Jagang had been relieved to see the supply train finally arrive. An army as vast as this one required constant supplies of all sorts, but mainly food. Out on the Azrith Plain, there was nowhere for the army to scavenge food; there were no farms, no crops, no herds of livestock. It would take constant resupply from the Old World to keep the army alive and building the emperor’s ramp up into the sky.
After dismounting, the messenger approached and waited patiently. Jagang finally signaled several officers forward along with the man who’d ridden in.
The man bowed. “Excellency, I come with the supplies the good people from our homeland have sent. Many sacrificed to see to it that our valiant troops have what they need to vanquish the enemy.”
“We can use the supplies, no doubt of that. The men are all working hard and I need to keep up their strength.”
“Our train also brings some of the Ja’La dh Jin teams that wish to join the tournaments in the hopes of having the chance to one day play His Excellency’s renowned team.”
“What teams are they?” Jagang asked, absently, as he scanned a manifest the messenger handed him.
“Most are teams of our soldiers from various divisions. One is the team belonging to the commander of our supply train. To supplement his own men, he has gathered men from the New World along our journey north. He thinks that, with such men from the New World on his team, he can provide quite a spectacle for His Excellency’s enjoyment.”
Jagang nodded as he continued to read the list. “It will do these heathens good to learn our ways. Ja’La dh Jin is a good way to bring other peoples into our culture and customs. It diverts simple minds from the barren existence we all endure in this meaningless life.”
The man bowed. “Yes, Excellency.”
Jagang finally finished and looked up. “I’ve been hearing rumors. Is this team with the captives as good as I’ve heard?”
“They seem to be formidable, Excellency. They have defeated teams that no one thought they could beat. At first it was thought to have been simple luck. No one still thinks it is luck. They have a point man who is said to be the best ever seen.”
Jagang grunted his skepticism. “I have the best on my team.”
The man bowed an apology. “Yes, Excellency. Of course you are correct.”
“What word do you bring from our homeland?”
The man hesitated. “Excellency, I am afraid that I must report some unsettling news. As the next supply train that was to follow after ours was assembling down in the Old World, it was set upon and destroyed. All the recruits who were to be sent north with the train to reinforce our army . . . well, I’m afraid, Excellency, that they were all killed. Their heads were left on stakes beside the road. The line of stakes stretched from one town to the next—both towns burned to the ground. A number of cities, along with forests and croplands, are burning. The fires are intense and, when the wind is right, we can smell the smoke even this far north. It is difficult to pin down exactly what is going on, except that the attacks are all reliably reported to be New World soldiers.”
Jagang glanced at Kahlan. She suspected he was looking to see if she would smile, like the last time. She didn’t need to smile. She could maintain a stony face, and rejoice inwardly. She felt like cheering those unknown men far away who were beginning to vex Jagang with the damage they were causing.
Almost as bad as the damage, rumors were sweeping through the camp. The attacks in their homeland were unsettling the men, who had always considered the Old World not just invulnerable to such attack, but invincible as well. As the rumors spread, they grew in weight among the men. Jagang had already executed a number of men for spreading such rumors. Since she had little interaction with the men—most didn’t even see her—she didn’t know if the executions quelled the rumors but, somehow, she doubted it. If the rumors of such things unsettled the soldiers, Kahlan could only imagine the fear beginning to grip those in the Old World. While their army was away seeking conquest, she imagined that the people back there were largely defenseless.
“The reports are, Excellency, that these marauders are destroying everything in their path. They burn crops, kill livestock, destroy mills, break dams, ruin every sort of craft producing goods for our noble effort to spread the word of the Order.
“Particularly hard hit are those who give support to our people by teaching them the ways of the Order—those who instill the need to sacrifice for our effort to crush the heathens to the north.”
Jagang was remaining calm on the outside, but Kahlan, as well as the officers watching him, knew that inside he was boiling with rage.
“Any idea who is going after our teachers, our leaders? Any particular unit of the enemy?”
The man bowed another apology. “Excellency, I regret to report that all of our teachers and the Brothers who have been murdered trying to teach the ways of the Creator and the Order, well . . . every one of their corpses was found to be missing a right ear.”
Jagang’s face went red with rage. Kahlan could see the muscles in his jaw and temples flex as he gritted his teeth.
“Do you think it could be those same men who plagued us on our way up into the Midlands, Excellency?” one of the officers asked.
“Of course it is!” Jagang roared. “I want something done about this,” he said, directing his orders to the officers. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Excellency,” they all said as one as they bowed their heads and kept them bowed down.
“I want a stop put to this nuisance. We need those supply trains to continue coming. We’re close to ending this war in a great victory. I will not allow our effort to fail. Do you understand!”
“Yes, Excellency,” they all said together, again, bowing deeper.
“Then get to it—all of you!”
As the men all departed to see to their orders, Jagang started marching away, out of his compound. Kahlan felt the shock of pain from the collar prompting her to keep up with him. Armed men, as always, fell in around Jagang as his royal escort and guard.
Chapter 57
Richard watched through the bars covering the small window in the side of his iron cage as the wagon bounced through the sprawling encampment.
“Ruben, would you take a look at that,” Johnrock said. Hands gripping the bars, he was grinning like a man on holiday at what he saw.
Richard glanced over at his cagemate. “Quite the sight,” he agreed.
“Think there’s anyone here who can beat us?”
“I expect we’ll find out sooner or later,” Richard said.
“I’ll tell you, Ruben, I’d like to get a crack at cracking some heads on the emperor’s team.” The man gave Richard a sidelong glance. “Think if we beat the emperor’s team they’ll let us go home?”
“Are you serious?”
The man huffed a laugh. “It was a joke, Ruben.”
“A poor one,” Richard said.
“I suppose,” Johnrock said with a sigh. “Still, they say the emperor’s team is the best. I’d not like to feel that whip again.”
“Once was enough for me, too.”
The two of them had shared the iron cage ever since Richard had been captured back in Tamarang. Johnrock had already been a captive, taken before Richard. He was a big man, a miller, from the southern reaches of the Midlands. Just before the supply train had moved through his little village, soldiers on lead patrol had arrived and thought that, because of his size, Johnrock might make a good addition to the team.
Richard didn’t know Johnrock’s real name. He’d said everyone just called him Johnrock because of his size and how hard his muscles were from carrying sacks of grain. He knew Richard as Ruben Rybnik. Even though Johnrock was a fellow captive, Richard didn’t think it would be safe to let anyone know his real name.
Johnrock had told Richard that he’d broken the arms of three of the soldiers trying to capture him before they took him down. Richard said only that they had pointed arrows at him, and so he’d given up
. Johnrock had appeared slightly embarrassed for what he saw as Richard’s lack of mettle.
Despite his rather goofy, lopsided grin, which he wore often and despite his circumstances, Johnrock had a quick wit and an analytical mind. He had come to like Richard because Richard was the only one who didn’t assume he was stupid and didn’t treat him as such. Johnrock was anything but stupid.
He had eventually decided that he’d been wrong about Richard’s lack of bravery and had asked to be his right wingman in the Ja’La games. Wingman was a rather thankless position that exposed him to charges and bruises from the opponents. Johnrock saw the value in such a position because it allowed him to break the heads of men from the Order and he was cheered for doing so. Even though he was a big man, Johnrock was quick—a combination that made him a perfect man for Richard’s right wing. He loved being close to Richard during play so he could see Richard vent his rage on the Ja’La field in a way that the other teams didn’t expect. Together, the two of them had become a formidable pair on the field. It was never spoken, but they both knew that the other valued the chance to extract a little bit of revenge on those who had captured them.
The camp beyond the iron bars seemed to go on endlessly. Richard was sickened to see where they were—out on the Azrith Plain around the People’s Palace. He didn’t want to look anymore, and sat back down, leaning up against the other side of the box, resting a wrist over his knee as the wagon swayed and bucked through the endless horde.
He was relieved that the D’Haran forces were long gone, or they would have by now been annihilated for nothing. Instead, those men would by now have had enough time to make it down to the Old World. They were probably already laying waste to the place.
Richard hoped they stuck to the plan—fast and fierce attacks, keep separated and hit everywhere in the Old World, sparing nothing. He didn’t want anyone in the Old World to feel safe. There needed to be consequences to the actions that flowed from their beliefs.
The men in the camp all watched the wagon train passing among them. It looked to be welcome, probably for the food it brought. Richard hoped they got their fill. Knowing the orders he had given, it was likely to be one of the last supply trains to leave the Old World. Without supplies, out on the Azrith Plain, with winter about to descend upon them, Jagang’s army was going to find itself unexpectedly falling on hard times.
Nearly all the men they passed near to stared into Richard’s cage, trying to get a glimpse of him. He expected that there were already rumors spreading through the camp about him and his Ja’La team. He had learned when they stopped to play teams at army posts along the way that their reputation preceded them. These men were fans of the game and looked forward to the tournaments, especially since there would no doubt be heightened interest because of the arrival of Richard’s team—or Ruben’s team, as it was informally known. The team really belonged to the commander with the snake face. There was little else to entertain these soldiers, other than the women captives. Richard tried not to think about that, because it only made him angry, and there was nothing he could do about it in his cage.
One day, after a particularly violent game that they had won handily, Johnrock admitted to being confused as to why Richard would have allowed himself to so easily be captured. Richard finally told him the truth of what happened. Johnrock at first didn’t believe him. Richard told him to ask snake-face some time. He did and found that Richard was telling the truth. Johnrock greatly valued liberty and thought it was worth fighting for. That was when Johnrock asked to be Richard’s right wingman.
Where Richard had once channeled his rage through the Sword of Truth, he now channeled it through the broc and the play of the Ja’La game. Even his own team, as much as they liked him leading them, to a degree feared him. Except Johnrock. Johnrock didn’t fear Richard. He shared Richard’s way of playing—as if the game were life-or-death.
For some of their opponents made up of Imperial Order troops who thought too much of themselves, it had been. It was not at all unusual for players, especially opponents of Richard’s team, to be seriously hurt, or even die during a match. One of the men on Richard’s team had died during a game. He’d been hit in the head with the heavy broc when he wasn’t looking. It snapped his neck.
Richard remembered walking the streets of Aydindril with Kahlan, watching children play Ja’La. He had given out official balls if they would trade in their heavy brocs for the lighter ones Richard had had made up. He didn’t want them getting hurt just to play a game. Now all those children had fled Aydindril.
“This looks like a bad place for us to be, Ruben,” Johnrock said in a quiet voice as he watched the camp roll past their little window. He sounded uncharacteristically gloomy. “A very bad place for us to be slaves.”
“If you think you’re a slave, then you are a slave,” Richard said.
Johnrock stared back at Richard for a long moment. “Then I’m not a slave, either, Ruben.”
Richard nodded. “Good for you, Johnrock.”
The man went back to watching the endless camp pass before his eyes. He had probably never seen the likes of it in his life. Richard remembered his own wonder when he first left his Hartland woods to discover what was beyond.
“Would you look at that,” Johnrock said in a low voice, staring out through the bars.
Richard didn’t feel like looking. “What is it?”
“A lot of men—soldiers—but not like the rest of the soldiers. These all look the same. Better weapons, better organized. Bigger. They look fierce. Everyone is making way for them.”
Johnrock looked back over his shoulder at Richard. “I bet it’s the emperor come to watch us roll by—come to see the challengers to his team come to the tournaments. From the descriptions I’ve heard, I bet that fellow being guarded by all those big guards in chain mail is Jagang himself.”
Richard went back to the small opening to have a look. He gripped the bars as he put his face close to see better as they passed close to the guards and their charge.
“That looks like it’s probably Emperor Jagang, all right,” Richard told Johnrock.
The emperor was looking the other way, watching some of the other Ja’La teams made up of Imperial Order soldiers. They weren’t locked in iron boxes in wagons, of course. Jagang was watching them marching proudly in ranks, carrying banners of their team.
And then he saw her.
“Kahlan!”
She turned toward his voice, not knowing where it was coming from; Richard was gripping the bars hard enough to nearly bend them. Even though she wasn’t far, he realized that she probably couldn’t hear him over all the noise. Men all around were cheering for the parade of marching teams.
Her long hair was tumbled down over her cloak. Richard thought his heart would explode it hammered so hard in his chest.
“Kahlan!”
She turned more toward him.
Their eyes met. He was staring right into her green eyes.
When Jagang started to turn around, she immediately turned away, looking off where he was watching. He turned back with her.
And then she was gone, hidden behind men and wagons and horses and tents, disappearing into the distance.
Richard fell back against the wall, gasping.
Johnrock sat down beside him. “Ruben—what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a phantom walking among all those men.”
Richard could only stare, his eyes wide, as he panted.
“It was my wife.”
Johnrock let out a hardy laugh. “You mean you saw the woman you want when we win? The commander says that if we beat the emperor’s team, we’d get to pick one. You see the one you want?”
“It was her . . .”
“Ruben, you look like a man who just fell in love.”
Richard realized that his smile felt like it might break his face.
“It was her. She’s alive. Johnrock—I wish you could see her. She’s alive. She looks exactly the same. Dear spirit
s, it was Kahlan. It was her.”
“I think you’d best slow down your breathing, Ruben, or you’re going to pass out before we have a chance to break some heads.”
“We’re going to play the emperor’s team, Johnrock.”
“We got to win a lot of games, first, to have that chance.”
Richard hardly heard the man. He laughed with glee, unable to stop himself. “It was her. She’s alive.” Richard threw his arms around Johnrock, hugging him tightly. “She’s alive!”
“If you say so, Ruben.”
Kahlan carefully controlled her breathing, trying to get her galloping heart to slow down. She couldn’t understand why she was so shaken. She didn’t know the man in the cage. She had only seen his face briefly as the wagon rolled past, but for some reason it shook her down to her very soul.
The second time the man yelled her name, Jagang acted like he thought he’d heard something. Kahlan had turned back around so that he wouldn’t suspect anything. She didn’t know why that had seemed so desperately important.
That wasn’t true. She did know why. The man was in a cage. If he knew her, Jagang might have hurt him, even killed him.
There was more to it, though. That man knew her. He had to be connected to her past. The past she wanted to forget.
But when she had looked into his gray eyes, everything had changed in a heartbeat. Her numb acceptance had shattered. She no longer wanted her past to be buried. She suddenly wanted to know everything.
The look in that man’s eyes was so profoundly powerful—so filled with something important, something vital—that it drove home to her how important her life was.
Seeing the look in his gray eyes, Kahlan realized that she had to know who she was. Whatever the consequences, whatever the cost, she had to know the truth. She had to have her life back. The truth was the only way.
Jagang’s threats of what he would do to her might be a very real consequence, but she suddenly knew that the real danger was that he was intimidating her into abdicating her life, her will, her existence . . . into giving herself over to his control. By his threats of what he would do to her once she again knew who she was, he was dictating her life, enslaving her. If she went along with his will, then it was only because she surrendered hers.
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