Wizard's First Rule

by Terry Goodkind

  Richard looked as dangerous as she had ever seen him. His glare turned briefly to the Bird Man, then back to the six under the shelter. She held her breath. The crowd was dead quiet. He turned slowly to them.

  “I will not harm your people,” he said in an even voice. There was a collective sigh of relief when Kahlan spoke his words. When it was quiet again, he went on. “But I will mourn for what is going to happen to them.” Without turning back to the elders, his arm slowly lifted as he pointed to them. “For you six, I will not mourn. I do not mourn the death of fools.” His words came out like poison. The crowd gasped.

  Toffalar’s face twisted into bitter rage. Whispers and fear spread through the onlookers. Kahlan glanced over to the Bird Man. He seemed to have aged years. She could see in his heavy brown eyes how sorry he was. For a moment their eyes locked and they shared the grief of what they both knew was going to sweep over all their lives; then his gaze sank to the ground.

  In a sudden flash of movement, Richard spun toward the elders, pulling free the Sword of Truth. It was so fast almost everyone, including the elders, flinched back a step in shock and then froze in place, the six faces reflecting the fear that kept them paralyzed. The crowd began creeping back; the Bird Man had not moved. Kahlan feared Richard’s anger, and understood it, too. She decided not to interfere, but to do what was necessary to protect the Seeker, whatever he did next. Not even a whisper was uttered; the only sound in the dead silence was the distinctive ringing of steel. With his teeth gritted, Richard pointed the glinting sword at the elders, its tip inches from their faces.

  “Have the courage to do one last thing for your people.” Richard’s tone sent a chill through her. Kahlan translated out of reflex, too transfixed to do anything else. Then, unbelievably, he turned the sword around, holding it by the point, holding the hilt out to the elders. “Take my sword,” he commanded. “Use it to kill the women and children. It will be more merciful than what Darken Rahl will do to them. Have the courage to spare them the torture they will suffer. Give them the charity of a quick death.” His countenance withered their expressions.

  Kahlan could hear women starting to cry softly as they clutched their children. The elders, in the grip of a terror they hadn’t expected, did not move. At last their eyes fled from Richard’s glare. When it was clear to all they did not have the courage to take the sword, Richard painstakingly slid it back into its scabbard, as if slowly extinguishing their last chance at salvation—an unequivocal gesture that the elders had forfeited forever the aid of the Seeker. The finality of it was frightening.

  Then at last he broke his hot glare at them and turned to her, his face changing. When she saw the look in his eyes, she swallowed hard. It was a look of heartache for a people he had come to love, but could not help. All eyes stayed on him as he closed the distance between them and took her gently by the arm.

  “Let’s collect our things and get moving,” he said softly. “We’ve wasted a lot of time. I only hope it wasn’t too much.” His gray eyes were wet. “I’m sorry, Kahlan… that I chose wrong.”

  “You did not choose wrong, Richard; they did.” Her anger at the elders had a finality to it, too, a door closing on any hope for these people. She cut off her concern for them; they were the walking dead. They had been offered a chance, and had chosen their own fate.

  When they passed Savidlin, the two men locked arms for a moment without looking at each other. No one else made a move to leave; they stayed and watched the two outsiders walk quickly among them. As they passed, a few reached out and touched Richard, he returning the wordless sympathy with a squeeze of his hand on their arms, unable to bear meeting their eyes.

  They gathered up their things from Savidlin’s house, stuffing their cloaks into the packs. Neither spoke. Kahlan felt empty, drained. When their eyes met at last, they suddenly came together in a wordless embrace, a shared grief for their new friends, for what they both knew would happen to them. They had gambled with the only thing they had—time. And lost.

  When they separated, Kahlan put the last of her things in the pack and closed the flap. Richard pulled his cloak back out. She watched as he pushed his hand inside and rummaged around, an urgency to his search. He went to the doorway for light, and looked inside as he moved items roughly about. The arm holding the pack lowered and his face came up to hers, alarm in his expression.

  “The night stone is gone.”

  The way he said it frightened her. “Maybe you left it out somewhere….”

  “No. I never took it out of my pack. Never.”

  Kahlan didn’t understand why he seemed so panicked about it. “Richard, we don’t need it now, we are through the pass. I’m sure Adie will forgive its loss. We have more important things to worry about.”

  He took a step closer to her. “You don’t understand. We have to find it.”

  “Why?” she frowned.

  “Because I think that thing can wake the dead.” Her mouth fell open. “Kahlan, I’ve been thinking about it. Do you remember how nervous Adie was when she gave it to me, how she kept looking around until it was put away? And when did the shadow things in the pass start coming for us? After I took it out. Remember?”

  Her eyes were wide. “But, even if someone else used it, she said it would only work for you.”

  “She was talking about it giving off light. She said nothing about waking the dead. I can’t believe Adie wouldn’t warn us.”

  Kahlan looked away, thinking. Her eyes closed as a wave of realization swept over her. “Yes, she did, Richard. She warned you with a sorceress’s riddle. I’m sorry, I never gave it a thought. That is the way of a sorceress. She will not always come right out with what she knows, with a warning. She will sometimes put it in the form of a riddle.”

  Richard turned to the door, glaring out. “I can’t believe it. The world is being sucked into oblivion, and that old woman gives us riddles.” He pounded his fist against the doorframe. “She should have told us!”

  “Richard, maybe she had a reason, maybe it was the only way.”

  He stared out the door, thinking. “If you have need enough. That’s what she said. Like water. It is valuable only under the right conditions, that to a drowning man it is of little worth and great trouble. That was how she was trying to warn us. Great trouble.” He turned back to the room, picking up the pack again, taking another look inside. “It was here last night, I saw it. What could have happened to it?”

  Together they looked up, their eyes meeting.

  “Siddin,” they both said at once.

  26

  Dropping their packs, they both ran out the door, heading for the open area where they had last seen Savidlin. Both screamed out Siddin’s name. As they ran, splashing through the mud, people scattered out of the way. By the time they reached the open area, the crowd was in a panic, not knowing what was happening, and were sweeping back for the shelter of the buildings. The elders retreated on the platform. The Bird Man stretched up, trying to see. The band of hunters behind him nocked arrows to their bowstrings.

  She saw Savidlin, frightened and confused that they were calling out his son’s name.

  “Savidlin!” Kahlan screamed. “Find Siddin! Don’t let him open the pouch he has!”

  Savidlin paled, whirled around, searching, then ran off in a half crouch, looking for his son, his head darting among the running people. Kahlan didn’t see Weselan anywhere. Richard and Kahlan separated, widening their search. The area was turning to mass confusion; she had to push people out of her way. Kahlan’s heart was in her throat. If Siddin opened the pouch…

  And then she saw him.

  As people cleared the center of the village, there he was, paying no attention to the panic all around him as he sat in the mud, shaking the leather pouch in his little fist, trying to get the stone out.

  “Siddin! No!” she yelled at him over and over, running toward him.

  He couldn’t hear her screams. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to get it out. He w
as just a defenseless little boy. Please, she begged in her mind, let the fates be kind to him.

  The stone dropped from the pouch and plopped into the mud. Siddin smiled and picked it up. Kahlan felt her skin go cold.

  Shadow things began to materialize all around. They turned like wisps of mist in the damp air, as if looking about. Then they floated for Siddin.

  Richard ran for him, screaming over at her, “Get the stone! Put it back in the pouch!”

  His sword flashed through the air, cutting through the shadows as he ran in a straight line for Siddin. When the sword sliced through them, they howled in agony and spun apart. Upon hearing the terrifying wails Siddin looked up and froze, wide-eyed. Kahlan yelled at him to put the stone back in the pouch, but he could not move. He was hearing other voices. She ran faster than she had ever run, weaving back and forth around the dense knots of shadows as they floated toward the boy.

  Something dark and small zipped past her, making her breath catch in her throat. Then another, behind her. Arrows. The air suddenly became thick with arrows, the Bird Man having ordered his hunters to bring down the shadows. Every one went true and found its mark, but they simply passed through the shadow things as if they were whizzing through smoke. Poison-tipped arrows were flying wildly everywhere. She knew that if one even nicked her or Richard, they were dead. Now she had to dodge the arrows as well as the shadows. She heard another whistle past her ear as she ducked at the last second. One skipped in the mud and flew past her leg.

  Richard had reached the boy, but couldn’t grab the stone. All he was able to do was frantically strike down the advancing shadows. He couldn’t pause to try for the stone.

  Kahlan was still a long way off, not able to run in as Richard had, cutting through them. She knew that if she inadvertently touched a shadow, she was dead. There were so many materializing around her the very air was like a gray maze. Richard fought around the boy in a circle that got smaller all the time. He held the sword in both hands, swinging it wildly. He dared not slow for an instant or they would close over him. There was no end to the shadow things.

  Kahlan couldn’t make any headway. The shadows, floating past her from all around, and the arrows streaking by, cut her off at every turn, the arrows forcing her to jump back just as she went for an opening. She knew Richard wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Hard as he fought, he was falling back in a tighter and tighter circle, closer to the boy. She was their only chance, and she wasn’t even close.

  Another arrow zipped past, the feather flicking her hair.

  “Stop the arrows!” she yelled angrily at the Bird Man. “Stop shooting the arrows! You’re going to kill us!”

  Frustrated, he recognized her plight and reluctantly called a halt to the archers. But then they all drew knives and quickly advanced on the shadows. They had no idea what they were up against. They would be killed to the last man.

  “No!” she screamed, shaking her fists. “If you touch them you will die! Stay back!”

  The Bird Man held his arm up, stopping his men. She knew how helpless he felt as he watched her dart back among the shadows, angling slowly closer to Richard and Siddin.

  She heard another voice. It was Toffalar, yelling.

  “Stop them! They are destroying our ancestors’ spirits! Shoot them with your arrows! Shoot the outsiders!”

  Hesitantly, looking at one another, the archers nocked arrows to their bows once again. They could not disobey one of the elders.

  “Shoot them!” he yelled, red-faced, shaking his fist. “You heard me! Shoot them!”

  They brought up their bows. Kahlan crouched, preparing to try to jump out of the way once the arrows were loosed. The Bird Man stepped in front of his men, holding his arm out, across them, countermanding the order. There were words she couldn’t hear between him and Toffalar. She wasted no time, and took the opportunity to work her way forward, ducking under the outstretched arms of the floating shadow things.

  Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Toffalar. He had a knife and was running toward her. She dismissed the danger; sooner or later he would run into a shadow and be killed. He stopped here and there to plead with the shadow things. She couldn’t hear his words above the wails. The next time she looked he had closed most of the distance. It was unbelievable that he hadn’t run into one. Somehow the gaps just opened for him as he ran heedlessly, recklessly, for her, his face contorted in rage. Still, she didn’t worry that he could make it; soon he had to touch one, and would be dead.

  Kahlan gained the rest of the open ground, but found the ring of shadows around Richard and Siddin an impenetrable gray wall. There was no opening. She dodged right, then left, trying to find a way in, but couldn’t get through. She was so close, yet so far, and the trap was closing around her, too. Several times she barely escaped by stepping back before shadows converged. Richard snatched glimpses to see where she was. He tried to fight through to her a number of times, but was forced to turn to the other side to keep the shadows from Siddin.

  With a start, she saw the knife slashing through the air. Toffalar had reached her. Lost in hate, he screamed things she couldn’t even understand. But she understood the knife, what he intended. He intended to kill her. She dodged his slash. It was her opening.

  And then she made a mistake.

  She started to reach to touch Toffalar, but caught sight of Richard looking toward her. She faltered at the thought of him seeing her use her power. She hesitated, and let Toffalar have the instant he needed. Richard screamed her name in warning, then turned to fight back the shadows from behind him.

  Toffalar’s knife came up, hitting her right arm, deflecting off the bone.

  Shock and pain ignited her rage. Rage at her own stupidity. She did not miss the opening a second time. Her left hand came up and caught Toffalar by the throat. She felt her grip shut off his air for an instant. She needed only to touch him; grabbing him by the throat was a reflex of her rage, not her power.

  Though there were terrified screams and shouts coming from people all around, and the horrifying wails from the shadows Richard was destroying wholesale, her mind went suddenly quiet, calm. There was no sound in her head. Only silence. The silence of what she was going to do.

  In the calm spark of an instant that to her twisted for an eternity, she saw the look of fear in Toffalar’s eyes, the realization of his fate. She saw in his eyes his railing against that end, felt his muscles beginning to tense, to fight her, his hands starting the ever so slow, hopeless journey to her grip at his throat.

  But he had no chance, not the slightest glimmer. She was in control now. Time was hers. He was hers. She felt no pity. No remorse. Only deadly calm.

  As she had done countless times before, in her calm, the Mother Confessor relaxed her restraint. Released at last, her power slammed into Toffalar’s body.

  There was a hard impact to the air; thunder with no sound. Water in the puddles around her danced and flung muddy droplets into the air.

  Toffalar’s eyes went wide. The muscles of his face went slack. His mouth fell open.

  “Mistress!” he called out in a reverent whisper.

  The calm expression on her face contorted with anger. With all her strength she shoved Toffalar backward, at the ring of shadows around Richard and Siddin. Arms flung in the air, he fell into the shadows and screamed at the contact before falling to the mud. Somehow, the contact opened a brief, small gap in the ring of shadows. Without hesitation she dove for it, flinging herself through an instant before it closed behind her.

  Kahlan threw herself over Siddin.

  “Hurry!” Richard yelled.

  Siddin didn’t look at her; his face was fixed on the shadows, his mouth open, all his muscles locked. She tried to get the stone from his tight little fist, but his fingers were fastened around it with the strength of his fright. She snatched the pouch from his other hand. Gripping the pouch and his wrist with her left hand, she started prying his little fingers off the stone with
the right, begging him the whole time to let go. He didn’t hear her. Blood ran down her arm to her shaking hand, mixing with the rain, making her fingers slippery.

  A shadowy hand reached for her face. She flinched back. The sword hissed past her face, through the shadow. It added its wail to the others. Siddin’s eyes were transfixed on the shadows, all his muscles rigid. Richard was right over her, swinging the sword in weaving patterns all around. There was no more ground to give. It was just the three of them now. Siddin’s slippery fingers wouldn’t open.

  Gritting her teeth with an effort that sent searing pain through the wound in her right arm, she finally raked the stone out of Siddin’s hand. Because of the blood and mud, it shot from her fingers like a melon seed, plopping in the mud by her knee. Almost instantly her hand was over it, snatching it back up in a scoopful of mud. She jammed it in the pouch and yanked the drawstring closed. Gasping, she looked up.

  The shadows stopped. She could hear Richard’s heavy breathing as he continued slashing at them. Slowly, at first, the shadows began moving back, as if confused, lost, searching. Then they dissolved back into the air, retreating to the underworld whence they had come. In a moment, they were gone. Except for Toffalar’s body, the three of them were in an empty expanse of mud.

  Kahlan, rain running off her face, took Siddin into her arms, hugging him tight against her as he began crying. In exhaustion, Richard closed his eyes and collapsed to his knees, sitting back on his heels. His head hung down as he panted.

  “Kahlan,” Siddin whimpered, “they were calling my name.”

  “I know,” she whispered in his ear, kissing it, “it’s all right now. You were very brave. Brave as any hunter.”

  He hugged his arms around her neck as she comforted him. She felt weak, shaky. They had almost lost their lives, to save a single one. Something she had told him the Seeker must not do, yet they had done it without a second thought. How could they not have tried? Having Siddin’s arms around her made it all worth it. Richard was still holding the sword in both hands; its tip sunk in the mud. She reached over and put a hand on his shoulder.