Confessor

by Terry Goodkind

  Richard schooled his emotions, setting aside his dismay. Jagang would not miss this game. Sooner or later he would show up.

  When the emperor’s team strode onto the opposite end of the field the crowd erupted in a thunderous roar. These men were the best the Order had to offer. They were heroes to countless thousands of spectators. These were the men who could vanquish all who came before them, the players who crushed all opposition, the champions who were most deserving of victory. Many regarded the team as a tangible representation of their own power and virility.

  As Richard and his men waited outside the torches, the other team, looking not merely determined but dangerous, stalked around the perimeter of the field, acknowledging the roar of the crowd with nothing more than bloodthirsty looks. The crowd loved such a visage of hate and menace, of things to come.

  When the emperor’s team finished circling the field and finally gathered toward the other side of the field to wait for the challengers, the archers and other dedicated guards parted. Commander Karg waved Richard and his team through the gap in the line. As Richard passed, the commander whispered a warning to Richard that he had better win.

  Richard stepped out onto the field. His concern for his plan was eased when the resounding cheers for his team were nearly as deafening as they had been for the emperor’s team. In the many games they had played since coming to the Imperial Order’s encampment, Richard’s team had won every game, and in so doing the respect of many. It didn’t hurt that Richard was well known for having killed an opposing point man. Probably even more than that, though, was the sight of the team covered with frightening designs in red paint. It was theater that fit the games. Richard was counting on that support.

  He was also troubled when he finally got a good look at all of his opponents. They were some of the biggest men Richard had ever seen. They reminded him of Egan and Ulic, the personal guards to the Lord Rahl. It occurred to Richard that he could use Egan and Ulic right about then.

  Leaving his men gathered at the end of the field, Richard crossed the empty ground alone to the referee at center field with the fistful of straws. The point man for the emperor’s team waiting beside the referee looked to be nearly a foot taller than Richard. His neck started at his ears and just kept getting wider until it met shoulders half again as wide as Richard’s.

  A neat row of red, swollen marks running diagonally up along the side of his face recorded where the links of the chain had caught him. As Richard waited, the towering point man, glaring at Richard the entire time, drew a straw first.

  When Richard drew, he came up with a shorter straw. The onlookers roared their approval that the emperor’s team would have the first chance to score. The man shot Richard a smirk before taking the broc and heading to his side of the field.

  As Richard returned to his players waiting at their end of the field, his gaze swept over the endless masses of men, fists raised in wild emotion, all wanting the blood of either one side or the other. Men with arrows at the ready watched Richard’s solitary walk back to his team. He could feel the fevered emotions of hundreds of thousands of men all pressing in, trying to see what would happen—men who had gotten where they were by trampling over endless corpses of innocent men, women, and children who had only wanted to live their own lives, to better themselves and their families.

  Richard felt caught up in a world gone mad.

  His gaze passed over the empty space where the emperor was supposed to be. Where Kahlan was supposed to be. Without Kahlan, even a Kahlan who didn’t know him, the world was a cold and empty place.

  Right then, Richard felt very small and alone.

  In a numb haze, he took his place in the line with his men. When the horn blew and the enemy, bunched together in a tight formation, started coming, being down in the bowl of the Ja’La field was like standing in a valley, watching an avalanche descending on him. Right then, in that moment of desolation, Richard didn’t know what he would do.

  The collision was brutal. Gritting his teeth with the effort, he tried to turn the men protecting their point man, but they plowed right through Richard and his team.

  With little ceremony their point man reached the scoring zone and threw the broc. Defenders painted with red symbols leaped to try to deflect the throw, but the attackers rolled over them. The broc landed solidly in the net, scoring the first point.

  The crowd erupted with a deafening roar of approval.

  Richard had just learned something. The emperor’s team appeared to rely on their superior size and weight to grind their way through their opponents’ defense. They had no real need for finesse. He gave his men a stealthy hand signal as the other team formed up for their second charge.

  When they came, all of Richard’s team hooked across the blocking line, using low tackles to take the legs out from under the big men in the center. It wasn’t elegant, but it served the purpose of opening a hole. Before the hole could close, Richard was through. The point man didn’t deviate course, confident in his size to smash Richard out of his way.

  Richard pivoted, abruptly cutting across the front of the man, sweeping a leg at his ankles. As the man stumbled to maintain his balance, Richard snatched the broc out from his arms when they loosened in a natural reaction to falling face-first.

  Richard dodged and darted his way through a loose line of men. As yet more men converged on him, he tossed the broc to Johnrock, already positioned behind the line of men. To the wild cheers of his supporters, Johnrock briefly held up the broc for all to see as he ran from a clutch of pursuers. Johnrock, enjoying the moment, turned backward as he ran so he could laugh at the men chasing him, then threw the broc over their heads to Richard.

  Men dove in from every direction as Richard caught the broc. He twisted away from one man, dodged another, and pushed himself away from a third, reversing direction wildly in an effort to keep from the clutches of the big men. Despite his own players tackling men, or blocking them out of Richard’s way, the opponents closed in all around. As Richard tried to miss one man, another seized him around his shoulders and, as if he were a small child, tossed him to the ground. Richard knew that he wasn’t going to be able to keep the broc from these men, and he didn’t want them all piling on top of him and breaking his bones, so as soon as he hit the ground he heaved the broc. Bruce was running in the right place at the right time. He caught the broc but was then tackled.

  The horn blew, ending the time of play for the emperor’s team. They had scored a point, and Richard was fortunate to have kept them from getting two.

  As he trotted to his side of the field, he reprimanded himself for letting his feelings get the better of him. He wasn’t paying enough attention. His mind wasn’t in what he was doing. He was going to get himself killed.

  He couldn’t do anything to help Kahlan unless he shaped up.

  His men were panting, most resting by leaning over with their hands on their knees. They looked despondent.

  “All right,” Richard said as he reached them, “we’ve let them have their moment of glory. Now let’s take them down.”

  That brought grins all around. All the men brightened at his words.

  As Richard caught the broc when the referee tossed it his way, he glanced around at his men. “Let’s show them who they’re dealing with. Play one-three then reverse it.” He quickly showed them one finger, then three, in case they couldn’t hear him over all the noise. “Go.”

  As one the men broke into a dead run, immediately clustering into a knot of men around Richard. No blockers went out front, no wing men went to the sides. Instead, all the men compacted together into as tight of a formation as they could and still be able to run at full speed.

  The other team looked pleased by the tactic. It was their kind of play—brute force. With their supporters cheering them on they ran headlong at the cluster of Richard’s team.

  All of Richard’s men watched Jagang’s team, waiting until they reached the prescribed square. Moments from impact,
as the defenders reached that spot, Richard’s entire team suddenly broke in every direction at once.

  It was such a startling move that the other players faltered, turning one way, then the other, unsure what to do as the men they were about to clobber were unexpectedly bolting every which way. Each of Richard’s men ran in a crazy zigzag course that appeared to have no rhyme or reason. The men on Jagang’s team didn’t know who to grab, who to chase, or where they were going. In an instant, the massive, focused charge had scattered like so many fireflies.

  The crowd roared with delighted laughter.

  Richard ran a wild course the same as the other men, except he was the one with the broc. By the time that fact sank in for the other team, Richard was already around most of them and deep into enemy territory. As two of the blockers went after him he ran for his life.

  When he reached the scoring zone he heaved the broc. As soon as it left his fingers he was hit from behind, but it was too late to stop the throw. The broc sailed into the goal. Richard hit the ground with a man atop him. It was fortunate that the man had been running at full speed because his momentum tumbled him over Richard’s back.

  Richard scrambled to his feet and trotted back toward his side of the field to the wild cheers of the crowd. The score was tied, but he wasn’t interested in a tie. He needed to press the advantage. The play he had devised wasn’t finished, yet. He needed to complete it.

  His men, all smiles, gathered as quickly as possible. Richard didn’t need to give them a signal; he had already given them the whole play the first time. When the referee tossed him the broc they all immediately broke into a run.

  Again, they formed into a tight formation as they charged across the field. This time, though, Jagang’s team, as they raced to meet them, scattered at the last minute, ready this time to intercept all the men as they tried to take off in every direction. The crowd cheered and screamed their approval.

  Rather than break apart, though, Richard’s team remained tightly packed together as they charged right up the middle of the field. The few dispersed players left within range to intercept them were mowed down by the full weight of the team. The minor defense of first two, followed by a third defender, didn’t slow Richard’s men at all. The other team, suddenly realizing what was happening, took up the pursuit. They were too late. Richard steered his men to the right goal.

  As he reached the scoring zone and his men fell back into a protective shield, Richard threw the broc. He watched it in the torchlight as it arced through the night air and then went in. The crowd erupted in cheering. The horn blew, signaling the end of the play.

  The referee at center field announced the score, one for the champions—Jagang’s team—and two for the challengers.

  But then, before the referee had finished with the announcement and the hourglass was turned over, Richard saw him turn to something on the sidelines. It was Jagang. He was in the area that had been roped off for him. Nicci was at his side. Kahlan stood back a short distance. Jillian was with her.

  As everyone waited, the referee went to the sideline and listened to the emperor a moment. He nodded and returned to center field, where he announced that the second score was ruled to have gone in after the horn blew, so it didn’t count. The score, the referee announced in a loud voice, was tied.

  Part of the crowd yelled in anger, while others screamed with joy at their fortune.

  Richard’s men started shouting angry objections, disputing the call. Richard strode in front of them. The noise of the uproar of the crowd was so loud that he feared his men wouldn’t be able to hear him, so he pulled a thumb across his throat, cutting off their objections.

  “You can’t change it!” he yelled at them. “Settle down! Focus!”

  They stopped protesting but they weren’t happy. Richard wasn’t, either, but he knew that he couldn’t do anything about it. It had been the order of the emperor, after all, that had reversed their goal. Richard was going to have to alter his plans.

  “We need to stop these men,” he said as he paced in front of his team. “When it’s our turn again, go to play two-five.” He showed them first two fingers, then five. Men nodded. “You can’t stop what just happened, but you can stop them from scoring. Then we can run our play and get back what was taken unfairly. Stop fixating on what’s done and over and put your minds ahead to what we must do.”

  His men all nodded as they formed up, preparing for the other team’s charge. They were still angry but now they were ready to focus that anger on the other team.

  The charge by the emperor’s team was sloppy. They were still caught up in the jubilation over their reversal of fortune. In a bone-crushing impact their point man was shaken by a coordinated block. Richard was proud of his men for the way they turned their anger around and made use of it.

  In the furious struggle after the collision Johnrock came up with the broc. He tossed it to Bruce when the men chasing him got close. Bruce in turn passed the broc to Richard. Richard ran up the field and, to the delight of the crowd, used all his strength to throw from the two-point line. The broc went in. It didn’t count, of course, but the crowd roared as if it had. The cheers shook the ground. It was vindication for the stolen goal. It was as close to snubbing his nose at Jagang as Richard could come.

  Their supporters in the crowd started chanting, “Four to one! Four to one! Four to one!”

  The score was still officially one to one, but in the view of those who were cheering it was now four to one.

  On their next charge, when the point man for the emperor’s team ran into the scoring zone and threw the broc, one of Richard’s men leaped up high and managed to deflect the broc just enough to cause it to go wide and miss the goal. When the horn blew, the score remained one to one.

  On their first play, Richard was almost to the scoring zone when he was tackled. The man caught his legs in a viselike grip. As Richard hit the ground, he tossed the broc in Johnrock’s direction. Johnrock scooped it up just before a man on the other team was able to grab it.

  Johnrock reached the scoring zone and threw. From the ground Richard watched as the broc went into the net, scoring a point.

  Johnrock, overjoyed, waved both hands high in the air as he jumped up and down like a boy. The crowd loved it. Richard couldn’t help smiling as he untangled himself from his tackler, who delivered a painful punch in Richard’s back just before parting. Richard didn’t take the bait. He knew better than to let himself be drawn into a fight when the broc wasn’t in play.

  As he caught up with Johnrock and they ran together back toward the starting zone for their next run, Richard clapped his wing man on the shoulder.

  “You did good, Johnrock,” Richard yelled over the cheering.

  “I brought us glory!”

  Richard couldn’t help laughing. “Glory,” he agreed as he again clapped Johnrock on the back. “And a point that counts.”

  As they formed up while waiting for the referee to deliver the broc, all of the men shouted their congratulations to a beaming Johnrock. He pumped his fist, eliciting a mighty team shout, before he took his usual place at Richard’s right. Bruce took his left wing. The blockers formed a wedge heavily weighted out ahead of Johnrock. The play was meant to draw the defenders to the left side, where the defense was weakest.

  As they charged up the field, the emperor’s team started going to Richard’s left, as he wanted, but at the last moment they hooked and crashed through the center of the heaviest part of the wedge. Such a tactic would not stop Richard or get them the broc. They were after something else. Richard knew there was going to be trouble when tacklers leaped over the forward blockers.

  “Johnrock!” Richard yelled. “Cut right!”

  Johnrock, instead, dropped his big shoulder into the teeth of the attack. Three tacklers dove low. The fourth hooked an arm around Johnrock’s neck. A fifth man, racing at full speed, hit him from the side, applying force to the fulcrum at Johnrock’s neck.

  Richard felt
like he was in a dream and couldn’t make his legs move fast enough.

  Even as he was running with all his strength, he could hear bone break.

  CHAPTER 33

  Her heart heavy, Kahlan watched as Richard knelt beside his fallen right wing man. The horn blew. The men from Jagang’s team quickly left their victim slumped on his side to return to their end of the field to be ready to defend.

  “Is he dead?” Jillian asked.

  Kahlan circled an arm around the shoulders of the girl pressed in against her left side. “I’m afraid so.”

  “Why would they deliberately do such a thing?”

  “It’s the way the Order plays Ja’La dh Jin. Killing is a means to get what they want.”

  Kahlan could see the tears in Richard’s eyes as his men hooked their arms under his and dragged him back away from the body. If he didn’t go back to play immediately he would be ejected for delaying the game. Referee’s assistants quickly set to work dragging the lifeless form of the big man off the field.

  Kahlan could hear Jagang, half a dozen paces ahead of her, chuckle.

  Nicci, at his side, briefly glanced back over her shoulder. Kahlan didn’t quite know what to make of the liquid look in her blue eyes. It seemed part sadness for Richard, part bottled rage, and, somehow, part warning to Kahlan.

  Kahlan hadn’t been able to speak with Nicci again since that night after she had been so terribly hurt. Ever since Jagang had made his bet with Commander Karg he had been moody and short-tempered.

  Last evening, as Nicci waited in the bedchamber and Kahlan waited in the outer room of his tent, he’d met outside with some of the members of his team. Kahlan hadn’t heard everything, but it had sounded like he had given them orders that he wanted them to see to it that the point man for Karg’s team didn’t cause them any trouble.

  Kahlan had had a sleepless night, worried that Richard might not live to see morning. What ever had been planned had Jagang in a lusty mood for Nicci. Kahlan and Jillian had been ordered to stay where they were on the floor in the outer room. He wanted to be alone with his Slave Queen, as he called her.