Severed Souls

by Terry Goodkind

  Instead, she unwrapped an oiled cloth with dried meat, a chunk of hard sausage, and some salted fish. She guzzled water from a waterskin to wash down the first piece of fish. She wasn’t especially fond of dried meat, or salted fish, but right then it was a feast she savored. She was saving the flavorful smoked sausage for last.

  When she thought she heard a kind of soft murmuring, purring sound, she looked up. There, on top of the rock she was leaning against, she found herself looking into the big green eyes of a crouched creature. It hunkered silently, staring at her.

  CHAPTER

  32

  Kahlan’s chewing paused, her hand holding a piece of dried meat still halfway to her mouth.

  The animal was at least two or three times the size of a regular cat, with the same kind of almond-shaped eyes. In the moonlight she could see that its tan back was covered in darkly spotted fur becoming darker down toward its haunches and shoulders. It was broader than a typical cat, something like a wolverine or badger, with muscular shoulders, but it didn’t have the long nose or short legs of one of those animals. The head was more like that of a cougar, with a heavier brow. The fur was short as well.

  Whatever it was, she had never seen anything quite like it.

  Since the animal was sitting peacefully and wasn’t showing any signs of aggression, her initial alarm relaxed a bit. The fingers of her left hand, though, touched the handle of the knife sheathed at her belt, making sure the weapon was there and easy to get at quickly.

  The animal’s ears swiveled, tracking the smallest movement of her left hand as she checked that her knife was handy. The long, pointed ears had tufts of fur at the ends. It had whiskers something like a cat’s. Its legs looked considerably stockier than those of any cat she had ever seen. Its paws were disproportionately huge. A lot of animals had big feet or paws when they were immature and grew into them, making Kahlan think that the creature was possibly young. But that wasn’t always true, so she couldn’t be sure.

  The creature looked up at her with big green eyes and then looked down at the food she was holding. The eyes beneath a heavy brow had the same kind of vertical slit in the iris as a cat’s. It had an expressive face that almost told her what it was thinking, with the calm confidence in its own abilities that gave it a curious but relaxed posture. Its ears perked toward her. It apparently found her interesting and worthy of investigation.

  “You have green eyes like me,” she said softly.

  The creature purred louder at the sound of her voice and squeezed its eyes closed for a second. It looked at her again and then inched forward in a cautious crouch, trying to sniff the dried meat in her hand, judging the distance should it decide to lunge.

  Kahlan held up the piece. “Would you like one?”

  The animal looked up at her as if it understood her words. It clearly wanted the food, but it was also being cautious.

  So as not to frighten the creature, Kahlan stayed where she was as she slowly stretched her arm out to offer the piece of meat.

  The animal also stretched, leaning forward on its powerful-looking forelegs, its nose twitching as it smelled her hand all the way around. She could see the muscles rippling under the sleek fur of its shoulders. Satisfied, it then smelled the meat, and finally, carefully lifted the piece of the meat from her fingers. When it took the meat she saw that it had a broad mouth of long, needle-sharp, and quite formidable teeth.

  Watching her the whole time, it dragged the prize back a short distance and hunched over, gnawing at it very much the way a cat hunched over food as it ate.

  Kahlan used her teeth to tear off a piece of her own and chewed as she watched the animal, letting it know she was hungry, too. As happy as the creature was to take the handout, it certainly looked like it was getting enough to eat. By the looks of it, it was built for hunting. By its robust build, it was clearly successful at it.

  The dark spots on its back seemed to grow together the farther down they went along the side of the body and up onto the neck. The fur on the head, legs, and big paws was very dark. In the moonlight it was hard to tell if it was dark brown or black. Since the light-colored area on the back under the spots was tan, she guessed that it was probably dark brown. The one exception was the almost white tufts of hair at the points of its ears.

  When it finished, the animal looked up and started purring again, content where it was, not yet ready to leave.

  “Still hungry?” Kahlan asked with a smile as she offered it another piece. It took the second piece with equal care and withdrew a short distance to gnaw at the second prize.

  Kahlan drank water after another piece of salted fish. The animal watched out of the corner of an eye. Kahlan lifted her waterskin.

  “You thirsty, little one?”

  The creature just watched her with big green eyes. It seemed interested in everything she did, appraising every movement, its ears perked toward her.

  Kahlan poured some water into her cupped hand and held it out. The animal rose up a little and moved forward and crouched down to greedily lap at the water with a rough, catlike tongue. When it finished, Kahlan poured a second handful as it waited and watched. It drank most of the second handful, finally seeming satisfied.

  Kahlan offered it a third piece of meat. When it rose up and stepped forward she saw that it favored its front left paw.

  This time it stayed close as it gnawed the meat in two before swallowing down half of it. As it picked up the other half to gulp it down, it lifted its weight off its front left paw. It seemed less afraid after having the snack, so Kahlan cautiously reached out and with a single finger stroked the sable-soft fur on the foreleg that it held partially up off the rock.

  “Do you have something wrong with your foot, little one?”

  It backed away. Moving slowly and deliberately, Kahlan reached out toward the paw.

  “Can I take a look? Maybe I can help.”

  The animal stayed in place, tipping its head down, watching her hand as she gently lifted the paw. With her thumb, she stroked the top of the paw while slipping her fingers under the big, soft pads.

  She felt the sharp points of a burr lodged between the toes. The fur was wet where the animal had been licking at it, and probably trying to get it out with its teeth.

  “It would feel better if you would let me take that out for you. Would you let me?”

  She knew that the creature couldn’t understand her, but by the way it continued to purr she thought that maybe it found her soft voice comforting.

  Since the animal wasn’t going to come closer, she turned a little and got up on her knees so she could lean closer and see. With her one hand, she carefully spread the toes and saw the thorny burr lodged between the two of them.

  “That has to hurt to walk on. It’s not going to kill you, but why don’t you let me see if I can get it out,” she cooed. “It would feel better.”

  The thing watched her without showing any reaction, but she was well aware of how close that wide mouth full of teeth was to her face. Other than its thrumming purr, it was as silent as a cat when it moved.

  Not wanting the wicked-looking thorns stuck in her own fingers, Kahlan grabbed a nearby stick and bent it in half with the fingers of one hand to use as pincers. She leaned in on her elbows, holding the toes spread with one hand while she worked her thumb and finger on the stick with her other hand to start to pull the burr out. It was one of those small spheres with thorns all around and it was lodged tightly in place.

  The animal’s purr changed to a low, gurgling whimper as she rocked the burr, trying to pull it out. She hoped that what she was hearing wasn’t a growl. The burr was stuck fast.

  Its heavy brow drawing down, ears forward, the animal started pulling the paw back away from her grip on it.

  She looked up into green eyes only inches away from hers. “I need to pull it out, all right? Let me help you.”

  The animal tugged once but then stopped trying to take the paw back. Kahlan took that as consent. Desp
ite the frowning look, she was pretty sure that it understood she was trying to help. She pulled harder trying to draw the burr out. She could see the skin being tugged outward, stuck on the hooked tips of the thorns.

  The creature let out a soft wail of pain, but didn’t move, so she yanked. The thorn finally came out. Kahlan pressed a thumb over the bloody spot a moment to soften the sting.

  She held the thorn up to show the creature and distract it from the hurt. “See? It’s out now. All better.”

  As she let go of the paw, the animal leaned in and sniffed the offending thorn burr, then stretched out its front legs with its chest against the ground and its haunches high in the air. As it stretched, it flexed its paws against the rock and Kahlan saw that it had claws that were just as formidable as its teeth. Finally finished stretching, it turned and walked off toward the woods with that silent, relaxed, loping gait of a cat. As it left she saw that it had a very short, flat, bobbed tail. She also saw that it was a male.

  The animal paused to look back over a shoulder at Kahlan for a moment, then silently hopped down off the rock and into the woods. Without making a sound, it vanished in a heartbeat.

  Kahlan smiled as she lay down, happy that she had given the beautiful little mountain cat, or whatever it was, a nice meal and rid it of the thorn burr in its paw.

  Despite how warm a night it had been at first, once the clouds had broken up it had started turning colder. Kahlan wrapped the small blanket over herself as best she could. She curled up on her side, holding the blanket over her shoulder trying to keep warm so she could sleep. She was exhausted.

  She thought about Richard, thought about so many things about him. Despite her worry for him, she knew that Zedd had promised to bring him awake, so she felt somewhat confident. She felt herself drifting off with fits of images flashing through her mind’s eye. She was asleep in moments.

  At some point in the night, Kahlan woke up.

  CHAPTER

  33

  Kahlan squinted as she glanced up and saw that the moon had moved quite a distance across the sky. Dawn was still several hours off.

  Even partially submerged in sleep, Kahlan was awake enough to realize that she felt warm and comfortable. That didn’t make a lot of sense.

  Concerned for the reason, and at how odd it seemed, she forced herself awake in order to figure it out. It was then that she realized she felt something soft and warm against her middle.

  Kahlan was astonished to find the furry creature curled up in a ball, sleeping spooned against her stomach.

  Its back was to her, its head tucked under the big paw that was now thorn-free.

  Kahlan smiled at the unexpected comfort of her little friend nested up with her as she slept. With it pressed tight against her, she realized that it wasn’t all that little. It was actually a pretty good size, with a landscape of firm muscles under the silken fur.

  Kahlan gently put her hand over it. The fur was short and as soft as sable. The fur was so soft to the touch that she yearned to work her fingers deep into it, but resisted for fear of scaring the animal off, so instead she gently stroked a shoulder and back before letting her hand come to rest on the warm fur, feeling the rise and fall of its even breathing.

  The paw moved a little as the eye opened to peer up at who was stroking its back. When it saw Kahlan, the eye slowly closed. It readjusted itself slightly and put the paw back over its face.

  Since it purred a little louder and made no effort to get away from her hand, Kahlan was pretty sure that it was content with her touch. That purr was unusual-sounding. It was a more husky sound than a cat made, almost growly.

  But then, she knew that this was no typical cat.

  It was then that she noticed something else in the moonlight. Atop the rock, three dead rabbits had been laid out neatly side by side in a row. Although freshly killed, none had been eaten.

  The creature had brought her a gift.

  Kahlan looked down at the animal curled up against her middle.

  “Now I know your name. Hunter,” she said softly but with emphasis. “Hunter fits you.” She stroked behind a tufted ear. “Hunter sound good to you?”

  Hunter’s only response was to purr a little louder. She could feel the vibration of that contented purr against her stomach.

  Kahlan laid her head back down, her hand resting on little Hunter’s back, feeling his even breathing and the soft, steady throbbing of his purr.

  She smiled as she recalled Richard once admonishing her not to name wild creatures. He had brought her a jar of little fish one time to entertain her while she was recovering from terrible injuries. He had told her not to name them. It wasn’t long before she and Cara had named them all.

  “Sleep well, Hunter.”

  Kahlan couldn’t help smiling as she fell back to sleep.

  CHAPTER

  34

  Ludwig Dreier’s gaze drifted around the cramped, narrow streets of Saavedra as he and Erika rode their horses up through the city toward the citadel. Two-story buildings packed with people in cramped apartments crowded in close to the muddy road. Small shops or work areas filled some of the lower floors while carts and vendor stands stood wedged between buildings or in alleyways. Some were covered with tarps to protect the goods of hopeful merchants from the light drizzle.

  Ludwig had been to Saavedra to visit the citadel a number of times over the years, and he rather liked the feel of the city. And, he liked the way it smelled.

  It smelled of fear.

  The people of Saavedra feared the citadel on the hill looking down on them, watching them. Actually, it had been Hannis Arc watching them, and Hannis Arc they feared. The citadel was merely a symbol that embodied those fears. Hannis Arc believed that fear equaled respect, so most everything he did was aimed at earning their full and complete respect.

  The bishop had believed that if people feared him, they respected him, they obeyed him, they bowed down to him. He made sure that people were never without cause to fear him.

  Ludwig Dreier leaned over in his saddle and spat to the side. Hannis Arc was nothing but a petty despot, the ruler of the pathetic little land of Fajin Province, proud of himself for the way he could instill fear, and because of that he thought himself respected and worthy of more.

  He thought himself worthy of an empire.

  Because the Dark Lands were such a dangerous place, people were drawn to Saavedra for protection from those dangers. Those people needed food, clothing, and a myriad of other things, which drew in yet more people to service those needs and every other sort of need, from butchers to bakers to healers to merchants to woodcutters to prostitutes. All those people found shelter and relative safety in Saavedra, but it made the whole city feel like it was hunched inward, cowering in fear of everything out in the dark forests beyond and the citadel watching over them. Such fears, both the external and the internal, were wholly justified.

  Hannis Arc, if nothing else, was a man of considerable occult talent, and in return for their “respect,” he protected the people of his province in general and Saavedra in particular from things even less forgiving than he was. While they lived in fear of the man, at least they lived.

  Out in the wilds of the Dark Lands people died easily, swiftly, and often. There were claws and fangs always ready to take the careless, or even the properly cautious, but there were also things out there that were far worse than claws and fangs always ready to take them when they least expected it.

  The Dark Lands was mostly a deserted, trackless waste for good reason. So, people wanted to live in Saavedra or places like it as salvation from those very real dangers beyond the expanse of dark forests.

  Weighed in that light, Hannis Arc was a leader they were more than willing to tolerate—not that they had any real choice in the matter. As Ludwig knew so well, if given a choice people always chose the less painful of their options. It was the task of an intelligent leader to limit and properly frame those options so that people could see those choices
in stark terms.

  The people walking in every direction on the narrow street scattered out of the way when Ludwig and Erika made no effort to take any care in guiding their horses among them. If people didn’t get out of the way that was their problem. He was in no mood to indulge inconsiderate people not paying attention to where they were walking. It was their choice to get stepped on by a huge horse, or pay attention and get out of the way.

  His mind was on dark thoughts about the tasks that lay ahead.

  People stared at him because they recognized his black coat buttoned to his neck, the straight collar closed at his throat, and his rimless, four-sided hat. Even if they hadn’t seen him before, they would have heard of him. They knew by his distinctive clothes that he could be none other than Bishop Arc’s abbot. They knew that Ludwig ran the abbey, and the abbey was one of those places out in the vast forests beyond the city that they rightfully feared.

  Ludwig Dreier smiled as he suddenly realized that he, too, was “respected.”

  The men and women on the street also stared because Mistress Erika rode beside him. The stunningly beautiful creature, her posture perfect as she swayed easily in her saddle, was worthy of more than a long look, but most people averted their eyes the first instant they recognized her for what she was and then quickly made themselves scarce. Those who did not look away quickly enough risked finding themselves looking into her cold, blue-eyed gaze.

  A Mord-Sith in black leather was more than enough on her own to make people scatter without the horses urging them to move. Much like the abbot himself, people didn’t want a Mord-Sith taking note of them, especially not a Mord-Sith as intimidating as Erika. They believed such a woman’s gaze was capable of weighing their very soul.

  Ludwig Dreier smiled to himself because that fear was closer to the truth than people realized.

  Erika was a Mord-Sith who was more than merely talented at her craft. Others he had used were bumbling oafs in comparison to Erika. Their clumsy ability could hardly be compared to her talents. Erika was an artist.