Soul of the Fire

by Terry Goodkind

  Richard raked back his hair. “I’ve wondered about that myself. The only answer I’ve been able to come up with is that they’re creatures of Subtractive Magic, and I’m the only one in thousands of years born with that side of magic. Maybe they fear my Subtractive Magic can harm them—maybe it can. It’s a hope, anyway.”

  “And the fire? That one lone bit of our wedding bonfires that was still burning that you snuffed out? That was one of them, wasn’t it?”

  Richard hated that they had been in their wedding bonfire. It was a defilement.

  “Yes. Sentrosi—the second chime. It means ‘fire.’ Reechani, the first, means ‘water.’ The third, Vasi, means ‘air.’”

  “But you put out the fire. The chime didn’t do anything to stop you. If they would kill Juni for insulting them, it certainly seems they would be angered by what you did. The chicken thing, too, ran from you.”

  “I don’t know, Kahlan. I don’t have an answer.”

  Peering into his eyes, she hesitated for a moment. “Maybe they didn’t harm you for the same reason they didn’t harm me.”

  “They think I, too, am their mother?”

  “Father,” she said, unconsciously stroking the dark stone at her throat. “I used the spell to keep you alive, to keep you from crossing over into the world of the dead. The spell called the chimes because they were from the other side and had the power to do that. Maybe, since we were both involved, they think of us as father and mother—as their parents.”

  Richard let out a long breath. “That’s possible, I’m not saying it isn’t, but when I felt them near, I just got the sense of something more to it—something that made my hair stand on end.”

  “More? More like what?”

  “It was an overwhelming sense of their lust whenever they were near me, and at the same time monstrous loathing.”

  Kahlan rubbed her arms, chilled by such obscene wickedness among them. A humorless smile, bitter with irony, crossed her face.

  “Shota always said we would together conceive a monstrous offspring.”

  Richard cupped her cheek. “Someday, Kahlan. Someday.”

  On the verge of tears, she turned from his hand, his gaze, to stare off at the horizon. She cleared her throat and gathered her voice.

  “If magic is failing, at least Jagang will lose its help He controls those with magic to help his army. At least if he could no longer do that, there would be that much good in all this.

  “He used one of those wizards to try to kill us. He was able to use one of the Sisters of the Light to bring the plague from the Temple of the Winds. If magic fails because of the chimes, at least it will fail for Jagang, too.”

  Richard pulled his lower lip through his teeth. “I’ve been thinking about that. If the chicken thing was afraid of me because I have Subtractive Magic, Jagang’s control over those with magic might very well no longer work, but—”

  “Dear spirits,” she whispered, turning back to look up at him. “The Sisters of the Dark. They may not have been born with it, but they know how to use Subtractive Magic.”

  Richard nodded reluctantly. “I fear that Jagang, if nothing else, might still have the Sisters of the Dark. Their magic will work.”

  “Our only hope, then, is with Zedd and Ann. Let’s hope they will be able to stop the chimes.”

  Richard couldn’t force a smile for her. “How? Neither of them is able to use Subtractive Magic. The magic they do have is failing along with all other magic. They will be just as helpless as that unborn child that died. I’m sure they’ve gone, but where?”

  She gave him a look, very much a Mother Confessor look. “Had you remembered your first wife when you should have, Richard, we could have told Zedd. It might have made a difference. Now that chance is lost to us. You picked a very bad time to become negligent.”

  He wanted to argue with her, tell her it wouldn’t have made any difference, tell her she was wrong, but he couldn’t. She wasn’t wrong. Zedd would have gone off alone to battle the chimes. Richard wondered if they might go back and track his grandfather.

  She at last took his hand in hers, gave it a brave pat with her other, and then marched them back to where the others waited. She held her head erect. Her face was a Confessor’s face, devoid of emotion, full of authority.

  “We don’t yet know what to do about them,” Kahlan announced, “but I’m convinced beyond doubt: the chimes are loose upon the world.”

  30

  For the benefit of the hunters, Kahlan repeated her announcement in the Mud People’s language. Richard wished she had been right that it was the Lurk and not the chimes. They would have had a solution for the Lurk.

  Everyone looked understandably disquieted to hear Kahlan, after having been so steadfast in her arguments it was the Lurk, now tell them she accepted beyond doubt the fact that they were confronted with nothing less than the full threat of the chimes.

  It didn’t look to Richard, once she had said she agreed with him, that anyone still harbored doubts of their own. With Kahlan’s words, it seemed the world had for everyone just changed.

  Uneasy silence enveloped the plains.

  Richard needed to get on with trying to figure out what to do next, but didn’t really have any idea how to do that. He didn’t even know where to start. He now realized what he should have done, when he had the chance. He had been so intent on the danger he had ignored everything else.

  He was a long way from the woods he knew. He wished he were back in those woods. At least when he had been a guide, he never forgot what path he was on, or led anyone over a cliff.

  He turned his attention to the Baka Tau Mana’s dark-haired spirit woman.

  “Du Chaillu, why have you came all this way? What are you doing here?”

  “Ahh,” Du Chaillu said as she folded her hands before herself with deliberate care. “Now the Caharin wishes me to speak?”

  The woman was bottled ire. Richard didn’t really see why, and he didn’t really care.

  “Yes, why have you come?”

  “We have traveled many days. We have suffered hardship. We have buried some of those who started with us. We have had to fight our way through hostile places. We have shed the blood of many to reach you.

  “We left our families and loved ones to bear warning to our Caharin. We have gone without food, without sleep, and without the comfort of a safe place. We have faced nights where we all wept for we felt afraid and sick at heart away from our homeland.

  “I have traveled with the child the Caharin asked me to bear when I would have gone to an herb woman and shed it—shed the dreadful memories I carry with it. Yet he does not even acknowledge that I chose to honor his words and accept the responsibility of this child thrust upon me.

  “The Caharin does not even recognize that I must every day be reminded, by the child he asked me to bear, of the time I spent chained naked to a wall in the stinking place of the Majendie. Reminded of where I came to be with this child. Reminded of how those men used me for their pleasure and then laughed at me. Reminded of where I daily endured the fear that would be the day I was to be butchered and sacrificed. Reminded of where I wept my heart out for my own babies who would be left without their mother, and wept that I would never again see their little smiles or have the joy of watching them grow.

  “But I honored the Caharin’s words and carry the child of dogs, because the Caharin asked it of me.

  “The Caharin pays his own people, who have journeyed all this way, little more than passing notice, as if we were no more than fleas at which he must scratch. He asks not how we do in our homeland. He does not invite us to at long last sit with him that we might rejoice to be together. He asks not if we are at peace. He inquires not if we are fed, or if we are thirsty.

  “He only shouts and argues that we are not his people because he is ignorant of the sacred laws by which we have lived for countless centuries, and dismisses those same laws solely because he was not taught their words, as if that alone makes
them unimportant. Many have died by those laws so that he might learn by them and live another day.

  “He gives his people no more thought than the dung beneath his boots. He turns his wife by our law away from his mind without a second thought. He treats his wife by law as a pest, to be put aside until he has want of her.

  “The old laws promised us a Caharin. I admit they did not promise us one who would honor his people and their ways and laws that have joined us in purpose, although I thought any man would honor those who have suffered so much for him.

  “I have suffered the loss of my husbands by your hand and grieved out of your sight so that you might not suffer for it. My children have endured with brave sorrow the loss of their fathers by your hand. They weep at bed for the man who kissed their brow and wished them good dreams of their homeland. Yet you do not bother to ask how I fare without those husbands who I and my children loved dearly, nor do you even ask how my children fare in their heartache.

  “You do not even ask how I fare without my new husband by our law while he is off acquiring other wives. You think so little of me that you bother not to mention my existence to your new wife.”

  Du Chaillu’s chin rose with indignation.

  “So, now I am permitted to speak? So, now you wish at last to hear my words after my long and difficult journey? So, now you wish to hear if I have anything worthy of your lofty ears?”

  Du Chaillu spat at his feet. “You shame me.”

  She folded her arms and turned her back to him.

  Richard stared at the back of her head. The blade masters were peering off as if deaf and wishing for little more than to spot a bird in the sky.

  “Du Chaillu,” Richard said, growing a bit heated himself, “don’t lay the death of those people on me. I tried everything I knew to keep from having to fight them, from harming them. You know I did. I begged you to stop it. It was within your power, yet you would not halt it. I was loath to do as I did. You know I had no choice.”

  She glared over her shoulder. “You had choice. You could have chosen to die rather than to kill. In honor of what you had done for me, saving me from the Majendie’s sacrifice, I promised you that if you did not resist, your death would be quick. It would have been your one life lost instead of thirty; if you are so noble and so concerned for preserving life, then you would have let it be so.”

  Richard ground his teeth and shook his finger at her. “You have your men attack me, and you expect me to simply let myself be murdered rather than defend myself? After I saved you? Had I died instead of those men, the killing would have then started in earnest! You know I brought a peace that saved many more lives. And you don’t understand the first thing about the rest of it.”

  She huffed. “You are wrong, my husband.” She turned her back again. “I understand more than you wish I did.”

  Cara rolled her eyes. “Lord Rahl, you really need to learn to respect you wives better, or you will never have a moment of domestic tranquillity.” She spoke out of the side of her mouth as she stepped past him. “Let me speak with her—woman to woman. See if I can’t smooth things over for you.”

  Cara hooked a hand under Du Chaillu’s arm to walk her off for a private talk. Six swords cleared their scabbards. In the blink of an eye, steel was spinning in the morning light as the blade masters advanced, passing the whirling weapons back and forth from left hand to right and back again.

  The Mud People hunters moved to block them. Within the space of a heartbeat, the plains had gone from uneasy peace to the brink of a bloody battle.

  Richard threw up his hands. “Everyone stop!”

  He moved in front of Cara and Du Chaillu, blocking the men’s advance.

  “Cara, let go of her. She is their spirit woman. You are not permitted to touch her. The Baka Ban Mana were persecuted and sacrificed by the Majendie for millennia. They are understandably fractious when it comes to strangers laying hands on them.”

  Cara released Du Chaillu’s arm, but both groups of men were unwilling to be the first to back down. The Mud People had suddenly hostile strangers on their hands. The Baka Tau Mana suddenly had men about to attack them for defending their spirit woman. With all the heated blood, the risk was that someone would go for the advantage of striking first and later worry about counting the dead.

  Richard held one hand up. “Listen to me! All of you!”

  With his other hand, he reached out and tugged on the leather thong around Du Chaillu’s neck, hoping it held under the neckline of her dress what he thought it did.

  The hunters’ eyes widened when Richard pulled it free and they saw the Bird Man’s whistle on the end of that thong.

  “This is the whistle the Bird Man gave to me.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Kahlan and whispered for her to translate. She began talking to the hunters in the Mud People’s language as Richard went on.

  “You remember the Bird Man, in a gesture of peace, giving me this whistle. This woman, Du Chaillu, is a protector of her people. In the Bird Man’s honor, and in his hope for peace, I gave her the whistle so she could call birds to eat the seeds her enemies planted. When her enemies feared they would have no crops and starve, they finally agreed to peace. It was the first time these two peoples ever had peace, and they all owe that peace to the great gift of the Bird Man’s whistle.

  “The Baka Tau Mana owe the Mud People a great debt. The Mud People also owe a debt to the Baka Tau Mana for honoring that gift as the Mud People intended it by using it to bring peace, rather than harm. The Mud People should be proud that the Baka Tau Mana would trust in the Mud People’s gift to bring their families safety.

  “Your two peoples are friends.”

  No one moved as they considered Richard’s words. Finally, Jiaan put his sword over his shoulder, letting it hang behind his back by the cord around his neck. He pulled open his outfit, exposing his chest to Chandalen.

  “We thank you and your people for the safety and peace brought to our people by your gift of powerful magic. We will not fight you. If you wish to take back the peace you have given us, you may strike at our hearts. We will not defend ourselves against such great peace-givers as the Mud People.”

  Chandalen withdrew his spear, planting the butt in the soil of his homeland. “Richard with the Temper speaks the truth. We are pleased your people used our gift as it was meant to be used—to bring peace. You will be welcomed and safe while in our homeland.”

  Accompanied by a lot of arm waving, Chandalen gave orders to his hunters. As all the men began standing down, Richard at last let out his breath and thanked the good spirits for their help.

  Kahlan took Du Chaillu’s arm and spoke with finality. “I am going to have a talk with Du Chaillu.”

  The Baka Tau Mana clearly didn’t like it, but were now unsure what to do about it. Richard wasn’t sure if he liked the idea either. It might be the start of another war.

  Reluctantly, though, he decided he had better let Kahlan have her way and talk to Du Chaillu. He could tell by the look on Kahlan’s face that it wasn’t his decision to make, anyway. He turned to the blade masters.

  “Kahlan, my wife, is the Mother Confessor and the leader of all the people of New World. She is to be respected as is our spirit woman, Du Chaillu. You have my word as Caharin that the Mother Confessor will not harm Du Chaillu. If I lie to you, you may consider my life forfeit.”

  The men nodded their agreement. Richard didn’t know if he or Du Chaillu ranked higher in their eyes, but his calm and reassuring tone, if nothing else, helped to disarm their objections. He knew, too, that, if nothing else, these men respected him, not just because he had killed thirty of their number, but because he had done something much more difficult. He had returned them to their ancestral homeland.

  Richard stood shoulder to shoulder with Cara watching Kahlan walk Du Chaillu off into the tall grass. It still glistened with droplets of water from the night’s rain that had here and there left behind puddles.

  “Lord Ra
hl,” Cara asked under her breath, “do you think that is wise?”

  “I trust Kahlan’s judgment. We have a great deal of trouble on our hands. We don’t have any time to waste.”

  Cara rolled her Agiel in her fingers, considering it for a long, silent moment. “Lord Rahl, if magic is failing, has yours failed yet?”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  Cara stayed close by his side as he approached the blade masters. Though he recognized several, he only knew one by name.

  “Jiaan, Du Chaillu said some of your people died on your journey here.”

  Jiaan sheathed his sword. “Three.”

  “In battle?”

  Looking uncomfortable, the man swiped his dark hair back off his forehead. “One. The other two… had accidents.”

  “Involving fire or water?”

  Jiaan let out a heavyhearted breath. “Not water, but while standing watch one fell into the fire. He burned to death before we knew what had happened. At the time we thought he must have fallen and hit his head. From what you say, maybe this was not true. Maybe these chimes killed him?”

  Richard nodded. He whispered in sorrow the name of one of the chimes of death—Sentrosi, the chime of fire. “And the third?”

  Jiaan shifted his weight to his other foot. “Coming across a high trail, he suddenly thought he could fly.”

  “Fly?”

  Jiaan nodded. “But he could fly no better than a rock.”

  “Maybe he lost his footing and fell.”

  “I saw his face just before he tried to fly. He was smiling as he did when he saw our homeland for the first time.”

  Again in sorrow, Richard whispered the name of the third chime. The three chimes, Reechani, Sentrosi, Vasi—water, fire, air—had claimed more lives.

  “The chimes have killed Mud People, too. I had been hoping they were only here, where Kahlan and I are, but it seems the chimes are other places, too.”

  Over the shoulders of the six blade masters, Richard saw that the Mud People had flattened an area of grass and were preparing to start a fire in order to share a meal with their new friends.