a look at them.”
Nicholas watched as the commander led the gaggle of people into the flickering torchlight. Soldiers in the rear herded the stragglers through the door and into the large room. Heads swiveled around, looking at the strange, stark surroundings, at the wooden walls, the torches in brackets, the plank flooring, the lack of furniture other than a stout table. Noses twitched at the sharp smell of blood.
Nicholas watched carefully as people spotted the sharpened stakes standing in a line along the wall to their right, stakes as thick as Najari’s wrists.
Nicholas studied the people, watching for the telltales of fear as they spread out along the wall beside the door. Eyes flitted about, worried, and at the same time eager to take it all in so they could report to their friends what they had seen inside. Nicholas knew that he was an object of great curiosity.
A rare being.
A Slide.
No one knew what his name meant. This day, some would learn.
Nicholas glided past the undulating mob. They were a curious people, these odd, ungifted creatures, curious like mockingbirds, but not nearly so bold. Because they were without any spark whatsoever of the gift, Nicholas had to handle them in special ways in order for them to be of any use to him. It was a bother, but it had its rewards.
Some necks craned in his wake, trying to better see the rare man. He ran his nails through his hair again just to feel the oils slide against his hand. As he leaned close to some of the people he passed, observing individuals in the gathering, one of the women before him closed her eyes, turning her face away. Nicholas lifted a hand toward her, flicking out a finger. He glanced to Najari to be sure he saw which one had been picked.
Najari’s gaze flicked from the woman up to Nicholas; he had noted the selection.
A man back against the wall stood stiff, his eyes wide. Nicholas flicked a finger at him. Another man twisted his lips in an odd manner. Nicholas glanced down and saw that the man, in a state of wild fright, had wet himself. Nicholas’s finger flitted out again. Three selected. Nicholas walked on.
A thin whine escaped the throat of a woman in the front, right before him. He smiled at her. She peered up, trembling, unable to take her wide-eyed gaze from him, from his red-rimmed black eyes, unable to halt the puling sound escaping her throat. She had never seen one so human…yet not. Nicholas tapped her shoulder with a long-nailed finger. He would reward her unspoken revulsion with service to a greater good. His.
Jagang had sought to create something…unusual, for himself. A bauble of flesh and blood. A magical trinket crafted from a wizard. A lapdog…with teeth.
His Excellency had gotten what he wanted, and more. Oh, so much more.
Nicholas would enjoy seeing how the emperor liked having a puppet without strings, a specially crafted creation with a mind of its own, and talents to fulfill his wishes.
A man at the rear, against the wall, appeared to be somewhat uninterested, as if impatient for the exhibition to be over so he could go back to his own affairs. While none of these people could be said to think of themselves as important individuals with consequential sway over any meaningful aspects of life in their empire, a few occasionally exhibited tendencies, even if inconsistent, toward self-interest. Nicholas flicked his finger for the fifth time. The man would soon have reason to be highly interested in the proceedings, and he would find that he was no better than anyone else. He would be going nowhere—at least not in body.
Everyone stared in silence as Nicholas chuckled alone at his own joke.
His amusement ended. Nicholas tipped his head toward the door in a single nod. The soldiers jumped into action.
“All right,” Najari growled, “move along. Move! Get going. Out, out, out!”
The feet of the crowd shuffled urgently through the door as ordered. Some people cast worried glances back over their shoulders at the five Najari had cut out of the flock. Those five were shoved back when they sought to stay with the rest. A stiff finger to the chest backed them up as effectively as would a club or a sword.
“Don’t cause any trouble,” Najari warned, “or you will be making trouble for the others.”
The five remaining huddled close to one another, rocking nervously side to side like a covey of quail before a bird dog.
When the soldiers had driven the rest of the people out, Najari closed the door and stood before it, hands clasped behind his back.
Nicholas returned to the windows, opening the shutters on the west wall. The sun was down, leaving a red slash across the sky.
Soon they would be on the wing, on the hunt.
Nicholas would be with them.
Casting an arm back without needing to turn to look, he doused the torch. The flickering light was a distraction during this cusp of time, the transient twilight that was so fragile, so brief. He would need the light, but, at the moment, he wanted only to see the sky, to see the glorious, unbounded sky.
“Are we going to be able to leave soon?” one of the people asked in a timid squeak.
Nicholas turned and peered at them. Najari’s eyes revealed which one had spoken. Nicholas followed his commander’s gaze. It was one of the men—the one who had been impatient to leave, of course.
“Go?” Nicholas asked as he swept in close to the man. “You wish to go?”
The man stood with his back bent, leaning away from Nicholas. “Well, sir, I was only wondering when we would be going.”
Nicholas stooped in even more, peering deeply into the man’s eyes. “Wonder in silence,” he hissed.
Returning to the windows, Nicholas rested his hands on the sill, his weight on his arms, as he breathed in deeply the gathering night while taking in the sweep of crimson sky.
Soon, he would be there, be free.
Soon, he would soar as no one else but he could.
Impulsively, he sought them.
Eyes bulging with the effort, he cast his senses where none but his could go.
“There!” he screeched, throwing his arm out, pointing a long black nail at what none but he could see. “There! One has taken to wing.”
Nicholas spun around, strips of cloth lifting, floating up. Panting through a rush of fluttering excitement, he gazed at the eyes staring at him. They could not know. They could not understand one such as he, unders
tand what he felt, what he needed. He hungered to be on the hunt, to be with them, ever since he had imagined such a use for his ability.
He had reveled in the experience, dedicating himself to it as he learned his new abilities. He had been off with those glorious creatures as often as he could afford the time, ever since he had come here and discovered them.
How ironic it now seemed that he had resisted. How odd that he once had feared what those gruesome women, those Sisters of the Dark, had conspired to do to him…what they had done to him.
His duty, they had called it.
Their vile magic had cut like a red-hot blade through him. He had thought his eyes might burst from his head from the pain that had seared through him. Tied spread-eagled to stakes in the ground in the center of their wicked circle, he had dreaded what they were going to do to him.
He had feared it.
Nicholas smiled.
Hated it, even.
He had been afraid because of the pain, the pain of what they were doing to him, and the even greater pain of not knowing what more they intended to do to him. His duty, they had called it, to a greater good. His ability bore responsibilities, they had insisted.
He watched through glazed eyes as Najari bound the hands of the five people behind each of their backs.
“Thank you, Najari,” he said when the man had finished.
Najari approached. “The men will have them by now, Nicholas. I told them to send enough men to insure that they would not escape.” Najari grinned at the prospect. “There’s no need to worry. They should all be on their way back to us.”
Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “We will see. We will see.”
He wanted to see it himself. With his own vision—even if his own vision was through another’s eyes.
Najari yawned on his way to the door. “See you tomorrow, then, Nicholas.”
Nicholas opened his mouth wide, mimicking the yawn, even though he didn’t yawn. It felt good to stretch his jaws wide. Sometimes he felt trapped inside himself and he wanted out.
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