Temple of the Winds (117 page)

His head pounded in violent pain. He hurt everywhere. He hadn’t thought he would be able to stand, but he did. He hadn’t thought he would be able walk, but he did. He had to.

He was barefooted, and without a shirt. He had on only his pants. He knew that the lower Keep was cool, but he was covered in a sheen of sweat, hardly able to breathe through the heat he felt.

He used all his willpower to force himself to move.

He straightened, put a hand to the side of the door into the sliph’s room, and walked in.

Drefan looked up. He had his arm around Kahlan’s middle. He had a knife in his other hand. To the side, Cara was lying on the floor, tied in ropes. Her middle was ripped open. She was still alive, but shivering in agony.

Richard couldn’t make sense of it.

“
What in the name of all that’s good is going on, Drefan?”

“
Richard,” he sneered. “Just the man I’m looking for.”

“
Well, now I’m here. Let Kahlan go.”

“
Oh, I will, dear brother. Soon. It is you I need.”

“
Why?”

Drefan’s eyebrows lifted. “So that I can be reinstated as Lord Rahl. It’s my rightful place. The voices told me. My father told me. I am to be Lord Rahl. I was born to it.”

The plague was a far distant drone in Richard’s mind and body, yet this all seemed a dream, too. “Drop the knife, Drefan, and give up. It’s over. Let Kahlan go.”

Drefan laughed. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. When it died out, Drefan’s eyes narrowed with frightening resolve.

“
She wants me. She begs for it. You know the truth of that, my dear brother. You saw what she is. She is a whore. She is just like all the others. Just like Nadine. Just like my mother. She must die, like all the rest.”

Richard looked into Kahlan’s eyes. What was going on? Dear spirits, how was he going to get her away from Drefan?

“
You’re wrong, Drefan. Your mother loved you; she took you to a place where you would be safe from Darken Rahl. She loved you. Please, let Kahlan go. I’m begging you.”

“
She is mine! My wife! I will do with her what I will!”

Drefan slammed the knife into Kahlan’s lower back. Richard flinched at hearing it hit bone. Kahlan grunted with the impact, her eyes going wide in shock. Drefan released her. She dropped to her knees and crumpled to her side.

Richard tried with all his might to make sense of this. He couldn’t decide if this was real, or a dream. He had been having so many dreams, so many nightmares. This seemed like all the rest, but different. He didn’t even know if he was alive anymore. The whole room swam before him.

Drefan drew the Sword of Truth. The ring of steel that Richard knew so well echoed around the stone room, a chime that seemed to awaken him into a nightmare. Richard could see the rage from the sword, the magic, take Drefan’s eyes.

“
I’m all right, Richard,” Kahlan panted as she stared up at him. “You don’t have a weapon. Get out of here. Get away. I love you. Please, for me. Run.”

The rage in Drefan’s eyes was nothing to match the rage thundering into Richard’s heart.

“
Drop the sword, Drefan, now. Or I will kill you.”

Drefan swept the sword around. “How? With your bare hands?”

Richard vividly remembered what Zedd had told him when first giving him the Sword of Truth: the sword was only a tool; the Seeker was the weapon. A true Seeker didn’t need the sword.

Richard started forward. “And with hate in my heart.”

“
I will enjoy killing you, at last, Richard. Even if you don’t have a weapon.”

“
I am the weapon.”

Richard was running. The distance between them shrank at an alarming rate. Kahlan screamed for him to get away. He hardly heard her. Richard was committed.

Drefan lifted the sword overhead, pulling a breath in preparation to cleave Richard.

That was the opening. Richard knew that a thrust was faster than a cut.

He was in the iron grip of deadly determination.

Richard was lost in the dance with death.

Drefan bellowed in rage as the sword started down.

Richard dropped to his left knee, through the opening, using his forward momentum and a twist of his torso to add force to his strike. Fingers straight and stiff, he drove his arm ahead with all his might.

Before the sword could touch him, Richard struck like lightning, driving his hand through Drefan’s soft middle. In the blink of an eye, he had seized Drefan’s spinal column and yanked it back out, ripping it apart.

Drefan pitched backward, crashing against the sliph’s well, slumping down in a spreading, crimson flood.

Richard bent to Kahlan, cupping her face with his left hand. He didn’t want to touch her with Drefan’s blood. She was panting in pain. From the corner of his eye, Richard could see Drefan’s arm move.

“
I can’t feel my legs. Richard, I can’t feel my legs. Dear spirits, what did he do to me?” Her voice quivered with panic. “I can’t make them move.”

Richard was already lost in need. He had forgotten how to use his power as the price of returning from the Temple of the Winds, but he had used it before. He had healed before. He was a wizard.

He ignored his dizzy head, his sick stomach; he couldn’t allow that to stop him.

From Nathan, Richard had learned that his power was called through need, if the need was great enough, or through anger, if the anger was great enough. He had never had more need than he had at that moment, nor more anger.

“
Richard. Oh, Richard, I love you. I want you to know, if we, if we …”

“
Hush,” he said in a gentle voice. Her face was cut and bloody. It made him ache to see her pain, her panic. “I will heal you. Lie still, and I will make you whole again.”

“
Oh, Richard, I had the book. I lost it. Oh, Richard, I’m so sorry. I had it. I had it, but it’s gone.”

With a sinking feeling, he grasped what she was saying; he was going to die. There was nothing to be done, now. He was lost.

“
Richard, please, heal Cara.”

“
No. I don’t think I have enough strength to heal both of you.” To heal, he had to take the pain from the one injured. Killing Drefan had taken nearly all the strength he had. “I must heal you.”

Kahlan shook her head. “Please, Richard, if you love me, do as I ask. Heal Cara. It’s my fault—what he did to her. My fault.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I lost the book. I can’t save you. Heal Cara.” She stifled a cry. “We will be together soon, for all time, then.”

He understood. They were both to die. They would be together in the spirit world. She didn’t want to live without him.

Richard kissed her brow. “Hold on. Don’t give up. Please, Kahlan, I love you. Don’t give up.”

Richard turned to Cara. He already felt so sick that the sight didn’t affect him the way it normally would have. Her suffering, though, bent him with pain for her.

He laid his hands across Cara’s bloody, torn middle.

“
Cara, I’m here. Hold on. For me, hold on, so I can help you.”

She didn’t seem to hear his words as she mumbled, her head lolling from side to side.

Richard closed his eyes and opened his heart, his need, his soul. He released himself into the current of empathy. He wanted nothing but to make Cara whole again. She had given her all for them. He didn’t know if he had strength enough, but he gave all of himself over to it.

He descended into the swirl of her agony. He felt everything she felt, suffered with her. He gritted his teeth, held his breath, and pulled her pain into himself, onward, ever onward, without sparing anything to protect himself.

He shook with the suffering, and his mind wailed with it. He absorbed it into himself, and then asked for more. He asked for all of it. He demanded it.

The world was liquid, twisting, coursing pain. He was swept away in a molten river of it. Its fiery heat consumed his being.

Time lost all meaning. There was only the pain.

When he felt it all gathered into himself, he let flow his empathy, his power: healing strength. Healing heart.

He didn’t know how to direct it, he just let it flow into her. It felt as if his whole self drained away into her need. She was baked, barren earth, soaking in life-giving rain.

When at last he opened his eyes and lifted his head, his arms were lying across the smooth skin of her midriff. She was whole again. Though she seemed still unaware of it, she was whole.

Richard turned. Kahlan was lying on her side, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. Her face was ashen and covered with sweat and blood, her eyes half closed.

“
Richard,” she whispered when he bent to her, “free my hands. I want to be hugging you, when …”

When she died. That was what she was going to say.

Richard snatched up a knife lying nearby, and sliced through the ropes. The anger was back, but only as a distant glow now. He could hardly see the room anymore. Hardly hear her. Hardly see her.

Her wrists finally free, she threw an arm over his neck and drew him to her. Richard struggled to keep from falling on her.

“
Richard, Richard, Richard,” she whispered. “I love you.”

Richard went to embrace her, and saw the pool of blood spreading under her.

His rage ignited anew. His need ignited anew.

He took her up in his arms, begging the spirits to spare her.

“
Please give me the strength to heal this loved one,” he whispered in choking tears. “I have done everything required of me. I have sacrificed everything. Please, losing this loved one should not be part of it. I’m dying. Give me the time. Help me.”

It was all he wanted, all he needed, as he held her to him. He wanted her to live, to be well, to be whole.

Holding her in his arms, he once again released himself into the torrent. He pulled the pain onward, heedless of it, welcoming it, drawing it with all his might.

At the same time, he let flow his love, his warmth, his compassion.

Kahlan gasped.

Richard could see that his arms were glowing, as if a spirit were sharing his body with him. Perhaps, he was already a spirit, but he didn’t care. He cared only that he would heal her, and cared not at what cost. He would pay any price.

Kahlan gasped with the feel of it, the feel of the power surging into her. Her legs began to tingle. It was the first time she had felt anything in them since Drefan had stabbed her.

Richard seemed to glow around her as he hugged her in his arms, held her in his warm, loving embrace.

The rapture of the sliph, by comparison, was torture. This was beyond anything she had ever felt in her life. She could feel his warm, healing magic coursing through every fiber of her.

It was like being born anew. Life and vitality welled up in her. Tears of bliss flooded from her eyes as she hung in Richard’s arms, his magic completely overwhelming her.

When at last he parted from her, she moved without pain. Her legs moved. She felt whole. She was healed.

Richard wiped the blood from her lips as he gazed into her eyes.

Kneeling on the floor together, Kahlan kissed him, tasting their salty tears.

She parted, gripping his arms, looking into his eyes, seeing him as if in a new light. She had just shared something with him that was beyond words, beyond comprehension.

Kahlan stood, holding out her hand to help him up. Richard lifted his hand toward hers.

And then he toppled over onto his face.

“
Richard!” She dropped down, rolling him over onto his back. He was hardly breathing. “Richard. Please, Richard, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me!”

She clutched at his shoulders. He was burning with fever. His eyes were closed. He struggled for each shallow breath.

“
Oh, Richard, I’m so sorry. I lost the book. Please, Richard, I love you. Don’t die and leave me alone.”

“
Here,” came a voice that echoed around the room.

Kahlan’s head came up. The voice seemed unreal. She couldn’t understand it. Then realization hit her.

Kahlan spun around and saw the quicksilver face of the sliph looking down at her. A liquid silver arm held out the black book.