Faith of the Fallen (18 page)

Verna shot to her feet. “But what can we do!” She could plainly see the potential for chaos all around her. “How can we counter such vile magic?” She threw open her arms. “What do we need to do?”

Zedd shrugged. “I thought you and your Sisters had it all figured out. I thought you knew what you were doing.” He waggled his hand over his shoulder, gesturing off to the south, toward the enemy. “I thought you said you had the situation well in hand.”

Verna silently sank back down to the bench beside Warren.

“Uh, Zedd…” General Reibisch swallowed in distress. He held out the mosquito. “Zedd, I think I’m starting to feel dizzy. Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“About what?”

“The fever. I think my vision is getting dimmer. Can you do nothing?”

“No, nothing.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, because there’s nothing wrong with you. I just conjured a few albino mosquitoes to make a point. The point is that what I saw when I came into this camp scared the wits out of me. If the gifted among the enemy are at all diabolical, and with Jagang we have ample reason to believe they are, then this army is ill prepared for the true nature of the threat.”

Sister Philippa haltingly lifted a hand like a schoolgirl with a question. “But, with all the gifted among us, surely, we would…know…or something.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you: the way things are now, you won’t know. It’s the things you never heard of, haven’t seen before, don’t expect, and can’t even imagine, that are going to be coming for you. The enemy will use conventional magic, to be sure, and that will be trouble enough, but it’s the albino mosquitoes you must fear.”

“As you said, though, you only conjured them to make a point,” Warren said. “Maybe the enemy isn’t as smart as you, and won’t think of such things.”

“The Order did not take over all of the Old World by being stupid but by being ruthless.” Zedd’s brow drew lower. He lifted a finger skyward to mark his words. “Besides, they have already thought of just such things. This past spring, one of the Sisters in the hands of the enemy used magic to unleash a deadly plague that could not be detected by anyone with the gift. Tens of thousands of people, from newborn infants to the old, suffered gruesome deaths.”

Those Sisters, in the hands of the enemy, were a grave and ever-present danger. Ann had gone off alone on a mission to either rescue those Sisters or eliminate them. From what Zedd had seen when he had been down in Anderith, Ann had failed in her mission. He didn’t know what had become of her, but he knew that Jagang still held Sisters captive.

“But we stopped the plague,” Warren said.

“Richard stopped it, as only he could.” Zedd held the gaze of the young wizard. “Did you know that in order to save us from that grim fate, he had to venture to the Temple of the Winds, hidden away beyond the veil of life in the underworld itself? Neither you nor I can imagine the toll such an experience must have taken on him. I saw a shadow of the specter in his eyes when he spoke of it.

“I can’t even hazard a guess as to how trifling a chance at success he had when he started on so hopeless a journey. Had he not prevailed against all odds, we would all be dead by now from an unseen death brought on by magic we could not detect and could not counter. I’d not want to again count on such an auspicious deliverance.”

No one could disagree with him; they nodded slightly, or looked away. The tent had become a gloomy place.

Verna rubbed her fingers across her brow. “Pride is of no use to the dead. I admit it: those gifted among us have little knowledge of what we’re doing when it comes to using our gift in warfare. We know some things about fighting, perhaps even a great many things, but I admit we could be woefully lacking in the depth of knowledge needed.

“Think us fools if you will, but don’t ever think us at odds with you, Zedd; we are all here on the same side.” Her brown eyes betrayed nothing but simple sincerity. “We not only could use your help, we would gratefully welcome it.”

“Of course he will help us,” Adie scoffed while giving Zedd a scolding frown.

“Well, you have a good start. Admitting that you don’t know something is the first step to learning.” Zedd scratched his chin. “Every day, I amaze myself with all I don’t know.”

“That would be wonderful,” Warren said. “If you would help us, I mean.” He sounded hesitant, but forged ahead anyway. “I would really like to have the benefit of a real wizard’s experience.”

Despondent with the weight of his other troubles, Zedd shook his head. “I would like to—and to be sure I will give you all some advice in the task at hand. However, I’ve been on a long and frustrating journey, and I’m afraid I’m not yet finished with it. I can’t stay. I must soon be off again.”

Warren swiped back his curly blond hair. “What sort of journey have you been on, Zedd?”

Zedd pointed a bony finger. “You don’t need to keep that flattened mosquito, General.”

General Reibisch realized it was still between his finger and thumb. He tossed it away. Everyone awaited Zedd’s words. He smoothed the heavy maroon robes over his twiglike thighs as his gaze absently studied the dirt floor.

He let out a crestfallen sigh. “I was recovering from my own auspicious deliverance from grappling with remarkable magic I’d never before encountered, and, as I regained my senses, spent months searching. I was down in Anderith, and saw some of what happened after the Order swept in there. It was a dark time for the people. Not only from the rampaging soldiers, but also from one of your Sisters, Verna. Death’s Mistress they called her.”

“Do you know which one it is?” Verna asked in a bitter voice at hearing of a Sister causing harm.

“No. I only saw her once, from a goodly distance. Had I been fully recovered, I might have tried to remedy the situation, but I wasn’t myself yet and dared not confront her. She also had a few thousand soldiers with her. The sight of all the soldiers, led by a woman they had heard of and feared, had people in a panic. The Sister was young, with blond hair. She wore a black dress.”

“Dear Creator,” Verna whispered. “Not one of mine—one of the Keeper’s. There are few women born with the strength of power such as she has. She also has power acquired by nefarious means; Nicci is a Sister of the Dark.”

“I’ve gotten reports,” General Reibisch said. By his grim tone, Zedd knew the reports must have had it right. “I’ve heard, too, that it’s quieted considerably.”

Zedd nodded. “The Order was at first brutal, but now ‘Jagang the Just’—as they have taken to calling him—has spared them further harm. In most places, other than the capital of Fairfield where the most killing took place, people have turned to supporting him as a liberator come to deliver them into a better life. They’re reporting neighbors, or travelers—whoever they suspect is not an adherent to the noble ideals of the Order.

“I was all through Anderith, and spent a good deal of time behind the enemy lines searching—without success. I then journeyed up into the wilds and north to a number of towns, and even a few cities, but I can find no sign of them. I guess my abilities were a long time in recovering; I only a short time ago discovered where you all were. I have to commend you, General, you’ve kept the presence of your forces well hidden—took me forever to find your army. The boy, though, seems to have vanished without a trace.” Zedd’s fists tightened in his lap. “I must find him.”

“You mean Richard?” Adie asked. “You be searching for your grandson?”

“Yes. For Richard and Kahlan, both.” Zedd lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “However, without any success, I must admit. I’ve talked to no one who has seen even a sign of them. I’ve used every skill I possess, but to no avail. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they no longer existed.”

Looks passed among everyone else. Zedd peered from one surprised face to another. For the first time in months, Zedd’s hopes rose. “What? What is it? You know something?”

Verna gestured under the bench. “Show him, General.”

At her urging, the general lifted out a map roll. He pulled it wide in his callused hands and laid it on the ground at his feet. The map was turned around so Zedd could read it. General Reibisch tapped the mountains to the west of Hartland.

“Right here, Zedd.”

“Right there…what?”

“Richard and Kahlan,” Verna said.

Zedd gaped at her face and then down at the map. General Reibisch’s finger hovered over a wild range of peaks. Zedd knew those mountains. They were an inhospitable place.

“There? Dear spirits, why would Richard and Kahlan be all the way up there in such a forbidding place? What are they doing there?”

“Kahlan be hurt,” Adie said in a consoling tone.

“Hurt?”

“She was at the brink of passing into the spirit world. From what we be told, maybe she saw the world on the other side of the veil.” Adie pointed to the map. “Richard took her there to recover.”

“But…why would he do that?” With a hand, Zedd flattened his wavy white hair to the top of his head. His thoughts spun in a confusing jumble while he tried to take it all in at once. “She could be healed—”

“No. She be spelled. If magic be used to try to heal her, a vile hidden spell would be unleashed and she would die.”

Understanding washed over him. “Dear spirits… I’m thankful the boy knew it in time.” Before the horror of memories of the screams could come roaring to the fore of his thoughts, Zedd slammed a mental door on them. He swallowed with the pain of those that slipped through. “But still, why would he go there? He’s needed here.”

“He certainly is,” Verna snapped. By her tone, it was a sore subject.

“He can’t come here,” Warren said. When Zedd only stared at him, he explained further. “We don’t understand it all, but we believe Richard is following a prophecy of some sort.”

“Prophecy!” Zedd dismissed it with a wave. “Richard doesn’t take to riddles. He hates them and won’t pay heed to them. There are times when I wish he would, but he won’t.”

“Well, this one he’s paying heed to.” Warren pressed his lips tight for a moment. “It’s his own.”

“His own…what?”

Warren cleared his throat. “Prophecy.”

Zedd jumped to his feet. “What! Richard? Nonsense.”

“He’s a war wizard,” Verna said with quiet authority.

Zedd passed a scowl among all the suddenly circumspect expressions. He made a sour face and, with a flourish of his robes, returned to his seat beside Adie.

“What is this prophecy?”

Warren twisted a little knot of his violet robes. “He didn’t say, exactly.”

“Here.” General Reibisch pulled some folded papers from a pocket. “He wrote me letters. We’ve all read them.”

Zedd stood and snatched the letters from the general’s big fist. He went to the table and smoothed out the pages. As everyone else sat silently watching, Zedd leaned over the table and read Richard’s words lying before him.

With great authority, Richard paradoxically turned away from authority. He said that after much reflection, he had come to an understanding that arrived with the power of a vision, and he knew then, beyond doubt, that his help would only bring about certain catastrophe.

In letters that followed, Richard said he and Kahlan were safe and she was slowly recovering. Cara was with them. In response to letters General Reibisch and others had written, Richard remained steadfast in his stand. He warned them that the cause of freedom would be forever lost if he failed to remain on his true path. He said that whatever decisions General Reibisch and the rest of them made, he would not contradict or criticize. He told them that his heart was with them, but they were on their own for the foreseeable future. He said possibly forever.

His letters basically gave no real information, other than alluding to his understanding or vision, and making it clear that they could expect no guidance from him. Nonetheless, Zedd could read some of what the words didn’t say.

Zedd stared at the letters long after he had finished reading them. The flame of the lamp wavered slowly from side to side, occasionally fluttering and sending up a coiled thread of oily smoke. He could hear muffled voices outside the tent as soldiers on patrol quietly passed along information. Inside, everyone remained silent. They had all read the letters.

Verna’s expression was tight with anxiety. She could hold her tongue no longer. “Will you go to see him, Zedd? Convince him to return to the struggle?”

Zedd lightly trailed his fingers over the words on paper. “I can’t. This is one time I can be of no help to him.”

“But he’s our leader in this struggle.” The soft lamplight illuminated the feminine grace of her slender fingers as she pressed them to her brow in vain solace. Her hand fell back to her lap. “Without him…”

Zedd didn’t answer her. He could not imagine what Ann’s reaction to such a development would be. For centuries she had combed through prophecies in anticipation of the war wizard who would be born to lead them in this battle for the very existence of magic. Richard was that war wizard, born to the battle he had suddenly abandoned.

“What do you think be the problem?” Adie asked in her quiet, raspy voice.

Zedd looked back to the letters one last time. He pulled his gaze from the words and straightened. All eyes around the dimly lit tent were on him as if hoping he could somehow rescue them from a fate they couldn’t comprehend, but instinctively dreaded.

“This is a time of trial to the depth of Richard’s soul.” Zedd slipped his hands up opposite sleeves until the silver brocade at the cuffs met. “A passage, of sorts—thrust upon him because of his comprehension of something only he sees.”

Warren cleared his throat. “What sort of trial, Zedd? Can you tell us?”

Zedd gestured vaguely as memories of terrible times flashed through his mind. “A struggle…a reconciliation…”

“What sort of reconciliation?” Warren pressed.

Zedd gazed into the young man’s blue eyes, wishing he wouldn’t ask so many questions. “What is the purpose of your gift?”

“Its purpose? Well, I…guess to…well, it just is. The gift is simply an ability.”

“It is to help others,” Verna stated flatly. She clutched her light blue cloak more tightly around her shoulders as if it were armor to defend her from whatever Zedd might throw at her in answer.

“Ah. Then what are you doing here?”

The question caught her by surprise. “Here?”

“Yes.” Zedd waved his arm, indicating a vague, distant place. “If the gift is to help others, then why are you not out there doing it? There are sick needing to be healed, ignorant needing to be taught, and the hungry needing to be fed. Why are you just sitting there, healthy, smart, and well fed?”

Verna rearranged her cloak as she squared her shoulders into a posture of firm resolve. “In battle, if you abandon the gates to help a fallen comrade, you have given in to a weakness: your inability to steel yourself to an immediate suffering in order to prevent suffering on a much greater scale. If I run off to help the few people I could in that manner, I must leave my post here, with this army, as they try to keep the enemy from storming the gateway into the New World.”

Zedd’s estimation of the woman rose a little. She had come tantalizingly close to expressing the essence of a vital truth. He offered her a small smile of respect as he nodded. She looked more surprised by that than she had by his question.

“I can certainly see why the Sisters of the Light are widely regarded as proper servants of need.” Zedd stroked his chin. “So then, it is your conviction that we with the ability—the gift—are born into the world to be slaves to those with needs?”

“Well, no…but if there is a great need—”

“Then we are more tightly bound in the chains of slavery to those with every greater need,” Zedd finished for her. “Thus, anyone with a need, by right—to your mind—becomes our master? Indentured servant to one cause, or to any greater cause that might come along, but chattel all the same. Yes?”

This time, Verna chose not to dance with him over what she apparently regarded as a patch of quicksand. It didn’t prevent her from glaring at him, though.

Zedd held that there could be only one philosophically valid answer to the question; if Verna knew it, she didn’t offer it.

“Richard has apparently come to a place where he must critically examine his alternatives and determine the proper course of his life,” Zedd explained. “Perhaps circumstances have caused him to question the proper use of his abilities, and, in view of his values, his true purpose.”

Verna opened her hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t see how he could have any higher purpose than to be here, helping the army against the threat to the New World—the threat to the lives of free people.”

Zedd sank back down onto the bench. “You do not see, and I do not see, but Richard sees something.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s right,” Warren said.

Zedd studied the young man’s face for a moment. Warren had fresh features, but also a knowing look in his eyes that betrayed something beyond mere youth. Zedd wondered how old Warren was.

“No, it does not mean Richard is right. He may be making a heroic mistake that destroys our chance to survive.”

“Kahlan thinks maybe it be a mistake,” Adie finally put in, as if regretting having to tell him. “She wrote a note to me—I believe without Richard’s knowledge, seeing as Cara wrote down Kahlan’s words for her—and gave it to the messenger. Kahlan says that she fears Richard be doing this in part because of what happened to her. The Mother Confessor also confided that she be afraid Richard has lost his faith in people, and, because of his rejection by the people of Anderith, Richard may view himself as a fallen leader.”

“Bah.” Zedd waved his hand dismissively. “A leader cannot follow behind people, tail between his legs, sniffing for their momentary whims and wishes, whining to follow them this way and that as they ramble through life. Those kind of people are not looking for a leader—they are looking for a master, and one will find them.

“A true leader forges a clear path through a moral wilderness so that people might see the way. Richard was a woods guide because such is his nature. Perhaps he is lost in that dark wood. If he is, he must find his way out, and it must be a correctly reasoned course, if he is to be the true leader of a free people.”

Everyone silently considered the implications. The general was a man who followed the Lord Rahl, and simply awaited his orders. The Sisters had their own ideas. Zedd and Adie knew the way ahead was not what it might seem to some.

“That’s what Richard did for me,” Warren said in a soft voice, staring off into memories of his own. “He showed me the way—made me want to follow him up out of the vaults. I had become comfortable down there, content with my books and my fate, but I was a prisoner of that darkness, living my life through the struggles and accomplishments of others. I never could understand precisely how he inspired me to want to follow him up and out.” Warren looked up into Zedd’s eyes. “Maybe he needs that same kind of help, himself. Can you help him, Zedd?”