Faith of the Fallen tsot-6

by Terry Goodkind

  But Shota didn’t simply fear Kahlan giving birth to a male Confessor; she feared something of potentially far greater magnitude—a male Confessor who possessed Richard’s gift. Shota had foretold that Kahlan and Richard would conceive a male child. Shota viewed such a child as an evil monster, dangerous beyond comprehension, and so had vowed to kill their offspring. To prevent such a thing from being required, she had given them the necklace to keep Kahlan from becoming pregnant. They had taken it reluctantly. The alternative was war with the witch woman.

  It was for reasons such as this that Richard abhorred prophecy.

  Kahlan watched as Captain Meiffert spoke the devotion a third time, Cara’s lips moving with his. The soft chant was making Kahlan sleepy.

  It was a luxury for Kahlan to be able to be down with Richard and Cara in the sheltered camp, beside the warmth of the fire, rather than having to stay in the carriage, especially since the night had turned chilly and damp.

  With the litter they could move her more easily and without causing her much pain. Richard would have made the litter sooner, but he hadn’t expected to have to abandon the house he had started to build.

  They were far off the narrow, forsaken road, in a tiny clearing concealed in a cleft in a steep rock wall behind a dense expanse of pine and spruce. A small meadow close by provided a snug paddock for the horses.

  Richard and Cara had pulled the carriage off the road, behind a mass of deadfall, and hidden it with spruce and balsam boughs. No one but a D’Haran bonded to their Lord Rahl had much of a chance of ever finding them in the vast and trackless forest.

  The secluded spot had a fire pit Richard had dug and ringed with rocks during a previous stay, nearly a year before. It hadn’t been used since. A protruding shelf of rock about seven or eight feet above them prevented the light of the campfire from shining up the rock wall, helping keep the camp hidden. Its slope also kept them snug and dry in the drizzle that had begun to fall. With a fog closing in, too, it was as protected and secure a campsite as Kahlan had ever seen. Richard had been true to his word.

  It had taken more like six hours than four to reach the campsite.

  Richard had proceeded slowly for Kahlan’s sake. It was late and they were all tired from a long day of traveling, to say nothing of the attack.

  Richard had told her that it looked like it might rain for a day or two, and they would stay in the camp and rest up until the weather cleared. There was no urgency to get where they were going.

  After the third devotion, Captain Meiffert came haltingly to his feet.

  He clapped his right fist to the leather over his heart in salute. Richard smiled and the two men clasped forearms in a less formal greeting.

  “How are you doing, Captain?” Richard grasped the man’s elbow. “What’s the matter? Did you fall off your horse, or something?”

  The captain glanced at Cara, to his side. “Ah, well, I’m fine, Lord Rahl. Really.”

  “You look hurt.”

  “I just had my ribs . . . tickled, by your Mord-Sith, that’s all.”

  “I didn’t do it hard enough to break them,” Cara scoffed.

  “I’m truly sorry, Captain. We had a bit of trouble earlier today. Cara was no doubt worried for our safety when she saw you approaching in the dark.” Richard’s eyes turned toward Cara. “But she still should have been more careful before risking injuring people. I’m sure she’s sorry and will want to apologize.”

  Cara made a sour face. “It was dark. I’m not about to take any foolish chances with the life of our Lord Rahl just so—”

  “I would hope not,” Captain Meiffert put in before Richard could reprimand her. He smiled at Cara. “I was once kicked by a stalwart warhorse. You did a better job of putting me down, Mistress Cara. I’m gratified to find Lord Rahl’s life is in capable hands. If sore ribs are the price, I willingly accept it.”

  Cara’s face brightened. The captain’s simple concession disarmed a potentially nettlesome situation.

  “Well, if the ribs bother you, let me know,” Cara said dryly, “and I’ll kiss them and make them better.” In the silence, as Richard glowered at her, she scratched her ear and finally added, “Anyway, sorry. But I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “As I said, a price I willingly pay. Thank you for your vigilance.”

  “What are you doing here, Captain?” Richard asked. “General Reibisch send you to see if the Lord Rahl is crazy?”

  Although it was impossible to tell in the firelight, Kahlan was sure that the man’s face turned scarlet. “No, of course not, Lord Rahl. It’s just that the general wanted you to have a full report.”

  “I see.” Richard glanced down at their dinner pot. “When’s the last time you ate, Captain? You look a little drawn, besides having sore ribs.”

  “Well, ah, I’ve been riding hard, Lord Rahl. I guess yesterday I must have eaten something. I’m fine, though. I can have something after—”

  “Sit down, then.” Richard gestured. “Let me get you something hot to eat. It will do you good.”

  As the man reluctantly settled down on the mossy ground beside Kahlan and Cara, Richard scooped some rice and beans into a bowl. He cut a big piece of bannock from what he’d left to cool on the griddle off to the side of the fire. He held the bowl out to the man. Captain Meiffert saw no way to prevent it, and was now mortified to find himself being served by none other than the Lord Rahl himself.

  Richard had to lift the food toward him a second time before he took it. “It’s only some rice and beans, Captain. It’s not like I’m giving you Cara’s hand in marriage.”

  Cara guffawed. “Mord-Sith don’t marry. They simply take a man for a mate if they wish him—he gets no say in it.”

  Richard glanced up at her. Kahlan knew by Richard’s tone that he hadn’t meant anything by the comment but he didn’t laugh with Cara. He knew all too well the truth of her words. Such an act was not an act of love, but altogether the opposite. In the uncomfortable silence, Cara realized what she’d said, and decided to break some branches down and feed them to the fire.

  Kahlan knew that Denna, the Mord-Sith who had captured Richard, had taken him for her mate. Cara knew it, too. When Richard would sometimes wake with a start and cling to her, Kahlan wondered if his nightmares were of things imaginary or real. When she kissed his sweat-slicked brow and asked what he had dreamed, he never remembered. She was thankful for that much of it.

  Richard retrieved a long stick that had been propped against one of the rocks ringing the fire. With his finger, he slid several sizzling pieces of bacon off the stick and into the captain’s bowl, and then set the big piece of bannock on top. They had with them a variety of food. Kahlan shared the carnage with all the supplies Richard had picked up along their journey north to Hartland. They had enough staples to last for a good long time.

  “Thank you,” Captain Meiffert stammered. He brushed back his fall of blond hair. “It looks delicious.”

  “It is,” Richard said. “You’re lucky: I made dinner tonight, instead of Cara.”

  Cara, proud of being a poor cook, smiled as if it were an accomplishment of note.

  Kahlan was sure it was a story that would be repeated to wide eyes and stunned disbelief: the Lord Rahl himself serving food to one of his men. By the way the captain ate, she guessed it had been longer than a day since he had eaten. As big as he was, she figured he had to need a lot of food.

  He swallowed and looked up. “My horse.” He began to stand. “When Mistress Cara . . . I forgot my horse. I need—”

  “Eat your food.” Richard stood and clapped Captain Meiffert’s shoulder to keep him seated. “I was going to check on our horses anyway. I’ll see to yours as well. I’m sure it would like some water and oats, too.”

  “But, Lord Rahl, I can’t allow you to—”

  “Eat. This will save time; when I get back, you’ll be done and then you can give me your report.” Richard’s shape became indistinct as he dissolved into the shadows,
leaving only a disembodied voice behind. “But I’m afraid I still won’t have any orders for General Reibisch.”

  In the stillness, crickets once again took up their rhythmic chirping.

  Some distance away, Kahlan heard a night bird calling. Beyond the nearby trees, the horses whinnied contentedly, probably when Richard greeted them. Every once in a while a feather of mist strayed in under the overhang to dampen her cheek. She wished she could turn on her side and close her eyes. Richard had given her some herb tea and it was beginning to make her drowsy. At least it dulled the pain, too.

  “How are you, Mother Confessor?” Captain Meiffert asked. “Everyone is terribly worried about you.”

  A Confessor wasn’t often confronted with such honest and warm concern.

  The young man’s simple question was so sincere it almost brought Kahlan to tears.

  “I’m getting better, Captain. Tell everyone I’ll be fine after I’ve had some time to heal. We’re going someplace quiet where I can enjoy the fresh air of the arriving summer and get some rest. I’ll be better before autumn, I’m sure. By then, I hope Richard will be of the war.”

  The captain smiled. “Everyone will be relieved to know you’re healing. I can’t tell you how many people told me that when I return they want to hear how you’re doing.”

  “Tell them I said I’ll be fine and I asked for them not to worry anymore about me, but to take care of themselves.”

  He ate another spoonful. Kahlan saw in his eyes that there was more to the man’s anxiety. It took him a moment before he addressed it.

  “We are concerned, too, that you and Lord Rahl need protection.”

  Cara, already sitting straight, nevertheless managed to straighten more, at the same time making the subtle shift in her posture appear threatening. “Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor are not without protection, Captain; they have me. Anything more than a Mord-Sith is just pretty brass buttons.”

  This time, he didn’t back down. His voice rang with the clear tone of authority. “This is not a matter of disrespect, Mistress Cara, nor is presumption intended. Like you, I am sworn to their safety, and that is my proper concern. These brass buttons have met the enemy before in the defense of Lord Rahl, and I don’t really believe a Mord-Sith would want to deter me from that duty for no more reason than petty pride.”

  “We’re going to a remote and secluded place,” Kahlan said, before Cara could answer. “I think our solitude, and Cara, will be ample protection. If Richard wishes it otherwise, he will say so.”

  With a reluctant nod, he accepted her answer. The last of it, anyway, settled the matter.

  When Richard had taken Kahlan north, he had left their guard forces behind. She knew it was deliberate, probably part of his conviction about what he felt he had to do. Richard wasn’t opposed to the concept of protection; in the past, he had accepted troops being with them. Cara, too, had been insistent on having the security of those troops along. It was different, though, for Cara to admit it directly to Captain Meiffert.

  They had spent a good deal of time in Anderith with the captain and his elite forces. Kahlan knew him to be a superb officer. She thought he must be approaching his mid-twenties—probably a soldier for a decade already and the veteran of a number of campaigns, from minor rebellions to open warfare. The sharp wholesome lines of his face were just beginning to take on a mature set.

  Over millennia, through war, migration, and occupation, other cultures had mixed in with the D’Haran, leaving a blend of peoples. Tall and broad-shouldered, Captain Meiffert was marked as full-blooded D’Haran by blond hair and blue eyes, as was Cara. The bond was strongest in full-blooded D’Harans.

  After he had finished about half his rice, he glanced over his shoulder, into the darkness where Richard had gone. His earnest blue eyes took in both Cara and Kahlan.

  “I don’t mean it to sound judgmental or personal, and I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but may I ask you both a . . . a sensitive question?”

  “You may, Captain,” Kahlan said. “But I can’t promise we will answer it.”

  The last part gave him pause for a moment, but then he went on.

  “General Reibisch and some of the other officers . . . well, there have been worried discussions about Lord Rahl. We trust in him, of course,” he was quick to add. “We really do. It’s just that . . .”

  “So what are your concerns, then, Captain?” Cara put in, her brow drawing tight. “If you trust him so much.”

  He stirred his wooden spoon around the bowl. “I was there in Anderith through the whole thing. I know how hard he worked—and you, too, Mother Confessor. No Lord Rahl before him ever worried about what the people wanted. In the past, the only thing that mattered was what the Lord Rahl wanted. Then, after all that, the people rejected his offer—rejected him. He sent us back to the main force, and just left us”—he gestured around himself—“to come here. Out in the middle of nowhere. To be a recluse, or something.” He paused while searching for the right words. “We don’t . . . understand it, exactly.”

  He looked up from the fire, back into their eyes, as he went on. “We’re worried that Lord Rahl has lost his will to fight—that he simply no longer cares. Or perhaps . . . he is afraid to fight?”

  The look on his face told Kahlan that he feared reprisal for saying the things he said, and for asking such a question, but he needed the answer enough to risk it. This was probably why he had come to give a report, rather than send a simple messenger.

  “About six hours before he cooked that nice dinner pot of rice and beans,” Cara said in a casual manner, “he killed a couple dozen men. All by himself. Hacked them apart like I’ve never seen before. The violence of it shocked even me. He left only one man for me to dispatch. Quite unfair of him, I think.”

  Captain Meiffert looked positively relieved as he let out a long breath. He looked away from Cara’s steady gaze and back into his bowl to stir his dinner.

  “That news will be well received. Thank you for telling me, Mistress Cara.”

  “He can’t issue orders,” Kahlan said, “because he unequivocally believes that, for now, if he takes part in leading our forces against the Imperial Order, it would bring about our defeat. He believes that if he enters the battle too soon, we will then have no chance of ever winning. He believes he must wait for the right time, that’s all. There’s nothing more to it.”

  Kahlan felt a bit conflicted, helping to justify Richard’s actions, when she wasn’t entirely in favor of them. She felt it was necessary to check the advance of the Imperial Order’s army now, and not give them a chance to freely pillage and murder the people of the New World.

  The captain mulled this over as he ate some bannock. He frowned as he gestured with the piece he had left. “There is sound battle theory for such a strategy. If you have any choice in it, you only attack when it’s on your terms, not the enemy’s.”

  He became more spirited as he thought about it a moment. “It is better to hold an attack for the right moment, despite the damage an enemy can cause in the interim, than to go into a battle before the right time. Such would be an act of poor command.”

  “That’s right.” Kahlan laid her arm back and rested her right wrist on her brow. “Perhaps you could explain it to the other officers in those words—that it’s premature to issue orders, and he’s waiting for the proper time. I don’t think that’s really any different from the way Richard has explained it to us, but perhaps it would be better understood if put in such terms.”

  The captain ate the last bite of his bannock, seeming to think it over.

  “I trust Lord Rahl with my life. I know the others do, too, but I think they will be reassured by such an explanation as to why he is withholding his orders. I can see now why he had to leave us—it was to resist the temptation to throw himself into the fray before the time was right.”

  Kahlan wished she was as confident of the reasoning as the captain. She recalled Cara’s question, wondering how the peo
ple could prove themselves to Richard. She knew he would not be inclined to try it through a vote again, but she didn’t see how else the people could prove themselves to him.

  “I’d not mention it to Richard,” she said. “It’s difficult for him—not being able to issue orders. He’s trying to do what he believes is right, but it’s a difficult course to hold to.”

  “I understand, Mother Confessor. ‘In his wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are his.’ ”

  Kahlan studied the smooth lines and simple angles of his young face lit by the dancing firelight. In that face, she saw some of what Richard had been trying to say to her before. “Richard doesn’t believe your lives are his, Captain, but that they are your own, and priceless. That is what he is fighting for.”

  He chose his words carefully; if he wasn’t worried about her being the Mother Confessor, since he hadn’t grown up fearing the power and the rule of such a woman, she was still the Lord Rahl’s wife.

  “Most of us see how different he is from the last Lord Rahl. I’m not claiming that any of us understands everything about him, but we know he fights to defend, rather than to conquer. As a soldier, I know the difference it makes to believe in what I’m fighting for, because . . .”

  The captain looked away from her gaze. He lifted a short branch of firewood, tapping the end on the ground for a time. His voice took on a painful inflection, “Because it takes something precious out of you to kill people who never meant you any harm.”

  The fire crackled and hissed as he slowly stirred the glowing coals.

  Sparks swirled up to spill out from around the underside of the rock overhang.

  Cara watched her Agiel as she rolled it in her fingers. “You . . . feel that way too?”

  Captain Meiffert met Cara’s gaze. “I never realized, before, what it was doing to me, inside. I didn’t know. Lord Rahl makes me proud to be D’Haran. He makes it stand for something right. . . . It never did before. I thought that the way things were, was just the way things were, and they could never change.”