Wizard's First Rule

by Terry Goodkind

  She did.

  He collapsed to his face in the dirt, trying to scream, to breathe, but couldn’t. He thought about Kahlan for an instant; then the pain took even that from him.

  Not one of the men moved from the circle. The woman put a boot on the back of his neck and an elbow on her knee as she leaned over. With her other hand she grabbed a fistful of his hair and lifted his head. She leaned closer, the leather creaking.

  “My, my,” she hissed. “And here I thought I was going to have to torture you for days and days before I finally made you angry enough to use your magic against me. Well, not to worry, I have other reasons to torture you.”

  Through his pain, Richard realized he had made a fearful mistake. He had somehow given her the control of the sword’s magic. He knew he was in more trouble than he had ever been in in his life. Kahlan was safe, he told himself; that was all that mattered.

  “Do you want the pain to stop, my pet?”

  The question enraged him. His anger at her, his want to kill her, twisted the pain tighter. “No,” he managed with all of his strength.

  She shrugged, dropping his head. “Fine by me. But when you decide you want the pain of the magic to stop, all you have to do is stop thinking those nasty thoughts about me. From now on, I control the magic of your sword. If you so much as think of lifting a finger against me, the pain of the magic will take you down.” She smiled. “That is the only pain you will have any control over. Just think something pleasant about me, and it will stop.

  “Of course, I too will have control over the pain of the magic, and can bring it to you any time I choose, and I can bring you other pain too, as you will learn.” She frowned. “Tell me, my pet, did you try to use the magic on me because you are a fool, or because you fancy yourself as brave?”

  The pain let up the smallest bit. He gasped for air. She had relaxed it just enough to allow him to answer.

  “Who… are… you?”

  She took a fistful of his hair again, lifted his head, twisted it around to look into his eyes. As she leaned over, the boot on his neck sent a shard of pain through his shoulders. He couldn’t move his arms. Her face was wrinkled in a frown of curiosity.

  “You don’t know who I am? Everyone in the Midlands knows me.”

  “I’m… Westland.”

  Her eyebrows lifted in delight. “Westland! My, my. How delicious. This is going to be fun.” Her smile widened. “I am Denna. Mistress Denna to you, my pet. I am a Mord-Sith.”

  “I’ll not… tell you… where Kahlan is. You might as well… kill me… now.”

  “Who? Kahlan?”

  “The… Mother Confessor.”

  “Mother Confessor,” she said with distaste. “Why in the world would I want a Confessor? It is you, Richard Cypher, that Master Rahl sent me for, no one else. One of your friends has betrayed you to him.” She twisted his head up harder, pushed her boot down harder. “And now I have you. I had thought it might be difficult, but you hardly made it any fun at all. I’m to be in charge of your training. But then you wouldn’t know about that, since you are from Westland. You see, a Mord-Sith always wears red when she’s to train someone. That’s so your blood won’t show so much. I have a wonderful feeling I’m going to have a lot of your blood on me before I have you trained.” She dropped his head, and leaned her full weight on her boot, holding her hand out in front of his face. He could see that the back of her gloved hand was armored, even the fingers. A bloodred leather rod, about a foot long, hung loosely from her wrist by an elegant gold chain. It swung back and forth in front of his eyes. “This is the Agiel. This is part of what I will use to train you.” She gave him a smooth smile, arching an eyebrow. “Curious? Want to see how it works?”

  Denna pressed the Agiel against his side. The shock of the pain made him cry out, even though he had had no intention of giving her the satisfaction of seeing how much it hurt. Every muscle in his body locked rigid with the agony of the thing against his side. His mind was filled with the want of having it off him. Denna pushed the slightest bit harder, making him scream louder. He heard a pop, and felt a rib crack.

  She took the Agiel away; warm blood oozed down his side. Richard was covered in sweat as he lay in the dirt, panting, tears running from his eyes. He felt as if the pain were pulling every muscle in his body apart. There was dirt in his mouth, and blood.

  Denna gave him a cruel sneer. “Now, my pet, say, ‘Thank you, Mistress Denna, for teaching me.’” Her face came closer. “Say it.”

  With all his mental strength, Richard focused his hunger to kill her, and envisioned the sword exploding through her head. “Die, bitch.”

  Denna shuddered and half closed her eyes, running her tongue over her upper lip in ecstasy. “Oh, that was a deliciously naughty vision, my pet. Of course, you will learn to be seriously sorry you did it. Training you is going to be exquisite fun. Too bad you don’t know what a Mord-Sith is. If you did, you would be very afraid. I would enjoy that.” Her smile showed her perfect teeth. “But I think I’m going to delight in surprising you even more.”

  Richard maintained the vision of killing her until he was unconscious.

  41

  Richard’s eyes came open a little. His mind was in a fog. He was facedown on a cold stone floor, lit by flickering torchlight. The stone walls had no windows to tell him if it was day or night. There was a coppery taste in his mouth. Blood. He tried to think of where he could be, and why. A sharp pain in his side caught his breath when he tried to inhale too deeply. His whole body hurt. He throbbed everywhere. It felt as if someone had given him a beating with a club.

  The memory of the nightmare seeped back into his mind. At the thought of Denna, his anger flashed. Instantly the pain of the magic made him inhale in a gasp. The unexpected shock of it made him draw his knees up and let out a moan of agony. He recoiled from the anger, put her from his mind. He thought of Kahlan, remembering the way she had kissed him. The pain melted away. Desperately, he tried to keep his mind on Kahlan; he couldn’t take the pain again. He couldn’t bear it; he already hurt too much.

  He had to think of a way out of this. If he didn’t get control of his anger, he had no chance. He remembered how his father had taught him that anger was wrong, how for most of his life he had been able to keep it choked off. Zedd had told him that there were times when bringing the anger out was more dangerous than keeping it in. This was one of those times. He had a whole lifetime of experience at keeping his anger under control; he must do it now. That thought gave him a sliver of hope.

  Carefully, without moving too much, he took appraisal. His sword was back in its scabbard, his knife still in its sheath, the night stone still in his pocket. His pack lay against a far wall. The left side of his shirt was hard with dried blood. His head pounded with pain, but felt no worse than the rest of him.

  Turning his head a little, he saw Denna. She was stretched out at an angle in a wooden chair with her ankles crossed. Her right elbow rested on a simple wooden table as she spooned something into her mouth from a bowl she held in her other hand. She was watching him.

  He thought maybe he should say something. “Where are your men?”

  Denna kept chewing for a time as she watched him. At last she set the bowl down and pointed at a spot on the floor next to her.

  Her voice was calm, almost gentle. “Come and stand here.”

  With great difficulty, Richard rose to his feet and walked to stand where she had pointed. She watched him without emotion as he stood looking down at her. He waited in silence. She stood and with her boot pushed the chair back out of the way. She was almost as tall as he. She turned her back to him as she picked up a glove off the table and worked it onto her right hand, pushing the fingers down tight.

  Abruptly she spun around, backhanding him across the mouth. The armored back of the glove split his lip open on his teeth.

  Immediately, before the anger could grip him, he thought about a beautiful place in the Hartland Woods. His eyes watered f
rom the sting of the gash.

  Denna gave him a warm smile. “You forgot the appellation, my pet. I told you before; you are to address me as Mistress, or as Mistress Denna. You are lucky to have me as your trainer; most Mord-Sith are not as lenient as I. They would have used the Agiel at the first offense. But I have a soft spot in my heart for good-looking men, and besides, even though the glove isn’t a very effective punishment, I must admit I rather favor using it. I like to feel the contact. The Agiel is exhilarating, but there is no substitute for using your own hands to feel what you’re doing.” She gave a little frown, her voice hardening. “Take your hand away.”

  Richard took his hand off his mouth and held both at his sides. He could feel the blood dripping from his chin. Denna watched it in satisfaction. Unexpectedly, she leaned forward and licked some of the blood off his chin, smiling at the taste. It seemed to excite her. She pressed herself against him, but this time she sucked his lip in her mouth and bit it, hard, on the cut. Richard squeezed his eyes shut, his hands in fists, and held his breath until she backed away, licking the blood from her lips with a smile. He shook with the pain, but held the vision of the Hartland Woods in his mind.

  “That was just a gentle warning, as you will soon learn. Now, repeat the question properly.”

  Richard decided on the spot that he would call her Mistress Denna, and that it would, to him, be a term of disrespect, and that he would never, ever, call her simply Mistress. It would be his way of fighting her, of keeping his self-respect. In his own mind at least.

  Richard took a deep breath to steady his voice. “Where are your men, Mistress Denna?”

  “Much better,” she cooed. “Most Mord-Sith don’t allow those in training to talk, or to ask questions, but I think that becomes boring. I rather like to talk to my trainee. As I said, you are lucky to have me.” She gave him a cool smile. “I’ve sent my men away. I no longer need them. They are only used for capture, and to hold the captive until he uses his magic against me; then they are no longer needed. There is nothing you can do to get away, or fight back. Nothing.”

  “And why do I still have my sword, and knife?”

  Too late, he remembered. With an arm he blocked her fist to his face. The act of stopping her brought the pain of the magic. The Agiel came up into his stomach. He rolled over on the ground, crying out in agony.

  “Stand up!”

  Richard choked off the anger to shut away the pain of the magic. The pain of the Agiel didn’t fade so quickly. He came to his feet with great difficulty.

  “Now, get on your knees, and ask for my forgiveness.”

  When he didn’t move quick enough for her, she laid the Agiel on his shoulder, pushing him down with it. His right arm went numb with hurt.

  “Please, Mistress Denna, forgive me.”

  “That’s better.” She smiled at last. “Stand up.” She watched him come to his feet. “You have your sword and knife because they are no danger to me, and perhaps someday you will use them to protect your Mistress. I prefer my pets to keep their weapons, so it can be a constant reminder that they are helpless against me.”

  She turned her back to him, removing her glove. Richard knew she was right about the sword: it had magic, and she controlled that. But he wondered if that was the only way. He had to know. His hands reached for her throat.

  She continued to slowly remove the glove as he fell to his knees, crying out with the pain of the magic. Desperately, he brought his mind to the picture of the Hartland Woods. The pain eased, and he returned to his feet when she told him to do so.

  Denna gave an impatient look. “You’re going to make this hard, aren’t you?” Her face softened, the smooth smile returning. “But then, I enjoy it when a man makes it hard. Now, you’re doing it wrong. I told you that to make the pain stop, you should think something pleasant about me. That’s not what you’re doing. You’re thinking about some boring trees. This is your last warning. Either think something pleasant about me, to stop the pain of the magic, or I will leave you in the agony of it all night. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mistress Denna.”

  Her smile widened. “That was very good. See? You can be trained. Just remember, something pleasant about me.” She took his hands and gazed into his eyes as she pressed his hands to her breasts. “I find most men seem to focus their pleasant thoughts here.” She leaned closer, still holding his hands against her, her voice becoming airy. “But if there’s anything you like better, please feel free to let your mind go there instead.”

  Richard decided that he thought her hair was pretty, and that that was the only place on her his mind was going to go to think anything pleasant. The pain unexpectedly took him to his knees, tightening its grip until he couldn’t breathe. His mouth opened, but he could get no air. His eyes bulged.

  “Now, show me you can do as you were told. Shut the pain off any time you wish, but do it in the way I told you.”

  He looked up at her, at her hair. His vision was blurring. With concentration, he thought about how attractive he thought her braid was. He forced himself to think of it as beautiful. The pain lifted, and he collapsed to his side, gasping for air.

  “Stand up.” He did as he was told, still struggling to breathe. “That was the proper way to do it. See to it that is the only way you dare to remove the pain in the future, or I will change the magic so you will be unable to remove it at all. Understand?”

  “Yes, Mistress Denna.” He was still catching his breath. “Mistress Denna, you said someone betrayed me. Who was it?”

  “One of your own.”

  “None of my friends would do that. Mistress Denna.”

  She regarded him contemptuously. “Then I would guess they aren’t really your friends, now, are they?”

  He looked at the floor, a lump in his throat. “No, Mistress Denna, but who was it?”

  She shrugged. “Master Rahl didn’t think it important enough to tell me. The only thing that is important for you to know, now, is that no one is going to rescue you. You are never going to be free again. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will go for you; the easier your training will be.”

  “And what is the purpose of my training, Mistress Denna?”

  The smile returned to her face. “To teach you the meaning of pain. To teach you that your life is no longer yours, that it is mine, and I can do anything I want with it. Anything. I can hurt you in any way I want, for as long as I want, and no one is going to help you but me. I’m going to teach you that every moment you have without pain is a moment only I can grant you. You are going to learn to do as I say without question, without hesitation, no matter what it is. You are going to learn to beg for anything you get.

  “After a few days of training here, and I think you have made enough progress, then I will take you to another place, where there are other Mord-Sith, and I will continue training you there until I’m finished, no matter how long it takes. I will let some of the other Mord-Sith play with you, so you can see how lucky you are to have me. I rather like men. Some of the others hate them. I will let some of them have you for a while, so you can see how gentle I really am.”

  “And what is the purpose of this training, Mistress Denna? To what end? What is it you want?”

  She seemed to genuinely enjoy telling him these things. “You are someone special. Master Rahl himself wants you trained.” Her smiled widened. “He asked for me. I would guess he has something he wants to ask you. I will not let you embarrass me in his eyes. When I’m done with you, you will beg to tell him anything he wants to know. When he is finished with you, then you are to be mine, for life. However long that may be.”

  Richard had to concentrate on her hair, had to fight to keep the anger down. He knew what Darken Rahl wanted to know; he wanted to know about the Book of Counted Shadows. The box was safe. Kahlan was safe. Nothing else mattered. Denna could kill him, for all he cared. In fact, it would be doing him a favor.

  Denna walked around him, looking him up and
down. “If you prove to be a good pet, I may even choose you for my mate.” She stopped in front of him, put her face close to his, gave him a coy smile. “Mord-Sith mate for life.” Her smile showed her teeth. “I’ve had many mates. But don’t get yourself too excited by the prospect, my pet,” she breathed. “I doubt you will find it to be an experience you enjoy, if you live through it. None of the others have. They all died after a short time as my mate.”

  Richard didn’t think that was anything he had to worry about. Darken Rahl wanted the book. If he didn’t find a way to escape, Darken Rahl was going to kill him, in the same way he had killed Richard’s father, and Giller. The most he would learn from reading Richard’s entrails was where that place was—inside Richard’s head—and there was no way any amount of the reading of his entrails was going to read the book out to him. Richard only hoped he could live long enough to see the look of surprise on Darken Rahl’s face when he realized he had made a fatal mistake.

  No book. No box. Darken Rahl was a dead man. That was all that mattered.

  As for the question of him being betrayed, he decided that he didn’t believe it. Darken Rahl knew the Wizard’s Rules, and he was just using the first, trying to make him afraid of the possibility. The first step to believing. Richard decided that he was not going to be tricked by the Wizard’s First Rule. He knew Zedd and Chase and Kahlan. He would not believe Darken Rahl over his friends.

  “By the way, where did you get the Sword of Truth?”

  He looked right into her eyes. “I bought it from the last man that had it. Mistress Denna.”

  “Is that so? What did you have to give for it?”

  Richard gazed into her eyes. “Everything I had. It would appear it is to also cost me my freedom, and probably my life.”