Stone of Tears tsot-2

by Terry Goodkind

  The men mumbled in surprise and confusion.

  “The road divides ahead. When they are past the fork, and on their way to Cellion, the wagons with the food and all the ale are to take the other road, and then the smaller routes, to get ahead of them. You will lie in wait with these wagons until their advance guard nears, and then cross their path so they can see you. When their forward column spots you and gives chase, you are to abandon the wagons and escape. Let them have the food and drink.

  “The Imperial Order is nearly out of ale, and tonight they will celebrate their luck. I expect they will get drunk. I want them to be drunk when we attack them.”

  The men cheered with that news.

  “Know this: we’re as a wolf pack, trying to bring down a bull. Though we are not strong enough to do it with one dispatching strike, we will harry him to exhaustion, drag him to the ground, and kill him. This will not be a single battle, but a constant nipping at his hide, taking small chunks of him at a time, wounding, weakening, and bleeding him all the while, until finally we have the advantage and can kill the beast.

  “Tonight, under cover of darkness, we will slip into their camp and make a quick strike. This is to be a disciplined action, not random killing. We will have a list of objectives. Our aim is to weaken the bull. I have already partially blinded him by eliminating the wizard.

  “The sentries and lookouts will be taken first. We will dress as many men as we can in their clothes. Those men will go into their camp and locate our targets.

  “Our first need is to slow their ability to counterattack. I don’t want us run down by cavalry. We need to bring ruin to their horses. There’s no need to waste time killing them; breaking their legs is sufficient. We need to destroy their food. We’re an army small enough to be able to get food by hunting, foraging, and buying from surrounding farms and villages, but one that size requires much. If we destroy their food, they will be weakened.

  “We need to kill their arrow makers and fletchers, bowyers and blacksmiths, all the craftsmen who can make and repair bows, arrows, and other weapons. They will have sacks of goose wings for fletching arrows. They must be stolen or burned. Every arrow not made is one that can’t kill us. Bow staves need to be destroyed. Wreck their bugles, if you find them, and the buglers. This will help take away their voice and coordination.

  “Their lances, pikes, and argons will be stacked upright, together. Five seconds and a few swings with an axe or sword will destroy a great many lances and pikes. Heavy axes or hammers will at least bend the argons and render them useless. Every lance or spear broken is one that can’t kill you. Burn their tents, to expose them to the cold, burn their wagons so they will lose supplies.

  “Of most importance are their officers. I would rather kill one officer tonight than a thousand men. If we can kill their officers, it will make them dull and slow, and it will be easier to take this bull to the ground.

  “If any of you can think of anything else that will weaken them, bring the ideas to me or Captain Ryan, or the other officers. The object tonight is not primarily to kill soldiers; there are too many. Our object is to disable them, make them weak, slow; to make them less sure of themselves.

  “Most of all, our object is to put fear into their minds. These men aren’t used to being afraid. When men are afraid, they make mistakes. Those mistakes allow us to kill them. I intend to terrify them. Later, I will tell you how.

  “You have a few hours to get everything ready, and then we start moving. I want the sentries at double distance. Beyond them, I want lookouts and I want scouts to keep in contact with the Order. I want to know where they are at all times. I want constant reports. I don’t want to be surprised by anything. I want to know of anything that you see or encounter, no matter how innocent it seems. If a rabbit jumps too high, I want to know about it. Just as we intend to trick them, I don’t want them tricking us. Take nothing for granted.

  “May the good spirits be with you. Now get started.”

  The men all began moving, the air coming to life with the sound of feet and talking. One of the two lieutenants stood near, unbuttoning his coat, giving orders to some men around him.

  “Lieutenant Sloan.” He looked up as the men he had instructed went to their tasks. “See to the sentries and lookouts at once. I want any of your men who know how to make white paint or whitewash to assemble the supplies they need. We will need large tubs of some sort. I want rocks heated, to warm the insides of tents.”

  He didn’t question her strange instructions. “Yes, Mother Confessor.”

  “See that the small wagons with the ale and food are prepared, but hold them until I give the order to let them go.”

  He put his fist to his heart without comment and marched off to see to it.

  Kahlan’s legs felt as if they would give out at any second. She was so tired from having had no sleep, and from riding the better part of the night, to say nothing of the work she had done and the heart-pounding fright, that she could hardly focus her eyes anymore. Her shoulder hurt where the lance had been couched when it was shattered. The muscles in her left leg jittered with the effort of keeping her standing.

  She was also mentally exhausted. Anxiety, over not only the enormity of her decision to take it upon herself to call all the Midlands into war, but also over her impassioned plea for these men to lay down their lives on her word, eroded her strength further. Despite the unusual warmth of the day, she shivered inside her fur mantle.

  Captain Ryan stepped over to her. Chandalen, Prindin, and Tossidin were standing by the rear of the wagon, watching.

  Captain Ryan gave her a sly smile. “I like it.”

  He jumped down and held his hand out for her. She ignored the hand and jumped down as he had done, and by luck more than anything, stayed on her feet. She could not accept his offer of help, not now, not with what she was about to do.

  “And now, Captain, I must give you an order you are not going to like.” She looked to his blue eyes. “I want you to send men after Mosle and those who went with him. Send enough to be sure to accomplish the deed.”

  “Deed?”

  “They must be killed. Send a force with instructions that they are to pretend to join with Mosle’s men, so they don’t scatter when your men approach. Send your cavalry behind, but out of sight, in case they’re able to take to the woods. When they are surrounded, kill them. There are seventy-six. Count the bodies to make sure they are all dead. I will be very displeased if even one escapes.”

  His eyes were wide. “But Mother Confessor . . .”

  “I take no pleasure in this, Captain. You have your orders.” She turned to the three Mud People. “Prindin, go with the men he picks. Make sure those who departed are killed to a man.”

  Prindin gave her a grim nod. He understood the unpleasant necessity of what she was doing.

  Captain Ryan tensed in near panic. “Mother Confessor . . . I know those men. They’ve been with us a long time. You said they were free to go! We can’t . . .”

  She laid a hand on his arm. He suddenly recognized the threat that represented. “I am doing what I must to save your lives. You have given your word to follow orders.” She leaned a little closer. “Do not add yourself to those seventy-six.”

  He at last gave a nod and she removed her hand. His eyes told it all. Hate radiated from him.

  “I didn’t know the killing was to start with our own men,” he whispered.

  “It does not. It starts with the enemy.”

  Captain Ryan pointed angrily up the pass. “They’re going in the opposite direction of the Order!”

  “And did you think they would go to the enemy in plain sight of you? They intend to circle around.” She turned and started off toward a tent that had been left up for her.

  Captain Ryan, trailed by Chandalen, Prindin, and Tossidin, followed her, unwilling to concede. “If you were so concerned, why did you let them go! Why didn’t you let the men kill them when they would have!”

  “B
ecause I had to give all those who would renounce us and abandon their fellows the chance to do so.”

  “What makes you think all the ‘traitors’ departed? There could be spies, or assassins, among us.”

  “Yes, there could be. But I have no evidence of that at the moment. If I find there are, I will have to deal with them then.”

  Kahlan came to a stop before the tent. “If you think I may be making a mistake about those men, I assure you, I am not. But even if I were, it is a price that must be paid. If we let them go, and even one of them betrays us, we could all be killed in a trap tonight. If we die, there will be none to stop the Order for a long time. How many thousands would die then, Captain? If those men are innocent, I’ll have made a terrible mistake, and seventy-six innocent men will die. If I’m right, I will be saving the lives of untold thousands of innocent people.

  “You have your orders. Carry them out.”

  Captain Ryan shook with rage. “I hope you don’t expect me to ever forgive you for this.”

  “No, I don’t. I expect only that you follow my orders. I don’t care if you hate me, Captain. I care only that you live to do so.”

  He gritted his teeth in mute frustration.

  Kahlan gripped the tent flap. “Captain, I’m so tired I can hardly stand. I need to get a couple of hours’ sleep. I want a guard posted around this tent while I rest.”

  He glared at her. “And how can you be sure one of them might not be an enemy? They could kill you in your sleep.”

  “That’s a possibility. But if that happens, one of these three men would avenge my murder.”

  Captain Ryan flinched and glanced at the three Mud People. In his anger, he had forgotten they were there.

  Chandalen lifted an eyebrow to him. “I will first put sticks in his eyes, to hold them open, to be sure he sees what I do.”

  Lieutenant Hobson rushed up, holding a bowl out in his hands. “Mother Confessor, I brought you some stew. I thought you would like something to eat. Something hot.”

  Kahlan forced herself to smile at him. “Thank you, Lieutenant, but I’m so tired I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep it down. Could you keep it warm, until after I’ve rested?”

  “Of course, Mother Confessor.”

  Captain Ryan’s glare slid to his grinning lieutenant. “I have a job for you, Hobson.”

  “Two hours,” Kahlan said, “and then wake me. You should all have enough to keep you busy in the meantime.”

  She pulled the flap aside and went into the tent, nearly collapsing onto the cot. She drew a blanket over her legs, and lifted the fur mantle over her head, shutting out the light. In her small, private darkness, she shook.

  She would have given her life, right then, to have Richard hold her for just five minutes.

  Chapter 41

  She was kissing Richard, holding him tightly in her arms, her mind filled with no thought but peace and joy, when she started at the sound of shouting. Richard was gone. Her heavy arms were empty.

  She sat up, pushing the blanket away, frantic for an instant, not knowing where she was, and then she remembered. She felt as if she might vomit.

  She wished she could have a hot bath. She couldn’t remember her last bath. She rubbed her eyes as Captain Ryan stuck his head inside the tent.

  “How long?” Kahlan mumbled. “How long have I slept?” She threw the blanket aside.

  “A couple hours, just about. There is someone out here for you.”

  Directly outside her tent waited a group of men, an ashen-faced Lieutenant Hobson among them. In their midst stood Mosle, bound and gagged and held at each arm by soldiers. His eyes darted about in panic. He tried to shout through the gag, but couldn’t make himself understood.

  Kahlan glowered over at Captain Ryan.

  He stood with one thumb hooked in his belt. “I thought, Mother Confessor, that you would want to execute this man yourself. Since he seems to have personally offended you so.” He held his knife out toward her, handle first.

  Kahlan ignored the knife and turned instead to the men holding Mosle. “Release him, and stand away.”

  She felt as if she were still in a sleep, still in a dream. But she wasn’t. There was no option.

  As they stepped back, she reached out and snatched Mosle by his arm. He froze in fright for an instant, and then tried to back away.

  But he had no time to escape. She was touching him now. He was hers. Her sleepiness vanished in a sucking rush as her power ignited. She gave no thought to what she was about to do; there was no choice. She was committed. She gave herself over to it.

  The sounds of the camp—the jangle of tack, the grating of wooden boxes being skidded across wagon beds, the splintering of other boxes being pried open, the squeak of wheels, the whinnies of horses, the sound of thousands of feet shuffling, men talking, the clop of hooves, the sound of steel being sharpened, the popping of wood in fires, and the sound of her own heart beating—all faded away to silence.

  In the silence of her mind, the power was all. She could feel Mosle’s muscles tighten under her hand. But he had no chance. He was hers.

  In the silence, in the quiet, in the peace of her mind, as she had done countless times before, she released her power, her magic, into the man before her.

  There was a violent jolt to the air as it slammed into him. Thunder without sound. The snow around her and Mosle billowed away in a ring, rising and tumbling, until it dissipated and settled again.

  Mosle, no more who he had been, dropped to his knees in the wet snow before her. His brow wrinkled with panic that, because of the gag, he would not be able to ask her to command him. He sucked air through his nose, trying to breathe with the terror that he might displease her. The camp around her had fallen into stunned silence, with her the heart of all attention. Kahlan pulled the gag from his mouth.

  Tears of relief flooded from his eyes. “Mistress,” he whispered hoarsely. “Please, Mistress, command me. Please tell me what I can do to serve you.”

  In trepidation, hundreds of stunned faces around her watched. Kahlan gazed down at the man on his knees before her. She wore her Confessor’s face. “It would please me, William, if you would tell me the truth of what you planned to do after you left this camp.”

  He beamed with joy, more tears running down his cheeks, and would have clutched at her legs in gratitude had his arms not been bound behind his back.

  “Oh yes, Mistress, please let me tell you.”

  “Tell me then.”

  It all came babbling out in a rush. “I was going to the camp of those other men, the Imperial Order you called them, and I was going to ask to join them. I was going to take all my men with me so they could join too. I was going to tell them of the presence of the Galean recruits, and of your plans, so they would be pleased with us, and would let us join with them. I thought they had a better chance than you, and I didn’t want to die, so I was going to join with them. I thought they would be pleased if I brought them men to add to their ranks. I thought they would be pleased with us if we could help them crush you.”

  He burst suddenly in sobs. “Oh, please, Mistress, I’m so sorry I thought to do you harm. I wanted them to kill you. Oh, please, Mistress, I’m so sorry I intended you harm. Please, Mistress, tell me how I can gain your forgiveness. I will do anything. Please command me and it will be done. Please, Mistress, what do you wish of me?”

  “I wish for you to die,” she whispered in the icy silence. “Right now.”

  William Mosle crumpled forward, against her boots, and thrashed in racking convulsions. After a few long, agonizing seconds, he was still, his last breath rattling from his lungs.

  Kahlan’s gaze slid over a wide-eyed Captain Ryan, to Prindin, standing behind a still ashen Lieutenant Hobson. Chandalen was glaring at him, too. She spoke in his tongue.

  “Prindin, I told you to make sure they were all killed. Why did you not do as I said?”

  He shrugged self-consciously. “They were of a mind to do this. Ca
ptain Ryan told them to kill the others but to bring this one to you. I did not know this when we left, or I would have told you. They had two hundred men on foot, and another one hundred on horses. As I told you, they were of a mind to do this, and I did not think I would be able to prevent it, except by killing him myself, and then I realized they might kill me for doing it, and then I would not be able to be near you, to protect you. Besides that, I knew you were right, and I thought it would do them good to learn a lesson.”

  “Did any escape?”

  “No. I was a little surprised at how well they did the job. They are good men. They did a hard thing, a thing they wept to do, but they did it well. None escaped them.”

  Kahlan let out a long breath. “I understand, Prindin. You were right to do as you did.” She cast a sideways glance at Chandalen. “Chandalen will be satisfied, too.” It was an order.

  Prindin gave her a tight smile of relief. Her glare slid to Captain Ryan.

  “Satisfied?”

  He stood stiff, pale and wide-eyed. “Yes, Mother Confessor.”

  She swept a glance over the gathered men. “Is everyone satisfied, now?”

  There came from them all an uncoordinated, mumbled chorus of “Yes, Mother Confessor.”

  If there had been some before who were not terrified of her, there were none now who were not. The lot of them looked as if, were a twig to snap unexpectedly, they would bolt for the hills like frightened rabbits. This was probably the first time most had seen magic, and it wasn’t wonderful, beautiful magic, but daunting, ugly magic.

  “Mother Confessor?” Captain Ryan whispered. His arm was still held out, frozen, the knife he had offered her still in his hand. “What are you going to do to me for disobeying your orders?”

  She looked to his bloodless face. “Nothing. This is your first day of being men in the war against the Order. Most of you didn’t believe in the importance of what I had commanded. You have not fought in war before, and did not understand the need. I will be satisfied that you have learned something from this, and leave it at that.”