Warheart: Sword of Truth: The Conclusion

by Terry Goodkind

  Out of the corner of her eye, Kahlan caught sight of the red leather of a Mord-Sith coming up behind the other man. Mord-Sith were quick, but the woman’s Agiel wasn’t going to stop this threat. Kahlan hoped that when she found that out she would be quick enough not to be caught and killed like the soldier lying sprawled up against the wall.

  The second man, his focus also on Kahlan, swung an arm behind to brush away the Mord-Sith as if she were a petty nuisance. As Kahlan tried but failed to get past the closest man by feigning a move to her right and then her left, she caught a glimpse of the Mord-Sith ducking as the arm of the other man swept by over her head.

  When the man missed catching her with his arm, the woman in red stood and rammed what Kahlan thought must have been her Agiel into the dead man’s back.

  In that instant, the red glow in his eyes extinguished.

  He briefly stood as still and stiff as a corpse before toppling forward and crashing to the floor. He was suddenly as dead as he had been before occult magic had pulled him from his grave.

  Kahlan saw then that the Mord-Sith wasn’t holding an Agiel as she had thought, but instead had used a knife. This, though, was no ordinary knife. She had seen a knife like this before. It was one of the knives created by the half people to stop the living dead. Even though the gloomy light made it hard to see, she knew who had one of those knives.

  When the Mord-Sith turned toward the light and looked up, their eyes met. Kahlan saw what she already knew. It was Cara.

  Without pause, Cara raced up behind the other roaring dead man menacing Kahlan and rammed that occult weapon into the small of his back. She withdrew the knife and slammed it in two more times in quick succession just for good measure. Kahlan could hear the thuds of Cara’s fist hitting his back as the knife in her fist stabbed all the way in.

  The red glow in his eyes went dark. His whole body stiffened. As his weight shifted over on the broken ankle, he toppled to his side, his dead weight landing with a heavy thud on the lines of the Grace drawn in blood on the wooden floor.

  Kahlan ran to Cara, intending to throw her arms around the woman, but stopped short instead. There was something odd, something in a way distant about her. She looked the same as Kahlan remembered her always looking. She was muscular and tall, endowed with pure, graceful femininity. Her long blond hair was done in the traditional single braid of a Mord-Sith. On the surface she didn’t look any different than she had always looked.

  But there was something strange and otherworldly about Cara’s blue eyes.

  She had obviously fought her way into the citadel. She was covered in blood, now, but the red leather hid it well, and besides, being covered in blood was hardly strange for a Mord-Sith. Kahlan could see horrifically wounded bodies out in the hallway lying sprawled atop one another, all bleeding from gaping wounds of one kind or another. Most had been cut down by the soldiers. Some were missing arms, or legs, or even their heads. Some, though, Cara had stopped.

  Kahlan saw flashes of steel down the dimly lit hallway as the soldiers still fought half people who raced in to join the frenzy. But there were less of them now than she had seen before.

  “Cara,” Kahlan said as she stepped closer. “Dear spirits, I’ve missed you.” She couldn’t hold back her tears. “You don’t know how I’ve missed you, and all that’s happened.”

  Cara stared back with that strange look in her eyes. “I know.”

  Kahlan lifted an arm to point, sobs suddenly choking her words. “Cara … Richard is dead.”

  Without looking where Kahlan pointed, Cara only looked into her eyes. “I know.”

  “I’ve tried everything…”

  “I know,” Cara said, her voice finally turning to gentle compassion.

  “It hurts so much to be without him.”

  “I know, Mother Confessor. I carry that same pain every moment. It makes life unbearable.”

  Kahlan nodded. “I miss Ben, too.”

  Kahlan wanted to hug the woman. She had missed her so. She wanted to tell her the whole story, explain what had happened and what they had done to try to get Richard back. But she could say none of it. Something about the look in Cara’s blue eyes made Kahlan keep her distance. It was Cara, and yet it wasn’t.

  “Cara, are you all right?”

  Cara smiled then, like the old Cara that Kahlan knew so well. It was a smile of knowing, of wisdom, of confidence softened with a glimmer of childlike mischief. It was the smile of a woman who had spent her adult life seeing things that no one should ever have to see, and yet still carried a spark of joy for life that had survived in some dark, distant corner of her tortured mind.

  It was a smile of compassion and determination laced with madness.

  “Yes, Mother Confessor. I am all right, now. Finally, things are about to be right again.”

  Kahlan ignored the strange feeling and took a step forward to throw her arms around the woman. Cara felt cold as ice. The Mord-Sith reached up with her free hand and half returned the hug, then parted.

  “I have to go, now,” Cara said in a voice like a mother speaking tenderly to a child.

  Kahlan frowned. “Go? Go where? You’re home now.”

  Cara shook her head. “Not yet, but I soon will be.”

  With icy fingers, she gently touched Kahlan’s cheek. She turned then toward the bed for the first time as if she had always known that Richard was there. At the side of the bed, standing over him, she looked back over her shoulder.

  “Don’t weep for me, Mother Confessor. Know that I love you both, and that I do this by my own choice alone. Know that I will be at peace. This is the way it is meant to be, the way it must be.”

  Kahlan wanted to ask what she was talking about, but she couldn’t seem to find her voice.

  Looking down, Cara spread her arms above Richard. It reminded Kahlan of nothing so much as a graceful bird spreading its wings. Or a good spirit.

  Kahlan blinked at what she was seeing. The Mord-Sith seemed to have a glow about her, or rather within her. White robes made of light, almost like wings, draped from her arms.

  There seemed to be a spirit form made of light in the same place as Cara. Kahlan knew that it was not Cara she was seeing. The features were similar in their graceful femininity, and yet they were different.

  Cara bent over and placed her Agiel, hanging from the gold chain, around Richard’s neck. She cupped his cheek with a hand for a moment, just looking at him as she and the form made of light smiled lovingly at him.

  And then she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his, as if kissing him, but it was not a kiss.

  Nicci stepped up beside Kahlan and whispered, “She is giving him the breath of life.”

  Kahlan nodded. Richard had told her how a Mord-Sith shared her victim’s breath while he was on the cusp of death. It was a sacred thing to a Mord-Sith to share his pain, share his breath of life as he slipped to the brink of death, as if to view with lust the forbidden sight of what lay beyond in the next world. Sharing, when the time came to kill him, his very death by experiencing his final breath of life, and taking it for her own. Kahlan imagined that to some, it was a grotesquely intimate trophy–part of the madness of the Mord-Sith’s world and life.

  Richard knew because Denna had done that to him when he had been her captive, used the breath of life to keep him alive, keep him on that cusp of death to prolong his agony.

  But Kahlan had also seen Cara do that to a woman who had just died. Kahlan had at first thought it was some outrageous ritual of a Mord-Sith, but Cara had told her that she could sometimes give a person back the breath of life.

  Cara now breathed that breath into Richard, his chest rising as his lungs filled with the breath she gave him, with her own breath of life.

  Cara pulled away a few inches, Richard’s chest slowly sinking as she drew another deep breath. Once again she pressed her mouth over Richard’s, hand covering his nose, filling his lungs with her deep, life-giving breath.

  “What are you t
alking about?” Red whispered from right behind them.

  “She is the living bridge,” Nicci said, tears running down her face as well. “She is the one the spirits said he would need in order to return.”

  Kahlan felt a spike of hope mixed with fear for Cara.

  “That is a spirit with her, helping her,” Red whispered to them.

  Nicci nodded. “It is the spirit of a Mord-Sith I saw protecting him in the underworld.”

  “Denna,” Kahlan whispered, choking on her tears, her chin quivering, hardly able to believe what she was seeing.

  What she was seeing was a good spirit joined with Cara in purpose. It was a sight of hope, of love, and at the same time it was horrifying to know what it meant for Cara.

  “This is her choice,” Nicci said as if reading Kahlan’s mind. “She is doing what she must, and doing it of her own free will.”

  CHAPTER

  20

  Richard opened his eyes as he gasped in a breath.

  The world of life seemed to explode into existence.

  Out of nothingness, bright light, shapes, and colors began to materialize all around him. At first he sensed only gossamer traces of something more; then tangible matter began to solidify into shape and substance, as if it had always been in the same place at the same time as the void where he seemed to have been for so long. It felt confusing to not have realized what had been there all along.

  He began to recognize walls, a ceiling, a floor. There were now limits to the space around him where there had been none. He blinked at candlelight that was too bright, the colors too vivid. The air felt heavy and thick, but he breathed it in greedily, letting it fill his lungs in a heady rush.

  With each breath he drew and then let out, he felt himself exhaling an alien void, breaking the connection to that other world. With every breath he let out, that void dissipated, dissolving away as life came back to take its place.

  This was where he belonged. He could smell the nearly infinite variety of the world of life, he could taste it. Some of the smells were sweet perfume he recognized and he relished, while some was a repulsive stench. It all mixed together into the diversity that was the world of life.

  The air filling his lungs felt luxurious, intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of it. It was wonderful. It felt as if he had needed to get his breath forever. At last it was coming freely. He could feel his pulse moving through him with every deep breath he drew. Even so, to an extent it was still an unfamiliar effort to breathe.

  “Richard!”

  Richard smiled, then, at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. Kahlan was leaning in over him. She was the sweet bouquet he had smelled.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, tears running down her cheeks, her voice a mix of panic and expectant joy, as if she was too afraid to believe he was really with her, and afraid he might unexpectedly leave again.

  “I was with the dead.”

  She nodded, half laughing, half crying as tears continued to overflow from her beautiful green eyes.

  “I know.” She grasped his face in her hands a moment, as if unable to believe it was really him. She looked back then and seized Nicci’s hand. She pulled the sorceress forward. “Nicci went to the underworld to find a way to bring you back.”

  Richard put a hand to his forehead as he saw it all again, but this time in his mind’s eye. “The dark ones. I remember them.” Gooseflesh tingled down his arms. “They were all around me.”

  Nicci nodded. “I know. I saw them.”

  Richard looked up into Kahlan’s beautiful eyes, eyes that also revealed the inner beauty of her soul. “Zedd was there, Kahlan. He was somehow meant to be there to help me, to help free me from the grasp of Sulachan’s dark ones. He let me know that it was all to a purpose, that his time in this world had come to its end, and he had needed to move on to be where he could help me.”

  A woman with strange red hair standing behind Nicci was nodding. “It was all part of the flow of time. It was all meant to be.” Her gray dress seemed to be moving as if in a light breeze, even though the air in the room was still. “Events happened as they must in order for you to return. You were not yet meant to be finished with this world. Prophecy yet lives.”

  Though no one said it, he knew that this was a witch woman. “I must end prophecy if we all are to live.”

  She smiled in a most peculiar manner. “Prophecy helped place events in order so that you might be returned to us. The flow of time revealed that the one closest to you by blood was the one who had to be there to help you, or you would have been lost forever. He was meant to be there, first, waiting for you.”

  Richard didn’t know if that was true or not. As far as he was concerned, prophecy had always been a source of trouble.

  Kahlan began gently turning to someone between them, someone else close to him.

  Still trying to put all the sights around him into order, Richard realized, then, that the reason he was having some difficulty breathing was because there was something heavy lying over his chest and left arm. He saw blond hair and red leather. Icy realization flashed through him. Even without seeing her, he knew who it was.

  Kahlan gently rolled Cara off to his side, laying her back as if she were a sleeping child.

  He knew the instant he saw her, though, that she was not asleep. In horrified dread, he realized what had just happened. He remembered the warnings that one must die for him to return. He reached up and felt the Agiel now hanging around his neck.

  “Cara no,” he said under his breath as panicked fear welled up through him. “Don’t do this for me. Please don’t do this.”

  Even as he said it, he knew that it was too late. She had already done it. It was already finished and beyond redemption. She had made the sacrifice she had always sworn she would make for him. She had always said it would be her life before his.

  Kahlan swallowed as she cupped a tender hand to his face, wiping away a tear with her thumb.

  “She’s with Ben, now, Richard.”

  Richard put his arms around Cara, pulling her cold, limp, and lifeless form up to hold her head to his shoulder as he tipped his head against hers and wept with agony for the woman.

  “I didn’t want this. Dear spirits, I didn’t want this. I didn’t want anyone to do this for me.”

  Nicci laid a hand on his arm. “But she did, Richard. She wanted to be the one to be the bridge back, and she wanted to cross over that bridge to be with Ben.”

  Richard stared up at the sorceress and finally nodded, too choked up to speak. He knew how much she missed Ben. He understood that kind of pain of being left behind. Richard had given up his own life, after all, to go to the underworld to be with Kahlan. Even so, and even though he knew how much she wanted to be the one, Richard didn’t want someone else–didn’t want Cara–to die so that he could come back.

  But he understood it.

  He couldn’t stand the thought of life without Kahlan, of living in a world empty of her soul. Cara had waited her whole life for love like that, and then she had lost it. Now, she was with him and the other good spirits. Richard couldn’t stand losing her, and yet he understood why she had done it.

  “Make her sacrifice worth it, Richard,” Kahlan whispered to him. “Make it mean something.”

  He nodded as he rolled her to the side and carefully laid her back. He could see the soft glow of the spirit that was still within her, a spirit, a sister of the Agiel, who had come to be with her to help her do what had to be done, and then to help guide her to that other world and Ben’s waiting spirit.

  Richard closed her blue eyes and then kissed her cheek.

  “Thank you, Cara. Please take care of her, Denna.”

  As if in answer, the glow of the spirit vanished then back to the world where she belonged, where she, too, was at peace.

  So many good spirits had helped him. He knew that they rarely did so, but this time it was a spirit from their world–Sulachan–who was the cause of the trouble
. If the spirit king had his way he would not only destroy the world of life, he would destroy the peace of that world as well. This was a struggle for the fate of both worlds.

  When Richard sat up and put his hand around the hilt of the sword, the rage responded instantly with eager intensity. The storm of fury sprang to life, joining with his own anger at the thought of all that was at risk because of Sulachan and the man who had helped bring him back into the world of life, Hannis Arc.

  Richard could hear shouts outside in the hall, as well as the unmistakable sounds of weapons being used in anger. Men yelled orders. Others cried out with the fury of their effort. Yet others screamed in pain.

  It was a call Richard knew all too well.

  Others had given their lives that he might live, that he might fight for life. They knew that he was the one born to stop what was happening. They knew that by helping him they were helping in that fight.

  His purpose had never felt so clear to him before. Prophecy or not, this was the battle he was born to fight. Emperor Sulachan had started this war three thousand years before, and had come back to the world of life to finish it. Richard had been born to be the one to oppose him.

  It no longer mattered that prophecy had seemed to meddle with his life or had tried to preordain what he would do. All that mattered now was that he was the one to see this struggle to the end.

  All things had to be in balance. In this conflict, Richard was the balance to Sulachan and his accomplice Hannis Arc. That inexorable pull toward balance in the battle for life didn’t say which side would win, only that in the grand struggle they both were drawn in as balance to each other.

  Though he was only just back from the world of the dead, and he knew that he had been gone for quite a while, it was beginning to feel like he had been gone for only an instant. It was the timeless element of the underworld, he knew, that made him feel that way. He had been to the underworld several times before and he recognized that sensation of life interrupted.