Stone of Tears

by Terry Goodkind

  The two of them sidestepped across the room as the beast whirled to attack again. Zedd tried different elements of magic while he pulled Adie along with him. She ignored the danger as she poured the rest of the sorcerer's sand into her hand. When the skrin made another silent roar, she flung the sand with a foreign incantation. The blast of air from the roar died as she spoke the words. The skrin seemed to inhale, taking in the sparkling white sand. The jaws snapped closed as the head drew back.

  "That be all I have," she said. "I hope it be enough."

  The skrin shook its head, then spat out the sand in a cloud of sparkles. It came for them again, but when he tugged on her sleeve she yanked her arm away. Zedd tried sending logs and chairs flying into the bone beast, trying to distract it while she scurried around behind it. They simply bounced off.

  Stabbing a hand into a pocket, he brought out a handful of sparkling dust of his own. With a quick flick, he sent it into the center of the bone collection standing before him. It had no more effect than had Adie's sorcerer's sand. Nothing he could do seemed to be much of a distraction and it soon turned its attention to Adie. She was snatching an ancient bone from the wall. Feathers dangled from one end, strings of red and yellow beads from the other.

  Zedd grabbed a bone arm, but the beast flung him away.

  As the skrin reeled to her, she shook the bone at the thing, casting spells in her own tongue. The skrin snapped at her. She yanked her hand back just in time to save it, but not the bone talisman. It was splintered in half.

  That was it. He had no idea how to fight the thing, and Adie wasn't having any success. He dove under the head toward her, rolling to his feet.

  "Come on! We have to get out of here!"

  "I can't leave. There be things of great value here."

  "Grab what you can, we're leaving."

  "Get the round bone I showed you."

  Zedd tried to dodge and lunge toward the corner, but the skrin snapped and swept talon-tipped claws at him. He fought back with blasts of every kind of magic he had. Before he realized it, he was losing ground, and had nowhere to retreat.

  "Adie, we have to get out now!"

  "We cannot leave that bone! It be important for the veil!"

  She ran for the corner. Zedd grabbed for her but missed. The skrin almost did, too. It caught her with a claw, ripping a gash down her arm. She cried out as she was flung against the wall, rebounding to sprawl face down on the floor. More bones crashed down around her.

  Zedd caught a handful of the hem of her robe, dragging her back as talons raked the wall, just missing his head. Adie clawed at the floor, trying to get away from him, to get to the round bone in the corner.

  The skrin reared back with a silent roar. The ceiling ripped open as the beast stood to its full height. Huge chunks and splinters of wood rained down. Claws raked wildly, tearing the wood of the walls. Fangs ripped at the roof. Zedd pulled Adie toward the door as she fought him.

  "There be things here I must take! Important things! It has taken me a lifetime to find them!"

  "There's no time, Adie! We can't save them now!"

  She tore away from his grasp, lunging toward the bone talismans on the wall. The skrin went for her. Zedd used magic to yank her back. He grabbed her in both arms and fell backward with her through the doorway just as a claw splintered it.

  They rolled to their feet. Zedd scrambled into a run, pulling her along as she fought him. She tried using magic on him, but he shielded against it. The night air was frigid. Clouds of their breath streamed away with the cold wind as they both ran and fought each other.

  Adie wailed like a mother watching her child being slaughtered. Her arms, one soaked with blood, stretched toward the house. "Please! My things! I must not leave them! You do not understand! They be important magic!"

  The skrin tore at the walls to get out, to get at the two of them.

  "Adie!" He pulled her face close to his. "They are no good to you dead. We will come back for them, after we get away from that thing."

  Her chest heaved. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Please, Zedd. Please, my bones. You don't understand. They be important. They have magic. They may help us to close the veil. If they fall into the wrong hands..."

  Zedd whistled for the horse. He was moving again, pulling her along with him. She protested every step of the way.

  "Zedd, Please! Don't do this! Don't leave them!"

  "Adie! If we die, we can't help anyone!"

  The horse galloped up, skidding to a stop. Her wide eyes rolled in near panic as she saw the thing pulling itself through the walls of the house, splintering and snapping boards and beams. She gave a frightened scream, but held her ground as Zedd gripped her mane and threw himself on her back, hauling Adie up behind.

  "Go! Fly like the wind, girl!"

  Hooves flung chunks of dirt and moss high into the air as the horse leapt out, fangs snapping at her flanks. Zedd crouched forward, Adie clutching him around the waist as they galloped into the darkness. The skrin wasn't ten strides behind, and looked to be as fast as the horse. At least it wasn't faster. Zedd could hear the teeth snapping. The horse squealed when they did, stretching to run with everything she had. He wondered who could run the longest, the horse, or the skrin, and he was afraid he knew the answer.

  24

  Richard's eyes opened. "I think someone is coming."

  Sister Verna was sitting on the other side of the small fire, writing in the little book she kept tucked behind her belt. She looked up from under her eyebrows. "You have touched your Han, yes?"

  "No," he admitted. His legs ached. He must have been sitting without moving for at least an hour. "But I'm telling you, I think someone is coming."

  They did this every night, and it was no different this time. He would sit and picture the sword, on a blank background, and try to reach that place within himself that she said was there, but he could not find, while she watched him, or wrote in her little book, or touched her own Han. He had not visualized the sword on a black square with a white border since the first night. He had no desire to chance revisiting that nightmare.

  "I am beginning to think I am not able to touch my Han. I am trying my best, but it just isn't working."

  She drew the book close to her face in the moonlight and resumed writing. "I have told you before, Richard, it is something that takes time. You have not yet begun to have had enough practice. Do not be discouraged. It comes when it comes."

  "Sister Verna, I'm telling you, someone is coming."

  She kept writing. "And if you are not able to touch your Han, Richard, how would you know this? Hmm?"

  "I don't know." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I've spent a lot of time alone in the woods. Sometimes I can just feel when someone is near. Don't you ever know when someone is near? Haven't you ever felt someone's eyes on you?"

  "Only with the aid of my Han," she said as she wrote.

  He watched as firelight flickered across her dispassionate face. "Sister Verna, you said we were in dangerous lands. I am telling you, someone is coming."

  She leafed back through the book, squinting as she read in the dim light. "And how long have you known this, Richard?"

  "I told you as soon as I had the feeling, just a moment ago."

  She lowered the book to her lap and looked up. "But you say you did not touch your Han? You felt nothing within yourself? You felt no power? Saw no light? Did not sense the Creator?" Her eyes narrowed. "You had better not be lying to me, Richard. You had better never lie to me about touching your Han."

  "Sister Verna, you're not listening! Someone is coming!"

  She closed the book. "Richard, I have know since you began your practice that someone approaches."

  He stared at her in surprise. "Then why are we just sitting here?"

  "We are not just sitting here. You are practicing reaching your Han, and I am tending to my business."

  "Why haven't you said anything? You told me this land is dangerous."

&nb
sp; Sister Verna sighed and began tucking her book back behind her wide belt. "Because they were still some distance off. There was nothing else for us to do but to continue. You need the practice. You must keep trying until you are able to touch your Han." She shook her head with resignation. "But I suppose you are too agitated now to continue. They are still ten or fifteen minutes away; we may as well begin packing our things."

  "Why now? Why didn't we leave as soon as you sensed them?"

  "Because we had been spotted. Once we have been discovered, there is no way to escape these people. This is their land; we would not be able outrun them. It is probably a sentinel who has found us."

  "Then why do you want to pack to leave now?"

  She regarded him as if he were hopelessly thick. "Because we can't spend the night here after we kill them."

  Richard leapt to his feet. "Kill them! You don't even know who is coming, and already you plan to kill them?"

  Sister Verna stood, drawing herself up straight, and peered into his eyes. "Richard, I have done my best to prevent this. Have we seen anyone else before now? No. Even though these people cover this land like a swarm of angry ants, we have seen no one. I have led us between anyone I could sense with my Han, in an effort to avoid contact. I have done my best to avoid trouble. Sometimes, even when you do your best, trouble cannot be avoided. I do not want to kill these people, but they are intent on killing us."

  That certainly explained why they had been traveling such a peculiar route. Although they had been heading steadily southeast for weeks, they had done so in an odd fashion. Without ever explaining, she had directed them first one way, then another, occasionally backtracking, but always, relentlessly, southeast.

  The barren land had become progressively rockier and more desolate. He had not bothered asking about their route because he didn't think she would tell him, and because he didn't care. Wherever they went, he was still a prisoner.

  Richard scratched his new beard as he started kicking dirt over the fire. It was a warm night, as most had been lately. He wondered what had happened to winter. "We don't even know who they are yet. You can't just go killing anyone that shows up."

  "Richard." She clasped her hands together. "Not all the Sisters who try to return are successful. Many are killed trying to cross these lands. In every case, there were three Sisters. I am but one. Not good odds."

  The horses nickered and began moving about, tossing their heads and pawing their hooves. Richard strapped the baldric over his shoulder. He checked that the sword was clear in its scabbard.

  "You were wrong, Sister, not to try to get away as soon as you knew. If you have to fight, it should be because there is no other way. You didn't even try."

  Hands still clasped together, she watched him. Her voice was soft but firm. "These people are intent upon killing us, Richard. Both of us. If we had tried to run, this one would have alerted the others, and brought hundreds, thousands, to bring us down. I have not run so as to embolden this one into trying to take us himself, so we can end the threat."

  "I'm not killing people for you, Sister Verna."

  As they glared at each other, he heard a scream: a woman's scream. He stared out into the night, trying to see into the shadows of the rocky spires, trying to see where the scream came from. He couldn't see anyone, but the screams and cries were coming closer.

  Richard kicked dirt over the last of the flames and sprinted to the horses, calming them with reassuring words and gentle strokes. He didn't care what she said, he wasn't killing people on her word. The woman was crazy not to want to try to escape.

  She probably wanted a fight, just to see what he would do. She was always watching him as if he was a bug in a box. She questioned him every time he practiced trying to touch his Han. Whatever the Han was, he hadn't been able to sense it, much less touch it or call it forth. Just as well, as far as he was concerned.

  Richard was starting toward the saddlebags, to gather the rest of their things, when a woman came running out of the night. Cloak flying behind, and crying in terror, she ran headlong into their camp. She let out a wail and dashed desperately for him.

  "Please!" she cried out. "Please help me! Please don't let them get me!"

  Her loose hair streamed behind as she ran. The naked fear on her face ran a shiver up Richard's spine. She stumbled as she reached him. Richard caught her frail form in his arms. Her dirty face was streaked with sweat and tears.

  "Please, sir," she sobbed, looking up at him with dark eyes, "please don't let them get me. You don't know what those men will do to me."

  Richard's mind filled with the fright of remembering Kahlan being pursued by the quads. He remembered how terrified she had been of those men, and how she had spoken almost the same words: you don't know what those men will do to me.

  "No one is going to get you. You are safe now."

  The woman's arms came out from under her cloak, slipping around him. Her dark eyes stayed on his as he held her weight.

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, but instead gave a little grunt and jerked. Light seemed to flash from within her eyes. She went slack and heavy in his arms.

  Richard looked up into Sister Verna's unwavering gaze as she yanked the silver knife from the woman's back. Richard felt himself letting the dead weight slip to the ground. The woman slumped fluidly and rolled onto her back.

  The night air rang with the sound of steel as Richard drew the sword.

  "What's the matter with you?" he hissed. "You have just murdered this woman."

  Sister Verna returned his glare in kind. "I thought you said you held no foolish prohibitions against killing women."

  The wrath of the sword's magic pounded through him, raging to be set free. "You are mad." He was rushing toward a lethal precipice. The sword's point rose in anger.

  "Before you would think to kill me," Sister Verna said in a measured tone, "you had better make sure you are not making a mistake." Richard didn't answer. He was incapable of speaking through the fury. "Look in her hand, Richard."

  He looked down at the lifeless body. Her hands were covered by her heavy woolen cloak. Using the sword, he flicked the cloak back off her arm to reveal a knife still gripped in her dead fist. The point had a dark stain on it.

  "Did she scratch you with the knife?"

  Richard's chest still heaved with anger. "No. Why?"

  "Her knife is coated with poison. All it would take is a scratch."

  "What makes you think it was meant for me! She was probably hoping to defend herself from the men who are chasing her!"

  "There are no men chasing her. She is a sentry. You are always telling me to stop treating you like a child, Richard. Stop acting like one. I know about these people, how they do things. She meant to kill us."

  He could feel the muscles in his jaw flex as he gritted his teeth. "We could have tried to get away when she first spotted us."

  She nodded. "Yes, and we would have died. I am telling you, Richard, I know these people. The wilds are layered like an onion with different peoples, all of whom will kill us if they find us. Had we let her reach her kind, they would have caught us and killed us.

  "Don't let the anger of your sword close your eyes. She has a poison knife in her hand, she had it to your back, and she fell into your arms to be able to get close enough to use it. You foolishly let her do so." She turned a little and swept an arm behind. "Where are the ones chasing her?" She let the arm drop to her side. "There is no one else. I could sense them with my Han if there were. She was alone. I have just saved your life."

  He drove the Sword of Truth back into its scabbard. "You have done me no great favor, Sister Verna."

  He didn't know what to believe. He knew only that he was sick of magic, and weary of death. "What is that knife you keep up your sleeve? What is the light in their eyes when you kill with it?"

  "It is called a Dacra. I guess it could be compared to the poison blade she was carrying. With the Dacra it is not the wound itself that kills; t
he Dacra extinguishes the spark of life." Her eyes lowered. "It is a painful thing to steal a life. Sometimes, it is the only way. This, tonight, was the only way to save our lives, whether you choose to believe it or not."

  "All I know, Sister Verna, is that you use it without hesitation, and that you didn't even try anything else." He started to turn away. "I'm going to bury her."

  "Richard." She smoothed her skirt. "I hope you understand, and that you don't misinterpret our actions, but when we reach the Palace, we may have to take the Sword of Truth from you. For your own good."

  "Why? How could that be for my own good?"

  She clasped her hands together again. "The prophecy that you have invoked, the one that says 'he is the bringer of death, and he shall so name himself', is a very dangerous Prophecy. It goes on to say that the holder of the sword is able to call the dead forth, call the past into the present."

  "What does that mean?"

  "We don't know."

  "Prophecies," he muttered. "Prophecies are just stupid riddles, Sister. You invest too much concern in them. You admit that you don't understand them, yet try to follow them. Only a fool follows blindly what he doesn't understand. If it were true, I would call the dead forth and give this woman's life back to her."

  "We know a lot more about them that you think. I believe it would be for the best if we took the sword, just for safekeeping, until we understand the Prophecy better."

  "Sister Verna, if someone took the Dacra from you, would you still be a Sister?"

  "Of course. The Dacra is simply a tool to help us in our job. It doesn't make us who we are."

  He smiled a cold smile. "It is the same with the sword. With or without it, I am still the Seeker. I would be no less a danger to you. Taking it away from me will not save you."

  Her fists tightened. "It is not the same."

  "You are not taking the sword," he said flatly. "You could never understand how much I hate this sword, hate its magic, and how much I wish to be rid of it, but it was given to me when I was named Seeker. It was given to me to be mine for as long as I wish to hold it. I am the Seeker, and I, not you, or anyone else, will decide when I am to give it up."