Shroud of Eternity

by Terry Goodkind

  But his friend stepped farther back into his spacious cell.

  Vowing to return for him this time, Bannon bounded over to Nicci. The spell-branded panther prowled along beside her. Blood covered Mrra’s fangs, muzzle, and paws.

  “I didn’t know what had happened to you, Sorceress!” Bannon babbled, and he clumsily attempted to hug her. “They captured me, dragged me down here, forced me to fight. Where’s Nathan? What’s happened to you? I heard you were dead.”

  “You have too many questions,” she said in a low, hard voice. “I see you have your sword. That is all you need right now, not more answers. Fight with us. We must release these people, then move against the ruling council. Sovrena Thora intends to slaughter three hundred victims tonight and make the shroud permanent.”

  Bannon’s heart sank. “Then we have to stop it. And now we have an army.”

  “Yes,” Nicci said, “now we have an army.”

  The fighting had moved into the main gallery, the open area with several deep fighting pits dug out of the floor. Bannon had sweated and bled in those pits.

  The freed fighters ran forward, waving their swords, but they suddenly hesitated, backing away as four robed rebels were killed in short order, their bodies bursting into flame. Five deadly morazeth strode into the gallery, each one carrying her weapon of choice. “Back, all of you! Back to your cages.”

  Lila was among them. Bannon’s heart skipped a beat. He flinched and stepped back toward Nicci and the sand panther, squeezing his grip on Sturdy’s hilt.

  Nicci, Bannon, and Mrra strode ahead, their steps in tandem. Nicci’s blond hair crackled with magic, flowing like a comet’s tail behind her head. She spoke to the morazeth. “The cages will not hold them, and you no longer control these people.”

  Bannon stepped up beside Nicci, facing the group of morazeth and forcing a brave tone that he didn’t necessarily feel. “All of us will fight you, and we will win—you trained us well enough.”

  Lila sneered at him and came forward, selecting her obvious target. “I’ve just been playing with you, boy. The real training is about to begin.” She wielded a sword with her right hand, a dagger with her left, and an even sharper smile on her face.

  But he had Sturdy.

  While Bannon defended himself against his opponent, Nicci and Mrra threw themselves against the other morazeth, who seemed surprised by the furious resistance. Mrra slashed with her claws, bit down hard with her curved fangs, and tore one of the attackers to a bloody mess.

  More female fighters swarmed in, clattering their blades. They fought around the edges of the various circular pits, some shallow and empty, some connected to a lower network of tunnels. The pit nearest Bannon had curved iron spikes on the walls, like the spines of a giant thistle, to prevent any subjects from escaping.

  Facing Lila, Bannon stayed several steps from the edge, not wanting to fall in. He would fight her out in the open. Free. Once he defeated Lila, once he battered her the way she had battered him, he would escape into the city with all these other fighters.

  And, he desperately hoped, with Ian.

  In black sandals laced up to the knees and the short leather wrap, Lila did not appear imposing, but Bannon knew full well how deadly she could be. She gripped her sword, carving hypnotic patterns in the air with its tip. She jabbed the point in the air, trying to distract him—which convinced Bannon that her real attack would come from her dagger. That was how she intended to kill him.

  Yes, Lila had taught him, but perhaps his morazeth trainer didn’t know exactly how much he had learned from her.

  She thrust fiercely with the short sword at the same time as she slipped her dagger up in a stealthy arc, intending to plunge it into his ribs. Bannon dodged the feint and swung Sturdy sideways to deflect the much smaller knife. The discolored blade smashed into the dagger, twisting Lila’s wrist. She gasped in pain and jerked her hand away. The dagger clattered to the floor, bounced, and fell into the deep spike-walled pit beside them.

  Anger flashed in Lila’s eyes, and then she laughed. “A good trick! I see you’ve been learning, boy.”

  “You’ve taught me a lot. I’ll put it to practice right now.”

  “I have much more to show you.” She slashed with her sword, trying to intimidate him. “If you survive today.”

  “Maybe you won’t survive to teach me.”

  “Then you would miss me,” she taunted. She swung the blade, but he parried with his longer sword.

  On the other side of the pit, Nicci and Mrra fought two of the morazeth. Long red lines marred the sand panther’s tawny hide, but she lunged forward and snapped the neck of one of the warrior women, while Nicci used both of her daggers and unleashed a surge of magic into the wooden knout her morazeth opponent used. The knout turned into a torch in the woman’s hands, and she thrashed the blazing end in Nicci’s face.

  Letting one dagger drop, Nicci caught the flaming end in her bare hand, extinguished it with her gift, then plunged her second dagger into the morazeth’s throat. With a grunt, she tossed the dead body down into the pit beside her. The morazeth didn’t fall all the way down. Her body was impaled on the curved iron spikes and hung there like an insect thrust onto a tree thorn by a shrike bird.

  Lila had been lulling Bannon, teasing him, but now she flung herself at him with full fury. She was a fierce dervish of attack, her white teeth clenched. Bannon quickly found himself on the defensive. He could barely keep his balance. She hammered at him, made him stagger. His foot brushed the edge of the spike-walled pit, and he nearly slipped. He caught his balance by propping the tip of Sturdy on the ground and swinging his other hand. Lila drove in for the kill.

  She stopped as if she had been yanked back by a leash. Her head lolled; her gaze reeled. Her face turned chalky pale as she collapsed, falling forward onto the floor, the back of her head bloodied.

  Ian stood behind her, holding a sword. He had struck her with the flat of the blade to render her unconscious.

  Panting and shuddering, Bannon looked at the limp form of his lovely morazeth trainer. Ian stood over her, unsettled and uncertain. “You needed help. I saved you again.”

  “Thank you, Ian,” he nearly sobbed. His friend had come back! “This time we’ll both get away.”

  The fighters kept battling as more black-clad morazeth dashed into the fray, coming through from the arena tunnels. Adessa arrived, a brooding knot of energy, her dark eyes glittering. “You will all die this night—if I have to kill you myself.”

  Bannon’s heart froze.

  Ian turned to Adessa, stony and determined. The champion braced himself, crouched into a well-practiced fighting stance. He rippled with precisely calibrated energy. Bannon had seen him fight in the arena, but he knew this battle would be greater than any of Ian’s other challenges. The scarred young man extended his free hand and shoved Bannon in the chest, forcing him backward and away from the fight. “Go! You said it yourself—get away.”

  “I won’t leave you! I left you once before.”

  Ian flashed a quick glance at him. “And because of that, I’m now the best fighter in all of Ildakar. Let me prove it.” Warm sincerity infused his eyes. “This time it’s my choice, Bannon. You need have no guilt about it.”

  Adessa locked her eyes on the defiant man and bounded forward on lithe, spell-branded legs, holding up her blade, clenching her gauntleted fist. “Come then, lover.” She curled her lips in a dark smile. “I can’t get enough of your flesh against mine.”

  Ian braced himself, facing her with his sword. Adessa held her own blade just within striking distance, murder in her eyes, prepared to kill the young man who stood in front of her.

  Bannon retreated toward Nicci and Mrra as they turned.

  Ian was ready to fight, but there was something strange about his stance. Bannon saw it for just an instant. Ian’s short sword drooped; his muscles tensed; his empty hand curved outward. As Adessa fell upon him, he reached up to grab her gauntleted arm, swept out with h
is right foot, caught her behind the ankles, and knocked her legs out from under her. In the same flow, he drove forward using her own momentum, spinning the two of them off balance. He pushed off sideways, launching them both over the edge of the deep fighting pit.

  Bannon screamed, “Ian, no!”

  After a long fall, the two landed hard on the sand and ashes, miraculously avoiding the sharp spines on the walls. The sword was knocked out of Adessa’s grip. She lay stunned for only a moment before she scrambled away from Ian just as he got to his feet. Shaking his head, he fumbled on the ground and retrieved his own sword. He could have killed Adessa right then if he’d struck quickly enough. The morazeth leader was disoriented by the fall, disarmed. Suddenly her attention snapped back. She tensed like a snake.

  Though she no longer had her sword, she snatched the small black handle of the agile knife at her hip. She held it up, as if to remind him of all the pain it signified. “Is that how you like to play, lover? Think of all the pleasures I’ve given you. You are my special one, my champion.”

  “I’ve received much from you … and not all of it was pleasure.”

  She prowled around him, and he held up his sword, which was much longer than her agile knife. She could not get close enough to strike him with the short needle point. They circled each other warily; then she spotted her short sword, which had fallen to the ground. Adessa bounded across the sand, grabbed it in her gauntleted hand, and now faced him with two weapons.

  Bannon could only watch. Those two were far out of reach below. In the main gallery, the fighting continued around them. He wanted to shout support for Ian, or even jump down and fight at his friend’s side, but he didn’t dare distract him. Adessa could kill in an instant.

  Ian and the morazeth leader continued their deadly duel, blade against blade, and Adessa slashed with her needle-pointed agile knife like the stinger of a scorpion. But Ian was the champion, and he fought as well as his mistress and trainer.

  She threw herself at him, ferociously swinging her short sword and slashing a long wound down his left arm, but Ian punched her with his empty fist and sent her stumbling on the loose sand. Adessa fell backward, twisting her body, and struck the wall. One of the iron spikes dug a deep red gouge along her shoulder blade.

  Adessa didn’t seem to feel any pain, did not pause to recover. She threw herself forward, driving hard with her sword. Ian fought magnificently, but he hesitated. Bannon suddenly realized that his friend didn’t want to kill her.

  Adessa jeered, “What’s the matter? Are you afraid of me, Champion?”

  He responded as he had been trained to do, as he had been provoked to do. With a roar, he drove harder, battering her with his sword, smashing her blade away, hitting harder and harder, until he broke her wrist, knocking the sword away from her. The blade dropped to the arena floor, and he pounded the pommel of his sword against the side of her head. With an additional shove from his empty hand, he sent her sprawling onto the ground near the iron spikes. “I am not afraid of you.”

  She was disarmed, propped on her elbows, shuddering and bleeding from the gash in her shoulder. Her sword arm hung limp with the broken bone. Ian stood over her, his sword raised for the deathblow.

  “I am your lover,” she said. “Don’t you remember all the pleasure I gave you?”

  Ian’s face was stony. He pointed his blade down, ready to plunge it through her heart. He hesitated, as she seemed to know he would.

  “You can’t kill me, because there’s something you don’t know.” Her face twisted in a smile. “For these last four weeks I have been carrying your child.”

  Ian was taken completely by surprise. He froze for just part of a second.

  In that moment, Adessa snatched the object she had been covering with her body, the weapon she had found in the sand at the base of the pit. Lila’s dagger, which Bannon had knocked down there.

  The morazeth woman grabbed the knife in her good hand and lunged like a cobra striking. She swept up with the blade, using all of her momentum as she drove her body upward with her legs. She thrust the dagger into the center of Ian’s chest, shoving it deep and twisting it in his heart.

  He gasped, coughed blood, and hung like a dead yaxen on a hook.

  “Ian!” Bannon screamed. “Ian!”

  But his friend was already dead, and Adessa was too far below.

  “Now you have made me angry, boy,” said another razor-edged feminine voice. Bannon turned just in time to see Lila, recovered now. She had picked herself up from the ground and charged toward him, her blade raised to kill him.

  Though sickened and stunned by the death of Ian, Bannon spun to defend himself.

  Nicci stepped in just behind Lila and slammed the pommel of one of her daggers down hard, bashing the morazeth woman on the already bloodied back of her skull. Lila dropped like a felled tree, crashing to the sandstone floor above the arena pits. Next to her, Mrra roared.

  Bannon felt frozen, horrified. He stared down at Ian’s bloody form as Adessa cast the body aside, but she was too far down in the pit. He couldn’t get to her.

  Lila lay unconscious next to him, blood matting her short light brown hair.

  Beside him, Nicci scowled at Adessa. They both wished to be down there to tear the woman apart, but Nicci had a determined sheen in her eyes. Mrra thrashed her tail.

  “We can fight here all night, Bannon, but we have a more important battle out in the city. We have to stop the bloodworking at the pyramid. Come with me. First, we need to find Nathan.”

  CHAPTER 73

  Once inside Cliffwall and surrounded by the smell of books and scrolls, Prelate Verna felt as if the Creator had rewarded her beyond her wildest dreams. She felt giddy over the wondrous information on shelf after shelf, room after room, tower after tower.

  Oliver and Peretta had returned home to a great deal of rejoicing. The veteran scholars rushed out to greet them, full of questions, as well as news of their own. Peretta introduced her aunt Gloria, the new leader of the memmers. Oliver happily brought forward Franklin, an owl-eyed gifted scholar who did not seem ready for any sort of leadership role, although he was the new scholar-archivist.

  While most of the D’Haran soldiers built their camp on the canyon floor, the general, the prelate, and the two young travelers had climbed the narrow path up the cliffside. In the cavernous alcove filled with enormous buildings, other scholars met them, leading the visitors inside the great archive.

  Before they entered the imposing stone façades, Peretta gestured toward the canyon vista. “This was covered by a camouflage shroud for thousands of years. Few ever discovered these canyons at all, and if outsiders did look up at this cliff, they saw only a blank wall rather than these buildings.”

  “But now the hidden knowledge is open and available to all,” Oliver said.

  “Yes,” General Zimmer said in a deep, serious growl. “And that concerns us greatly. The Sisters will certainly help.”

  The numerous scholars gathered in a main communal room, while workers hurried to prepare a midday meal. The general made sure that his soldiers and their mounts were cared for below. “The horses can water at the stream and graze in the pastures alongside the sheep, but my men will be tired of eating pack food. If I could press upon your hospitality?”

  Gloria dispatched her memmers to see that it was done. Verna sat on a long bench in the dining room, as servers hurried in with platters of meats and fruit, baskets of bread. Verna selected a small green apple from the top of the fruit bowl, turned it in her hand to inspect for worms. Finding none, she bit into it and savored the tart juiciness. She let out an appreciative sigh.

  Franklin addressed them all, happy to meet Verna, the general, and their companions. “Nicci spoke of the Sisters of the Light, and we wished we had someone like you to guide us. We are pleased you came so soon.”

  “We hurried,” Peretta said. “After talking with Prelate Verna, we decided it was important for us to lead them back here.”

&
nbsp; “We sorely needed you,” Franklin said, scratching his brown hair as he gave a thankful nod to Verna. “Scholar-Archivist Simon was killed, and then we also lost Victoria. We have been muddling along, but we weren’t sure how best to select a leader. There’s so much work to do.”

  Gloria added, “We promised Nicci we would not attempt any of the magic we found in the books. We’re merely trying to organize and catalog the thousands of volumes.”

  “We’ve been told that our books on prophecy are no longer relevant,” Franklin said. “Useless, in fact.”

  Verna let out a sad sigh. “Yes, I spent much of my life studying prophecy, learning the meanings of countless books, tracing various forks, interpreting possibilities, all for naught. When the Palace of the Prophets was destroyed along with that copious knowledge, I thought my way of life was ended.” She forced a hard smile. “But I endured. The rest of the Sisters endured. We served Lord Rahl, and we found extensive libraries in the People’s Palace and other central sites. We decided to learn what we could and preserve the information. Then, with the star shift…” She shook her head again.

  Amber spoke up, holding a fresh hunk of bread in her hand. “Now we have a different focus. We can help you.”

  “We can guide you,” Verna corrected. “My Sisters and I trained many students, including Richard Rahl himself. And although the rules of magic are now different in unpredictable ways, we shall learn, and you’ll learn along with us.”

  Peretta added, “The memmers have to learn how to be scholars as well. Oliver agreed to show me.”

  Beside her, Oliver blinked as if the news was a surprise to him. “I … well, of course I will.”

  More servers brought in bowls of steamed leaves and sliced tubers topped with dollops of melting sheep’s butter. “It’s delicious,” General Zimmer said, as one of the scholars passed him a platter of cold mutton roast. He carved some of the meat with his own knife, then cut off a piece for Verna. “Prelate?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Franklin said, “Ever since Nicci, Nathan, and Bannon left us, we’ve been rebuilding. We are returning to normal. Settlers are coming back to reclaim what was once the Scar.”