Wizard's First Rule tsot-1

by Terry Goodkind

  “Who do you see me as?” the Seeker whispered. “Darken Rahl, or Richard?”

  She trembled slightly, seemingly unable to move. Richard’s eye was caught by something, his view flicked down for an instant, and he saw that he had the sword point at her throat, at the hollow of her neck. He hadn’t been aware of putting it there—it was as if the magic had taken it there of its own accord. But he knew that wasn’t true. He had put it there. That was why she was trembling. A drop of blood grew against her skin, under the sword’s point. If she was the traitor, he had to kill her.

  The blade had turned white. So had Kahlan’s face.

  “Who do you see?” he whispered again.

  “What have you done to Richard?” Her whisper was ragged with rage. “If you have harmed him, I swear I will kill you.”

  He remembered the way she had kissed him. It was not the kiss of a traitor, it was a kiss of love. He realized there was no way he could kill her, even if his fear was true. But he knew now it wasn’t. With tears in his eyes, he slid the sword into its scabbard.

  “I’m sorry, Kahlan. May the good spirits forgive me for what I almost did. I know you can’t understand me, but I’m sorry. Darken Rahl is using the Wizard’s First Rule on me, trying to turn us against one another. He is trying to make me believe a lie, and I almost did. I know you and Zedd would never betray me. Forgive me for thinking it.”

  “What do you want?” Zedd asked. “We can’t understand you.”

  “Zedd . . .” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “How can I make you understand?” He grabbed the wizard’s robes in his fists. “Zedd, where’s the box? I have to have the box before Rahl finds it! We can’t let him get it!”

  Zedd frowned. Richard knew this was doing no good—none of them could understand him. He went to the horses and started searching through the packs.

  “Look all you want, you’ll never find it,” the wizard smiled. “We don’t have the box. You are going to die in four days.”

  Richard sensed something move behind him. He spun around—Chase had the mace raised. A stream of fire shot past, between them. Scarlet kept the fire up until Chase stepped back.

  “Some friends you have,” the dragon grumbled.

  “Darken Rahl put a wizard’s web on me. They don’t recognize me.”

  “Well, if you stay with them much longer, they are going to kill you.”

  Richard realized that they wouldn’t have the box. Not if they were coming to D’Hara to save him. They wouldn’t have risked taking the box to Rahl. The three of them silently watched him and the dragon.

  “Scarlet, say something to them, see if they can understand you.”

  The dragon’s head swept closer to the three. “This is not Darken Rahl, but your friend, hidden by a wizard’s web. Can any of you understand me?”

  The three stood mute. Aggravated, Richard stepped closer to Zedd.

  “Zedd, please try to understand me. Don’t seek the night stone. If you do, Rahl will trap you in the underworld. Try to understand!”

  None of the three grasped a word he was saying. He had to get the box first—then he would come back and protect them from the men Rahl had sent. Reluctantly, he climbed back up onto Scarlet. She kept a wary eye to the three, puffing a little smoke and flame in warning. Richard wanted desperately to stay with Kahlan, but he couldn’t—he had to get the box first.

  “Let’s get out of here. We have to go find my brother.”

  With a roar of flame, warning the three to stay back, Scarlet took to the air. Richard held her spikes tight. Her red, scaled neck stretched out as she climbed into the sky among the drifting white clouds, weaving between them. He watched his three friends watching back until he could see them no more. He felt desperately helpless. He wished he could have seen Kahlan’s smile, just once.

  “Now what?” Scarlet asked over her shoulder.

  “We have to find my brother. He should be with an army of about a thousand men, somewhere between here and the Rang’Shada. They shouldn’t be as hard to find.”

  “They couldn’t understand my words—the web must affect me too, since I’m with you. But it must be a web for people, not dragons, for I see the truth. If these three wanted to kill you because of a wizard’s web, surely the others will too. I can’t protect you against a thousand men.”

  “I have to try. I’ll think of something. Michael is my brother, I’ll think of a way to make him see the truth. He’s on his way with the army to help me. I need his help very badly.”

  Since an army would be easier to spot, they flew high, to see more ground. Scarlet made gentle sweeping turns among the immense, cottony clouds. Richard hadn’t realized how big clouds really were, when viewed this close. As some of them gathered, it was like being in a wonderland of white mountains, and valleys. The dragon skimmed under their dark bases, sometimes passing through a damp wisp that hung down, her head disappearing in the whiteness at the end of her neck, the tips of her wings vanishing, too. The size of the clouds made even Scarlet seem small and insignificant.

  They searched for hours without seeing any sign of an army. Richard was getting so used to flying, he didn’t have to hold on to Scarlet’s spikes all the time. He leaned back against two of them, letting his body relax while he looked at the landscape below. As they flew, Richard thought about what he could do to convince Michael of who he was. Michael would have the box—that had to be where Zedd had left it. Zedd would have hidden it from Rahl with magic, and let the army protect it. He had to think of a way to show Michael who he was. Once he had the box, he would have Scarlet fly it up to her cave with her egg. There it would be safe from Rahl.

  Then he could go back to Kahlan and protect her from Rahl’s men. Maybe he could have Scarlet fly her to the cave, too. There she would be safe from the men.

  Three and a half days, and then Darken Rahl would die. Then Kahlan would be safe for sure. Forever. Then he would go back to Westland, and be finished with the magic. Be finished with Kahlan. The thought of never seeing her again made him weak with pain.

  Late in the afternoon, Scarlet spotted the army. She was better at seeing things from this height than he. They were still a long way off and Richard had to stare awhile. At first he saw only a wispy column of dust—then he saw the ranks, moving along a road.

  “Well, what’s your plan? What do you want to do?” she called back to him.

  “Do you think you could land us ahead of them, without letting them see us?”

  A big yellow eye frowned back at him. “I’m a red dragon. I could land us in the middle of them, and they wouldn’t see me, if I didn’t want them to. How close do you want to be to them?”

  “I don’t want them to see me. I have to get to Michael without his men seeing me. I need to avoid trouble.” Richard thought a moment. “Set us down a few hours’ march ahead of them. Let them come to us. It’ll be dark soon—then I can get to Michael.”

  Scarlet held her wings spread, gliding in a spiral toward hills ahead of the advancing army. She came down behind some of the higher ground, flew up the valleys, keeping out of sight of the road, and landed in a small clearing of long brown grass. Her bright red scales, glossy and lustrous, stood out in the late afternoon light. Richard slid off her shoulder.

  Her head came around. “What now?”

  “I want to wait until dark, until they set up camp for the night. After they eat, I’ll be able to sneak into Michael’s tent, and talk to him alone. I’ll think of a way to convince him of who I really am.”

  The dragon grumbled, looking up at the sky, and toward the road. Her head swung back around, tilting, a big yellow eye peering at him.

  “It will be dark soon. I must return to my egg. It needs to be warmed.”

  “I understand, Scarlet.” Richard let out a deep breath, thinking. “Come back for me in the morning. I’ll wait for you in this field at sunrise.”

  Scarlet looked up at the sky. “Clouds are gathering.” Her head came back do
wn. “If there are clouds, I can’t fly in them.”

  “Why?”

  She grunted, a puff of smoke rising from her nostrils. “Because clouds have rocks in them.”

  Richard frowned. “Rocks?”

  Her tail swished impatiently. “The clouds hide things—it’s like fog, you can’t see. When you can’t see, you run into things, like hills and mountains. I may be strong, but running into rock when I’m flying would break my neck. If the cloud bottoms are high enough, I can fly under them. If the tops are low enough, I can fly over them, but then I won’t be able to see the ground. I won’t be able to find you. What if there are clouds and I can’t find you, or what if something else goes wrong?”

  Richard rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, looking off toward the road. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll have to go back to my other three friends. I’ll try to stick to the main road, so you will be able to see me.” Richard swallowed hard. “If all else fails, I will have to go back to the People’s Palace. Please, Scarlet, if I can’t stop Rahl with what I do here, I must be in the People’s Palace three days from tomorrow.”

  “Not much time.”

  “I know.”

  “Three days from tomorrow, and then I’m done with you.”

  Richard smiled. “That’s our bargain.”

  Scarlet peered up once more. “I don’t like the look of the sky. Good luck, Richard Cypher. I will return in the morning.”

  She took a little run and lifted into the air. Richard watched her circle around him once, low, then fly off getting smaller, disappearing between hills. A memory struck him: the memory of having seen her before. It had been the day he had first met Kahlan, right after the snake vine had bit him. He had seen her fly overhead just as she had done now, and disappear behind hills. He wondered what she had been doing in Westland that day.

  Making his way through the tall, dry grass, Richard hiked to a nearby hill, climbing to the top of its sparsely wooded slope, where he could watch the approaches to the west. He found a well-hidden nook in the brush, made himself comfortable, and took out some dried meat and fruit. He found he even had a few apples left. He ate without enjoyment while he watched for the Westland army and his brother, wondering all the while what he could do to convince Michael of who he was.

  He thought of trying to write it out, or maybe even drawing a picture, or a map, but he had doubts that would work. If the enemy web around him changed his spoken words, it would probably change the written ones as well. He tried to think of games they had played when they were young, but none stood out in his mind. Michael hadn’t played all that much with him when they were young. Richard remembered that Michael only really liked fighting with play swords. He didn’t think pulling his sword on his brother would have the desired effect.

  But there was one thing, he remembered. When they had played at swords, Michael had liked Richard to salute him, while on one knee. Would Michael remember that? He had liked it done often—it made him smile more than anything else. Michael called it the loser’s salute. When Richard had won, Michael wouldn’t give him the salute, and Richard wasn’t his match in size at the time, and hadn’t ever been able to make Michael give the salute. But Michael had made Richard give it often enough. He smiled at the memory, though at the time it had hurt. Maybe Michael would remember. It was worth a try.

  Before dark came, Richard heard the sound of the horses coming, the sound of gear clattering, leather creaking, metal rattling, the sound of a lot of men on the move. About fifty well-armed horsemen rode past at a quick pace, raising dust and kicking up dirt. He saw Michael, dressed in white, at their lead. Richard recognized the uniforms, the Hartland crest on each shoulder, the yellow banner with a blue silhouette of a pine tree and crossed swords under it. Each man wore a short sword over his shoulder, had a battle-axe hooked to a wide belt, and carried a short spear. Their mail armor, called battle nets, sent sparks of light through the dust. These were not regular Westland soldiers—these were Michael’s personal guards.

  Where was the army? From the air, he had seen all of them together, horsemen and foot soldiers. These horses were moving too fast for foot soldiers at a march to keep up. Richard stood after they passed, looking back up the road to see if the others were to follow. No one else came.

  At first worried about what this could mean, he relaxed, when it came to him. Zedd, Chase, and Kahlan had left the box with Michael, and told him they were going to D’Hara, going after Richard. Michael probably couldn’t wait any longer, and was going himself to help. The foot soldiers couldn’t keep up the pace needed to reach the People’s Palace in time, so Michael had taken his personal guard and ridden on ahead, leaving the rest to catch up when they could.

  Fifty men, even Michael’s personal guard, tough as they were, were still not many if they ran into a good-size force of Rahl’s men. Richard guessed that Michael was putting his heart above his head.

  Richard didn’t catch them until well after dark. They had ridden hard, and stopped late. They had gotten farther ahead of him than he had expected, and it was well past dinner when he finally reached their camp. The horses had been tended to and picketed for the night. Some men were already in their bedrolls. Guards were posted, and hard to spot in the dark, but Richard knew where to expect them, as he looked down from a hilltop, watching the camp’s small fires.

  It was a dark night. Clouds hid the moon. He worked his way carefully down the hill, creeping silently between the guards. Richard was in his element. It was easy for him—he knew where they were, and they weren’t expecting him to be gliding through their midst. He watched them watching, and ducked down when they looked his way. Once inside the ring of guards, he made his way to the camp. Michael had made it easy for him—his tent was set off, away from the men. If he had put his tent among his men, it would have been more difficult. Still, there were guards around the tent. Richard studied them for a while, analyzing the weak points, until he found the place where he would pass between them: in the shadow of the tent, the shadow cast by the fires. The guards stayed to the light because they couldn’t see anything in the shadow.

  Richard stalked through the blackness, to the tent, and squatted down, making himself still, silent, low to the ground. He listened for a long time to determine if anyone was in the tent with Michael. He heard papers being shuffled, and there was a lamp burning, but he heard no one else inside. Carefully, he made a tiny cut with his knife, just enough to see through. He saw Michael’s left side to him as he sat at a small, collapsible field table, looking over papers. His head of unruly hair was cradled in one hand. The papers didn’t seem to have lines of words on them, and from what Richard could see, they were large. Probably maps.

  He had to get inside, stand tall, drop to one knee, and do his salute, before Michael had a chance to raise an alarm. Just inside, below him, was a cot. That was what he needed to hide his entry. Holding the rope taut so the canvas wouldn’t jerk back suddenly, Richard cut the tie down in about the center of where the cot sat, then lifted the edge of the canvas a little and rolled carefully underneath it, behind the cot.

  When Michael turned to a sound, Richard rose up in front of the little table, in front of his brother. Richard had a smile on his face at seeing his older brother again. Michael’s head snapped to him. The color left his soft cheeks. He leapt to his feet. Richard was just about to do his salute when Michael spoke.

  “Richard . . . how did you . . . What are you doing here? It’s . . . so . . . good to see you again. We have all been so . . . worried.”

  Richard’s smile withered.

  When the enemy web was put on him, Rahl had said those who honored Rahl would see Richard for who he was.

  Michael saw him for who he was.

  Michael was the one who had betrayed him. Michael was the one who allowed him to be captured and tortured by a Mord-Sith. Michael was the one who would give Kahlan and Zedd over to Darken Rahl. Michael was the one who would give everyone over to Darken Rahl. His
insides turned to ice.

  Richard could manage no more than a whisper. “Where is the box?”

  “Ah . . . you look hungry, Richard. Let me have some dinner brought in for you. We’ll have a talk. It’s been so long.”

  Richard kept his hand away from the sword, for fear he would use it. He sternly reminded himself that he was the Seeker, and that was all that mattered right now. He was not Richard—he was the Seeker. He had a job to do. He could not allow himself to be Richard. He could not allow himself to be Michael’s brother. There were more important things right now. Much more important.

  “Where is the box?”

  Michael’s eyes darted about. “The box . . . well . . . Zedd told me about it . . . He was going to give it to me . . . but then he said something about finding you in D’Hara by a stone of some sort, and the three of them went off after you. I told them I wanted to come too, to save my brother, but I had to get the men together, and prepare, so they started ahead of me. Zedd kept the box. He has it.”

  Richard now knew—Darken Rahl had the third box. Darken Rahl had spoken the truth.

  The Seeker suppressed his emotions and made a quick assessment of the situation. The only thing that mattered now was getting to Kahlan. If he lost his head now, she would be the one to suffer—she would be the one at the end of an Agiel. He found himself concentrating on a mental image of Denna’s braid. He let himself do it. Whatever worked, he told himself. He couldn’t kill Michael, couldn’t risk being captured by all those men outside. He couldn’t even let Michael know what he knew—that would accomplish nothing, and risk others.