“Master, you are dying.”
Kahlan stepped forward, grasping his arm. “Can you help him in any way? Is there anything you could do, since you are partly in that world of death, to help remove the sickness from him and take it back to the world of the dead with you to where it belongs?”
The sliph turned a sad look toward Kahlan. “No, I am sorry, but I can only travel in this world.”
“Can you at least tell from touching him how much time he has?”
“No, I am sorry. I can only tell that death already has him and his life force is leaving him.”
“I know that much,” Richard said. “So, since in a way I’m already dead the sword can’t really kill me, right?”
The sliph considered him for a time before speaking. “This is a bad business, Master. It is as you say–you could bring it, and you would not die because death already has you. The object is linked to you, focused on the death in you, so it would not harm the others as it ordinarily would.”
“Good,” Richard said, sighing with relief. “Then it would please me to take it with me.”
An arm rose from the churning quicksilver pool to hold up a hand forestalling him. “Master, it is not that simple.”
“Yes it is. I did it before.”
“Perhaps because this other did not care what happened to you.” The sliph drifted a little closer. “Did this other not tell you what would happen when you traveled with this object?”
“Well, yes,” Richard admitted. “She said it would take some of my remaining life.”
“And it did,” the sliph confirmed. “It took that which you have very little to give. The life is draining away from you as death replaces it. That object is created to bring death. When you traveled, having that object of magic with you took much of your remaining life. It took time from you, giving you over to death much sooner.”
Richard waved a hand, wanting to get on with it and get to the palace. “I know. So I can take it. That would please me.”
“It would not please me to do such a thing with you,” the sliph said in a scolding tone. “You may have done it once, but now you do not have much life left to give. Your life is draining away as it is. Traveling with that object would drain away even more of what little you have left. By the time you reach the People’s Palace, you would have almost no life left. Where life had been it would be replaced with death instead.
“Taking that object would not kill you, but it would cost most of your remaining time in the world of life.”
“That settles it,” Kahlan insisted. “You can’t take it, Richard. You have to leave it here.”
“We only have to get to the palace,” he said.
Kahlan leaned closer. He could see the anger in her green eyes, a deep anger she rarely directed at him. “And then you must stop Sulachan. You have to be alive to do that. How is having only a little time left going to help us all?”
“Sulachan?” the sliph asked in alarm. “You are fighting Emperor Sulachan?”
“Yes,” Richard said. “Do you know him?”
The glossy head floated back to the far side of the well. “I know him from the time when I was created. He is evil. He died and travels the world where my soul rests. He is evil. He belongs to the dead, now. How can he be here, in this world?”
“I’m afraid that he has crossed back over,” Richard said, not thinking it would be useful to tell her how. “He is on his way to capture the People’s Palace. If he does, he will tear the veil and destroy all of us–both those living and those souls in that world. I have to get to the palace to stop him. I need to send him back to the world of the dead where he belongs.”
“Come, we will travel,” she said with a sense of urgency as she floated closer. “You will be pleased.”
“I need to bring my sword.”
“No, you don’t need to bring your sword,” Kahlan said through gritted teeth. “It will do you no good if you are dead, or if you don’t have enough life left in you to fight. We haven’t come this far, gone through this much, to have you throw away your life–all of our lives–just to hold on to your sword. You have to leave it here. The sword isn’t what’s important right now.”
“It will be if Sulachan sends the dead against us. The sword can stop them. How am I supposed to fight his army of the dead without my sword?”
Kahlan leaned close, fire in her green eyes. “If you send Sulachan back to the underworld, then there will be no dead to worry about, now will there? We need to get going. You need to take the sword off and leave it here.”
“You should listen to her, Master. What the Mother Confessor is telling you is wise advice. She is one who pleases you, too. You should do as she says.”
“Thank you,” Kahlan told the sliph, but not in the kindest of tones.
Richard drew a deep breath, debating what to do.
“I suppose you’re both right.”
He reluctantly pulled the baldric off over his head. He set the point of the scabbard on the floor and leaned the hilt of the sword up against the stone wall of the well.
“No one will bother it, Richard,” Chase offered. “I will see to it. No one will come in here. You can rest easy, knowing the sword is safe for now.”
Rachel offered him a confident smile. “Once you fix everything, you can come back and get it. We’d really like to see you again and spend more time with all of you.”
Richard wished he shared her confidence. Even though he didn’t, he smiled to her as if he did.
He climbed up on the wall, then wasted no time in helping to pull the four women up with him.
Before he stepped off into the rolling quicksilver, Verna lifted a hand, catching his attention.
“Richard … if, if things don’t work out, the Grace carries us all into the eternal world of peace. We know you will do your best, but if things don’t work out, well, we will all be together again in that world.”
Richard slowly shook his head. “No, if things don’t work out, we won’t.”
She touched her fingers to her chin. “What do you mean?”
“Without victory, there is no survival,” Richard said. “Of anything.”
He looked back over his shoulder. “Sliph, we need to travel. Please take us to the People’s Palace.”
“Come into me, Master. You will be pleased.”
All of them holding hands, he looked to Nicci and Vale on his left, then Kahlan and Cassia on his right. “Like the last time, let your breath go and breathe her in. Try to keep hold of one another so we can stay together.”
Both Mord-Sith, even though they looked apprehensive, nodded.
With that, and the urgency of the situation displacing any second thoughts, he stepped off the edge with the rest of them into the silvery pool.
CHAPTER
50
Gliding through the sliph was an otherworldly sensation, unlike anything Richard had ever been able to relate it to. Each time it felt familiar, and yet completely unexpected. There was a sense of still peacefulness, of a velvety eternity around him, combined with a dim awareness of savage speed.
He tightly held Kahlan’s hand in his right, Nicci’s in his left. He hoped that the two Mord-Sith were holding on to each of them as well.
There was nothing to see, as such. With his eyes closed he saw colors flash by, but when he opened them there was only darkness. When he closed his eyes again, those colors, spinning and swirling as if carried on a fitful wind, filled his mind. The hues and tones spread through empty space like vivid dyes through crystal-clear water.
There was no way to judge time in the sliph, any more than there had been a way to judge the passage of time in the underworld. While in the underworld Richard couldn’t tell if he had been dead for mere moments, or a thousand years. It was all the same. In the past, whenever he had asked the sliph how long they had been traveling, she always said that she was long enough, as if that was somehow answer enough.
He used that stretch of time suspended
to consider what he needed to do. He analyzed it from every angle. As far as he could tell, the pieces he did have all fit. Try as he might to come up with another way, and as much as he might wish there were one, there wasn’t.
He was the bringer of death, and only he could do such a thing. He understood why every different source, from prophecy to the Cerulean scrolls, said as much.
Breathing the quicksilver fluid of the sliph was at once a giddy experience and a terrifying one. It tended to be giddy as long as he didn’t think about what he was actually doing. When he thought about how he was breathing in the silvery fluid instead of air, it switched to terrifying.
Light and shadow in blocky shapes suddenly flooded in around him.
Breathe.
It was the sliph telling him to let go of the fluid he was holding in his lungs and to breathe air instead. In the past he had never wanted to let go of the warm, silken, quicksilver sliph and take that first painful breath of cold air, but in this case he had urgent matters that he was focused on and the sensation of the sliph was a distant secondary thought.
He tilted his head back as he popped up above the surface of the rolling silver waters inside the well, and expelled the fluid of the sliph. With forceful, deliberate effort he drew in a deep breath of air. It hurt, as he expected, but that pain was only a distant consideration.
He looked around as he panted, catching his breath, once again getting accustomed to breathing air, and saw that the others were doing the same. He slipped one arm around Kahlan’s waist and grabbed the top of the wall with his other hand. When she threw her arms over the top, he helped lift her up and out of the well. Once she was out, a hand reached down and seized his arm.
It was Nathan’s.
Another hand took his other arm. It was Rikka’s. Through his still-blurred vision he could see that she was wearing her red leather–always a worrisome sign with Mord-Sith. He was relieved to see both Nathan and Rikka. That told him immediately that Hannis Arc and Emperor Sulachan had not yet captured the People’s Palace.
Together, the old wizard and the Mord-Sith helped lift him up and over the edge. The sickness inside him was sapping his strength. Besides Kahlan, Nicci and the two Mord-Sith were already out of the well. Nicci held her stomach, bending forward as she panted. Cassia rested with a hand on the stone wall of the well. As she caught her breath, Vale checked her single blond braid, marveling that it was not wet and dripping silver fluid.
Richard turned back to the well. “Thank you, Sliph. For now it would please me if you would stay here in case I need to travel again.”
The silver face smiled. “You were pleased, then, Master?”
Richard nodded, still catching his breath. “Yes. Always.”
Content with the answer, she said she would remain there. Her face melted back down into the choppy little waves of the quicksilver liquid and the pool gradually stilled until it was a quiet, mirrored surface of silver.
“Why would we need her again?” Kahlan asked, suspiciously.
“Who knows,” Richard told her, leaving it at that and hoping she didn’t ask anything else.
Fortunately, she instead turned to the prophet. “Nathan, what are you doing down here?”
“I came to greet you, of course,” he said, lifting an arm with a grand gesture a king might give an adoring crowd.
Nathan’s full head of straight white hair hung to his broad shoulders. His hawklike Rahl glare hooded his penetrating dark azure eyes. He was clean-shaven and ruggedly handsome, despite being nearly a thousand years old after having lived for most of his long life in the spell around the Palace of the Prophets that slowed time. Rather than the traditional robes of a wizard, he was wearing high boots, dark trousers, and a ruffled white shirt under an open dark green vest. He was also wearing a sword sheathed in an elegant scabbard at his hip.
A sword was about the last thing a wizard of Nathan’s ability needed, but he liked carrying one anyway. Most of his life he had dressed in the traditional simple robes of a wizard, as was required of him at the Palace of the Prophets. Now free of that place, he liked to dress in his image of an adventurer from many of the books he’d read. Richard had often wondered if because he had never had a normal childhood, Nathan was living it out now that he was free to do so.
Nathan, looking serious, gestured to Richard’s hip. “Where is your sword?”
Richard flicked a hand back at the well. “I couldn’t bring it through the sliph.”
“Ah” was all Nathan said.
The tall, blond Mord-Sith shared a nod with Cassia and Vale before turning her attention back to Richard.
“Lord Rahl, if I may ask, where is Cara? Why isn’t she protecting you? She should be with you.”
Richard’s breath caught at the name. Before he could answer, Cassia lifted Cara’s Agiel, worn around her neck, and answered in his place.
“She is, in a way. Cara died as all Mord-Sith want to die–giving her life for Lord Rahl. I carry her Agiel so that she may be with him in spirit, and so that I can always be reminded of her strength.”
Richard saw only a slight pause in Rikka’s breathing.
“And where have you two been all this time?” she asked, looking between Cassia and Vale. She sounded like a mother unhappy with children who had not shown up for dinner.
Richard spoke up for Cassia and Vale. “They and the others with them were captured and forced to serve the man who is coming here to kill us all. The rest of those women, except Vika, are dead. Some of them died defending us.”
The harsh edges of Rikka’s expression eased as she looked back at the two Mord-Sith. “Glad to have you both back to help protect Lord Rahl and the Mother Confessor.”
Cassia revealed the slightest of smiles. “From my experience, they require a lot of defending. Lord Rahl, especially, wouldn’t last long without at least one of us watching over him.”
Richard turned his attention back to Nathan. “How did you know we were coming? How is it that you were down here waiting for us?”
Nathan shrugged his broad shoulders as if it should be stone-cold obvious. “I’m a prophet. Prophecy came to me, saying that you would arrive down here, so we’ve been down here waiting.”
Richard didn’t like the sound of that. He cocked his head. “A prophecy.”
“Yes,” Nathan said. “Oddly enough, I have been having a flood of prophecy lately. Prophecy of every sort. It’s quite exciting actually. I’ve been visited by more prophecies in recent weeks than I’ve had my entire life. It’s quite extraordinary, if the truth be told.”
“It’s trouble,” Nicci said, as if reading Richard’s thoughts.
“How so?” the prophet asked, not liking being contradicted. “How is knowledge trouble? It simply is what it is.”
Nicci waved away the question and asked one of her own instead. “There is an army on its way. Have you seen any sign of it, yet?”
Nathan’s demeanor changed. He looked from Nicci to Richard.
“I think you had better come with me. There is something you need to see.” Without waiting or explaining, Nathan turned and headed for the door.
Outside the room with the sliph’s well, the broad service corridor was filled with men of the First File. They were all heavily armed and looked in a grim mood. Colonel Zimmer, the big D’Haran commander and the highest-ranking man at the palace, rushed forward when he saw everyone emerge from the sliph’s room. He scanned all the faces before leaning to the side, checking back in the room to see if anyone else would be coming out.
The colonel tapped a fist to his heart. “Lord Rahl, welcome back to the palace. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see that you and the Mother Confessor are safe. We have all been terribly worried.” It was clear by the look on his face that he meant it. The man cleared his throat. “If I might ask, Lord Rahl, why didn’t you ride back with General Meiffert and the men who went to see you safely home? We expected to see you safely returned to the palace in their care.”
Richard was caught off-guard. It seemed like all he ever did was tell people about all those who had died.
“I’m afraid that General Meiffert, Commander Fister, and all the men they brought with them lost their lives fighting to protect us. We would not be alive if not for the sacrifice of all of those brave men.”
The colonel’s face reflected the shock of the news. “Dear spirits … all of them?”
Richard confirmed it with a solemn nod. “There isn’t much time and we have urgent problems that need to be addressed. I’m afraid that I am going to have to ask you to step up and take the place of General Meiffert. I am appointing you general of the First File.”
General Zimmer clapped a fist to his chest. “I take on the duty, Lord Rahl, but with a heavy heart.”
Richard joggled the man’s shoulder. “I know. You’re the right man for the job, and I know you will make those who came before you proud, those under your care safe, and those under your sword terrified.”
“Yes, yes,” Nathan said. “Appointment made. I already told the man that he would soon be promoted to general. As I told you, I have been having a number of prophecies of late. Now, we need to go have a look at the trouble we have.”
Richard had wondered why the man had shown so little reaction. General Zimmer glanced up at Richard.
“It’s true, he did tell me that not long ago. I thought he meant many years from now. I didn’t expect it to be so soon.”
Nathan waved a hand irritably. “Prophecy does not name the day, I told you that. Prophecy only–”
“You said you needed to show us something,” Richard said.
Nathan paused to scrutinize him for a moment. “Yes, this way.” He flicked a hand in the direction of the hallway with all the men.
Richard saw that the men at the head of all the soldiers had bows nocked with red-fletched arrows. They wore special black gloves for handling the deadly arrows. He turned to Nicci.
Warheart: Sword of Truth: The Conclusion Page 32