The Omen Machine

by Terry Goodkind

  Kahlan clambered back onto the trail and raced ahead, trying to jump from root to root in order to stay out of the water and morass of mud. She didn’t trust stepping in the water because she feared that she would sink in and get her foot caught in a tangle of roots hidden below. She could even break an ankle. Both thoughts terrified her.

  As the trail occasionally submerged into the ever-expanding swamp, Kahlan saw places in the path where branches and vines had been placed on the ground to span impassable areas. They provided a welcome way ahead across the patches of water.

  The farther she went, the more substantial and frequent the knitted-branch path became. It was much easier to run with the woven mat underfoot. As she raced ahead into the thick swamp, through vines and moss hanging in sheets along the way, the walkway became even more substantial, eventually rising up above the surface of the stagnant water.

  A quick look behind revealed that the dogs were having trouble. Their paws slipped down through gaps in the weaving of the walkway, sometimes becoming caught. The farther in they went, the more difficulty they had negotiating the entwined branches, twigs, and vines. Kahlan was soon so far ahead that she lost sight of them in the swirling fog.

  The walkway grew strong and solid. In places there were railings made of thick branches. Not long after that, the railings themselves became more sturdy.

  Kahlan was giddy with relief. She was reaching an inhabited place of some kind. With a walkway this well built, this painstakingly constructed, she was sure it would lead her to salvation.

  CHAPTER 79

  Kahlan was confounded at the construction of the enclosed, candlelit tunnel. Soggy parts of the pathway that at first had been gapped with bits of branches and vines knitted together turned into a continuous mat of woven material, which then became a causeway that rose above the surface of the water into an elevated structure that eventually circled all the way around the walkway and closed in overhead. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all constructed the same way, made entirely of woven branches, twigs, vines, and grasses. Kahlan had never seen anything like the remarkably well built and solid structure.

  She didn’t know who had placed all the candles to welcome visitors, but she was thankful for them. She would at last be safe from the dogs that had pursued her for so long. She would at last be able to get help and return to the palace and to Richard.

  Kahlan remembered the prophecy all too well. “Dark things. Dark things stalking you, running you down. You won’t be able to escape them…. your body being ripped open as you scream, all alone, no one to help you.”

  Now that she had found a place where it seemed clear that there would be people, she at last dared to think that she had beaten the prophecy. Soon, she would be somewhere safe and she could at last rest. At the thought of being safe, she could hardly keep her eyes open any longer.

  As she went deeper into the structure, she shed the panic that had kept her going at maximum effort for so long. Now, as the panic faded, she could feel her strength ebbing as well.

  She hadn’t eaten much, and she hadn’t slept much for days on end. Now, along with the fever, it was all catching up with her. She was having trouble walking, but she knew that she had to keep going. She wasn’t safe, yet, until she could get help.

  It became an effort to keep her eyes open, to put one foot in front of the other. Her feet felt so heavy she could hardly lift them. Before long, it was all she could do to shuffle ahead.

  Kahlan passed through rooms with hundreds of strips of cloth hanging from the ceiling, each holding an object of some sort, everything from coins to the remains of small animals. She was mystified by the purpose of the place and had to hold her breath against the stench as she hurried past.

  Beyond, she went through a network of passageways and rooms, her way ahead lit by candles.

  Kahlan paused. She thought she had heard a whisper calling to her.

  “Mother Confessor…”

  That time she was sure she’d heard it. She looked around the room and peered down the dark corridors to the side, but she didn’t see anyone.

  When she heard it a third time, she was listening more carefully and was able to tell where it had come from. It seemed to have come from the wall to the side. Moving toward the sound she saw then that there was a small person inside the structure of the wall itself. He was naked.

  Kahlan realized, then, that she recognized him. It was Henrik, the boy from down in the market.

  “Mother Confessor…”

  Her eyes wide, Kahlan stared at the boy. “Henrik, what are you doing in there?”

  “They put me in here. Please, help me?”

  Kahlan pulled her knife and started cutting away at the branches and vines all woven together over him, keeping him imprisoned. As she started pulling away the vines, thorns pricked her fingers. She drew back, putting the edge of a finger to her mouth, sucking at the painful puncture. She could see the trickles of blood where the thorns had pierced Henrik’s flesh as well.

  Kahlan immediately went back to cutting away the webbing holding the boy in. Tears ran down his cheeks.

  “Thank you, thank you,” he mumbled over and over as he wept. “I’m so sorry for what I did, Mother Confessor.”

  “What did you do?” she asked to keep his mind off the pain of the thorns as she worked at cutting away branches and vines.

  “I scratched you. I didn’t mean to, didn’t want to. I couldn’t stop myself. I—”

  “It’s all right,” Kahlan said as she carefully cut away the last thorny branch holding him in. She leaned in, concentrating on finding a safe place to hold it and get it off him without doing any more damage. “It’s all right. Hush.” He had puncture wounds from the thorns all over his chest, arms, and legs, and while certainly painful, they didn’t look life-threatening.

  “Run,” he said in a weak voice.

  Kahlan frowned up at him. “Who did this to you? What’s going on?”

  “Run,” he said again. “Get away before they get you, too.”

  She lifted his arm, put it around her shoulders, and lifted him out. He winced as the thorns drew out of the skin of his back. Some were barbed and resisted. When she finally had him out, Kahlan set him down and grabbed a spare shirt from her backpack.

  “You have to run,” he said as she draped the shirt around his shoulders.

  “I can’t run,” Kahlan told him. “A pack of wild dogs chased me in here. If I run, they’ll get me.”

  His jaw dropped. “The dogs chased you here?” When she nodded, he said, “Me too. But it’s worse here. You have to run. Get away.”

  Before Kahlan could ask what was going on, Henrik turned and raced away back the way Kahlan had come in.

  “Run!” he screamed as he ran.

  Kahlan stood staring, watching him vanish back up the tunnels. She couldn’t run. The dogs were back that way. Besides, she had no more energy. She didn’t even know if she would be able to stand much longer.

  Just then, a woman in a cowled cape reached out and put a hand under Kahlan’s arm. She hadn’t seen the woman come up from behind.

  “This way,” the woman said in a low, thin, stretched tone.

  “Who are you?” Kahlan asked. It was almost too much effort.

  Another figure appeared on the other side and slipped a hand under Kahlan’s other arm. She was also wearing a cowled cape, like the first woman. Together, they took some of her weight as they started walking her back toward a darker room.

  They both had an odd bluish, spiritlike glow about them. Kahlan had the passing thought that maybe she was dead, and she was being welcomed into the spirit world. That thought quickly faded. Strange as the place was, it was was no spirit world.

  Kahlan wasn’t sure what was going on, but after Henrik’s frantic warning, she wanted to run, but she was at the end of her strength.

  “We’ve been expecting you,” the stooped figure on the right said as her grip tightened on Kahlan’s arm.

  The t
wo glowing figures dragged Kahlan into a larger room crowded with bottles, jars, vessels, and small boxes of every kind. The jars of colored glass were stuck in the walls anywhere a place could be found. Yet others, as well as pottery jars and jugs, were crowded together all over the floor. Acrid smoke rose in wisps from a shallow bowl in the center of the room.

  As Kahlan was hauled toward the center of the room, she pulled her gaze away from staring at the strange collection of containers and found herself face-to-face with a small woman just coming to her feet.

  The woman wasn’t very big. In the dim light it was difficult to see much more than her boyish figure and shoulder-length hair.

  And then the woman leaned in and gave Kahlan a broad grin with lips sewn nearly shut.

  Kahlan stiffened at the evil in that grin and in her dark eyes.

  The woman with the sewn-shut mouth made low, drawn-out, screeching, clicking sounds toward another one of the glowing figures that seemed to have appeared out of the walls. Yet more of them gathered close around. Including the two holding Kahlan up, there were six of them.

  The cowled figure the woman had spoken to in the strange language bowed her head.

  “I will leave at once, Mistress, and let him know that we have her, and that she will soon be among the walking dead.”

  CHAPTER 80

  Kahlan ran the words through her mind again, not sure she had heard them right.

  She will soon be among the walking dead.

  With that, the figure vanished like smoke through the walls. As Kahlan watched her go, she saw for the first time other people back in the walls, woven in the way Henrik had been. Some were near the surface of the wall while others were so far back in she couldn’t see much of them. None had clothes. A number of them were clearly dead.

  The small woman with the leather thongs sewing her mouth closed turned and tossed a handful of dusty material in the shallow bowl where small sticks were smoldering. Sparkling light spiraled up. Other figures, grotesque figures only partially visible, crowded into the room.

  It felt like being among an assembly of ghosts, except they didn’t look like ghosts of people. They were gangly, human-like, skeletal creatures. Their long arms and legs had big, knobby joints. Their flesh, tight on their slender limbs, as if they had no muscle whatsoever, glistened with mottled, slimy rot. Their demonic heads bore only a passing resemblance to humans’. They growled at the sight of her, their thin lips drawing back to reveal large mouths crowded with pointed, needle-sharp teeth.

  The woman with the sewn-shut lips reached out with a filthy, blackened hand and grasped Kahlan’s wrist.

  Paralyzing pain instantly crackled through her. But it was more than simply pain. Besides the jolt of pain, the touch carried the sensation of utter, disheartened hopelessness.

  It was like being touched by death.

  As all the glowing creatures in cowled robes closed in around her, Kahlan finally got a good look at their frightening faces. It was like looking at rotting corpses. Their gnarled hands clawed at her clothes, and Kahlan knew that she had to do something, and fast. She couldn’t allow them to do what ever it was they intended.

  The woman with the sewn-shut mouth was touching her.

  That was all Kahlan needed. More than she needed.

  The world seemed to slow almost to a stop. Time belonged to Kahlan. Exhaustion, fear, pain, sickness, misery, hopelessness were forgotten.

  Mercy did not exist.

  The moment was hers.

  In that timeless place within, that place of power, that core of her being, where her inborn Confessor power resided, Kahlan released the constraints on her ability.

  Thunder without sound jolted the air.

  The power of the concussion shook the whole structure.

  All around the people in the walls screamed as they shuddered violently, their arms and legs shaking as much as they could in the confinement of the thorny walls. The air was filled with their howls.

  When it finally died down, the woman with the sewn-shut lips merely smiled.

  Kahlan’s power hadn’t worked on her.

  Kahlan’s power worked on everyone. Everyone who was human, anyway. It didn’t work on certain creatures of magic, on beings that had elements of magic, or were different.

  Nicci’s words that they had no defense against the Hedge Maid rang through Kahlan’s thoughts. This could only be the Hedge Maid.

  Knobby fingers started clawing at her clothes again.

  Kahlan had nothing left with which to resist, to fight. She was sick and weak, and on top of that she had just used the last bit of strength she had left in order to unleash her power.

  Gnarled hands pulled at her clothes. The bony creatures growled through open mouths filled with fangs. Kahlan was upright only because of all the hands on her, pulling at her, pressing her this way and that, tearing and yanking.

  As they went about their work of pulling her clothes off, the Hedge Maid turned to her jars and bottles, opening various containers, adding things to the smoldering fire in the broad, flat bowl in the center of the room. When sparks flew up, she used a slender stick to draw symbols in trays of ash to the side.

  Kahlan felt tears running down her face, dripping from her jaw, as she was dragged back by the glowing figures. The demonic, bony creatures hissed and snarled at her.

  Kahlan felt as if she were being conveyed by evil spirits to the torturous depths of the underworld.

  She thought that maybe she was.

  With the help of the snarling creatures, hands all around pulled strands of thorny vines up around her. They wrapped them around her wrists and ankles, anchoring the ends in the wall behind her, tying them in tight.

  Kahlan was only barely conscious as laughing, cavorting figures danced around with strands of vine and thorny branches, adding them to the weave of the wall.

  She cried out in pain when she realized that some of the creatures around her were biting her abdomen. She could feel the needle-sharp teeth sinking into her flesh. She cried out in despair and grief, too, over the thought of never seeing Richard again.

  She watched in horror as the glowing figures pressed bowls against her belly, collecting the blood as it rolled down her.

  Kahlan could do nothing to stop the madness. Every movement she made only worked the thorns deeper into her flesh.

  The glowing figures, and the bony creatures dancing around the room, all laughed and chattered in the strange squealing clicking sounds.

  Others, who had already collected bowls with blood running from Kahlan’s bite wounds, took the blood to the Hedge Maid. The woman with the leather strips sewing her lips shut drank greedily. Creatures danced around her, arms flailing in the air, feet high-stepping. The room pulsed with the drum-like sound of their bony feet slapping the woven floor.

  Kahlan’s blood ran down the small woman’s chin, dripping off in thick strings. Cockroaches emerged from the floor where the blood dropped to feast along with the Hedge Maid.

  Kahlan felt merciful darkness stealing her away from the insanity raging all around her.

  CHAPTER 81

  Richard stood staring through the soft haze of drizzle at the tunnel-shaped entrance of tightly woven sticks and branches. He thought that it looked just a little too welcoming. The whole, carefully maintained trail through the swamp of Kharga Trace was too easy, too simple, too enticing the way it encouraged visitors in.

  He wondered where the spider was.

  He knew that Kahlan had gone this way. He knew because he had tracked her there. He’d seen where she’d fallen from her horse and slid down the steep slope. He’d seen her footprints, staggering in a crooked line, wandering off the trail into boggy mud and then back again.

  He could tell by the tracks that she was hardly able to stand anymore. He could see by the halting, unsteady prints she left just how sick and exhausted she was.

  He would have caught up with her long before had his horse not been killed. It had happened after dark when
a huge wild boar had charged out of the brush. It wasn’t rutting season but wild boars could be aggressive anytime, and this one certainly had been, charging in at the horse when they surprised it. As the horse went down, the boar’s razor-sharp tusks slashed the horse’s belly open. Richard ran the boar through with his sword, but it was too late. After killing the boar, he had no choice but to put the horse out of its misery. There had been nothing he could do for the poor animal.

  With his horse dead, much of the last part of the race to catch Kahlan had been on foot. He had contemplated leaving her trail and going off to find another horse, but without knowing the area, he feared that even if he could manage to find a horse, the search would cost him too much time, so he had pressed on.

  Because she was so sick and weak she hadn’t traveled as swiftly as she might have, so she didn’t get out too far ahead of him. But she had been going fast enough that he couldn’t catch her on foot.

  As he stood at the tunnel entrance to the structure, he heard someone running toward him. By the stride and the weight of the footfalls, he thought it had to be an awfully small person.

  In another moment, a boy came racing out.

  He was wearing one of Kahlan’s shirts.

  Richard went to a knee and swept an arm around the boy’s middle to catch him before he could escape. He felt hot with fever.

  “Henrik?”

  The boy, panicked tears running down his face, stopped fighting and blinked. “Lord Rahl?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  The boy’s chin wrinkled as fresh tears welled up. “The Hedge Maid, Jit, had me. She put me in the walls with the others—”

  “Slow down. What do you mean, she put you in the walls?”

  Richard could see that the boy was bloodied from wounds all over his arms and legs. The shirt had spots of blood as well.