Faith of the Fallen (39 page)

Enjoying the calming effect of his hand, Kahlan finally managed to get the knot undone. Zedd sat back in his chair as she unfurled her bedding. The carving of
Spirit
was rolled up inside, for safekeeping. Its height was just right to fit crosswise in her bedroll. Kahlan lifted it out and held it to her heart a moment. She turned, then, and set
Spirit
on the little table.

Zedd slowly rose to his feet. He was a collection of bony angles under his maroon robes. With one arm crooked to point while he gaped at
Spirit
standing proudly atop the small table, his lanky body looked as stiff as a spindly tree in winter.

“Where else did you stop on your way here?” He cast a suspicious look in her direction. “Have you been looting treasures from palaces?”

She realized then that the look wasn’t so much meant to be suspicious, as teasing. Kahlan ran a finger down
Spirit
’s flowing robes, letting her gaze follow the strength in the lines of the woman’s strong pose. Something felt so right about the way her head was thrown back, with her fists at her sides, and her back arched, standing against the invisible power trying to subdue her.

“No.” Kahlan swallowed. “Richard carved it for me.”

Zedd’s brow drew lower. He stared at the carving for a time before reaching out a sticklike finger to touch it, as if it were some priceless antiquity.

“Dear spirits…”

Kahlan pretended a smile. “Almost. It’s called
Spirit
, he said. Richard carved it for me when I was feeling like I would never get better. It helped me…”

In the awful silence, Zedd finally turned from the woman with her fists at her sides and her head thrown back to peer into Kahlan’s eyes. He frowned in the oddest way.

“It’s you,” he said half to himself. “Dear spirits…the boy carved a statue of your spirit. I recognize it. It’s as plain as day.”

Zedd was not only Richard’s grandfather—he was now hers, too. He was not merely the First Wizard. He was also the man who had helped raise Richard. Zedd had no family left save Richard.

Other than a half sister and brother who were strangers but for blood, neither did she. She was as alone in the world as was Zedd.

Now, through Richard, Zedd was her family, but even if he wasn’t, she realized he could mean no less to her.

“We’ll get him back, dear one,” he whispered in tender compassion. His sticklike hand reverently cupped her face. “We’ll get him back.”

Everything seemed to be swimming. Kahlan fell into his protective arms and dissolved into tears.

Warren carefully pulled the snow-laden pine bough aside for her. Kahlan peered through the gap.

“There,” he said in a low voice. “You see?”

Kahlan nodded as she squinted off into the narrow valley far below. The scene was frosted white—white trees, white rocks, white meadows. Enemy troops moving up the distant valley floor looked like a dark line of ants marching across powdered sugar.

“I don’t think you need to whisper, Warren,” Cara said from behind Kahlan’s other shoulder. “They can’t hear you. Not from this far.”

Warren’s blue eyes turned to the Mord-Sith. Cara’s red leather would have stood out like a beacon, were she not sheathed in wolf fur that made her melt into the background of snow-dusted brush. Kahlan’s own fur mantle was soft and warm against the sides of her face. Sometimes, since Richard had made it for her, the feel against her skin was evocative of his gentle caress protecting her and keeping her warm.

“Oh, but their gifted can hear us, Cara, even from this distance, if we are too vociferous.”

Cara’s nose wrinkled. “What’s that mean?”

“Loud,” Kahlan whispered in a way as if to suggest Cara should use a little more caution and be more quiet.

Cara’s face distorted with her displeasure at the thought of magic. She shifted her weight to her other foot, went back to watching the line of troops slowly flowing up the valley, and kept silent.

After she’d seen enough, Kahlan gestured, and the three of them started back through the ankle-deep snow. At their elevation in the mountains, they were right at the base of oppressive gray clouds, making it feel as if they were looking down from another world. She didn’t like the world she had seen.

They trudged up the slope dense with pine and naked aspen, to the thickly wooded top of the ridge, where the backbone of rock broke through the snow here and there like half-buried bones. Their horses waited a good distance back down off the rocky slope. Farther back down the mountain, where Warren and Kahlan were sure they would not be detected by any gifted who might be protecting the Order troops, waited an escort of D’Haran guards General Meiffert had handpicked to protect Kahlan and the two with her, who were also protecting her.

“So you see?” Warren asked in little more than a whisper. “They’re still at it—moving more and more men up this way, trying to get around us without us being aware of it.”

Kahlan held up the fur to shelter her face as a light breeze dragged a curtain of snow past them. At least it wasn’t snowing again, yet.

“I don’t think so, Warren.”

His questioning, handsome face turned her way. “Then what?”

“I think they want it to look like they’re sending troops past us so we will send men way out here after them.”

“A diversion?”

“I think so. It’s just close enough to us to be likely we would discover them, yet far enough away and through difficult enough terrain that it would require us to split our forces in order to do anything about it. Besides, every one of our scouts came back.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Sure it is. But what if they have gifted with them, as you believe? How is it that not one of our scouts failed to make it back to report these massive troop movements?”

Warren thought that over a moment as the three of them carefully made it over a high spot, sliding on their bottoms down the far side of the slippery sloping rock.

“I think they’re fishing,” Cara said as her boots thumped down on solid ground behind them. “Their gifted don’t try to net the small fry, hoping to draw bigger fish close.”

Kahlan brushed the snow from her backside. “Like us.”

Warren looked skeptical. “You think this is all just some sort of elaborate trap to snare officers or gifted?”

“Well, no,” Kahlan said. “That would only be a bonus for them. I think their main intent is to spur us into splitting our forces to deal with what they want us to believe is this threat.”

Warren scratched his head of curly blond hair. His blue eyes twitched back in the direction the three of them had come down off the ridge, as if trying to look again at what he could not see.

“But if they’re sending great numbers of troops north—even if it is to draw away some of our forces—shouldn’t that concern us?”

“Of course it should,” Kahlan said. “If it were true.”

Warren glanced over at her as they struggled through deeper snow drifted under crags they passed beneath on their way up a steep little rise. Her legs were weary with the effort. Warren held out his hand to help her up a high step. He did the same for Cara. Cara gestured that she didn’t need the hand, but she didn’t level a scowl at him, either. Kahlan was always pleased to see evidence that Cara was learning that offers of modest aid were simply a courtesy and not necessarily accusations of weakness.

“Then I’m confused,” Warren said as he panted.

Kahlan came to a halt to let them all catch their breath. She lifted an arm back toward the enemy troops off beyond the ridge.

“Yes, if it were true that great numbers of troops were going out around us and heading north, that would concern us. But I don’t believe they are.”

Warren swiped a blond lock off his forehead. “You don’t think all those men are heading north? Where, then?”

“Nowhere,” Kahlan said.

“That many men? You’ve got to be joking.”

She smiled at the look on his face. “I believe it’s a trick. I think it’s only a small number of men.”

“But the scouts have been reporting mass numbers of men moving north for three days now!”

“Hush,” Cara warned, getting even with an air of mock scolding.

Warren covered his mouth with both hands when he realized he’d shouted.

They had their breath back, so Kahlan started out again, taking them over the top of the little rise onto flatter ground, following their footsteps back the way they had come.

“Remember what the scouts said yesterday?” she asked him. “They tried to go over to the mountains on the other side to have a look at the lay of the land beyond and the enemy troops moving north through it, but the passes were too heavily guarded?”

“I remember.”

“I think I’ve just figured out why.” She gestured by looping her hand around as she went on. “I think what we’re seeing is a relatively small group of the same men just going around in a big circle. We’re only seeing them at the point where they pass up this valley. We see troops marching by continuously for days and we assume they’re moving a lot of men, but I think it’s just a circle of the same ones going round and round.”

Warren stopped to stare at her. His face turned grave at the implications. “So if we’re tricked into thinking they’re moving an army up this way, then we will split our army in response and send part of them out after this phantom force.”

“We’re already outnumbered,” Cara said as she nodded to herself, “but we have the advantage of defending terrain that suits our purpose. However, if they could reduce our numbers substantially simply by getting us to send a large percentage off on some mission, first, their entire army might finally be able to overrun a smaller number of remaining defenders.”

“Makes sense.” Warren stroked his chin in thought, looking back at the ridge. “What if you’re wrong?”

Kahlan turned to look back toward the ridge, too. “Well, if I’m wrong, then…”

Kahlan frowned at a fat old maple tree not ten feet away. She thought she saw the bark move. The dusting of snow on the scaly gray, furrowed bark began disappearing, melting away in an ever widening area. Like dross floating on the surface of a boiling cauldron, the bark moved.

Kahlan gasped as Warren seized her and Cara by the collar and flung them both down on their backs. The wind knocked from her lungs, Kahlan tried to sit up, but Warren dived to the ground between them, pinning them both down.

Before Kahlan had a chance to get her breath or ask what was wrong, blinding light flashed in the still woods. A deafening boom rent the air and jolted the ground beneath her. Splintered wood, from toothpick-size fragments to fence-post-size sections, howled past inches above her face. Huge sections of wood thunked as they rebounded off rocks. Others spun, caroming off tree trunks. Pieces tumbling along the ground kicking up snow peppered with frozen chunks of dirt. The air went white as the shock from the blast blew a wall of snow up into the air.

If any of them had been standing, they would have been torn to shreds.

As soon as the last pieces of timber, trailing smoke, thudded to ground, Warren rolled toward her. “Gifted,” he whispered.

Kahlan frowned at him. “What?”

“Gifted,” he whispered again. “They focused their power to boil the frozen tree inside and make it explode. That’s how we lost so many men when we gathered back in that valley during the first battle, back just before you came to us. They surprised us.”

Kahlan nodded. She peeked up, but saw no one. She glanced over to see if Cara was all right.

“Where’s Cara,” she asked in an urgent whisper.

Warren cautiously peered off, searching the empty scene. Kahlan lifted herself a little on an elbow and saw only the disturbed snow where Cara had been.

“Dear Creator,” Warren said. “You don’t suppose they’ve snatched her, do you?”

Kahlan saw tracks where there had been none before, leading off to the side. “I think—”

A scream that would have made a brave man blanch reverberated through the trees. It trailed off in an agonizing echo.

“Cara?” Warren asked.

“I don’t think so.”

Kahlan carefully sat up and saw that a hole had been torn open in the crowded growth of the forest crown, letting harsh light penetrate the shaded woodland sanctuary below. The ground all around was littered with splintered wood, broken branches, huge limbs fallen to ground, and boughs ripped from other trees. Gouges down through the white layer of snow into the dark forest floor radiated from a ragged bowl-shaped depression where the tree had been. Fragments of wood and root lay on the ground everywhere and were even caught up in the surrounding trees.

Warren put a hand to her shoulder, urging Kahlan to stay down as he rolled into a crouch. She flipped over onto her stomach and cautiously rose up onto her hands and knees.

Kahlan jumped up and pointed. “There.”

Through the trees, she saw Cara returning. The Mord-Sith was herding a small man in obvious pain along before her. Each time he stumbled and fell, she kicked him in the ribs, rolling him through the snow before her. He cried out, his words coming as a whining cry that Kahlan couldn’t make out because of the distance. The words weren’t hard to imagine, though.

Cara had captured one of the gifted. It was for tasks such as this that Mord-Sith had been created. For someone with the gift, trying to use magic against a Mord-Sith was a mistake that cost them their control over their own ability.

Kahlan stood, brushing snow from herself. Warren, his violet robes crusted with snow, rose beside her, transfixed by the sight. This was one of the wizards responsible for killing so many men when the D’Harans had gathered in the valley after the Order began moving north. This was the vicious animal who did Jagang’s bidding. He didn’t seem like a vicious animal, now, as he wept and begged before the implacable captor driving him on before her.

He was a bundle of rags, flinging out around him as he rolled through the snow with a final mighty kick that deposited him at Kahlan and Warren’s feet. He lay facedown, whimpering like a child.

Cara bent, seized him by his tangled mat of dark hair, and yanked him to his feet.

It was a child.

“Lyle?” Warren stared incredulously. “Lyle? It was you?”

Tears ran from wintery eyes. He wiped his nose on the back of a tattered sleeve as he glared at Warren. Young Lyle looked to be a boy of perhaps ten or twelve years, but since Warren knew him, Kahlan realized he was probably from the Palace of the Prophets, too. Lyle was a young wizard.

Warren reached out to cup the boy’s bloody chin. Kahlan snatched Warren’s wrist. The boy lunged to bite Warren’s hand. Cara was quicker. She snatched him back by the hair as she rammed her Agiel into his back.

Shrieking in pain, he crumpled to the ground. She kicked the injured lad in the ribs.

Warren held his hands out, imploring. “Cara, don’t—”

Her icy blue eyes turned up to challenge him. “He tried to kill us. He tried to kill the Mother Confessor.”

She ground her teeth and, while looking Warren in the eye, kicked the whimpering boy again.

Warren licked his lips. “I know…but…”

“But what?”

“He’s so young. It isn’t right.”

“And so it would be better if we just let him kill us? Would that make it right for you?”

Kahlan knew Cara was right. As difficult as it was to witness, Cara was right. If they died, how many men, women, and children would the Imperial Order go on to slaughter? Child though he was, he was a tool of the Order.

Nonetheless, Kahlan gestured Cara that that was enough. When Kahlan signaled, Cara again seized his tangled mat of dirty hair in her fist and hauled him to his feet. With Cara’s thighs at his back, he stood shivering, blood running down his face, pulling short, ragged breaths.

As Kahlan stared down into terrified, tear-filled brown eyes, she put on her Confessor’s face, the face her mother had taught her when she was but a little girl, the face that masked her inner tumult.

“I know you’re, there, Jagang,” she said in a quiet voice devoid of emotion.

The boy’s bloody mouth turned up in a smile that was not his own.

“You made a mistake, Jagang. We’ll have an army soon on its way to stop them.”

The boy smiled a vacant bloody smile, but said nothing.

“Lyle,” Warren said, his voice brittle with anguish, “you can be free of the dream walker. You must only swear loyalty to Richard and you will be free. Believe me, Lyle. Try. I know what it’s like. Try, Lyle, and I swear I’ll help you.”

Kahlan thought that, with Warren there, a man he knew, he might throw himself toward the unexpected light coming from the open dungeon door. The boy behind the smile that was not his own watched Warren with longing that slowly curdled to loathing. This was a child who had seen the struggle for freedom bring horror and death and knew that servile obedience brought rewards and life. He was not old enough to understand what more there was to it.