Confessor (29 page)

“Your aim, with such sensationalized charges against a man who so values life, is to discredit, dishonor, and disgrace him into fearing to act as he must if he is to win.

“You create a diversion with half-truths in order to turn all eyes away from the real implications of your beliefs and to win converts to the Order’s twisted ideology. You accuse others of the things you are actually guilty of, knowing that it will stir emotions.

“But in the end, such dramatic charges are merely a cover—an attempt to latch onto an excuse to legitimize your routine killing of unimaginable numbers of people.

“You and I both know the truth of the endless corpses of women and children the Order leaves in its wake, but those are ignored in your contrived moral outrage. Your brutality, savagery, and cruelty against those who have done nothing to the people in the Old World frame the true nature of your beliefs. The enormity of your depravity is only compounded by blaming the victim with the crimes you bring to his people, the same as you blame me for my own rape.

“I was there the day Richard gave those troops their orders. I know the truth.

“The truth is that the minds of most people of the Old World have been irrevocably blackened by their fanatical devotion to ideas that result only in suffering and death. Those people are beyond redemption by reason. Richard knows that the only way to deal with evil, to break a people’s bond to it, is to make holding on to such beliefs unendurable.

“The Order itself has made this a war to the end. Richard knows that his people cannot survive by trying to coexist with such evil, or by excusing those who nurture it.

“The Order seeks to exterminate liberty. The knife that the Order is trying to thrust into his heart is driven by devotion to the corrupt beliefs of the Order. Richard understands that he must eliminate the source of those beliefs or freethinking people everywhere will all die, murdered by men encouraged and fed by the people of the Old World.

“War is a terrible business. The faster it is ended the less suffering and death there will be. That is Richard’s goal. The weak-minded would shrink from what must be done for fear of being criticized by the wicked. Richard is not going to be deterred by the words of hypocrites and haters.

“The truth is that his orders were that, whenever possible, his soldiers should avoid harming people, but ending the war is their overriding objective. To do that, they must destroy the Order’s ability to wage war. As soldiers, that is the responsibility Richard Rahl charged them with—they are defending their people’s right to exist. He told them that anything else is just whistling on the way to their graves.

“This war is merely an extension of the great war that raged so long ago, but never really ended. The Old World again has fallen prey to the evil ideas of the Order. How many lives have been wasted because of those beliefs? How many yet will be?

“The last time, those defending against such teachings did not have the courage to crush them into cold, lifeless ashes and as a result this ancient war has once again rekindled at the hands of the Fellowship of Order. Just as back then, it is sparked by those same mindless ideas that everyone must believe the same as they do or die.

“Richard understands that this time it must be ended once and for all, that the world of life must be liberated
from the poison of the Order. He has the courage to do just that. He will not be dissuaded by your taunts. He doesn’t care what other people think of him. He only cares that they can’t again harm him and those he cares about.

“To make sure of that, those who preach the Order’s hate will be hunted down and killed.

“The D’Haran army may not be anywhere near as large as the Imperial Order, but they will still strangle you. They will burn crops and orchards, destroy mills and stables, break dams and canals. Anyone who gets in the way of their halting the Old World’s ability to wage war will be eliminated.

“Most importantly, those soldiers will cut the supply lines headed north. Ending your ability to kill these people is Richard’s only objective. Unlike you, he does not need to teach anyone a lesson in dominance—but he will end yours.

“There will be no final battle to decide it all, as was your plan. Richard does not care how your men are stopped, only that they are—once and for all.

“Without supplies, your army will wither and die out here on this barren plain. That is victory enough.”

Jagang smiled in a way that in turn gave Nicci pause. “Darlin, the Old World is a big place. They waste their efforts attacking crops. They can’t be everywhere.”

“They don’t have to be.”

He shrugged. “They may be able to attack supply trains from here and there, but that is simply the sacrifice our people make for the advancement of our cause. Casualties, no matter how many, are the cost of achieving moral ends.

“Because I understand the price that must be paid to take us to our final victory, I had already ordered a dramatic increase in the numbers of supplies being sent north to our valiant troops. We can send more men and supplies than Richard Rahl can hope to stop.

“The people of the Old World will sacrifice what they
must in order to see to it that we have what we need to persevere. The price has been raised, but our people will gladly pay it. I expect that you’re right, that many of those supply trains will be destroyed, but the D’Haran forces do not have enough men to stop them all.”

Nicci’s insides tightened. “A bold boast.”

“If you don’t believe me you can judge for yourself if I’m telling the truth. Another new train will arrive soon, a supply train so long that you would have to stand in one place for two days just to watch it all pass before your eyes. Don’t you worry, our brave men will have enough supplies to press this war to its conclusion.”

Nicci shook her head. “You’re not seeing the whole of it. If you can’t catch and defeat the D’Haran forces, you can’t win this war. There are people in the Old World, just like anywhere else, who long to live their own lives as they wish. The Order may blind a great many with its teachings, but there are individuals everywhere who use their minds and understand the truth of life. There are such people all over the Old World who will turn against the Order.

“You have only to look at Altur’Rang. I was there when it fell. It had been a place of widespread suffering under the rule of the Imperial Order. Now that it has thrown off those shackles, the people there prosper. Other people will see such a change and be encouraged to have their own life. They, too, will want to prosper.”

Jagang looked outraged at such talk. “Prosper? They are merely heathens dancing on the ground that will be their graves. They will be crushed. That is what people will see—that the Order will rightly punish those who turn away from their duty to their fellow man. The punishment they suffer for their selfishness will be remembered for the next thousand years.”

“And the D’Haran forces? The wolves set loose on your flock? They will not be so easily eliminated. They will con
tinue to break the hold of the Order. They will continue to hound those who have sent war north, eviscerating the very core of the Fellowship of Order.”

Jagang grinned. “Oh, darlin, you are so wrong about that. You forget the boxes of Orden.”

“You have only two.”

“At the moment, maybe, but I will have all three. When I do, then I will unleash the power of Orden to do our bidding. With the power of Orden under my control, all opposition will be swept away in the firestorm of our righteous cause. I will use the power of Orden to burn the flesh from every one of those D’Haran troops, and leave each one to die a slow, agonizing death. Hunted by the power of Orden, there will be nowhere for them to hide. Their screams will be the sound of sweet justice to our people now suffering under their brutality. I will also make each one of those heathen traitors from Altur’Rang suffer for betraying our teachings.

“The power of Orden will serve the cause of the Fellowship of Order and in the end strike the D’Harans down—no matter where they are.

“I will grind Richard Rahl’s bones to dust. He is a dead man, he just doesn’t know it, yet.”

Jagang’s grim grin gave Nicci goose bumps. “But first,” he said with obvious delight, “I want him to live long enough to see it all, live long enough to truly suffer. You know how much I like those who have opposed me to live so that they may endure the pain of proper suffering.”

His voice lowered to a growl. “To that end, I have something very, very dear to Richard Rahl. When I unleash the power of Orden I will at long last be able to bring him pain he can’t begin to imagine. It will bring him the kind of emotional anguish that will crush his spirit, crush his very soul, before I crush his worldly body.”

Nicci knew that Jagang was talking about Kahlan, but
she dared not let him know what she knew about it. It took all her willpower not to glance at her, not to give away what she knew.

“We will prevail,” he said. “I offer you the opportunity to return to my side—to the Order’s side. In the end, you have no choice in the matter but to accept the Creator’s will. It is time for you to accept your moral responsibility to your fellow man.”

She had known from the moment she had entered the camp that she had no chance to escape the inevitable. She would never again see Richard, or freedom.

Jagang gestured dismissively. “You can accomplish nothing with your childish affection for Richard Rahl.”

Nicci knew what was going to happen if she did not submit to his authority and accept his offer. If she did not accept, he was going to make it all that much more agonizing for her.

But her life was hers, now, and she would not throw it away willingly.

“If you are going to grind Richard Rahl to dust,” she said in her most condescending tone, “if he is nothing more than a petty problem to you, then why are you so concerned about him?” She arched an eyebrow. “More to the point, why are you so jealous of him?”

His face flushing red with rage, Jagang seized her by the throat. With a roar he heaved her onto the bed. She drew a sharp breath just before he landed on her. He straddled her middle, then leaned to the side and retrieved something. With his weight atop her she could hardly breathe.

One meaty hand grabbed her face to hold her head still even though she made no effort to resist. With the thumb and knuckle of the other hand he pulled her lower lip out. When he released her face she saw that he was holding a sharpened awl.

He stabbed it through her lower lip, twisting it around,
making a hole. Tears of pain stung at her eyes. She dared not move lest he rip her lip off.

After he pulled the awl out he pushed a split gold ring through her freshly pierced lip.

Bending forward, he used his teeth to close the ring.

His stubble scraped against her cheek as he pressed close and whispered in her ear. “You are mine. Until the day I decide you are to die, your life belongs to me. You might as well forget any thoughts of Richard Rahl. When I’ve finished with you the Keeper will have you for betraying me.”

When he straightened, he slapped her. The powerful wallop felt like it rattled her teeth. “Your whoring with Richard Rahl is ended. You will soon enough be begging to admit that you were only trying to make me jealous and that my bed is where you really wanted to be all along. Isn’t that right?”

Nicci stared up at him without showing any emotion or saying anything.

He hit her across the face with a closed fist. “Admit it!”

With all her strength, Nicci steadied her voice. “You can’t make someone care about you by hitting them.”

“You make me hit you! It’s your own fault! You say things that you know will make me angry. I wouldn’t hit you if you wouldn’t keep pushing me into it. You bring it on yourself.”

As if to prove his point, he delivered two mighty blows across her face. She did her best to ignore the pain. She knew that this was only the beginning.

Nicci stared up at him. She said nothing. She had been beneath him enough times to know very well what was coming.

She was already going off to that faraway place in her mind. She no longer focused on the man atop her, hitting her. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling of the tent.

As his fists pounded her, she hardly felt it. It was only her body, somewhere distant, that was hurting.

She had to breathe through a burble of blood.

She knew that he was pulling off her dress, knew that his big hands were groping her, but she ignored that, too.

Instead—as Jagang beat her, pawed her, climbed on top of her, forced her legs open—she thought about Richard, about how he always treated her with respect.

As the nightmare started, she dreamed of other things.

With the back of her wrist, Rachel wiped sweat from her forehead. She knew that as soon as she stopped working she would get cold, but at the moment she was sweating. It was hard to stop, because she was in a hurry. She knew that she couldn’t hurry when she was stopped for the night, but she still felt driven to rush, so she raced as she built her shelter.

She didn’t like to think about what would happen to her if she didn’t hurry.

The pine boughs she had cut and leaned up against the low rock wall would help block the cold wind. She’d braced them with a support made of dead cedar saplings she had found nearby. Cutting fresh pine branches with a knife wasn’t easy. Chase had taught her how to build a shelter. He probably wouldn’t think much of this one, but without at least a hatchet it was the best she could do. At least, it was the best she felt like doing. All she really felt like doing was hurrying.

She’d picketed the horse close, after letting it drink its fill from a nearby brook. She had been careful to give it enough line to be able to crop at the bunches of grass growing along the bank.

Using the flint from the saddlebags, she’d built a fire just inside the protection of the wind block she’d made. It was terrifying being out alone in the countryside at night. There could be bears, or mountain lions, or wolves. A fire helped her to feel safe while she got some sleep waiting for first light. She needed it to be light so that she could start out again. She needed to get going. She needed to hurry.

When she started getting cold, Rachel put another piece of the driftwood she’d collected on the fire and then sat on the small blanket she’d laid over pine boughs. Chase had taught her that a fresh cushion of pine or spruce branches would keep her up off the ground and help keep her warm. She put her back to the rock wall so that nothing could sneak up behind her. With it getting darker, she was feeling afraid.

Rather than think about being afraid, she pulled the saddlebags closer and retrieved a piece of dried meat. She tore off a small bite with her teeth and sucked on it for a time, letting the taste start to satisfy her gnawing hunger. She didn’t have a lot of food left, so she was trying to conserve what she had. It wasn’t long, though, until she was chewing and swallowing.

She broke off a piece of hard biscuit and, holding it in her palm, dribbled a little water from the waterskin onto it to try to soften it up a bit before she tried to chew it. The biscuits were as hard as rocks. The dried meat was easier to chew than the biscuits, but she had more biscuits.

She’d searched for berries as she rode, but it was too late in the year for there to be any left. One day she had spotted a wild apple tree. Even though they were shriveled they had looked like they might make a meal, but she knew better than to eat red fruit. Red fruit was poisonous. As hungry as she was for something other than dried meat and dried biscuits, she didn’t want to get poisoned.

Rachel sat quietly for a time, chewing on the tough meat
as she stared into the fire. She kept listening for things that might be out in the darkness beyond the fire. She didn’t want to be surprised by a hungry animal that might think she’d make a good meal.

When she looked up, there was a woman standing before her, on the opposite side of the fire.

Rachel gasped. She tried to back up, but the rock wall was right there behind her. She thought that she might be able to slip away to the side if she had to. She snatched up her knife.

“Please, don’t be afraid.”

Rachel thought that it was just about the most pleasing, gentle, kind voice she had ever heard. Still, she knew better than to be taken in by kind-sounding words.

She stared up at the woman, trying to decide what to do, as the woman stared down at her. She didn’t look threatening. She didn’t do anything that seemed unfriendly. She had, though, shown up out in the middle of nowhere.

There was something about her that looked faintly familiar. Her pleasant voice still sang in Rachel’s mind. The woman was pretty enough, with plain, cropped blond hair. Her arms hung slack, hands joined before her, fingers loosely knitted together. She wore simple flaxen robes that reached all the way to the ground. The shawl around her shoulders looked to be dyed from henna.

Her modest dress made her look like she must be a commoner, rather than a woman of noble rank. From having lived at the palace in Tamarang Rachel knew a lot about noble women. Noble women were usually trouble for someone like Rachel.

“Please, may I sit and share your fire?” the woman asked in that voice that had Rachel hanging on every word.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t know you. Keep back.”

The woman smiled a little. “Are you sure you don’t know me, Rachel?”

Rachel swallowed. Goose bumps tingled up her arms.

“How do you know my name?”

The smile widened a little—not in a cunning way, but in a gentle, kindhearted manner. The woman’s eyes, too, had a softness about them that made it seem like they could never intend harm. Still, that did not do much to diminish Rachel’s caution. She’d been fooled by nice-looking ladies in the past.

“Would you like something to eat other than that dry traveling food?”

“No. I’m fine,” Rachel said. “I mean, I appreciate your offer, it’s very kind of you, but I’m fine, thank you.”

The woman bent and picked up something lying on the ground behind her. When she stood again, Rachel saw that it was a string of small trout.

She held them up. “Would it be all right if I just used your fire to cook these for myself, then?”

Rachel was having trouble trying to think. She had to hurry. That was all she seemed able to focus on—that she had to hurry. But she couldn’t hurry at camp. She couldn’t leave until it was light.

“I suppose it would be all right if you cooked your fish on the fire.”

The woman smiled again. It was a smile that for some reason lifted Rachel’s heart.

“Thank you. I’ll not be any trouble to you.”

Quick as a wink, she turned and disappeared into the night. Rachel had no idea where she went, or why. The string of fish still lay nearby. Rachel sat listening into the darkness as the fire hissed and popped. She clutched her knife tightly in her fist as she strained to hear off into the darkness for any sign that the woman might have other people with her.

When she returned, the woman had a pile of big moose
maple leaves, a number of them covered with a thick layer of mud. The woman said nothing as she squatted down and went about preparing the fish. She rolled each fish in a clean moose maple leaf, then lined them all up in the mud, layered mud on top, and finally wrapped it all in leaves. When she was finished making the rolled-up mud oven she carefully placed it on the fire.

The whole time, Rachel watched her. It was hard not to. In fact, Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off the woman. There was something about her that just kind of made Rachel ache with longing to be closer to her. Still, her sense of caution wouldn’t allow it.

Besides, she was in a hurry.

The woman backed away a few paces, apparently so as not to frighten Rachel, and sat on the ground, folding her legs under her, to wait for her fish to cook. Flames danced in the cold night air, and sparks swirled up whenever the wood popped. From time to time the woman warmed her hands at the fire.

Rachel was having a hard time not thinking about the fish. It smelled delicious. She could imagine how good it would taste. But she had said that she didn’t want any.

Rachel realized, then, that she had asked a question before and never gotten an answer.

“How do you know my name?”

The woman shrugged one shoulder. “The good spirits must have whispered it in my ear.”

Rachel thought that was about the silliest thing she had ever heard. She couldn’t help giggling, though.

“In truth,” the woman said, looking more serious, “I remember you.”

The goose bumps returned. “From the castle in Tamarang?”

The woman rolled a finger. “No. From before then.”

Rachel frowned. “From the orphanage?”

The woman made a little sound to confirm it. She suddenly looked sad.

Together they watched the flames waver and dance, and throw light against the rock wall and lean-to of pine boughs. In the distance coyotes howled in long, lonely wails. Whenever the coyotes started in to howling Rachel was glad for the fire. She could easily be prey for wolves and such if not for the fire.

The bugs nearby chirped and buzzed while moths whirled in circles through the light. Swirling sparks ascended into the night sky, looking as if they were eager to join the stars. It was all making Rachel sleepy.

“I bet the fish are ready,” the woman said in a bright voice.

She scooted forward and used a stick to roll the little mud oven out of the fire. Spreading the leaves open on the ground, she finally exposed the fish inside. They were steaming hot, and flaky.

She broke off a piece and tasted it, then moaned with delight at how good it tasted.

Then she put the rest of the little trout on a moose maple leaf and offered it to Rachel. Rachel sat staring at the hand. She had said that she didn’t want any of the woman’s fish.

“Thank you, but I have my own things to eat. You should have your fish.”

“Nonsense, there’s more than enough. Please, won’t you eat some with me? Just a little? After all, I used the fire you worked to build, so it’s the least I can do.”

Rachel stared at the delicious-looking fish on the leaf in the palm of the woman’s hand.

“Well, if you don’t mind, then, I’ll have one.”

The woman smiled and the world suddenly seemed a better place. Rachel thought that it must be a smile like a mother would have—filled with simple delight at the wonder of life.

She tried not to devour the fish. That it was steaming hot helped to slow her down. That, and the sharp little bones. It felt so good to eat hot food that she almost cried with joy. When she finished the fish, the woman handed her another. Rachel took it without hesitation. She so needed to eat. She told herself that she needed to be strong so that she could hurry. The tender fish warmed the pang of hunger lodged deep in the pit of her stomach, making the ache melt away. Rachel ate four more before she was full.

“Don’t push your horse so hard tomorrow,” the woman said. “If you do, it will die.”

Rachel blinked. “How do you know that?”

“I introduced myself to your animal when I came across your camp. Your horse is in sorry shape.”

Rachel felt bad for the horse, but she had to hurry. She couldn’t slow for anything. She had to hurry.

“If I go any slower, they’ll get me.”

The woman cocked her head. “Who will get you?”

“The ghostie gobblies.”

“Ah, I see.”

“The ghostie gobblies are after me. Whenever I slow they start to get closer.” Tears stung Rachel’s eyes. “I don’t want the ghostie gobblies to get me.”

The woman was there, then, right next to her, circling an arm around her, sheltering her. It felt so good that Rachel started to cry in the comfort of that protection. She had to hurry. She was so afraid.

“If you kill the horse,” the woman said in a soft, gentle voice, “then the ghostie gobblies will get you, now, won’t they? Take it just a little slower. You have time.”

Rachel snuggled in the nook of the woman’s arm. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You need to let the horse get its strength back. It won’t do you any good to kill the animal. Trust me, you
don’t want to be out in the deserted countryside without a horse.”

“Because then the ghostie gobblies will get me?”

The woman nodded. “Because then the ghostie gobblies will get you.”

When a shiver ran up Rachel’s back, the woman squeezed her tight until it went away. Rachel realized that she had the hem of her dress in her mouth, just like she used to do when she was little.

“Hold out your hand,” the woman said in that soothing voice she had. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

“Hold out your hand.”

When Rachel held out her hand the woman laid something small in it. Rachel held it up closer, trying to see it better. It was short, and straight.

“Put it in your pocket.”

Rachel looked up at the gentle face watching her. “Why?”

“For when you need it.”

“Need it? What will I need it for?”

“You will know when the time comes. You will know when you need it. When you do, remember that it’s there, in your pocket.”

“But what is it?”

The woman smiled that wonderful smile. “It’s what you need, Rachel.”

As baffled as she was, Rachel couldn’t think of how to solve the riddle. She slipped the small thing into her pocket.

“Is it magic?” Rachel asked.

“No,” the woman said. “It’s not magic. But it’s what you will need.”

“Will it save me?”

“I have to go now,” the woman said.

Rachel felt a lump rising in her throat. “Couldn’t you sit by the fire a little while?”

The woman gazed at her with knowing, gentle eyes. “I suppose I could.”

Rachel felt goose bumps tingling up her arms again.

She knew who the woman was.

“You’re my mother, aren’t you?”

The woman smoothed a hand down Rachel’s hair. She had a sad smile. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Rachel knew that her mother was dead, or, at least she had been told that she was.

Maybe this was her mother’s good spirit.

Rachel opened her mouth to speak again, but her mother gently shushed her, then tipped Rachel’s head against her. “You need rest. I’ll watch over you. Sleep. You’re safe with me.”

Rachel was so tired. She listened to the wonderful sound of her mother’s heart beating. She stretched her arms around her mother’s ribs, and nuzzled against her.

Rachel had a thousand questions, but she didn’t think that she would be able to get a single word past the lump in her throat. Besides, she didn’t really want to talk. She just wanted to be held in the shelter of her mother’s arms.

As much as she loved Chase, this was something that felt so special that she knew it was unfair to compare it to anything else. She loved Chase fiercely. This was wonderful in its own way. It was like two halves that made a whole.