Faith of the Fallen tsot-6

by Terry Goodkind

  “How long ago?” Kahlan asked without any greetings.

  “Just now,” General Meiffert said. “They’re taking their time striking camp. They’re not organizing for an attack. They’re simply forming up to move out.”

  Kahlan rubbed her fingertips against her brow. “Any word on the direction?”

  The general shifted his posture, betraying his frustration. “The scouts say that by all indications they’re going north, but nothing more specific than that, yet.”

  “They aren’t coming after us?”

  “They could always change course, or send an army over here, but right now, it appears they aren’t interested in coming in here after us.”

  “Jagang doesn’t need to come after us,” Warren said. Kahlan thought he looked a little pale. Small wonder. She imagined they were all a little pale. “Jagang has to know we are going to come at him: He’s not going to bother coming in here after us.”

  Kahlan couldn’t dispute his logic. “If he goes north, he has to know we’re not going to sit here and wave good-bye.”

  The emperor had changed his tactics—again. Kahlan had never seen a commander like him. Most military men had their preferred methods. If they had once won a battle in a certain way, they would suffer a dozen losses with the same tactics, thinking it had to work because it once had. Some were limited by their intellect. Those were easy enough to read; they usually waged an artless campaign, content to throw men into a meat grinder, hoping to clog it with sheer numbers. Some leaders were clever, inventing tactics as they went. Those often thought too much of themselves and ended up on the point of a simple pike. Others slavishly went about using textbook tactics, thinking of war as a kind of game, and that each side should oblige the other by following rules.

  Jagang was different. He learned to read his enemy. He held to no favored method. After Kahlan had hit him with quick limited attacks driven into the center of his camp, he learned the tactic and, instead of relying on his overpowering numbers, sent the same kind of attack back at the D’Haran army to good effect. Some men could be driven to making foolish mistakes by shaming them. Jagang didn’t make the same mistake twice. He reined in his pride and changed his tactics again, not obliging Kahlan with foolhardy counterattacks.

  The D’Harans had still managed to carve him up. They had taken out Imperial Order troops in unprecedented numbers. Their own losses, while painful, were remarkably low considering what they had accomplished.

  Winter, though, had killed far more of the enemy than anything Kahlan and her men could conceive. The Imperial Order, being from far to the south, was unfamiliar with and ill prepared for winter in the New World. Well over half a million men had frozen to death. Several hundred thousand more had succumbed to fevers and sickness from the harsh life in the field.

  The winter alone had cost Jagang nearly three-quarters of a million men. It was almost beyond comprehension.

  Kahlan now commanded roughly three hundred thousand troops in the southern reaches of the Midlands. Under ordinary circumstances, that would be a force capable of crushing any enemy.

  The men streaming up from the Old World had replaced the enemy losses several times over. Jagang’s army was now well over two and a half million men. It grew by the day.

  Jagang had been content to sit tight for the winter. Fighting in such conditions was, for the most part, impossible. He had wisely waited out the weather. When spring had come, he still sat. Apparently, he was smart enough to know that warfare in spring mud was a deadly undertaking. In the muddy season, you could lose your supply wagons if they got strung out. Streams became impassable floods. Losing wagons was a slow death by starvation. Cavalry were next to useless in the mud. Losses to falls in a cavalry charge cost valuable mounts, to say nothing of the men. Soldiers could make an attack, of course, but without supporting services, it was likely to be a bloodbath for no real gain.

  Jagang had sat out the spring mud. His minions had used the time to spread the word about “Jagang the Just.” Kahlan was infuriated when she got reports, weeks after the fact, about “envoys of peace” who had shown up in various cities throughout the Midlands, giving speeches about bringing the world together for the good of all mankind. They promised piece and prosperity, if they were welcomed into cities.

  Now, with summer finally upon them, Jagang was beginning his campaign anew. He planned his troops to now visit those cities his envoys had been to.

  The door burst open. It was not the wind, but Rikka. The Mord-Sith looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

  Cara went to her side, to be ready to offer assistance if requested, but didn’t directly lend a hand for support. A Mord-Sith did not look favorably upon help in front of others.

  Rikka stepped up to the table, opposite Kahlan, and tossed two Agiel down atop the map.

  Kahlan closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up into Rikka’s fierce blue eyes. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know, Mother Confessor. I found their heads impaled on pikes. Their Agiel were tied to the pikes.”

  Kahlan held her anger in check. “Are you satisfied, now, Rikka?”

  “Galina and Solvig died as Mord-Sith would want to die.”

  “Galina and Solvig died for nothing, Rikka. After the first four, we knew it wouldn’t work. With the dream walker in their minds, the gifted are not vulnerable to Mord-Sith in the way that would otherwise be the case.”

  “It could have been something else. If we can catch their gifted where the Mord-Sith can get at them, then we might be able to take them out. It’s worth the risk. Their gifted can cut down thousands of soldiers with a sweep of their hand.”

  “I understand the wish, Rikka. Wishing, however, does not make it possible. We have six dead Mord-Sith to show us the reality of what is. We will not throw away the lives of any more because we refuse to recognize the truth of it.”

  “I still think—”

  “Those of us here have important things to decide; I don’t have time for this.” Kahlan put her fists on the table and leaned toward the woman. “I am the Mother Confessor, and the wife to Lord Rahl. You will do as I say or you will leave. Do you understand?”

  Rikka’s blue eyes shifted to Cara. Cara stood as expressive as a stone.

  Rikka looked back at Kahlan and let out a long sigh.

  “I wish to remain with our forces and do my duty.”

  “Fine. Now, go get yourself something to eat while you still have a chance. We need you to be strong.”

  For a Mord-Sith, Rikka’s little nod was about as close to a salute as it came. After she was gone, Kahlan swatted at the plague of mosquitoes and returned her attention to the map.

  “So,” she said, removing the two Agiel from the map, “who has any suggestions?”

  “I’d say we have to keep at their edges,” Zedd offered. “Obviously, we can’t be throwing ourselves in front of them. We can do nothing but to continue to fight them as we have been doing.”

  “I agree,” Verna said.

  General Meiffert rubbed his chin as he stared down at the map spread out before them on the table. “What we have to worry about is his size.”

  “Well, of course we have to worry about the size of the Order,” Kahlan said. “They have enough men to split up and still be too huge to handle. That’s what I’m talking about—what we’re going to do when he splits. If I were him, that’s what I’d do. He knows how it would complicate our lives.”

  There was an urgent knock. Warren, over by the window, not bothering to look at the map with the rest of them, opened the door.

  Captain Zimmer stepped in, giving a quick salute of his fist to his heart. Panting as he entered, he brought with him a swirling rush of warm air that smelled like a horse. Ignoring the rest of them, Warren returned to his brooding at the window.

  “He’s splitting his force,” Captain Zimmer announced, as if their fear had given birth to the reality.

  Most in the room sighed unhappily with the news.

&
nbsp; “Any direction, yet?” Kahlan asked.

  Captain Zimmer nodded. “From the looks of it, he’s sending maybe a third, possibly a little more, up the Callisidrin Valley toward Galea. The main force is heading to the northeast, probably to enter and go north up the Kern Valley.”

  They all knew the eventual goal.

  Zedd made a fist. “There’s no joy in being right, but that’s just what Kahlan and I talked about. That was our guess.”

  General Meiffert was still rubbing his chin as he studied the map.

  “It’s an obvious move, but with the size of his force the obvious is not a liability.”

  No one wanted to broach the issue, so Kahlan settled the matter. “Galea is on its own. We’re not sending any troops to help them.”

  Captain Zimmer finally waggled a finger at the map. “We need to put our forces in front of their main force to slow them down. If we stay on their heels instead, we will only be cleaning up the mess they make.”

  “I’d have to agree.” The general shifted his weight to his other foot.

  “We have no choice but to try to slow them. We’ll have to keep giving ground, but at least we can slow them. Otherwise, they are going to move up through the center of the Midlands with the speed and power of a spring flood.”

  Zedd was watching the young wizard off by himself at the window.

  “Warren, what do you think?”

  Warren looked up at the sound of his name, as if he hadn’t been paying attention. Something about him didn’t look well. He took a breath and straightened, his face brightening, making Kahlan think she had been mistaken. Hands clasped behind his back, Warren strode to the table.

  He peered at the map from over Verna’s shoulder. “Forget Galea—it’s a lost cause. We cannot help them. They will suffer the sentence imposed upon them by the Mother Confessor—not because she spoke the words, but because her words were simple truth. Any troops we sent to help would be forfeit.”

  Zedd cast a sidelong glance at his fellow wizard. “What else?”

  Warren finally moved closer to the table, wedging himself between Verna and the general. With authority, he firmly planted his finger on the map, far to the north—almost three-quarters of the way to Aydindril from where they were camped.

  “You have to go there.”

  General Meiffert frowned. “Up there? Why?”

  “Because,” Warren said, “you can’t stop Jagang’s army—his main force. You can only hope to slow them as they move north, up into the Kern Valley. This is where you must make a stand, if you hope to delay them next winter. Once they move through you, they will be upon Aydindril.”

  “Move through us?” General Meiffert asked in an surly manner.

  Warren looked up at him. “Well, do you suppose you are going to be able to stop them? It wouldn’t surprise me if by then they have three and a half to four million men.”

  The general let out an ill-tempered breath. “Then why do you think we should be at that spot—right in their way?”

  “You can’t stop them, but if you harry them sufficiently as they move north, you can keep them from reaching Aydindril this year. At this spot, they will be running out of time before the weather closes in. With a bit of stiff resistance, you can grind them to a halt for the winter, buying Aydindril one more season of freedom.”

  Warren looked up into Kahlan’s eyes. “The following summer, a year from now, Aydindril will fall. Prepare them for it in whatever way you are able, but make no mistake: the city will fall to the Order.”

  Kahlan’s blood ran cold. To hear him say the words aloud staggered her.

  She wanted to slap him.

  To contemplate the Imperial Order taking their attack into the heart of the Midlands was horrifying. To accept, as foreordained, the Imperial Order seizing the heart of the New World was unthinkable. Kahlan’s mental image of Jagang and his bloodthirsty thugs strolling the halls of the Confessors’ Palace sickened her.

  Warren leaned around the general to look at Zedd. “The Wizard’s Keep must be protected—you know that better than I. It would be the end of all hope if their gifted were to gain the Keep and the dangerous things of magic stored there. I think the time has come to keep that above all else in our thinking. Holding the Keep is vital.”

  Zedd smoothed back his unruly white hair. “I could hold the Keep by myself, if I had to.”

  Warren looked away from Zedd’s hazel eyes. “You may have to,” he said in a quiet voice. “When we get to this place”—he tapped the map again—“then you can do no more with the army, Zedd, and you must go to safeguard the Wizard’s Keep and the things of magic kept there.”

  Kahlan could feel the blood heating her face. “You’re talking about this as if it’s all settled—as if it has been decided by fate and there is nothing we can do about it. We can’t win if we hold such a defeatist attitude.”

  Warren smiled, his shy manner suddenly surfacing. “I’m sorry, Mother Confessor. I didn’t mean to give you that impression. I am only offering my analysis of the facts of the situation. We aren’t going to be able to stop them—there’s no use deluding ourselves about that. They grow larger by the day. We must also take into account that there are going to be lands, such as Anderith and Galea, which fear the Order and will join them rather than suffer the brutal fate of those who refuse to surrender.

  “I lived in the Old World as it fell, bit by bit, to the Imperial Order. I’ve studied Jagang’s methods. I know the man’s patience. He methodically conquered the entire Old World when such a feat seemed inconceivable. He spent years building roads just to be able to accomplish his plans. He never wavers from his goal. There are times when you can anger or humiliate him into a rash action, but he quickly comes to his senses.

  “He quickly comes to his senses because he has a cause that is paramount to him.

  “You must understand something important about Jagang. It’s the most important thing I can tell you about the man: he believes with all his heart that what he is doing is right. He revels in the glory of conquest and victory, to be sure, but his deepest pleasure is being the one who has brought what he sees as righteousness to those he views as heathens. He believes that mankind can only advance, ethically, if they are all brought under the moral authority of the Order.”

  “That’s just nonsense,” Kahlan said.

  “You may think so, but he truly believes he is serving the cause of the greater good for mankind. He believes piously in this. It is a sacred moral truth to him and his ilk.”

  “He believes that murder, rape, and enslavement are just?” General Meiffert asked. “He would have to be out of his mind.”

  “He was raised at the feet of priests of the Fellowship of Order.”

  Warren lifted a finger to make sure they all noted his point. “He believes that all those things and more are justified. He believes that only the next world matters, because then we will be in the eternal Light of the Creator. The Order believes that you earn that reward in the next world by sacrificing for your fellow man in this world. All those who refuse to see this—that would be us—must either be brought to follow the Order’s ways, or die.”

  “So,” General Meiffert said, “it’s his sacred duty to crush us. It’s not plunder he seeks, primarily, but his bizarre version of the salvation of mankind.”

  “Exactly.”

  “All right,” Kahlan said with a sigh. “So, what do you think this holy man of justice will do?”

  “He basically has two choices, I believe. If he is to conquer the New World and bring all of mankind under the authority of the Order, he must take two important places, or he has not really succeeded: Aydindril, because it is the seat of power in the Midlands, and the People’s Palace in D’Hara, because it reigns over the D’Haran people. If those two fall, everything else will crumble. He could have gone for either. Emperor Jagang has now made his choice of which falls first.

  “The Imperial Order is going for Aydindril in order to split the Midl
ands. Why else would they go north? What better way to defeat an enemy than to cleave them in two? After they have Aydindril, they will turn their swords to an isolated D’Hara. What better way to demoralize an enemy than to first go for their heart?

  “I am not saying that it is preordained, but merely telling you the way the Order goes about its grisly work. This is the same thing Richard has already figured out. Given that we can’t realistically expect to stop them, I think it only wise to face the reality of what is, don’t you?”

  Kahlan’s gaze sank to the map. “I believe that in the darkest hours we must believe in ourselves. I do not intend to surrender the D’Haran Empire to the Imperial Order. We need to wage the best war we can until we can turn it around.”

  “The Mother Confessor is right,” Zedd insisted with quiet authority. “The last great war I fought, in my youth, seemed just as hopeless for a time. We prevailed, and drove the invaders back to the place from where they had come.”

  None of the D’Haran officers said anything. It was D’Hara that was that invader. “But things are different, now. That was a war pressed by an evil leader.” Zedd met the gaze of General Meiffert, Captain Zimmer, and the other D’Haran officers. “Every side in a war has good people, just as they all have the bad. Richard, as the new Lord Rahl, has given those good people a chance to flourish.

  “We must prevail in this. As difficult as it may now be to believe, there are good people in the Old World, too, who would not wish to be under the boot heel of the Order, or to press a war for the Order’s reasons. Nonetheless, we must stop them.”

  “So,” Kahlan said, gesturing at the map before Warren, “how do you think Jagang will press the war?”

  Warren tapped the map again, to the south of Aydindril. “Knowing Jagang and the way he conquers his opponents, I think he will stick to his grand plan. He has a goal and will doggedly continue to move toward it. There is nothing we have shown him that he has not seen from other opponents for his whole life. With that experience, I’m sure he finds this war unexceptional. I don’t mean to discount our efforts—all war has its surprises, and we’ve given him some nasty ones. I would say, though, that it is going largely as he expected.