Naked Empire (35 page)

Richard hooked his bow under his leg and bent it enough to attach the bowstring. He drew an arrow from the leather quiver over his shoulder and nocked it, holding it at rest against the bow with his left hand. He scanned the sky, checking the clouds, and looking for any sign of the races. He wasn’t entirely sure about the shadows among the trees, but the sky was clear of races.

“I think we’d better be on our way.” Richard’s gaze swept across all their faces, first, making sure they were paying attention. “Walk on the rocks if at all possible. I don’t want to leave a trail behind in the snow that Nicholas could spot through the eyes of the races.”

Nodding their understanding, they all followed after him, in single file, out onto the rocks. Owen, in front of the ever-watchful Mord-Sith, kept a wary eye toward the sky. Jennsen and Betty watched the woods to the sides. In the strong gusts, they all hunched against the wind and the stinging bite of icy crystals hitting their faces. In the thin air it was tiring climbing up the steep incline. Richard’s legs burned with the effort. His lungs burned with the poison.

By the look of the sheer walls of rock rising up into broken clouds to either side, Richard didn’t see any way, other than the pass, for people to make it over the imposing mountains, at least, not without a journey of tremendous difficulty, hardship, and probably a great loss of life. Even then, he wasn’t really certain that it was even possible.

In places, as they trudged up the edge of the steep rise, he could see back through gaps in the rock walls of the mountains, under the dark bottom of clouds, to sunlight beyond the pass.

None of them spoke as they climbed. From time to time they had to pause to catch their breath. They all kept an eye to the churning sky. Richard spotted a few small birds in the distance, but nothing of any size.

As they approached the top, following a zigzagging course so they could more easily make it up without having to scale rock faces of jutting ledges, Richard caught glimpses of the statue sitting on a massive base of granite.

From the high vantage point in the pass, he could now see that the rock on either side of the rise fell away in precipitous drops. The gorge at the bottom of either side dead-ended at vertical climbs of what would have to be thousands of feet. Whatever routes might have branched off lower down, they would have to converge before going up this rise; by the lay of the land, it became clear to him that this was the only way to make it through this entire section of the pass.

He realized that anyone approaching Bandakar by this route would have to climb this ridge in the rise, and they would unavoidably come upon the monument.

As he mounted the final cut between the snow-dusted boulders standing twice his height, Richard was able at last to take in the entire statue guarding the pass.

And guarding the pass it was. This was a sentinel.

The noble figure sitting atop a vast stone base was seated as he watchfully guarded the pass. In one hand the figure casually held a sword at the ready, its point resting on the ground. He appeared to be wearing leather armor, with his cape resting over his lap. The vigilant pose of the sentinel gave it a resolute presence. The clear impression was that this figure was set to ward what was beyond.

The stone was worn by centuries of weather, but that weathering failed to wear away the power of the carving. This figure was carved, and it was placed, with great purpose. That it was out in the middle of nowhere, at the summit of a mountain pass no longer traveled and a trail possibly abandoned after this was set here, made it, to Richard, all the more arresting.

He had carved stone, and he knew what had gone into this. It was not what he would call fine work, but it was powerfully executed. Just looking at it gave him goose bumps.

“At least it doesn’t look like you,” Kahlan said.

At least there was that.

But this thing being there all alone for what very well might have been thousands of years was worrisome.

“What I’d like to know,” Richard said to her, “is why this second beacon was down there, down the hill, in that cave, and not up here.”

Kahlan shared a telling look with him. “If Jennsen hadn’t done what she did, you would never have found it.”

Richard walked around the base of the statue, searching—for what he didn’t know. Almost as soon as he started looking, he saw, on the front of the base, on the top of one of the decorative moldings, an odd void in the snow. It looked as if something had been sitting there and had then been taken away. It was a track, of sorts, a telltale.

Richard thought the barren spot looked familiar. He pulled the warning beacon from his pack and checked the shape of the bottom. His thought confirmed, he placed the figure of himself in the void in the snow collected on the rim of the base. It was a perfect fit.

The little figure had been here, with this statue.

“How do you think it came to be down in the cave?” Cara asked in a suspicious voice.

“Maybe it fell,” Jennsen offered. “It’s pretty windy up here. Maybe the wind blew it off and it tumbled down the hill.”

“And just managed to roll through the woods without being stopped by a tree, and then, neat as can be,” Richard said, “roll right into the small opening of the cave, and then just happened to come to be stuck in the rock right near where you, by coincidence, ended up stuck. Stuck, I might add, in a terrifying place you aren’t terrified of.”

Jennsen blinked in wonder. “When you put it like that…”

Standing at the crown of the pass, in front of the statue right where the warning beacon would have rested, and now again rested, Richard could see that the spot held a commanding view of the approach to Bandakar. The mountains blocking off the view to either side were as formidable as anything he’d ever seen. The rise where the sentinel sat overlooked the approach into the pass back between those towering, snowcapped peaks. As high as they were, they were still only at the foothills of those mountains.

The statue was not looking ahead, as might be expected of a guardian, but rather, its unflinching gaze was fixed a little to the right. Richard thought that was a bit odd. He wondered if maybe it was meant to show this sentinel keeping a vigilant eye on everything, on every potential threat.

Standing as he was, directly in front of the statue’s base, in front of where the warning beacon sat, Richard looked to the right, in the direction the man in the statue was looking.

He could see the approach of the pass up through the mountains. Farther out, in the distance, he could see vast forests to the west, and beyond that, the low, barren mountains they had crossed.

And, he could see a gap in those mountains.

The eyes of the man in the statue were resolutely fixed upon what Richard now saw.

“Dear spirits,” he whispered.

“What is it?” Kahlan asked. “What do you see?”

“The Pillars of Creation.”

Kahlan, standing beside Richard, squinted into the distance. From the base of the statue they had a commanding view of the approaches from the west. It seemed as if she could see half a world away. But she couldn’t see what he saw.

“I can’t see the Pillars of Creation,” she said.

Richard leaned close, having her sight down his arm where he pointed. “There. That darker depression in the expanse of flat ground.”

Richard’s eyes were better at seeing distant things than were hers. It was all rather hazy-looking, being so far away.

“You can recognize where it lies by the landmarks, there”—he pointed off to the right, and then a little to the left—“and there. Those darker mountains in the distance that are a little higher than the rest have a unique shape. They serve as good reference points so you can find things.”

“Now that you point them out, I can see the land where we traveled from. I recognize those mountains.”

It seemed amazing, looking back on where they’d been, how high they were. She could see, spread out into the distance, the vast wasteland beyond the barren mountain range and, even if she couldn’t make out the details of the dreadful place, she could see the darker depression in the valley. That depression she knew to be the Pillars of Creation.

“Owen,” Richard asked, “how far is this pass from your men—the men who were hiding with you in the hills?”

Owen looked baffled by the question. “But Lord Rahl, I have never been up this portion of the pass before. I have never seen this statue. I have never been anywhere close to here before. It would be impossible for me to tell such a thing.”

“Not impossible,” Richard said. “If you know what your home is like, you should be able to recognize landmarks around it—just as I was able to look out to the west and see the route we traveled to get here. Look around at those mountains back through the pass and see if you recognize anything.”

Owen, looking skeptical, walked the rest of the way up behind the statue and peered off to the east. He stood in the wind for a time, staring. He pointed at a mountain in the distance, through the pass.

“I think I know that place.” He sounded astonished. “I know the shape of that mountain. It looks a little different from this spot, but I think it’s the same place I know.” He shielded his eyes from the gusts of wind as he gazed to the east. He pointed again. “And that place! I know that place, too!”

He rushed back to Richard. “You were right, Lord Rahl. I can see places I know.” He stared off then as he whispered to himself. “I can tell where my home is, even though I’ve not been here. Just by seeing places I know.”

Kahlan had never seen anyone so astounded by something so simple.

“So,” Richard finally prompted, “how far do you think your men are from here?”

Owen looked back over his shoulder. “Through that low place, then around that slope coming from the right…” He turned back to Richard. “We have been hiding in the land near where the seal on our empire used to be, where no one ever goes because it is near the place where death stalks, near the pass. I would guess maybe a full day’s steady walk from here.” He suddenly turned hesitant. “But I am wrong to be confident of what my eyes tell me. I may just be seeing what my mind wants me to see. It may not be real.”

Richard folded his arms and leaned back against the granite base of the statue as he gazed out toward the Pillars of Creation, ignoring Owen’s doubt. Knowing Richard as she did, Kahlan imagined that he must be considering his options.

Standing beside him, she was about to lean back against the stone of the statue’s base, but instead paused to first brush the snow off from beside where the warning beacon rested. As she brushed the snow away, she saw that there were words carved in the top of the decorative molding.

“Richard…look at this.”

He turned to see what she saw, and then started hurriedly brushing away more of the snow. The others crowded around, trying to see what was written in the stone of the statue’s base. Cara, on the other side of Richard, ran her hand all the way to the end to clean off the entire ledge.

Kahlan couldn’t read it. It was in another language she didn’t know, but thought she recognized.

“High D’Haran?” Cara asked.

Richard nodded his confirmation as he studied the words. “This must be a very old dialect,” he said, half to himself as he scrutinized it, trying to figure it out. “It’s not just an old dialect, but one with which I’m not familiar. Maybe because this is so distant a place.”

“What does it say?” Jennsen wanted to know as she peered around Richard, between him and Kahlan. “Can you translate it?”

“It’s difficult to work it out,” Richard mumbled. He swiped his hair back with one hand as he ran the fingers of his other lightly over the words.

He finally straightened and glanced up at Owen, standing to the side of the base, watching.

Everyone waited while Richard looked down at the words again. “I’m not sure,” he finally said. “The phraseology is odd….” He looked up at Kahlan. “I can’t be sure. I’ve not seen High D’Haran written this way before. I feel like I should know what it says, but I can’t quite get it.”

Kahlan didn’t know if he really couldn’t be sure, or if he didn’t want to speak the translation in front of the others.

“Well, maybe if you think it over for a while, it might come to you,” she offered, trying to give him a way of putting it off for the time being if he wanted to.

Richard didn’t take her offer. Instead, he tapped a finger to the words on the left of the warning beacon. “This part is a little more clear to me. I think it says something like ‘Fear any breach of this seal to the empire beyond…’”

He wiped a hand across his mouth as he considered the rest of the words. “I’m not so sure about the rest of it,” he finally said. “It seems to say, ‘for beyond is evil: those who cannot see.’”

“Of course,” Jennsen muttered in angry comprehension.

Richard raked his fingers back through his hair. “I’m not at all sure I have it right. Something about it still doesn’t make sense. I’m not sure I have it right.”

“You have it perfectly right,” Jennsen said. “Those who cannot see magic. This was placed by the gifted who sealed those people away from the rest of the world because of how they were born.” Her fiery eyes filled with tears. “Fear any breach of this seal to the empire beyond, for beyond is evil—those who cannot see magic. That’s what it means, those who cannot see magic.”

No one argued with her. The only sound was the rush of the wind across the open ground.

Richard spoke softly to her. “I’m not sure that’s it, Jenn.”

She folded her arms and turned away, glaring out toward the Pillars of Creation.

Kahlan could understand how she felt. Kahlan knew what it was like to be shunned by almost everyone except those who were like you. Confessors were thought of as monsters by many people. Given the chance, Kahlan was sure that much of the rest of humanity would be happy to seal her away for being a Confessor.

But just because she could understand how Jennsen felt, that didn’t mean Kahlan thought the young woman was right. Jennsen’s anger at those who banished these people was justified, but her anger at Richard and the rest of them for having the same spark of the gift, which made them in that way the same, was not.

Richard turned his attention to Owen. “How many men do you have waiting in the hills for you to return?”

“Not quite a hundred.”

Richard sighed in disappointment. “Well, if that’s all you have, then that’s all you have. We’ll have to see to getting more later.

“For now, I want you to go get those men. Bring them here, to me. We’ll wait here for you to return. This will be our base from where we work a plan to get the Order out of Bandakar. We’ll set up a camp down there, in those trees, where it’s well protected.”

Owen looked down the incline to where Richard pointed, and then off toward his homeland. His confused frown returned to Richard. “But, Lord Rahl, it is you who must give us freedom. Why not just come with me to the men, if you want to see them?”

“Because I think this will be a safer place than where they are now, where the Order probably knows they’re hiding.”

“But the Order does not know that there are men hiding, or where they are.”

“You’re deluding yourselves. The men in the Order are brutal, but they aren’t stupid.”

“If they really know where the men are, then why hasn’t the Order come to call them in?”

“They will,” Richard said. “When it suits them, they will. Your men aren’t a threat, so the men of the Order are in no hurry to expend any effort to capture them. Sooner or later they will, though, because they won’t want anyone to think they can escape the Order’s rule.

“I want your men away from there, to a place they’ve not been: here. I want the Order to think they’re gone, to think they’ve run away, so they won’t go after them.”

“Well,” Owen said, thinking it over, “I guess that would be all right.”

Tom stood watch near the far corner of the statue’s base, giving Jennsen room to be alone. She looked angry and he looked like he thought it best just to leave her be. Tom looked as if he felt guilty for having been born with the spark of the gift that allowed him to see magic, that same spark possessed by those who had banished people like Jennsen.

“Tom,” Richard said, “I want you to go with Owen.”

Jennsen’s arms came unfolded as she turned toward Richard. “Why do you want him to go?” She suddenly sounded a lot less angry.

“That’s right,” Owen said. “Why should he go?”

“Because,” Richard said, “I want to make sure that you and your men get back here. I need the antidote, remember? The more men I have back here with me who know where it is, the better. I want them safely away from the Order for now. With blond hair and blue eyes, Tom will fit in with your people. If you run into any soldiers from the Order they will think he’s one of you. Tom will make sure you all get back here.”

“But it could be dangerous,” Jennsen objected.

Richard fixed her in his challenging stare. He didn’t say anything. He simply waited to see if she would dare to attempt to justify her objections. Finally, she broke eye contact and looked away.

“I guess it makes sense, though,” she finally admitted.

Richard turned his attention back to Tom. “I want you to see if you can bring back some supplies. And I’d like to use your hatchet while you’re gone, if that’s all right.”

Tom nodded and pulled his hatchet from his pack. As Richard stepped closer to take the axe, he started ticking off a list of things he wanted the man to look for—specific tools, yew wood, hide glue, pack-thread, leather, and a list of other things Kahlan couldn’t hear.

Tom hooked his thumbs behind his belt. “All right. I doubt I’ll find it all right off. Do you want me to search out what I can’t find before I return?”

“No. I need it all, but I need those men back here more. Get what’s readily available and then get back here with Owen and his men as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get what I can. When do you want us to leave?”

“Now. We don’t have a moment to lose.”

“Now?” Owen sounded incredulous. “It will be dark in an hour or two.”

“Those couple of hours may be hours I need,” Richard said. “Don’t waste them.”

Kahlan thought that he meant because of the poison, but he could have had the gift in mind. She could see how much pain he was in because of the headache caused by the gift. She ached to hold him, to comfort him, to make him better, but she couldn’t make it all just go away; they had to find the solutions. She glanced at the small figure of Richard standing on the base of the statue. Half of that figure was as dark as a night stone, as dark and dead as the deepest part of the underworld itself.

Tom swung his pack up over his shoulder. “Take care of them for me, will you, Cara?” he asked with a wink. She smiled her agreement. “I’ll see you all in a few days, then.” He waved his farewell, his gaze lingering on Jennsen, before shepherding Owen around the statue and toward the man’s homeland.

Cara folded her arms and leveled a look at Jennsen. “You’re a fool if you don’t go kiss him a good journey.”

Jennsen hesitated, her eyes turning toward Richard.

“I’ve learned not to argue with Cara,” Richard said.

Jennsen smiled and ran over the ridge to catch Tom before he was gone. Betty, at the end of a long rope, scampered to follow after.

Richard stuffed the small figure of himself into his pack before picking up his bow from where it leaned against the statue. “We’d better get down into the trees and set up a camp.”

Richard, Kahlan, and Cara started down the rise toward the concealing safety of the huge pines. They had been long enough out in the open, as far as Kahlan was concerned. It was only a matter of time before the races came in search of them—before Nicholas came looking for them.

As cold as it was up in the pass, Kahlan knew they didn’t dare build a fire; the races could spot the smoke and then find them. They needed instead to build a snug shelter. Kahlan wished they could find a wayward pine to protect and hide them for the night, but she had not seen any of those down in the Old World and wishing wasn’t going to grow one.

As she stepped carefully on dry patches of rock, avoiding the snow so as not to leave tracks, she checked the dark clouds. It was always possible that it might warm just a little and that the precipitation could turn to rain. Even if it didn’t, it still would be a miserably cold night.

Jennsen, Betty following behind, returned, catching up with them as they zigzagged down through the steep notches of ledge. The wind was getting colder, the snow a little heavier.

When they reached a flatter spot, Jennsen caught Richard’s arm. “Richard, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be angry with you. I know you didn’t banish those people. I know it’s not your fault.” She gathered up the slack on Betty’s rope, looping it into coils. “It just makes me angry that those people were treated like that. I’m like them, and so it makes me angry.”

“The way they were treated should make you angry,” Richard said as he started away, “but not because you share an attribute with them.”